Did he fall from here with the stone? That might be possible, but unlikely. His position was too tidy, directly under the merlon. If he were leaning on the stone and it gave way, he'd probably land apart from it or on it. The only other explanation was that he died another way and someone placed the stone upon him, everything staged to look like an accident. Duncan pushed this conclusion from his mind. He needed to focus on the evidence now. He examined the area for several yards around where he stood, looking for any clues that might remain. He searched for marks in the stone, stains, etcetera, but found nothing.
He took a deep breath and one more look around. He had been on the battlement for some time and it was getting dark. He concentrated so hard on his work that he had not noticed the drop in temperature, or the light waning. Now, he shivered. It was time to go. He placed his tools back in the bag, and his tablet in his briefcase, then ambled to the door with his belongings.
When Duncan tried to open the oak door, it would not budge. He tried pushing against it with his hands to no avail. Then, he used his shoulder to apply pressure, throwing his weight against the wood. It was no use, the door was locked. A wave of disgust hit Duncan. Julia or Peter locked him out here. What did they hope to accomplish? He glanced around to be sure he was alone. He did not want to be ambushed by those delinquents.
He reached for his cell phone, and another wave came over him, a wave of fear. Fear for Caroline. What if they locked him up here so they could harm her? If something happened to Caroline, Stuart's niece and nephew could inherit the estate and life insurance proceeds. This might explain the terrible foreboding he'd felt earlier.
Duncan sensed panic rising from his chest to his head. He tried to get his fingers to punch the correct numbers on his cellular, but they slipped off the wet surface or hit the wrong keys. The drizzle mixed with sleet as he frantically redialed the only number he could remember, that of the Blue Bell Inn. He waited, heart pounding, hoping the call went through.
"This is the Blue Bell, Donald at yer service."
"Donald, Donald, can you hear me?" Duncan yelled into the phone.
"Of course, I can hear ye. Ye're shouting!" Donald answered. "What's the matter?"
"Donald, this is Duncan," he heard Donald say he knew who it was and continued, "I need you to call Castle Taye right now. Make sure you get Caroline on the phone and that she's all right. You got that? Be certain that she's fine!"
"I can do that, but what is happening? What are ye so upset about?" Donald asked, alarmed.
Duncan tried to catch his breath while the innkeeper spoke. He hyperventilated. The rain vacillated between water drops and sleet. The precipitation increased, and the sound of large drops pummeling stone, combined with Duncan's breathing, made it difficult to hear Donald.
Duncan yelled, "I got locked out, up on the battlement. I have reason to believe Caroline might be hurt. If you can't get her on the line, drive out here right away. Expect trouble. If she does answer, come out anyway!" he added as an afterthought.
"Alright," was all Donald said. He hung up on Duncan.
Duncan walked back to the north side of the castle, the direction of town and the spot of the missing merlon, so he could see Donald's car come down the road. He tried to calm himself by taking deep, slow breaths. He concentrated his gaze on the road, hoping it wouldn't take Donald long to get here. Rain poured and dark clouds dominated the sky as far as the eye could see.
He leaned on a merlon next to the empty space in the crenellation. It was late in the day and getting dark. He strained forward in search of any headlights. There was no sign of Donald and he thought he should have arrived by now. The anxiety he felt grew in intensity as each moment passed. As night arrived, the temperature began to drop. The rain turned to sleet and a shiver ran up Duncan's spine.
He patted his hand nervously on part of the battlement and lost track of time. A sense that he was no longer alone began to creep on Duncan. He discerned some stealthy being advancing towards him. Just as the hairs on the back of his neck rose, he spun to face whatever was there.
As Duncan turned a full 180 degrees, he felt a sharp pain on his chest, near the collarbone. A pointed, dark object thrust against his clavicle and he slipped backwards, away from the merlon and towards empty space.
It was true what people said about life flashing before one's eyes in that split second when death approached. Duncan did not see his entire life, nor did he see events in chronological order.
First, he viewed himself earlier in the day, desiring to leave this place. He should have listened to his instincts. Then he glimpsed his brother, Angus, turning the Vauxhall over to him before this trip, and his parents at dinner last Christmas. He saw his flat in London, Cassandra Baines, the model he had dated, and his awards. Duncan observed Caroline floating down the aisle at the kirk in her cream coat. The ancient vicar flashed before him. "He has hedged me in so that I cannot get out…. He has made my chain heavy…. He has blocked my ways with hewn stone." The minister's words seem to compress into a split second and echo within his brain. He witnessed a beating he took in America as a boy, and a small, dark, cloaked figure in front of him now, pushing him over the edge.
-Continue the adventure with The Merlon Murders Book II-
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Part 2
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Victoria Benchley lives with her husband of over twenty years and their two children on the West Coast of the United States. She grew up reading the classics and counts Dickens and the Bronte Sisters as her favorite authors. After a career in corporate America, spanning public accounting, cash management, and real estate investments, at national and international firms, she chose to become a stay-at-home mom and full time taxi cab driver for her children. She is a Christian who enjoys cooking, quilting, travel (including road trips!), as well as reading and writing. Most Sunday afternoons she can be found enjoying an NFL game.
Mystery: The Merlon Murders: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 1) Page 14