Death of a Policeman by M. C. Beaton

Author:M. C. Beaton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2014-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

He had expected a tall beauty like Anna Eskdale, but Katerina was small and a blonde with large blue eyes with a black ring round the iris. Mr. Johnson led him into the hotel lounge and introduced him.

“Why do you want a policeman to tell you about the neighbourhood?” said Hamish, removing his cap and sitting down opposite her.

“These leaflets are so…well…impersonal,” she said.

Her voice had a lowland accent.

“Where are you from?” asked Hamish.

“My family is from Poland originally.”

“You speak English very well.”

She gave a gurgle of laughter. “I should. I am an English teacher. I was brought up in Scotland.”

“And what is your interest in the Highlands at this cold, dreary time of year?”

“I have always been in love with the romance of the Highlands—Bonnie Prince Charlie, Robert Burns…”

“Robert Burns was an Ayrshire man.”

“I meant Rob Roy.”

“Rob Roy was a two-faced cattle thief and he hailed from the Trossachs, well south of here, in fact, about half an hour’s drive from Glasgow.”

She looked at him sadly. “I see I cannot deceive you.”

“Why should you even try?” asked Hamish.

“The truth hurts.”

“Try me.”

“I have run away from my husband. This was as far as I could think to go. To be safe, I thought it might be a good idea to get friendly with a policeman.”

“And where is your husband?”

“In Edinburgh. We are both second-generation Polish.”

“So you could take out a restraining order against him.”

“I did that. But he still frightens me.”

Hamish took out his notebook. “Is Drinsky your married name?”

“Yes, but…”

“Address? The one in Edinburgh.”

“One-Sixty-Five-B Herry Street,” she said in a low voice.

“And whereabouts in Edinburgh is that?”

“Off Leith Walk.”

“And are you really an English teacher?”

She burst into tears.

Hamish watched her carefully. He signalled to Mr. Johnson, who was lurking at the doorway.

“We need a box of tissues,” he said.

A honey trap, thought Hamish. And a very clumsy one, too. When the box of tissues arrived, he said harshly, “Dry your eyes and stop acting!”

Then there came the sound of raised voices. A burly young man erupted into the room and raced towards Katerina. “Slut!” he yelled.

Hamish tripped him up, dropped on top of him, and handcuffed him.

He looked up at Katerina. “Is this your husband?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

So much for my bloody highland intuition, thought Hamish. He called Strathbane and said he was bringing someone in. A charge of attempted assault.

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