by Mary Daheim
“Modern technology is amazing,” Judith said.
Kate agreed. “I have cameras as well. Much more convenient than the old methods one had to employ. So awkward drilling all those holes in walls when we lived in our previous house.”
“Ah…” Beth said quickly, “maybe I should help Una with the tea.”
“Of course,” Kate said with a fond smile. “You’re a good daughter. Children are a great comfort as we get older, are they not?”
Renie nodded. “But expensive.”
Kate waved a hand. “Why should they not be? How better to spend one’s money? Of course Beth married well. So did Frankie, though…” She paused and bit her lip. “He was a happy boy, more so than my other sons.” She tapped her gold amulet. “His picture is in this locket. It’s a talisman symbol, the Shri Yantra for luck, money, and success. The goddess of wealth, Mahalakshmi, resides in it.”
“We saw Frankie’s grave at the graveyard,” Judith said as perspiration began to drip down her forehead and neck. “Your husband’s, too. So many people buried there died young.”
“Master Wass foretold my husband’s death and the cause,” Kate said quietly. “I begged Eanruig not to hunt that day, but he ignored me. He often did,” she added bitterly. “A bullet went through his eye.”
“How awful!” Judith exclaimed, reaching for her purse, which seemed even heavier in the overheated sunroom. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her brow. “Was he shot by a stranger?”
“No, alas,” Kate replied. “His close friend, Gabe Montgomery, fired the gun by accident. It drove him mad. He’s been institutionalized.”
“A double tragedy,” Judith murmured, taking another swipe at her forehead. “How many children do you have, Mrs. Gunn?”
“Do call me Kate.” She smiled at Renie. “Serena does. I had difficulties conceiving in the early years of our marriage, but eventually I had ten. To my sorrow, Louie died young, even younger than Frankie. My twin daughters Joan and Vicki died at birth. I almost died, too.” She looked away as her eyes glistened with tears. “That’s why,” she said softly, “I’d do anything for the ones who are still with me.”
“Goodness,” Judith gasped, “you’ve had your share of troubles.”
“The world is a troubling place,” Kate murmured. “We merely pass through. Perhaps you noticed my other children buried near Frankie.”
“We didn’t read all the markers,” Judith admitted.
“I’ll take flowers this week,” Kate said, more to herself than to the cousins. “The past few days have distracted me.” She looked up. “Ah—here’s Beth. The silver service was made by Cellini. My mother was Italian.”
“It’s stunning,” Judith said, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.
“Ah,” Renie said weakly.
Judith realized that her cousin hadn’t uttered a peep in the last few minutes. One look at Renie told Judith why: she was sweating profusely and wore a dazed expression. The sunroom was exacting a high price on Renie, but there had to be a reason for her sacrifice.
“Lovely,” Judith declared as Beth poured tea and passed around the scones, butter, jam, and marmalade. “We’ve enjoyed your preserves at Grimloch. You must be very fond of your son-in-law Philip.”
“He’s an astute businessman,” Kate said. “Isn’t he, Beth?”
“Brilliant,” Beth said, passing the sugar, cream, and lemon. “He’s a workaholic. It’s very hard to get him to take an occasional break. I warn him to slow down. He’s reached a point in his life where he can well afford to enjoy himself. People aren’t going to stop drinking whiskey.”
Kate smirked. “Of course not. But your Philip needs to seek broader horizons. It’s what tells him he’s still alive.”
“Mummy…” Beth gave her mother a warning look.
“Yes, yes,” Kate said, holding up a hand. “I’ll be quiet.”
“You must show our guests some of your orchids before we go,” Beth said. “I should be getting back to Grimloch with Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones.”
“Of course,” Kate agreed, getting up. “Bear in mind, orchids don’t all bloom at the same time. There are basically two types…”
Holding their teacups, Judith and Renie followed Kate in a daze of heat and humidity. It was difficult to focus on the exotic blooms, despite their beauty. Ten minutes later, Judith felt as if she might pass out. Fortunately, Beth came to the rescue.
“Sorry about the tropical atmosphere,” she said after they got in the Daimler. “Mummy’s circulation is poor, so she doesn’t notice it, and I’ve spent so much time in Spain that I can tolerate it for a short while.”
“Your mother’s interesting,” Judith said. “She’s serious about the astrology thing, I gather.”
“Very,” Beth replied. “She got into it early on, when she was trying to get pregnant. I’ll admit some of the astrologers’ predictions have been rather uncanny.”
“I noticed,” Judith said, “you didn’t mention the dustup at Hollywood House.”
“What dustup?” Renie asked, still fanning herself with her hand.
“Later,” Judith murmured.
“Just as well I didn’t say anything about it,” Beth said, slowing for the turn to St. Fergna. “Mummy loves conflict. You’d have been in for endless speculation if I’d brought the subject up.”
“I see,” Judith said, though it occurred to her that Kate’s opinions might be interesting. “Beth, could you drop us off in the village? We have to change our money. We’ll call Gibbs later to collect us.”
“He should have his car back by midafternoon,” Beth said. “There’s the bank, just up ahead.”
“Great,” Judith said as Beth pulled into the car park. “Will you be around for dinner this evening?”
“I don’t know,” Beth replied, “it’s up to—” She was interrupted by a cell phone’s ring. “That’s mine. Go ahead, I should answer.”
Renie got out of the backseat, but Judith was still struggling with her heavy purse when she heard Beth let out a gasp.
“That’s daft!” she exclaimed. “What could Chuckie possibly know?”
Judith waited.
“I don’t believe it,” Beth declared. “He wants attention. I’ll be there shortly.” She rang off and looked at Judith. “That was Phil. Chuckie’s been sulking all day, so Phil finally tried to make up after their row yesterday. But that wasn’t why Chuckie was upset. The police haven’t interviewed him, and he wants to tell them he knows who killed Harry.”
What took so long?” Renie asked as Judith joined her by the bank entrance. “I thought you’d sweated so much you got glued to the seat.”
“I would’ve,” Judith replied, “if Beth hadn’t turned on the AC. Let’s go to the bank and then have lunch. It’s been quite a morning. Beth just heard from Philip saying that Chuckie knows who murdered Harry.”
Renie stopped on the cobblestones that led into the bank. “Who?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t think Philip knows. Chuckie wants to tell the police. Of course he may be fantasizing.”
Renie frowned. “I hope he tells what he knows to the right people.”
Judith nodded. “Yes. Otherwise he could put himself in danger.”
The cousins went into the bank. Neither knew exactly what to do when it was their turn in the short queue, but the clerk with the shaved head and goatee was patient and helpful. Twenty minutes later, Judith and Renie found a pub off the alley behind the bank. The Rood & Mitre was much quieter and more pleasant than the Yew and Eye.
At almost one o’clock, the pub was busy with customers. The decor was minimal but tasteful, mainly pen-and-ink drawings of local sights, including the castle. The cousins each ordered a glass of ale.
“No Old Engine Oil here,” Renie remarked. “I’m going to try the scampi and chips. They come with a salad.”
“I’m not very hungry after eating Kate’s scone,” Judith said. “I’ll get a prawn cocktail and a small salad.” She put the men
u aside. “Tell me what brought you to Kate’s house.”
“Boredom,” Renie replied. “Once I was awake, I realized there wasn’t much to do at the castle, and I didn’t want to run into Chuckie. Thus I was inspired to tackle Kate Gunn by using my special powers.”
“Dressed as a witch?” Judith said with a wry smile.
“Easy,” Renie replied. “I borrowed your cape and cackled a lot.” She hoisted the shopping bag she’d brought with her. “Your cape’s safe, except for some salt sprinklings. I stashed it by her front steps for easy retrieval. I poured the salt on the herb garden while uttering strange incantations that were actually the Notre Dame fight song.”
Judith shook her head in disbelief. “And she fell for it.”
“Sure,” Renie said. “She’s credulous enough to believe in astrology. I figured she’d bite like a cat gobbling a canary.”
“Some bright people take astrology seriously,” Judith pointed out.
“Oh, I know,” Renie explained, “but I had a feeling—not from my so-called special powers, but more from my gut—that Kate’s superstitious.”
“So what did you learn before I arrived? Or were you too busy filling your face with scones and jam?”
“I didn’t learn as much as I’d have liked,” Renie admitted. “She did talk more about Moira. I got the impression she appreciated Moira’s concern and affection for Frankie, but that mother-in-law and daughter-in-law weren’t close. When I mentioned we’d met Moira putting roses on Davey Piazza’s grave, Mrs. Gunn made a crack about Moira remembering her assistant with more fondness than she had for her first husband.”
Judith recalled that there weren’t any flowers where Frankie was buried. “He’s in the family plot with all those dead children and their father. Maybe Moira lets Kate take care of it.”
“Anyway,” Renie said, “my theory got shot all to hell.”
“What theory?” Judith asked.
“That Kate would do anything for her children—and even an ex-daughter-in-law,” Renie explained. “Especially if she wanted to marry Moira off to another one of her eligible sons.”
Judith grimaced. “You mean do anything like…murder?”
“I think Kate can be devious,” Renie said as a lad with shaggy magenta hair arrived to take their lunch order.
“Did you deduce that aspect of her character from the aura you sensed?” Judith inquired with a smirk.
“I deduced it from her spying devices around the house,” Renie replied. “Didn’t that set off some alarms in your brain?”
“Well…yes,” Judith replied. “I considered her a control freak.”
“It’s no wonder her other children don’t live at home,” Renie noted. “Two are at university, but the older three either live in the Glasgow family home or are on their own. Who’d want Mummy spying on them?”
“True.” Judith sipped her dark ale. It was quite bitter, but she’d drink it down. The half hour in the sunroom seemed to have dehydrated her. “Let me tell you what happened at Hollywood House.”
“I’m agog,” Renie said. “Go for it.”
The cousins were halfway through their meal before Judith finally finished. Renie was intrigued. “Wish I hadn’t missed all that,” she said. “Especially the part where you threw your purse at Seumas Bell.”
“That reminds me,” Judith said, “I must’ve overloaded my purse this morning. It feels like it weighs ten pounds.”
“Mine does,” Renie asserted. “I weighed it at the airport. Of course I still had a pint of Wild Turkey in it then.”
“You would. I’m sure it was empty by the time we reached thirty thousand feet.” She hauled her purse onto her lap. “When I travel, I tend to toss in things I might need during the—” She stopped as she felt something cold, hard, and unfamiliar. “There’s a…box or…what is this?” She removed a round, footed silver case embossed with gold rose petals and leaves. “Where did this come from?”
Renie stared at the elegant box. “You stole it?”
“Don’t be cute,” Judith said, trying to open the case. “Honestly, I swear it wasn’t in my purse when I left Grimloch this morning.”
“Where did you leave your purse unattended?”
Judith was still struggling to unfasten the case. “Let me think…At Hollywood House. I left it in Moira’s sitting room while I was talking to MacRae. Ah!” The clasp finally gave and the lid snapped open. To Judith’s surprise, there were no glittering jewels inside the velvet-lined box. “It looks like a bunch of paper.”
Renie put out a hand. “Let’s see.”
There were at least a half dozen sheets of paper stuffed inside. Judith handed three of them to Renie and kept the rest for herself.
“Emails,” Renie said. “Who saves email printouts?”
Judith scanned the first two. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. These are love letters. That is, love emails.”
Renie sighed. “There goes romance.” She read through the pages Judith had given her. “You’re right. No actual dates, headings, or to-and-from names. Very fragmentary,” she noted between bites of scampi. “Sign-offs like ‘Yours forever’ and ‘Always together.’ Gack.”
Judith’s eyes widened as she read through the emails she’d kept. “Good Lord! This sounds compromising!” She glanced around the pub to see if anyone was paying attention to the cousins. The other customers seemed involved with their own conversations and meals. Judith lowered her voice anyway. “Listen to this—‘Darling—It won’t be long now. I’m counting the hours until we’re together. Just remember, once my problem is solved, nothing stands in our way. All my love goes with you.’ What does that sound like?”
Renie scratched her head. “Well…I realize you’re putting it in context. It could be Moira, writing to Patrick.”
Judith regarded Renie with skepticism. “The only place these emails could’ve gotten into my purse was at Hollywood House. I’ve seen Moira’s maid. I know you can’t always go by looks, but she’s not the romantic type. And you’ve met Fergus. He doesn’t cut a dashing figure, either.”
“Right.” Renie looked glum. “These emails look bad for Moira and—I assume—Patrick. Here’s another one. ‘I’m making an early night of it and going to bed. Wish you were with me. The sun is setting, but it always shines when we’re together.’ And how about this? ‘Your days are so full and my arms are so empty. I kiss the sprig of heather you gave me, knowing that though it is the last of the season and will wither and fade, our love will not.’ Double gack.”
Judith shook her head. “It’s a wonder we’re not gagging on our food. But how did these emails end up in my purse?” She put her napkin on the table. “Let’s call Gibbs to have him pick us up. I’m very curious about Chuckie.”
Renie polished off the last of her chips. “I can use my cell phone. What are you going to do with those emails?”
“I should turn them over to MacRae along with the silver case. It may be an heirloom,” Judith replied, “but I’d like to find out if my purse was a convenient stash or I’m being used.” She signaled to their server to bring the bill.
Renie had called Gibbs to tell him where they were. “Shall we meet you on the High Street?” she asked.
Judith waited for Renie to speak again. Their server nodded, and apparently went to fetch the bill.
“Okay,” Renie said into the phone. “We know where it is. See you there.” She rang off. “He has to collect his car from the mechanic. We’ll meet him at Archie Morton’s garage. It’s only a short walk from here off the beach road.”
Five minutes later, the cousins were walking down the High Street. Fluffy clouds flitted across the sun as a fitful breeze blew off of the sea. As they reached the end of the main thoroughfare, Judith glanced to her right at the cottage called The Hermitage.
“I don’t see a car parked there,” she said. “Patrick must own that red BMW sports model. Maybe he’s still comforting Moira.”
“I’m not convinced she need
s comforting,” Renie remarked. “On the other hand, define ‘comfort.’”
As usual, traffic was sparse on the beach road. The gawkers who had ringed the cliff in the aftermath of Harry’s death had gone to ground. So, apparently, had the media. The only people the cousins saw as they walked toward Morton’s Auto Repair were two teenage boys, taking a breather from their bicycles and resting alongside the road.
“Gibbs isn’t on the beach,” Judith noted as they espied the garage’s office entrance. “Maybe he’s already here.”
The only person in the small, cluttered office was the brawny man who resembled Jocko Morton. “Are you Archie?” Judith inquired politely.
“Aye.” He frowned at her from under dark, bushy eyebrows. “What if I am? And ye are…?”
“The Queen of Sheba,” Renie snapped, apparently not taking a liking to the man’s attitude. “We’re here to meet Gibbs from Grimloch.” She grinned and looked at Judith. “Hey—I like that. ‘Gibbs from Grimloch.’ What do you think, coz? Could this be ‘Archie of Aberdeen’?”
Embarrassed, Judith stared at her shoes. “Ask him.”
“Okay, Arch, ol’ bud,” Renie said, “where’s Gibbs?”
“Gibbs isn’t here,” Archie replied, still frowning. “King Solomon’s not here, either. Why don’t you push off?”
“Why,” Renie retorted, “don’t you f—”
Judith swiftly put a hand over Renie’s mouth. “Sorry, Mr. Morton. My cousin’s…drunk.” She winced as Renie bit her. “We’ll wait outside.”
“Good idea,” Archie muttered.
Judith literally dragged Renie outside. “What got into you?” she demanded.
Renie’s brown eyes spit fire. “I don’t trust that guy. He’s not a mechanic. He doesn’t have dirt under his fingernails.”
“Oh, for—” Judith held her head. “He owns the shop. He probably has mechanics working for him.”
“He has pig eyes,” Renie said. “Just like his brother Jocko.”
“Forget it,” Judith said. “You can’t antagonize everyone in the village. You’re damned lucky Kate Gunn forgave you.”