by V. M. Burns
“Last, but not least, I want to introduce Archibald Lowry’s cousins who travelled all the way from Scotland to visit with him, Mary and Fergus Kilpatrick.”
Monica Jill applauded enthusiastically as the two stood up and waved at the crowd.
When the applause died down, Dixie asked everyone to close their eyes, bow their heads and observe a few moments of silence in honor of Archibald Lowry. After a few moments, Dixie thanked everyone for their hard work. “Now, if everyone would take a glass of the champagne which is sitting in front of their seats, let’s raise a glass to Archibald Lowry.”
Everyone picked up their glass of amber liquid. The glasses were plastic flutes, but all things considered, it was a nice gesture.
“To Archibald Lowry.”
We lifted our glasses. “Archibald Lowry.”
I noticed Lowry’s housekeeper didn’t drink, but merely held her glass.
“Now, please enjoy your lunch.” Dixie sat down at the seat next to me at the head table. She leaned over and whispered, “Normally, we’re lucky if we get soggy sub sandwiches and bags of stale chips, but Archibald Lowry insisted on traditional Scottish fare and had his housekeeper arrange for the meal.”
The meal was three courses which included a small salad with a dollop of salad dressing, and a bread and butter pudding.
The chauffeur took one look at his plate, scrunched his nose, pushed his plate away, then reached over and got the bottle of champagne on the table and topped his glass. He gulped it down, refilled his glass and repeated.
I decided to chalk his bad behavior up to grief and returned my attention to my plate. I turned to Dixie and whispered, “Is this what I think it is?”
She nodded and forced a smile. “Traditional Scottish cuisine.”
“Oh, yum.”
Dixie and I exchanged glances but held our tongues. Surprisingly, Mary Kilpatrick had the same puzzled look that I saw on B.J.’s face.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Catherine Huntington, was seated directly across from me. I looked up and smiled. I felt sure she saw me, but she didn’t return my smile. Instead, I saw a look of fear flash across her face. Her hand shook and she clasped the crucifix and medallion she wore around her neck. It seemed to have a steadying effect on her. The fear I’d seen moments before quickly vanished. She released the cross and medal, reached across and pointed out each item. “haggis, black pudding, turnips and potatoes.”
I nodded. I knew what haggis was and felt confident that B.J. and Monica Jill wouldn’t appreciate the cuisine.
B.J. frowned. “What’s haggis?”
Mary Kilpatrick took a sip of water and smiled like someone from a foreign country who doesn’t understand the language. After a few moments, she looked up and said, “I’m afraid I don’t cook much.”
Mrs. Huntington grunted. “It’s the lamb pluck.” She must have noticed the puzzled look on B.J.’s face because she elaborated. “The innards, heart, kidneys and lungs mixed with onions, spices, oatmeal and cooked in the intestines.”
I wasn’t sure what type of reaction I expected from B.J., but I wasn’t anticipating delight.
She turned to Mary. “Oh, sort of like chitlins?”
Now, it was Mary’s turn to look confused. “Chitlins? I don’t know what that is?”
Monica Jill smiled. “It’s chit-ter-lings,” she enunciated. “Pork intestines.”
Mary Kilpatrick looked as though she wanted to puke but forced a smile instead.
B.J. turned to Monica Jill. “What do you know about chitlins?”
Monica Jill scowled. “I know what they are. I see them in tubs at the grocery store.”
“Ever had any?”
“No,” Monica Jill said. “I haven’t, but I’ve smelled them and that was enough for me.”
B.J. prodded the round mound on her plate with her fork. “Now, what’s black pudding? Is it some kind of dessert?”
Mary shrugged and turned to Mrs. Huntington. “Perhaps, we should consult the expert.”
Catherine Huntington grunted. “It’s a sausage made with pork jowls and blood.”
I watched as B.J. shrugged and then took a small bite. “I’m not a big fan, but I guess it’s an acquired taste.” She took another bite. “Maybe it’ll grow on me.”
I’ve never been so proud of B.J. in my entire life. I pride myself on being open-minded, but I’d tried haggis and black pudding when Dixie and I had traveled through England and Scotland in college and I wasn’t a fan.
I leaned close to Dixie and whispered, “Isn’t real haggis banned in the U.S.?”
She nodded. “The Department of Agriculture doesn’t allow it to be imported because of the lungs.” She inclined her head toward the back of the tent where I saw the caterer. “Archibald was determined to have real haggis, but when I dug my heels in on importing illegal meat products, he compromised.” She puffed her chest out in an imitation of Archibald Lowry. “If I can’t import the haggis, then I’ll import the chef and have it made properly.” She glanced around to make sure no one overheard her.
“That must have cost a small fortune and taken an incredibly long time.”
She shrugged. “I suppose that’s one of the perks of having more money than you know what to do with.” She shook her head. “I assured him we could survive with only the black pudding and skip the haggis, but he was one determined man.”
Paul Carpenter, the chauffeur, must have been listening because he leaned close to us. “Determined? Determined you call it. Archibald Lowry was stubborn, that’s what I call it.” He looked around. “Always, everything has to be done his way.”
Dixie and I glanced around, but none of the other guests were offended by the chauffeur’s statements.
“I suppose that’s how he acquired his wealth…through determination or stubbornness.” I mashed the haggis and black pudding with my fork and moved it around on the plate in an attempt to make it look as though I’d eaten at least some of it.
Paul Carpenter snorted. “Determination? You think determination is what made Archibald Lowry rich?” He chuckled and took another drink.
Eli Goldstein made eye contact with the chauffeur. “It’s rude to speak ill of the dead.”
Carpenter sneered. “Me? You call me rude? I’m an honest man. I speak the same things now that I said when he was alive. I don’t pretend.” He thumped his chest. “I don’t claim to be something I’m not. I don’t argue with someone and once he’s dead, pretend that we didn’t disagree.” He drained his glass then pushed his chair back, stood and walked over to Mrs. Huntington. He reached down and took her glass. “You going to drink this?” He smiled big.
Mrs. Huntington shook her head, closed her eyes and grasped her comfort crucifix.
The chauffeur laughed and then drank Mrs. Huntington’s champagne and replaced the glass on the table. He then walked over to a nearby table where there was another bottle of champagne. Grabbing the bottle, he brought it back to our table, and flopped down in his seat. This time he decided to forego using the glass and simply drank directly from the bottle.
Eli Goldstein leaned forward and attempted to take the bottle away, which was a big mistake.
Paul Carpenter wasn’t ready to relinquish his bottle. He pushed Eli who fell backward to the ground.
Everyone in the tent stopped eating to watch the commotion at the head table.
The butler quickly hurried over to Paul Carpenter and whispered something into his ear. With one hand Ivan Bradington pinched a nerve in the chauffeur’s neck, which caused the man to twitch. He then twisted his arm behind his back and hoisted him to his feet.
Carpenter grimaced while Bradington smiled. “Just a bit too much bubbly. Please excuse us.” He turned and escorted the chauffeur out of the back of the tent.
After a few seconds, the crowd noise returned as the stunned group conferred abo
ut what had just happened.
I stared at Dixie. “What just happened?”
She shrugged.
Catherine Huntington’s face seemed frozen with fear. Her gaze went from Eli Goldstein to Fergus Kilpatrick and then to the empty seat vacated by the chauffeur. She released her hold on the crucifix she wore around her neck long enough to cross herself, but then returned her hold.
Eli Goldstein regained his seat amidst sympathetic inquiries from Stephanie, B.J. and Monica Jill.
The lawyer looked flushed under his tan, but reassured everyone that the only thing injured was his pride.
“Come on.” Dixie excused herself and headed out the back of the tent.
Thankful for any excuse to avoid eating anything further, I followed suit. As I left the tent, I got a glimpse of someone hurrying around the back of the tent. I stopped and tried to remember where I’d seen that face before.
“What’s wrong?” Dixie asked.
I shrugged and shook my head as she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along with her.
“Come on.”
I quickly forgot the blur and hurried after my friend.
Outside, we saw the butler engaged in what appeared to be an animated and heated conversation with the chauffeur. The exchange was brief and after a few moments, the chauffeur slunk away.
Dixie approached the butler and I followed. “Anything we can help with?”
“No.” The butler’s eyes flashed briefly, but the look was instantly replaced with the blank expression he’d worn earlier. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I assure you that Mr. Carpenter will be dealt with.” He bowed and marched away.
Dixie and I stared after the butler for a few moments.
“What do you suppose was behind all of that?”
Dixie shook her head. “I have no idea, but I doubt it had anything to do with haggis.”
Chapter 10
After lunch, Dixie, B.J., Stephanie, and I waited in Dixie’s RV. Monica Jill wanted to see the new calf and volunteered to go and bring Dr. Morgan back.
Aggie was curled up on my shoulder, like a parrot, while Rex snuggled in my lap. I stared down at the cute bundle of fur and realized I was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. If Archibald Lowry’s will left this little dog to someone else, my heart will have a poodle-sized hole. These thoughts prompted me to turn to Stephanie. “Did Mr. Lowry’s attorney mention anything about his will?”
Stephanie looked at me with compassion. “Eli doesn’t think he made arrangements for the dog,” she paused, “which seems really weird.” She looked sad. “Eli thought the cousins, Mary and Fergus Kilpatrick, might want him.”
I hugged Rex close. “Maybe they’d let me buy him?”
Dixie patted my arm. “Honestly, I can’t believe Archibald didn’t make arrangements for his dog.”
B.J. sat on a swivel chair and ate chips and tuna fish sandwiches, which Dixie had thoughtfully brought in case we weren’t fans of the Scottish cuisine. “I read somewhere it’s hard to get dogs into the United Kingdom. Don’t they require pets to be quarantined for six months?”
Dixie shook her head. “That was true years ago, but they’ve relaxed their laws considerably and it’s a lot easier to travel with dogs, cats, even ferrets.”
“Six months? That’s a long time to be away from your pet.” I looked down at Rex and gave Aggie an extra cuddle. I couldn’t imagine leaving my dog for half of the year.
“The United Kingdom had a really harsh ban in place for years to prevent rabies. But for the last two decades, they have made it a lot easier to bring animals into the country.”
“Easier?” Beau snorted. “Isn’t there a three-week wait period?”
Dixie nodded. “Three weeks from the time your dog is vaccinated, plus you have to have blood work done and…” She shook her head. “I used to know all of the rules when I was actively showing my dogs. Crufts is the British equivalent to the Westminster Dog Show. Preparing Leia and Chyna for that was a full-time job.” She sighed. “They have something called the PETS Scheme. There’s a list of approved countries that are allowed to bring pets into and out of the country. In addition to the vaccinations and blood tests, your dog will need to have your vet complete a certificate and then your dog has to be treated for tape worm.”
“They even have rules about the ink the vet can use,” Beau added.
“You’re joking?” B.J. asked.
“Sadly, he isn’t.” Dixie shook her head. “They take this very seriously and if your pet’s documentation isn’t completed properly, that’s it.”
I looked down at Rex. “I guess that means I’ve got at least three weeks before the Kilpatricks will be able to take him.”
Stephanie reached across and gave my hand a squeeze. “We’ll figure something out before then.”
There was a knock on the door of the RV and Addison, Monica Jill, Dr. Morgan, Max, Lucky and Jac entered.
“My God, that calf is just the cutest thing.” Monica Jill washed her hands in the sink and then sat down at the table next to B.J. and helped herself to a sandwich and chips. “It has the biggest brown eyes and longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen.”
“Hmm.” B.J. rolled her own eyes and took a swig of her coke.
“What?” Monica Jill looked at her.
“How many calf’s eyelashes have you seen?” She stared at her friend.
Monica Jill hesitated a moment and then chuckled. “Okay, well maybe that’s the first calf I’ve ever seen up close and personal, but it was still cute.”
We laughed.
Dr. Morgan washed his hands and then joined us at the large table. “It’s certainly the first calf I’ve ever seen up close and personal.”
“You and Maisie were definitely close.” Dixie chuckled. “Tell the girls about your first calf delivery.”
Dr. Morgan blushed, but told about the calf being twisted and how he had to turn it so it could be delivered.
B.J. squirmed. “You mean you had to put your arm all the way inside—”
“Yep.” Dr. Morgan nodded.
Addison helped herself to food. “I think the calf is adorable. I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up.” Dr. Morgan answered a few questions while he ate his sandwich and chips. When the others were done, I asked the question which had puzzled me at the time.
“What were you looking at on your phone?”
“And who did you call?” Dixie asked.
Dr. Morgan swallowed before answering. “I called my dad. He grew up on a farm and used to tell us stories about delivering cows and sheep.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “He told me what I would have to do and then I watched a YouTube video.”
“Isn’t technology wonderful.” B.J. drank her Coke. “You can find a video on practically everything.”
When everyone was finished eating, we were ready to get down to business.
Dixie looked across at Addison. “Addison, can I trouble you to take the dogs for a walk?”
Addison hopped up and eagerly got the dogs leashed.
Beau rose. “Let me help you.”
He and Addison secured all of the leashes and then headed outside.
When the door closed, B.J. wiped her mouth. “Well, I’ll go first.” She glanced around before she continued. “That chauffeur was halfway lit up before he even got into the tent for lunch. He keeps a flask in his jacket which he refills with liquor from the back of the limo.”
Monica Jill banged her hand on the table. “Well, that’s not right. He shouldn’t be drinking and driving. That’s just plain dangerous.”
“Well, I certainly won’t be riding with him,” B.J. said. “He kept implying that he knew things about people.”
“What sort of things?” Dixie asked.
She shrugged. “I never could get him to say. Trust me, I tried everythin
g to get him to talk, but he just kept drinking from his flask and saying how he knew things and he was going to show them.”
“Who’s them?” I asked.
She shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. He would just take a swig from the flask and grin.” She shivered. “Anyway, he definitely knows something, but I couldn’t get anything out of him.”
Monica Jill raised her hand. “I’ll go next if that’s alright.” She looked around.
We all nodded.
“I think Mary and Fergus are a nice couple, but boy are they hard to understand.” She shook her head.
I glanced at Stephanie and stifled a laugh, but I wasn’t quick enough to escape Monica Jill’s notice.
She huffed. “Now, I know I have a bit of a southern accent.”
“A bit,” everyone said at once and then laughed.
She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know what y’all are talking ‘bout. I sound just like you two.” She pointed to Stephanie and me.
We exchanged glances and then shook our heads.
Monica Jill waved us off. “Well, I still say, those two are hard to understand with those thick Scottish accents.”
“Which one of them was actually related to Lowry?” I asked.
“Mary said Lowry was her cousin.” She shook her head. “Although, thankfully, I didn’t see the slightest bit of a resemblance.” She paused. “Where was I. Oh, yeah, Well, they asked a lot of questions about Tennessee and the dogs.”
“Was this their first visit to America?” B.J. asked.
Monica Jill frowned. “Now, that’s interesting. They said it was, but I got the distinct impression that maybe they’d been here before.” She paused. “At least, it sounded like Fergus had.”
“What made you think that?” I asked.
“We were talking about America and he mentioned something about Vegas that sounded like he’d been there once. I must have looked puzzled, because Mary said he had always wanted to go to Vegas and looked forward to going while they were here.”
B.J. pursed her lips. “Maybe Fergus made a trip to Vegas without Mary. You know what they say, ‘what happens in Vegas…’”