by Mary Daheim
“We met her at the cemetery,” Judith said. “She was putting flowers on the grave of a man with an Italian name.”
Alison nodded. “Davey. He worked for her.”
“Oh?” Judith couldn’t rein in her natural curiosity. “Moira looks so young. What does she do?”
“She inherited Blackwell Petroleum,” Alison explained. “Her parents are both dead. Her father died young, and her mother ran the company for many years until she passed away about the same time that Frankie—Moira’s first husband—died. Moira’s half brother helps run the company. Davey was her personal assistant.”
“And now,” Judith said, “Moira’s married to Harry Gibbs. Does he work for Blackwell Petroleum?”
Alison frowned. “Well—Harry’s not one for working.”
After nineteen years with Dan McMonigle, Judith understood. She was about to ask how Harry’s parents could afford to travel so much, but two young women entered the shop. Renie hurriedly asked Alison if she knew how to get back to the castle when the tide was in.
“You can use this phone,” Alison said, bestowing a friendly smile on the newcomers. “Here, I’ll do it for you.” After a pause, Alison informed whoever had answered that the American guests needed transport. “Gibbs will be along shortly,” she told the cousins.
Judith thanked Alison and exited the shop with Renie, who was already standing by the door.
“Well?” Renie said. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”
“You can hardly blame me for wanting to get to know some of the locals,” Judith said in a defensive tone.
Renie shook her head. “Coz, by the time we leave you’ll be on a first-name basis with everybody in this village.”
“So?”
“Never mind.” Renie paused as a midsize sedan came up the hill. “Maybe this is Gibbs.” But the car kept going. “Maybe it isn’t,” Renie murmured. “I wonder what he’s driving?”
“He can’t miss us,” Judith reasoned. “There are only about ten other people on the High Street.”
An older man on a bicycle went by and doffed his cap. A van that bore the lettering MACBEAN MEAT PURVEYORS came up the street and stopped in front of the butcher shop. The sun had come out again. Judith gazed down the hill toward the castle where the flags hung limp on their standards. “It’s fairly warm,” she remarked.
Renie nodded. “Probably fifty degrees. Still in my comfort zone.”
The quiet of the street was broken by the oncoming roar of a motorcycle heading in their direction.
“Bikers,” Renie said in disgust. “I understand they have problems with them over here, too.”
Before Judith could respond, the cycle slowed and stopped. She stared at the helmeted man leaning on the handlebars. “Gibbs?”
“Aye.” He pointed to a sidecar. “Who goes first?”
“Who,” Renie retorted, “doesn’t have to go at all?”
Judith considered her artificial hip. “Is the ride…bumpy?”
“Nae,” Gibbs replied. “I’ll drive slow.”
Renie nudged Judith. “You go. I’ll find an inn and stay here.”
Judith ignored the sarcasm. Gibbs dismounted to help her get in the sidecar. After securing her parcels with a rope, he started the cycle, and with a mighty roar they made a U-turn and headed down the hill.
Gibbs wasn’t going fast, though the cobbled street made for a rough ride anyway. But as soon as they left the High Street and started down the road to the beach, the track turned smooth. Gibbs assisted Judith in getting out of the sidecar, and then unloaded her packages.
“Be back anon,” he said, and hopped onto the motorcycle.
Judith gazed out to sea where a freighter sailed across the horizon. Far down the beach she saw children playing among the rocks. And before her, the castle loomed in its solid age-old mass.
Looking to her right, she noticed Harry Gibbs’s Rover. Apparently he hadn’t spent very long wherever he’d been going after dropping off the cousins. Perhaps he’d met his wife Moira for lunch. Judith frowned. Harry had said he didn’t intend to stop in St. Fergna. She couldn’t help but wonder about the younger Gibbses’ marriage. They were virtual newlyweds, judging from the date of Moira’s first husband’s death. They also had a new baby. Her curiosity couldn’t be squelched.
At that moment, the Rover’s door opened and Harry got out. To Judith’s astonishment, he was stark naked. He didn’t look her way but walked straight into the sea and began swimming.
Or, Judith thought suddenly, was he trying to drown himself?
But Harry seemed to be staying close to shore, bobbing up and down on the occasional wave, backstroking toward the beach, diving briefly underwater. Maybe he was a member of what they called the Polar Bear Club at home: hardy souls who went swimming no matter how low the temperature dropped.
Harry was still splashing about when Gibbs returned with Renie.
“Wow,” Renie said softly, “that was kind of fun. Thanks, Gibbs.”
Judith waited for Gibbs to help Renie get out of the sidecar. “Does your grandson often go swimming this time of year?” she finally asked.
“Och,” Gibbs said with a nod, “the madness of youth. Better than taking those devilish drugs. Into the boat with ye, ladies. I’ll come back for Beams later.”
“Beams?” Renie said.
“Aye. ’Tis an older BMW bike.”
“You don’t have a car at the castle?” Judith asked, still watching Harry swim hither and yon.
“Aye, we do, but ’tis in the shop. Brakes need fixing.” Just as he was about to help Judith get into the skiff, he looked up. “Och! The Master has arrived!”
Judith turned toward the road where a handsome wine-colored sedan was creeping onto the beach. “Do you mean Mr. Fordyce?”
Gibbs suddenly seemed agitated. “Aye, I do. Lord help us!” He glanced out to sea where Harry was still frolicking. “We must bide.”
“Sure,” Renie said. “I’ve always wanted to meet a master.”
Gibbs was hurrying to greet the newcomer. The middle-aged man in the dark-colored windbreaker looked ordinary to Judith—close to six feet, graying black hair, a mustache, and a long, lean face.
The woman who got out on the passenger side was far from ordinary. She was young and slim, with long black hair floating over her shoulders. Her features weren’t perfect, but the slanting brown eyes were lively and she exuded self-confidence.
“Phil!” she cried in an amused voice as she pointed toward the water. “Is that Harry?”
Philip Fordyce peered in the direction his companion had indicated. “Damn fool!” he exploded. “Reckless and stupid!”
Harry swam toward shore. Gibbs muttered to himself. Philip swore under his breath. His companion laughed so hard she had to lean on Philip. Judith and Renie felt like excess baggage.
Harry floated a few more feet before standing up.
“Oh, he’s starkers!” the young woman cried. “How terribly funny!”
Harry walked nonchalantly toward his car but stopped halfway, turned around, and mooned the little gathering.
“What a prat!” the girl cried, and laughed some more.
“Despicable,” Philip declared, refusing to look at Harry. “To the castle, Gibbs.” He scrutinized the cousins. “Are these…ladies with you?”
“Er…aye, they’re the MacGowan’s friends, Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones from the States.”
“I see,” Philip said, his keen hazel eyes surveying the cousins.
“We didn’t ken ye’d be back from the islands so soon,” Gibbs said.
“Cyclone warnings,” Philip replied. “Come, Beth, get into the skiff.”
Judith overcame her awkward feelings. “Mr. Gibbs, are we a problem?” she whispered as Philip and Beth climbed into the little boat.
“Nae, nae,” Gibbs said softly. “The Master can be a wee bit tetchy.”
As Gibbs gave Judith a hand, she looked for Harry but he wasn’t in sight. Maybe, she thought, he was
getting dressed in the car. Certainly he wouldn’t have gone into the village in the altogether. Or, she wondered, would he? Harry Gibbs seemed unpredictable.
The girl called Beth was sitting next to Philip, clinging to him like paste. “I’m glad we came back early,” she said. “I was bored at Palma.”
“I noticed,” Philip said dryly. But he smiled and patted her hand.
“Hospitality,” Renie murmured, and sighed. “Scotland is famous for it. We thank you for yours, Mr. Fordyce. Or do I call you ‘Master’?”
Judith tensed. Renie didn’t like being ignored. Trouble was already brewing.
“Mr. Fordyce will do,” Philip replied. “The title is honorary.”
“And deferential,” Renie noted. She smiled, the phony, toothsome smile that usually spelled impending disaster. “How quaint.”
The little boat plied the waters in silence for the rest of the short trip. Judith was relieved that Philip Fordyce hadn’t risen to the bait. After all, Renie couldn’t swim.
The cousins immediately retreated to Judith and Joe’s room.
“Trophy wife,” Renie said. “Big-shot CEO dumps wife number one and lands beautiful raven-tressed bimbo.”
Judith stretched out on the bed. “I’m not sure she’s a bimbo. The only thing I was sure of was that you were trying to provoke Philip Fordyce. Wasn’t decking Mrs. Gunn enough brutality for you today?”
Renie shrugged. “Did Mrs. Gibbs say they had high tea?”
“She did, in fact,” Judith said. “At four. It’s a few minutes after.”
“Better late than never,” Renie said. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, coz, I’m tired! You go. I think I’ll take a nap.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Head for the trough. Let me know when you’re finished.”
It didn’t take long for Judith to fall asleep. Maybe she was still suffering from jet lag. Maybe she’d walked too much in the past couple of days. Maybe the excitement of the trip had tired her. But, she’d told herself when she stretched out under the down comforter, the reason she’d gone on vacation was that she was already worn out. It was time to relax and recreate. Sleep was necessary; sleep was healing.
Upon awakening, Judith looked at her watch. To her astonishment, it was going on six. She’d slept for almost two hours. Even Renie couldn’t take that long to gobble up high tea.
Judith cautiously got out of the canopied bed and stepped onto the furry area rug instead of the cold stone floor. After slipping on her shoes, she went across the passageway to see if Renie was in the Joneses’ room. There was no response to Judith’s knock, so she opened the unlocked door and called her cousin’s name. No one answered. Perhaps Renie was still enjoying a hearty tea meal. Or she’d gotten into a row with Philip Fordyce. Maybe there was a note. Judith glanced at the parcel containing Renie’s new sweaters. There was nothing on the bureau except for Bill’s assortment of small change, travel information, and a new pair of shoelaces. The empty suitcases were stored in the wardrobe. The mantel revealed nothing. Judith gave up.
Halfway to the door, she was startled by a voice. Judith stopped to listen. “Open the gate,” said the high-pitched voice. “Open the gate.”
There was no one in the room and the tall windows were shut, so Judith assumed the voice was coming from the passageway. She went to the door. The corridor was empty. The other guest rooms were supposedly vacant. Judith stood on the threshold and listened. But there was no further sound. Puzzled, she crossed the passageway just as Renie came up the stairs.
“Wow,” Renie said in an awed voice. “That was some tea! Scones and shortbread and sandwiches and…What’s wrong? You look weird.”
Judith shook herself. “Nothing. I was looking for you in your room and I heard somebody talking. But nobody was there.”
Renie laughed. “Are you nuts?”
“No. No, of course not.”
“Come on,” Renie said. “Let’s go into my room so I can put away my sweaters.”
“I haven’t put my own things away,” Judith said, indicating the summer clothes she was still wearing.
“Okay,” Renie said, “I’ll come with you. Opening bags and boxes of new wearables is one of my favorite things, right next to buying them.”
As Judith removed her items from their wrappings, she asked Renie if Philip and Beth had shown up for tea.
“No,” Renie said, sitting on the bed and dangling her feet over the side. “They’re staying on the other side of the castle. For some reason, Philip wanted to see Chuckie, but he couldn’t be found. The Fordyces are definitely married. And that’s a Daimler Super Eight that he drives. They’re really expensive. The whiskey business must be good.”
“I suspect it is,” Judith agreed, hanging up one of the pairs of slacks she’d bought. “I think I’ll wear the other slacks and the twin set for dinner tonight. It’ll seem strange eating without Joe and Bill here. Do you think the Fordyces will join us?”
“I doubt it,” Renie replied. “Mrs. Gibbs mentioned that they might drive into Inverness tonight. The lovely Beth wants to go to a jazz club. I’m kind of full. Will I be hungry by eight-thirty?”
“Probably,” Judith said. “It just drives me nuts that your metabolism lets you eat like Petunia Pig and you never gain an ounce while I constantly wage the weight battle.”
Renie shrugged. “It’s not my fault. My hair won’t turn gray, either.” She twirled a short strand of her chestnut curls. “Freak of nature, that’s me.”
Judith ignored the remark. “Did you find out how we’re going to get to Mass tomorrow?”
“Oh—yes,” Renie said. “I almost forgot. The castle’s original chapel is still in use because Philip is a Catholic. They row a priest from somewhere, usually around eleven.”
“Good.” Judith shook out the mid-calf skirt. “This is really handsome. The workmanship is excellent. Aren’t we lucky to end up in such a cool, interesting, and quiet place? I think I can hear the sea.”
Renie cocked her head to listen. But it wasn’t the sea she heard. A sudden loud noise shattered the peaceful evening.
“What was that?” she asked, jumping off the bed. “It sounded like an explosion.”
Judith and Renie went to the tall windows in the alcove.
“I only see water,” Judith said. “Was it inside the castle?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was fireworks.”
Judith suggested that they investigate from Renie’s room. “It overlooks the village.”
The cousins trooped across the hallway. Even from across the room, they could see an ominous glow outside. “A fire in the village?” Judith said as they approached the window embrasure.
Her guess was only partly accurate. The fire was on the beach where the high tide was beginning to ebb. Judith and Renie stared at the orange and red ball of flame.
“Isn’t that…” Judith began in a hushed voice, “where…?”
“I…think…so,” Renie said. “But,” she added quickly, “we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be just a bonfire. Maybe somebody threw a battery or an aerosol can into it. You know how they explode.”
“You’re right,” Judith said. She laughed, though the sound was jagged. “I’m so used to foul play that I assume…you know.”
“Right.” Renie’s smile was forced. “Who’d want to blow up Harry Gibbs’s car?”
6
The fire was burning brighter. Judith and Renie were transfixed. After a couple of minutes had passed, they could see figures running on the beach, coming from the direction of the castle and the village. Moments later, they saw the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle.
“It’s not just a bonfire,” Judith declared. “Something bad has happened. We should go downstairs and find out what’s going on.”
The cousins hurried out into the passageway. Judith stopped. “Maybe I should get my jacket, in case we go outside.”
“Where would we go?” Renie asked. “The tide’s st
ill partially in.”
“I’m getting my jacket anyway. This place is drafty, especially in the hallways.” With Renie trailing, Judith went into her room and opened the wardrobe where she’d hung her lightweight jacket. She was reaching for it when a curly head popped out between Joe’s sports coat and flannel slacks.
“Hallo!” cried Chuckie. “What went bang?”
Startled, Judith put a hand to her breast. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”
“I took a nap,” Chuckie replied, crawling out of the wardrobe. “So did you.”
Judith was flabbergasted. “You were here all the time?”
Chuckie brushed some lint from his corduroy pants. “Time? I don’t believe in time. What does it mean? It’s always passing.”
Renie looked as if she was about to pounce on Chuckie. “Why don’t you pass out of here? If your family owns this castle, your rooms must be somewhere else. Try to find them.”
Chuckie looked unperturbed. “Someday I’ll own all this. And more, when I marry my true love.” He grinned at Judith, skittered past Renie, and went out into the passageway.
“Really, really weird,” Renie murmured. “I hope he’s harmless.”
“Maybe he’s the voice I heard,” Judith said, putting on her jacket. “No—I heard it from your room, not ours. Let’s go.”
As they descended the winding staircase, they could hear voices. It took Judith a few seconds to realize that Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs were in the passageway near the foot of the steps.
“We must know!” Mrs. Gibbs cried, leaning against the stone wall for support. “I feel faint. It canna be!”
“Becalm yerself,” Gibbs exhorted. “We’ll hear soon enough.”
“But if…” Mrs. Gibbs began, and broke off.
“It should be Moira,” Gibbs said.
His wife didn’t respond but dabbed at her eyes with her apron. She finally looked up and saw the cousins.
Judith hesitated before approaching the distraught couple. “I’m very sorry,” she said, “but what’s happened?”
Gibbs set his face in stone. “We dinna ken. We must bide.”
“Bide for what?” Judith asked. “Can’t you call someone from St. Fergna? Like the police?”