Mystery: The Laird's Labyrinth: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 4)

by Victoria Benchley

  "Ye know as well as I that it's Angus I'm blethering on aboot. I prefer ye, fir me Skye, but I know ye're taken, Laddie."

  The investigator liked the sound of that. Reggie handed him the newspaper he'd kept folded under his arm until now.

  "Take a gander, Lad," the innkeeper encouraged.

  Duncan unfolded the paper and did a double take. The broadsheet featured an old photo of him next to a picture of a medical evacuation helicopter. Above was plastered a headline that read, Dashing Duncan Redeems Himself -- Discovers New Treasure For England. The article went on to state that in an effort to atone for past misdeeds, the investigator risked his life to recover a hidden cache of monastery wealth, braving the worst storm in fifty years to do so. The found items were of such historical significance that the government had been called in to mediate between concerned parties.

  "Not too keen on facts, are they?" Duncan stated.

  "We thought ye'd get a laugh from it, Lad."

  "The real news is the Townsend confessions. That's why we're here, Duncan," admitted Reggie.

  "The one he recanted?" Duncan asked.

  "No, Duncan. I'm sorry to say that Julien and his family were not what they seemed, or maybe I'm just easy to dupe," Reggie lamented.

  "Please, tell me what you know," Duncan said, imploring both his friends to speak up.

  "Go ahead, Reggie. The lad's strong enough to hear it all now."

  Reginald drew in a deep breath of antiseptic-smelling hospital air.

  "Harold figured it all out when he spotted Julien Senior at the hospital, visiting my handyman. Senior had made friendship overtures towards your brother and kept an eye on your comings and goings about town. Harold also discovered that Julien's alibi for the afternoon when you disappeared didn't hold water. He shared his information with the constable, who put the squeeze on the father. Julien's father spilled it all for the promise of a lighter sentence. The rug pulled from underneath, Julien fessed up as well."

  "I'm confused. What exactly did they admit?" the investigator asked.

  "Start at the beginning, Reggie," Donald encouraged his friend.

  "Julien Senior never worked at Norcroft Manor. He drank too much and was unreliable. But, his father and grandfather both worked for my family. In fact, Julien's great grandfather worked on the estate when my grandfather went missing. The Townsends had family lore, just as did the Norcrofts. However, the story passed from father to son by them included their ancestor murdering mine in a fit of greed.

  You see, my grandfather, David, did come to believe the well held the monks' treasures. He may have confided in Townsend or just been followed by him. When David removed the cap from the well, Townsend pushed him to his death. The villain assumed he'd look down and see gold reflecting back up at him. As you know, the monks were smarter than that and hid their riches well. So, the elder Townsend received no filthy lucre for his deed, but he did pass the tale, with the legend of the treasure, on his death bed to his son, who in turn passed it to Julien Senior, who then shared it with my grounds keeper."

  "So, it's certain that Julien attacked me, then?"

  "I'm afraid so, Duncan. When he saw you racing from the house, he worried you'd discovered the location of the gold or my grandfather's final resting place. He knew you'd been scrutinizing family records. You returned to the house later, and like his ancestor, he jumped the gun, hitting you in the back of the head and tossing you down the well. He overestimated his own intelligence, thinking he'd figure out the clues in the labyrinth himself later. I've had to fire the whole lot of them," Reggie said, shaking his head. "Except for Anna, of course. It seems my accountant was stealing salvage from the estate, while his wife pinched the silver. Davey also tampered with my accounts. It looks like he was attempting to set up a scheme where he'd pad the estate's expenses and pocket the differences without my realizing. I'm so sorry I brought you into this brood of vipers, Duncan," Reggie said, his voice full of remorse.

  "Don't be, Reginald. You had no idea what those people were really like. I feel very grateful to be alive, and I refuse to let something so evil taint my thoughts."

  "That's the way, Lad," Donald enthused. "Oh, and I think ye'll be taking Mr. Lincoln off our hands now, won't ye?" he added with a chuckle.

  The investigator tried not to laugh. It hurt his ribs too much.

  "Tell me, Reggie. What was the treasure like?"

  "Oh, it's beautiful to behold, Duncan. Several large jeweled crosses, gold chalices, chains and smaller crosses. There are two rings as well. We're not sure of their significance yet, but the prospects are exciting," Reggie stated.

  "The treasure and the labyrinth are the good that's come from all of this," Donald added.

  "You're forgetting another good thing, Donny," Reginald said.

  "What's that?" The innkeeper asked.

  "Anna has lured one of her granddaughters back to Holy Island. She's a bookkeeper and she'll be my new accountant, as well as absorbing Davey's other customers, I'd wager," Reggie said.

  -25-

  The Road to Recovery

  Harold and Angus returned to Edinburgh to resume their posts at the garages, but Margaret and James stayed at Berwick-On-Tweed until Duncan was released to a rehabilitation facility. Sophie had returned to her family in London as soon as the doctor deemed the investigator out of the woods.

  Of Duncan's friends, only Angela remained to see him off to Scotland. Donald and Skye left for Taye earlier, taking Mr. Lincoln with them, as a temporary solution. The innkeeper let the topic of Duncan taking over his share of the Blue Bell drop, for the present. Reginald decamped to Newcastle, where he was offered a position teaching his favorite subject, ornithology, and where he hoped to strategize with the archaeology department to find a way to keep the monks' treasures on Lindisfarne and the labyrinth in Norcroft Manor. He couldn't bring himself to stay in the house, knowing everything that had gone on there. He hired Anna and Henry to look after the place in his absence and take care of Viking, who now had free run of the estate.

  Before Duncan left via medical transfer vehicle, the orderlies gave him a moment alone with Angela in his hospital room. Propped in a wheelchair, his former assistant took a seat opposite him. Margaret and James, who would ride in the van with their son, waited by the hospital entrance.

  "Thank you for coming and for staying all these days, Angela. It meant the world to me," he said, reaching for her hand.

  She closed her eyes, slowly moving her head from side to side. Duncan took the opportunity to allow his gaze to run over the lass. He found her lovely.

  "When Angus rang me to say you were missing, I thought I'd lose my mind. He didn't phone me until several days had passed and things already looked grim."

  Duncan squeezed the lass's hand. She'd stopped moving her head, but her eyes stayed shut.

  "Your brother called as soon as you arrived at the hospital and asked me to come. He and I had plenty of time to chat those terrible days you remained unconscious. I explained my feelings and he explained his… "

  Duncan felt his atrophied muscles tighten and his body go rigid. If Angela were in love with Angus, he didn't want to know.

  "Let me stop you right there, Angela," the Scotsman interrupted.

  Her lids flew open at the icy tone of Duncan's voice. He released her hand. Angela tried to say something, but he stopped her with a wave of his arm.

  "There's only one way this is going to go. You're going to forget about this nonsense with Angus."

  Duncan raised his hand clenched in a fist, and released his thumb, aiming it at the ceiling.

  He continued, straightening his index finger, "You're going to visit me in the rehab facility as often as possible. You're taking an extended holiday at Christmas," out went his middle finger, "in Edinburgh with my family, and," he released a fourth finger, "you are mine. End of story. If that doesn't work for you then we're making a clean break, here and now."

  Startled at the invalid's reaction, Angela c
losed her eyes again, unsure if she did this to fight back tears or a smile. Her breathing grew shallow and she clasped her hands together so he wouldn't see them tremble.

  "That works," she whispered in a voice so soft, only Duncan could hear.

  Thank you for reading The Laird's Labyrinth. I hope you enjoyed it. Below is a sample of Duncan's next adventure, The Christmas Contest.

  Angela's heels clacked on the pavement. Through the rehabilitation center's glass doors she could see Duncan waiting in his wheelchair. His faithful attendant, Jerry, hovered behind the investigator.

  She'd taken great care with her attire this morning, donning the lavender knit dress she knew amplified the unusual color of her eyes and flattered her figure in all the right places. Clear skies, remarkable for this time of year, meant she needed no umbrella or bulky overcoat. Nude heels, with a small platform, showed off her shapely legs.

  Duncan took in the details of his approaching girlfriend's appearance. Angela made him want to leap from his seat. He didn't require a wheelchair, but the clinic's policy demanded he be pushed from the facility. He still limped, but he'd worked hard in rehab, focusing on his future, and had recovered faster than anyone thought possible.

  Angela tried to make it to Edinburgh every other weekend to encourage Duncan and keep him company. She stayed with the family, but the Dewars made themselves scarce at the therapy center when she visited, giving the couple time to be alone. The Scotsman extracted a promise from the lass that when he was released from rehabilitation, she would greet him and take him home. He hadn't seen her in three weeks and couldn't wait to hold her in his arms, away from the hospital.

  As Angela drew closer to the doors, Duncan's grin grew by degrees until the muscles in his cheeks ached. She had almost reached the entrance when he noted a startled look on her face, then a crowd rushed between them and blocked his view.

  Storming through the sliding doors, a noisy group of a dozen people charged towards him. Bright lights from flashing cameras went off, producing temporary blindness. Confused, the investigator had no idea what was happening.

  "Here he is, boys. The hero of the UK," a vaguely familiar female voice rose above the din.

  "How does it feel to find redemption?"

  "When did the two of you get back together?"

  "How do you plan to spend the reward money?"

  "Have you had any contact with Caroline Menzies?"

  "How did you keep your relationship hidden from the public?"

  Questions fired like bullets from an automatic weapon at Duncan, who remained blinded from the brilliant bursts of light.

  "Now, now. Can't you see he's tired? Pictures only, boys. That's what we agreed upon," the female voice said.

  He turned his head to see who was orchestrating this gang of what he now understood to be reporters. As his pupils dilated and his vision returned, he saw who spoke. There, dressed in a strapless, dark brown leather bustier with matching skirt and spike-heeled boots, towered Cassandra Baines. Her platform stilettos raised her to well over one and a half meters, giving her a height advantage. The former model stepped next to Duncan, bent at the waist, and planted a kiss on the investigator's cheek, angling herself to the cameras, allowing the photographers an ample view of her bosom.

  Duncan squirmed away from Cassandra as best he could, seated in the wheelchair. It didn't occur to him to get up and leave. His old girlfriend draped her arm around the investigator and pulled him close, sitting on the edge of his chair, as cameras flashed, lending the drab lobby the lighting of a discotheque.

  "That's it boys. Clear off," Cassandra ordered as a security officer for the hospital approached the group.

  The reporters dissipated as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving Duncan alone with Cassandra and a stunned Jerry. The Scotsman scanned the room for Angela, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, incensed.

  Cassandra's smile transformed into a hurt expression. She jutted her lower lip forward in an exaggerated pout.

  "Just helping you get back on your feet. Imagine the publicity this will generate for your consulting venture. Now, everyone knows you're here to stay. You should be thanking me instead of scowling, Poppett."

  Cassandra bent over Duncan and, placing a palm on each side of his jaw, attempted to draw him into a full blown kiss.

  "Uhm, uhm," someone cleared their throat behind Cassandra.

  Duncan jerked his face free while Jerry looked on, bemused at the scene. Cassandra straightened to her full height and turned to see who dared interrupt her mini-tryst.

  "Excuse me," Angela said in a business-like tone, stepping to one side and then moving her body between Duncan and the former model. "Are you ready?" his girlfriend asked with a pleasant voice, smiling at both the investigator and Jerry while ignoring the woman.

  "Yes," Duncan rasped out.

  He tried to keep his eyes off Cassandra, but gave her a sidelong glance as Jerry wheeled him from the lobby. His old girlfriend tapped away on her mobile phone, ignoring their procession. Duncan couldn't remember the last time he felt so awkward. Everything happened so fast. What must Angela think?

  Jerry, who by now had collected his thoughts and formed an opinion on the scene in the lobby, saw the patient into the passenger seat of the car. James Dewar had leant Angela the family saloon to retrieve his son from the facility. Duncan said his good-byes and thanked his attendant. Jerry gave him a wry smile, as if to say Now you're in for it, before shutting the vehicle's door. Duncan studied Angela. Her hands trembled at the wheel.

  "I'm sorry, Angela. I had no idea that was coming."

  "Just what was that?" Angela asked, her eyes trained straight ahead.

  "I don't know. I suspect Cassandra is trying to cash in on the media attention I've had since the story broke about the treasure at Lindisfarne. I tried to get away from her."

  Duncan had been instrumental in discovering a lost hoard of riches, hidden by the monks on Holy Island hundreds of years before. His recent case had almost cost him his life and when the press got hold of the details, he featured prominently in their headlines. Years before, he achieved brief fame for a breakthrough technique he'd invented employing mathematics in accident investigations. It was then he'd dated Cassandra Baines, a well-known model in the UK.

  "That's not what it looked like," Angela said, her voice full of anger.

  The lass flashed her cellular at Duncan, who took the phone in his hand. There, on the on-line page of Edinburgh's leading rag, was a photo of the investigator leering at Cassandra's cleavage with a pleased expression on his face. In reality, the camera angle affected the photo; he had tried to pull away from the model with a look of disgust, however, that wasn't the story told by the picture. It appeared Duncan drew back for a better look at the beauty's figure, his visage reflecting nirvana.

  "That's a delirious smile if I've ever seen one," Angela commented as she drove the vehicle from the car park. She continued, suddenly realizing the identity of the leather clad beauty, "The Cassandra Baines? Is that who that was? You're old paramour?"

  Duncan thought at light speed. He needed to dig himself out of this hole as fast as possible.

  "Now, Angela, can't you see I'm an injured man? I've just been released from hospital. I had no idea she would show up. I was looking forward to seeing you come through those doors. I'm a weak and helpless invalid. In fact, you could have your way with me now, quite easily," he said.

  Humor always appeased Angela.

  "If I had my way with you at this moment, you'd be on that curb over there, thrown on your duff!" Angela retorted, pointing to the pavement as the vehicle rounded a corner.

  The lass didn't much reduce her speed as she turned from one street to the next and Duncan began to fear they wouldn't arrive home in one piece.

  Maybe humor wasn't the way to go.

  She drove on in silence. Duncan could feel the anger emanating from his girlfriend. Truth be told, he found
Cassandra's stunt repulsive. He hoped he'd never lay eyes on her again. The investigator drew in a sharp breath and attempted an explanation.

  "Angela, I've had no contact with that woman for years. I don't know how she organized that circus back there, but I'm sure she did it for her own gain. I hope I never see her again and I'm embarrassed I ever had anything to do with her. She was only interested in my fame as it was, and I don't appreciate her using my situation now. I should have stood and walked away, but it just didn't occur to me in the moment. I was admiring you, through the glass, dreaming of being alone with you, when this mob of people darted between us, blocking my view, and blinded me with camera flashes. The next thing I knew, that… that… woman draped herself over me. I don't even want to think of it!" Duncan said, his voice shaking with rage.

  His romance with Cassandra Baines had been a huge mistake. He was young and had his head turned by the model. As soon as his fame faded, so did their relationship. She'd used him to bolster her own image. Duncan never dealt with his anger over the situation, but now that Cassandra had come between him and Angela, he felt it full force.

  "The worst of it is how insulting the entire episode was to you. It's tainted our reunion," he said, his blood pressure rising and pounding behind his temples.

  "No, Darling, it hasn't, if we don't allow it."

  The soft, sweet tone of Angela's voice shocked Duncan.

  "I'm sorry I was harsh. I won't jump to conclusions anymore. Try and calm down, Duncan, it's not good for your health to get so upset."

  Angela reached across the center console and patted Duncan's thigh. Then, she took her eyes off the road for a second and gave him a lovely smile. His heart rate jumped and he drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

  What just happened? Duncan had no idea what spurred Angela from fury to concern and affection. After all these years, Angela Smith was still a mystery to him, a beautiful enigma. The investigator ran his fingers through his thick, black hair and stared at his girlfriend, astonished. He knew she was aware of his gaze as her face turned a shade of pink. He enjoyed that view the rest of the way home, imagining his lips on Angela's.