up.”
“Another dead end,” mourned Jimmy. “You get back to Lochdubh and question the folks there and I’ll go back to Drumlie Road and see if the neighbours know anything.”
? Death of a Witch ?
4
– George Meredith
A small sun was shining through a thin veil of mist when Hamish returned to Lochdubh, creating that odd white light so typical of the north of Scotland. He could never quite get used to the mercurial changes of weather in his home county. It was hard to believe that a wind had ever blown across the still landscape. Everything was hushed and frozen as he got out of the Land Rover in front of the police station. No bird sang. There wasn’t even anyone on the waterfront.
Hamish wondered where all the press had gone and why there was not even one sign of Blair and his policemen.
Then as he stood there, he realised how bitterly, bit-ingly cold it had become. He decided to collect his pets and set off to see the forestry worker before the mist became any thicker. He drove round the end of the loch, round to the other side, and stopped outside the forestry foreman’s office. Hamish blessed the invention of mobile phones when the foreman rang Timmy Teviot and told him to come down to the office. It saved him from driving up the tracks, trying to find the man.
Timmy Teviot was small, thin, and wiry with grizzled hair and a weather-beaten face. “Let’s step outside the office,” said Hamish. “I’ve a few questions to ask you.”
Timmy followed him outside and lit up a cigarette. Hamish had a sudden sharp longing for one. He found it hard to believe that he had given up smoking some time ago.
“It’s about Catriona Beldame, the murdered woman,” Hamish began.
“And what has that got to do with me?” demanded Timmy. His voice was soft and lilting.
“I believe you went to the woman for one of her potions.”
“Who’s the wee gossip then?” demanded Timmy. “I’ll bet it was yon blabbermouth Willie Lamont.”
“Never you mind. I want to know what happened when you went to see her.”
“I went to see her for the indigestion…”
“Not again,” said Hamish. “Out with it. What did you really go and see her for?”
Timmy sighed and sat down on a tree stump. “I heard talk that she could make you like a stallion. But it didnae work and all I got was a visit to the doctor. I went back up there and asked for my money back. She laughed at me. Well, I’ll be honest wi’ ye, Hamish. I threatened her. She looked at me peculiar and said she’d put a curse on me. I’m telling you, I ran for my life. But I didn’t kill her. I cannae stand up in court and give any evidence. If anyone got to hear of it, they’d laugh their heads off.”
“Do you know of anyone else who threatened her?”
“None of them want to talk about it. You don’t when someone’s made a right fool of ye.”
“Do you know anything about a brothel?”
“I wouldn’t know about such things.”
¦
Hamish dressed carefully that evening in his one good suit for his date with Lesley Seaton. He left in plenty of time, for the mist had thickened. As he drove slowly and cautiously towards Braikie, he began to worry about Lesley, motoring in this weather and maybe not being familiar with the road. He wished he’d taken a note of her mobile phone number.
By the time he arrived at the hotel, thick white frost had formed on the leaves of the rhododendrons on either side of the drive.
He was ushered into the hotel lounge to wait. A log fire was crackling up the chimney. To his relief, Lesley arrived five minutes later. She took off her heavy coat, revealing a plain black wool sweater and black corduroy trousers and serviceable boots. Her face was free of any make-up. Not hopeful signs, thought Hamish, who was always on the lookout for a new romance.
“So, any more news?” he asked as they walked into the dining room.
“Nothing much apart from a furious bollocking from Blair. He really does hate you. She had been viciously stabbed by someone in a rage. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact time of death but from the report of the contents of her stomach, or rather what they could guess the contents were from a charred body, I guess it was sometime during the night and when she was asleep. There are no defensive wounds. I think it was the first stab that killed her, right in the heart.”
“I’ve been thinking about the fire,” said Hamish. “At first I thought it was done in a last-minute panic to cover up any forensic evidence, but now I wonder. Potassium nitrate isn’t just lying around. Someone had to have ordered it. Someone had to have got a key to the place somehow. I don’t want it to turn out to be one of the villagers, but a lot of people still leave a key in the gutter above the door. I do myself. Maybe someone knew about a spare key. Catriona was a stranger. She wouldn’t think of searching in the gutter. Anyway, her name, last known was a Mrs. McBride. She performed an illegal abortion on a woman who subsequently bled to death.”
“There’s no need for back-street abortions these days,” said Lesley. “Shall we order? The waiter’s hovering and we’re the only customers.”
It was a set menu. They ordered game soup, followed by roast rabbit and a bottle of Merlot.
When the waiter had left, Hamish said, “It was evidently a doctor’s wife who went on the game to make a bit of extra money. She was afraid her husband would find out, him being in the Freemasons and the Rotary Club. But it’s a good motive for murder.”
“So you’d better find out who this doctor is.”
“Jimmy’s working on it,” said Hamish.
He had to admit that she looked quite pretty in the soft lighting of the dining room. He wondered if she had a boyfriend. Maybe she was married! He judged her to be about the same thirty-something age as himself.
She was not wearing any rings but that might not mean anything. She would not wear rings when she was working.
“I just hope it doesn’t turn out to be someone in the village,” said Hamish. “Maybe she was married. Are you married yourself?”
“Was. Not now. The food here is very good.”
Recognising a no-go area, Hamish ate steadily and then returned to discussing the case. “It was really meant to look like a hate murder. And the fire…I wonder if someone really cold and calculating, and knowing about the superstition of the villagers, staged that fire when it would have the most effect.”
“You mean the wrath of God?”
“Or the devil come up from hell to take her home.”
“How can you live in such a place?”
“You are not a highlander, are you?” asked Hamish.
Those large blue eyes stared at him. “What’s that to do with it? I’m from Perth, actually.”
“Strange things do happen up here. I think it’s to do with the rock. It’s some of the oldest in the world and the soil on top is very thin. I sometimes think the ground in some places records strong feelings. You can go up some of the remote glens and get an overwhelming feeling of tragedy and then you find out that glen was the scene of a massacre after Culloden when the Duke of Cumberland’s troops were not just routing the last of Prince Charlie’s supporters but killing indiscriminately.”
“Fanciful,” she said briskly, “but hard to believe.”
“Oh, it helps to keep an open mind. How are you getting on in your job?”
“Well. I don’t drink to excess and I don’t play rugby and I’m a female. They play silly tricks on me and it’s getting wearisome. I’d like to see this case through to the end and then I think I’ll get a transfer to Strathclyde.”
“Anything that could be described as sexual harassment?”
