Death and Daisies

by Amanda Flower

  “Looks like we have company,” Ewan said.

  “Ah,” Old Milton replied. “It’s Seth MacGregor.”

  I spun around at that, and sure enough, Seth was standing at the edge of the harbor. He was a long and lean man, just a year or two younger than me. He’d fashioned his hair differently than I remembered it a couple of months ago. His head was turned in profile, so I could see that the hair at the sides of his head was short and the top was brushed back into a fauxhawk.

  Ewan scratched the day-old growth of stubble on his chin. “What’s he doing here? I thought the boy had left us for life in the big city. I never thought he’d be one of the children to stay. Always can tell the ones who will stay and who have the big eyes for the city. Seth was one of the big-eye boys, I can promise you that.”

  Seth was still looking north, toward the rocky beach where Minister MacCullen had washed up that morning. Was he looking that way because of the murder?

  Old Milton clicked his tongue. “Smart as a whip, Seth MacGregor is, but not a whit of what you Americans call ‘street smarts.’ Maybe he came back because Aberdeen was too much for him.”

  “Now that I see him, that stirred a memory,” the one-eyed man said.

  I turned to him. “Oh?”

  “He was here at the harbor the night of the storm as well.” He turned to his friend. “That must have been about the time you saw the minister with Remy, Old Milton. Because I had seen Seth, and then came straight here. That’s when you told me about seeing Remy and the minister.”

  Old Milton nodded. “That sounds right, but you didn’t say anything about seeing the MacGregor boy.”

  The one-eyed man shrugged. “I hadn’t thought anything of it. There was no reason why I would be suspicious of Seth MacGregor walking around the docks. He was born and raised in this village.”

  My pulse quickened. Seth had been at the docks the same time the minister was? Was he somehow connected to the minister’s death? Had he seen something? Had he spoken to the minister before he died? I turned and stared at Seth, who seemed deep in thought.

  “But you have probably seen him the most out of any of us, lass,” Old Milton said.

  I tore my eyes away from Seth and looked down at Old Milton. “Me? Why do you say that?”

  Old Milton shifted in his wheelchair. “Why, I would have thought that the boy was staying with his great uncle Hamish, and if he is staying with Hamish, you should know about it, since Hamish’s cottage is on your land.”

  I didn’t say anything. For some reason, I didn’t want the old sailors to know Seth hadn’t been to Duncreigan. But did I really know he hadn’t been there? In all actuality, he could have been staying with Hamish in his cottage and I would never have known it. In all the time I had been living in Scotland, I had never visited the garden caretaker’s cottage.

  When I turned back to Seth, he was staring at me. Shock registered on his handsome face, and he turned and fast-walked away from the harbor back toward the cobblestone streets and into the heart of the village.

  It was time to get to the bottom of why he was in Bellewick. I started after him. “Seth?”

  He started to jog.

  Was he really running away from me?

  “Seth, stop!” I shouted.

  Seth glanced back at me and then bolted.

  I took off after him at a dead run.

  “Is that girl an Olympic sprinter?” I heard Ewan ask as I ran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I came around the side of one of the large fisherman’s boats, expecting to see Seth on the other side, but he was gone. There were so many alleyways and streets that led out of the harbor area into the village, it was impossible for me to know which way he’d gone.

  I gasped for breath and held my sides as if my burning lungs might come bursting out of my ribcage. I was not an Olympic sprinter, not even close, and now, because I’d told my sister to take the car, I’d have to limp the three miles home.

  I texted my sister as promised and told her I was leaving the village and planned to be home in an hour. I guessed it would take me at least that long to walk to the cottage at a leisurely pace.

  As I walked on the cobblestone streets, I kept my eye out for Seth, but there was no sign of him. If I hadn’t thought he was up to something before, I definitely did now.

  I walked down Prince Street, where my shop and the Twisted Fox were located, and double-checked the door to the Climbing Rose. It was locked up tight, and I was happy to see there were no threatening notes taped to the door. I walked by the Twisted Fox and could hear Celtic music playing inside the pub. Raj must have hired a band for the night. I was almost tempted to go inside and tap my toes with the rest of them, but I knew I had to be getting home. Isla would be worried if I wasn’t back within the hour as promised.

  I quickened my pace and headed down Prince Street, out of the shopping district, over the troll bridge, and past the roundabout with the unicorn statue in the middle. I was about halfway to the cottage when I realized I was in no condition to make the trek. I was exhausted and cranky. I looked westward toward the setting sun.

  Sheep with spray-painted marks of pink, green, blue, and orange stood a few feet away, nibbling on the short grasses that grew along the green foothills of the mountains. Behind those foothills were the mountains themselves. There, heather-covered bases grew into sharp peaks with mounds of snow on the tops of them like whipped cream on a sundae. Above those mountains, the red-gold sun that was outlined in magenta waited to make its final descent for the night. Even more reason to give up walking back to the cottage.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and was about to text my sister to pick me up when a set of headlights blinded me. I held up my arm to protect my face and jumped to the side of the road.

  I stood on the shoulder of the road waiting for the car to pass, but it never did. The bright lights remained trained on me. The driver’s side door of the jeep opened, and my heart sank as the large form of a man exited the jeep. I felt a mingle of relief and dread when I recognized the man walking toward me. I knew I was in for it.

  Chief Inspector Neil Craig stood in the beam of his jeep’s headlights and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you doing out in the middle of the road? Where’s your car? Did you have an accident? Are you all right?”

  I blinked as my brain processed his rapid-fire questions. I ticked my answers off on my fingers as I spoke. “I’m walking home from the village. My car is fine. My sister drove it home a couple of hours ago. And I’m also fine.” I smiled, feeling quite pleased with myself that I could easily answer all his questions, and in order, too.

  He threw up his large hands. “Bloody hell, Fiona, a man was murdered and dumped in the sea, and you’re walking along a country road in the dark like you’re on a Sunday afternoon stroll through a garden. How naïve can you be?”

  Apparently, the chief inspector wasn’t as satisfied with my answers as I had been. “I’m not naïve,” I said.

  He folded his arms again. “Oh really?”

  “It’s not completely dark yet.” Just as I said that, the sun dropped below the mountains.

  “You were saying?” Craig asked.

  “Did you plan that?”

  He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you please get in the car? I’ll give you a lift home.”

  I had half a mind to turn down his offer, but I thought better of it. It went from twilight to pitch black rapidly in the mountains.

  I walked over to the jeep, but before I could open the door for myself, Craig opened it for me. I told myself that didn’t mean anything. I had seen him open car doors for criminals before. Of course, in those cases the criminal was usually in handcuffs and being shoved into the back seat of the jeep, but I wasn’t one for splitting hairs.

  I climbed in, and Craig closed the door after me without a word. He got into the driver seat and started the engine.

  I was quiet for a long minute. “Okay, maybe wa
lking home at night wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”

  He glanced at me. “Maybe?”

  “Hey, I’m trying to admit I was foolish here.”

  “And you are doing a bang-up job of it.” The side of his mouth twitched.

  I narrowed my eyes at him until I saw the slight upward turn of the corner of his mouth. “Chief Inspector Craig, are you teasing me?”

  “I never tease.” There was a full-on smile on his bearded face now.

  Now I was certain that he was teasing me.

  “Why did you walk home when you could have gone with your sister?” His tone was serious.

  “I wanted to take a walk around the harbor.”

  He glanced at me with his dark eyebrows raised. “You just happened to want to go for a walk around the harbor, a place that is mere feet away from where a dead body washed up yesterday morning.” He returned his attention to the road.

  “I did. The harbor is beautiful in the evening.”

  “I won’t argue with you on that point, but I know you went there to meddle in the investigation. It would save us both a lot of time if you just came out with it and told me what you learned.”

  I was quiet for a minute, and then I said, “Since you asked so nicely, I spoke to the old men at the docks.”

  “I spoke with them too.”

  “Not Old Milton, you didn’t.”

  “Old Milton?”

  “He was one of the three men at the docks tonight, and he wasn’t there when you interviewed the others. He’s missing a leg; a shark took it.” I saw no reason to ruin the old fisherman’s tale. “Old Milton said he saw the minister and a man by the name of Remy Kenner arguing at the entrance to the dock before the storm. They told me to stay away from him. Have you heard of Remy Kenner?”

  Craig took a deep breath. “Rembrandt Kenner. Yes, I know him. He’s trouble with a capital T. I’ve arrested him countless times on charges of possession, assault, and domestic violence. Those old codgers were right to warn you away from him. Please promise me you won’t approach him.”

  I ignored his request. “Rembrandt Kenner? That seems quite a name to live up to.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s why everyone calls him Remy. Everyone knows he won’t amount to anything.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “That seems like a harsh statement.”

  “After you see Remy, which I’m sure you will at some point in a village as small as Bellewick, tell me if the statement isn’t harsh enough.”

  “You said he’s been arrested for domestic violence. Does he have a family?”

  “Yes, a wife and a son. Claudia Kenner, his wife, is one of the sweetest women you will ever meet. It is a complete mystery to everyone as to why she stays with him. I wish I could say I think she will leave him someday, but I have seen bad relationships like theirs too many times before. Some of them end very badly. The little boy is about two, and his name is Byron. I have appealed to Claudia many times to leave Remy for the boy’s sake.”

  I shivered. “So do you think Remy is the type to drown the minister?”

  “If he had a reason to, yes,” he said, as if he had no doubt in his mind. “I don’t think it would be completely random, but if Remy became angry enough, there is no limit to what he might do.”

  It seemed to me that Remy Kenner was becoming more and more like a viable suspect. “I wonder what he was arguing with the minister about, then.”

  “I plan to find out just as soon as I drop you off safely at Duncreigan, watch you go into the cottage, and lock the door behind you.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  I shifted in my seat. “I could come with you. An extra set of ears and eyes might pick up on something, and if he really is that awful, you might need backup. The only police—or sort of police—in the village right now is Kipling, and he isn’t much help for anything.”

  “Fiona, no. Remy Kenner is not a man to trifle with. As far as I’m concerned, I would much rather he never knew that you existed. It’s safer for you that way.”

  “You sound almost afraid of him.” I studied his profile.

  “I’m not afraid of him for myself, but I do fear what he could do to people who aren’t prepared to deal with a man like him. He could hurt you. He would hurt you.” He turned and looked at me with worry in his eyes. “I would never forgive myself if that happened.”

  “It wouldn’t be your fault,” I said.

  “If you were hurt by him,” he said, “it would be my fault because I didn’t make it clear enough how foolhardy speaking to him actually was.”

  As much as I hated the chief inspector telling me not to talk to another citizen of the village, a small part of me was touched by his concern. I told myself he would be concerned about all the citizens under his care in the same way. I was nothing special to him. It was something that I was starting to repeat to myself more and more often.

  “In any case, I don’t believe the minister was killed at the harbor.”

  I looked at him. “Oh?”

  “From his preliminary investigation, the coroner said there was fresh water in the minister’s lungs. My guess he was drowned somewhere else in fresh water and then dumped into the sea with the hope that the storm would take care of his remains.”

  I shivered at the thought as we came up the long-graveled road that led to the cottage at Duncreigan. The jeep’s headlights fell on the cottage, and its bright beams outlined my sister, standing in the front doorway and hugging a distressed-looking Ivanhoe to her chest. I didn’t know if Ivanhoe was distressed because he wondered what had become of me or because Isla was hugging the life out of him.

  My sister dropped the cat inside the cottage and closed the door. “Fi! Where have you been? You said you would be home an hour ago. I’ve been texting you and you haven’t answered. I thought you were dead!”

  I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. Sure enough, there were ten text messages from my sister. “I’m sorry, Isla,” I said. “I must have had the phone on silent and didn’t hear it. But I’m fine. I left the village later than expected, and Chief Inspector Craig was kind enough to give me a ride home.”

  Isla brushed her silky blonde hair over her shoulder and looked up at the six-five police officer. “Thank you so much for taking care of my sister. It’s nice to know that the police in Aberdeenshire are conscientious of the welfare of their citizens.”

  I stood behind the chief inspector and just stopped myself from making a gagging gesture at my sister. I might have, too, if I hadn’t been afraid that Craig would see me out of the corner of his eye.

  “It was no trouble,” Craig said gallantly.

  I stepped between them. “Thank you again for the ride, Chief Inspector, but we won’t keep you. I know that you have much work to do.”

  A smile widened across his face as if he knew exactly what I was up to. That was saying something, because I had no idea.

  “I’ll walk you to your jeep,” I said.

  Craig said good-bye to Isla and followed me back to his car. He opened the door to the jeep and held it. “So that information about Remy Kenner was the only thing you learned at the harbor tonight? There’s nothing else?” He searched my face.

  Biting my lip, I looked away. I wanted to tell him my suspicions about Seth MacGregor, but I didn’t feel I could do that until I spoke to Hamish. He had a right to know his great-nephew was back in the village and possibly tangled up in trouble again before the police knew about it. I would have to tell Craig in time, just not yet.

  “He’s the only person Old Milton said he saw with the minister,” I said, technically telling the truth.

  He nodded and looked back at the house. “How long is your sister staying here?”

  My heart dropped, and I glanced over my shoulder. Isla had gone inside, but she and Ivanhoe were watching from the window by the dining room table. Her pretty face was clearly visible, and I bit the inside of my lip. I should have expected something like
this. Isla was young, beautiful, and full of energy. It was little wonder that a man like the chief inspector was interested in her. It made sense. Then why did it make me so upset?

  I shook the cobwebs from my head. “I’m not sure. It might be longer than I first thought. She got a job waitressing at the Twisted Fox today. She just graduated college and is trying to find her footing in the real world.”

  He smiled. “They why on earth did she come to Bellewick? This is nothing close to the real world.”

  I shrugged, knowing that the chief inspector was trying to be funny, but I couldn’t muster a laugh.

  “Yes, well.” Craig frowned. “You might want to consider another form of transportation to travel to and from the village if she plans to be here long. You can’t be walking home on the road at night, and certainly not in the winter. There are many twists and turns, and add snow and ice, it becomes quite dangerous.”

  I shivered. “I can’t imagine Isla staying here all the way to the winter, so it will be a nonissue then.”

  “You never can be certain. She might find a reason to stay,” he said.

  My heart sank a little bit more, but the chief inspector didn’t seem to notice, since he went on to say, “This place takes a hold of you, and it doesn’t let go. Many people who grew up and swore they’d leave the village, never to return, come back in the end. It has a way of doing that. Look at yourself; you’re here.”

  “I’m here because it’s what Uncle Ian wished. It didn’t have anything to do with a pull of the land.”

  “It’s the garden that pulled you here,” he said.

  “Maybe,” I murmured. “That’s what my godfather would have wanted me to believe.”

  “I should go,” he said with some reluctance. “I want to pay Remy Kenner a visit before I return to Aberdeen for the night.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “If he is as awful as you say he is, be careful. Please.”

  He studied me. “I will. Tell your sister that I said good-bye.”