by Carly Reid
Margaret Mustard was a force of nature, a woman known for her capabilities and her involvement in almost every sphere of local influence. She acted as a part-time housekeeper for clan chief Gillespie MacNaughton, and Jessica thought that she really considered the kitchen in Castle Drummond to be her own domain. She volunteered on Saturdays for the museum, was very active in the local Women’s Guild and the Church of Scotland, and knew everything that happened in Dalkinchie and further afield sooner than seemed possible. Jessica knew that she would soon hear Margaret’s take on the events of the night before, but for a moment allowed the drifting steam from the tea to soothe and calm her. She closed her eyes and inhaled as Margaret bustled through again to serve the mince pies – which, it turned out, she had warmed through. The scent of cinnamon and candied peel mingled with the spices in the tea – cardamom, Jessica thought, and definitely ginger. She felt deliciously warm all of a sudden.
“There ye go, I hope you enjoy that. It’s my own wee special take on mince pies, I top them wi’ crumble mix, not pastry – see what you think.”
Jessica took a small bite. Melt-in-the-mouth deliciousness. Margaret’s baking never disappointed. She took a sip of tea.
“So, what about that awfy business last night then? I was quite overcome when I heard. After all these years of being Santa!” Margaret took her own big slurp of tea, and then wedged her mug onto the counter beside her, in amongst what looked like a couple of birds’ nests complete with delicate eggs, and a stuffed pine marten. This enabled her to munch into her own mince pie using two hands.
Jessica wasn’t quite sure what the longevity of Bill Johnston’s role as Santa had to do with it, but she was getting used to Margaret’s particular take on events. She agreed.
“It’s terrible. I just can’t believe it, and so close to Christmas. I keep thinking that surely someone must have seen something…he turned up at the pub in his Santa suit.”
Margaret nodded. “Aye, that’s a bit odd. He was a wee bit late getting into the cart last night, I did notice that. He maybe didnae have his coat in all the rush. He must have made quite the entrance, coming in wi’ the beard and the hat ”
Jessica nodded. So Margaret had been there too, and had picked up on the kerfuffle before the procession started.
“Did you see his assistant, Amy, there?”
Margaret paused and frowned, her sandy colored eyebrows knitting together above her bright eyes and rouged cheeks.
“I cannae mind…I wis at the back of the crowd, not near the front. I dinnae think I saw Amy. Was she working on the sound system? Did something happen? I saw Gillespie wis out for a wee while on the platform before he started speaking.”
Jessica wasn’t sure whether she should confide in Margaret or not, but she still had an inkling that Amy had been lying to her and wanted the full story. If anyone knew it, Margaret would.
“I thought I saw Bill Johnston being mean to her. He seemed to speak to her sharply and then she looked upset. I wasn’t close enough to overhear or anything, but I was positive that she was near to tears. However, I just met her in the village and she said it was nothing, that I must have misunderstood.”
Margaret had started nodding halfway through Jessica’s tale, but having just taken another bite of mince pie, she wasn’t able to answer straightaway.
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt. That sounds about right. A proper mean-spirited soul was Bill Johnston, and I don’t care who hears me say that. He’s more like Scrooge than Santa, but he’s always done it – and his father before him – so nobody ever crossed him. Anyway, as for Amy. She’s on a college apprenticeship with him, and I know the lassie, I knew her granny and she is doing fine, has always worked away hard and picked it up as she went. But she makes mistakes sometimes – who doesnae when they are learning – and he never lets her hear the end of it. In fact I did hear–“
Here Margaret broke off, leaned in closer and dropped her voice, perhaps in case there was anyone on the stairs or hiding behind one of the bookshelves that might overhear.
“– I heard he was about to fail her on her final assessment for the college, which would mean she would fail overall, and have to resit a year.”
Margaret drew back, her eyes open, unblinking and fixed on Jessica’s as she did a couple of long, slow nods to further emphasize her point. But she hadn’t finished.
“And you know what that would mean, don’t you?”
Jessica didn’t, but couldn’t help being drawn in by Margaret Mustard’s dramatic telling of events.
“What?”
“Bill Johnston would get another year of paying her a pittance at apprenticeship wages.”
Upon hearing this, Jessica had an inkling of why Amy had lied to her. She kept it to herself, nodding along as Margaret changed the subject to her neighbor’s cat. They both finished their mince pies and tea, before Jessica thanked Margaret and excused herself to go next door to her own office.
The two rooms were even colder than usual if possible. Jessica turned on a small fan heater but it made little different to the chill that crept in through the large windows. She typed up her notes on the previous day as quickly as she could, grateful that the work was straightforward because her thoughts kept returning to the conversations she had just had with Margaret Mustard and with Amy the apprentice. She couldn’t shake the picture of Amy’s upset face of the night before from her mind.
Taken all together, this was the closest thing to a motive for Bill Johnston’s murder she had heard yet.
The Lochside Hydro
“Oh, I wish it could be Christmas every day…” Reenie sang along as she drove, accompanied by the Christmas music playing loudly on the van’s stereo system. She wouldn’t win any prizes for singing, but her voice was loud, confident and held a tune.
Jessica joined in.
“Let the bells ring out for Christmas!”
It was Sunday morning, and Reenie and Jessica were making their way along the winding, country roads towards the Lochside Hydro. As usual, Reenie was driving her old rattly green van and as usual, Jessica wondered whether it would survive much longer. The heating had gone on it now, and Jessica was grateful for her thick coat, soft blanket scarf and the bobble hat she had pulled down right over her ears.
Reenie and her twin sister Bella, Jessica’s mom, had told Jessica that she had spent Christmas in Scotland once before, as a small child. Jessica couldn’t remember that, so was counting this one as her first. Would there be another in the years that followed? To anyone who asked, Jessica described her current situation as a year out – a chance to get some real journalism experience before deciding whether to return and take up her deferred place. As her whereabouts of the following year were looking uncertain, Jessica was viewing this Christmas as a chance to put the last one behind her, as well as possibly the only one she would spend in Dalkinchie. She was spending it with family and friends, people she loved, and she was determined that it would all go perfectly, down to every last detail. Solving a murder mystery was not a part of that, and Jessica had squashed her suspicions of the day before down firmly. Let Murdo and DI Gordon sort it out.
Her aunt interrupted her thoughts.
“It’s not far now. I always remember to look for the turning after I’ve passed the Stables.” Reenie waved to the left, where a large painted sign announced Campbell’s Stables and Livery.
A few minutes later, Reenie drove through a wide, ornate entrance way, with signs pointing towards ‘Reception’, the ‘Speyside Spa’ and ‘Highland Lodges’. Although this was Jessica’s first visit, Reenie had been before, attending a wedding fayre hosted by the hotel. She had described the place as luxurious, and Jessica, looking through the van windows as Reenie expertly parked the vehicle near an entrance at the back of the complex, could see what she meant. The grounds were landscaped with neat shrubberies and clean, well-maintained paving. The walkways were decorated with small, real spruce trees in shiny red pots placed at even intervals along them.
The morning was dry, and Jessica could see that some people were taking advantage of the gardens, strolling amongst the frosted greenery. A tall woman, wearing a padded red coat with a fur hood, long shiny chestnut-colored boots and a snowy white fluffy scarf, walked arm in arm with a slightly shorter woman, who was equally well wrapped up in a navy wool coat and ear muffs over her thick, curly hair.
Reenie got out of the van.
“Let’s make sure we have access to the room first, and know where we’re going before we start unloading.”
Jessica nodded. They made their way towards the entrance, footsteps crunching over the gravel of the parking lot. As they drew close to the door, a man exited. He wasn’t tall, but held himself with a very straight back. He had ruddy cheeks, dark reddish-blond hair and was wearing an expensive-looking checked tweed blazer. A soft, dark green woolen scarf was his only concession to the cold.
“Reenie Maguire? Owner of The Bloom Room?” He tucked the files he was carrying under his left arm so that he could shake Reenie’s hand. “Neil Campbell, Campbell’s Stables. I’m the new Business Association Chair. Nice to meet you properly, I’ve been hoping to catch up with you. I would have popped in yesterday evening, but I’m afraid I was laid up with a bad cold.”
Reenie shook the man’s hand. “Lovely to meet you too, Neil, although I’m in a bit of a hurry –”
“Oh, I won’t keep you long, I was just hoping you could confirm the details of your donation to our charity auction, which we’ll be holding on the same evening as the Business Association Christmas Cheese and Wine.” Neil Campbell was smiling but also unmoving, slightly blocking the entrance way – not entirely accidentally, Jessica felt.
Jessica, knowing her aunt well, could sense her impatience but Reenie replied as pleasantly as she could.
“Yes, of course. I had already said to Malcolm I would donate, when he was Chair. It will be a Christmas centerpiece arrangement, or another arrangement of equivalent value. Would you like me to make up a gift voucher?”
“I would. I will come in and pick it up this week.” Still smiling, Neil Campbell turned to Jessica.
“Jessica Greer, I believe? Do you think the The Drummond and Dalkinchie Herald would be willing to make a donation as well? I was thinking perhaps a photoshoot, or something along those lines.”
Jessica couldn’t help but be a little impressed at the man’s audacity. He might put people’s backs up, but he would certainly make a good Chair.
“Our photographer works freelance, and I’m only a junior reporter, so couldn’t promise anything else. I’ll tell Grant you asked, though.”
Neil Campbell nodded and stepped a little to one side to allow Reenie and Jessica access to the hotel. His expression hadn’t changed. He moved off towards his car – a highly polished gunmetal grey Range Rover with a personalized number plate that read ‘NE17 CAM’. Reenie waited until they were out of earshot before muttering her opinion to Jessica.
“He’s the polar opposite of Malcolm, isn’t he – very flashy! And a bit pushy for me, too.”
Reenie and Jessica carried the flowers through carpeted corridors to the event room where the christening was taking place. Reenie had made up most of the arrangements the day before, leaving only a few last minute touches for this morning. The christening ceremony was taking place in a nearby church, followed by this formal lunch at the Lochside Hydro. Jessica counted ten round tables, each of which was to receive a floral centerpiece. Two larger arrangements were placed on stands near the front of the room, flanking a covered table which would bear the cake.
As they moved in and out of the hotel, carrying the centerpieces carefully one-by-one, the room grew more and more beautiful. Jessica marveled at Reenie’s ability to produce arrangements that perfectly acknowledged the season, while still not being too full-on Christmassy. After placing the final touches to the room, Reenie snapped a quick photograph on her phone. She pocketed it and rubbed her hands together, smiling in pleasure.
“Well, that’s a job well done, I think.”
Jessica gazed at the room.
The color scheme was deep pink, dark green and frosted silver which twinkled under the chandeliers. The proportions of the centerpieces were perfectly balanced across the tables, and their delicate mix of flowers echoed the more elaborate arrangements at the front. It all looked simply magical.
“I’m done now, but I would like one of the events staff just to look in and check it over. Do you mind if we have a look for someone?”
Jessica knew that Reenie would want the events manager to see her handiwork, in the hope that she might be recommended for future work. They decided to have a wander through the hotel, and to treat themselves to a coffee in the hotel bar before heading home. Reenie had invited Grant for Sunday lunch so it would soon be time to get started on that, but there was always time for a coffee.
As luck would have it, Reenie didn’t have to look far. As soon as they rounded the bend in one of the corridors, they saw one of the staff in conversation with another man – a man that Jessica recognized. The shock of gray hair and his hunched gait gave him away as Ian Johnston. Just like the previous occasion, he seemed to be having an altercation. The pair were still a distance away from Reenie and Jessica, and not wanting to intrude or seem to eavesdrop, they awkwardly slowed to a halt. Reenie didn’t want to leave either, and miss her chance to make a good first impression.
The two women couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was obvious from the demeanor of the two men and the hotel worker’s gesticulations that something was off. Ian Johnston waved his arm and stomped off. The hotel worker paused and visibly took a deep breath before moving on, walking in the opposite direction to Ian Johnston and therefore down the corridor towards Reenie and Jessica.
Now smiling, he came forward to greet Reenie. His name badge proclaimed him to be Stuart McKillop, Manager.
“Are you the florist? I’ve been waiting to have a word with you. The Glenmorangie Suite looks spectacular!”
As Reenie chatted to Stuart, Jessica looked around at her surroundings. They were in an open area within the hotel complex, with further corridors leading to rooms and more event spaces, and a sign pointing towards the Lochside Hydro’s various dining venues. Above a small tartan padded chair there was a large framed history of the hotel. Jessica read about its beginnings as a Hydropathic Spa in the Victoria era, part of a number of Scottish hotels who popularized nature and water cures, based on an Edinburgh doctor’s experience of spas in Eastern Europe. She learned that it had housed Polish soldiers during the Second World War, and had been a dry establishment until relatively recently – only beginning to serve alcohol towards the end of the 20th century. Even after six months in Scotland, Jessica was still amazed at the way that every building had history attached, and how much the other people around her took it for granted. She took every opportunity she could to learn more about the country and the cities, towns and buildings within it.
Reenie finished her conversation with Stuart and he moved on down the corridor. Beaming, she turned to Jessica.
“Well, he definitely likes my work! Let’s hope he tells lots of people about my business. I think a little celebration is in order. We’ll go and have that cuppa in the Lochside Bar before we head back home and I need to put the oven on.”
The Lochside Bar was not particularly busy at this hour on a Sunday morning. Reenie found them a cozy little table in the corner, beside a window which overlooked the loch. As her aunt went to the bar to order drinks, Jessica enjoyed the scenery – a wide sweep of lawn, running down to the water’s edge, with groups of trees dotted here and there. Everything was still and blanketed in frost, the perfect winter landscape.
Reenie returned with their coffees. Her own was her standard black coffee, but Jessica had fully embraced the seasonal mood, ordering a latte with gingerbread flavored syrup, topped with whipped cream, sprinkled nuts and the tiniest, cutest little gingerbread elf.
As Reenie and Jessica sat and relaxed, a familiar looking woman entered the bar. Jessica realized that she had seen her walking outside in the grounds when they first arrived. The woman stood at the entrance for a moment, scanning the room, and spotting them at their table, made her way over. She had discarded the red padded coat she had been wearing earlier and now simply wore her skinny jeans with the shiny chestnut boots and a beautiful dark green sweater. As she drew closer, Jessica also spotted the expensive looking sparkling earrings she wore, and a fine gold chain around her neck.
It was obvious she was coming to speak to them, and Reenie greeted the woman as she arrived at their table. She was holding a business card in her hand, turning it over in her fingers as she moved across the room, and Jessica saw Reenie’s own distinctive ‘TBR’ logo on it.
“Hi. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting you. I was just speaking to Stuart, the manager here. He told me that you did the flowers that I saw on the way in.”
Reenie stood up and offered her hand.
The woman shook it and went on, introducing herself. “I’m Samantha Johnston. I’m not from around here any more, although I used to live locally. I am staying in the resort at the moment, and I couldn’t help but notice your beautiful flowers and thought I must come and speak to you – you see, I might be in need of a florist soon.”
As soon as Jessica had heard the woman speak her name, she knew who she must be – and in fact, she now realized, she had seen her before, in the window of Gillespies on the night of the procession. Flowers? She wondered if Samantha Johnston would have to organize the funeral, and the thoughts went through her brain all at once. If she was still Bill Johnston’s next of kin –and as his wife, separated or not, she probably would be – then it the arrangements probably would fall to her.
Jessica hoped that Reenie would make the connection too, but she needn’t have worried. Her aunt was far too professional to make any assumptions about the nature of the event. “Of course. My business, The Bloom Room, has a shop in Dalkinchie High Street. It’s best to talk in person, but if that isn’t convenient for you, then we can speak over the phone, or communicate via email.”