“So, Fergus,” said Hamish patiently, “rack your brains. Did Ina have any enemies?”
“No.”
“Did she have anything to do with Catriona Beldame?”
“No, I mean she wouldn’t.”
“She might have gone there for something like a love potion.”
“What for? Me? Ah, well, you’re not married, are you?”
Hamish continued to question him. He asked if there were any letters he could see but Fergus shook his head and said they hadn’t a computer, either.
Hamish at last rose. He turned in the doorway. Fergus was studying a TV guide. “Man, there’s American football on tonight,” he crowed.
There’s a man who looks as if he’s just been let out of prison rather than having lost a wife, thought Hamish.
? Death of a Witch ?
5
– George Meredith
Hamish was surprised when he returned to the police station to find not one single hectoring message from Blair on his answering service. Then he decided that it was because the chief detective inspector wanted to keep both murder cases firmly to himself.
Jimmy came in after him without knocking and sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh.
“What a day!”
“Got any background on Catriona?”
“A bit. She was married to a Rory McBride, crofter of Inverness. Maiden name was Catriona Burrell.”
“On the police records?”
“Nearly but not quite.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gimme a whisky and I’ll tell you.”
“One of these days,” said Hamish, lifting down a bottle of whisky from a kitchen cupboard, “Blair’s going to die of acute alcoholism and you’ll find a hellfire teetotaller is your new boss. Probably a woman. And she’ll have you in rehab as fast as anything.”
“When Blair pushes off, I’ll get his job. I’m practising my funny handshake already.”
“You’re never going to join the Masons!”
“If it was good enough for Rabbie Burns, it’s good enough for me. Just joking.”
“So,” said Hamish as Jimmy took a first gulp of whisky, “tell me what you meant about Catriona.”
“She was in Drumnadrochit not long after her separation, right down at the end of Loch Ness. Police got a rumour she was pushing drugs – Ecstasy. Two detectives got a search warrant and went along. One of them phones in to say they’ve found a stash of the stuff and they’re bringing her in. An hour later, the other one phones back and said they’d made a mistake and there were no drugs in the cottage at all.”
“Who are these detectives?”
“Detective Sergeant Paul Simmonds and Detective Constable Peter Lyon.”
“Odd.”
“Wait a bit. There’s more. You’re going to love this. Although the cottage is a bit isolated, folks walking back to the local hotel said they heard the noise of a party going on. Lights shining, music blaring. Then two men staggered out and one shouts back, “See you soon, Catriona.” The men answered the descriptions of the two detectives. A waitress at the hotel was walking to her evening shift as well. Evidently her husband had been visiting Catriona and she was jealous. So she phoned it in. More police were sent but there wasn’t a drug to be found although they took that cottage apart. Shortly after that, Catriona disappeared.”
“And what happened to the detectives?”
“Suspended from duty pending an enquiry. Nothing found against them. Simmonds is now working as a security guard in Glasgow and Lyon got a transfer to Edinburgh.”
“She could hardly have had much custom to peddle drugs in a wee place like Drumnadrochit,” said Hamish.
“There was a rumour she had been seen at a couple of the clubs in Inverness. I’m telling you, Hamish. Wi’ a woman like that, anyone out of her past could have had it in for her.”
“I hope it is someone from her past,” said Hamish.
“What’s this? You’ve cracked at last and think one of your precious peasants could be a murderer?”
“Let’s hope not.”
¦
After Jimmy had left, Hamish was wondering what to eat. He had frozen food in the freezer out in the shed in the garden but he didn’t feel like defrosting anything. There was a knock at the door.
He was half tempted to ignore it, fearing Blair had decided that some Hamish baiting was called for, but after a short hesitation, he opened it and found Lesley on the doorstep carrying a large pot.
She seemed almost shy, and avoiding his gaze she said, “I made too much beef stew and I wondered if you would like some.”
“Bring it in,” said Hamish. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“Then we’ll have our dinner together. The stove’s hot. Just put the pot on top.”
“Right. I’ve got some wine in the car.”
“Now, is this wise?” Hamish asked Lugs. “But that stew smells wonderful.” Lesley came back brandishing a bottle, which she put on the table. Hamish helped her off with her coat. She was wearing a lime-green woollen dress that clung to her ample curves.
“So how are things going?” asked Hamish.
She pulled a flowered pinafore out of her capacious handbag and put it on. She went to the stove and began to stir the stew. When did I last see a woman under sixty in a pinafore? wondered Hamish. And oh, the aroma on that stew! Was anything ever more seductive than a curvaceous woman in a pinny bent over a stove?
“As you’ve probably already been told, the weapon used was something very thin and sharp. Although she was wearing a tweed coat, it would not take all that much force. It was driven straight through her back and pierced her heart.”
“But could she have gone on walking after being stabbed?”
“Not in this case. I think she died instantly and in the shop. I gather the thick fog is the trouble. Someone could easily have followed her in and got out again quickly and the fact that Patel was asleep was a bonus.”
“But why her?” asked Hamish, laying out plates, knives, and forks and then searching for wineglasses. “I can understand someone wanting to kill Catriona. She seems to have been a right evil woman.”
“Say this Ina Braid knew something and had to be silenced,” suggested Lesley. “The stew’s hot enough. Pass me the plates.”
“I don’t like that idea,” said Hamish. “Not a bit.”
“Why?”
“If Catriona was murdered by someone from her past, he wouldn’t hang around the village. Your idea makes it look like someone local.”
Lesley dished out the stew and they ate in silence, Hamish relishing every delicious morsel.
When they had finished eating, she collected the plates and put them in the sink. “Back in a minute,” she said. “I’ve got the dessert and coffee in the car.”
Refusing Hamish’s offer of help, she went out and then returned carrying a cheesecake on a plate and a thermos of coffee.
“You’re spoiling me, lassie,” said Hamish.
“It’s the least I can do after that meal you bought me,” said Lesley. “My God! What’s that?”
