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

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?”
    Sonsie appeared in the kitchen and stood glaring.
    “Oh, that’s my cat. Nothing to worry about. Yes, it’s a wild cat. Harmless.”
    Lugs came back into the kitchen and sat beside the cat.
    “There’s some stew left,” said Lesley. “Do you think they would like some?”
    “I’m sure they would.”
    Lesley filled up the animals’ feed bowls with stew. How pretty she looks, thought Hamish, mellowed with food and wine.
    “What made you want to be a policeman in a remote place like this?” asked Lesley. “And I’ve heard gossip about how you keep sidestepping promotion.”
    “It goes a long way back,” said Hamish. “I was a lad in my early teens. Patel’s shop was a greengrocers then but it was going bust. Not much call for fresh vegetables in Lochdubh and folk grew pretty much all they needed. So the owner was selling everything off cheap. My mother drove me over. It was a scorching hot