Horror in the Highlands (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Alison Golden

  “We’ll never find anything. There must be thousands of jewelry items for sale,” Annabelle said.

  “Didn’t they teach you to have faith in theology school?” Roger quipped. “All we have to do is narrow the parameters. There was a diamond necklace among the jewelry in those pictures you showed me, wasn’t there?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Okay… Diamond necklaces… Let’s get rid of all the items listed by people in places outside Scotland… Now let’s look only at the items listed in the past few days… There. We’ve got it down to around fifty. Recognize any of them?”

  Roger scrolled down the list slowly, turning to look at Annabelle every few seconds.

  “That one!” Annabelle cried abruptly, pointing at the screen. “Can you make it bigger?”

  “Of course,” Roger said, clicking on the image.

  “That’s it!” Annabelle said, almost breathless with surprise. “The necklace! Someone’s trying to sell it!”

  “Hold on,” Roger said, clicking rapidly. “Let’s see what else this person is selling.”

  “And that’s the pearl bracelet!” Annabelle exclaimed, almost jumping out of her seat. “And the earrings! They’re all there! Can you find out who’s selling them?”

  Roger pursed his lips as he clicked the mouse and typed rapidly at the keyboard. Annabelle couldn’t follow what he was doing on the screen. She waited in silence for her brother to work his magic, finding herself almost short of breath. Eventually, Roger shook his head.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Whoever is selling them is covering their tracks well. I can’t even get an email address for them.”

  “Can’t we do anything?”

  Roger shrugged. “We could report the goods as stolen. This auction site would halt the listing, but that wouldn’t help us recover the jewelry or catch the thief.”

  Annabelle huffed. “What if we arrange to buy them? Could we find out who’s selling them that way?”

  “Nope. They’re using a secure payment system. The most we’d get is an email address – and I would guess they’re using a dummy account. Maybe the police could trace the bank account attached, but that takes time. Weeks. Months, if whoever’s doing this knows computers – and I suspect they do.”

  “Okay,” Annabelle said, sighing. “Let’s report them then.”

  “As you wish, boss.”

  Minutes later, Roger had reported all the items, receiving confirmations that the sales had been halted pending further details. He stretched back in his chair.

  “Phew, this is way more stressful than work!” he said running his hands through his hair. He looked at his watch. “I should be off to pick Bonnie up from school. Do you want to use the computer? I’m sure your friends back in Upton St. Mary will want to hear what you’ve been up to – even if they’re not entirely surprised.”

  Annabelle laughed. “I suppose I should. I’ve not even told them I arrived safely.”

  Roger patted her on the shoulder again as he left her facing the intimidating sight of three large computer screens.

  Annabelle logged onto her email account and ran her eye down the list of new emails that had arrived in her inbox. She went to work deleting, sorting, and filing. Emails pertaining to church business got filed under “Later”, and then—

  “Oh, what’s this?” she said.

  To: annabumble7@gmail.com

  From: mikenicholls56@yahoo.com

  Subject: hello

  Annabelle,

  I think I told you that I hate computers so I wouldn’t be surprised if this didn’t work.

  I had to visit USM to follow up on a report about Mrs. Guthrie’s missing/possibly dead cat (again.) Constable Raven said he could handle it but I wanted to make sure. While I was there, I went to see if you were around. Molly was wagging her tail as soon as she saw the church.

  Philippa told me you’d gone to Scotland to visit your brother. (I didn’t know you had a brother.) She gave me your email address, and wouldn’t stop telling me to message you. Since I had a few moments, I thought it would be a good opportunity to join the 21st century.

  Anyway, I wanted to tell you to be careful and stay safe. It gets cold up there, and the sea gets a bit rough. I’m sure Molly would love to see you when you get back, so tell me when you do.

  Mike

  P.S. Mrs. Guthrie’s missing/possibly dead cat turned up on her doorstep after a three-day vacation (again.)

  Annabelle smiled as she read the email. She could almost hear the Inspector’s commanding voice. She clicked the reply button eagerly.

  To: mikenicholls56@yahoo.com

  From: annabumble7@gmail.com

  Subject: Re: hello

  Dear Mike,

  It’s a very pleasant surprise to receive your email! I’m wagging my tail at the prospect of seeing Molly again. I’m not so technologically inclined either, but I remind myself it’s essentially just like letter-writing, albeit faster and a little more impersonal.

  I greatly appreciate your concern, but I’m safe and sound on a rather quaint island called Blodraigh. It’s a delightful place with lovely locals, and no crime to speak of.

  Having said that, there has been a murder and a burglary at the church while I’ve been here! There is also no police presence on the island currently due to a rather severe storm we suffered recently.

  A box of expensive jewelry was stolen from the church safe. Shortly afterward, the local pub landlord was found dead a few minutes away along the coast. He was hit on the head and had a part of his bagpipes stuffed in his mouth! I’m positive that both incidents are connected.

  I’m sure you know me well enough by now to realize that I am determined to discover the truth. Nothing much happens here, but there have been plenty of strange occurrences since I arrived, and the locals are quite lively, so I’m kept busy.

  I have often thought of seeking your opinion before realizing that you are actually hundreds of miles away. Nonetheless, if the detective who is to arrive tomorrow (as soon as the weather allows) is half as astute and insightful as you are, I’m sure all these questions will be answered promptly.

  Give Molly a big hug from me, and if you should speak to Philippa again, reassure her that Mrs. Cavendish is feeding me beautifully.

  Yours sincerely,

  Annabelle

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Tuesday

  FOR THE FIRST time since she had arrived, Annabelle woke up earlier than both Roger and Bonnie. The previous evening’s marathon of cartoons, puzzle games, and desserts had tired her hosts out, but had left Annabelle invigorated. It had also provided a welcome respite from thinking about the events on the island. As she made her way into the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast for the three of them, she had a fresh perspective.

  “What a nice surprise,” Roger said, his eyes fixed hungrily upon the toast and eggs.

  “Morning,” Annabelle said, before joining him at the table. “My pleasure,” she added, before buttering some toast for herself.

  They slurped and munched for a while in silence before Annabelle asked, “What was Mairéad’s relationship like with her father?”

  “Harry?” Roger said, “People thought he was a great guy. He liked everyone, and everyone liked him, but he could be a bit, how shall we say... overwhelming. A bit in your face.”

  “Yes, I would agree there,” Annabelle said.

  Roger continued, “I thought he was pleasant enough, but he did leave all the running of the pub to Mairéad. He could be rather irresponsible in that respect. Mairéad’s a young woman, and I’m sure she would have loved to be out and about. But she was often stuck running the pub all by herself. At times, there was definitely some tension between the two. But she knuckled down as is the way up here.”

  “She seemed so chirpy when I spoke to her in the bar after the service. But Bruce Fitzpatrick said she was later seen running after Harry, furiously yelling,” Annabelle said.

  “Wouldn’t sur
prise me. She was probably exhausted. We all have our tipping points,” Roger added.

  “Did Harry have any enemies?” Annabelle asked.

  “Don’t think so. Everyone goes to the pub. Besides church, it’s the main point of congregation on the island. In a small place like this, it’s almost your ‘duty’ to pop in at least once a week to catch up with everyone. Anyhow, we all knew Harry, and he seemed to get along with everyone, as far as I know.” Roger paused for a moment before adding, “Well, except for Kirsty.”

  “Kirsty?” Annabelle said.

  “Yes. Kirsty can be difficult. She had no patience for Harry’s antics. What a lot of people would call his ‘bonhomie,’ she seemed to find contemptuous. But then, Kirsty can be a little dour.”

  “Hmm, I’ve noticed.” Annabelle said. “Do you think there’s anything behind the dislike other than just a clash of personalities?”

  “I couldn’t tell you for sure. It’s just my impression. They are complete opposites.”

  Bonnie came into the room, yawning. She was dressed, but her hair was all muzzed up at the back. Annabelle gave her a big hug. As they tucked further into their breakfasts, they heard a windy pulsing sound outside. Roger looked at Annabelle with raised eyebrows.

  “Looks like it’s business as usual up in the air again. The boats will probably be out too.”

  “Good,” Annabelle said.

  “I expect the police will be on their way shortly.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  They continued to munch and sip their tea, as the choppy noise grew steadily louder.

  Roger frowned. “That’s strange.”

  “What is?”

  “The aircraft usually land on the other side of the island. There’s a landing strip. We don’t usually hear them so loudly over here.”

  Bonnie dropped her toast onto her plate and ran to the window.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly, before running to the entrance of the cottage.

  Roger and Annabelle exchanged quick, bemused glances.

  “Bonnie?” Roger said, following her.

  By the time Roger and Annabelle caught up with Bonnie, she was standing on the doorstep, watching a huge helicopter descend onto the land in front of Roger’s house. The roar of its engine was deafening. The downwind blew the grass and heathers in Roger’s yard around erratically, and forced them to shield their eyes as they squinted to see what was happening.

  As their hair blew flat against their heads and their clothes flapped, Roger urged Bonnie and Annabelle forward and closed the door behind them to protect the inside of the house from the draft. The three stood, transfixed, as the bug-like bulk settled itself gracefully on the ground. Roger made a small joke about his colorful heathers, but it was lost amid the noise.

  The door of the helicopter opened, and they waited, their mouths gaping. Bonnie was beside herself.

  “Who do you think it is, Bumble? Who do you think it is? Could it be…? Could it be…?” She gasped, unable to think who it might be. She was bent over with excitement, hanging onto Annabelle’s arm to steady herself.

  Eventually, a tall, handsome figure disembarked. He slammed the door behind him and crouched as he jogged away from the helicopter. Once he was past the worst of the down draft, he turned and saluted the pilot. The helicopter rose, spun its nose around, and in a majestic, swift motion, swooped back the way it had come.

  Annabelle was flabbergasted. “It can’t be.”

  Seeing his sister shake her head, Roger nodded over to the man and shouted across the noise. “Do you know who that is?”

  “Oh, yes.” Annabelle said to herself, quietly. She appeared to wilt a little then lifted her chin, cleared her throat, and stepped forward purposefully to meet the visitor as he made his way toward them. She made a valiant attempt to pat down her hair, but it was hopeless.

  “Hello, Annabelle,” the man said, with a bashful grin.

  “Hello, Inspector— I mean, Mike.” They stared at each other for a moment. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Things are quiet at home. I had some days off that I had to take. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to take them.”

  Annabelle tried to frown at the Inspector but found herself smiling bashfully too. She heard the sound of Roger clearing his throat.

  “Oh,” she said, turning, “this is my brother, Roger, and my niece, Bonnie.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Nicholls said, shaking their hands.

  “This is Inspector Nicholls. From Truro.”

  “Ah,” was all Roger said. “Can I get you a cup of tea, Inspector? Some breakfast, maybe?”

  Nicholls shuffled a little on his feet. “That would be nice, thanks. It’s been a long journey.”

  “I’ll say. Come on in then,” Roger said cheerily. They all traipsed inside, Bonnie unable to take her eyes off the Inspector but not saying a word.

  Annabelle led their visitor into the kitchen and gestured for him to take a seat while Roger boiled the kettle.

  “Thank you,” Nicholls said a few moments later, raising the strong tea to his lips and sipping slowly. He let out a deep sigh. “Lovely.”

  He noticed Bonnie was eyeing him keenly.

  “Are you the policeman?” she cooed, inquisitively.

  “I am a policeman, yes,” Nicholls said.

  “Are you the detective that’s Bumble’s boyfriend?” Bonnie fluttered her eyelashes and tipped her head to one side.

  “Um—”

  “I should really be getting Bonnie to school,” Roger said quickly, gathering up his keys. “Annabelle, you know where everything is.”

  “Daddy said you’re the only man who can keep up—“

  “Come on, Bon-Bon, let’s get going.”

  “Daddy says Bumble’s all goo—“

  “Bon-n-i-e,” Roger said warningly.

  “He says you’re her best prospect.”

  “Bonnie Julia Dixon, car, now!” Roger grabbed her coat from the rack.

  “But Daddy—“ Bonnie started to object as Roger prodded her out the room. The door slammed shut. Annabelle and Mike sat in awkward silence. Through the window, they could still hear Bonnie objecting as she got in the car.

  “But school doesn’t start for another two hours.”

  “I’m sorry about that. She’s rather lively, my brother’s daughter,” Annabelle said apologetically.

  “Oh, no,” the Inspector said, waving away the notion that he was offended. “It’s fine. I should apologize for surprising you all like this.”

  Annabelle drained the last of her tea. She shot Mike a look. She was barely dressed and now she was alone with him in the kitchen having been caught unawares by his rather dashing arrival.

  “I can’t believe you came all the way up here,” Annabelle said, “and in such a dramatic fashion, too! It’s an incredible surprise.” She paused. “I think Bonnie was a bit disappointed at first though,” she added gravely. “I think she thought her favorite pop group had come to visit her.”

  Nicholls chuckled. “Well, she seemed to get over it. To be honest, I was a little worried when I read what you wrote. A murder? No police presence on the island? That doesn’t sound good. Add your striking ability to find trouble, and you can see why I’d start to get a little concerned.”

  “I did call out the police on Fenbarra.”

  “Yes,” Nicholls explained, “and I spoke to them. Their inspector is going to make it over, but he’s currently busy. They’re close to solving a case they’ve been working on for a while now, finding the source of a drug route that runs through the islands. He’s asked me to take a look at the murder case in the meantime.”

  “Well, I’m flattered that you’re so concerned for my well-being.”

  “One of us has to be. Philippa sends her regards, by the way,” he said.

  “She knew you were coming?”

  “It was her idea.”

  Annabelle rolled her eyes.


  “How is she?”

  “Good,” Nicholls replied. “Although she’s looking forward to you getting back.” Annabelle smiled warmly as he continued, “She can’t find anyone as remotely capable as you to eat all the cakes she’s been baking.

  Annabelle’s smile dropped from her face with the suddenness of a fallen rock.

  “I see,” she said, drolly.

  Mike put his mug down. “Now tell me, what’s been happening?”

  “More than you’d think for an island this size,” Annabelle said, standing up from the table. “Tell you what, let me show you around. The quicker you see the island for yourself, the better.”

  She got up and walked to the front door. “Follow me,” Annabelle said, turning to march down the path, “I’ll explain on the way.”

  The Inspector watched her for a few seconds without moving.

  “Annabelle!” he called out.

  “What?” she called back.

  The Inspector gazed at her feet.

  Annabelle looked down. Not even on this strange, remote Scottish isle did appropriate walking gear extend to pink pajamas and bunny slippers. Without responding or meeting the Inspector’s eye, she spun around and headed back into the cottage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE INSPECTOR WAITED outside while Annabelle got dressed, and once she was ready, they set off on foot across the island. The sun shone brightly, and the sky was clear but for a few wisps of pale grey-white clouds.

  “You’re right,” the Inspector said as they strolled along, “it is rather nice up here.”

  “Believe me, it was anything but nice a few days ago. I’ve never seen such a storm!”

  “You look very well for someone who’s endured so much strife,” Nicholls said.

  Annabelle quickened her pace in order to distract from her blushes.