Death of Yesterday by M. C. Beaton Page A

he said. “You can have a few words, but that is all.”
    Now, thought Hamish, we’ll get the identity of this murdering bastard at last.
    The doctor followed Hamish and Jimmy into the room. Hamish took one look at Hannah and cursed. He had seen death many times before and recognised it in Hannah’s clay-white face.
    “What’s happened here?” demanded the doctor, striding to the bed. “Her tubes have been pulled out, and what’s that pillow doing lying on the floor?”
    “Don’t touch it!” yelled Hamish as he made to pick it up. “I think someone’s got in here and smothered her.”
    Blair soon came roaring back followed by Superintendent Daviot. Blair raged that she should never have been left alone.
    “We’ll get the CCTV stuff,” said Jimmy, “and find out who went into her room.”
    “Won’t do you much good,” said Hamish miserably. “I took a look at the one in the corridor and it’s been spray-painted black.”
    Blair howled with rage and cursed and stamped and then he clutched his throat and fell unconscious on the floor.
    Medics rushed to bear him away. Daviot shook his silver head. “A guard should have been put on her door. This is terrible publicity. What am I to tell the press?”
    Hamish finally got back to his police station at three in the morning. He could hear snores coming from Dick’s bedroom. He had developed such a rage, such a personal hate for this murderer, that he felt that if Hannah had lived and had told about her night with him, he would gladly have faced the music if it got him the identity of this killer.
    He undressed and went to bed, falling into an exhausted sleep haunted by dreams of the people at the factory.
    * * *
    In the morning, Hamish phoned Jimmy. “There’s a back stair leading from the corridor outside Hannah’s room,” said Jimmy. “No cameras there. We’re getting statements again from everyone at that factory.”
    “I’ll be right over,” said Hamish.
    “I’m in charge of the case now,” said Jimmy. “Blair’s had a wee stroke and is being kept in. You just get on with your usual duties.”
    Hamish sighed after he had rung off. If Blair’s condition turned out to be serious, then Jimmy saw promotion. Any kudos he would want for himself.
    Dick arrived in the kitchen. “Where were you yesterday?” demanded Hamish.
    “I didnae see that there was anything I could do,” said Dick plaintively. “Is she going to be all right?”
    “She’s dead,” said Hamish and told Dick what had happened, ending with, “Blair got a stroke so Jimmy has dreams of glory and I’m being asked to keep clear.”
    “It’s a grand day,” said Dick looking out of the window. “We both need a rest.”
    “On the contrary,” said Hamish. “They’ll all be concentrating on alibis. We should go over to the hospital and ask around.”
    “Don’t you want me to stay behind and look after Sonsie and Lugs?”
    “I’ll take the beasts with me,” said Hamish curtly. “Get your uniform on.”
    * * *
    At the hospital, Hamish and Dick went up to the corridor outside Hannah’s room and walked along until they found the back stairs and then started to walk slowly down.
    “Have forensics been over this?” asked Dick uneasily. “We could be charged with mucking up a crime scene.”
    “They’ve been and gone,” said Hamish. “There’s fingerprint dust all over the banisters.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, there was a fire door. They pushed it open and found themselves at the back of the hospital. Hamish turned and scrutinised the building. “Not a camera in sight,” he muttered. “Our murderer either knew about that or was lucky in his desperation.”
    He scanned the ground. A little way away was a small patch of earth, still damp from the previous day’s rain. There was the mark of a single tyre. “Looks like a bicycle track,” said Hamish. “They should have taken a cast of it.”
    He walked back to the fire door. “Cigarette butts all over the