Death of Yesterday by M. C. Beaton Page A

television studios. She could not believe this
     was happening to her. She had been riding so high, signing autographs every time she left the building. She also could not
     believe it had been because of her performance. She knew that Elspeth had been engaged to Barry and was sure she had dripped
     poison in his ear. A security man came up to her and said sympathetically, “Need any help with your stuff?”
    “That’s kind of you,” said Hannah. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m sure Elspeth is behind it.”
    “She wouldn’t do a thing like that. Maybe she’ll get married and they’ll have you back. There’s a rumour going around that
     she’s sweet on that copper up in Lochdubh.”
    “I’ll be back in a moment,” said Hannah. “I’d better say goodbye to Elspeth.”
      
    Elspeth looked up, startled, as Hannah approached her with an outstretched hand. “I just came to say goodbye,” said Hannah.
     “Did you enjoy your time up north?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “When you’re speaking to Hamish, do tell him I enjoyed our night together. A very passionate man.”
    “I will,” said Elspeth. “Goodbye. I’ve a lot to do.”
      
    Hamish fretted as the days passed into weeks and the investigation into the murders was being wound down.
    The lazy sunny days seemed to be over. Squalls of wind blew in from the Atlantic bringing rain to pockmark the loch. Low clouds
     raced across the sky.
    Someone in Cnothan must know something, Hamish fretted. Although he liked Dick, he sometimes chafed at his own bachelor existence.
     He should have proposed to Elspeth Grant a long time ago.
    One morning, he walked with the dog and cat to the cliffs at the end of the sea loch and sat on the edge of the cliff, watching
     the green-grey waves rolling in to crash against the rocks below. Restless seagulls screamed and swooped overhead, and little
     puffins popped in and out of their burrows.
    He found it strange that there had not been one bit of forensic evidence. The bottle and glasses up by the falls had been
     wiped clean. The whisky had been Bells, on sale everywhere in the Highlands.
    Then he thought that maybe now the pressure was off the residents of Cnothan, someone might decide to talk.
    As he rose to his feet, he decided to begin at the beginning, as if the case were new. He would go over the ground again.
    When he returned to the police station and told Dick his plans, Dick groaned and said, “I hate Cnothan.”
    “I can’t just leave it!” said Hamish.
    There was a knock at the kitchen door. Hamish opened it and felt his very soul cringe with embarrassment. Hannah Fleming stood
     there, beautiful as ever.
    She smiled at him. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
    “I was chust on my way out,” said Hamish. “Oh, I can give you a few minutes.”
    Hannah seated herself at the kitchen table. She looked around the well-appointed kitchen with approval. She had come back
     to the idea of being Hamish’s wife. Her sacking by Barry Dalrymple had seriously dented her amour propre. She had found a
     job as a public relations officer for a cosmetics firm in Glasgow but was not due to start work for a few weeks. But the idea
     of being married and not having to work again had begun to appeal to her.
    “What can I do for you?” asked Hamish stiffly.
    “Oh, Hamish! After all we’ve been to each other.”
    “Hannah, you gave me a note telling me to forget about it.”
    “I was being noble. I was frightened you would lose your job.”
    “And I could still lose my job,” said Hamish. “Let’s chust forget it.”
    “We could make it all respectable,” said Hannah. “What if we got married?”
    Now, the average highlander is capable of telling a great whopping lie, especially when cornered. “I cannae do that,” said
     Hamish. “I’m thinking of marrying Elspeth Grant.”
    Her face hardened. “You mean she doesn’t mind you playing around?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I told her