Competition Can Be Murder

by Connie Shelton

  Chapter 26

  Sarah uttered a faint whimper and sank down to the ottoman beside Elizabeth. “You don’t honestly think . . .”

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said. After all, I’d had my own suspicions about Ian. “He really doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would go this far.” I thought of Ian working with his dogs, his brief tirade against the government policies on wool prices. He was angry, but I still saw him as a simple, hard-working man who just wanted to get a little bit ahead in this world.

  “But . . . I sense there’s a ‘but’ in there someplace,” Robert said.

  Literally. “I did find a couple of little indicators that someone may have been watching the house,” I told them. “But without fingerprints or DNA evidence, they certainly aren’t proof that the person was Ian.”

  “Come on, Charlie, who else would it be?”

  “I don’t know.” I fought against letting my voice become too sharp. “You haven’t given me much to go on here. You don’t seem to feel you have any enemies, and I don’t have the manpower to go out and canvass the neighborhood to find out otherwise. I only found out about the bad blood between you and Ian Brodie because I overheard an argument outside my window one morning.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak more slowly. “I’ve repeatedly asked you to call in the authorities. They would have the manpower to investigate properly.”

  Sarah and Elizabeth stared at me, their eyes growing wider. Robert stomped across the room and picked up the telephone.

  “Well, now that we know it’s Brodie, maybe I will call them. Let them—”

  The portable phone rang in his hand, startling all of us.

  “Oh, bother,” he said, hitting the button to answer the call. “Yes, what is it?”

  He listened intently, the anger draining from his face.

  “Yes. I’ve got it,” he finally said, hanging up.

  “While it’s fresh, repeat every word they said,” I told him.

  “He said, ‘You failed the first test, idiot, but did much better on the second one. This will be your last chance and you’d better get this one right. Come alone. Go down Route B862 for exactly one-point-five miles beyond the sign that says Loch Ness Trail. At that point, there’s a turnout on the left. Stop there and put the money into the waste bin.’ Then he said, ‘Have the money in a trash sack, not that stupid black valise you’ve been using.’ ”

  So our moves had been watched.

  “What about Richie?” I asked.

  “Coming to that. He said, ‘Drive exactly two more miles in the same direction and stop at the next turnout. Richie will be waiting there.’ That’s all he said.”

  “Nothing about leaving the police out of it?” I asked.

  “I don’t think we dare,” he said. “They’ve obviously been watching everything we’ve done so far. And it’s our last chance, he said.”

  “Unfortunately, I think you’re right about that,” I said. “Was it the same voice as before?”

  “Pretty certain it was.” He laid the phone on a table and rubbed his face with both hands. The stress of the day showed. “I better get moving. Sarah, find me a trash bag, will you?”

  She rose automatically from her seat and went toward the kitchen.

  “I’m glad they left Lewis out of it this time,” I said. “I never was comfortable with the idea of sending him in there alone.”

  Robert knelt on the floor and scooped stacks of cash out of the valise. He transferred them to the black garbage bag when Sarah brought it a minute later.

  “Dark soon,” Robert said. “I’m sure they’re counting on that.”

  “Perhaps Edward should follow in another car, just in case you need him,” Sarah said.

  I watched conflicting emotions cross Robert’s face. He wanted to catch Ian Brodie in the act of taking the money, I knew. But he couldn’t put his grandson’s life at risk in the process. I wished we knew for certain that there was only one kidnapper involved in it, but we didn’t and I didn’t think we could take the chance that someone else wouldn’t be watching the house to see how many of us left.

  “Robert better walk out alone, get into a car, and leave. The rest of the cars, including mine, should stay here,” I said. “I’ll call Drake to let him know why I’m not home.”

  Robert pulled on a jacket and retrieved the keys to Sarah’s Land Rover off the pegs near the door.

  “Take your cell phone,” I suggested. “At least you can keep us posted that way.”

  “Good idea. That road’s pretty remote. One lane, and you take your chances with the oncoming traffic.”

  “Just be careful, love,” Sarah said, stretching to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

  Edward had emerged from the library, catching some of the commotion from the rest of us in the corridor. We watched somberly as Robert picked up the trash bag and headed out.

  “I need to make that call,” I told Sarah.

  “Certainly, dear, just find yourself a quiet corner anywhere.” She waved vaguely down the corridor.

  Movement on the stairs at the far end of the hall caught my eye. Lewis and Alasdair came loping down in that gangly way only teenagers can negotiate stairs. The house was so large I’d forgotten about the two of them.

  “May we take the Range Rover, ma’am?” Lewis politely addressed Sarah.

  “No, sorry. Not tonight boys.”

  Alasdair’s face tightened into an instant petulant scowl. Lewis fidgeted in his shoes.

  “But ma’am,” Alasdair argued, “we’ve got plans with some boys from school.”

  “I think you may want to stay here,” she replied. “We’ve just received another call about Richie. Mr. Dunbar’s gone off to fetch him home.”

  The two boys exchanged a pained look. A variety of arguments flickered across their faces.

  “We can’t take the chance of letting anyone else drive away,” I said. “The kidnappers may be watching the house and we can’t let anyone’s movements foul up the plan.”

  “Right.” Sarah pulled all the other vehicle keys from their pegs and jammed them firmly into the slash pockets in her twill slacks. “Everyone’s in for the night.”

  “You’ll want to be here when Richie gets home anyway, won’t you?” Elizabeth asked. It was the first thing she’d said all evening.

  Lewis glanced up at the taller boy. Alasdair smiled and spoke for both of them. “Sure. We’ll be here.”

  They turned and went back upstairs.

  “Not the most sociable young lads,” Sarah muttered as she turned toward the kitchen. “Can’t figure them out. Asked them this morning if they’d rather go home and they said no, they wanted to be here for Richie. Now they don’t seem to care.”

  “Kids—we just don’t know what makes them tick, do we?” I said. I excused myself to make my call and went into the library, since everyone else seemed to have headed for the kitchen.

  Drake wasn’t thrilled that I was captive in the castle for awhile, but said he’d make the best of it by raiding the fridge for some dinner. We talked a few more minutes, since we’d not exactly spent any time together all day. I wandered around the room, glancing at books on the shelves and bric-a-brac that probably predated the founding of America. On one lower bookshelf I spotted a surprisingly modern collection of telephone directories. Idly fingering through them, I realized they covered most of northern Scotland, probably Robert’s Parliamentary constituency. An idea flickered to life.

  “Let’s hope Robert and Richie come back within the hour and I’m safely home by bedtime,” I said to Drake. “If not, I’ll give another call to keep you posted.”

  As we were saying goodbye, I pulled the directory for Aberdeen from the stack. The yellow pages section looked pretty much like ours at home and I quickly found two hospitals listed in Aberdeen.

  “I’d like to inquire about the condition of Mr. Brodie,” I said to the elderly female voice that answered the first Information number.

  “Are you
a family member, dear?”

  “No, a close friend of his son’s.” I prayed that she wouldn’t ask Mr. Brodie’s first name because that would definitely give away the fact that I wasn’t all that close.

  “I’ll put you through to the nurse’s station,” she said.

  The extension rang four times before a harried-sounding voice picked it up. I repeated my question and was told that Mr. Brodie’s recovery was coming along as expected and he would probably be released in a few more days. “Would you like to be connected to his room?” the nurse asked.

  “Oh, that’s all right, I’ll let him rest.”

  So Ian’s story was true. Although I didn’t have absolute proof that Ian was at his father’s bedside, it didn’t seem likely that he could have counted on a heart attack to provide him with an alibi. So, if Ian wasn’t the kidnapper, who was? And where was Richie right now?

  Chapter 27

  I looked at my watch, imagining a very long evening ahead. I wanted to go home. I’d just jammed the directory for Aberdeen back onto the shelf when I spotted Molly standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” she said. “Mrs. Dunbar said to tell you that we’ve put a cold buffet out in the dining room, in case anyone’s hungry. You’re to help yourself if you’d like something.”

  “Thanks, Molly.”

  She gave a quick nod and bustled off down the hallway. I couldn’t remember if I’d eaten anything since the early breakfast and the mention of food made me realize I was starving. I stuffed my cell phone into my pocket and followed the long corridor to the family dining room. The sideboard contained platters of cold cuts and cheeses, plates of sliced fruit, and a mixed green salad in a large bowl. I made myself a quick sandwich and heaped my plate with salad and fruit.

  No one else had touched anything and I found myself setting my plate down at an otherwise empty table. Again, I wished for the comforts of home—Drake and myself, with TV trays in front of the news channel and Rusty watching with liquid brown eyes for that one morsel that might fall to the floor. My throat tightened. It would be weeks yet before I’d realize that little scenario. Meanwhile, castle life would have to do. I took a deep breath and stabbed at my salad with a fork.

  “Don’t you dare say—” The loud whisper was immediately cut off as the speaker pushed through the swinging door at the end of the room. Alasdair and Lewis gave me startled looks.

  “Say what?” I asked, pinning them with my eyes.

  Alasdair recovered first. “Say to Mrs. Dunbar that he’s homesick,” he said, jerking his thumb back toward Lewis. “Little crybaby wants to go home.”

  Lewis’s face flushed. “Do not! I just said . . .” He stopped abruptly at a look from the taller boy. His eyes glistened.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I said. “I was just having the same thoughts myself. This is a pretty nice place, but it just isn’t the same, is it?”

  Alasdair headed for the buffet, making himself a sandwich that featured at least six layers of alternating ham and cheese and a generous slab of mustard. He wrapped it in a napkin and completely skipped the salads. Lewis put six strawberries on a plate and brought it to the table. He sat at the opposite end from me.

  “I’m taking my sandwich back to the room,” Alasdair announced. He gave Lewis a direct look and mouthed the word crybaby.

  The younger boy turned away, eyes firmly affixed to the business of carving each strawberry into four pieces and forking them to his mouth.

  “Lewis, it’s okay,” I said. “Don’t let him get you down.”

  He shrugged but was saved from having to answer when Edward and Sarah walked in. Edward looked at his watch, apparently calculating whether Robert would have had time yet to reach the drop point. With a half-shrug, he headed for the food and proceeded to pile a plate full.

  Sarah quietly crossed the cushy Oriental rug and laid her arm around Lewis’s shoulders. With a grandmother’s sense of what a kid needs, she gave him one strong squeeze but didn’t say a word. She looked up at me.

  “See you found something to eat. Everything all right?” she asked.

  “It’s great. Sorry I didn’t wait for everyone else,” I said.

  “No, no,” she said. “That was the point. Each of us can eat when we’re ready.” She turned to Lewis. “Did Alasdair get something?”

  When he nodded she turned to the buffet herself. As she placed a few items on her plate, Edward sat down, his plate heaping. I noticed Lewis taking stock of the food and saw a little of his appetite come back. Without Alasdair’s taunting influence, Lewis got up and made a second pass at the sideboard. This time, I was pleased to see, he made a decent sandwich for himself.

  “I can’t help wondering where Robert is right now,” Sarah said, taking a seat next to me. “Just can’t get the whole subject out of my mind.”

  “I doubt any of us can,” I said. “Not until we see Richie safely back home.”

  Lewis stood, squirming, beside the table. “Is it all right, ma’am, if I take this to my room?”

  “Oh, certainly, Lewis.” She waved him on his way.

  “He’s certainly more well-mannered than Alasdair,” I told her.

  “Oh, yes. Those three—what a team they’ve been over the years. Richie and Alasdair vying for ringleader, and little Lewis tagging along with the group. Remember, Edward, the time they took an entire batch of freshly baked biscuits out to give to the ducks?”

  Edward, with his mouth bulging, shrugged vaguely. I sensed he wasn’t exactly the kind of man who was home to witness all the kids’ antics.

  “And one summer Richie convinced the other two that his grandfather wouldn’t mind if they drove the lawn tractor. Got the thing stuck in a ditch, and they had some answering to do when it turned out Grandfather did mind.” She chuckled at the memory.

  “One year we had no renters in that cottage where the young couple are, the ones with the sheep. The boys decided they’d camp out in that barn. Woke up in the night to discover mice in their sleeping bags! They’ve not been much on camping out since then.”

  Her mention of the Brodies reminded me of something that had crossed my mind earlier. I wanted to ask Ramona if she needed help with the animals tomorrow. By getting inside again, I hoped to verify a couple of things. I excused myself, placing my empty plate on a side table as Elizabeth came into the room. Her soft blond hair had a tangle in the back, as if she’d just gotten up from a nap.

  I padded back to the library on the soft runner that went up the corridor, and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. Somewhere . . . I knew I’d written down the phone number Ramona had given me, but I couldn’t find it. Back to my purse, which I’d left hanging on one of the pegs by the front door. I took it back to the library with me and rummaged through the bits and scraps inside, finally coming up with it. Ramona answered on the first ring.

  “Oh, Charlie, I’m glad you called.”

  “I heard Ian’s father was doing better,” I said. I hoped she wouldn’t question exactly how I knew this.

  “Yes, it’s good news, isn’t it? Ian was certainly glad to be home again.”

  “Home? At his parents’ house?”

  “Oh no.” She laughed. “Home here, with me. Wherever we are, I guess that’s how I think of it.”

  “Ian’s back here? When did he get in?” I pictured his alibi suddenly being shot to pieces.

  “Em, I’d say about mid-afternoon.”

  “Oh, well I won’t disturb your evening together then,” I said quickly. I envisioned Ian listening to the other end of this conversation and wondering who was grilling his wife.

  “Well, he’s not here at the moment,” she said. “Ian’s a true rancher, I guess. Had to get out right away and check on the flock. Out there in the dark now, he is, he and the dogs. Dinner’s waiting, but it’ll be cold before he gets any, I’m sure.”

  “I just called because I thought you might need help with the animals tomorrow,” I said, watching my reason for getting back into their hou
se float away.

  “Oh, Charlie, that’s so nice of you! But I guess we’re fine now. You won’t have to worry yourself with it.”

  She gushed a little more about my being such a good friend, while I felt like a rat for sneaking around gathering evidence against her husband. We hung up with vague talk of shopping or a movie together sometime.

  I sank into one of the library’s cushy chairs. Was Ian really out tending the sheep in the dark? Or was he more likely driving down the Loch Ness Trail to meet Robert and collect ₤50,000? And what about Richie—where had he been all this time?

  Voices nearby indicated that the family had finished their dinner and were beginning to gather in the drawing room, next to the library. It was a little after eight. How many more hours would we have to wait for news? I stretched and wished for Drake. Maybe, even if someone were watching the place, it would be okay for one car to leave—mine. Maybe I should feel like a selfish shit for thinking of myself instead of worrying myself sick over Richie’s safety. Somehow, from the tone of the ransom notes, I had the feeling that this whole thing was more about the money than it was about harming the boy. I hoped I was right.

  I strolled toward the drawing room, where at least the smell of coffee held some appeal. Sarah held a tray full of ornate silver services pieces, while Molly stood slightly behind her, bearing another with cups and saucers.

  “Push those magazines aside, will you?” Sarah asked the room at large.

  I reached forward at the same moment Elizabeth did. We cleared a spot and Sarah proceeded to pour and distribute cups.

  “So, nothing new?” I asked, settling onto a large ottoman with my cream-laced coffee.

  “Not a word.” Sarah’s face was losing some of its perpetual good cheer. She looked tired.

  Edward and Elizabeth were barely speaking, and the two boys had disappeared again. I was just thinking what a dismal group we were when the phone rang. Cups rattled, then heads swiveled until Sarah discovered where the phone had been left. She picked it up cautiously.