Scots on the Rocks

by Mary Daheim

  “I still don’t understand,” Judith put in.

  “I’m getting to that,” Kate said, adding the last paper clip in the box. “As a wedding present, Moira gave Beth some shares of Blackwell. Moira and Beth and Marie were so close, like sisters—and, of course, when Moira married Frankie, she and Beth became sisters-in-law. I won’t say that Moira and I had a loving relationship, but I appreciated her care for Frankie, who was never physically strong. Strangely enough,” Kate continued, almost as if musing to herself, “when Marie married Will Fleming, Moira didn’t attend the wedding, and gave them a rather ugly vase.”

  “No stock?” Renie asked.

  Kate shook her head. “There was a falling-out between Moira and Marie for a time. I don’t think Moira cared for Will or trusted him. Recently, they’ve all made up. But Moira’s most significant lack of generosity was her refusal to give Harry any Blackwell shares when she married him. Naturally, he was resentful. The company is in turmoil, possibly because Jocko Morton had been up to no good. Moira has been indifferent, but she’s never had a head for business—which is why Philip and I want to buy the company from her.”

  “Wow!” Renie exclaimed softly. “That’s quite an acquisition.”

  “Yes,” Kate agreed. “But we can manage it financially. My own family is very wealthy—banking, mainly. Now that Harry’s dead, the real obstacle is Jimmy Blackwell. I wouldn’t put it past him to harm Moira and prevent Philip and me from buying her out. Jimmy is power-mad.”

  “Do you think he killed Harry?” Judith asked.

  Kate held up the paper-clip chain, which she’d fashioned into a loop with a dangling tail. “Perhaps. That’s not important to me at the moment. Jimmy must go.” She dangled the paper clips from her fingers. They reminded Judith of a rosary.

  Or a noose.

  Judith still didn’t understand why Kate Gunn had unburdened herself so frankly.

  “Kate,” Judith began, “why are you telling us all this?”

  Kate put the paper-clip chain aside. “I have my sources of information. I’m aware of who you really are. That’s why I know you have ways to help me solve my problem with Jimmy.” Kate’s eyes sparkled with apparent excitement. “You’re CIA.”

  “What?” Judith gasped.

  “There’s no need to pretend,” Kate asserted. “My source is above reproach. Let’s say that the law is on my side.”

  Judith was so flabbergasted she couldn’t speak.

  Renie looked a bit dazed, but recovered quickly. “You’re talking about a covert operation,” she said to Kate. “We need information about Jimmy’s habits, schedule, and so on. We also need lunch. Judith and I will give our orders to Ian. What would you like?”

  “Ah…” It was Kate’s turn to look taken aback. “A sandwich. Fish paste will do.”

  “Fine.” Renie got up and hauled Judith out of the chair. “Let’s go. I feel like a burger.”

  “You act like an idiot!” Judith hissed as soon as the cousins were in the corridor. “Why in the world are you stringing Kate along? And where did she hear that we’re a couple of spies?”

  “Listen,” Renie said, deadly serious. “Kate’s got spy-holes all over the place. I’ll bet she’s got the cops bugged somehow. Maybe she overheard MacRae and Ogilvie talking about your detection skills. Or,” she added a bit uncertainly, “they also think you’re from the CIA.”

  “They’ve never actually mentioned the FATSO web site,” Judith said. “It’s possible they’re confused, too.”

  “Then make the most of it,” Renie said. “Kate probably knows more about what’s going on than the cops do. Let’s find out.”

  “Brilliant,” Judith said as they went down the hall. “I think.”

  Renie sought out Ian while Judith poked her head into the kitchen. “Grizel?”

  Ian’s mother looked up from the grill. “Ah! I hear there’s a meeting in the back room. What’s Mrs. Gunn up to now?”

  “A few tricks,” Judith said, offering Grizel a confidential smile. “You know her. Who’d resist an occasional peek in that spy-hole?”

  Grizel laughed softly. “Only when I’m not busy.”

  “Did David Piazza ever come here?”

  Grizel flipped rashers of bacon on the grill. “Aye, often. A charmer, he was. Clever, I have to think. Come up in the world, did Davey. He came to this country with nothing, worked at Tonio’s, and the next thing we know, he’s got an important post with Moira Blackwell. Imagine! And him not knowing the language all that well.”

  “Sounds like home,” Judith murmured, recalling the temporary mailman on the Heraldsgate Hill route who couldn’t read English.

  Grizel was studying a new order. “Fish paste sandwich and two burgers,” she noted. “Mrs. G must want the fish paste—nobody else ever does. Are the burgers yours?”

  “Yes,” Judith answered. “I can wait and save you a trip.”

  “Ian will do it,” Grizel said.

  Judith thanked Grizel and went back to the office. To her surprise, Renie was standing by the open door. “The hen flew the coop.”

  Judith looked into the cramped office. “Did you see her leave?”

  Renie shook her head and pointed to a door marked exit. “It leads to a path that ends at Patrick Cameron’s cottage.”

  Judith was mystified. “Why? I thought Kate wanted our help.”

  “Somebody called on her cell phone?” Renie suggested.

  Judith opened the door. The dirt path ran behind two smaller buildings before abutting Patrick’s property. “I wonder if he’s there.”

  “Do we find out?” Renie asked.

  “Are you really hungry?”

  “No. I’m still too worried about our guys.”

  Judith went into the office, wrote a brief note to Ian explaining their hasty departure, and left twenty pounds on the desk.

  “Since when,” Renie inquired as they walked along the narrow path, “did we get stupid? This could be a trap.”

  “Why? There’s no reason for Kate to harm us,” Judith replied.

  “The trap might be for Kate. Maybe she knows too much.”

  “Kate can take care of herself,” Judith said, opening a gate in the hedge that went around the cottage. “Let’s try the back way.”

  Her knock drew no response. “We’ll try the front,” Judith said.

  The result was also futile, and there was no sign of Patrick’s car. “I’m stymied,” Judith admitted. “I assume Kate drove to the village, but we’ve no idea what she drives. Now what?”

  Her cell phone rang. Hurriedly, she took it out of her purse.

  “MacRae here,” he said. “I’ve good news. MacGowan sent us a text message saying they’d found a hot spot on the Findhorn and changed their plans. They’ll be in touch.”

  “Oh!” Judith exclaimed. “That’s a relief! I’ll tell my cousin they’re safe. Thanks so much.” She rang off.

  “So we’re not widows after all?” Renie said with a big grin.

  “No, thank heavens,” Judith replied, putting the cell back in her purse. “So where is Kate? And where is Patrick?”

  Part of the answer came in the form of Barry, driving his rattletrap car down the High Street. “Hullo!” he called. “Busy time. Lunch hour.” Brakes squealing like so many piglets, he managed to stop just short of Patrick’s fence. “He’s not home.”

  “How do you know?” Judith inquired, moving cautiously toward the unpredictable vehicle.

  “Because he’s at Hollywood House, giving a press conference,” Barry replied. “I just came from there. Those reporters like pizza.”

  “What kind of press conference?” Judith asked, one eye on the Bruce, who was nibbling on pepperoni in what was left of the backseat.

  “Oh—you know,” Barry said vaguely. “The reporters all ask questions at once, and the nob who’s behind the mike goes blahblah and never really answers.”

  “Patrick must have had a reason for calling the press conference,” Judith asserte
d. “Do you remember anything he said?”

  The hamster had polished off the pepperoni and was nibbling on a much-abused suede jacket.

  “The Bruce is eating your outerwear,” Renie said. “Do you mind?”

  Barry turned around to look into the backseat. “Nae, he likes it better than I do. It’s too short in the sleeves for me.”

  “It’s getting shorter,” Renie noted. “That’s the part he’s chewing.”

  Barry shrugged. “It came cheap, being second—” He stopped and snapped his fingers. “Now I remember. Patrick was talking about Davey Piazza. That’s who the jacket belonged to before it was sent to the thrift shop. Patrick claimed that Davey’s accident wasn’t.”

  “Wasn’t an accident?” Judith said.

  “Right. Patrick told the reporters that if they wanted to find out who killed Harry they should go after whoever made Davey’s car crash.” Barry tapped the padded container next to him in the front seat. “Sorry. Got two more pizza deliveries—the post office and the auto repair.”

  The cousins gave Barry and his car a wide berth. After a couple of false starts, the engine caught and he rattled off toward Archie’s garage.

  Judith was silent for a few moments. “Davey’s death has always struck me as a little too convenient.”

  “His rise and fall seem odd,” Renie agreed. “It’s not as if someone immigrating to a new country doesn’t have to take a menial job for starters, but they usually spend a long time working their way up. Davey fell into the cream awfully fast.”

  Judith nodded. “Moira didn’t hire him for his ability to toss pizza dough. Her habit of falling in love indicates she was thinking with the wrong part of her anatomy.” She paused, shielding her eyes from the midday sun. “This is starting to make sense. I think.”

  “Ah.” Renie smiled. “Your customary logic has kicked in.”

  Judith shrugged. “I don’t understand big business, but I know people. There aren’t many motives for cold-blooded murder, but jealousy is a big one.” She gazed toward the sea where the sun glinted off of the incoming waves. “There are plenty of reasons for envy with this bunch. You might say,” she said wryly, “we’ve got too much of a bad thing.”

  For once, Judith was walking so fast Renie had to hurry to catch up with her. “Where are we going?” she demanded as Judith crossed the High Street and headed for the coast road.

  “Hollywood House,” Judith called over her shoulder. “But we need transport. Maybe Barry’s still at Morton’s garage.”

  As soon as the cousins reached the auto shop, they saw Barry’s beater parked in front of Archie Morton’s office. Judith suggested that they wait outside.

  “Why?” Renie said. “Another rumpus with Archie might be fun.”

  “Not for me,” Judith declared. “You’re getting ornerier as you grow older. I refuse to spend my twilight years with you in a nursing home. You’d probably get tossed anyway for outrageous brutality.”

  “I’m learning how your mother drives that wheelchair,” Renie said. “She’s got some great moves. She should be licensed to kill.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Judith said, and winced. “I shouldn’t have moved so fast. Now I feel wobbly.”

  Barry and Archie came out of the office. They seemed to be arguing, but Judith couldn’t hear what they were saying. Barry finally shrugged and stalked back to the car. He didn’t seem surprised to see the cousins.

  “Poor tipper?” Renie inquired.

  “No tipper at all,” Barry replied, still annoyed. “He says all his expenses at the garage go into the computer and he can’t figure in tips. That’s bosh. I had two pizzas, one for Archie and one for his main mechanic. Rob’s a good lad, always gives me a quid. But Archie wouldn’t let me take Rob’s pizza to the back shop like I do usually. Just mean, that’s Archie Morton.”

  “We didn’t have computers when I worked at the Meat & Mingle years ago,” Judith said. “We were lucky to have a cash register. If the help wanted to get paid, they had to roll the drunks when they fell off of the—” She stopped. “Never mind. I just had the strangest thought.”

  “What?” Renie asked sharply.

  Judith shook her head. “It was silly.” But she was suddenly worried, though she tried to hide her concern from Renie and Barry.

  “Last stop,” he announced. “Uh…Do you want a lift?”

  “Yes,” Judith said quickly. “That’s why we’re here. After your post office stop, can you take us to Hollywood House?”

  Barry considered briefly. “I suppose. No more deliveries just now.”

  Judith got in the front seat, grateful that the door had been reattached to the passenger side; Renie again sat with The Bruce in back. “Sleeve’s gone,” she said as the car went forward with a loud ka-pock-eta-ka-pock-eta sound. “He’s going for the silk lining and the inside pocket. Won’t he get indigestion?”

  “Maybe,” Barry warned. “Better move. He may toss up the suede.”

  “We’ll buy you a replacement jacket,” Judith said, “to thank you.”

  “Nae.” Barry chuckled, heading up the High Street. “It’s been jolly. Most of it, anyway.”

  “I mean it,” Judith insisted. “You’re a good guy. Lad, that is.”

  The post office was two doors down from the confectioner’s. Barry double-parked and zipped inside. Renie tapped Judith’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? I can tell you’re upset. You’re making rash and expensive promises.”

  “I’m serious about the jacket,” Judith replied, turning to look at Renie. “We owe Barry. But you’re right. It’s probably a stupid notion, but suddenly I got the feeling that Joe and Bill aren’t safe. In fact, I think I know where they are, and I’m certain they’re in grave danger. The question is, how do we rescue them?”

  21

  Renie looked dubious. “Now you have the sight?”

  “No,” Judith said. “But I remembered something after Barry mentioned Archie’s computer. When Joe was telling me about Hugh MacGowan, he—” She stopped as Barry raced out of the post office.

  “Big news!” he cried, jumping into the car. “Patrick’s been arrested!”

  “For what?” Judith asked.

  “Murder,” Barry replied excitedly. “Imagine! Patrick killed Harry!”

  “Maybe,” Judith said softly. “Where did they arrest him?”

  “Hollywood House, after the press conference,” Barry replied. “Still want to go there?”

  Judith’s thought process was hampered by her concern for Joe and Bill. “I don’t know…Maybe we should go to the Hearth and Heath.”

  “The inn?” Barry sounded puzzled. “Oh—because that’s where the coppers are staying?”

  “Yes,” Judith said as horns honked behind them. “They’d take him there for questioning instead of to Inverness or Elgin. Do you have a jail in St. Fergna?”

  A half dozen vehicles now clogged the High Street. Barry started the car, ignoring the honks and shouts of the impatient drivers. “Nae. No need. The nearest jail is only seven kilometers from here.”

  The minor traffic jam didn’t abate after they reached the village green and made a right turn. It appeared that the media had followed Patrick and his captors from Hollywood House. Their vans and cars and trucks blocked the narrow road as they tried to find parking places.

  “Now what?” Barry said, mildly exasperated.

  “We can walk,” Judith said. “I think.”

  “Well…” Barry snapped his fingers. “I know a shortcut. Hang on.” He hit the gas and took a sharp left, driving across the green, beyond the bandstand and onto a rough dirt path that ran behind the Women’s Institute. The old car bounced and thumped, causing Judith and Renie to grit their teeth and try to stay upright.

  “The Bruce is getting carsick!” Renie shouted. “So am I!”

  “Almost there!” Barry took another turn onto a grassy area partially surrounded by shrubbery growing in front of a brick wall. “Back of the inn,” he said, coming to
a jarring stop just short of a leggy rhododendron. “There’s a gate at the end of the wall.”

  “Not locked, I hope,” Judith said.

  “Nae,” Barry assured her. “We dinna have much crime here.”

  “Really?” Renie said dryly.

  Barry looked rueful. “Well…not until lately.”

  Judith was trying to open the car door. “It’s jammed,” she said.

  “Pull up the string on the handle,” he advised.

  Judith complied; the door opened. “Are you coming with us?” she asked Barry.

  “Nae,” he replied. “I should get back to Tonio’s.”

  Renie was already out of the car, holding Barry’s tattered jacket. Judith eyed her cousin curiously. “Why did you take that?”

  “For comparison shopping,” Renie said. “You told Barry you were going to replace it. This is—was—real quality. I assume you don’t want to buy a cut-rate item.”

  “True,” Judith responded, keeping an eye on Barry’s efforts to back the car away from the grassy area. “At the moment, all I want to do is talk to MacRae about our husbands.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Renie said, marching to the end of the brick wall.

  The iron gate was unlocked and led to a narrow brick path between the inn’s garden and the main building. Renie stopped at what Judith assumed was the service entrance. She didn’t bother to knock, but turned the knob. The door opened easily.

  “So far so good,” Renie murmured. “The innkeeper must be your kind of person—an open-door policy during the day.”

  They had entered a small hallway that went into the kitchen. Ordinarily, Judith would have paused to study the layout and compare it with her own at Hillside Manor. But not now, not when her priority was finding Joe and Bill.

  The cousins entered the dining room, which was empty though it appeared that the big oval table was being prepared for the afternoon tea. Reaching the parlor, they heard loud voices that sounded as if they were coming from in front of the inn.