Death of a Witch Read Free Page B

have a good treatment for sexual dysfunction. Want some?”
    “I do not haff the trouble in that department,” said Hamish, blushing. “What exactly is this treatment?”
    “A secret recipe.”
    Hamish said stiffly, “We do not go in for sex much in Lochdubh,” and immediately felt silly as she turned round and looked at him with amusement.
    She put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Now, try that.”
    Hamish took a cautious sip. It was some sort of fruit tea, he guessed, very pleasant to the taste.
    She sat down at the table close to him and raised her own cup to her lips. Catriona looked at him over the rim and smiled.
    “Tell me about your sex life.”
    “Chust keep your nose out o’ my private life,” said Hamish sharply.
    “But you’ve been asking me so many personal questions. Isn’t it fair I should ask you some?”
    “I didnae ask you about your sex life.”
    Her knee pressed against his under the table.
    “I don’t mind. For example, I’m very good in bed.”
    “Are you running a brothel here?” demanded Hamish.
    She threw back her head and laughed. Then she said, “My dear man, if I wanted to run a brothel, I would hardly settle in a village in the north of Scotland. Let’s not quarrel.” She covered his hand with her own. “I simply supply a few herbal medicines. I was teasing you. The main complaint here is indigestion.”
    He felt a sudden tug of attraction. He drew his hand away gently.
    “I must be off,” he said, standing up and putting on his cap. “I only called to introduce myself.”
    “Call again,” said Catriona.
    She turned in the doorway and kissed him on the cheek. “See you very soon,” she said.
    Hamish walked off down the brae. He felt strangely elated. All of a sudden, he wanted to turn back and ask her out for dinner.
    He half turned back. She was still standing in the doorway, watching him. Hamish forced himself to keep on going.
    The desire to go back and see her lasted until he ate a substantial lunch and then he scratched his head in bewilderment. What had come over him? Had there been something in that tea?
    He got a call from Jimmy Anderson reminding him that he was expected in the sheriff’s court in Strathbane at three o’clock that afternoon, along with Willie Lamont and Clarry Graham. Hamish phoned both Willie and Clarry and suggested they should all go together.
    Willie was seated next to Hamish in the front passenger seat and Clarry was in the back. At one point in the drive, Hamish said, “Willie, are you scratching yourself?”
    Willie removed his hand from his crotch. “I think I’ve got a wee bit o’ cystitis.”
    “Then see Dr. Brodie as soon as possible. Man, what if ye were to go like that in court?”
    The proceedings did not take long. In vain did the defence advocate plead that his clients were truly remorseful. The sheriff said the case was too severe to be tried in his court; he was remanding the burglars without bail to appear at the high court in Edinburgh.
    “I’ll drop you off at Dr. Brodie’s,” said Hamish.
    “I’ve got to get to the restaurant,” said Willie. “I’ll maybe drop along later.”
    “Don’t leave it too long. Cystitis can be nasty,” said Hamish.
    Hamish found a message from Dr. Brodie when he got to the police station, asking him to call urgently.
    He said to Sonsie and Lugs, “No, you pair stay here. I think Angela’s had enough of ye.”
    As he walked along the waterfront, he felt the village was strangely quiet. Again he was assailed by a feeling of foreboding.
    Dr. Brodie led Hamish into his cluttered living room. Cold ash spilled out over the grate.
    “What’s the problem?” asked Hamish.
    “Several of my male patients have been coming to me with swollen genitalia and inflammation of the urinary tract.”
    “So?”
    “I treated a case like this when I was much younger and an army doctor. It turned out to be Spanish fly.”
    “I’ve read about that somewhere. Isn’t it an