Death of a Witch by M. C Beaton

Author:M. C Beaton [Beaton, M. C]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Traditional British, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Hamish (Fictitious Character), Highlands, Police, Scotland, Crimes against, MacBeth, Mystery Fiction, FIC022000, Police - Scotland - Highlands, Highlands (Scotland), Police Procedural, Herbalists, Herbalists - Crimes Against
ISBN: 9780446196130
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 2009-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!

—John Dryden

Hamish first went to the police station and got Ruby Connachie’s address from the computer.

Jimmy stepped out in front of the mobile police unit and held up a hand to stop Hamish as he was driving off.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Here, there, and anywhere,” said Hamish, waving a vague hand. “I have to protect Elspeth here and so I’m taking her right out of the village for the day.”

“Okay, off you go, but remember the lassie’s a journalist and don’t be talking off the record.”

“As if I would,” said Hamish piously.

Much as he desperately wanted to solve the murders, Hamish had a guilty feeling of holiday as he drove off. It was like old times to be with Elspeth again. What did she think of him these days? Should he marry her? It would be grand to be married and maybe have a couple of children.

“You’ve got a silly smile on your face,” said Elspeth. “What are you thinking about?”

“The scenery,” lied Hamish. “It’s a grand day.”

“It is indeed,” said Elspeth as they sped up over the heathery hills.

That remark about his silly smile had irked Hamish. The dream of marriage to Elspeth disappeared and he began to wonder if Ruby could actually give them any leads.

Known to the Romans as Bertha from the Celtic Aber The, meaning “the mouth of the River Tay,” Perth has been a Royal Burgh since the thirteenth century and was a royal residence through the middle ages. With its parks and Georgian houses, it is still one of the fairest of Scotland’s cities.

But like all towns and cities in Scotland, it had its housing estates, and it was in one of these that Ruby Connachie lived.

“She must be pretty old by now,” said Elspeth.

“From the reports, I gather she’s eighty-six and got all her marbles—well, those that haven’t been cracked by jealousy.”

“So she was jealous of Catriona?”

“Seems that way. She says Burrell doted on the girl for all he was strict. Here we are. I don’t suppose any of the local police will be visiting her again, so with luck Jimmy will never find out where we have been.”

Ruby lived in a block of “sheltered” housing for the elderly on the estate. Her flat was on the first floor.

Hamish rang the doorbell. There was a long silence.

“I hope the woman’s alive,” whispered Hamish.

“I sense someone in there,” said Elspeth.

After what seemed an age there was a sound of shuffling feet on the other side of the door. Then it creaked open on a chain.

A small, wrinkled face peered up at Hamish. “Who are you?”

Hamish introduced himself but not Elspeth in the hope that she would think Elspeth was a plainclothes policewoman. The door shut, and then came the sound of elderly fingers struggling to undo the chain. The door swung open again, revealing Ruby to be a small, old woman leaning on a Zimmer frame. Her figure was stooped and her grey hair, thin and sparse, showed patches of pink scalp.

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