Death of a Dreamer by MC Beaton Read Free Book Online Page B

was she doing up here? Suicide? Took something with that wine?’
    ‘Could be. She was obsessed with Jock Fleming, a painter who’s visiting here. She told everyone she was engaged to him and flashed a diamond ring around. He denies the whole thing.
She may have bought the ring herself. Mind you, there’s a photo by her bedside signed, “To my darling Effie. Jock”.’
    They both began to search in wider circles around the body. ‘There’s a plastic carrier bag over here with two glasses in it,’ called Hamish. ‘They look clean. Don’t
think anyone drank out of them.’
    They were sweating in the full heat of the sun. There is practically no pollution in the far north of Scotland, and the sun that day was fierce.
    ‘You’d think it would be cooler this far up,’ complained Jimmy. ‘We’d better not mess up the scene. Let’s sit over there where your girlfriend is and get a
bit of shade.’
    They joined Priscilla. ‘Find anything?’ she asked.
    ‘No,’ said Jimmy. ‘We can’t do anything until the experts arrive.’
    A helicopter hovered overhead, and a ladder descended. Dr Brodie scrambled down it.
    ‘Where’s the pathologist?’ asked Hamish.
    ‘Coming along,’ said Dr Brodie. ‘I’m to do the preliminary examination.’
    He turned Effie over. ‘We need a tent or something. The body’s cooking in this sun. It’s still damp underneath. She must have lain here since that awful rain. Maybe exposure. I
can certify her dead, but that’s it.’
    ‘No sign of poisoning?’ asked Hamish. ‘There’s a wine bottle there. And that missing finger: Has it been sawn off, or did some animal bite it off?’
    ‘I would say it has been hacked off with a penknife. That’s the finger she had the engagement ring on.’
    ‘If she was suicidal,’ said Jimmy, ‘then maybe she hacked it off herself.’
    ‘So where is it?’ asked Hamish. ‘I suppose it would be all right to look in her coat pockets in case there’s a suicide note.’
    ‘I can see the forensic boys suiting up down below,’ said Jimmy. ‘They’re starting to get into the police helicopter. No climbing for them.’
    Hamish went back to the body. ‘I’ll just take a peek.’ Flies were buzzing around it, and he flapped at them angrily.
    Effie was wearing a waxed coat with zip pockets. Hamish gently opened one and felt inside. ‘Yuk!’ he exclaimed. ‘The finger’s in her coat pocket. No ring.’
    ‘Man, don’t poke around any more,’ said Jimmy, ‘or Blair’ll have your guts for garters.’
    Hamish searched in her other pocket. ‘There’s a piece of folded paper here.’
    ‘Should you be opening that?’ protested Dr Brodie.
    ‘I’m wearing gloves.’ Hamish unfolded the sheet of A4 paper. It had been protected from the rain by the heavy waxed coat.
    ‘I cannot live any more,’ he read. ‘I am going to lie out on the mountain until I die. Jock has killed me. Effie.’
    ‘Well, that solves that,’ called Jimmy. ‘She went daft and stayed out here until she died of exposure.’
    Hamish replaced the letter. ‘The letter’s typewritten,’ he said. ‘She may not have written it.’
    ‘Come on, laddie. Don’t go looking for murder when you’ve got a nice clean case of suicide. Oh, look what’s dropping down from the heavens.’
    A helicopter hovered overhead, and down the ladder, cursing and sweating, came Detective Chief Inspector Blair.
    He was followed, one by one, by the members of the forensic team. He ignored Hamish and said to Jimmy, ‘What have we got here?’
    ‘Local artist, sir. Looks like suicide. There’s a note in her pocket and in another pocket a finger – her ring finger. Looks like she hacked it off.’
    ‘You shouldnae ha’ touched the body.’
    ‘I did that,’ said Hamish.
    ‘I’ll see to you later,’ snarled Blair. ‘Take yourself off and take that friend of yours with you. You can put in a report.’
    Priscilla and Hamish moved off down the hill just as the forensic team were