Competition Can Be Murder

by Connie Shelton

  “Has everyone touched this?” I asked.

  “Molly found it. And then I handled it as well. Once we found out what was inside, no one else wanted near it.”

  On the chance there might be a usable print or two, I didn’t pick it up. I lifted the lid by two opposing diagonal corners, using the tips of my thumb and third finger, avoiding the box’s flat surfaces. There inside, on a soft bed of cotton, lay a darkened, shriveled finger.

  Lunch rolled over in my stomach but settled in place. I bent to get a closer look at the stiff digit. I guessed it to be the index finger of an adult. It lay on its cotton bedding, slightly crooked, bluish-gray with a longish, dirt encrusted nail. The severed edge had been cut cleanly with something very sharp. There was no blood to be seen.

  “When did this arrive?” I asked.

  “Don’t know. Molly found it right here on this table this morning. Dusting the room, she was. Said she thought one of us had left it out. Glanced inside to find out who’s it was. Nearly frightened her to death, poor girl.” He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly agitated by the sight of the finger.

  I replaced the lid.

  “Oh, Charlie!” Sarah spotted me from the entry and wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”

  “I just learned about this,” I told her.

  “Horrible! Elizabeth’s had to be sedated. Edward’s given her something and he’s up there with her now. I told poor Molly to take the rest of the day off, but she says she’d do better by keeping busy. Afraid I feel the same way myself. Can’t seem to sit down.” Her hands fluttered as she spoke, and I noticed her eyes wouldn’t look at the box.

  “You said there was also a note?” I asked, glancing at both of them.

  “Ah, yes,” Robert said, fishing into the pocket of his cardigan for it. He handed me a slip of paper.

  It looked like a half-sheet of typing paper, ragged where it had been torn in two, and folded to the size of the box.

  “It was inside, lying on top of the . . .”

  I unfolded it and read: No more fooling around! We want our money NOW or you’ll get your boy back in pieces. Your phone will ring at 1:00.

  “It’s after one now,” I pointed out. “Has there been a call?”

  “No,” Sarah wailed. “What are they doing to us?”

  Robert put his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Trying to drive us mad with worry, I’d say. Can’t believe we’re dancing to their tune for three days now. Makes me want to have a go at them with my shotgun.”

  “No, Robert! You’ve seen what they’ll do. Poor Richie, now he’s missing a . . .” She gestured toward the box but still wouldn’t look at it.

  I took a deep breath. Somebody had to be the voice of reason here. “Okay, let’s all calm down a minute. For one thing, I’m not at all sure that’s Richie’s finger. I’m certainly no expert, but that looks like it came from someone older and larger.” I remembered Richie’s almost delicate fingers as he’d talked to me outside the crofter’s hut the other morning. The one in the box was definitely stockier and with a longer nail. “Secondly, we can’t do anything until there’s a phone call. We don’t know what they’ll have us do yet.”

  I turned to Sarah. “Do you have a small paper sack? I think we need to preserve the box with any fingerprints that might be on it.”

  She turned from Robert and hurried toward the kitchen.

  “You realize that you’ll have to call in the authorities now? They’ll have to catch these people. Even if this isn’t part of . . . well, what they want you to think it is, it came from someone. The police have to know about this.”

  He nodded a sullen acknowledgement.

  Sarah came back with a small, flat shopping bag and I set it beside the box, again trying to only touch the corners as I worked it into the little sack. I folded the top down and picked up the repulsive bundle.

  “We’ll put this in a safe place until the police can look at it. I don’t want anyone else to touch it.”

  She looked around for a suitable place, finally settling on an empty drawer in a Chinese chest across the room.

  I looked at my watch again. One-fifteen. Before I could form the thought, a phone rang somewhere in another room. My stomach did a flip as Robert and Sarah both visibly started.

  “Quick, is there an extension phone somewhere?” I asked.

  “Take the kitchen phone, dear,” she said to Robert. “I’ll show Charlie the one in the drawing room.”

  We rushed down the corridor. “Get it right after the third ring,” I told Robert.

  Sarah pointed to an old 50s-style phone on a table in the corner of the celery-green room. I let it complete its third ring, then gently lifted the receiver. Robert’s ‘hello’ came through. I shifted the mouthpiece away from my face so my breathing wouldn’t come through the line.

  “Last chance now, old man,” said the voice at the other end. “You got our little gift, didn’t you?” I listened intently, trying to analyze the sound of it.

  “Yes.” Robert’s voice was small, strained.

  “Go back to that wastebin on the Loch Ness Trail. You’ll find a note. Do what it says. Come alone, no police.” The line went dead.

  I replaced the receiver gently, closing my eyes to capture the sound I’d just heard. The gruffness of the voice, the pitch, the words.

  “Char—”

  I put up a hand in a ‘stop’ motion toward Sarah.

  That voice. There was something very familiar about it. I let my mind absorb the sound and form a picture. I thought I knew who we were dealing with.

  Chapter 32

  Robert hurried into the room. “You heard what he said? I better get going.”

  “I want to figure out a way to go with you, without letting them know I’m there,” I said. “Can you gather the rest of the family?”

  Sarah hurried toward the stairs to get Elizabeth and Edward, while Robert and I headed to the front door.

  “I think it’s someone close by,” I told him, “someone who knows our moves.”

  “Brodie. We figured that out,” he said.

  “No, we didn’t. I know you’d like to suspect him, but I have my doubts.” I watched him raise the seat of a bench in the entry and pull out the plastic sack of money. “There’s a spot up by the rock garden that gives a perfect view of the castle, including the door and the parking area. I think someone’s been watching the family.”

  The others joined us in the entryway, including Molly. I briefly outlined what I wanted them to do. Staying close together in a group, we walked outside.

  As planned, Robert made a show of opening the back door of the Bentley and tossing the sack of money into the back seat. I ducked under his arm and crawled onto the floor of the back. Robert climbed into the driver’s seat and we were off. I could only hope that the others would play out their portions of the little scene. The plan was, if they walked back inside together, anyone watching wouldn’t realize that I wasn’t with them.

  I settled into a more comfortable position on the floor of the luxury car. It handled the dirt lane smoothly and truly glided once we came to paved roads.

  “Everything all right back there?” Robert asked over his shoulder.

  “Just fine. As we get closer, don’t look back at me. Let me know if you see anything unusual.”

  I settled in for the ride. It would probably take at least thirty minutes, and I found myself becoming drowsy by the time Robert alerted me that he was making the turn to the Loch Ness Trail. In a few minutes I felt the car slow and stop.

  “The voice said there would be a note,” I said. “Can you see it?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “I’ll get out and look.”

  His door opened and closed. I fidgeted on the floor of the back seat, not daring to raise my head.

  “Got it,” Robert said as he slid into his seat again.

  “Any sign of anyone watching the area?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Here’s the note.”r />
  “Don’t pass it back here,” I cautioned. “Read it aloud.”

  Paper crinkled and he cleared his throat. “That was step one. Keep driving south to Fort Augustus. Put the money in the wastebin at the petrol station on the left. Walk across to the restaurant directly across the street. Go through it and out the back door to find Richie. You have twenty minutes.”

  “How do they know what time we’re picking this up?” I asked, throwing logic into the problem. “Pass the note to me, down low.”

  Robert started the car and thrust the paper through the space between his seat and the door. He began driving as I flattened the sheet. Again, it was written on plain typing paper, the letters in block printing that looked like someone’s attempt to write with their off hand so it wouldn’t be recognizable. I stuffed the note into my jeans pocket.

  The car picked up speed and I braced myself, dreading the possibility of a head-on crash on the narrow, twisting road. An eternity passed before Robert announced, “Fort Augustus, three miles.”

  “Any other cars in sight?” I asked.

  “Not a one.”

  “I have to straighten my legs for a minute or two,” I groaned. I raised myself to a position where my butt could rest on the edge of the seat while my legs stretched fully extended to the floor on the opposite side of the roomy old car. Tingles shot through my ankles and feet. I wiggled them to get feeling back. The view outside was pretty much like the rest of the Loch Ness drive, thick forest with occasional glimpses of the lake on our right.

  “Any thoughts on what I should be doing while you’re walking across the street to that restaurant?” I asked.

  “Can’t very well let anyone see you lying on the floor back there, can we?”

  “When you get to this petrol station, see what the layout is like. Maybe there’ll be a place you can park off to the side, away from the pumps.”

  “Guess that would be logical,” he agreed.

  A sign indicated that we were one mile from Fort Augustus, so I ducked back out of sight. I felt the car slow down considerably.

  “There’s the station,” Robert said. “On the left.” The car glided over the driveway bump. “There’s a spot near the toilets. I’ll park there and walk the money over to those bins by the pumps.”

  “Anything in here to cover me up with?” I asked. I felt suddenly vulnerable to view by anyone strolling by who would surely wonder why a woman was crouching behind the driver’s seat in a parked car.

  “Jacket?” he suggested. “Could toss mine over you.”

  The vehicle lurched as the front tires hit a bumper of some kind. He cut the engine and opened his door, while I made myself as tiny as possible, wrapped around my purse into a Charlie-ball.

  “Ow, what was that?” I muttered as something hard in Robert’s jacket hit me on the head.

  “Oops, cell phone. Guess I better take it with me.” He retrieved it and spread the jacket softly over me. It blanketed me in a cloud of darkness and a residue of men’s club smells—cigar smoke and aftershave, underlaid with a wisp of male sweat. I hoped he wouldn’t be gone long.

  The plastic garbage bag crinkled, electric locks clicked down, and the car door thunked soundly shut. I tried to mentally map out Robert’s progress, imagining how long each step would take and how soon I could again uncurl. By the time I’d imagined him dropping the money bag, crossing the street, and walking toward the back of a restaurant I’d never seen, my knees felt like they’d been crimped in a vise. I sneaked a look at my watch and saw that he’d only been gone two minutes. I watched the second hand creep around until that became three minutes. This was a dumb idea.

  I should have had him drop me off a couple of blocks away and I could have found a surveillance spot within view of the money bag. By now, they’d probably snatched the cash and taken off. Here was I, not seeing anything, and there was Robert, waiting for Richie, who probably wouldn’t turn up at all.

  From somewhere in the depths of my purse, my cell phone rang. I whacked my elbow on some hard surface as I struggled to unzip the bag while remaining wrapped around it like a piece of bacon in a rumaki appetizer. My mind raced to the possibility that Sarah had received word of Richie at home, or that Robert had gotten lost in crossing the street. I finally managed to fumble for the phone by feel, and get the correct button pressed in the half light under my jacket cloak.

  “Hello?”

  “Charlie? It’s Meggie.”

  My brain took a very long moment to process. “Meggie?”

  “At the office?”

  “What’s wrong?” Nothing could be right if Meggie called me now.

  “I can’t raise Brian or Drake on the radio,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Are they in flight?” I asked.

  “I think so. Last word was that they were lifting off in five minutes. That was thirty minutes ago, and I’ve been trying to call them since.”

  “What’re your procedur—” I heard a key in the Bentley’s lock. “Hold on a second, Meggie.”

  “Blast it!” Robert said. “More instructions.”

  The sack of money flew over my head and landed with a thump on the back seat.

  “Just a second,” I told him. Turning back to my phone, I said, “Meggie, do you have safety procedures to follow?”

  “Em . . .”

  “Some policy on what to do when an aircraft is considered late?”

  “Yes, somewhere around here.”

  “Find them. Usually you’re supposed to wait about an hour. Keep trying the radio and call me back if you can’t raise a response in that amount of time.”

  “Can you come . . .”

  “Not at this moment. I’m . . . I’m not sure what’s happening. I’ll check back when I can catch my breath.” I clicked off before she could say anything more.

  I realized the car was in motion again. Unburying my head from the cigar-reeking jacket, I took a deep breath. “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “Damn it all,” he spouted. “They called again. I’d done everything just right. Dropped the money, walked through that little restaurant across the road. There was a back door, straight through the place, and I went out there. Phone rang.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Same voice as before. Said ‘Good work, old man. You can follow instructions. Now go get the money and drive up to Drumnadrochit.’ Course by now I’m frightened that someone else may have picked up the money.”

  “Where’s Drumnadrochit?” I asked.

  “Other side of the loch. About halfway back to Inverness. Tell you, they’re driving us in circles.”

  I curbed a flash of irritation. “Did he give you a deadline?”

  “Twenty minutes again. It’s okay. Better road this time.”

  I felt the luxury car pick up speed as we left Fort Augustus behind. I unrolled myself and sat up partially. “Keep your eyes on the other cars. Watch for anyone who’s watching us. I want to stay out of sight, but I can’t stay in a ball forever.”

  “I’ll keep my distance from the others,” he said.

  “So, what’s at this next place and what’re we supposed to do?”

  “Drumnadrochit. It’s what you Americans would call a tourist trap. Place where the Loch Ness boat cruises board. Museum there, lots of shops. I’m to park by the museum and take the money to the high grass by the Nessie lagoon. Then I go into this one shop and buy something. When I come out, Richie’s supposed to be standing by Nessie.”

  “Standing by Nessie? You mean he holds still?”

  “Ach, big plaster dinosaur is what it is. Tourists love to take their pictures standing there.” His glance shifted from the road ahead to his rearview mirror, to his side mirrors. “Don’t know if it’s anything, but there’s a white vehicle back there. Been staying even with us, back a half-mile or so. Keep your head low.”

  I told him my idea of getting out at some point before the drop off place so I could watch the money sack, but we agreed that it wou
ldn’t be smart to do that if another vehicle was keeping ours in sight.

  “Watch him,” I said. “If he’s still back there as we get to the outskirts of town, I’ll furl myself back up on the floor.”

  “Better start furling,” he said. “We’re nearly there and that car is still behind us.”

  I didn’t relish having the smoky jacket over my head again, but supposed it was inevitable. The tires crunched over gravel and we went up a slight incline.

  “Car park’s here,” Robert said. “And the white car just zipped past. Didn’t turn off.”

  “I wonder . . . No, I better not take the chance. I’ll stay in here again.”

  He angled the car into a slot and reached over the back of his seat. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, tucking the jacket over me and reaching for the money sack.

  Again, the heavy car door slammed with a solid thunk, sealing me in tightly. I pulled my cell phone from my purse once more and dialed the Air-Sea number.

  “Meggie? Any word from Drake yet?”

  Chapter 33

  I held my breath, not really wanting to hear the answer.

  “No, ma’am, and it’s been nearly an hour now.”

  “What do your instructions say?”

  “Overdue aircraft are to be reported when they’re an hour late,” she said. Panic edged very near the surface.

  “Do you have phone numbers to call?”

  “Yes, right here on my list.” I heard papers crackling in the background. “Do ye think I should start calling them?”

  “What was your last communication from Drake?”

  She repeated what she’d told me earlier.

  “You’ve been trying all this time to raise him on the radio? What about his cell phone? Have you tried that recently?”

  “No, I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Okay, try that. I’d come in, but I’m stuck right now. Call me back if you’re able to get him.” I hung up.