M.C. Beaton: Death of a Witch

“What brought you to this part?” asked Hamish.

“It’s a pretty village,” she said. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d prefer coffee.”

“I only have herbal tea. Good for you.”

“All right,” said Hamish. “Although I find that things that are said to be good for me are not very appealing.”

She smiled an enchanting smile that lit up her face. “Oh, you’ll like this.”

“Where did you come from?” asked Hamish as she busied herself at the counter by putting a kettle on the cooker.

“Oh, here and there.”

“And where was the last there?”

“Dear me. You do go on like a policeman. So many questions!”

“What do you do for a living?” pursued Hamish. “I supply therapy and herbal treatments.”

“Have many of the villagers visited you? I believe quite a few men have called on you.”

“I have a good treatment for sexual dysfunction. Want some?”

“I do not haff the trouble in that department,” said Hamish, blushing. “What exactly is this treatment?”

“A secret recipe.”

Hamish said stiffly, “We do not go in for sex much in Lochdubh,” and immediately felt silly as she turned round and looked at him with amusement.

She put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Now, try that.”

Hamish took a cautious sip. It was some sort of fruit tea, he guessed, very pleasant to the taste.

She sat down at the table close to him and raised her own cup to her lips. Catriona looked at him over the rim and smiled.

“Tell me about your sex life.”

“Chust keep your nose out o’ my private life,” said Hamish sharply.

“But you’ve been asking me so many personal questions. Isn’t it fair I should ask you some?”

“I didnae ask you about your sex life.”

Her knee pressed against his under the table.

“I don’t mind. For example, I’m very good in bed.”

“Are you running a brothel here?” demanded Hamish.

She threw back her head and laughed. Then she said, “My dear man, if I wanted to run a brothel, I would hardly settle in a village in the north of Scotland. Let’s not quarrel.” She covered his hand with her own. “I simply supply a few herbal medicines. I was teasing you. The main complaint here is indigestion.”

He felt a sudden tug of attraction. He drew his hand away gently.

“I must be off,” he said, standing up and putting on his cap. “I only called to introduce myself.”

“Call again,” said Catriona.

She turned in the doorway and kissed him on the cheek; “See you very soon,” she said.

Hamish walked off down the brae. He felt strangely elated. All of a sudden, he wanted to turn back and ask her out for dinner.

He half turned back. She was still standing in the doorway, watching him. Hamish forced himself to keep on going.

The desire to go back and see her lasted until he ate a substantial lunch and then he scratched his head in bewilderment. What had come over him? Had there been something in that tea?

He got a call from Jimmy Anderson reminding him that he was expected in the sheriff’s court in Strathbane at three o’clock that afternoon, along with Willie Lamont and Clarry Graham. Hamish phoned both Willie and Clarry and suggested they should all go together.

Willie was seated next to Hamish in the front passenger seat and Clarry was in the back. At one point in the drive, Hamish said, “Willie, are you scratching yourself?”

Willie removed his hand from his crotch. “I think I’ve got a wee bit o’ cystitis.”

“Then see Dr. Brodie as soon as possible. Man, what if ye were to go like that in court?”

The proceedings did not take long. In vain did the defence advocate plead that his clients were truly remorseful. The sheriff said the case was too severe to be tried in his court; he was remanding the burglars without bail to appear at the high court in Edinburgh.

“I’ll drop you off at Dr. Brodie’s,” said Hamish.

“I’ve got to get to the restaurant,” said Willie. “I’ll maybe drop along later.”

“Don’t leave it too long. Cystitis can be nasty,” said Hamish.

♦

Hamish found a message from Dr. Brodie when he got to the police station, asking him to call urgently.

He said to Sonsie and Lugs, “No, you pair stay here. I think Angela’s had enough of ye.”

As he walked along the waterfront, he felt the village was strangely quiet. Again he was assailed by a feeling of foreboding.

Dr. Brodie led Hamish into his cluttered living room. Cold ash spilled out over the grate.

“What’s the problem?” asked Hamish.

“Several of my male patients have been coming to me with swollen genitalia and inflammation of the urinary tract.”

“So?”

“I treated a case like this when I was much younger and an army doctor. It turned out to be Spanish fly.”

“I’ve read about that somewhere. Isn’t it an aphrodisiac?”

“It’s supposed to be. It’s from a beetle that is crushed into powder. It creates the illusion of increased sexual activity but all it does is harm, and it can damage the kidneys badly.”

“I’ve heard a lot of the men have been visiting Catriona Beldame,” said Hamish. “Do you think she’s been supplying the stuff?”

“I tried to get them to admit it but not one of them would. I believe they think she’s a witch thanks to Angus shooting his mouth off. People here are still very superstitious.”

“I’ll get up to her place right away,” said Hamish. “Either she lets me examine what she’s got in those bottles or I’ll get a search warrant.”

Hamish hurried to the police station to get some material and put in a request for a search warrant, deciding it would be a good idea to get one in case she proved difficult. Then he went along the waterfront, stopping abruptly at the sight of Archie Maclean hurling a small glass bottle into the loch.

“What are you doing?” asked Hamish, hurrying up to him.

“Naethin’. Chust some medicine that didnae work.”

“You got it from the Beldame woman. You, Archie? Wanting to improve your sexual prowess?”

Archie hung his head. “It seemed like the good idea, but, och, herself wasnae having any of it. “Leave me alone,” she says, “or I’ll throw ye in the loch.” I went tae the doctor and he telt me to get rid of it.”

“I wish you’d kept it,” said Hamish. “I’m off up there now to put a stop to her. God, I could kill that woman.”

♦

After Hamish strode off, Archie went into the bar on the waterfront and bought himself a pint of Export. “She’s getting her comeuppance,” he said to the men gathered at the bar. “Our Hamish says he’s going tae kill her.”

♦

Once again Catriona opened the door to Hamish and invited him in. “This is not a social call,” said Hamish, taking out a number of glassine envelopes. “Either you let me examine what you have in those jars or I’ll get a search warrant.”

“My dear man, go right ahead. I have nothing to hide.” Her eyes widened as Hamish took out packets of glassine envelopes and a small spoon. “I’ll just collect a bit of each,” he said, moving towards the shelves.

She darted in front of him.

“Get the search warrant,” she hissed, “and a curse on you.”

“So you do have something to hide.”

“I’ve nothing to hide,” she panted. “I don’t like you ferreting around and poking your nose into my affairs. Get out!”

♦

On his return to the police station, Hamish got a message to phone Blair. Reluctantly, he called police headquarters and was put through to Blair.

“Whit’s this about a search warrant?” chuckled Blair.

“It’s important,” said Hamish.