Free Death of a Witch by M. C. Beaton Page A

casserole in and placed it in the gleaming kitchen. “I heard what she said,” said Fergus when Hamish joined him. “I won’t answer the door.”
    “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.

Chapter Five
    Kissing don’t last! Cookery do.
    —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