Read Online Death of a Witch by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online
Authors: M. C. Beaton
Tags: FIC022000
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anyone,” said Mr. Patel. “I was tired and I must ha’ nodded off. First thing I hear is this scream and Mrs. Wellington shouting at me to call the ambulance and police. Och, Hamish, I feel sick.”
Before Hamish could ask any more questions, a car drove up and Blair got out. “Another murder right under your nose, laddie?”
“I was out on my beat,” said Hamish.
“Out on my beat, what?”
“Out on my beat, sir.”
Blair pushed his way past Mr. Patel and went into the shop. Hamish followed. Looking very small and crumpled in death, Ina Braid lay face down on the shop floor in one of the two small aisles.
Dr. Brodie straightened up. “I suppose the pathologist will be here soon,” he said. “Stabbed right in the back with something long and sharp. You know, sometimes when people have been stabbed, they just go on walking. She could have been stabbed somewhere else.”
“But she’d feel one hell of a sharp pain, not to mention the strength required to deliver the blow.”
“Not necessarily. It doesn’t take much force to stab someone provided the point of the weapon is sharp enough. Just slides in, like stabbing a melon. Oh, here’s Dr. Forsythe.”
“I thought you had resigned,” said Hamish.
Before the pathologist could reply, Blair howled, “Get outside and dinnae stand here gossiping. Someone must have seen someone going in to the shop.”
But there was trouble waiting for both of them when they exited the shop to find a furious Daviot staring at them. “You pair! You went into the crime scene without any protective clothing.”
Blair cringed. “Awfy sorry, sir. I had to get in there fast to make sure Macbeth wasn’t messing up the crime scene.”
“I was outside the shop when you arrived,” protested Hamish.
“Don’t just stand there, Macbeth,” said Daviot. “Find out as quickly as you can who was in the shop with her.”
Hamish turned and addressed the crowd. “Step forward anyone who saw Mrs. Braid in the shop, saw her going into the shop, or saw her at all near the shop.”
Everyone began to edge away except a woman Hamish recognised as Tilly Framont. “I saw her, Hamish,” she said.
Hamish led her away from the shop and took out his notebook. “Where and when was this?”
She frowned with the effort of remembering. “It would ha’ been about five or ten minutes afore I heard the screaming. I didn’t speak to her. Just nodded. She had a basket ower her arm and was hurrying towards the shop.”
“Was anyone else around?”
Tilly was a very small woman wearing a tight old-fashioned tweed coat with square shoulders. Her face had a sort of faded prettiness. She had a woollen hat pulled right down over her head.
“Let me see, Mrs. Wellington was there talking to the Currie sisters. Archie Maclean was heading for the pub. There must have been other folks around but I couldn’t really see, the mist was that thick.”
Hamish saw the Currie sisters retreating along the waterfront in the direction of their cottage. He excused himself, saying he would take a full statement from Tilly later, and hurried off after the sisters.
They heard him coming and swung round.
“You’re not doing your job,” said Nessie.
“Doing your job,” echoed Jessie mournfully.
Hamish found it easier to shut out Jessie’s constant echo of her sister’s last words when he was talking to the twins. Their identical glasses were so thick as they looked up at him that he flinched a bit before two pairs of magnified eyes.
“Tilly Framont said she saw the pair of you on the waterfront just before Ina went into the shop.”
“That right,” said Nessie. “Oh, man, the pity o’ it! There was herself as large as life. She gave us a cheery wave as she went past. Who did it? Must be that husband o’ hers. He aye had a shifty look.”
“Did you see anyone following her?”
“No, it’s right cold, you see, and the mist’s awfy bad. Just the few of us, I think, but with the mist there
Before Hamish could ask any more questions, a car drove up and Blair got out. “Another murder right under your nose, laddie?”
“I was out on my beat,” said Hamish.
“Out on my beat, what?”
“Out on my beat, sir.”
Blair pushed his way past Mr. Patel and went into the shop. Hamish followed. Looking very small and crumpled in death, Ina Braid lay face down on the shop floor in one of the two small aisles.
Dr. Brodie straightened up. “I suppose the pathologist will be here soon,” he said. “Stabbed right in the back with something long and sharp. You know, sometimes when people have been stabbed, they just go on walking. She could have been stabbed somewhere else.”
“But she’d feel one hell of a sharp pain, not to mention the strength required to deliver the blow.”
“Not necessarily. It doesn’t take much force to stab someone provided the point of the weapon is sharp enough. Just slides in, like stabbing a melon. Oh, here’s Dr. Forsythe.”
“I thought you had resigned,” said Hamish.
Before the pathologist could reply, Blair howled, “Get outside and dinnae stand here gossiping. Someone must have seen someone going in to the shop.”
But there was trouble waiting for both of them when they exited the shop to find a furious Daviot staring at them. “You pair! You went into the crime scene without any protective clothing.”
Blair cringed. “Awfy sorry, sir. I had to get in there fast to make sure Macbeth wasn’t messing up the crime scene.”
“I was outside the shop when you arrived,” protested Hamish.
“Don’t just stand there, Macbeth,” said Daviot. “Find out as quickly as you can who was in the shop with her.”
Hamish turned and addressed the crowd. “Step forward anyone who saw Mrs. Braid in the shop, saw her going into the shop, or saw her at all near the shop.”
Everyone began to edge away except a woman Hamish recognised as Tilly Framont. “I saw her, Hamish,” she said.
Hamish led her away from the shop and took out his notebook. “Where and when was this?”
She frowned with the effort of remembering. “It would ha’ been about five or ten minutes afore I heard the screaming. I didn’t speak to her. Just nodded. She had a basket ower her arm and was hurrying towards the shop.”
“Was anyone else around?”
Tilly was a very small woman wearing a tight old-fashioned tweed coat with square shoulders. Her face had a sort of faded prettiness. She had a woollen hat pulled right down over her head.
“Let me see, Mrs. Wellington was there talking to the Currie sisters. Archie Maclean was heading for the pub. There must have been other folks around but I couldn’t really see, the mist was that thick.”
Hamish saw the Currie sisters retreating along the waterfront in the direction of their cottage. He excused himself, saying he would take a full statement from Tilly later, and hurried off after the sisters.
They heard him coming and swung round.
“You’re not doing your job,” said Nessie.
“Doing your job,” echoed Jessie mournfully.
Hamish found it easier to shut out Jessie’s constant echo of her sister’s last words when he was talking to the twins. Their identical glasses were so thick as they looked up at him that he flinched a bit before two pairs of magnified eyes.
“Tilly Framont said she saw the pair of you on the waterfront just before Ina went into the shop.”
“That right,” said Nessie. “Oh, man, the pity o’ it! There was herself as large as life. She gave us a cheery wave as she went past. Who did it? Must be that husband o’ hers. He aye had a shifty look.”
“Did you see anyone following her?”
“No, it’s right cold, you see, and the mist’s awfy bad. Just the few of us, I think, but with the mist there