Mystery: The Merlon Murders: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 1)

by Victoria Benchley

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I have an appointment with Caroline Menzies. I'm Duncan Dewar."

  He held out his hand and took a step towards her, but didn't get far as the smallest dog put out a growl. The woman looked at him with furrowed brows as though she were perplexed.

  "Duncan Dewar from Lawful and General," he repeated.

  There was another awkward pause. Then, she spoke.

  "I'm Caroline Menzies." She smiled and added, "but I thought I was meeting with Angela Smith at ten."

  Angela was the secretary for Duncan's department. She had made the arrangements for this interview. She must have gotten her wires crossed regarding the time and not been clear about who would be doing the interview. He was briefly at a loss for words.

  "Angela is my secretary. I apologize for the mix up. Would you prefer I come back at ten?"

  "Oh, no, that's not necessary. Just let me put the pups away and I'll meet you at the front door."

  Caroline gestured towards the ornately carved stone porch to his right. She gave a command to the dogs and strode away from him. The animals followed Caroline, trotting behind, as she headed around the back of the building. Duncan felt safe staring at her as she left, as long as she didn't turn around. It was then he realized he had seen her likes before, yesterday afternoon outside the bakery.

  He almost made it to the front entrance when his foot came out of his shoe, his loafer lodged in mud. At that exact moment, Caroline opened the wide door to see him perched on one foot, like a stork. He was wearing some brightly striped socks his mum had given him last year for Christmas, and he hoped there were no holes in the toes. Duncan utilized his briefcase to help balance, adjusting its position up and down and from side to side in an effort to avoid falling over. An amused smile played across the woman's face as she unlocked the yett. Original to the structure, this wrought iron gate, or yett, still protected the doorway of the castle. She stepped towards him and offered her arm as support as his right leg fumbled gauchely to the rear, seeking its shoe. The loafer was quite a distance behind him. He must have been hurrying to get to the door.

  The investigator turned bright red. He was getting flustered and felt terribly embarrassed. Normally, he was not a self conscious person, but something about Caroline made him want to impress her. Instead, he now looked like a circus clown performing a strange balancing act. At least he was sure she must think so. As he wobbled, trying desperately to keep his balance and locate his missing loafer, Duncan grabbed her wrist. She managed to lean hard in the opposite direction, keeping him from falling. Thank the good Lord, he thought. He definitely did not want to tumble into this mud, like a tar baby, in front of her.

  Duncan's foot finally found its shoe. Although by this time, he was practically doing the splits. Again, Caroline leaned away and used leverage to help him back into a full upright position. He stepped onto the porch and bent over, seeing if he could scrape the mud off his shoes.

  "Whew! That was a close one," Caroline said with mock sincerity.

  He looked up at her from his stooped position. She was getting a kick out of this. A short burst of nervous laughter came from him and she laughed too.

  "Come on, you're good enough. Follow me," she said and turned to enter the Menzies stronghold.

  He didn't notice any of the castle's details as he followed a few steps behind her through a dark, stone hallway. His powers of observation were being used elsewhere. Duncan examined her backside, from the top of her head down to the heel of her wellies. Caroline had thick, golden blonde hair that reached well below her shoulders. There were plenty of blondes in the U.K., but none had this kind of effect on him. He was sure he felt some kind of electricity when he grabbed Caroline's wrist. He noted her narrow shoulders and petite size. How could someone so small pull his muscular frame out of the mud like that?

  The hallway turned and continued on to a light-filled kitchen. They passed some side rooms along the way, but he hadn't really taken note of them. The kitchen was in the back of the castle and was where Caroline had entered after depositing her dogs elsewhere. Only part of the kitchen had been renovated. While the hallway walls had been raw stone, most of the kitchen was plastered over. To his left, there was a barreled ceiling with a large alcove for the enormous fireplace. He assumed the it had functioned as a stove in the past. To his right was a wall of windows which must have been installed within the last 100 years. The counter, sink, cabinets and modern stove were below these windows. A refrigerator stood in another barreled alcove. A rustic table was set with what was going to be Caroline's breakfast, a pot of tea, jars of preserves, and oat cakes.

  She placed another cup and saucer on the table and said, "Please join me."

  Caroline went to the refrigerator and removed what looked to be an ice pack. She saw that Duncan was watching her and held up her wrist. It was a reddish blue, almost purple.

  "Oh, no! I've sprained your wrist!"

  He hurried over to Caroline and took the ice pack from her. He gingerly examined her arm.

  "I'm sorry," he said, whincing.

  He led Caroline back to the table and pulled a chair out for her. Duncan placed her arm on the table, and carefully balanced the blue ice pack on top of her wrist. He poured her a cup of tea from the pot on the table.

  "Do you have any aspirin?"

  "The bathroom is down the hall behind me, second door on the left. The medicine cabinet there has aspirin," she said.

  He noticed a surprised look on her face. Duncan nodded and hurried down that hall. As he went, he thought about how it had felt to hold her hand and lead her back to the table. He hadn't thought twice, taking her hand. He was in a bit of a panic, thinking that he had harmed her.

  He returned from the loo with the aspirin bottle, found a glass, and filled it with water. He handed her two aspirin and placed the water glass next to her teacup.

  "You'll want to take two aspirin every four hours for the swelling. Do you think you need a doctor? I'll be happy to drive you back into Taye." His tone and actions reflected his gallant nature.

  "No, I'm sure I'll be fine. I think it's just a bruise."

  "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Ms. Menzies."

  He didn't know if he should call her Miss or Mrs., so he went with the ever safe Ms. What he really wanted was to call her Caroline.

  "It's all right. I didn't realize you were so heavy," she said and gave him a sheepish smile.

  Duncan couldn't take his eyes off her.

  "How many stones do you weigh?" she asked, letting a laugh escape her lips.

  The intense gaze of his brown eyes made Caroline uneasy. Her nerves prompted her to blurt out the remarks about his weight.

  It suddenly occurred to him that she had no brogue, no British accent. She must be an American. There was nothing in the research Angela had done that mentioned this. He had been too distracted to even realize she was from the States. This was a lousy way to start off an interview, a field investigation.

  The years he spent in the U.S. left a bad taste in his mouth towards Americans. It was a painful period for him. His father, a university professor, took an opportunity to swap positions with an American college lecturer. What was supposed to be a one year adventure turned into a six year stint. Duncan had not fit in immediately with the American children he met. His Scottish accent worked against him at that age. Believing he would be home in a year, he made no effort to blend with his new peers or surroundings. It was a tough adjustment for a nine year old, and he took his comfort in food, becoming heavy.

  Kids teased him, calling him "Fat Cat", due to his thick black hair and weight. He never realized those features, along with others, now made him handsome. He received several thrashings from local boys before Angus stepped in. Angus had a strict rule that his brothers must try to get satisfaction on their own. If that failed, Angus, younger, but much bigger than Duncan, would beat the daylights out of the rabble. This was, of course, extremely humiliating to him, but better than the continued beatings.
Angus was not only the largest Dewar boy, he was the best looking and most personable.

  Professor Dewar made an enormous splash with the Americans. They loved his accent. He taught physics with humor and panache and was often compared to Richard Feynman. Duncan's unhappiness eventually played into his parents' decision to return home. Those formative years in America affected Duncan in many ways, some he never realized. One obvious result was the softening of his accent. People could not place where he was from, usually guessing somewhere on the continent. Another result was his dislike of Americans.

  He decided to drink his cup of tea and gather his rambling thoughts. Caroline was trying to stifle her laughter, which made her shoulders quiver.

  "You must be the hawkish one they called me about yesterday!" she burst out, laughing audibly.

  Duncan did not know his looks could make people nervous and say things they might not otherwise.

  "What?"

  "This is a small town and when someone new shows up in the off season, word does get around quickly. A friend of mine that works at the Blue Bell called me yesterday to say a hawkishly good looking fellow had arrived." She fancied adding one that can do acrobatics, but when she saw the hurt look on his face she didn't.

  Duncan had wanted to avoid appearing foolish to her. He hoped to impress her somehow. Now, she was laughing at him. He didn't realize that his emotions were showing on his face.

  She stopped chuckling and added, "I was expecting Angela Smith, so the appearance of a handsome man was a mystery."

  She hoped that would make up for any rude remarks she had made. These Brits were awfully testy sometimes and even though she had been living in Scotland for years, she still found herself making the occasional faux pas. I guess I shouldn't have asked him about his weight, she thought to herself. Even though Caroline had grown up with brothers, she had no idea how sensitive men were.

  "If you're ready, let's get to it," Duncan said in a business-like tone as he reached for his briefcase. "I'm just warning you that this will probably be difficult. There's no way around that."

  Caroline was surprised at how harsh he suddenly sounded. She had almost forgotten what this meeting was about. It had seemed like a social call earlier. Now his words made her tense.

  "Alright," was all she could muster.

  He made a conscious effort to take a professional attitude towards Caroline Menzies. He was angry that she had laughed about his looks and weight. Obviously, she thought he was more clownish than hawkish. He had not carried an extra stone since his teens, but the fat kid mentality had stuck with him ever since. He didn't realize that his tone grew stern and even hostile at times during their interview.

  "When you saw the automatic payments to L and G, why didn't you register a benefit claim?" Duncan asked.

  He'd start with the tough stuff to get things back on a professional keel. Not making a claim right away was suspicious.

  "I didn't know those payments were for life insurance. Stuart handled all the finances. After the accident, it took time to acquaint myself with the business end of things. The estate is pretty complex. I just assumed we were paying property insurance. Sooner or later, I might have questioned it, but I was, am, still getting the hang of everything here."

  He typed her answers into his laptop. He would print everything out later.

  "How did you happen across the life insurance policy?"

  "I didn't do much the first year after," Caroline paused a moment before continuing, "after the accident. A few months ago, I began going through Stuart's effects. He was a bit of a pack rat. His office was chock full of documents of all kinds. I can show it to you if you'd like." Duncan would like. "Anyway, it was in a drawer with some crop information he had kept. Stuart rented his fields to local farmers each summer. It didn't make any sense to keep it there, but that's just the way Stuart was."

  "Are you saying he was disorganized, forgetful?"

  "No, not forgetful. Some people might think he was disorganized, but I would not have described him that way. Stuart knew where everything was. It just might not make sense to others, but he always had a reason for everything he did. Stuart was highly intelligent," Caroline concluded.

  He found himself getting jealous of a dead man. She thought Stuart was intelligent. He could show her real intelligence. He earned a top prize at the European Congress of Mathematics. The International Mathematics Union had considered him for a Fields Medal. He had even been on the short list of possible speakers for a TED conference.

  "How long did you know Stuart before you married him?" Duncan shot at her.

  Caroline looked like she might cry. He was questioning her as though he thought she was responsible for Stuart's death. She took a sip of her tea and looked at her bruised wrist. She needed a quick moment to collect herself and she took it. She turned her wrist over so its underside could be iced.

  "I've known Stuart since I was a kid," she said in a cool tone.

  "How did you meet?" Duncan asked matter-of-factly, staring at his computer screen.

  He no longer made eye contact with Caroline.

  "My older brother, James, was his pen pal. My mother was a Dewar and they found each other through some sort of Menzies pen pal exchange program for kids. When Stuart took his gap year, he came to the States and stayed at our home for a few months in the summer. Then, when he finished university, he came back again for a visit. After high school, my parents and I went to Europe and I saw him again. By then, we were the pen pals."

  Duncan forced himself to look at Caroline and asked, "Weren't you a little young for Stuart?" Immediately he felt ashamed for asking such a question.

  Caroline gave him a cool smile and answered, "He waited for me."

  I just bet he did, Duncan thought, his shame melting away at her coolness.

  He looked back to his computer and asked, "How old were you when you married Stuart?"

  "Why is that important?" Caroline asked sharply. She had a notion to ask him to leave.

  "Ms. Menzies, we are looking at a claim for eleven million pounds. There are certain standard questions I have to ask. Because of the amount of the claim and the circumstances of your husband's death, I will also be asking some non-standard questions. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. Please answer the question."

  Caroline took a deep breath. This grilling was exhausting. She no longer found Duncan Dewar attractive. He was a bully.

  "I married Stuart when I was 22 years old. He insisted I finish college and get my degree before we wed. I was the salutatorian of my high school. I graduated with a degree in Art History from SMU, that's Southern Methodist University, in Texas. We were married for six years when he died. Anything else?" she said, rising from her chair.

  Duncan realized he had worn out his welcome. How had this gone so terribly wrong? She was dismissing him. He would not get a tour of the castle today, nor did he think she was going to answer any more of his questions. If he had behaved differently, he might have spent the entire day here.

  "I will be contacting you in the next few days for further information." He tried to sound like he was in control, when actually he was getting the boot from Caroline.

  "Peter will show you out." She nodded towards the hallway where Duncan had entered the kitchen, her voice curt.

  Duncan felt perplexed as he turned. A tall, trim young man stood a few feet behind him. He had black, short hair and dark circles under his eyes. He knew that Stuart had a nephew named Peter. Perhaps this was him. It was unnerving that Peter stood so close behind him without Duncan noticing he was there. He wondered how long the boy had been standing in the kitchen. Peter glared at him. Duncan rose to leave, but Peter didn't budge until he had walked past him. He could feel Peter shadowing him through the hall, back to the front door.

  At the yett, he turned to face Stuart's nephew. Duncan, under two meters tall, stood almost eye to eye with Peter. Duncan was muscular, he had been an athlete in school and now worked out and lifted we
ights on a regular basis. He wanted to let Peter know he wasn't intimidated by him. He eased his gaze over the boy, top to bottom, then back from the bottom to the top. Peter stood his ground with a youthful foolishness that came from lack of good sense. He never imagined that Duncan had martial arts training and could snap his neck in an instant. Self-defense training was a requirement for forensic investigators operating in the field. On top of that, his parents made him study Taekwondo in America, as a way to keep bullies at bay. It was quite the sight, back then, to see chubby Duncan belted into his white dobok. He turned and slowly pushed the iron grate open. As he walked to his car he heard the ancient, wooden door slam shut behind him.

  Once behind the wheel, he tried to calm down. He had actually hoped Peter would try something. He didn't want to peel out of the car park, pea gravel flying! So, he drove slowly back to Taye, not noticing the natural beauty all around him, but feeling the crick in his neck and his stiff back again. He went straight to the Blue Bell and up to his room. He didn't stop to speak to Donald or anyone in the pub.

  He spent the afternoon stewing on what had happened. Once again, he felt ashamed of his actions. Normally, he would never speak to a woman like that. He realized that his secretary, Angela, probably hoped to participate in this field investigation. She had done some research on the claim and he remembered her hinting around that she'd like to get out of the office more often. Angela must have been planning to ask him for this opportunity, but he had unknowingly shut her down at some point. Angela was more than proficient at her job. He was surprised that her work on Caroline Menzies' file seemed sub par. Duncan briefly thought about the people that worked for him. He took a lot of pride in his staff and a genuine interest in their well being.

  He opened the folder that contained Caroline's information. Duncan poured over every word. How was it possible that she didn't know about the insurance policy, when she had had a physical? A five million pound policy required a physical. A physician described her health as good, four years ago. He did the math, she was thirty years old now. Why would Stuart need a policy like that on her? It made no sense. The guy was strapped for money, and while she was young, those premiums were still costly. Also, what irreplaceable service did Caroline supply to the estate that warranted such a large policy? He jotted his notes down on the pad of paper he kept handy.