by Hannah Reed
“Now why would ye think that?”
“Because I just caught you spying on me? Because he had you publicly relieve me from my position as the new special constable? Because I haven’t heard one word from him since well before that happened?”
The windshield wipers slid slowly across the front windshield. But the snow on the glass was too heavy. Not much cleared away. The wipers groaned and Sean turned them off.
“I don’t know what he thinks I did.” I paused to consider.
“No, no, no,” Sean said. “The inspector has been busy buildin’ a case fer murder, and it has nothin’ tae do with yerself. Ye know how he gets and ye also know he’s prone tae go off and forget about us. And sometimes he remembers us but still keeps us in the dark.”
“That’s true.”
But in the past, he’d always kept me apprised, at least more so than he did Sean. We’d worked together well. Or so I’d thought.
I sat in silence, considering. “You can’t tell me why you’re out here without serious consequences,” I said, “so I’ll have to guess.”
“Aye. Ye can do it,” Sean said with obvious relief.
Okay, then what was going on? Why was Sean sitting in a car out in a snowstorm, watching the lane leading to my cottage, if he didn’t have me under surveillance?
“You were spying on me, but why, if not because the inspector suspects me of something?”
“We better turn up the heat, it’s getting cold in here, if ye catch me drift.” Sean turned up the heat until it roared out of the vents.
Were we really going to play the childish game of Hide the Thimble? Hot, hot, cold.
“You weren’t spying on me?”
“Cold, cold, cold.”
“You’re protecting me?” I guessed next.
“Ye’re gettin’ hot.”
“What on earth are you protecting me from? Janet Dougal is in custody.” I glanced sharply over. “She is in custody, right?”
“Aye, she’s not goin’ anywhere just now.”
“Oh, geez, Sean, just tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t. I’m awfully sorry.”
Again, I considered pepper-spraying him. Or at least threatening to. But I knew that his fear of Jamieson was greater than his fear of anything I could do to him.
“Ye’re gettin’ close.”
I scowled. Sean was protecting me. From what?
“Does it have to do with Henrietta McCloud’s murder?” I asked.
Sean had drawn his mouth into a thin grim line.
“Hot?” I asked. “Cold? Lukewarm?”
“Smokin’ hot.”
I thought back to the attack on me. Janet had a violent past, so it had been easy to blame her for that, too, a reasonable assumption based on all the other facts. “Are you telling me that Janet wasn’t the one who attacked me at the hospital?”
“It’s gettin’ scorchin’ hot in here.”
As if on cue, the engine died.
“Wha’?” Sean exclaimed. He attempted to start it up again without success.
“You’re out of gas, aren’t you?” I said in disbelief.
“It appears that might be the case. We’re out o’ petrol.”
“We? This is hardly my problem.”
“This wouldn’ta happened, I might add, if I had a proper beat car.”
“All cars run out of gas if they aren’t filled,” I pointed out.
“Aye, but the gauge on this old junker isn’t workin’ properly.”
If Jamieson found out about Sean’s latest gaffe . . .
Suddenly I realized that I was in a position of power, and to my growing unease, I wasn’t above using it.
“The inspector might be interested in knowing about this,” I said with some menace in my voice.
“Ye wouldn’t.” His voice had a catch in it.
“What would he do if he found out that you ran out of gas while you were supposed to be ready for an attack on me? Or that I caught you out?”
“I don’t want tae find out what he’d do.”
“Then you need to tell me everything. We are through playing games.”
“Ye aren’t a very nice person.”
Which made me pause for about one split second. “What’s going on? All of it!”
So that was how I found out. If Sean hadn’t run out of gas at that particular moment, I would have remained clueless. Instead I learned that Janet Dougal was in custody, but not for long.
“She’s been detained only,” Sean said with a tone of importance climbing into his voice. “Fer questioning. And the inspector has been authorized fer an extension from the regular twelve hours tae twenty-four. But time is running out, and he isn’t one bit happy.”
I understood the situation. According to the training manual I’d studied to qualify as special constable, Jamieson had twenty-four hours to prove a case against Janet or he had to release her. So the inspector would have to make a decision soon. Charge Janet with the murder of Henrietta McCloud. Or let her go. If he released her, he could charge her at a later date, but he couldn’t detain her again.
“He doesn’t have enough,” I said.
“The inspector is all fer charging her fer the murder, and in my opinion he has enough tae do it. But he has somethin’ he says he has tae follow up on first.”
And that something turned out to involve me.
Apparently, Janet Dougal had a witness to prove that she couldn’t have been the one who attacked me. Janet had admitted to being at the Dougal house right before the murder, and she made a statement that she’d confronted Henrietta.
“But she didn’t try tae wallop ye with a surgical hammer,” Sean said.
I turned this new information over in my mind. It wasn’t likely that there were two violent individuals running around loose—one who drowned Henrietta and one who struck women in the head with hard objects. If I were in the inspector’s shoes, I’d be hesitating, too.
“Who’s her alibi?” I asked.
“Jeannie Morris from the inn. Seems that later in the afternoon the day o’ the incident, Her Highness had decided she wanted tae upgrade her room. Sayin’ it wasn’t her fault she had tae remain in the village and that she needed some o’ the comforts o’ home. She threatened tae go public with information that would deter guests from checkin’ in if she didn’t get the biggest suite.”
“How was she going to do that?”
“She was goin’ tae go tae the pub at a busy hour and say the inn had bedbugs.”
What a piece of work. I wouldn’t be sorry to see her led away in chains.
“So Jeannie had tae help her move tae a different room, and even served her an early supper in her room tae shut her trap. And all that while yerself . . .”
“. . . While I was fending off a surgical hammer.”
“Aye. The inspector was fully ready tae go ahead with charges against Janet until that came tae light. As a precaution, he ordered me tae keep an eye on ye while he goes about firmin’ up evidence against Janet and tryin’ tae figure out this new twist in the plot.” He glanced at me. “As ye writers like tae say.”
Jamieson had been known to send Sean on wild-goose chases before, simply to keep him at a distance. But it wasn’t like him to stick the trainee out in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm. Besides, without this assignment, Sean would have been at Vicki’s house, as far from the inspector as he was at the moment.
Therefore, after careful analysis, I decided that Sean’s assignment to protect me had a ring of truth to it.
The inspector should have confided in me. I could do a much better job of protecting me than Sean could. The stalled-out vehicle and the constable without adequate transportation was a perfect example. If someone had turned in from the main road intent on harming me, what could Sean have d
one about it? Not much. He’d have been too busy trying not to freeze to death.
“That’s why the inspector terminated my position,” I muttered to myself, seeing clearly now; understanding dawned and relief washed over me. “He wanted it done where everybody in town would know about it immediately. Because whoever attacked me is still out there! It was all for show, intended for the attacker, to send a message that I wasn’t a threat any longer.”
“Ye’re spot on. He musta disliked doin’ it tae ye, but it was fer yer own good. And I’m here noo out in a blizzard just in case the message sent wasn’t received.”
“I still don’t know why somebody came after me.”
“Ye aren’t the only one who’s confused. Even the inspector doesn’t have any idea.”
“He’s going to let Janet go today, isn’t he?” I said. The inspector didn’t rely on guesswork and intuition. He was thorough, and this one anomaly had him stumped. I could see why.
“Aye,” Sean said. “Ye threw a wrench in the works, ye did.”
The case was still wide open. I felt adrenaline pumping and a growing desire to get back on the case, one way or another. Good-bye Elliott family genealogy. Hello Henrietta McCloud murder investigation.
It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how desperately I still wanted to stay away from my father’s past. With Janet released, I could shelve my personal issues once again. Forget about my clan affiliation.
“Vicki knows all this, doesn’t she?”
Sean nodded. “Aye. She’s helpin’ watch over ye by stayin’ close by. So she understands why I can’t be with her tonight.”
I opened the car door and said, “Come on. There are gas cans in the barn and I’m pretty sure we’ll find a full one.”
“Nobody needs tae know, then?”
“What happened tonight is between the two of us. Just you and me. But I have one more condition you have to agree to if you want my continuing silence.”
“Ye’re a mean one.” Sean grimaced. “I hate tae ask, but what is that condition?”
“It’s easy. Tell Vicki to back off with the Elliott family quest. She’s been putting me under a lot of pressure. The saga of my father can wait.”
He’d been out of my life for over thirty years. He could stay that way.
As we trudged up the lane headed for the barn, Sean said, “I’ll see what I can do, but Vicki is stubborn.”
“She’ll listen to you.”
“We didn’t get away with our scheme fer long. The inspector was worried ye might catch on.”
“He doesn’t need to know that I did.”
What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. I was tired of everyone thinking they knew what was best for me and making arrangements that affected me without my input. I might not have the credentials any longer, but that wouldn’t stop me from poking around. But I’d have to be careful.
“Once you gas up your car,” I told Sean, pointing out a full can of gas, “drive it up and put it in the barn. Vicki needs you. I think she’s coming down with something. You’re off security duty for the night. Nobody in his right mind would be out during a storm like this anyway.”
I watched Sean walk down the lane, then went back to my cottage, where Snookie was waiting for me.
CHAPTER 25
Early Wednesday morning started out much like the last several days had, with dying cinders in the fireplace bringing chilly air into the cottage, a warm cat dozing beside my pillow, and a winter wonderland scene outside the festively decorated windows. I rose to my regular routine, noting that the paths hadn’t been shoveled yet. Nor had the driveway leading to the lane. This storm had outperformed even John’s ability to keep up with it.
I’d be housebound, or rather farmbound, for at least part of the day.
Leith Cameron called to ask how I was faring.
“Middlin’,” he said about his own situation once I assured him that I was in fine shape. “I dislike bein’ shut in.”
Not surprising coming from this outdoorsy man. Whether fishing or raising fields of barley for the distillery, Leith usually could be found somewhere in the great outdoors. “I’m going tae have tae get a snowmobile if this keeps up. I don’t remember ever havin’ so much snow this early in December.”
“Vicki said the same thing.” Everything in the Highlands had seemed to be an anomaly since my arrival.
“How are ye coping with civilian life?” he asked next.
“I’m frustrated.”
“I fer one am relieved,” Leith said. “It was a dangerous way o’ life. A perfect example is what happened tae ye while on guard duty at hospital.”
“So you heard about that incident.”
“Incident! Ha. Ye can’t downplay it with me. Somebody wanted tae stop ye and was willing tae go tae extreme measures tae do so. Now that ye’re out o’ that job, we’ll all breathe easier.”
After a few more minutes of conversation, we hung up and I paused to consider why the attacker wanted to stop me. From doing what? That was the million-dollar question. I wasn’t sure whether to be encouraged that I must be on the right track or afraid. One thing I was absolutely certain of was that I’d be much more careful in the future.
I bundled up, went outside, and made my way through the dark to the main house. Lights were on and Sean was in the kitchen.
“Vicki’s still in bed,” he told me. “She’s down fer the count.”
Coco and Pepper bounded from the back of the house and warmly greeted me. “I’ll let the dogs out, then.”
The Westies were overwhelmed by the depth of the snow and had to stay inside my footprints. We went to the barn. I turned on lights, and fed and played with Jasper. Again I entreated him. “Please come and stay with me,” I said to the stubborn feline. “At least for a day or two. Take a mini-vacation.”
Jasper had grown an incredibly thick undercoat and looked more like a miniature bear than a tomcat. As though he understood the request and wanted me to know that he rejected my overtures, he bounded up the barn steps and settled comfortably overhead.
“Suit yourself,” I told him. “Come on, you two.”
When I let Coco and Pepper back inside the house, Sean wasn’t in the kitchen any longer. I knew he’d take care of all Vicki’s needs. She was in good hands.
Back inside the cottage, I puttered in the kitchen, then decided to see if I had an Internet connection. Maybe Ami had sent an e-mail since last I’d checked, something casual, since she might not be aware that I was angry with her for interfering in my personal life. Behind my back, at that! Talking about me with Vicki. Plotting, scheming, manipulating. There was that word again. “Manipulating.” It was one of my least favorite traits in others, yet everyone around me seemed to be indulging in it.
I wasn’t able to establish a connection. Not surprising with all the snow and cloud cover.
Outside, John had arrived and was plowing the lane. Soon the path to the cottage would also be clear. But what of the roads? They had to be passable or John wouldn’t have made it out here. But how passable was debatable. With my level of expertise on the winding narrow Highland roads, plus driving on the opposite side, I probably shouldn’t risk driving until later when the gritters had another go. Where did I need to go anyway?
Settling into my favorite chair near the fire, with Snookie spread across my lap as usual, I spent a long time staring into the fire, thinking about what I’d learned from Sean. If we assumed that the attack on me at the hospital had to be connected to Henrietta’s murder and the investigation, we were almost back to square one. Janet Dougal had a lot of potential, but the alibi she’d established for the attack was problematic for those trying to build a solid case against her.
Katie Taylor had been attacked right after the murder. What did she have to do with anything? Maybe nothing. Maybe the attack on her at her friend’s h
ouse was an amazing coincidence. Or not.
What did Henrietta have in common with Katie? A hometown. Tainwick. Not much there. What did Henrietta have in common with me? Or more precisely—what did her murder have to do with me? I was part of the investigation team. But so were the inspector and Sean.
Any possible threads broke down when I reviewed the three of us together—Katie, Henrietta, me. I couldn’t see a link, other than the tasting that Henrietta had organized but hadn’t attended.
I called Bridie at the first sign of daylight. “Did you survive the snowstorm without any outages?” I asked when she answered.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it? Easy fer me tae say, I can watch all day from inside. We’re Scots. This is only a bit o’ an inconvenience. Most o’ the workers are at the distillery already, includin’ Gordon and Archie.”
“I’m snowed in for the time being,” I told her.
“Then it’s a time tae do some o’ that writing, eh.”
While we chatted, I idly withdrew the Elliott clan sketch from between the pages of Snookie’s health records and glanced again at the inscription on the folded sheet. “Princess Hen.”
“It’s a fine day for getting some writing done,” I agreed, meaning it. If I had to be snowed in, that was exactly what I should be doing. “Bridie, about that sketch of the Elliott crest and motto . . .”
“I still want tae see it, and I’ve been rackin’ my brain about it since we talked. I don’t remember anythin’ like that being in my possession. But seein’ it might jog this old goat’s memory.”
I laughed. “I’ll try to get out later today. Would that be all right?”
“Aye, fer tea then. Three-ish.”
“I’ll be there.”
“But ye also have more tae do than comin’ round here tae entertain the likes o’ me. Ye need tae go tae Applefary and soon.”
Vicki and Bridie have one-track minds.
“Would ye like me tae come along?” she offered, and I heard hope in her voice. “We could make a day o’ it, go round tae some o’ yer cousins; no matter how distant, they’ll welcome ye, they will.”
“I don’t know,” I said, stalling. “The murder case is top priority.”