Page 34 of A Very Bookish Murder
The policeman at the door, when asked, said he could murder a cup of strong tea, then clapped his hand over his mouth and added, ‘Perhaps that wasn’t the most diplomatic way of asking?’
When Morag arrived to do the rooms she was bewildered to see police at the door and in the garden. ‘What the hell’s goin’ onnow?’ she asked crossly.
Ally told her.
‘Which woman was that? The diabetic one, or the wee one, or the loud one, or the madam with the husband?’
‘The diabetic one. How did you know she was diabetic, Morag?’
‘Because I saw her insulin in the fridge and the yellow sharps box in the bedroom where she puts her syringes after she’ll have injected herself. I saw all that when I was cleaning. Murdo’s brother’s a diabetic, so I know the signs.’
‘The police think she may have received an overdose of insulin,’ Ally said, ‘while she was asleep under the rowan tree.’
‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Morag. ‘At this rate, ye’ll have naebody left!’ She frowned. ‘How am I supposed to do the rooms with them all hangin’ about?’
‘I don’t know, Morag. Perhaps ask them – politely – if they’d be kind enough to wait in the sitting room while you do the cleaning?’
‘What a bugger!’ said Morag.
Her four remaining guests showed no inclination to go out. Ally had hoped they would as she fancied having a look in their bedrooms for any likely clues. Then she wondered if she was getting carried away with Rigby’s praise for her detective abilities and she should leave it to the experts.
Ross and Ebony had gone home to welcome some guests who were due to arrive in his holiday cottages, Morag had done the bedrooms with a lot of muttering about guests being under her feet, and Ally had vacuumed downstairs and cleared the kitchen. She fancied calling in on her friend, Linda, to see how she was getting on with Callum and to pick up any news. She also needed some salt so decided to combine a visit to Linda with a visit to the village shop.
Ally had dreaded visiting the shop when she first arrived in Locharran, mainly due to Queenie’s insatiable appetite for gossip, and Ally herself was at that time providing a fair bit of the gossip. Over the past year though, Queenie had almost begun to treat her as a local, which was praise indeed.
‘Och!’ said Queenie sadly. ‘Ye’re havin’ a right old time of it up at the malthouse, Mrs McKinley.’
Ally nodded. ‘I’m afraid you’re right. Incidentally, why don’t you call me Ally now that we know each other quite well?’
‘That’s an odd kinda name for a woman,’ Queenie remarked, brushing some crumbs off the countertop.
‘Well, it’s short for Alison, but I’ve always been called Ally.’
Queenie nodded. ‘What are ye wantin’ then?’
‘Just some salt, Queenie. Sea salt, please.’
‘Over on the stand by the window,’ said Queenie. She narrowed her eyes. ‘So, who wiz murderedthistime?’
Ally located the salt and placed it on the counter. ‘The lady died of a diabetic coma, I believe, and we don’t know anything more at this stage.’
‘Our brother wiz diabetic,’ Queenie said. Then she shouted, ‘Our Charlie wiz diabetic, wizn’t he, Bessie?’
There was no sign of Bessie and no reply. ‘Well, he wiz. But he wiz fine until the bus hit him.’
‘Thebushit him?’ Ally repeated.
‘Aye, the bus from Clachar. That wiz in the days when they ran a decent local bus service. That bus called at all the wee villages…’
‘Your brother was hit by abus?’ Ally asked again.
‘Ahtoldye! The bus from Clachar! The driver, Ecky, wiz awful upset.’
‘Well, he would be,’ Ally said, ‘but what about your brother?’
‘Och, he wasflattened. Flat as a flounder. Ye can see his grave if ye look in the churchyard, right near the gate.’
‘So it killed him?’ Ally asked, horrified.
