Death and Daisies

by Amanda Flower

  “It would be easier to get on the registry if I can prove the site has some sort of historical significance to the area. That’s what the minister hired me to do.”

  “The church is paying you to be here.”

  He laughed. “You think I’m doing this for free? I’m a poor academic. I can’t just walk away from my own research if the price isn’t right.” He paused. “I have been meaning to talk to you—”

  “Fiona!” A voice shouted my name. “Fiona!”

  “Sounds to me like someone’s father is calling her home for dinner,” Carver said.

  I frowned and backed away from the historian. There was something calculated about the man that I didn’t like. If what he said was true, he would have had no reason to kill Minister MacCullen, as far as I knew. That didn’t mean I had to trust him, though.

  “It was nice talking to you,” I said, and headed back to the community garden.

  “You too, Fiona, you too,” Carver said.

  As I walked back through the field of daisies, Craig saw me and threw up his hands. “I told you to stay by the community garden. What on earth were you doing?”

  I frowned. “I was looking for Malcolm. I thought he wandered over to the chapel ruins. I knew you would have wanted to talk to him. You can see them from the garden.”

  “I couldn’t see you!” he cried.

  I folded my arms and studied him. “Chief Inspector, I think you need to calm down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

  “The only person who is going to give me a heart attack is you, Fiona Knox,” he muttered under his breath. “You don’t know how I felt when I couldn’t find you. Did you even think about that?”

  “Chief Inspector, are you scared?” I let my arms drop to my sides.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m scared for you, Fiona. I know you tend to run off and do stupid things like talk to murder suspects without me. Don’t you understand that someone who has committed murder once is more likely to do it again?”

  I clenched my teeth. “Of course I know that. That’s why I’m here. I want to find out what happened!”

  He took a step toward me. “That’s not your job.” He pointed at himself. “That’s my job.”

  Before I could protest more, he went on to say, “You shouldn’t be anywhere close to this church. You’re making yourself a target again. Wasn’t last time enough for you?”

  I was about to snap back at the chief inspector when I studied his face a little bit closer. He was actually scared for me. This wasn’t a territory thing for him. This wasn’t me getting in the way of his job. He had actual concern on his face … for me. “I—I—” I was at a loss for words because I was genuinely touched by his concern, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to promise him I would stay out of the investigation. I had to protect myself and my reputation, and I had promised Hamish I would look into Seth’s involvement, if there was any at all.

  Thankfully, the chief inspector saved me from making any false promises by gaping at my muddy coat as if he was seeing it for the first time. “What happened to you?” he asked.

  My face turned bright red. “Ummm. I took a little spill in the chapel ruins. The ground is a bit uneven there.”

  He wiped a hand down the side of his face and closed his eyes. “I can see it will do me no good to continue to lecture you.”

  I smiled. “Finally, something we both agree on.”

  Craig rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “Just show me what you found.”

  I walked him over to the rain barrel and explained my theory that the minister’s head had been pushed into the water and held there until he drowned. “The water flow was interrupted, so Malcolm asked me to stick my hand in there and pull out whatever was stuck. His hand was too big to fit.” I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out the medallion. The broken chain dangled between my fingers. “This was blocking the opening.”

  Craig took the jewelry from my hand. “This is the minister’s. I recognize it. It was something he always wore.”

  “That’s what Malcolm said, too.”

  “Malcolm knows you found this?” He weighed the large medallion in his hand as if his hand were a scale of some sort.

  I nodded. “I told you he was the one who told me to stick my hand in the hole, and he saw me pull it out. He wanted to take it back to the church for safekeeping, but I didn’t give it to him. I thought that I should give it to you, which is why I called you here.”

  “Thanks for that.” He pulled a small plastic evidence bag out of his pocket. I had learned from the previous murder investigation that Chief Inspector Neil Craig had all sorts of odds and ends hidden in his coat. He was sort of like Inspector Gadget that way. The funniest part was that, by the way the coat hung on his body, you wouldn’t know he was carrying so many things on his person. It was a baffling accomplishment in sport jacket engineering as far as I was concerned.

  “Was he wearing it when you saw him outside the Climbing Rose just before the storm?”

  I nodded. “He was.”

  “Well, this might be just what we need to pin down the time of death. It’s been a little hard to determine. His body was badly bruised from being thrown this way and that in the sea, and all the salt water his body absorbed impacted the estimated time of death, too. This will be very helpful indeed.”

  I smiled.

  He frowned. “I still don’t think you should be involved in this.”

  “You wouldn’t have found the medallion without me,” I exclaimed.

  “Malcolm would have found it when he tried to water the garden.”

  “He would have found it, but would he have known its importance? Would he have thought to give it to you?” I folded my arms. “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, I agree with you that it was lucky that you were here when the medallion was discovered, but I can solve this case without your help or luck.”

  Malcolm came out of the back of the church.

  I blinked. I had seen him go out the garden gate. How had he circled back and gotten inside the church without me spotting him?

  “Chief Inspector,” he said. “I thought I saw your car. Fiona gave you the medallion, then?”

  Craig left me standing in the middle of the community garden and walked over to the sexton. “She did.” He tucked the evidence bag holding the medallion into one of the many interior pockets of his coat. I wondered if his sport jacket was standard issue for chief inspectors in Scottish police departments or if he had them specially made.

  “She told me she would,” Malcolm said. “She seems to think that it might have something to do with the minister’s death, but I can’t see how.”

  “I will take it back to the lab just in case, and I am calling in my crime scene techs to take in these water barrels. I want them thoroughly searched and the water tested.”

  Malcolm, who was an inch taller that Craig, glared down at the chief inspector. “I need the rain barrels, Chief Inspector. I need to be able to water the garden.”

  “You will have to use village water until the rain barrels have been examined.” Craig’s tone left no room for argument.

  Malcolm folded his arms across his chest and appeared to be settling in for a good long pout.

  I glanced back over my shoulder at the chapel ruins. Carver Finley leaned on the side of the shed, watching us with a small smile playing on his lips. It was clear he’d been listening to the conversation. How long had he been there? Had he heard the conversation I had had with Craig and my suspicions about the rain barrel too?

  The historian wiggled his fingers at me and smiled. Goosebumps broke out on my arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I was about to tell Chief Inspector Craig about seeing Carver, but when I turned back around to face the church, I saw a third person had joined him and Malcolm just outside the church’s back door. Emer Boyd stood in front of Craig with her perfectly manicured hands on her narrow hips. She and Malcolm stared a
t Craig with the same frustrated expression.

  The head of the village’s welcome committee and church treasurer waved her arms in the air. “Chief Inspector Craig, you have to tell me what is going on. I represent the church now that the minister has passed.”

  “There has been a discovery related to the minister’s death at the church.”

  She put her hand to her chest. “In the sanctuary? Who would defile a church in such a terrible way?”

  “It was outside the actual building of the church.”

  “I thought the minister drowned in the ocean.” She scowled.

  “We know that he was dumped in the ocean. That’s how he washed ashore, but the coroner is certain that he had fresh water in his lungs. Minister MacCullen didn’t drown in the ocean.”

  She shook her head. “Even so, it can’t have anything to do with the church or the chapel ruins.”

  “Who said anything about the ruins?” Craig asked.

  Emer blushed. “I just assumed that’s what you were going to say next. I believe that if you see what is going on with the chapel ruins and all the good that St. Thomas’s is doing in the village and beyond, you will agree with me that no one related to the church could have had anything to do with the minister’s tragic death. As you can imagine, the congregation is devastated by the news.”

  I felt my brow go up. Devastated by the news? Hadn’t Malcolm told me that most of them weren’t happy about the idea of spending so much money on the project? It seemed to me someone was lying. In this case, I was more inclined to believe the sexton. I had a feeling Emer was the sort to insist everything was fine when it so clearly was not.

  “To thoroughly investigate the murder, I have to investigate all aspects of the minister’s life. Of course, the church will be at the forefront of that investigation. It was the cornerstone of the man’s life. The techs are already on their way here.”

  Emer opened and closed her mouth and then looked beyond me. “Carver, thank heavens, you’re here!” She pushed Craig aside and walked toward the historian, who was still leaning against the garden shed with that cocky smirk on his face.

  He straightened up as Emer marched toward him.

  “Can you show the chief inspector the chapel ruins? Then he might understand why it is so important to not associate the minister’s death with what’s going on over there. I believe if he sees the ruins close up, he will understand.” She turned back to Craig. “If the chapel ruins get a poor reputation for being associated with the murder, we could lose our chance of being made a national historic site.”

  “I don’t see how,” I said, speaking up for the first time since Emer had arrived.

  She blinked at me as if she was noticing me for the first time. “Fiona Knox, what are you doing here?”

  “She was here to talk to me,” Malcolm answered.

  I glanced over at the church sexton, surprised that he had come so quickly to my aid when he’d appeared so irritated with me less than an hour ago when I’d refused to turn over the minister’s medallion to him.

  Emer narrowed her blue-violet eyes as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Is there anyone else at the church I should let know what’s going on?” Craig asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Everything can go through me. I’ll relay whatever you tell me to the church elders.”

  He nodded. “That works for me.”

  Just then, two men in uniform carrying black backpacks and bags came around the side of the church.

  “If you will excuse me,” Craig said, then walked around to confer with the two techs. He pointed at the garden shed and the rain barrels as he spoke.

  Emer made a motion like she was about to run her hand through her perfectly styled hair and stopped herself just in time. “This is just awful,” she said. “Poor Minister MacCullen and poor St. Thomas’s. This is such a bad mark on the church’s good name.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about how this will hurt the church’s reputation,” I said. “Yes, it’s a tragedy, but a church as old as St. Thomas’s must have weathered many scandals and storms in its day.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Aye, that she has. Listen to the lass, Emer; this too shall pass.”

  Carver folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not certain of that.”

  “I don’t understand how it can hurt the chapel ruins’ chances of being declared a site on the national register,” I said. “Aren’t most of the sites on the register sites of violence? Garrisons and castles and the like?”

  Carver arched an eyebrow at me. “You seem to be very interested in all of this for an outsider.”

  “You’re an outsider too,” I countered.

  “Ah, but I’m being paid to be here. I am certain that you are not, and from the conversation I heard earlier, I believe the chief inspector would much rather not have you anywhere near his murder investigation.” He smiled. “Or am I wrong?”

  I scowled in return. I couldn’t believe I’d thought this man was handsome the first time I’d seen him in the Twisted Fox. Any attractive qualities he’d had melted away in that moment.

  Craig rejoined us. “The techs are working, so Emer”—he turned to face her—“if you would like me to see the chapel ruins to better understand what you’re talking about, I have the time.”

  She clapped her hands. “Thank you, Chief Inspector. I’m sure that when you see what we are doing here, you will understand how important this is to the church and to the village as a whole.” She waved to Carver. “Will you lead the way?”

  “Certainly,” Carver said, and pivoted in the direction of the ruins.

  We walked through the daisies again. I plucked one of the daisies from the field and tucked it behind my right ear.

  Craig glanced back and didn’t seem the least bit surprised that I was following the trio to the chapel ruins. I was grateful he didn’t tell me to leave and stay out of police business.

  Carver stood by the four-by-fours holding up the one remaining wall. “This church was built in the twelfth century. This was pre-Reformation, so the worshipers here were Catholic. The interesting thing I have found so far is that they seem to have mixed some of the traditional Celtic beliefs with the new Christianity. That wasn’t uncommon. When Christianity came to what is today the United Kingdom, the missionaries and priests used many druid and Celt religious symbols to help them explain the trinity and other Christian concepts.”

  I thought about the dozens of tiny triskeles carved into the menhir back in the garden. Uncle Ian had told me that the symbol represented the trinity, but in the Celtic world it had represented the cycles of life: birth, life, and death.

  As Carver spoke, Malcolm walked through the daisies and stood on the edge of the conversation.

  Carver ignored the newcomer and continued his lecture. “If you will look here, there is a triskele carved into the stone. Clearly it was carved when the building was constructed centuries ago. What I think is significant is that triskeles are much more commonly found in stone in Ireland. This is the first one that I have seen in Aberdeenshire or even in Scotland as a whole.”

  Again, I thought of my menhir back in the garden. I wasn’t going to tell Carver Finley that the same symbol was carved into the stone there. The last thing I wanted was for the eager historian to come poking around my garden.

  Craig was watching me. I knew he was remembering the carvings on the menhir too. I gave him a small smile, and he nodded in return. I blew out a breath, knowing that meant he wasn’t planning to tell Carver about my stone.

  However, since the two had the same carving on them, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were connected in some way.

  “I believe,” Carver went on, “the existence of the triskele carvings gives this site historical significance, and it should be preserved for future study. At the forefront, this one remaining wall needs to be shored up and preserved. That’s where most of the money for this project will go. I do believe it has a good chance of being
a national historic site.”

  “But not if the site is tarnished with the minister’s murder,” Emer said.

  Craig looked as if he was about to say something, but before he could, Malcolm pointed at the pit where I had fallen. “Doesn’t look to me like you are keeping a very clean job site. That dirt is so uneven.”

  Carver pressed his lips together. “Fiona knows that pit very well. I found her lying in the middle of it not too long ago.”

  My face flushed red, and I cursed the fair Scottish complexion I’d inherited from my father. “I tripped and fell in.”

  “Were you hurt?” Emer asked, sounding concerned. I wasn’t certain if she was more concerned about me or about any lawsuit that I might bring against the church had I sustained an injury.

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just my pride was bruised, but my coat might not recover.”

  Emer nodded and appeared relieved.

  “It is helpful for me to see this site,” Craig said. “So thank you so for showing me. Many of the files we found in the church office were about the chapel ruins. It appears to me that the minister had been trying to jump-start this project for several decades before it came to pass.”

  “It was Emer who made it happen,” Malcolm said.

  Craig and I both studied the woman. “How so?” Craig asked.

  “Malcolm, really, I am not single-handedly responsible,” Emer protested.

  The old sexton shook his head. “Don’t be modest. Ye are responsible for it. Without you, the minister would never have been organized enough to raise the funds. Emer is a whiz with money. The church was very lucky when she agreed to be our treasurer.”

  “How long have you been church treasurer?” Craig asked.

  “Two years,” she said. “The previous church treasurer had been in the position for nearly twenty years until he stepped down. I have a background in accounting, so when the minister asked me to step in, I was happy to do it.”

  “Are you an accountant?” I asked.

  Emer glanced at me. “I was when Douglas and I lived in Aberdeen, but when we moved to the village so he could take the head teacher position, I gave up my accounting job in the city. I much prefer to do volunteer work now for the community and the church. I believe it is my place as first lady of the school.”