Duncan added, "Do you think he misses his mates?"
"Aye, I know he does. Why don't we take him for a visit to the Charmicle's?" Skye asked with enthusiasm. She continued, "Let's go tomorrow morning. I'll pick ye up at the inn and we'll go from there. I'll square it with Sally today."
He focused his attention on Mr. Lincoln. He did not want to admit to Skye that he'd rather not visit the Charmicles or go anywhere near Castle Taye. She took his silence for agreement with her plans. He decided to change the subject.
"Say, Skye, do you know what these spots are on the dog's tongue? It's not malnutrition or anything like that, is it?"
"Nae. Mr. Lincoln has some wolf in him, by my research."
"Wolf?" he repeated, alarmed.
"Aye, Duncan. That's where the spots come from. He exhibits some strange behavior as well, like opening a door by turning the knob."
"What?"
"Aye. Dinnae fash yersel. He's perfectly safe. I knew he was part Australian shepherd mixed with border collie, but dae ye ken those spots on his tongue signify wolf blood?" She continued, "And opening doors by turning the knob is a trait of wolves. Ordinary dogs don't do that. Wolves are smarter than dogs. We've learned to keep the door locked at meal time. When he eats, he points his tail down, plain dogs don't do that either. I found all this out on the internet," Skye added, beaming. "Do ye think ye can love him, Duncan, in spite of everything that happened between ye and Caroline?" she asked with her local burr.
He filled his lungs with the fresh damp morning air and took his time exhaling. He could smell the nearby evergreens.
"I'm really not a dog person, Skye, and I don't know where I'd keep him. I’m still at my parents' home and even if I go back to London, I've no yard at my flat, and he's too large to be a house pet. We may need to look for other arrangements."
There, he'd said what had been on his mind regarding Mr. Lincoln. He hoped an animal lover like Skye wouldn't think him a cad. He saw the corners of her mouth crumple.
"Well, like I said, dinnae fash yersel. We've no reason to hurry and neither of us knows what the future may hold. For now, just help me get him over to visit General Washington and Roosevelt and agree to come by now and then and get to know him," she said, moving towards the door of the cottage.
"Alright, Skye, I can do that," he agreed, straightening.
Mr. Lincoln immediately snapped from his trance-like state and pounced on Duncan's foot in his excitement.
"Ow!" he exclaimed.
The investigator guessed the animal weighed four and a half stone by the pressure on his tarsals and metatarsals.
Skye barked commands at the canine, who came to attention in a sitting position, his spotted tongue still hanging from one side of his mouth. Mr. Lincoln obeyed her, but the animal kept his eyes trained on Duncan. It was unnerving. The investigator didn't know what made him agree to visit the dog or the Charmicles. It's not as if he lived in the village and could pop by anytime. He felt that somehow Mr. Lincoln and Skye had conspired together against him.
As the dog's yellow-green eyes bored holes in Duncan, Skye entered the house. The canine's intense stare became unnerving. Lincoln's glowing eyes, surrounded by pitch black fur, did appear wolf-like. Growing more uncomfortable by the second, he didn't want to turn his back on the mutt, so he attempted a reverse step into the kitchen. His large frame filled the doorway before his heel caught on the threshold and he stumbled, tumbling backwards into the cottage.
"What on earth are ye doing, Duncan?" Skye exclaimed, seeing his strange trip inside the house culminate with a nasty knock on the backside.
He shook his head and decided not to answer, instead drawing his long legs inside and reaching to close the entry just as a wild-eyed Mr. Lincoln rushed the opening. The door slammed in the mutt's face as Duncan used his muscles to spring from the floor, turning the lock in one swift movement. That should keep him. He'd narrowly escaped a pouncing and thorough face-licking from the animal. Skye caught a glimpse of his near circus quality maneuver and stifled a laugh.
"I could use that cup of tea now," he said, shaking his head and moving to the sink where Skye was already washing up.
She gave him the soap and rubbed her hands on a drying-up cloth. Duncan glanced about as he lathered his hands. He liked her cheerful kitchen with its sunny Formica table, mismatched chairs, floral café curtains and buttery yellow cupboards and tile.
After rinsing, he pulled a chair out and took a seat at the table as Skye placed the kettle over a burner. He watched as the lass moved about the kitchen, assembling a tea service before the water boiled. She warmed the pot and both their cups with water from the kettle, swirling the hot liquid in the porcelain pieces. Just before the kettle began to whistle, she dumped the water from the cups and teapot, then placed several tea bags in the pot and filled it with near boiling water. Before he knew it, the tea had steeped and Skye poured an amber liquid in his already heated cup. She handed him a sugar bowl and milk pitcher decorated with tiny, brightly colored flowers. The wonderful aroma of tea leaves and cloves met him in the steam that rose from the table.
"Biscuit?" she asked.
Duncan shook his head. He was still full from breakfast.
After Skye settled in her own chair Duncan said, "So what can you tell me about this friend of your father's? I know your dad's not telling me everything about the case."
Skye stirred a sugar cube into her cup and took her time adding a spoonful of milk, which she took great care in measuring.
At last, she said, "I don't know what I can tell ye, Duncan. Dad was friends for years with the elder Norcroft. His son is who could use yer help now."
"Skye, look me in the eye," he commanded.
The lass took her time lifting her gaze to meet his.
He continued, "I'm sure there's something you're not telling me. I felt the same thing about your dad last night. What's going on here?"
Skye allowed a long sigh to escape her lips as she exhaled.
"Ye're going to have to ask me dad about it, dae ye ken?"
The lass seemed flustered. Duncan resigned himself to questioning Donald back at the inn. He hoped she wasn’t developing her father's habit of ending sentences with do you know. He took another sip of tea and smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood and put the girl at ease.
"This tea is delicious. Same brand you use at the inn, if I'm not mistaken."
Skye nodded, relieved to move on to another subject. She did not like deceiving her friend.
"Now tell me everything that's been happening in Taye without me."
By the time they'd finished their tea, and driven back to the Blue Bell, Duncan's stomach ached from laughing. Skye recounted the crime at the bakery and how her father caught the culprit, as well as the numerous visits the inn received from Abigail Neward since he'd last been in Taye. Abigail owned a bookstore in the neighboring village of Tyne and was sweet on her father, Donald.
The investigator and Skye separated in the pub, the lass heading to the kitchen and Duncan moving towards the inn's lobby. Filled with patrons, the Blue Bell was more crowded than he had ever seen, but then he'd never visited in late summer. Donald was not at the desk, so he decided to relax in his room before lunch.
Number nine hadn't changed from his last visit. It still had the awkward tiny shower, the only real drawback to the accommodation. The large tester bed and comfortable wing back chair in front of the fireplace brought back fond memories. Duncan grabbed his mobile phone and checked for messages. He was hoping Angela had replied to the one he sent her yesterday.
Since returning from Spain a few weeks ago, Duncan had kept busy. With the hefty fee he received from the Tormes Foundation for his last case, he'd leased a small office space in a tony area of Old Town Edinburgh. Just up a short flight of steps from the street, on the first floor, the two room workplace with storage area impressed. Located on a small lane off the Royal Mile, between Saint Giles Cathedral and Edinburgh castle, the office's l
arge windows provided partial views of the fortress and the spire atop the High Kirk. The landlord had already installed a brass plate etched with Dewar & Associates at the street level. Other professionals in the building included a barrister-at-law, financial adviser, and psychologist.
The ring of his cellular interrupted Duncan's thoughts. The screen said the call was from Angela.
"Hallo, Angela?"
"Hello, Duncan. I received your message. Congratulations on your new office."
His former assistant's voice was cool.
Duncan had spoken with her several times since she left Manchiego. She'd traveled to Spain on his mum's say so, hoping to assist him with his investigation and enjoy the warm weather. Angela had helped with the case, but she'd gotten feelings hurt in the process and blamed him. Angus, his brother, had been more than happy to lend his shoulder of support for the lass. Duncan felt he was making progress with Angela, but it was slow going. He'd provided her with all the contact information for Sunny Bentwell, her friend and source of her emotional duress in Spain.
"So you approve? What did you think of the photos I forwarded?"
"It's a beautiful building, full of character, Duncan. Just like you."
"I'm going to need an associate. Would you consider the position, Angela? You know we work well together."
He waited for a response from the lass. He missed Angela more every day and felt pressed to include her in his life again.
"I don't know about that, Duncan. I'm doing quite well here at L&G. I believe they'll make me a full investigator in a year or so."
"Please consider it, Angela. I won't hire another until I have your answer one way or the other. In the meanwhile, would you come up for a visit and help me pick out a furniture suite for the office? I'd like to move my business out of mum's kitchen and into the new space as soon as practical."
Duncan hoped to lure Angela to Edinburgh with this sensible request. Wooing the lass long distance wasn't going so well.
"Is Margaret back from Spain?" she asked, changing the subject.
"No, not yet. But she's due in a few days and I'd wager she'll want my clutter gone soon after." He continued, "Dad's getting fed up with takeaways and misses her. She wanted to stay through September, but he put his foot down on that idea."
"So, have you started work on your next case? The one Donald threw your way," Angela inquired.
"I'm working on getting started. No progress yet. In fact, I'm here at the Blue Bell getting acquainted, it turns out, with my would-be new family member, that mutt left with the Merriwethers. He tried to attack me earlier today," Duncan added, careful not to mention Caroline Menzies.
Angela had not been to Taye and had never met Donald or Skye, let alone Mr. Lincoln.
"Is he vicious?" she asked, concern in her voice.
He had explained in a prior telephone call about the animal and how Skye had taken care of the pet.
"Nae. He just tried to take advantage. The animal is forever trying to slobber me."
Angela laughed and Duncan continued, "I hope to meet my client in the next couple of days. It looks like the case will take me to Lindisfarne."
"Ah, Holy Island. That should be a treat, Duncan."
"I hope so. Tell me what you've been about," he said.
Angela shared as regards to her work, the weather in London, and people from Lawful and General that he knew. She avoided the subject of Johan, her beau who had been pressuring her for a commitment before she left for Spain. Duncan didn't inquire, afraid of the answer he might get. She agreed to think about visiting, and they signed off. He felt the conversation went as well as could be expected. Perhaps the lass was warming to him.
* * * * * *
"I'm waiting for just the right time to ask the lad and it hasn't come yet, dae ye ken?"
Duncan overheard the innkeeper speaking to Skye in a low tone. He'd just entered the pub and neither he nor his daughter had seen him.
"The right time to ask the lad what?" Duncan inquired.
A startled Skye pushed herself from the bar and mumbled something about a customer before fleeing to a busy table across the room. The innkeeper coughed and asked the barkeep for a pint.
"Well, Donald? Were you going to ask me something? Now is as good a time as any," he said.
He knew the older man often referred to him as Lad.
"Nae, nae. I was just discussing our chef, wanting him to put in some extra hours," Donald claimed.
He didn't believe him, but decided not to force the issue. His friend would come clean when he was ready.
"Care to join me for lunch, Donald?"
Duncan asked for a pint and both men took a table near the fire. It seemed as though the temperature had dropped since this morning. The investigator ordered a ploughman's lunch when the waiter inquired, and Donald followed suit. After the morning's breakfast, a simple meal of bread, lettuce, cheese, and pickle appealed to him. The men chatted until their food arrived, and the innkeeper tucked in. He wondered how his friend's new year's resolution to eat healthier progressed, but didn't ask.
Instead, he said, "I'd like to hear more about this case. I've been given nothing to go on as yet."
Donald put down a hunk of bread and finished chewing a mouthful of cheddar and lettuce, washing it down with some ale.
Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm going to drive over tomorrow. Ye should follow the next day, if ye can. Reginald reserved a room fir ye on the island. Ye're aware of the causeway and the dangers of crossing?" Duncan nodded and the innkeeper continued, "Ye'll need to check the timetable on the island's website before ye go. Ye dinnae want to sit on the coast waiting fir hours until it's safe to cross and don't ever try to beat the tide. It cannot be done."
Donald picked up a heel of the loaf supplied by the bakery across the street and took a hearty bite. He waited for the innkeeper to finish chewing before speaking.
"I need to know something about the case before I commit to travelling to Lindisfarne. What can you tell me, Donald?"
His friend inhaled, expanding his chest at least a size bigger, so much so that Duncan feared the buttons on the innkeeper's shirt might break loose and become deadly missiles within the pub. The innkeeper whistled the exhale through his teeth, creating a lively tune.
He leaned back from the table and said, "I can tell ye it involves a priceless treasure, a legend, and a missing person."
-3-
Old Friends
Lindisfarne Castle shone like Spanish gold. Located at the highest point of Holy Island, it reflected the first rays of the sun, while the rest of the island remained dim. Duncan watched as the knoll the castle sat upon became illuminated. Bright green grass contrasted against the golden stone, providing a startling sight. He glanced in his rear view mirror and noted that the sheep still stood watch in the pasture. Across the causeway, on the shore, a few brave souls had weathered the early hour to capture the island in its morning glory forever, via photographs.
A different sight next caught his eye. He witnessed the North Sea as it rushed in over the only road to Lindisfarne. It took just minutes for the ocean's quick moving tide to smother the causeway, removing all sign of the asphalt. Only the refuge boxes and tall guideposts remained, silent sentinels marking the locations of the now submerged road and footpath to the island. The speed with which the water moved reminded Duncan of the dangers inherent in the sea. He pushed down the trapped sensation that crept upon him with the realization he would be stuck on this plot of soil and rock for hours.
He still had plenty of time before his scheduled meeting with Donald. The innkeeper arrived on Lindisfarne a day ahead of him to spend time with his chum. The head of Dewar & Associates had no idea if this case would pan out. Part of him wished he were back in Edinburgh, equipping his new office for clients. But, then again, there were no new clients, yet. So, he might as well do this favor for Donald and see if he could be some help to Reginald, the innkeeper's friend.
Duncan eased t
he Vauxhall out of the car park. He'd drive around the island and perhaps even enjoy a walk before his meeting. The Lindisfarne Causeway Road soon became Chare Ends, a lovely two lane avenue lined with stone fences and mature trees. To his left he passed charming gates, beyond which he caught glimpses of cottages, while open fields lay to his right. On the surface, this seemed no different than many of the well-heeled suburban areas outside of London.
Once in town, he turned left on Green Lane, driving along the web of streets that spread across the village. Small and quaint, the hamlet contained several inns, hostels, a kirk, cottages, pubs, and a few tourist related businesses. As Duncan progressed, he noticed a number of cafés and restaurants which hadn't opened yet. He came across a fork in the road, and decided to follow the signs to the castle. The road ended abruptly at a gate near a small empty car park.
Duncan reversed the Vauxhall, determined to see more of the island before his meeting. He saw a road heading off to his left and decided to give that a try. It also came to an abrupt end, next to the shoreline. The sun was well over the horizon now, and he decided to explore on foot.
A stiff breeze met the Scotsman as he exited his car. Buttoning his coat and turning up his collar, the investigator strolled along the sands of a deserted bay. Inland, once colorful small boats sat capsized in rows, old crab and lobster cages their only companions. He ambled among the red, blue, yellow, and green vessels, examining their peeling paint, chips, and other evidence of hard knocks. Returning to his vehicle, Duncan cranked up the heater. While strolling about, the wind had cut through him like a knife.
He checked his watch and saw he had fifteen minutes before due at the restaurant. He'd have to save the rest of the tour for later. He wanted to see the old lime kilns, fishing shacks made from the hulls of upturned ships, and small coves where sailors preferred to anchor their boats. He looked forward to exploring the castle as well.
With little effort, he located his destination on Marygate, one of the main streets in the village. He pulled his car behind The Puffin, and eased the Vauxhall into a slim parking slot. Here was the restaurant where he was slated to meet Reginald Norcroft and Donald for a late breakfast, as well as the inn that would provide his lodging. His friend's words did intrigue him, "A legend, a treasure, and a missing person," Donald had claimed. Duncan checked his watch again. He had five minutes to spare. He shifted in his seat to alleviate the pain in his tail bone as his mobile phone hummed. It was a message from Skye.
Mystery: The Laird's Labyrinth: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 4) Page 2