Death of a Maid | Chapter 13 of 17 - Part: 1 of 10

Author: M.C. Beaton | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 4743 Views | Add a Review

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Chapter Eight

I do not mind lying, but I hate inaccuracy.

—Samuel Butler

Hamish waited patiently for the forensic team to arrive. Geordie lit a cigarette, and Hamish sniffed the air longingly. He wondered if the occasional craving for a cigarette would ever leave him.

“Geordie,” he said, “I was going to leave this until later, but I’ll need to have a wee talk with you about the treatment of your wife.”

“Whit!”

“As far as I can see, you keep her a sort of prisoner. Why shouldn’t she take the car and go shopping if she feels like it?”

“She’ll meet ither men. She’ll waste my money on baubles.”

“Church-goer, are you?” asked Hamish.

“I am a staunch member of the Free Presbyterians.”

“I might have thought you a member of the Taliban. Your wife’s a decent middle-aged woman. The way you’ve ruined her looks is enough to put any man off.”

“What are you talking about? I treat that woman fair and decent. She gets three meals a day.”

“You’re out o’ the Dark Ages, that’s what you are,” said Hamish bitterly. “And you need some sort of therapy. I’ll be having a word with your minister.”

“Be damned to ye! Ye are an emissary of Satan.” Geordie swung a punch at Hamish, who dodged it neatly.

“Try that again,” said Hamish, “and I’ll arrest you for assaulting a police officer. I’m telling you, Geordie, you’ve been stuck up here for so long wi’ nothing but your sheep and that poor wife of yours and it’s fair turned your brain. Here come the forensics.”

Mary was with them. As they got to work, she looked suspiciously at Hamish. “I don’t trust you, Macbeth,” she said. “I think you are holding back information.”

“Why?”

“I don’t believe in coincidence. You happen to be in a restaurant in Strathbane when Dr. Renfrew and Mrs. Fleming are having a row. You happen suddenly to remember a television programme on malpractice, and now you suddenly discover that this man’s Land Rover could have been driven on the night of Shona Fraser’s murder.”

“I didnae know anything about this Land Rover. You told me there had been a burglary and sent me off to investigate,” said Hamish.

“Maybe you’re just lucky. Get along with you. Write up your reports at the police station and leave them for me at the mobile unit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hamish touched his cap and headed off to his own vehicle.

As he was driving into Lochdubh, he saw the long, low Presbyterian church and stopped abruptly. The minister’s house was at the side of it, a modern bungalow with plaster gnomes in the garden. Hamish wondered why plaster gnomes were not considered too frivolous.

The door was opened by a pretty young woman. She had rosy cheeks and a mop of glossy brown curls.

“I saw you admiring the gnomes,” she said cheerfully. “Aren’t they awful? One of the parishioners gave them to Murdo, so we have to display them. You’re Hamish Macbeth. We met last year at Jaunty Sinclair’s wedding.”

“Of course! You’re the minister’s wife.”

“That’s me. Murdo’s out on his rounds. Can I help you?”

“You might be the very person.”

“Come in. I was just about to have a cup of coffee.”

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Alice
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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