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

‘bless these poor wee birdies and take them to Thy bosom where they may sit with the Lamb.’
    Bollocks! thought Hamish sourly as Cunningham droned on and on. At last he got to ‘Amen.’
    Two schoolgirls approached the pyre, which was in fact a charcoal barbecue, carrying a white cardboard box with a gold cross painted on top of it. The Braikie Ladies’ Choir burst into a rendering of ‘Amazing Grace’, their voices nearly drowned out by a piper.
    The box was placed on the charcoal over a metal tray, where it burst into flames. Cunningham began to dance around the ‘pyre’ chanting in tongues. He was wearing open-toed leather sandals.
    The choir at last fell silent and the pipes died away with a final wail. Cunningham danced on.
    And then at the back of the crowd, someone burst out laughing. Soon, it seemed as if the whole crowd had fallen helpless with laughter. Cunningham stopped cavorting and glared. The laughter grew louder. He gathered his robes around him and stalked off.
    Mary marched forward and nodded to the two wardens who, with gloved hands, retrieved the tray of ashes.
    The crowd, now in party mood, followed Mary and the wardens into the glen and on to the repaired bridge. She solemnly scattered the ashes over the bridge into the water. She raised her voice. ‘The ladies of Braikie have supplied refreshments in the car park.’
    Everyone scrambled back to the car park, where tables of food had been laid out. There was even a refreshment tent.
    Hamish found himself accosted by Elspeth. ‘Going to make a fool of it?’ he asked.
    ‘Not me,’ said Elspeth. ‘Not with a country full of bird and animal lovers. But, Hamish, couldn’t you have found a way to persuade them to do something a bit more dignified?’
    ‘It’s all the work of Mary Leinster,’ said Hamish. ‘She’s passionate about bringing trade into Braikie, and the glen seems a good way of doing it. You look different.’
    Elspeth’s normally no-colour frizzy hair had been straightened and highlighted. Her face was carefully made up for the cameras. Only those silvery Gypsy eyes of hers seemed familiar.
    ‘You know how it is, Hamish. Can you think of a plain-looking woman presenter? The men can be fat and old, but not the women. I’ve already picked up rumours that the glen is haunted by fairies. Looks more like it’s being haunted by saboteurs. Who doesn’t want an interest in the place?’
    ‘Can’t find anyone except perhaps Mrs Colchester, who lives at the old hunting box. Mind you, she’s got two hellish grandchildren, but I can’t see either of them having the power to wield a chain saw.’
    ‘I’ll go and pay her a visit,’ said Elspeth. ‘Why don’t we have dinner tonight and talk it over?’
    ‘I’ve already agreed to have dinner with Mary Leinster,’ said Hamish, ‘but come along as well.’
    ‘Quite beautiful, isn’t she? Married?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Hamish stiffly. ‘So you wouldn’t be butting in on a date.’
    ‘Okay. What time?’
    ‘Eight o’clock. The Italian place.’
    ‘I’ll see you there.’
     
    Hamish sent Dick off to pick up gossip and then walked down into the glen and leaned on the bridge. Everyone was in the car park, eating and drinking. It really was a beautiful spot, he thought. The peaty water of the pool glowed with a golden light. A fuchsia bush leaned over the water, its blood-red blossoms looking down at their reflection.
    He felt he should not have asked Elspeth to join them for dinner. Mary had said she would tell him about her divorce. Perhaps her husband had turned against her andwanted to sabotage her pet project. He decided to put Elspeth off and arrange to see her on the following day.
    But when he went back to the car park, it was to be told by Dick that the television crew had moved on to interview Mrs Colchester.
    He and Dick drove up to the hunting box. Once more the front door stood open.
    ‘They should be a wee bit more careful,’ said Dick. ‘Anyone could walk