Free Death of a Valentine by MC Beaton Page B

the edges of the table. The three-piece suite was in red leather, and the haircord brown fitted carpet was covered in hooked rugs.
Hamish reflected she had probably made them herself. He had seen many like them at church sales. One bar was lit in an electric heater in front of the fireplace. The mantel was covered in little
glass figures: he noticed a Bambi and a Snow White along with the Seven Dwarfs.
    On a round table by the window was a cut-glass vase full of silk flowers. To one side of the fireplace was a large flat-screen television.
    Hamish removed his cap and sat down on the sofa. The leather made an embarrassing fart noise. Cora stood in front of the fireplace. She was a stocky woman with bright blonde hair set in tight
curls over a pugnacious face. She had small blue suspicious-looking eyes.
    ‘Well, Constable? ’ she demanded.
    Hamish repressed a sigh. From his experience councillors like Jamie Baxter, no matter how easy-going, often had wives who considered themselves a cut above the local community.
    He stood up and approached her, looming over her. It had the desired effect.
    ‘Oh, do sit down,’ said Cora. Hamish went back to the sofa, which welcomed his bottom with a loud raspberry. Cora sat in one of the leather armchairs, but the chair, no doubt knowing
what was due to her dignity, did not make a sound.
    Hamish opened his notebook. ‘I am making inquiries about Annie Fleming.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Did you phone Mrs Freemont and tell her that her husband had been seen going into Annie Fleming’s house to spend the afternoon with her? I must remind you that phone calls can be
checked.’
    ‘Well, I felt it my duty,’ said Cora truculently.
    ‘Do you know if this happened more than once?’
    ‘I only saw him the one time.’
    ‘And when was this?’
    ‘About a month ago.’
    ‘Any other men?’
    ‘Just once. An unsavoury-looking character. He had gelled hair and one of those black leather jackets. I would say he was around thirty years old.’
    Jake, thought Hamish bitterly. That’s a dead end in every sense.
    ‘What did you think of Annie?’ asked Hamish. ‘And did you tell any of this to her parents?’
    ‘First, I did mention both visits to her parents. Her father was furious with me. He said his daughter was pure and I was a malicious woman who would burn in hellfire. Annie wouldn’t
burn anywhere, she was as cold as ice – butter wouldn’t have melted in that girl’s mouth. I saw them going off to the kirk a few Sundays before she died. Mr and Mrs Fleming put
their noses in the air. But Annie turned round and gave me a nasty little smile before she walked on. I thought she was a devious tart.’
    ‘Why didn’t you tell the police any of this?’ demanded Hamish. ‘You’ve been withholding vital evidence.’
    ‘I wasn’t going to sully her memory until after the funeral.’
    ‘But you did just that by phoning Mrs Freemont, and by trying to blacken the girl’s name with her parents. Is there anything more?’
    ‘No, but I don’t like your attitude. Do remember my husband is a town councillor.’
    ‘Which means damn all in a murder investigation,’ said Hamish, and warned her he would be back to ask her more questions later.
    Outside, he phoned Jimmy. ‘Any news about the murder?’
    ‘Nothing. That old woman might have been left there till she died o’ shock and starvation if we hadn’t searched all the flats opposite and found her. She’s in hospital
for observation but she’s a game auld bird and I think she’ll survive the shock all right. He never took the balaclava off but she said he was pretty well built and wearing a black
sweater and black trousers.’
    ‘Surely someone saw a man with a rifle running along the street?’
    ‘From the initial SOCO report, he went down the stairs, out the back way, and over the wall. There’s a lane that runs along the back. Neighbours heard a motorbike roaring
off.’
    ‘If I were you I’d check out those two pubs