Death of a Maid by M. C. Beaton

Author:M. C. Beaton [BEATON, M. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780759517509
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

“Now what?” asked the manager of the Tommel Castle Hotel when Hamish arrived carrying an overnight bag and followed by his cat and dog.

“I really need a quiet night,” pleaded Hamish, “and I’m not going to get it if I stay at the police station.”

“Oh, all right. I can let you have a spare room, but that’s all you get. Leave the minibar alone, and breakfast is not included in this non-paying visit.”

Elspeth was sitting in the bar with Luke when she saw Hamish arrive and then follow Mr. Johnson up the stairs.

“Back in a minute,” she said to Luke. He barely heard her. He was surrounded by other reporters, and all were busy making up legends about each other. Luke had not repeated his proposal of marriage, and Elspeth assumed he had proffered it because he wanted to tease Hamish. He made a few desultory tries to make love to her which she always rebuffed.

Hamish was just unpacking his bag when Elspeth knocked on his door.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said bleakly. “I was just going to bed. What do you want?”

“I want to talk about the murders.”

“Look, I’ve got a dragon of a police inspector on my back, and I can’t talk to the press.”

“I wanted to talk as friends.”

Hamish looked down at the small figure of Elspeth. She was casually dressed in a white Aran sweater, jeans, and smart black leather boots. Her odd silver eyes studied his face.

“All right,” said Hamish, suddenly remembering how useful Elspeth’s intuition had been in the past. “I can’t offer you a drink because the room’s free and I’ve been told not to touch the minibar.”

“Fine. I see Lugs and Sonsie have made themselves comfortable on the bed. I hope there’s room for you.”

“I’ll just push them to one side.”

There were two easy chairs in front of the window. They both sat down.

“Go ahead,” said Elspeth. “It’s all off the record.”

“Not a word to Luke!”

“Promise.”

Hamish outlined everything he knew. When he finished, Elspeth sat very still. Then she said, “Wouldn’t it be odd if we had two murderers here?”

“How do you mean?”

“Say Professor Sander did pinch that student’s work. He’s a very vain man. I can see him following Mrs. Gillespie down his drive, and overcome with rage, braining her with her bucket. Or Fiona Fleming might really have pushed her husband down the stairs, although I doubt it, and decided to get rid of Mrs. Gillespie once and for all.”

“But what about Shona Fraser?”

“Ah, I’m coming to that. Before she came up here, Shona Fraser worked in London for Trant TV. She worked as a researcher. Now, Trant TV specialises in reality television—you know, fly-on-the wall documentaries, exposures of famous people. They did a scam with that soap actress Bernice James. One of their reporters pretended to be a drug dealer and went to her hotel room to supply her with coke. They had a hidden camera and got her snorting coke on film. What if Shona had found out something

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