Death of a Witch by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online Page A

the bell again. No reply.
    He banged on the door, which was swung open by a furious Colin.
    “I’ve got naethin’ mair to say to ye!” he howled.
    “Look, we can either do things here or at the station,” said Hamish. “Take your pick.”
    To his surprise, the builder said, “The station’ll be fine.”
    As they walked towards the police station, Colin said, “I know what you want to ask but you cannae be asking things like that in front of the wife.”
    In the station Hamish served him tea in the kitchen and got down to business. “So what really happened?”
    “It was around the men in the village that the witch could gie ye something tae make ye mair sexy to the wife, but the itch got so bad I went tae Dr. Brodie and he told me it was dangerous stuff. I went up there to have it out with her but there was no reply.”
    “When exactly did you go up to her cottage?”
    “The day before she was found. I swear tae God that’s the truth. You won’t be saying anything to the missus?”
    “No, on my word. Have you heard any talk about a brothel?”
    “No, but if you hear of one, let me know!”
    When Hamish entered the café in Strathbane, it was to find Mary Blair already waiting for him.
    “So what’s the news?” asked Hamish.
    “You know that woman that was murdered,” said Mary. “I think I met her.”
    “Where? When?”
    “I can’t remember exactly but it was about two years ago. There was this woman—I’m not giving you her name—and she was on the game. Would you believe it? She was a married woman and did it for a lark. Said her man was tight with money. She wasn’t on the streets like me. She had a wee flat that her husband didn’t know about. All high class. Advertised herself on the Internet. She liked to talk to us prossies—seemed to get a kick out of it. Well, one day she stops by me. She’d been crying and looked like a real mess. She said she was pregnant and since she hadn’t had sex with her husband in ages, he’d kill her if he found out.
    “So I said why didn’t she just go to the hospital and get an operation. Turns out her husband is a doctor and a member of the Rotary Club and the Freemasons and she said they all gossip and if she went for an abortion, it would get back to her husband. She said she’d heard of this woman who did abortions and she was going to her and she was right scared.
    “I was sorry for her and said I would go with her. Mind you, I tried to talk her out of it. Back-street abortions were dangerous, I said. Anyway, we went out to a wee house on the Drumlie Road. She wasn’t calling herself Catriona Beldame then. She was plain Mrs. McBride. The place was clean and nice and I hoped it would be all right. She took my lady off to the bedroom. When they came out, this Mrs. McBride said she would get her period like normal and abort and there would be no pain. I don’t know what that woman did to her but she was found on the street, dead, a week later. She’d bled to death.”
    “You should have gone to the police, Mary.”
    “Me, a prostitute, going to the police and saying a respectable doctor’s wife was on the game!”
    “You could have written an anonymous letter.”
    “And have forensics trace it back to me!”
    “I doubt it,” said Hamish cynically.
    “Anyway, I went back to that Mrs. McBride to tell her she was a murderer, but the place was closed up and she’d gone.”
    “Still, you’ve given me a starting point,” said Hamish, “and you’ve also given me a motive for murder. What was the number of the house on Drumlie Road?”
    “I can’t remember, but it was about halfway along and had a yellow privet hedge in front of it.”
    After promising Mary that he would not reveal where he had got his latest information from, Hamish left and phoned Jimmy Anderson.
    When he had finished speaking, Jimmy said, “I’ll meet you in the car park at police headquarters and we’ll go out to the Drumlie Road and see what we can find