Death of a Scriptwriter by M. C. Beaton

Author:M. C. Beaton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Detective, Police Procedural, Detective and mystery stories, Police, Mystery & Detective, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - Police Procedural, MacBeth, Fiction, Hamish (Fictitious character), Traditional British, Mystery & Detective - Series, Crime & mystery, Crime & Thriller, General, Mystery & Detective - Traditional British, Highlands (Scotland)
ISBN: 9780446606981
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 1999-06-01T03:52:34.070000+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Nay, Nay! You must not hastily

To such conclusions jump.

—Lewis Carroll

“Don’t you want to get a lawyer?” asked Hamish Macbeth as he drove Patricia towards Drim.

“I hate lawyers,” said Patricia, stifling a yawn. “Oh, why did that wretched man want to see me now? I could have done with a few hours’ sleep.”

“Once your interrogation is over,” said Hamish, “it might be a good idea if you just get on with your writing and forget about the television thing. All this has been driving you frantic.”

“But not enough to murder anyone,” said Patricia sharply. “People of my generation do not murder.”

Hamish thought briefly of several well-known murderers of Patricia’s generation but refrained from telling her about them. He was glad of an opportunity to go to Drim again to see what he could find out.

But he found he was not being allowed to sit in on the interview with Patricia. “We’ve got enough people here,” snarled Blair.

Hamish wandered outside the castle. Sheila came up to him. Her bright blue eyes looked up into his own. “There’s something you should know,” she said in a low voice. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

They walked past various members of the television company, most of whom seemed to have mobile phones glued to their ears. “Do they need to use these phones so much?” asked Hamish curiously. “Mobile phone calls are expensive.”

“You know what we say in the business?” said Sheila wryly. “If we don’t use our mobile phones at least every fifteen minutes, our self-esteem drops.”

They walked towards the village. Various members of the press were circling around like jackals, cameramen lugged their equipment, television news crews had their vans parked along the road leading to the castle.

“What a circus,” said Sheila. “How long will they stay?”

“A few days,” said Hamish, “and then some other news will take them all away.” He looked around. “No one about. So what do you have to tell me?”

“Well, don’t let anyone know where you got this information from. Harry Frame called us all together and said none of us were to talk to the police or the press. We should all stick together.”

“So what’s your news?”

“Some of the crew were in the restaurant and heard Penelope telling Gervase she wouldn’t act with him any longer.”

“We know that.”

“But Gervase was heard threatening to kill her.”

They walked on in silence. Then Hamish said, “It might mean nothing at all. People get angry and say, “I’ll kill you,” quite a lot. She said she would get you fired. Did you threaten to kill her?”

“No, of course not…Oh, my God!”

“You did?”

“I had a row with her, and as I left her caravan, I shouted, “I hope you break your neck.” I was thinking about the shoot up on the mountain, which was scheduled for the following day.”

“I can’t help thinking about the first murder,” said Hamish slowly. “I’m uneasy about that.”

“You think Josh didn’t do it?”

“The only evidence is that blood on his hands. Blair was so keen to wrap the thing up that he didn’t look any further.

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