by Hannah Reed
Right then, the inspector arrived.
“What took you so long?” I asked, rising and moving off to a short distance where the two of us could speak in private, but still keep an eye on Lily.
“Are ye scolding me?”
I guess I was. “I’m a little stressed is all,” I told him. “It’s not every day that I catch a criminal by myself.”
“It’s my auto that’s the bother,” he explained. “It’s been acting up and wouldn’t start. I’ll have tae call fer a tow. Noo, can ye explain a bit more o’ this situation?”
“I could, but I’d prefer you get it from the horse’s mouth.”
With my prompting and Jamieson’s prodding, we finally got Lily to admit that she had drugged Isla. “I didn’t mean anythin’ by it,” she said. “I only wanted tae get rid o’ her fer the afternoon and tae shut her trap fer a change.”
“You planned it in advance.”
“I guess it was on my mind fer a spell, gettin’ her outta the way so I could take charge fer a bit. And after Senga threw away the sample, I came up with the idea, went back and got them. . . . I really disliked that woman!”
“Enough tae kill her, I expect,” the inspector said.
But Lily wasn’t taking the blame for Isla’s death. She flat-out denied it, and as much as the inspector tried, he couldn’t get her to confess to the murder.
Eventually, the inspector pulled me aside and said, “Good work, Constable Elliott. But at this point, I might have better results takin’ her in tae the station fer further questioning. And with her statement regarding actions tae put Isla out o’ commission, I’ll be able tae hold her a spell. Noo all I need is a vehicle.” He gave me a steady look. “Ye’re back on the case, I’m suspecting.”
“Yes.”
“I thought as much.”
“And if you need a ride, I’m sure Sean Stevens would be happy to chauffeur you around,” I deadpanned.
“More o’ that foolish talk and I’ll have tae put ye on parking ticket duty.”
“No you won’t,” I said in a tone the Scots would describe as cheeky. “You need me to help solve this case.”
“Ye can wipe that smirk right off yer face,” he said. “I’ve made arrangements with Sean tae use his car. Up until a moment ago it was unclear how he would get out and aboot. But now, he’ll be the one riding with a partner, and can ye guess who that might be?”
My smile slid sideways.
CHAPTER 25
I stood on the cobblestone walkway watching the inspector drive off in Sean’s red Renault with Lily Young beside him.
Sean Stevens slid into the passenger seat of my Peugeot. “Ye can do the driving, and I’ll do the directing, Lesser Constable Elliott,” Sean informed me as he closed the door.
I went around and got into the driver’s seat. “Lesser?”
“We need tae make a distinguish between us, and since I have seniority, I thought Lesser would be appropriate until such a time as me own rank increases.”
I considered the possibility of driving as close as possible to one of the many highland cliffs, reaching across Sean, opening his door, and shoving him out. But then Vicki would never speak to me again, and I valued her friendship. So that could only be a fantasy, one to escape into in trying times.
Like this one.
“We didn’t find anything out o’ the ordinary at Harry Taggart’s office or his home or his automobile,” Sean went on as he buckled up (the seat belt another complication in my fantasy to throw him out). “So fer now, we will assume that his story is true, and pursue the culprit who stole his kit. Where are we off tae?”
“The inspector just drove off in your car with Lily Young,” I said, starting the engine, agitated at his cluelessness. “And we are supposed to follow.”
“What are ye waiting fer, then?” Sean interrupted. “Snow on the mountain peaks?”
As I pulled away from the Kilt & Thistle my thoughts flitted back to the sheep dog trials on Saturday. We’d had amazingly sunny weather leading up to the event, and it had lasted right through Saturday. Several volunteers had been sunburnt as had many of the spectators. I’d learned that Lily got hers while staking out the harbor, waiting for a couple to return in hopes of confirming the identity of Oliver Wallace’s guest. Isla had also had a bad case of sunburn. So had Oliver.
What if Oliver and Isla really had been out in the Moray Firth together? Not as lovers—I’d heard Isla snipping at Oliver too many times, showing her frustration with him for being late, or for disappearing when work was to be done, or . . . on and on. And he’d intentionally irritated her. I didn’t believe for a moment that they were carrying on in a romantic relationship . . . but that didn’t mean they weren’t up to something else.
Did it even matter with the latest development? Lily Young had deliberately given Isla Lindsey a drug-laced cupcake, and she’d even admitted it. So it would have been easy for her to slip into the van and strangle the unconscious woman.
Case closed.
Or was it?
There was still the issue of stolen money. Lily hadn’t shown any signs of stress when we discussed the money-collecting procedures during fund-raisers. She’d actually been forthcoming and helpful.
What about Oliver? He was one of the trusted inner circle, on the short list of those approved to collect cash at all the events. He might not be a killer, but he could be a crook. What if he’d been Isla’s partner? That is, if she even had one. This was purely speculation on my part.
All kinds of scenarios were going through my mind as we left the center of the village behind us. I glanced at the harbor as we came directly parallel to the docks, thinking of Oliver’s boat and Lily’s suspicions. Maybe it would be worthwhile to walk around, see things from her point of view.
I slowed down, then made a snap decision and pulled over. “We need to make a short stop here,” I told Sean.
“As ye stated, the inspector specifically ordered us tae follow him.” He scanned the road ahead. I followed his eyes. The Renault wasn’t in sight. “And ye didn’t even try tae keep up. He’s going tae be unhappy with us as it ’tis, without makin’ things worse fer us. Ye can take a stroll afterwards on yer own time.”
I climbed out.
“We haff tae follow orders!” Sean was becoming agitated. “And wha’ do ye want at the harbor anyhoo?”
“Uh . . . I’m meeting Leith Cameron,” I said. “But it will only take a few minutes.”
“Can’t the lovey-dovey wait?” Sean was out of the car, coming around, not at all happy with me.
“You go on,” I told him, wondering how I’d get back. I supposed I could call Vicki for a ride. Or perhaps I’d really run into Leith. “Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll catch up later?”
“This is not the way o’ things.”
Ah, but I had an ace up my sleeve. “Lily Young is the one who drugged Isla. She’s admitted it.”
That did it. Sean leapt in and planted himself behind the wheel before I finished speaking. “Why dinnae ye say so earlier? We’ve closed the case then!” he said, excited now.
“Hurry. You don’t want to miss her confession.”
Sean actually managed to squeal the tires on the old Peugeot as he took off after the inspector, trailing in his dust as usual. I watched him disappear from sight then turned toward the dock.
Off to my left, the beach was empty except for a few late-season strollers. Even though the sun beat down brightly and a warm breeze lifted a few strands of my hair, the waters of the North Sea had started to cool off in anticipation of the coming winter. No one was swimming.
Next to the beach, a row of canoes for hire had been pulled up onto the sandy shore and were being loaded onto the bed of a pickup truck, presumably on the way to storage until spring. Two sandpipers waded nearby.
As I walked onto the main woo
den dock, swallows with forked tails and pointed wings swooped gracefully overhead. A black-headed gull stood on one of the mooring pilings.
Sailboat riggings sang on the breeze. These boats, too, would soon be lifted onto cradles and stowed safely before temperatures plummeted.
I walked the length of the main pier, looking for Oliver’s boat. But all of these were the commercial fishing boats and charters. Bragging Rights was in its slip, but its owner was nowhere in sight. Today, Leith must be on the River Spey, fly-fishing with customers who often hired him to help them locate river salmon. It was a beautiful afternoon for wading upstream.
I couldn’t remember the name of Oliver’s boat, but I felt confident that I would recognize the name once I saw it.
Next, I walked along the dock to the left, closest to the beach where the smaller craft were tucked into slips. Slowly, enjoying the weather and the colorful harbor, I checked the names of the boats. While many of them were clever wordplays, and others were in Scottish Gaelic that I couldn’t translate, none rang a bell for me.
There was only one pier left. Oliver’s boat had to be docked there. I’d almost walked the entire length, admiring the size of the cruisers, when a familiar boat name jumped out at me. Slip Away. That was it!
Oliver’s “wee” boat was hardly what I’d consider small, but it sure was bonny. It was a luxury cruiser with multiple levels including an upper sundeck. Stepping over thick ropes securing his pleasure boat to the slip, I walked along the planks beside it, calling out to Oliver. I noticed immediately that his motor craft wasn’t locked up. In fact, it appeared that someone had been here recently. So when he didn’t answer, I stepped on board.
A toolbox was open in the cockpit and the hatch leading below deck was open. I stopped at the steps and called down to Oliver, again without a response.
I slowly descended to find a galley, a bedroom to rival any fine hotel’s luxury suite, and a bathroom with a full shower. The closet contained a rack of menswear. As I poked around, I thought about possible hiding places for large sums of cash. There were all kinds of nooks and crannies. Everywhere I turned, I encountered more hidden storage spaces. While I listened for signs of Oliver’s return, I couldn’t resist opening this and that, reasoning that this might be my only chance. If I had stashed cash on a boat like this, where would it be?
That was a perplexing question. One that I decided I better save for another day. All signs pointed to someone’s imminent return, and that someone would be Oliver and he shouldn’t find me down here snooping, especially if he was up to something.
The question was, what?
Lily had practically confessed to Isla’s murder. Or had she?
Isla had been killed in Oliver’s van. He had been seen with Harry right after he picked up his yarn kit. And he’d had access to collected charity funds.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Oliver had secrets. They might not involve murder, but embezzlement was a serious crime. I hadn’t intended to go this far alone. My quickly hatched plan had been to wander around by the pier and try to put a few puzzle pieces together. The man could be dangerous. Instinct kicked in. I needed to get out of here.
As I hurried toward the stairs leading to the deck, I gave the rooms one last scan. I’d discovered plenty of equipment that was completely unfamiliar to me. But no safe for valuables. And no money.
Once above, I turned my gaze briefly to the open sea, pausing to admire the view instead of minding the dock. Too late, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning quickly, I saw Oliver. He was on board, and he had his hands filled with ropes, the same ones I’d noticed earlier that had been holding his cruiser securely in its slip.
“Eden Elliott,” he said, his eyes flashing with smoldering anger as he threw the lines in a pile. “So nice tae have you aboard. I’m guessing ye haven’t seen one o’ our sunsets from the sea yet. Ye’re long overdue fer a boat ride.”
The implication wasn’t subtle. This would be my one and only.
I moved toward the pier, but he blocked my path. “Ye need tae go below until we’re safely out o’ the harbor,” he said.
I frantically looked for assistance but there wasn’t anybody in the immediate vicinity. All the tourists were gone. Summer was over. It was a workday. There were all kinds of reasons why no one was around. Regardless, I opened my mouth to belt out a cry for help.
Before I knew what was happening, Oliver had shoved me toward the stairs. I tried to catch my balance, but he picked me up, took a few steps to the hatch, and attempted to throw me down. I reached out, grabbing and securing a hold just in time to save myself from a fall, and stumbled down, managing to make it below without a crippling injury. Within the space of a few seconds, I was locked below.
I heard the engine start up.
A few minutes later, we were moving.
CHAPTER 26
The first thing I did was dig out my cell phone to call the inspector. No signal. The boat had picked up speed, and thanks to a zillion-horsepower engine, I’d already lost cell coverage.
The next thing I did was look for a weapon. My pepper spray! I’d forgotten about it. It was my go-to protection but I wanted a backup in case the spray failed me.
There were knives in the galley kitchen. My first impulse was to choose the biggest and sharpest, but stealth might be more important to my future than showmanship, so I tucked a medium-size knife inside my waistband, hoping the blade was sharp enough to do damage. I tried not to imagine having to use it, or whether I could if the time came.
Next, I rummaged around searching for life jackets and finally found them in a berth. I put one on. It had a whistle dangling from a cord that would come in handy, if I managed to keep the vest on when I went overboard.
I was pretty sure I was going to end up in the water. And I really hoped that this life preserver lived up to its name. And that the sea was teeming with available boaters just waiting to rescue a damsel in distress.
Unless . . .
Unless, Oliver intended to strangle me and then dump my body.
Next my rogue mind stopped and dwelled on a shark attack. Dead or alive, the thought of being eaten scared me silly.
I considered the likelihood of a timely rescue. Since I’d lied to Sean about meeting Leith, I couldn’t expect any help there.
So I had my pepper spray, a life preserver, and a knife tucked into the band of my underwear. What else could a girl possibly wish for?
To wake up from this nightmare, for starters.
Now that I was as prepared as I could be, I staved off paralyzing fear by considering Oliver and the reason I was about to feed the fishes. Of course it involved Isla Lindsey—either her murder, the missing money, or both. Even in death the woman was causing trouble for those of us left behind. If there was another life after this one, I was going to find her and get my payback.
Eventually the engine died. Or idled. Or something. Whatever the case, it wasn’t as loud as before, so I assumed we’d reached our final destination. I thought I might be sick. My stomach was roiling, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t due to seasickness. I talked myself out of crumpling into a helpless mess, focusing on survival instead.
The hatch above me opened up, and my heart flew into my throat. Blue sky shone through, until it was blocked by Oliver coming into view. Would he come down to finish me off? I white-knuckled the pepper spray canister. The knife tucked away gave me a small bit of reassurance.
“Up with ye, nice and easy,” he said, giving me a few moments of reprieve.
A new dilemma arose. Do as ordered? Or take my chances here below? Make him come and get me? I still had choices, as few as they were.
“I don’t think so,” I told him.
He crouched and peered down, and I noticed that he wore a life vest, too. He was framed in the hatchway, though too far away for me to hit him with the pepper spray. “Be a lamb,�
� he practically cooed.
As in lamb to the slaughter? I didn’t think so.
“I’ll consider coming up,” I bargained, stalling for time, “if you tell me why I’m down here in the first place.”
“Because,” he answered easily, “I dinnae invite ye on board.”
True enough, but not the real reason.
“Were you having an affair with Isla Lindsey?” I demanded.
“What?” Oliver began to laugh. “With that stupid biddy? That cow Lily Young saw us going out together on this fine cruiser and jumped tae the wrong conclusion. That one’s fond o’ me, ye know.”
So Lily hadn’t been mistaken about one thing—she’d seen them together on this boat.
“You stole money from the hospice,” I guessed next. I took a step closer to the hatchway, nervously calculating my chances with the pepper spray.
He watched me with intensity and distrust as he said, “It wasn’t me. Isla was the thief. I caught her back in the spring, writing checks tae herself, so I watched and found out she was skimming cash from the events as well.”
“Why would she do that? She didn’t have a financial problem, did she?”
“Isla was a nasty woman, thinkin’ she was entitled, sayin’ she was underpaid fer the responsibility she undertook. She did it tae get even.”
“What about her husband? Did he know?”
“Bryan? There’s a bloke with his head in the sand. Besides, the money was safely stowed away where his prying eyes couldn’t find it.”
Another few steps, while I tried to remember how far the pepper spray would shoot. When I’d used it on Kirstine, I hadn’t had to worry about distance. She was right in my face at the time.
“You knew, yet you didn’t turn her in. You wanted a cut.” I tried to sound impressed, hoping to feed his ego and keep him talking.
“She wasn’t a bit happy aboot that, and tried tae get out o’ it, but I held her feet tae the fire.” Oliver smirked and went on, “Last week she overheard her boss on the phone, talking with an auditor. That put a bit of fear intae her. By Saturday morning she was sayin’ if they caught her she wasn’t going down alone. Her mistake. ‘Meet me at two o’clock,’ she said, like she was the big boss. ‘I’m not in this alone, and I’ll say as much. We have tae figure this out together.’” Oliver shook his head as if in disbelief. “She was nervy, all right. I can say that much fer her.”