Death of a Nurse (Hamish Macbeth, #31)

At last the pharmacist came back. “The prescriptions are all from Dr. Strachan.”


“Where is his surgery?”

“Blythe Road, just round the corner.”

“And what were the prescriptions for?”

“Methadone and diazepam. It seemed odd to me that she would want such a quantity, but Dr. Strachan said it was all in order.”



Hamish walked out into the sunshine and made his way round the corner to the surgery. The waiting room was full, but he flashed his warrant card and demanded to see the doctor immediately.

He was ushered in after a patient had left. Dr. Strachan rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Welcome. How can I help the police?”

He was a small brown-haired man, somewhere, Hamish judged, in his forties. He had a square, pugnacious face.

“The nurse Gloria Dainty received a great number of prescriptions from you for methadone and diazepam,” said Hamish.

The doctor studied his hands, which were large with thick fingers. “As part of her job. She needed the stuff for patients.”

Hamish loomed over him. “Rubbish,” he said. “Before she went to Mr. Harrison, she had one patient and that was Miss Whittaker. Tell me what is going on or I will report you to the medical council.”

He buried his head in his hands and then looked up. “We had a brief fling,” he said. “She wasn’t a patient of mine and she came on to me strong. Then it was over, but the pharmacist phoned me to query prescriptions brought in by her. I called her and demanded an explanation. She said she had stolen a prescription pad from me but if I said anything, she would go to my wife and she had the photos to prove it. She had taken some photos on her phone when we were…er…fooling around. I couldn’t bear the scandal. Officer, if this gets out, I’ll lose my job, my wife, and my children.”

“I think I can keep quiet about it,” said Hamish. “But if it becomes relevant to an investigation I’m on, then I’ll need to say something.”

“Oh, God bless you,” said the doctor, and he began to cry.



So, thought Hamish, as he drove back north. That doesn’t really get me any further. I knew already that Gloria was supplying Malky with drugs. If I report it, I’ll get a row for not telling police headquarters that I was going to Strathbane. They’ll arrest the doctor and maybe decide it was he who murdered Gloria. That’s just the sort of thing Blair would do.

It all goes back to Harrison and his damn will. That’s the only reason for bumping off Andrew.

As he climbed down from the Land Rover outside the station, Angela came to meet him. “That poodle is so sweet,” she said.

“Not a man’s dog,” said Hamish huffily.

“Neither is Lugs,” pointed out Angela. “I mean, Lugs is not a working dog, like a sheepdog. Have you ever thought that attitude is why you have so much trouble with women?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gloria Dainty was a shallow gold digger. But you never saw that; neither did any of the other men in the village. All you saw was the blonde hair and the sexy outfit. Until you learn to look below the surface, you’ll never get married. There’s some ordinary-looking woman out there with a good heart and you wouldn’t even give her a second look. That’s why you keep missing out.”

Hamish stared at her. Angela, with her gentle face and wispy hair, did not turn heads and yet Hamish had always thought the doctor fortunate in his choice of wife. But there was something in what she said. Something he had missed.

“I wonder,” he said. “I just wonder.”

He turned abruptly on his heel and marched into the police station. The poodle jumped up and down in welcome and Lugs rattled his food bowl. Still turning over what Angela had said, Hamish fried up venison liver for the dogs. He waited until the meat had cooled, chopped it up, and put it down in their dishes.

The kitchen door crashed open. Jimmy walked in, pulled out a kitchen chair, and sat down. “I deserve a dram, Hamish. What a carry-on! Herring goes off, threatening us all with the wrath of God, Blair shouts and bullies, Greta in tears, lawyer called, Blair charged with police harassment, and everyone screaming and cursing and yelling.”

Hamish poured him a dram of whisky. “And what did Helen Mackenzie have to say for herself?”

“What? The boot-faced nurse? Why? She’s the only one in the clear.”

“Harrison has gone round promising everyone money in his will, even the shepherd. What about Helen? How did he get her?”

“You remember, when Gloria was murdered, he said he phoned for a replacement and they sent Helen.”

“I remember. I’d like to know more about Helen. She must have known Gloria. Jimmy, I’ve been warned off. Why not ask the agency if there was any friendship between Gloria and Helen?”

“Not me. After today, I’m not taking the initiative in anything.”



After Jimmy had left, Hamish drove up to the hotel and went down to Charlie’s apartment. He and the colonel were sitting by the fire.

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