by Amy M. Reade
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“Before he went on sabbatical, he told me he had given some thought to moving in with her. I was pretty sure they were going to reconcile.“You want to know my opinion? They were made for each other. When they divorced, neither one could find someone who lived up to the other’s memory, so neither one found love again.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is. Hagen, I think, was willing to scale back at work just as Thea was reaching the end of her childbearing years. They reached the decision that although they simply weren’t meant to have children, they could spend the rest of their years together happily.”
“So what happened?”
“Hagen hasn’t said why he took a sabbatical, but it’s my opinion that he wanted one last chance to think everything through before marrying Thea again. He has a sister who didn’t approve—she said Thea had hurt Hagen too deeply when she left him—and I think he wanted to affirm his own feelings for Thea.
“So he left town. No one knew where he had gone, including Thea. At least that’s what she told people. She may have known exactly where he was, but she wasn’t telling anyone.
“And then she was killed whilst he was away. The police haven’t released any information about the crime, but Hagen said she was stabbed. That’s a very personal crime.”
“Did Hagen say why he was in the woods, so close to the place where Florian died, or why he asked me about the painting? It seems that he wouldn’t be focused on those things if his goal really was to get back to nature and do some serious thinking about his relationship with Thea.”
I could almost hear her shrugging. “I can’t explain that. Maybe he got tired of thinking about marrying Thea and wanted to focus on something else.”
“How was he doing when you talked to him?”
“He was in pretty bad shape. Crying, snuffling, you know.”
“I would cry and snuffle, too, if my maybe-almost-fiancée was murdered.” I paused, then asked, “So who do the police think killed Thea?”
“They’re not saying. They told Hagen they’re working on a couple leads, but no one is in custody and no one besides Hagen has been questioned as a possible suspect.”
“Is Hagen definitely off the hook?”
“No. They told him to stay in London. He doesn’t have an alibi because he was off by himself in the woods, so I’m sure they’re still looking at him.”
“What do you think happened? I mean, you’ve talked to him. Do you have a feel for what went on?”
“I really don’t. He and Thea were getting along so well, at least according to him. It doesn’t seem like he would do anything to hurt her.”
“Well, someone did.”
“Do you think it was Hagen?” Chloe asked, her voice hushed.
“I don’t know. Like you said, stabbing is a personal crime. They say that stabbings happen between people who know each other very well. But aside from that, Hagen is the one person with ties to both Florian’s death and Thea’s death. Of course, it’s also possible that he’s the unluckiest man in the world and the two events have nothing to do with each other.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” Chloe said.
We rang off and I sat lost in thought. Was there a connection between Florian’s death and Thea’s? Hagen was the only person who could connect the two crimes. But what did Thea have to do with the Leitch painting?
Or maybe Hagen was just unstable. I hadn’t considered that possibility. He definitely hadn’t seemed stable when I saw him in the woods by Cauld Loch. But he was a professor and an important person in London’s art scene. How could someone who was so smart and so successful come undone so spectacularly?
But why would someone who was so smart and so successful leave London’s art scene for the forests and lochs of the Highlands if he didn’t have something to hide?
CHAPTER 17
The days lapsed into a routine that was both comfortable and uneasy at the same time. Seamus would come to the studio early in the morning and work all day. Eilidh continued to work at the shop, with Callum’s blessing. I worked on my photography and ventured out to take more photographs of the ever-changing Highland vistas during the brilliantly colored autumn. Seamus demanded that someone accompany me on my photo excursions, so I took Eilidh and left him in charge of the shop. Eilidh liked to suggest places we could visit to take photos.
But there was no change between Seamus and me. I let him in every morning and locked the door behind him every night, but I wouldn’t let him stay at Gorse Brae. I think he worried that I was in the house by myself at night, but I was careful about checking the locks and closing the blinds after he left. I always left a lamp on in the living room while I slept. It made me feel safer, even if it was just my imagination. I was becoming more accustomed to being by myself, and it was an empowering feeling, especially given the events that had occurred at Gorse Brae since the spring.
But one night all that changed. There was a call on my mobile phone. I answered it without looking at the caller ID, then immediately regretted it when I heard a crackling voice on the other end.
“Sylvie, I’m coming for you,” the voice said. I couldn’t tell if I was listening to a man or a woman. Whoever it was had disguised his or her voice.
“Why?” I asked, my own voice an octave higher than normal. I should have turned the phone off immediately, but I didn’t. I engaged the person, which was the worst thing I could have done.
“You know why,” the voice said.
“No I don’t,” I answered.
“The painting. You have it. I want it.”
“I don’t have the painting! I promise!” I screeched into the phone.
The person hung up. I was trembling and sweating. My heart beat so fast I thought I might die of fright before I could get help. My first reaction was to call Seamus.
“Hullo?” he answered.
“Seamus, it’s me. Someone just called and said they were coming for me and I don’t know what to do. I need help. Can you come over?”
“Hold on,” he said. “I can’t understand you. Tell me again, but slower this time. What happened?”
I took a deep breath. “Someone just called. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The person said they’re coming for me because they think I have that stupid painting.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No. I called you first.”
“You call the police. I’ll be over as soon as I can. And try to find out the number the person called from.”
I hung up and phoned the police. When I explained what had happened, they promised to send someone over as quickly as possible. I tried to figure out who called by punching numbers into the phone, but the caller had blocked all identification. I turned on every light in the house and sat on the sofa to wait for Seamus.
I only had to wait a couple minutes. He banged on the door, making me jump, and I ran to open it. When he swept into the room he locked the door behind him and wrapped me in a big hug. I wept into his chest as he smoothed my hair, not saying a word.
“I’m so scared, Seamus. I wish we had never seen that painting. It’s brought us nothing but danger and stress,” I cried.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise,” he said.
“It’s got to be Alice. Or Hagen. They’ve both expressed an obsessive interest in that painting.”
“You’re probably right. We’ll send the police looking for both of them when they get here.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded on the front door.
“Stay here,” Seamus instructed me.
He walked to the front door and peered out the window before unlocking it and admitting two police officers into the house. They introduced themselves and listened, taking notes all the while, as I told the story of the phone call.
Then they asked questions of me and Seamus. We had to tell them we had been living apart, which increased my worry that the
y would think Seamus was behind the incident. Would they think he had done this to force me to ask him to come back and live at Gorse Brae? Would they wonder about his time in prison and assume he hadn’t changed his stripes, that he was capable of doing me harm? Because I knew none of that was true, and I was prepared to argue the point with them all night if necessary.
But their questions didn’t focus on Seamus. When we told them about Hagen and Alice, they promised to investigate both of them. They found it especially interesting that Hagen was currently under police orders not to leave London due to his possible role in a murder investigation. They noted that the caller had blocked his or her number from identification and said they would try to get around the blockage and figure out the source of the call. “We’ll have our counterparts in London look up both Alice and Hagen, and we’ll get back to you with any information they’re able to gather. In the meantime, I suggest you install an alarm system,” one of the officers cautioned.
I looked at Seamus. No one in Cauld Loch had an alarm system. Nothing ever happened in the village. That is, until it was discovered that Seamus had the Leitch painting in his shop. But as much as I hated the idea of getting an alarm system, I knew it was necessary. We didn’t have to use it once Florian’s killer, and possibly Thea’s, had been caught.
After the police left, with assurances that they would be in touch soon, Seamus and I sat down at the kitchen table. I made tea and we talked about the phone call.
“I don’t think you should be here alone,” Seamus said. “I know you don’t want me here right now, but I don’t really believe you have an option.”
“What about the alarm system? If someone can install one in the next day or two, then I should be fine, right?” I asked.
“We can check on that first thing in the morning. For tonight, though, will you please let me stay here? I won’t sleep if I’m at Eilidh’s wondering if you’re all right. I’ll sleep in the guest room or on the sofa.”
I was torn. I wasn’t ready for him to come home, but I was scared to be alone. In the end, my fear won and I found myself agreeing to let him stay in the guest room. He still had plenty of clothes at the cottage, so he didn’t have to fetch anything from Eilidh’s. I called her to let her know that Seamus was spending the night.
“Really?” she squealed. “That’s great news!”
“Easy, Eilidh. It’s not what you think. He’s staying here so the lunatic who rang me up and threatened me doesn’t break in whilst I’m sleeping.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow morning.” I hung up with a yawn. My exhaustion proved to be a blessing in disguise—normally I wouldn’t have been able to sleep after such a terrifying experience, but I was so tired that I thought I might just be able to get some rest.
Having Seamus sleeping in the next room did indeed prove to be a balm for my nerves—I slept soundly. When the alarm went off in the morning, he was already in the kitchen making breakfast. The tea was ready.
“Wow. Thanks for doing this. Did you get any sleep?” I greeted him.
“A little,” he answered, stirring a pot on the stove. “Want porridge?”
“Mmm,” I nodded. I accepted a bowl of the steaming cereal and got cream and berries from the refrigerator. We ate without many words. I was suddenly shy and didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to talk about him moving back yet, and I was afraid that was what he was waiting for.
Finally he spoke. “Are you going to call an alarm company this morning, or do you want me to do it?”
“I’ll do it,” I said.
After breakfast I did the dishes and Seamus went to Eilidh’s to shower and change his clothes. He and Eilidh arrived at the shop together not long after that.
“Seamus told me everything,” Eilidh greeted me, giving me a hug. “I can’t wait until this whole thing is over. They just have to catch the person who’s doing these things to you. I mean, we know Alice was here and we know Hagen was here, but we don’t know who rang you up last night or who attacked you. I’m scared for you, Sylvie. Maybe you should come stay at my house, too.”
“I don’t think I need to do anything as drastic as move out to hide from someone. I’m going to ring up an alarm company in just a minute and get someone over here right away.”
Eilidh gave me a worried look and turned to Seamus. “Seamus, do you agree with me?”
“Och, I’m staying out of that conversation. I’ve learned a thing or two about women lately.” He smiled and shook his head. For the first time in a long while, I smiled back at him.
Eilidh went to work in the shop and I found an alarm company with good reviews online. When I talked to the manager, he promised to send a team over in a few hours to have a look at the cottage.
When the men arrived, they quickly surveyed the cottage, the wiring, and the windows and doors, then pronounced Gorse Brae an easy job. And better still, they were able to start that afternoon. I was relieved and asked them to get to work right away.
When they left for the day, they promised to be back in the morning to finish up the job. I felt suddenly nervous about spending the night alone before the alarm was completely installed. Seamus must have sensed that I was anxious, because he came up behind me in the studio and tapped me on the shoulder at the end of the day.
“Sylvie? You okay?”
I jumped at his touch, then smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry. You startled me. I guess I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. I can hear it in your voice. Do you want me to stay one more night, until the alarm is fully installed?”
I took a deep breath. “Do you mind? I’m sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable staying here by myself without an alarm.”
“Sure, I’ll stay. I’ll grab dinner at Eilidh’s and then I’ll be back.”
Part of me—my heart, I think—wanted to stop him, to ask him to have dinner with me. But my brain let him go. We weren’t ready to take the next step, and I didn’t want to encourage him. I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and waited impatiently for him to get back. When he arrived we watched television for a while before I went into the bedroom to read before going to sleep. When I told him goodnight he gave me a hug and kissed my forehead, telling me not to worry, that I was safe for the night. There was a question in his eyes, but I just couldn’t let him sleep with me in the bedroom.
“Seamus, we can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “Och, it was worth a try. I’ll wait.” He chucked me on the chin and unbidden tears sprang to my eyes at his familiar gesture. I blinked them away rapidly.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For understanding that we still need some time before we’re ready to act like married people again.”
He smiled and I went into the bedroom.
The men from the alarm company were back first thing the next morning. They finished the installation before lunchtime. What a relief it was to see the little electronic box attached to the wall, ready to alert me if anyone who didn’t belong tried to enter Gorse Brae. I almost looked forward to bedtime so I could try it out.
And indeed, I slept well that night. Seamus had returned to Eilidh’s and I was alone. I armed the windows and doors and sat on the sofa reading a book, not worrying about anything outside the walls of my house.
But reality encroached the next morning when Chloe rang me up. “They’ve arrested Hagen for Thea’s murder,” she said.
I gasped. “You’re kidding. Even though it seems logical, I still can’t believe it.”
“They went to his house last night to arrest him. Came flying down his street with lights flashing and everything. It was late, but they created enough of a ruckus to alert the neighbors and everyone watched the whole thing from their front doors. I feel sorry for Hagen. I still can’t picture him doing something like that.”
I didn’t s
ay anything, but I could picture it, given how he looked and his state of mind when I saw him in the woods by Cauld Loch.
“Have you been to see him?” I asked.
“Not yet, but I think I’ll be allowed to go in later today.”
“Let me know when you’ve talked to him. I’d like to hear what he has to say.” I wanted to ask her to question him about his trip to Cauld Loch and his insistence on knowing more about the Leitch painting, but I felt that would be asking too much. Better to wait and see what he wanted to talk about, then ask her to follow up if necessary.
When she called me later, I could tell from the tone of her voice that she had been disheartened by her visit with Hagen.
“So what happened?” I asked.
“He’s in a cell with the most disreputable looking people” she began, probably forgetting that Seamus had been in jail at one time. “He’s sad and angry. He swears he didn’t kill Thea.”
I was caught between wanting to soothe Chloe’s nerves and wanting to point out to her that the police wouldn’t have arrested Hagen without a strong suspicion that he killed Thea.
“Did the police have anything to say?”
“No, they wouldn’t talk to me. But Hagen said they told him Thea’s house showed no sign of a break-in and she clearly knew her killer. I guess we already figured that, since we knew Thea died from a stabbing.”
“Unfortunately, Hagen fits those criteria,” I said. “He probably had easy access to Thea’s house, and he obviously knew her very well.”
“That’s true. But he’s an art professor, for God’s sake. How could he do something like this? He’s so mild-mannered.”
My mind reached back to the night Florian was killed. Indeed, Hagen had seemed unperturbed at the prospect of having lost the painting to another bidder. But was his calm a mask for anger and the desire for revenge? Or the desire to obtain the painting at all costs? It was possible that Hagen himself had the painting and that he came to Cauld Loch under the guise of looking for it, with the intention of throwing suspicion away from himself.
There was no telling how much that painting, with its storied history and hidden map, might be worth. And there was no telling how much the jewels themselves might be worth if someone got their hands on the map, followed it, and found the ancient gems. What might a person do to get that kind of fame and wealth? Even an art professor could be tempted to sacrifice their principles for such a prize, but I didn’t voice my thoughts to Chloe.