Death of a Valentine Read Free Page B

kitchen was a bad idea. Look what had happened
when he had been briefly engaged to Priscilla Halburton-Smythe. Without consulting him, she’d had his beloved stove removed and a nasty electric cooker put in instead. No, you just
couldn’t let a woman in the kitchen.
    Josie had three weeks’ holiday owing. She decided to spend it with her mother in Perth. Her mother always knew what to do.
    Josie was an only child, and Mrs Flora McSween had brought her daughter up on a diet of romantic fiction. Just before she arrived, Flora had been absorbed in the latest issue
of The People’s Friend. The People’s Friend magazine had grown and prospered by sticking to the same formula of publishing romantic stories. While other women’s magazines
had stopped publishing fiction and preferred hard-hitting articles such as ‘I Had My Father’s Baby’ and other exposés, People’s Friend went its own sweet way,
adding more and more stories as its circulation rose. It also contained articles on Scotland, recipes, poetry, knitting patterns, notes from a minister, and advice from an agony aunt.
    The arrival of her copy was the highlight of Flora’s week. When her daughter burst in the door, saying, ‘It’s no good, Ma. He’s barely aware of my existence,’ Flora
knew exactly who she was talking about, her daughter having shared her romantic dreams about Hamish over the phone.
    ‘Now, pet,’ said Flora, ‘sit down and take your coat off and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea. Faint heart never won a gentleman. Maybe you’ve been trying too
hard.’
    ‘He calls me McSween, he sends me off hundreds of miles to check on boring old people and make sure they’re all right. I’m so tired of smiling and drinking tea and eating
scones, I could scream.’
    ‘You know what would bring you together? A nice juicy crime.’
    ‘So what if there isn’t one in that backwater? What do I do? Murder someone?’
     
Chapter Two
    The woman is so hard
    Upon the woman.
    – Alfred, Lord Tennyson
    Hamish barely thought about Josie. He was cynically sure that she would not last very long.
    Now that she was away on holiday, he could put her right out of his mind. He was not very surprised, however, that on the day Josie was supposed to be back at work, her mother phoned to say her
daughter had come down with a severe summer cold. She said a doctor’s certificate had been sent to Strathbane.
    Hamish said that Josie was to take as long as she liked and sent his regards.
    ‘What exactly did he say?’ demanded Josie when her mother put down the phone.
    ‘He sent you his very warmest wishes,’ said Flora, exaggerating wildly.
    Josie glowed. ‘I told you, Ma, absence does make the heart grow fonder.’
    One of the real reasons Josie was delaying her return by claiming to have a cold was that, although she would not admit it to herself, she preferred dreams to reality. Just so long as she was
away from Hamish, she could dream about him gathering her in his arms and whispering sweet nothings. He said all the things she wanted him to say.
    But that message about ‘warmest wishes’ buoyed her up so much that she decided to return in two days’ time. ‘You don’t think Strathbane will phone the doctor to
check up?’ she asked anxiously. Flora had stolen one of the certificates from the doctor’s pad when he was not looking.
    ‘Och, no. You’ll be just fine.’
    So Josie eventually set out with a head full of dreams – dreams which crashed down to her feet when Hamish opened the kitchen door and said, ‘Hello, McSween. Are you fit for
work?’
    Work turned out to be a case of shoplifting over in Cnothan. Rain was drumming down and the midges, those Scottish mosquitoes, were out in clouds, undeterred by the downpour.
    The job was very easy. The shopkeeper had a video security camera and had identified the thief. ‘I’ll go right now and arrest him,’ said Josie eagerly.
    ‘Now, I wouldn’t be doing that, lassie,’ said the