Beneath the Abbey Wall
Page 31
And the matter of Neil Stewart would never be mentioned again.
EPILOGUE
Ten days after Christmas, a parcel arrived, addressed to Misses Annie and Jean Ross. The Canadian stamps were as fascinating to the girls as the content of the box: books, Canadian Mountie badges, and child-size beaver skin hats with earflaps.
For Joanne there was a gold chain with a gold maple leaf charm. There was no letter, just a postcard of the Rocky Mountains and one word—Sorry.
She did not reply and burned the parcel wrapping with the return address.
* * *
Almost six weeks had passed since Don McLeod returned to work, and Fiona felt the difference; the phone rang more, she had more classified advertising to type up, and it was brighter and lighter and easier working at the Gazette. Even Mrs. Buchanan seemed cheerful.
Fiona would never tell, but she knew Betsy had made at least two very expensive long-distance calls to Australia. Betsy had also told her she had good news and would be leaving the Gazette but not to say anything to anyone, especially not her mother.
I’m grown up now, Fiona had almost told Betsy. I don’t tell my mother everything.
The phone rang.
Fiona answered, “Highland Gazette, how may I help you?” in exactly the tone and phrase their teacher had taught them at the Technical High School.
“My name is Mrs. Wilkie. Neil Stewart was my lodger. I want to . . . ”
“Mr. Stewart is not longer with the Gazette. He . . . ”
“I know that, you silly girl. I’m phoning about something he left behind.”
“Perhaps you should be calling the police station,” Fiona said, trying her best not to be rude, even though the woman had called her silly.
“Och, forget it,” the landlady said, and hung up.
Fiona thought nothing of the call and told no one.
Mrs. Wilkie decided to keep the bicycle. And the handbag. But she threw away the photograph of a baby. All babies look alike when they’re wee, she thought.
* * *
In late February when the first snowdrops were pushing up from the cold, cold earth in bright green shoots, Don McLeod met Angus McLean in the solicitor’s office.
“I have a letter from a solicitor in Canada,” Angus began. “In it is a certified copy of the birth certificate of Ian Donal Mackenzie McLeod.”
Don said nothing, just waited.
“The solicitor informs me that his client, Ian McLeod, also know as Neil Stewart, wishes to claim the house in Ness Walk belonging to his late mother, Joyce McLeod, née Mackenzie, and asks that when the matter is settled, I sell it on his behalf.”
Again not a word from Don.
“The letter also states that no further claim will be made on the estate of the late Mrs. McLeod, and the client, who wishes to retain the name Neil Stewart, will sign a document to that effect.”
There was a pause. Angus looked at Don and waited for a response.
“Nothing else?”
“No. I’m sorry.” Angus felt a surge of compassion. He looked away, not wanting to seem inquisitive.
“See to it.”
Don stood, put on his hat—he was without an overcoat even though the remains of the snowstorm were still lying, and said, “Good day, Mr. McLean. And thank you for dealing with this”—he pointed to the letter—“this matter.”
He walked towards the Gazette. Paused. Glanced down Church Street. Heard the chimes ring out eleven o’clock. They’ll be open, he told himself.
And he walked to the Market Bar.
Highland Gazette
December 1, 1957
A memorial service to give thanks for the life of the late Mrs. Donal McLeod née Mackenzie will be held in Inchnadamph Parish Church, Sutherland, on the 15th of December.
All are welcome.
Highland Gazette
January 26, 1958
Mr. Peter Kowalski is delighted to announce the birth of his son, Andrew. The grandfather, Mr. Gino Corelli, wishes to add his heartfelt thanks to the staff of Raigmore Hospital. Mother and baby are well.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Once again I want to thank Tran Duc and Li Ly of MangoMango, Hoi An, Vietnam. Thank you for the coffee, the table where I write, the wonderful food, and most of all, the love.
To John Spittal of Perthshire, thanks for the company and for showing me your tree.
To Romay Macintyre of Netherton, the Black Isle, thank you for wonderful breakfasts and the room with a view.
To the Mekong writers: Jennifer, Jennifer, Ruth, and Robyn and that inspirational guide to life, happiness, angst, and writing, Jan Cornall—thank you Jan. “Lang may yer lumb reek.”
Sarah Durand, editor sympathique, I really couldn’t have done it without you.
All at Atria Books; Judith Curr, what a wonderful, supportive team you have.
Sheila Drummond, the Drummond Agency, sounding board, no-nonsense friend—any writer would be glad to have you on their side.
Peter McGuigan, Foundry Media, writer of enigmatic emails, a man who knows what he likes, and fights for those he believes in, I salute you, you Green-eyed Bean from Venus.
Hugh, wherever you are, you are always with me.
* * *
I wish to acknowledge all the stolen children—from the Aboriginal nations, from the Traveling people, from single mothers, from those deemed politically or socially different—stolen in the name of “doing good” or worse.
And the mothers—bless them.
The rest of the novel's in A.D. Scott's "ingenious" (Booklist) mystery series are just one click away!
See where it all started in the very first mystery of the riveting Highland Gazette series . . .
A Small Death in the Great Glen
* * *
A stunning and suspenseful story of families, betrayal, and a community divided.
A Double Death on the Black Isle
* * *
The fourth gripping, fast-paced installment of A.D. Scott's series, offering another gorgeously written window into the intrigue and quiet beauty of the 1950s Scottish Highlands.
North Sea Requiem
* * *
An atmospheric and thrilling portrait of extremes: from the wilderness of the Highlands to the desolation of Glasgow’s slums; between the rule of law and the laws of the streets; between safe, enduring love and unreasoning passion.
The Low Road
* * *
Return to the grandeur of the Highlands in the next evocative, suspenseful mystery following beloved Highland Gazette heroine Joanne Ross.
A Kind of Grief
* * *
ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!
Photo by Etienne Bossot
A. D. SCOTT was born in the Highlands of Scotland and educated at Inverness Royal Academy and the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. She has worked in theater, in magazines, and as a knitwear designer. She currently lives in Vietnam and north of Sydney, Australia.
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Also by A. D. Scott
A Small Death in the Great Glen
A Double Death on the Black Isle
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons
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Copyright © 2012 by A. D. Scott
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First Atria Paperback edition November 2012
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Scott, A. D.
Beneath the abbey wall : a novel / by A. D. Scott.
p. cm.
1. Middle-aged women—Crimes against—Fiction. 2. Newspaper employees—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Secrets—Fiction. 5. Highlands (Scotland)—Fiction. I. Title.
PR9619.4.S35B46 2012
823'.92—dc22
2012030071
ISBN 978-1-4516-6577-2
ISBN 978-1-4516-6578-9 (ebook)