Free Death of a Maid by MC Beaton Page A

flushed slightly as Hamish walked into the newspaper office.
    ‘I need your help,’ said Hamish.
    ‘And we need yours.’ Luke was sitting next to Elspeth, and he draped a long arm around her shoulders. ‘We just filed a story, but it’s very thin.’
    ‘You’ll get what I’ve got when I get it,’ said Hamish. ‘Elspeth knows that. All right. It’ll soon come out, so you can have this, only don’t quote me.
Mrs Samson collected a packet from the solicitor. Mrs Gillespie had left it with him, saying she wanted it posted to Mrs Samson. The solicitor phoned Mrs Samson, who took a cab round on the day of
the fire and picked up the package herself. Now, if Mrs Gillespie was a blackmailer – and that’s sheer speculation, although she had more in her bank account than a cleaner should have
– someone might have thought Mrs Samson now had incriminating papers and set her house on fire. The solicitor is a Mr James Bennet. I’ll give you his phone number. Phone him for
confirmation, and then about the blackmail business put it down to “sources” in Braikie. Oh, and ask the solicitor what size the package was. Mrs Samson says she never even looked at it
and it was in the house when it burned down, but she could be lying and it could be in the large handbag she was carrying.’
    ‘Great stuff,’ said Luke. ‘I’ll get on to it, Elspeth, if you help the copper here with what he wants.’
    ‘What is it you want, Hamish?’ asked Elspeth, shrugging Luke’s arm off her shoulders.
    ‘I want to check the newspaper files to see if any of the suspects ever did anything worth a mention.’
    ‘You don’t need me,’ said Elspeth. ‘You need Terry the Geek. Terry!’
    A thin young man with a bad case of acne and hair as red as Hamish’s came to join them from the back of the office.
    ‘This is Terry,’ said Elspeth. ‘Mrs MacKay’s boy. He’s organized the whole system.’
    ‘I didn’t recognize you,’ said Hamish. ‘It seems the last time I saw you, you were just a lad.’
    Terry grinned sheepishly. ‘How can I help you?’
    ‘I’ve some names I want you to look up,’ said Hamish. ‘I want to see if any of them appeared in the newspaper at any time.’
    ‘Come over to my computer, and I’ll search for you.’
    ‘I can’t see how it can work,’ said Hamish. ‘I mean, won’t it be a long job of trawling through paper after paper?’
    ‘Not a bit of it,’ said Terry proudly. ‘I’ve organized it by names, places and subject.’
    ‘Let’s start.’ Hamish sat down beside him in front of a computer. ‘Mrs Fiona Fleming, formerly Mrs Bernie Fleming.’
    Terry’s long bony fingers flicked over the keys. ‘Do you mind being called Terry the Geek?’ asked Hamish. ‘Highland nicknames can be a bit cruel.’
    ‘I take it as a compliment. Anyway, this lot in Lochdubh couldn’t tell one end of a computer from another.’
    ‘Some of them got computers when they were all trying to write books.’
    ‘Aye, but the novelty soon wore off and highland lethargy settled in. Here we are. Her husband fell downstairs. Verdict: accidental death.’
    ‘I know that one. Anything else?’
    ‘Seems to be all.’
    ‘What have you got on Mrs Mavis Gillespie?’
    ‘Wait a bit. Oh, here’s something. Last year she was down in Strathbane shopping. Speeding car mounted the pavement and nearly killed her. She jumped back just in time.’
    ‘Let me see.’
    Terry angled the screen towards Hamish. Hamish looked at the date. The incident had taken place in August the previous year when he was off on a fishing holiday.
    Mrs Gillespie had been waiting to cross the road at the junction of Glebe Street and Thomson Street. She had leapt back just in time. She said she was so shocked that the make of the car
hadn’t registered with her. She said it was large and black. Police decided the driver had probably been drunk, for who would want to kill Mrs Gillespie?
    ‘I’ll get the police reports on that,’ muttered