Death of a Dustman by M. C Beaton

Author:M. C Beaton [Beaton, M. C]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Police Procedural
ISBN: 9780446609319
Google: BKqKU1GidcgC
Amazon: 0446609315
Barnesnoble: 0446609315
Goodreads: 897136
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2001-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Now, thieving Time, take what you must —

Quickness to hear, to move, to see;

When dust is drawing near to dust

Such dimunitions needs must be.

Yet leave, O leave exempt from plunder

My curiosity, my wonder!

—Mark Antony DeWolfe Howe

Jimmy Anderson called in to the police station that evening. He was unshaven and looked tired.

“Anything?” asked Hamish.

“Just it’s beginning to look as if it was done by someone who knew what they were doing. I mean, it was planned.”

“How do you make that out?”

“Any whisky?”

Hamish went to the cupboard and took down the whisky bottle and set it and a glass in front of the detective.

Jimmy poured a glass and leaned back in his chair. “All the surfaces in that kitchen and the doorknob had been wiped, and he or they, on the road out, wiped the floor behind them as they went.”

“There’s something I’d better tell you,” said Hamish. “The new schoolteacher. It might be important. I think it’s nothing. Her name’s Moira Cartwright. She was married to a criminal, but a long time ago. She worked in Dingwall and while in Dingwall, she was blackmailed. The police set up a trap but never got the man.”

“So it could have been Fergus?”

“Could have been. Just before he left Dingwall.”

“So why haven’t we seen a report on this?”

“Because I couldn’t see a motive.” Because, thought Hamish wearily, I’m still protecting the blackmailed of the village. And I promised myself I would only hold on to that information for one day, and now there’s been another murder.

“I can see a motive,” said Jimmy. “You’re slipping. She wants a nice wee job up here and comes up afore-hand. Bound to have. Got to see the schoolhouse. See where all her stuff will go. Fergus recognises her. Says if you don’t pay up, I’ll tell the village about your evil husband.”

“I thought of all that. If she went to the police in Dingwall, then she would have come straight to me.”

“Still, I’d have a word with her.”

“Why isn’t Blair here annoying me?”

“He’s got to walk on eggshells. That Annie Robinson stuff. Our man didn’t find that. You did. Daviot’s singing your praises. You aren’t holding anything back?”

Hamish longed to tell him about the letters, but once again he promised himself, just one more day.

He shook his head. “All I can think of is asking and asking. Often there’s something that people have seen or heard that didn’t seem important at the time. What about that Greek at the hotel? What do we know of him?”

“I’ve been to see him. So has Blair. Wealthy man. Owns four hotels in Scotland. Makes them pay all right.”

“Any good? His hotels, I mean. Will the new one be competition for the Tommel Castle Hotel?”

Jimmy gave his foxy grin. “I know you, Hamish Macbeth, and I know the way that Highland brain of yours is working. You’re praying it’s some outsider. Nasty foreign hotel owner plans to ruin the Tommel Castle, so Fergus finds out and blackmails owner and owner hires goons to bump him off.

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