The Complete Kate Benedict Cozy British Mysteries

by Carrie Bedford

  “But how do we know what to look for?” She pointed at a huge man with legs the size of tree trunks. A pale scar ran down his cheek. “He looks like a killer, but he probably isn’t.”

  “No, it’s usually the quiet ones; the ones you don’t suspect,” I agreed. “We’ll just have to do our best. Josh will stay at Fergus’s side all night.”

  “Duncan can help when he gets here,” Lucy said.

  I wasn’t convinced that Duncan would help at all. It bothered Josh that I thought of Duncan as a suspect, but he had a motive, and, so far, I’d been unimpressed with his personal characteristics. His reaction to the sale had exposed a basic lack of sensitivity, and his almost permanent bad humor was enervating. And then there was that surreptitious search in the library. He was up to something, for sure.

  “How did you and Duncan meet?” I asked Lucy.

  She blushed. “At a bar in the City. A friend introduced us. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just curious. He’s rather intense, isn’t he?”

  She laughed. “That’s an understatement. But he’s fun and interesting. Never a dull moment, as they say.”

  “He’s not very happy with the proposed sale of the castle, I gather.”

  Lucy held her hand over her glass as a waiter offered to top it up. “I don’t blame him,” she said. “He’s always talked about the castle as his family home and of course he assumed he’d inherit it one day. He was ranting yesterday about finding some legal loophole that would stop Fergus from selling. But I doubt there is one. Besides he’ll get over it. There’s more than enough to keep him busy in London.”

  I thought about his odd behavior in the library. Perhaps he was searching for something that would provide him with a reason to halt the sale. I couldn’t imagine what it might be. “Is he looking for something?” I asked. “I saw him going through the shelves in the library. Perhaps a book? Or a document that might affect the purchase of the estate?”

  Lucy raised her glass and took a big swallow of wine. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything to me.”

  We were interrupted just then by a blast from a trumpet. Fergus picked up a knife and clinked it against his glass until the room fell silent. He gave a short speech, thanking everyone for coming, and making no mention of the imminent sale of the estate. Another half dozen speeches followed, as old friends of Fergus recounted stories of past experiences and escapades. It seemed that Fergus had been quite an adventurer in his youth, and a serious academic before he’d retired.

  With the speeches over, the young attendants we’d seen in the entry hall directed us to our seats. I was glad to see that Josh was seated next to Fergus. An empty chair on Fergus’s other side was presumably meant for Duncan, and Lucy’s place was next to it. I sat between Josh and a large, florid-faced man in a green kilt and jacket. His wife and several older couples made up the rest of the head table. Stanton Knox and his team were sitting together. Lachlan sat at their table, and I hoped he’d use the opportunity to argue for his continued employment.

  The bagpiper gave way to the members of the band, who played quiet jazz, obviously saving their energy for later. Fergus had told us they were famous for their traditional Celtic music, and would have everyone on the dance floor after dinner. Waiters arrived with the first course.

  The young girl who’d been wielding the vacuum yesterday now carried plates of food to our table. I remembered Mrs. Dunsmore mentioning that her name was Fiona. She smiled when she saw me. “Hello, miss. Lovely evening, isn’t it?” She sighed with a wistfulness worthy of Cinderella wishing she could attend the ball. Pretty and vivacious, she quickly attracted the attentions of the man in the green jacket. After subtly extricating her arm out from under his meaty hand, she told us that the salmon had been caught and cured locally in Inverawe. It looked delicious. Translucent slices of the smoked fish were artfully arranged on our plates, decorated with lemons and sprigs of sorrel. I noticed that Pierre’s earnest French friend was serving the table next to us. He described the food in almost perfect English, but the smile on his face looked a bit false.

  I saw Josh looking over at me. He nodded towards Duncan’s empty chair, one eyebrow raised. I was too far away from Lucy to ask her what she thought Duncan was doing, but she appeared unconcerned, engaged in conversation with the woman next to her. We’d just picked up our knives and forks when I heard footsteps and glanced up to see Duncan arrive. No kilt for him, but he did look handsome in his dinner jacket and bow tie.

  Less attractive, however, was the aura that swirled over his dark hair.

  Duncan with an aura? I felt the room tilt and dropped my fork with a resounding clang. Gripping the sides of my chair until the floor came to level again, I stared at Duncan to be sure I wasn’t imagining it. But it was clearly there and moving fast.

  Two auras? That wasn’t good. Our theory that Fergus might have a medical issue dissolved like tissue paper in the rain. Something dreadful had to happen for two men to die at once.

  13

  I pushed my smoked salmon around on my plate, unable to take a bite, however appetizing it looked. Josh noticed and leaned over. “What’s wrong?”

  “Duncan has an aura.”

  Josh carefully laid down his fork. “Are you sure? Never mind, I know you are.”

  Watching Duncan cross the Hall, I wondered what could have happened to change his status from safe to endangered so quickly. I was positive that, when I’d last seen him, he had no aura. His cheeks were red as though he’d been running. When he took his seat next to Lucy, I noticed a mark on the lapel of his jacket; it glistened in the candlelight. Following my look, he glanced down and brushed at the offending spot. Not a stain, I realized, but a thread of spider’s web, which stuck to his finger when he pulled it off his jacket. The castle was old, and there were many places where spiders could lurk, but my thoughts rushed to the east wing and the large webs I’d seen there. Had Duncan been poking around the abandoned rooms as well? Did he know Lucy had been there already? For him to be exploring the east wing now, with the party underway, was decidedly odd, unless he was merely taking advantage of the crowds to disappear for a while. Or had something happened to provoke him into an urgent investigation? Clearly, he was prepared to take a risk for whatever it was.

  “What do you suppose it means?” Josh whispered as a waiter refilled his wine glass.

  “Nothing good. Maybe that someone here tonight means harm to both Duncan and Fergus.”

  But why Duncan suddenly? He’d been fine up to this point. We both gazed around the tables filled with Fergus’s guests. As Lucy had pointed out earlier, it was impossible to identify any possible assassins in the crowd. There were nearly sixty people in the room and any one of them could be the culprit. But it seemed highly unlikely that someone planned to pull out a gun and start firing. We were in Scotland after all. I knew knives could do a lot of damage, but it was hard to imagine one of these guests running amok with one.

  The staff appeared to clear away the old plates and, shortly afterwards, Fiona set down our main course of venison and wild mushrooms, making sure to give the florid-faced man a wide berth. The food kept coming, and I picked at my plate enough to be polite and inconspicuous, but my stomach churned as I ran through possible scenarios. At one point, I asked Josh quietly if we should tell Fergus about the auras. “Maybe we should warn him. At least, he’ll know to be on guard.”

  Josh shook his head. “It’s too late now. We can’t explain it properly here, and I doubt we can get him to leave the Hall and all his guests. I’ll stay very close to him. You keep an eye on Duncan. And if we need reinforcements, use that phone over there.” He pointed to a polished side table bearing a black phone. “We can call the police any time.”

  While I wasn’t happy with any of it, I couldn’t work out what else to do, short of barricading Fergus in his bedroom. As the feast wound down, the band warmed up, and the guests gravitated towards the dance floor at the other end of the Hall. Josh clu
ng like a limpet to Fergus, and I stayed with Duncan, who didn’t even notice my presence. A group of the younger guests gathered around him, listening to his stories of high finance in the capital. He seemed to be enjoying his moment in the spotlight; the dashing young heir from the City.

  Although she’d promised to help me, Lucy had wandered off, and I caught sight of her talking to Stanton Knox in a corner. When she noticed me looking in her direction, she waved her glass at me and smiled. Knox was probably better company than Duncan.

  The evening dragged on. The band played boisterous highland flings, and guests filled the dance floor. On any other occasion, I’d have joined in the dancing. Now, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. All the time, I scanned the huge Hall, looking for any hint of something unusual, anyone who was behaving oddly. As the wine and champagne flowed, the decibel level rose. Every shout made my nerves jangle, and a slammed door made the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. I kept forgetting to breathe, and my chest was tight with anxiety.

  Duncan was drinking too much. His face was red, and he talked more and more loudly, but his coterie kept pace with him, all of them raising their voices to be heard. A young woman hung on his arm, and he appeared quite content to have her there. I wondered if I could persuade him to stop drinking, but he hardly even seemed aware I was standing close to him.

  “We need more champagne,” he said to his group of companions. “I know where the good stuff is. I’ll be back.”

  I put my hand on his sleeve. “One of the waiters will bring it up,” I said. “Stay here. I’ll send someone.”

  He shook my hand off his arm. “Quicker to go myself. Although you could make yourself useful and help me carry it up.”

  Catching Josh’s eye, I signaled that I was going with Duncan. He was standing with Fergus, talking with a group of kilt-clad men. When he nodded his acknowledgement, I followed Duncan as he weaved his way towards the kitchens.

  “The Dom Pérignon is in the meat locker,” he explained as we clattered down the back stairs to a kitchen full of people washing plates and drying pans, putting knives and tools away in drawers. Pierre was over by the sink, talking to his friend, the other Frenchman. The young chef looked surprised when he saw me, but gave a friendly wave and returned to his conversation.

  Duncan collected six bottles of Dom Pérignon from the meat locker and gave me two of them. As he gripped two in each hand, he leaned his weight against the heavy steel door to close it, and a bottle slipped through his fingers. I was flinching in anticipation of the impending crash when a passing waiter thrust out his hand and grabbed it just before it shattered on the flagstone floor.

  “Good catch,” Duncan said, taking the bottle back. The waiter nodded. For a few seconds, he stood still, staring at Duncan, his dark eyes narrowed, his mouth turned down in contempt. When he turned away, I watched him go and wondered if he was a potential threat or if he was simply expressing disdain for a drunken rich guy from the City. Most likely the latter, but I thought I should check him out.

  “Give me a minute,” I said, but Duncan didn’t seem to hear me, his gaze fixed on Fiona, the young Cinderella, who was chatting with another girl while they sorted cutlery on the butcher block counter. I walked over to Pierre. He and his companion were deep in conversation, talking French, so I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I guessed they weren’t chatting about the weather or the food. There was an urgency, it seemed, an intensity in the way the other Frenchman gestured. They fell silent when I approached.

  “Mademoiselle Kate!” Pierre gave me a little bow. “How nice to see you. Did you enjoy the dinner?”

  “Yes, very much,” I lied. The food had been superb, but I’d barely touched it. “I was wondering who that man is? He saved a bottle of expensive champagne.” I turned to point out the waiter who’d averted the broken bottle disaster but there was no sign of him. Pierre raised his eyebrows.

  “Never mind,” I shrugged. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “Not at all. The party is going very well, non?”

  “The party is perfect,” I agreed. Aware of the two cold champagne bottles chilling my skin and dampening my dress, I said goodnight and walked over to join Duncan, who was now chatting up Fiona. Her dark curls bounced, and her cheeks glowed pink as she laughed at a joke he’d shared with her. Waiting for the little chat to be over, I leaned up against a counter, thinking we should just stay downstairs. The kitchen was smaller and easier to monitor than the Great Hall, but Duncan was ready to return to the party. I heard him say ‘see you later’ to Fiona, and then he jerked his head at me, which I took as an instruction to follow him. He set off, threading his way through the kitchen workers to reach the stairs.

  The journey back took a while because Duncan walked with a particularly slow and steady gait meant to hide the fact that he was seriously drunk. A few people had congregated in the entry hall, where it was much cooler than upstairs. They sat on the oak bench or leaned against the walls, watched over by the bright glassy eyes of the mounted deer heads. Through the open front door, I saw a couple smoking on the front steps, giggling under a light drizzle. It all felt so safe. A joyful celebration of a birthday, the great house welcoming dozens of guests. My mind couldn’t conjure a scene in which two men might die, but I had to stay alert. The fact remained that Duncan and Fergus were in imminent danger.

  Duncan and I made stately, if somewhat wobbly, progress up the wide stairway. The hum of conversation in the entry hall receded, replaced by the strains of Celtic music, the beating of feet on the dance floor and loud laughter. I picked up the pace, hoping Duncan would follow suit. He lagged behind, though, and I slowed again. For a moment, I considered pulling him aside, telling him about the aura, and warning him to be careful. But it would be a pointless exercise. He’d hardly talked to me all evening, and even now, barely acknowledged my presence.

  We finally regained the crowded warmth of the Hall, and Duncan dove through the melée to deposit his bottles on the bar. He turned to take my two. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Want a glass?”

  I shook my head. Staying next to him, I surveyed the room. Lucy was still talking with Knox, and she didn’t seem to have noticed that Duncan had been missing for a while. Josh was with Fergus, chatting with several older couples. A half-dozen women had clustered around the fireplace, their tinkling laughs matching the chiming of glasses. Dancers thronged the floor, executing complicated moves accompanied by a lot of whooping.

  It all seemed so normal that it was hard to imagine an assassin lurking amongst us. Perhaps I was wrong about there being a killer. Maybe something catastrophic was going to happen— a falling chandelier, a fire, a virulent case of food poisoning. But there were no other auras, not even over the heads of the most frail-looking guests. I didn’t know what lay in their future, but it seemed death wasn’t yet stalking them. So, a disaster that only killed Fergus and Duncan and spared everyone else? It was unlikely. I was sure they were both targets of a specific threat.

  Lucy left Knox and made her way over to me. “Where were you?” she asked. I explained about the champagne run and gestured towards Duncan, who was filling champagne flutes.

  “What’s Knox like?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Smart, obviously, egotistical— you’d think he’d personally invented the Internet, the way he talks about it, but he’s nice enough.”

  “Did you talk about the sale? Is he going to close the deal with Fergus? No risk of him dropping out?”

  She nodded. “Oh, he wants the purchase to go through. He was very enthusiastic, and said that he loves Scotland.” She gazed around the room for a moment. “What’s not to like? The castle is incredible.” She fanned herself with her hand. “It’s so hot in here. I need a bit of fresh air. You’ll be okay watching Fergus?”

  “There’s something else…” I began, but Lucy was already walking away. I knew I should tell her about Duncan, but it was always hard to break that sort of news.
Still, I thought she’d want to help, and I’d need her to watch out for him once the party was over. “Lucy,” I called, and she turned back with a sigh. “I need to talk to you.” I took her arm and led her away from the door towards a quiet corner. There was no point in prevaricating. “Duncan has an aura.”

  Her cheeks lost their pink glow, and her blue eyes widened. “That’s a joke, right?”

  “No. The aura only appeared this evening. I don’t understand why. It means something has changed, that there is a threat to him now which wasn’t there before.”

  “So, what now?”

  “I need your help in protecting him.”

  “And how do we achieve that exactly?”

  “The same way we’re looking out for Fergus.”

  “It’s impossible.” She sounded almost panicked. “Think of all the ways someone could die, here, right under our noses. The only way to protect Fergus is to roll him in bubble wrap and lock him in his room with no food, where no one can get at him, he can’t fall over and break his neck, and he can’t choke on a piece of bread.”

  “When you put it like that…”

  She put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I’ll do what I can to help.” She turned to look at Duncan. “You’re sure about the aura thing? He seems so… robust.”

  “I’m sure. Are you all right?” Lucy looked pale, which wasn’t surprising after what I’d just told her. “Go get some fresh air,” I said. “We can talk later.”

  I watched her go before hurrying to rejoin Duncan and the circle of young people gathered around him, where I loitered on the edges like a planet thrown out of its orbit.

  When the grandfather clock against the wall struck midnight, there was a general movement towards the doors, as though the driveway would soon be filled with pumpkins and mice. The younger crowd lingered a little longer, but soon the band began packing up their instruments and the wait staff swept through the room like a swarm of locusts, gathering up every glass, plate and bottle. Josh and I collected Duncan and the three of us accompanied Fergus down to the front hall, where we found Lucy sitting on the bench with her sandals off. We gathered on the steps to say goodnight to each of the departing guests until finally the last of them had gone, whisked away in several minibuses that Fergus had hired to make sure no one drove home under the influence. Mrs. Dunsmore closed the door, bolting the lock and sliding the heavy bar into place. I was glad to see the door secured.