“Well, my mum will scare him off.” You didn’t want to be on the wrong side of Eleanor MacBain’s temper. She could be a rather terrifying woman, especially when combined with her thirty-odd years of experience knocking heads together on the force.
I was glad when Lena laughed and some of the anxiety leaked from her face. I didn’t know what to say to her as I drove towards the cafe where I met my mother for lunch every week. I didn’t know what we had in common, nor did I know much about her aside from her love of music.
“So you have band practise this afternoon?” I finally asked after several minutes of silence.
“Yes, we meet three times a week.” She smiled as she said it, expression immediately softening at the mention of her music.
“You’re in a band, and you teach music classes to kids. Do you do anything else?”
“I have a part-time job at Tesco, too,” she said, though she sounded a smidge embarrassed. “Just to make sure I can pay my bills.”
“Is there much money in music?” I asked.
“Not at my level, no, but I don’t really do it for the money.”
“Of course not,” I agreed quickly, heat rising in my cheeks. I checked my mirrors before I changed lanes and thought I caught a glimpse of Lena’s ex’s long, black car, but it turned left and disappeared before I could be sure. “How did you fall in with this guy?” From the little I’d seen of her ex, he seemed rather dark and mean for how brightly Lena dressed and the bubbly way she smiled.
“He was a friend of a friend. We all went out for a pint one night, and then it just sort of happened. Before I knew it, he and I were involved.” Lena shrugged and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It was nice at first. He’s very intense, and I guess I liked having that much attention focused on me.”
“What happened?” I asked as I eased to a stop before a red light. A black car cruised through the intersection, but it was going the wrong way to be following us, so I figured it couldn’t be her ex.
“Intensity turned to jealousy turned to control. You know how it goes.” Lena looked out the window as she spoke. “So, I got out. He didn’t take it well if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Sorry,” I said, though it felt totally inadequate.
“Hopefully, he’ll get the message soon enough.”
We arrived at the Blackwing Cafe, and I managed to snag the last spot in the tiny parking lot, wedging Fletcher’s Renault in between two cars that seemed to think the white lines were mere suggestions.
“My mum is also very intense,” I warned Lena as we got out and headed for the door. “So be warned.”
Lena laughed, and I was glad to see some more of the tension lift from her face. I didn’t see that long black car anywhere, so I figured we were in the clear, and I smiled as I held the door open for Lena, ignoring the wiggle of guilt I felt because I was going out for lunch while a kid was still missing. But I was hoping my mother might have some insights for us.
Eleanor MacBain was already there as she believed on time was late and early was on time, and speaking with Ainslee had taken slightly longer than I’d planned. Eleanor sat at our usual table, tucked into the corner by the bay windows at the back of the cafe, an untouched glass of white wine in front of her. She was staring out the window as we approached, but heard our footsteps and turned her head slowly to watch us cross the last few steps.
“Callum,” she said. “You brought a friend.” She stood so I could give her a quick hug and then held her hand out to Lena.
“Mum, this is Lena. She’s having a spot of trouble with her ex, so I thought it would be best if I didn’t send her off alone. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course, it is.” Eleanor patted Lena’s hand as they shook, and then she motioned for the two of us to take a seat. “Callum, you look like hell,” she continued as she looked me over.
“Thank you, Mother,” I sighed. I was getting a bit tired of people pointing that out to me.
Eleanor, on the other hand, looked as impeccable as always. She wore her greying hair short and swept back from her face so that her sharp blue eyes could bore into their target with nothing to distract from them. I got my height from her, as well as my inability to let things go. Even though she was just out to lunch with her son, she wore a suit coat and trousers, black tie knotted pristinely around her neck. She firmly believed in dressing to the nines, no matter the occasion.
The waiter came by, and Lena and I ordered drinks, both sparkling waters since she had rehearsal later, and I was technically on duty. “Tell me about your case,” Eleanor said. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her I was on a case yet, but she still had friends and contacts at the station that kept her informed.
I filled her in on everything we knew. She listened intently, sipping at her white wine and nodded as she absorbed the information. Lena picked a piece of bread apart but didn’t eat it, just left the chunks scattered across the small plate in front of her.
“Did you come across any big money criminals in your time on the force?” I asked as I finished.
“Ones interested in castles in the middle of nowhere? No.” Eleanor shook her head. “I did have a run-in with Seamus O’Connell while I was an inspector. He was trying to bribe a local councilman, though his lawyers got him off before we could figure out why, and the councilman got very tight-lipped and resigned not long after.”
“What about a charity foundation called Allraise Ventures?”
“They promote literacy, right?” Eleanor asked, and I nodded. “I think we went after them for embezzlement, maybe some sexual harassment, but we couldn’t get anything to stick. Powerful lawyers.”
“You told Ainslee that it was an anonymous tip,” Lena interrupted, her brow furrowed. She’d perked up as I said Alec MacGowan was Finn’s father.
“He asked us not to tell her,” I explained. “He doesn’t want her knowing about his double life. I’d appreciate it if you kept his secret, too.”
“Sure,” she agreed, though something twisted in her face for just a moment, but it vanished so fast I thought I’d imagined it.
The waiter came back with our drinks and asked us if we were ready to eat. The Blackwing Cafe was well known for its sandwiches, and I ordered one with as many ingredients on it as conceivably possible. I was suddenly ravenous. It had been a whirlwind couple of days, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
“Speaking of fathers,” Eleanor said once the waiter left, and I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. I did not want to have this conversation with Lena sitting at the table. She didn’t need to be introduced to the complicated drama that was my deadbeat father before we’d even started to get to know each other. “Sam said she found something of your dad’s? She sounded very excited over the phone.”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t lie to my mother or even hint at her that we should talk about this later. Thirty-odd years on the force had made her far too astute and direct. “She was looking through his briefcase, and she found a photo he took of the,” I hesitated and shuddered slightly, “Loch Ness Monster.”
Lena choked on her water. “I’m sorry, what?”
Eleanor handed her a napkin to mop up the spill. “Callum’s father was obsessed with the myth of the Loch Ness Monster. He was always hatching plans to prove it really existed. Callum’s sister, Sam, believes this has something to do with why he left. This is, obviously, utter nonsense.” She shook her head and smiled indulgently. “Alasdair worked as a data analyst for Far Reach Industries, the security company that does work all across the European Union. No doubt, he stumbled on something he shouldn’t have and had to go into hiding for his and our safety.”
Eleanor said it all so matter-of-factly, as if she were simply reciting last week’s weather, but I desperately wished for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Maybe I should have ordered the pint after all.
“I’m sorry?” Lena repeated, blinking in confusion. That was the only appropriate response to the amount
of information my mother had just dumped on her.
“Don’t listen to her,” I said, glaring at Eleanor. “My father leaving us had nothing to do with a grand conspiracy of any kind. He disappeared in the middle of the night because he was a terrible person. End of story.”
“You just told me about a father who left his family to protect them from the unsavoury elements in his life,” Eleanor pointed out, completely unaffected by my withering stare. She blinked at me over her wine glass as if daring me to disagree.
“And it didn’t work,” I snapped back. “The two are not the same, Mum. I get Sam needing a story to believe in, but you should know better.”
Eleanor’s facade cracked, and for a moment, I saw behind the polished exterior she showed the world to the hurt and the grief she’d held onto all these years, and I instantly felt terrible. We were all dealing with the loss in different ways, and I had no right to tell her or my sister how to do it.
“Mum, I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze, a small smile on her face as she put a few pieces of her mask back in place.
“I gave the photo to the lab,” I offered. “Who knows? Maybe they’ll find something.”
Eleanor had spent years using her position as Chief Inspector to try to track down my father, but she had come up empty at every turn. I supposed that was why she still held onto her conspiracy theory. Surely, a man simply running out on his family wouldn’t be able to disappear so completely.
“Perhaps,” Eleanor agreed.
Our food arrived, and we began to eat quietly. The Blackwing Cafe made some of the best chips in Inverness, crisp and chunky and coated in salt. I sprinkled vinegar over mine, and my stomach grumbled happily as I finally began to fill it.
Eleanor began to ask Lena about her work, segueing gracefully away from our last conversation, and Lena answered eagerly, her voice lightening as she explained how her band started. I listened quietly, glad to learn more about her finally, and as I did, my eyes roamed about the cafe. I’d spent so much time looking over my shoulder these past few days, that it became somewhat natural, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it until I spotted a man in a long coat and tweed hat sitting at a table on the patio. The day had grown surprisingly sunny, so he now wore mirrored sunglasses, preventing me from being able to tell if he was looking at his menu or at us.
“Three o’clock,” I murmured, and my mother instantly snapped to attention, dropping out of the conversation like a rock off a roof. It took Lena a little longer, and she looked at me in confusion until I tipped my head towards the windows at the front of the cafe.
Lena paled when she spotted her ex seated there so casually, and she pushed away her half-eaten sandwich. “I’m so sorry I brought you into this.”
“Nonsense,” Eleanor said as she set down her fork, perfectly in line with her untouched knife. “Allow me.”
She stood up from the table, and Lena and I watched as she strode purposefully across the cafe, throwing open the door to the patio. She marched right up to Lena’s ex and slammed her hand down on the table. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but even from the other side of the room, I could see his face growing paler and paler behind his glasses, and he leaned as far away from her as his chair would allow. When she finished, she patted his face once, and he practically bolted from the table, pausing just long enough to leave twenty quid behind. Eleanor brushed her hands off, took one of his uneaten chips, and then calmly walked back inside.
Lena and I stared at her stunned as she returned to the table, sat down, and picked up her fork as if nothing had happened. “What did you say?” Lena asked. She glanced back and forth between my mother and the now empty table, totally awed.
“Oh, nothing too serious. Just told him what happens to men who don’t leave women alone. He shouldn’t bother you again, but if he does, you just let me know.” Eleanor smiled and crunched through a cucumber, but didn’t elaborate further.
“Thank you, really.”
“My pleasure.”
My mother insisted on paying for lunch despite Lena’s several attempts to pull out her wallet, and the three of us left the cafe together. “Mum, would you mind giving Lena a ride back to her car? I need to meet up with Fletcher and see if she’s found anything.”
“Of course. It was good to see you, dear.” She gave me a hug on and a pat on the cheek and then looked at Lena. “Ready to go?”
“Will you give us a minute?” Lena asked, glancing at me.
“My car’s right over there.” Eleanor pointed at a red hatchback parked at the edge of the lot, and then she walked away, leaving the two of us on the pavement just outside the cafe patio.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Lena said, turning towards me. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen.” I wondered if Finn would have it any easier, having never really known his father in the first place.
“And you really have no idea why he left?”
“No. One morning he was just… gone.” My gut twisted just as it did every time someone brought up my father’s disappearance. I looked away, casting my gaze across the parking lot as if I might find him standing there.
Lena’s hand lifted, reaching for mine, but it fell back to her side before reaching my fingers. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”
I shrugged. It left a hole, one I tried not to climb down if I didn’t have to.
“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” Lena continued. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“Happy to help.”
Lena bit her lip and then quickly stepped forward, hopped up on her toes, and kissed me on the cheek. Her face immediately flared red, and she hurried off without saying anything else, following my mother to the car.
I stood frozen on the pavement. She’d accidentally kissed my scrape, so the area stung, but there was something sweet about it as her floral perfume lingered in the air. She glanced back when she reached Eleanor’s red car, several emotions warring across her face.
Finally, she shook her head and opened the door, disappearing as my mother peeled away from the restaurant.
Seventeen
There was someone waiting to speak with me as soon as I returned to the station. Fletcher was seated at my desk but leapt up and practically ran over as soon as she saw me come through the door. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, eyes gleaming.
“What?”
“Come on.” She seized my hand and led me back to Dunnel’s office. Through the window, I could see him speaking to a blonde, curly-haired man seated with his back to us.
“Did you find anything out about the castle?” I asked as she dragged me along.
“We’ll get to that.”
Fletcher opened the door without knocking, and the blonde man stood as we entered. He was surprisingly young, almost baby-faced, and his black tie was loose around his neck. He smiled and held out his hand to me.
“DI Felix Bateman,” he said. He had a Yorkshire accent and an easy openness to his face.
“Callum MacBain,” I replied and shook his hand, glancing at Fletcher for answers.
“DI Bateman is from the Sheffield police,” Dunnel explained. “He’s got some insight into your case.”
“Really?” I looked back at Bateman with renewed interest.
“Yes. I drove up as soon as I heard. I think I’ve encountered these people before.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I don’t know what they call themselves, but I believe there's some kind of shadow organization scouring the world for undiscovered artefacts with cultural, historical, or religious significance that they then steal and sell to the highest bidder.” Bateman spoke with his hands, gesturing to emphasize his point. “They operate a lot like what you’ve seen in your case--snatching up deeds to plots of land or buildings where they believe these treasures are hidden, though I’ve never heard of them being this violent before.
I was second on a case where they got away with a never-before-seen illuminated copy of The Confessions of St. Augustine. It showed up in some rich bloke’s private collection, but we couldn’t prove that it was stolen.”
“So what did they want in the Castle of Old Wick?” I asked, looking to Fletcher.
“I found my way onto this forum that mentioned rumours of a hidden Viking cache.” Fletcher grinned excitedly, but I just stared flatly at her, Dunnel, and Bateman.
It was quite a tale, right up there with Sam’s Loch Ness Monster conspiracy theory. It was very Tomb Raider-esque. A secret, powerful organization stealing ancient artefacts. It was absolutely mad, and I couldn’t believe that Dunnel and Fletcher were taking it so seriously.
“He’s joking, right?” I said, pointing at Bateman. “You’re all having a gaffe with me.”
“It makes sense,” Fletcher said.
“‘Makes sense?’” I repeated. “How does this make sense?”
“Why would you go through that much bother to get a deed to a tiny castle in the middle of nowhere?” Fletcher pointed out. “It doesn’t bring in any tourism money. It doesn’t really have any historical value other than being one of the oldest castles in Scotland, so why? Why? Unless there was, somehow, something of value hidden there.”
“Treasure troves don’t really exist,” I insisted and folded my arms.
“Callum, a girl in Sweden pulled a fifteen-hundred-year-old sword out of a lake not too long ago,” Fletcher began, throwing her arms in the air. “The Greeks uncover another ancient ruin virtually every day, say ‘oh well,’ and keep on building around it. There’s stuff lying around everywhere, just waiting for us to discover. Why is this so hard to believe?”
Because if it were, then maybe I’d been too quick to dismiss certain other crazy theories.
“How does this help us find Finn?” I said, instead. “Do we have any idea where they operate? If they have a home base? Who’s in charge?”
Fletcher’s face fell. “Well, no.” She pursed her lips and scratched at her chin, thinking about. “But we do have Seamus O’Connell in custody, and his lawyer is here now, so maybe we can get something out of him.”
Buried Secrets (DCI MacBain Scottish Crimes Book 1) Page 14