A Wee Murder in My Shop (A ScotShop Mystery)

by Fran Stewart

  “I know,” I said. “You don’t have to belabor the point.” Gilda came back in with Sam in tow—I wondered what had taken the two of them so long to get back here. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  There was nothing we could do while the shop was open. I’d have to get the whole crew in sometime, but it couldn’t be tonight. The surprise party. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know about that. It was just going to be a quiet dinner, right? I might as well play along.

  “I’m having dinner with Drew and Karaline tonight,” I said. “Why don’t we all”—and I swept my hand to indicate everyone—“gather here after dinner—say about nine—to tear down the wall?”

  Gilda and Sam exchanged a quick glance. “Golly, Peggy. I just can’t. Sam was going to, uh . . .”

  “Take her to a movie,” Sam added quickly.

  She frowned at him. It wasn’t a very good excuse. I could have suggested they see the movie another night, but I didn’t want to push it too far. I’d proved I didn’t know about the surprise party.

  Harper scratched the back of his head. “I could stop by, and we could at least get the shelving torn out.”

  “No way!”

  “Not on your life!” Sam sounded belligerent and Gilda sounded panicked.

  “Okay,” I said. “Why don’t we do it tomorrow right after closing? That’ll give us more time.” Heads nodded. “In the meantime, we have a store to get open. Gilda, cash register; Sam, door.”

  They scurried off, and I looked up to see Harper staring at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He chuckled. “Just thinking about how much fun it would have been to tear down those shelves.”

  Was there a hint of some other meaning there? The comment was innocent enough. Before I could reply, Sam stuck his head in the door. “Customer wants to see you.”

  I said a quick good-bye to Harper and let him out the back door, where he muttered, “See you tomorrow night,” and chuckled again.

  I watched him walk all the way to the little courtyard, willing him to look back. Just before he turned to his left, he glanced my way and smiled.

  In something of a daze, I turned to step back into the storeroom but stopped when I saw the long gash in the doorframe.

  A worm of fear crawled up my spine. Dirk, sensing something was wrong, popped up beside me. I wished his feet would make some sort of sound, but I felt comforted to have him near.

  I looked over my shoulder at the empty alleyway.

  “Some ceorlisc feond has tried to break into the door foreby.”

  “Yeah, looks like that. Thank God for the new dead bolt lock.” Thank Harper for it. “I haven’t opened this door since . . .” I thought a moment. “Since the morning we discovered Mason’s body.”

  “Mayhap ye should fetch the constable.”

  Dirk must have been worried indeed to want Harper back. “No.” I ran my hand lightly over the gouged wood. “It’s been here several days. See the dust caught in between the splinters? That doesn’t happen overnight. I’ll call him tonight before the party.”

  Sam called from the door. “Are you okay, Peg?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Just checking. It’s not every day somebody gets stitches in their head.”

  I relocked the wonderful dead bolt and went to deal with whatever the day brought.

  22

  Surprise!

  At six o’clock, Gilda and Sam left together, and Gilda made a big point of telling me she’d see me tomorrow morning. I toyed with the idea of staying late, peeking to see how soon they’d come sneaking into the Logg Cabin, but decided that was juvenile. Anyway, I had to get showered and changed before Drew showed up at six thirty. I eased the shawl around my shoulders and left by the front door. The only excuse I could think of for opening the passenger door for Dirk was to bend and place my purse on the floor next to his very long legs, in case anyone was watching. Bending was a mistake, though. My head swam, and I grabbed the seat to steady myself. Amazing what being hit by a garbage truck can do to one’s sense of equilibrium.

  “Are ye a-swoon?”

  “No, I’m dizzy.”

  “Is that nae what I said?” He studied me for a moment while I caught my breath. “Ye didna call the constable yet.”

  “When I get home.” I closed his door, wishing I could tell Harper in person and see the concern on his face.

  As I slid behind the wheel, Dirk said, “Did ye see someone spying on us from the wee cabin of Logg?”

  I glanced casually over my shoulder, hoping it would look like I was checking traffic behind me. A curtain twitched at the Logg Cabin. Uh-huh. “Karaline,” I said, “or somebody, making sure I’m gone. They’ll probably start showing up soon.” I drove away without looking back again. “I wonder if she could see you, now that she’s not at my house, I mean.”

  Dirk didn’t answer. He folded and refolded the end of his plaid. That seemed a strange way for a man to while away the time, but mayhap—maybe—that was a fourteenth-century thing. He was silent for several blocks. Finally he took a deep breath—I could hear it even above the sound of the engine—and said, “Ye think I frighten people away when I walk near them in the wee shop.”

  It sounded almost like a question. “Yes,” I said slowly, not knowing where this was leading.

  “Mayhap I should stay awae this night. Your bee party is, I think, important to you.”

  “No, Dirk. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” I’d said that almost reflexively, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but once the words were out, I felt the deep truth of them. I truly wanted him to be there.

  I could feel him studying my profile. “Aye,” he finally said. “If ye wish, I will go with ye.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Could I ask a wee favor, though?”

  I took a quick glance at him before turning into my driveway. “Yes?”

  “Would ye let me carry my Peigi’s shawl?”

  * * *

  When Drew knocked on the front door, I ran to it, only halfway noting Dirk’s look of approval as I passed by him. I put my finger over my lips before I opened the door. I didn’t want to have one of those lopsided conversations. Karaline knew about Dirk, but I wasn’t sure I wanted Drew in on the secret, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why not. He was my brother, my twin. Why shouldn’t I share Dirk with him?

  Drew didn’t even wait to wheel himself in before asking, “What’s up, sis?”

  “Come on in here,” I motioned him into the living room, “and let’s get settled. It’s kind of a long story.”

  “I know. You mentioned as much when you called this morning.”

  I bent to pat Tessa’s silky head and her angel-soft ears. She sported a bright green bow on her collar. Loved that dog. She was the best thing that ever happened to Drew.

  Dirk leaned against the window frame in his usual place and seemed to be studying the wheelchair. Tessa pranced over to him and sat, looking up expectantly. Dirk crouched down, and Tessa reached out a tongue to lick his face. She stood up, backed away a bit, and shook her head, for all the world like someone trying to clear a foggy brain. I remembered that sense of fog in my own brain, that time in front of the police station when Dirk had tried to keep me from falling. She ran her tongue in and out of her mouth a few times, as if she were testing its workability.

  “Tessa, here. What’s wrong with you, girl?” She laid her head on Drew’s lap, and he took a quick but thorough look at her teeth and in each one of her ears. She looked back across her doggie shoulder at Dirk, who stood once again beside the window.

  I raised my eyebrows at Dirk, and he shrugged.

  “What’s she looking at?”

  “Uh, maybe there’s a squirrel on the tree outside the window.” Or a ghostie in front of the window.

  “She doesn’t
usually pay much attention to squirrels.” He looked worried, and bent forward to run a hand under her neck and down her chest. “Wish I could tell what she was thinking.”

  What she’s thinking is: Why on earth did my tongue miss that guy over there?

  Drew settled back, and eventually Tessa turned around three times and curled into a doggie lump beside the left wheel, but I noticed that she seemed to be keeping an eye on Dirk.

  I settled onto the couch. “I’m not sure how much you know about what’s been happening.”

  “Mason’s dead, Shoe was arrested and released for lack of evidence, and there’s a safe in your back wall. Oh, and you wrecked your car.” He looked downright smug, darn his hide.

  “You know about the safe?”

  He looked at me as if he thought I’d lost my mind, a look I remembered all too well from our childhood together. “Who are my two buddies?”

  “Right. Sam and Shoe.” I shifted mental gears. “Since I don’t have to tell you all that, I’ll tell you something that happened this morning.”

  “The fat wall, right?”

  “Good grief, bro, what do you not know about my life?”

  “Sam texted me just before lunch.”

  I thought back and decided I didn’t need to fire Sam. Not this time. Texting while customers were in the store was absolutely forbidden, but we’d had a slow period for a while there. “Okay. Well, the question is, do you think Mason was murdered because of something that’s in that wall? Either the safe or something else we don’t know about yet?”

  “Yes. There has to be a connection. But why did you invite me over so early if that’s all you had to talk about?”

  “Because I thought I was going to have to tell you the whole story, you twit.”

  “Don’t grump at me. I haven’t heard your side of it. You know Sam and Shoe both miss a lot.”

  Somewhat appeased, I relented and told him the whole story, leaving out only a few details, like Harper’s shoulders and Dirk’s presence. When I was through, Drew rolled his own shoulders, massive from three years of wheeling himself around, and twisted his torso from side to side. “That’s quite a tale, sis. Tell me more about that piece of paper, though.”

  “The one they found in Mason’s sporran?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I told you I can’t remember the exact order of it. There was a number eighteen, and a four, and something about a thousand dentists, and a percentage of some sort. And it was wrinkly, like he’d balled it up; I think I forgot to mention that earlier.”

  “I need to see the list. If we could look at it together, we might be able to decipher it.”

  “Okay. I’ll see Harper tomorrow night when he comes to help tear out the shelves. I can ask him to get me a copy of it.”

  “You can ask him at the p— Uh . . . never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Drew, what were you going to say?”

  “Forget it.” He looked at his watch. “We better leave if we want to get there right at seven thirty.”

  * * *

  I opened the van door and held it while Dirk climbed in the backseat. Tessa always sat in front, where she could help Drew if he needed it. He fastened her into the doggie seatbelt as Tessa strained to look at Dirk. “Tessa, behave yourself. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Don’t be hard on her; she’s just looking around.” At a ghost.

  “It’s like she’s forgetting her training. That’s not good.”

  “Mayhap she is excited about the party.”

  “That’s right. Maybe so.”

  “No maybe. She’s misbehaving!”

  Oh crud. Here we go again. I made a quelling gesture at Dirk. He gave me one of those little mister innocent looks. Tessa looked from me to Dirk to me again over the back of the seat.

  “Down,” Drew said, and her soft head disappeared.

  * * *

  Karaline must have been watching for us, because the door opened before we were halfway around the courtyard. “Welcome!” Drew reached over to straighten the bow on Tessa’s collar, and Karaline took the chance to wave at Dirk, who gave her a courtly leg and a polite, “Good e’en, Mistress Caroline.” Without missing a beat, she spread her arms, seeming to draw us in toward her embrace. Her bright orange caftan gave her arms the look of bat wings. Beneath it, there was a long expanse of legs encased in skintight leggings.

  I returned her hug. She bent to hug Drew, quite expertly blocking me from entering the Logg Cabin until she was ready. I grinned at Drew over her shoulder and he crossed his eyes. “I hope you cooked a lot of food, Kari,” he said. “Didn’t have time for lunch. I could eat a small horse.”

  “No horses here. You’ll have to settle for lasagna.” Karaline’s signature dish. I sure hoped the fifteen dollars from each guest would cover her expenses. I didn’t have time to worry about it, though. The moment we stepped through the door, the place erupted.

  Streamers, paper lanterns, and candles—electric because of K’s strict adherence to OSHA rules and regulations. Somebody turned on one of those rotating mirrored balls. I thought they’d gone out of style shortly after I graduated from high school. Apparently not. I blinked. I absolutely refused to get a headache.

  Speaking of headaches, Gilda, thankfully free of a migraine, threw her arms around me. “Were you surprised?”

  I hate to lie, but what was I supposed to say? No? “Totally, Gilda. Thanks for not giving it away. I love a good surprise.”

  “Ye told me ye dinna like surprises.” Why on earth was Dirk whispering?

  “Oh, goodie.” Gilda had a whole stockpile of those 1950s phrases.

  Someone stuck a beer in my hand and gave one to Gilda. Sam reached around her and took it away. The two of them wandered off, and I idly watched Tessa dividing her attention between her master and her favorite ghost.

  Everyone knew not to feed her, but I still kept a wary eye in case someone tried to slip her a treat. She’d supposedly learned not to take food from anyone except Drew, but the smells in here must have been driving her nuts. Drew as usual seemed to know what I was thinking. “I fed her just before we came. You can stop fussing.” I denied it, but he just laughed.

  It really was a fun party. People seemed to melt out of the way whenever Dirk passed near them, but nobody seemed to notice what they were doing. Thank goodness people hugged me gently. I still felt like my head was going to explode, or at least fall apart quietly. Luckily, the music in the background was soft and dreamy.

  The next time I circled close to Drew, he picked up one of the half-dozen Nerf balls lined up beside a mountain of presents and threw one of them at Ethan, who threw it back. Tessa tensed, her instinct to spring for the ball fighting against her training. The training won. “Don’t look now,” Drew said, “but somebody else is here.” Had he seen Dirk? No, not possible.

  Behind me, I heard Dirk grumble low in his throat. Tessa whipped her head around and stared at him. I ignored the two of them and followed the line of Drew’s sight.

  Harper. I set down my garlic bread and swallowed quickly. He saw me. I know he did, but he looked calmly around the room, walked straight to Karaline, and returned her hug. K hugged everybody, but that didn’t make me feel any better. The first thing she did after the hug was lead him over to where Drew sat. Karaline motioned to me rather impatiently, one of those gestures that said, Get your duff in gear and join the party right here, right now.

  I got my duff in gear.

  “Happy birthday.” Harper shook Drew’s hand and smiled at Tessa. Then the world stopped when he looked at me. I know there were people talking and music playing and food emitting the most delicious aromas, but my mind went fuzzy, just like Tessa’s head.

  Tessa nuzzled my leg, and I shook myself. “You okay, sis?” Drew’s voice came through the sound
of the music.

  Harper held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Still in a bit of a fog, I let him draw me into the center of the room. It wasn’t a dance floor exactly, but people moved out of our way, and a few couples even joined us. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.

  His warm breath on my ear almost did me in. “Th-thank you,” I stuttered, feeling teenagerish again. I had an insane desire to rip off that stupid neck brace so he could brush his lips across my neck.

  I could have stayed like that for a very, very long time, even with the neck brace, but Karaline clapped her hands and someone turned off the music. “Present time! You weren’t supposed to bring any, but since you did, we need to find out what’s in these boxes.”

  There were a lot of bottles of prune juice for the two of us, ancient beings that we now were, including two six-packs of the little cans. Dirk wondered what would be prune juice, but I decided the explanation would have to wait till later. What did they call constipation in the fourteenth century? Costive. That was it.

  We each unwrapped an end of a cardboard carpet-roll tube and withdrew two canes. Drew demonstrated the proper use of his—poking at the middle of the guy who’d given us the gift. Most everything was a gag. When you’re thirty and have your own place, you probably have all the stuff you’re ever going to need. Thank goodness nobody brought us household goods. Just fun things that would most likely end up at Goodwill the next time we headed there. Somebody would need those canes someday, but not me.

  As we got down to the bottom of the pile, Gilda handed me an enormous package wrapped in toilet paper, tied up with a string. “Thanks, Gilda.” She giggled. Sam, beside her, laughed. I pulled on the string. It knotted. I pulled harder.

  “Don’t do that, sis. You’ll just make it worse.”

  Drew reached for it, but I pulled it back. “It’s mine. I can mess it up if I want to.” I picked at the knot, wishing my fingernails were longer, wishing everybody weren’t watching me and hollering suggestions.

  A long arm reached in front of Gilda. Harper held a wicked-looking knife, somewhat longer than Dirk’s sgian-dubh. The boisterous crowd fell instantly silent, except for one lone voice that called, “Hey, dude, bad knife.” With one flick, Harper severed the string. He looked at me, not smiling, which seemed more devastating than a smile would have been. Those charcoal eyes of his were darker than I’d ever seen them.