Free Death of a Dustman by MC Beaton Page A

side. The rain he had expected had not yet arrived although the air was moist and damp.
    After two hours, he was about to give up, when he saw a little spark of colour between the fence posts. He took out a pair of tweezers and eased out a tiny little pink thread of material. It was
so small that when he took the magnifying glass away from his eye, he could barely see it. He put it in a plastic envelope. He would wait until the Curries had finished cleaning and ask them if
they had any idea where it might have come from.
    Angela was glad she had given the children some money for sweets and had sent them off, for Mrs Wellington was trying to persuade Martha that some of Fergus’s clothes
could be cut down for the boys.
    Surprisingly it was Nessie who stood up to the domineering minister’s wife. ‘Leave her be,’ said Nessie firmly. ‘She doesn’t want anything of her man left in the
cottage.’
    ‘Left in the cottage,’ echoed Jessie, and both sisters glared at Mrs Wellington.
    ‘Well, let’s bag up the stuff, and I’ll take it into a charity shop in Strathbane,’ said Mrs Wellington, capitulating.
    The women worked busily, bagging up suits and shirts, socks and underwear. Martha, finding Angela the most sympathetic, kept close to her. In the bedroom Martha had shared with Fergus, Angela
said, ‘The rugs in here could do with throwing out. I’ve got a nice carpet in the loft at home. My husband didn’t like it because it’s bright red, but it’s warm and
cheery. Where did you get these rugs?’
    ‘They’re awful, aren’t they?’ said Martha with a weak smile. ‘Fergus found them in someone’s rubbish at a croft house and brought them home. They’re all
cigarette burns.’
    ‘I’ll take them away and bring you the carpet,’ said Angela. ‘No, please take it. It’s a waste of a good carpet if it stays in my loft. Let’s just roll up
these dreadful rugs.’
    Angela got down on her knees and started to roll up one by the window. ‘There’s a floorboard been sawn here,’ she said. ‘Is this where you hide the family
jewels?’
    Martha walked over and stared down. One of the floorboards had been sawn to make a square like a lid. ‘I never really noticed that before,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry the
floor’s dirty. I was going to wash it, but Fergus shouted at me to leave it alone.’
    ‘Mind if I have a look and see if there’s anything down there?’ asked Angela.
    ‘No, go ahead.’
    ‘I need something to lift it, a screwdriver or something.’
    ‘I’ll get one. There’s a toolbox under the bed.’
    Martha came back after a few moments with a screwdriver. Angela prised up the sawn square of wood. She peered in the cavity. Then she reached down and pulled out a plastic envelope with what
appeared to be several letters in it. Angela peered through the plastic. Some of the letters seemed to be covered in food stains and coffee stains.
    ‘I think if you don’t mind, Martha, I’ll just take this along to Hamish Macbeth. I would let you look at it first, but it might be important, and I don’t want to get too
many fingerprints on it.’
    ‘Go ahead,’ said Martha wearily.
    Angela hurried out and made her way to the police station. A light rain was beginning to fall. Oh well, thought Angela sadly, it’s not often we’ve had a summer like
this one. It couldn’t last forever.
    She saw the tall figure of Hamish in front of her and hurried to catch up with him.
    ‘Hamish,’ she said. ‘Look what I found under the floorboards in Fergus’s bedroom.’
    He took the plastic envelope from her. ‘It seems to be letters, Hamish. There might be a clue.’
    ‘Thanks, Angela. I’ll take it into the station and have a look at it.’
    ‘I’d better get back before Mrs Wellington bullies poor Martha to death!’
    Hamish hurried into the police station, into the office, sat down at his desk and gingerly eased the letters out with the tweezers he had used earlier.
    The first one had