"Sorry, Duncan. Did you eat supper at least?"
"No, but I'm not hungry. I do feel like I could sleep for days, though."
Chapter 14
Subtle Changes
He spent the rest of the week wrapping up his report for L and G and working closely, via the telephone, with John Wallace. The chief inspector stood as a go-between for Duncan and law enforcement responsible for the Peter Menzies case.
Returning from tea late one afternoon, he thought he caught a glimpse of Clarence's spy, the cleaning lady, entering his building. After checking his own office, he climbed the steps to the second floor, but she was nowhere in sight. He interrupted Helen, who shooed him away. She had a client in her office. He looked around the next level, intruding on his neighbor, the barrister-at-law, who claimed he'd never so much as seen the janitor once. The chap seemed happy for the company and chatted for some time. The financial advisor whose office joined the barrister's had already left for the day.
He assumed the girl he'd seen was Dr. Brightly's patient, but just to be sure, he followed up with the police, who told him Begbie's spy had been arrested and consequently sacked, her keys confiscated by the landlord. Even though the goose chase took up some time, at least he'd met another tenant in the building.
"I'm going to London on Monday."
"You are?" Duncan glanced from the A9 motorway to Angela's face, trying to read her expression.
"Uh huh," she said, admiring the strath to her right.
Because of the glorious spring day, the two had decided on the spur of the moment to spend their Saturday in Taye. Michael Trotter would meet them at the cottage with material samples and a plan to refurbish the house. He had to admit, Angela working her magic with the contractor made his life much simpler.
"Well?" he asked, wanting to hear the rest of it.
"I'll meet with Hadley on Tuesday."
"And?"
"And I haven't decided yet what I'll tell him. I really wanted that promotion, Duncan, and Doctor Brightly says it's important for someone like me to stand on my own two feet, but Sunny's passing made me realize life is short. I'm still confused about everything."
Duncan pulled onto the A827, checking his mirrors. For such a lovely spring day, few cars were out and about. He wondered what someone like me meant.
"If you work at Dewar and Associates, I'll make you a full investigator."
Angela laughed out loud.
"Of course. I planned to negotiate as much, if not more."
"That's my lass," he said, patting her thigh.
When they passed the Blue Bell, they spied Donald perched precariously on a ladder in front of the inn. The older man tinkered with a lantern.
"Should he be up there with his bad knees?" Angela asked.
Duncan shook his head and make a quick U-turn into the car park, rolling down his window.
"Say, do you need help with that?" he called to his friend.
The innkeeper turned his head and said, "Nae, Laddie. The lamp's needing a new bulb. Dae ye ken?" before attempting to reach the lighting fixture again.
By now, Duncan had left the car and reached the stepladder.
"Come on down from there and let me have a go. I'm taller than you are, Donald."
The man nodded and passed him the new bulb, then he descended, huffing and puffing. Duncan made sure the older man made it off the steps safely, then added, "Don't you have someone who can do these things for you? You really shouldn't be climbing a ladder with those knees."
"Dinnae fash yersel. I dinnae want to trouble ye, Lad. Are ye late fir yer meeting with Trotter?"
News travels fast in Taye.
"I've got time to help you," he said, reaching for the lantern. "Where's that bellhop, anyway? He ought to be doing this."
"He's got the day off. Careful with the twist. It's a little tricky and those lights are hard to come by. Dae ye ken?"
Duncan switched the bulbs and scrambled down with ease.
"Get someone else to do these tasks in the future, all right?"
"Will ye stop in later?" Donald asked, his voice weak and trembling.
"Yes, we'll be by for dinner, if you've got room for us."
Donald smiled and slapped him on the back. "Anything fir ye, Lad, anything!"
The innkeeper kept the smile plastered on his face until well inside, then he collapsed in a chair near the bar. Skye, who'd been watching the exchange from a window, approached her dad, wagging her head.
"Was it worth it?"
"I'm tuckered and me legs, back, and arms ache, but I think it worked. If he'd come by on time, I'd not have had to hang there like that. I'm going to give that Trotter lad a piece o' me mind!"
Skye laughed.
"I'm not sure pretending the inn can't function without him is the way to win Duncan over, Dad."
"Wheesht! I know what I'm aboot, Lass. Oan yer trolley," he said, pointing to the lobby, insinuating she should move on and man the front desk.
Duncan continued to the outskirts of Taye and eased the Jaguar up the drive, admiring the cottage. He could hear pea gravel crushing beneath his tires and drove carefully to ensure none flew up to damage the glossy red paint on his car.
"You don't think he'll overcharge us because of the Jaguar, do you?"
Angela looked up from her cellular and gasped.
"It's changed so since I last came. Look at the cherry blossoms! And those bright pink flowers! What are those?"
Sure enough, to the side of the house, a small cherry tree showed off its soft pink raiment in stunning fashion. On the ground, other pastel colors mingled with bright purples and yellows, creating a stunning effect. While most plants looked in need of a good prune, irises and short stemmed daffodils flourished in patches throughout the garden.
"That's flowering currant. It produces dark berries later. Those white blossoms are blackthorn," he said, pointing to a snowy petalled plant, "and that mass of purple over there near the Scotch Pines looks like a hellebore that's still in bloom."
Angela jumped from the automobile to get a closer look at nature's delicate beauty. Drawn to the dainty stalks laden with tiny bell-shaped, salmon-pink flowers, she leaned down to determine if the flowering currant had a pleasant odor.
"I'm surprised we even have a garden since the place has been abandoned for so long," she said, shaking her head. The bloom had no scent.
"True. I guess some plants just come up year after year. Also, that easterly wind we've been getting finally shifted. Maybe that's why these tubular beauties are out. They'll grow leaves soon enough."
"I heard a man on the telly last week calling it a Siberian wind. He claimed it was a regular thing this time of year back in the nineteen sixties. Roars out of the east, turning everything Baltic."
Duncan draped his arm over Angela's shoulder, giving her a squeeze.
"What do you think of the place now, seeing it on such a pleasing day?"
"It's lovely. The flowers make such a difference."
Her eyes trailed over the building, admiring all the details she'd missed before. The sun reflected moisture on the roof's unique slate tiles, almost giving the cottage a halo. The carved finial atop the entry's pointed roof and the creamy tan stone blocks staggered around the windows and corners added a stately air to the small house, while brick-a-brack hanging from the two dormers and eaves lent a homey charm. The builder had used local multi-colored rock and blue freestone in construction, and the overall effect left Angela with the impression of a cheerful home in spite of its cool grey color.
He held the door open, observing the smile on his lass's face, and he sighed with relief. She'd never been too keen on the place, but the day's full sun made the interior far more welcoming than he'd seen before.
"Ah'm in here," a deep voice rumbled from the kitchen once the front door clicked closed.
The men shook hands while Angela, drawn like a moth to a flame, headed straight for the materials Trotter had laid out along the counters. Di
stracted by her options, it didn't occur that she might be needed to smooth out awkwardness between the two men. As it was, the success of her cracker bars was such that the carpenter allowed bygones to be bygones, to Duncan's relief. A broad smile from his neighbor eased his apprehension.
"These are gorgeous!" she exclaimed, an excited grin spreading across her face. "Come see, Duncan!"
Before he could get a good look at anything, Michael Trotter was explaining what could be done to the house, moving from room to room with Angela glued to his side.
"We can raise the ceilings in the kitchen and parlor, doing away with the first floor. In my opinion, the overall effect will be worth the lost space."
Angela nodded in agreement, catching his vision for the cottage.
"Wait, do we really want to do away with any rooms upstairs? I mean, eventually, the place will need to sleep more than two," Duncan chimed in, the dimples in his cheeks sinking deep into his face, creating a knowing smile.
"Ye'll still have an area big enough fir two wee bedrooms and a bath upstairs."
"Wonderful!" She nodded at Duncan as if everyone were in agreement.
"Ah'd like to keep the stairs roostic, but of course we'll shore them up. A specialist will have to swatch the chimneys, to be sure they're usable. If there's cracks in the flues, we'll have to make some tough choices."
"I definitely want to keep the fireplaces," Angela said, her tone definitive.
"Now, Ah believe this room would make a spacious walk-in closet for the adjoining bedroom."
"Brilliant idea!"
"Ooooh, no! This is my study," Duncan said, suddenly snapped from his complacency.
"In that case," Trotter said without missing a beat, "we can knock this wall oot here" —he pointed to a spot on the plaster— "and extend the bedroom's chimney into the study. Ye'll have a nice toasty fire to keep yersel warm."
"I love it!" Angela exclaimed.
"Now, Ah'll have to address the windows . . ."
The carpenter's voice trailed away as the other two progressed back towards the kitchen. Duncan stayed in his favorite room, staring out at the wooded view and wondering what all this would cost. His fiancée's calls for him to join them in the kitchen startled him from his thoughts. He found Angela and the carpenter huddled close over the counters and picked up on their conversation.
"You can choose a combination of wood and paint. Ah would place the fridge over here, and enclose it in cabinetry. Ah'd recommend a stone for the countertops and a large sink. Ah think Ah could get an addition approved by the council for a mud room oot back, if Ah'm careful with the materials and can find repurposed slate to match yer roof."
"Yes, we definitely need that. Isn't that right, Duncan? I want a mudroom, and it should be big enough for a washer and dryer, and I'd love another sink and counter in there—for my gardening, you understand," she said, glancing at her betrothed.
"Whatever you want, Darling."
At the moment, he became so pleased at her newfound enthusiasm for the cottage, he really didn't care what it cost or how long the work would take. He signed off on the changes and wrote a sizeable check, payable to Michael Trotter Carpentry, to ensure work would begin as soon as possible. Mike beamed, accepted a set of keys, and said his goodbyes, promising to keep them apprised of his progress.
"Are you sure this is necessary?" he asked as the Jaguar tooled down the road towards the Merriwether house.
"Yes, Duncan. Skye was good enough to unlock the cottage for Michael this morning, and she's gone above and beyond in this respect. You just cannot ignore the issue any longer."
"I'm sure you're correct. It's just that I'm no good at this kind of thing," he said, parking his car in front of the house Donald shared with his daughter.
"She said to just let ourselves in the back," Angela encouraged, leading the way through the garden and slipping through the gate without making a sound. She waved, urging Duncan to follow.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said, just before bracing for impact.
The next thing he knew, something wet and slimy dowsed his face as Angela laughed uncontrollably somewhere in the background. The back of his head hurt and a large weight pressed on his chest.
"Mr. Lincoln, down!"
He heard her yell, and the burden on his torso lifted, then returned.
"No, Mr. Lincoln! No, no!"
The dog dropped off the investigator and turned his affections towards Angela. Duncan gasped for air and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He watched as the lass scratched the animal behind the ears, making a fuss over him.
"That's a good boy, Yes, you are. You're so handsome. Yes, you are!"
The animal had run from the trees and leapt on him with both paws, leaving mud on his shirt. In an effort to step away, he'd knocked his head against the house, creating the pain he felt at the back of his skull. He rubbed his scalp, feeling the bump.
"You're a menace, you know that?" he directed towards the canine, who seemed to enjoy any word from the Scotsman, wagging his tail with even more fervor.
"Be nice. You owe him your life, you know."
"I know. I just don't know why he has to assault me every time he sees me."
"Because he's excited. If he lived with you, he'd settle down in no time," Angela promised, pulling a biscuit from her pocket. "Wanna a goodie? Wanna a goodie? That's a good boy! Sit!"
He watched as she utilized hand gestures identical to those he'd seen Skye use in the past. The beast obeyed, immediately shifting his weight to his back haunches. He kept a bead on her until she offered the treat. Crunching the biscuit between his powerful mandibles, Mr. Lincoln bounced back to Duncan, sat down, and proceeded to train his gaze first at him and then at his fiancée, jerking his head from side to side at regular intervals that coincided with the shift of his eyes.
"Does he expect me to give him something?" he asked, annoyed.
"Just love, Duncan, just love."
He rolled his eyes heavenward in a dramatic fashion, then bent to pet the animal under the chin. Mr. Lincoln lapped his tongue around his wrist before he had a chance to pull away, sliming his arm and hand.
"Remind me never to do that again!" he said, speeding through the village.
"What?"
"Visit that mutt without soap, water, and disinfectant!"
He whipped into the car park, anxious to find a place to wash up after his encounter with the animal.
"Careful what you say to Skye," she called after him as he trotted towards the inn.
Inside, she found Skye behind the bar, but no Duncan. She guessed he'd made his way to the washroom.
"Hello, Angela."
"Hello, Skye. How are you? We've just come from visiting Mr. Lincoln."
"So I gathered by the looks of yer fiancée!"
The girls couldn't control their giggles, but by attempting discretion, they only laughed harder. The barkeep returned, and the innkeeper's daughter slipped around the counter and took a seat next to Angela.
"I enjoyed the outing, anyway."
"Are ye ready to move to Taye then?"
"No, I'm much more of a city girl. I don't think Duncan realizes that about me."
"Aye. Do ye think that's why he never bought his own flat in Edinburgh? Maybe he's waiting to see if ye'll settle here."
"I hadn't thought of that, Skye. I guessed he might return to London, but you could be right."
"Oh, I was sorry to hear about yer friend, Sunny. Is there anything I can do?" she asked, suddenly remembering the bad news.
"No, but thank you. She generously left me in the position of having many options. I'll be making a few changes in my life, but I don't want to rush anything."
"Ye're not talking aboot yer relationship, are ye?"
"Well, things will be diff—"
Before she could finish, a disgusted expression passed across her friend's face and Skye abruptly headed for the kitchen without another word.
Puzzled, she look
ed after her friend, wondering if she'd said something wrong. Then, she heard the inn's door open. She turned her head and saw an attractive man entering the premises. He approached the bar with long strides, smiling.
"Is Skye anywhere aboot?" he asked in a deep tone, looking at the barkeep.
The Blue Bell employee appeared uncomfortable and indecisive. He picked up a glass and began polishing its surface with vigor. Angela gave the newcomer a good once-over while he kept his pleasant gaze trained on the bartender. She could tell he had a brawny frame under his dark green sweater and broad shoulders. His tweed trousers did nothing to obscure his muscular, long legs. He leaned against the counter next to her, and she caught a whiff of his cologne—a wonderful pine scent combined with exotic spice. A sideways glance in his direction, concealed behind the girl's long lashes, revealed sparkling emerald eyes and thick, wavy reddish-brown hair. A lone curl drooped on his forehead in an attractive, boyish manner. One of his brows inched onto his forehead in a questioning arch as he patiently waited for an answer from the barkeep.
"I . . . I hae not seen her," the employee finally answered, looking confused and a tad guilty.
"I'll get her. She's just in the kitchen," she said with a nod in that direction. "I'm Angela Smith, by the way," she added, offering her hand.
The bartender coughed long and hard, shaking his head as he did. She would have thought he'd choked on something except the noises he produced almost sounded like words. She tried to string together whatever syllables came from his mouth, sure he was attempting to make sense or pass a message intended for her ears only.
"I'm Redmond. Redmond Hayes." The man interrupted her attempts to decipher the odd sounds coming from behind the counter.
His voice drew her attention from the barkeep, and her quizzical expression melted into a goofy grin upon making eye contact with the handsome stranger.
"Oh," she muttered.
He angled his shoulders and trained his green gaze upon her, gently squeezing her hand. Angela lost touch with everything else in the room, including her own thoughts and previous offer to retrieve Skye. The man had the most pleasant, charming, disarming way about him. He smiled divinely while his eyes positively glowed with an inner light. She inched closer to get a better look at his dimpled chin. She noticed his sturdy neck and the stubble along his masculine, square jaw. His expression spread into a laugh and she laughed with him.
The Siamese Suicides: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 6) Page 13