Death of a Nurse (Hamish Macbeth, #31)

Harry preened. “Maybe chust a few wee words.”


So everything was set up and Harry stated that it was a black day for the Highlands and it was his job to protect the estate. All the time, Elspeth fretted, anxious to get to the house before the police arrived.

At last they got to the front door.

Inga answered it but said firmly that Mr. Harrison was not seeing anyone. But Helen Mackenzie appeared and asked what was going on.

“I am Elspeth Grant and I wanted to interview Mr. Harrison and yourself, of course. It is Miss Mackenzie, is it not?”

“Well, I’ll see,” said Helen. “Wait in the hall.”

Ten minutes later, Helen reappeared. She had put heavy make-up on her face and her mouth was a scarlet slash. As she had a long thin mouth, it looked like an open wound made by a razor.

“Just follow me,” she said.

It was soon revealed that Helen had spent the time putting on make-up rather than asking Mr. Harrison for his permission.

“What the hell is going on, Mackenzie?” he roared. “I said, no press.”

“But it isn’t the press, it’s the telly,” begged Helen.

Andrew Harrison walked into the room. “Ah, Andrew, see these damn folk off the premises,” said Mr. Harrison.

“It’s just a short interview,” pleaded Elspeth.

Andrew surveyed her. Elspeth had straightened her hair and was cleverly made up. Her large silvery eyes looked up into Andrew’s face. He smiled. “Father, it’ll only take a few moments. I’ll get Greta. We don’t get much excitement up here and my poor wife is bored.”

Sound and camera were already setting up lights and cables. Helen took up a position behind her boss’s wheelchair and tried to look solicitous.

Mr. Harrison sat glaring. Greta appeared, followed by her husband. She was a tall woman with a mannish, craggy face and hunting shoulders, wearing a shooting jacket and knee breeches.

“Gosh, isn’t this exciting?” she cried. “When will it be shown?”

“At six this evening,” said Elspeth. Greta went to stand behind her father-in-law’s chair, elbowing Helen out of the way.

Elspeth decided to go straight into the interview and do her piece to camera later.

“Mr. Harrison,” she began. “It must have been a dreadful shock when you learned that your previous nurse, Gloria Dainty, had been murdered.”

“The little tart had been asking for it,” said Mr. Harrison. “Peddling her arse about the Highlands.”

“Did you know about her behaviour before she disappeared?”

“Got an anonymous letter and checked around. Told her to pack up and leave. Thought she had when her stuff was gone.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police about the anonymous letter?”

“It made me mad and I took it out on Gloria. But then I thought, I wasn’t going to blacken her name.”



Andrew, Greta, and Helen were now lined up behind Mr. Harrison’s wheelchair, all smiling madly at the camera.

“Could you all look a bit serious?” pleaded Elspeth. “Now, Mr. Harrison, can you think of anyone who might have done this dreadful murder?”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Could be anyone. Can’t be me. I can’t move from this chair.”

The door opened and Juris came in. “The police are here with a warrant.”

“I’ll see them,” said Andrew.

“We’d better pack up,” said Elspeth. “Thank you all for your time.”

Andrew came back. “They’ve got a warrant, Father, to take your DNA and fingerprints and also to search the house again.”

“This is an outrage! Here I am, a cripple, and being tormented by the fascist police. I’ll write to my member of Parliament.”

Elspeth had covertly signalled to her crew to keep on filming. “Andrew, what’s the use of having a son who’s a lawyer when he can do bugger-all to protect me? You always were useless,” roared his father.

“I’ll get your medicine,” said Helen.

Mr. Harrison told her to take the medicine and shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

“They’re still filming,” warned Andrew. Mr. Harrison picked up a medicine bottle from the table next to him and hurled it at Elspeth, who ducked.

Her crew began to hurriedly pack things away, afraid he might start throwing more things and damage the equipment. “And phone my lawyer,” said Mr. Harrison. “I’m changing my will.”

“But I’m your lawyer,” said Andrew.

“Didn’t know I had another one, hey? It’s old Tinety down in Strathbane.”



When Elspeth and her crew left the building, it was to find a forensic team suiting up and Charlie and Fiona standing waiting.

“Where’s Hamish?” asked Elspeth.

“He turned up with the cat and dog and the inspector here sent him back saying she didn’t want animals contaminating the scene.”

“How did you get on?” asked Charlie.

“Don’t speak to the press,” snapped Fiona.

Elspeth shrugged. With any luck, she might meet Hamish on the road back.



M. C. Beaton's books