Death of a Celebrity by M. C Beaton

Author:M. C Beaton [Beaton, M. C]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Contemporary, Humour
ISBN: 9780446612043
Google: jPZSewAACAAJ
Amazon: 0446612049
Barnesnoble: 0446612049
Goodreads: 18448
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 2002-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

NINE

I will make you brooches and toys for your delight

Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.

I will make a palace fit for you and me

Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.

I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,

Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom.

—R. L. Stevenson

Carson read Hamish’s report with great irritation. He had put Hamish down as some fool whose previous exploits in police work had been much exaggerated. But once again the village constable had come up with something important that they had missed.

He decided it was time he had a face-to-face talk with Hamish.

Unfortunately for Hamish, he was strolling back to the station in an old shirt and stained trousers, swinging an empty feed pail, when Carson arrived.

“Not in uniform, Officer?” demanded Carson.

“Well, no,” said Hamish with a blinding smile, a sure sign he was about to lie. “It is my day off.”

“In the middle of an investigation of two murders, all leave has been cancelled.”

“Is that a fact?” Hamish put the pail down. “And here’s me thinking I had orders to stay off the case.”

Carson looked at him with irritation. Hamish was tall with a friendly face and hazel eyes fringed with thick eyelashes. His red hair gleamed like a beacon. Carson thought, illogically, that no decent policeman should have hair that fiery colour.

“I got your report, Macbeth,” said Carson. “I would like to discuss it with you.”

“I’ve got some coffee keeping warm on the stove, sir,” said Hamish. “We’ll go in.”

Carson followed him into the kitchen. He sat down and looked about him. There was a smell of damp dog and woodsmoke. The table was covered with a red and white checked cloth. White painted shelves held glasses and crockery. There was a wood-burning stove sending out a pleasant heat. An old round clock tick-tocked on the wall near the door. Through the window, he could see sheep cropping the grass on a field at the back.

“Your sheep?” he asked.

“Aye,” said Hamish.

“Won’t be bringing you anything these days.”

“That’s the pity o’ it.” Hamish filled two mugs with coffee and placed them on the table. Then he took a bottle of milk out of the fridge, emptied some of it into a jug, and then placed the jug along with a bowl of sugar on the table.

“The longer I keep those sheep,” said Hamish, “the more they take on individual personalities. I am afraid they will stay out there until they die of old age.”

“You do not strike me as a sentimental man.”

“I’m a practical one, sir. No use slaughtering the beasts for a few pennies.”

Hamish sat down opposite Carson. Carson frowned. He should have asked permission to sit down, but then it was the man’s own house, and Carson had come for a friendly chat.

“Can you tell me,” he began, “why Grace Witherington, with a mobile police van outside her house, should choose to phone you with this information?”

“I had been chatting to Professor Tully. He was on that Gaelic programme with her.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.