Death and Daisies

by Amanda Flower

  They dropped me on hardwood. I could smell fish and the sea. I felt like I was still at the docks, but I didn’t know exactly where. I tried to cry out, but my mouth refused to open.

  Suddenly, the tarp was stolen from me and I shot out of it like a bullet from a gun. With a splash, I was in the sea and I was sinking down, down, down to the bottom with the minister’s face floating below me.

  Finding my voice at last, I screamed and sat bolt upright in the middle of my bed in the cottage. I waited for my sister’s return scream that told me I had scared her awake, but it never came. That’s when I remembered she hadn’t come home with me the night before. She was somewhere in the village with Seth. I didn’t know if it was realizing that or the terrifying nightmare that caused my nausea, but I had to take several shallow breaths to stop myself from throwing up.

  Ivanhoe stood at the end of the bed and arched his back in fear. I fell back on my pillow, breathing hard, willing myself to calm down and breathe more normally.

  Had that been a vision or just an anxiety-induced dream? I couldn’t be sure.

  I’d had dreams before that were made up of the visions I had received from touching the menhir, but this vision didn’t seem to be connected to the one I’d had of struggling in the mud with a knee in the middle of my back. In the past, my visions had been peeks into the future. Was I to be thrown into the sea like the minister had?

  Ivanhoe padded across the bed to me and purred in my ear. I struggled to a sitting position and braced my back against the headboard.

  Grabbing the cat, I pulled him close to my chest, and got ahold of my cell phone. The time read one in the morning. I groaned. I’d thought for certain it would be much later. I had a whole night in front of me to remember the dream.

  Before I could change my mind, I called Chief Inspector Craig.

  “Fiona, what’s wrong?” His voice was groggy but alert.

  “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.” I wished I could hang up the phone and pretend I’d never called him. What was I doing calling Craig in the middle of the night?

  “Fiona, tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay?” He sounded much more awake now.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  “Where are you?” His voice was sharp.

  “I’m at home, and I’m fine, honest. I just called you because …” I trailed off. How lame would it sound if I said I’d just called him because I’d had a bad dream? I had never been a damsel in distress, and I wasn’t going to start taking on the role now.

  “Is your sister there with you?” he asked.

  “No, she didn’t come home last night. She’s with her fiancé.”

  “Her fiancé? Is this new? Did you know this was happening?”

  “It’s new, and no, I didn’t know about it until I caught them behind the Twisted Fox together. That’s when she told me that they were getting married.”

  “Who is she marrying? Is it someone from the U.S.? Did he fly over to see her?”

  “Oh no,” I said, becoming increasingly aware of how uncomfortable this conversation was making me. Calling Craig had been a bad idea, a very bad idea. “You should have talked me out of calling him,” I whispered to the cat curled up in my lap.

  He purred in response.

  “What?” Craig asked. “What did you say?”

  “It’s Seth MacGregor.”

  “Seth MacGregor!” He was fully awake now. “How?”

  “I don’t know the particulars, but it seems that it was love at first sight. They’ve known each other for all of two weeks.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been seeing Seth in the village lately. He and Isla were trying to keep their relationship a secret from me. They thought I wouldn’t approve.”

  “You’ve been seeing Seth in the village? Why are you just telling me this now?”

  I inwardly groaned. I shouldn’t have mentioned that at all, but at least there was no reason for me to connect Seth with the murder now. “It never came up,” I said.

  “How do you feel about Isla and Seth?” His voice was gentle, gentler than I deserved so late at night.

  “She’s twenty-two years old. There’s really nothing I can do to change the situation. It’s her life, and I have to let her live it.”

  “Are you talking yourself into that point of view?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Is this why you called me, because you are dealing with your sister’s surprise engagement? Because if it is, I’m flattered that you would come to me with your personal problems.”

  I was grateful that Craig wasn’t in the room with me, because a blush crept up into my hairline.

  “It’s not the reason. I—I had a dream—a vision.”

  Craig was quiet for a long moment.

  “Are you still there?” I asked the silence on the phone.

  “I’m still here. Is it like the vision you had last time when Alastair Croft died?”

  “Not exactly. I think I saw Minister MacCullen being dumped in the sea.” Before I could lose my courage, I went on to describe the dream in more detail, but I left out the part about me being dumped in the sea. There was no reason to upset the chief inspector unnecessarily.

  “You saw him be murdered?”

  “I think he was already dead by the time my vision began. At least he was limp. A pair of hands threw him overboard into the waves.”

  “What did the hands look like?”

  “I—I don’t remember,” I said, feeling disappointed with myself. I should have concentrated more on the details of the vision—if it was in fact a vision.

  “Did you see any faces? Can you remember anyone that you saw?”

  I thought back to the dream and shivered as I remembered what it was like to sink down into the sea.

  “Fiona? Are you all right?” Craig’s voice was urgent.

  “I’m fine. The only face I remember is the minister’s while he was sinking into the water.” I shivered. “I’m sorry that I can’t be more of a help.”

  “You are a help. It fits with what the coroner found.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You found the place where he died. The water in the rain barrels matched the water in his lungs, and now you have told me where he was pitched into the sea.”

  “That was fast.”

  “I pulled a few strings,” the chief inspector said. “I think I agreed to buy the lab tech lunch for a year or something to give my case priority.”

  “You believe me about the vision?”

  “Your visions have been right in the past. I’m not in a place to question them.”

  I felt myself relax against the headboard. It was impossible for Craig to know how happy it made me to hear that.

  “Don’t tell anyone, not even you sister, about this vision. I think it could be dangerous for you if anyone else in the village knows about it. A secret like that can pass like wildfire, and I can almost guarantee whoever killed Minister MacCullen will hear about it. That makes you a target.”

  I considered this.

  “Please listen to me, Fiona. Concentrate on your garden and the flower shop. Leave the investigating to me.”

  I couldn’t do that, but I didn’t tell Craig that. “Why did you let Remy Kenner go?”

  “How do you know that?”

  Now I’ve put my foot in it.

  “We have no evidence to tie him to the murder,” he said finally, when I didn’t reply. “And I know you saw Remy today—or I suppose it was yesterday now, since it’s after midnight. I got a call from Presha.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “She told me what happened. As much as I hate the idea of you being a target for Remy, you did the right thing by protecting Claudia and her son.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “My officers are looking for Remy now. Claudia has finally agreed to press charges against him for years of abuse. But this is why I don’t like the idea of you being at Duncreigan alone.”<
br />
  I shivered. Remy knew where I lived. If he was mad enough, I could see him coming to Duncreigan.

  He paused for a moment. “Do you want me to come out there? I can be there in thirty-five minutes. Twenty if I use my sirens.”

  “Please don’t; it was just a dream, and Remy has probably left the village by now. He said there was some business for him in Aberdeen,” I said, sounding braver than I actually felt.

  “Selling drugs, I’m sure,” Craig said. “He’s been in the business for years. With Claudia willing to speak against her husband now, we might finally get to lock him up.” He paused. “And Fiona, we both know your dreams are not just dreams. This sounds serious. What if it predicts the future like your other visions have? I don’t like the idea of you out there alone.”

  “I’m not alone. Ivanhoe is there.”

  “Is he going to scratch the killer?”

  “The doors are locked. There is no way anyone can get inside. I’ll be fine.” Another thought struck me. “I hope you weren’t too upset by the news of Isla’s engagement.”

  “What?”

  “I—I just hope that you weren’t disappointed she is with someone else.”

  “What are you talking about?” He sounded irritated now.

  “Um.” I should have stopped talking when he told me about Remy, but my mouth had gotten in the way again.

  “Do you think I have romantic feelings for your sister?” There was disbelief in his voice.

  “The two of you seemed to hit it off.”

  He laughed.

  Again, my face turned bright red, and again, I was happy he couldn’t see me.

  “Fiona, I have no interest in your sister romantically. I only talked to her because I know you care so much about her.”

  “Oh?” Relief whooshed into my body like a large wave against the coast.

  “It was you I was trying to impress. You’re the one I have feelings for.”

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, you. It’s always been you.”

  I was speechless.

  “And if you need me, call me anytime.”

  “But—”

  He sighed. “I don’t say these things just because. Call me, Fiona. Any. Time.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I woke up the next morning under a pile of clothes. I hadn’t been able to sleep after my conversation with Craig, so I’d decided to start unpacking the boxes my mother had shipped to Scotland. So far, I’d found a number of tanks tops, shorts, and sundresses. Although those clothes had been great for my life during a sweltering Tennessee summer, they weren’t the most practical fashion choices in northern Scotland. My mother had also sent my ice skates. I didn’t see me using those anytime soon either. I stood up and dropped my ice skates into the closest open box. Maybe I should have been more specific when I’d asked my mother to ship some of my things to Scotland. Clearly, letting her choose at random hadn’t worked.

  I pushed the pile of clothes off me and onto the floor. Unpacking had been a very bad idea. The cottage looked worse than ever, but there was no way I could blame Isla for its current condition. I had to get out of the cottage even though it was only six in the morning.

  I showered and dressed for the day. I checked my phone from time to time for anything from my sister, but there wasn’t a single text from her in response to the dozens of “I’m sorry” texts I had sent. When I was ready, I gathered up my purse and a jacket and headed for the door. It was still before seven in the morning.

  Ivanhoe followed me. “I’ll take you to the shop tomorrow. There’s too much going on right now, and I don’t know what the day will bring. I don’t want you to be stuck in the shop so long alone like you were yesterday.”

  He butted my shin with the top of his round head.

  “No.” I wagged my finger at him. “No amount of head butts are going to get me to change my mind.”

  He meowed plaintively, walked over to his cozy cat bed by the fireplace, and lay down with as much drama as any actress from the silver screen.

  I wanted to go to the garden, but the memory of all I had learned from my godfather’s wooden box washed over me. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face my godfather—even if he was only in fox form. I needed more time. I would deal with the mess that I had made with my sister and then deal with Uncle Ian.

  I didn’t have to open the Climbing Rose until ten, so I still had three hours. The Twisted Fox opened at eight, but I didn’t want to go there on the off chance I would run into Isla and Seth, and I wasn’t ready for that.

  I pushed open the door to Presha’s Teas. Most of the tables were full of men and women in business suits, as well as construction workers. The inside of the shop was pleasantly warm, and a wave of scents washed over me. The dough of the scones, the spice from Presha’s famous chai, and a hint of lavender. My stomach growled.

  The tea shop was one of the most popular businesses in the village. The entire space was decked out in purple tartan and thistle. The only nod to Presha’s own heritage was a shrine to Ganesh in the corner of the room.

  Claudia and Byron sat at a small table in the corner—the little boy on his mother’s lap was happily playing with his dinosaurs. I smiled at her, but she didn’t return the gesture. I wondered if I should talk to her or leave her be.

  Presha set a plate of scones on a table for a group of ladies. She waved at me and handed her tray to one of her servers. She wove through the tables toward me. “Fiona, it’s not often I see you in the village this early. Haven’t you told me many times that you have trouble waking up in the morning?”

  I smiled. “Usually that’s true.”

  She studied my face. “You didn’t sleep well, did you?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.” She smiled. “And the dark circles under your eyes were a giveaway.”

  I groaned. “Great.”

  She smiled. “You need some scones and tea, and you will be just fine.” She led me to the one empty table in the shop by the front window.

  I sat and had a clear view of the village. Mothers and fathers walked with their children, and villagers hurried off to work. Older ladies carried empty canvas bags to the market to do their daily shopping.

  As the waitress walked by, Presha said, “Erin, bring us two scones and chai.”

  Erin nodded and returned to the kitchen.

  “How are Claudia and Byron?” I asked, glancing over at them.

  Presha smiled. “They will be all right. Claudia and Byron will stay with me until the mess with Remy gets sorted. After that, we will help them get back on their feet, won’t we?”

  I nodded.

  “Between my brother and me, we can give her enough work to stay in the village.” Presha folded her hands on the tartan tablecloth. “Now, tell me what is bothering you. Is it the murder?”

  “Yes and no.” I sighed. “Mostly right now it’s my sister. We got into a terrible fight last night.”

  “Because of Seth?”

  I stared at her. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve seen them in the village together, and they appeared to be very much in love.” She smiled.

  My mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was Isla’s place to tell you. I knew she would in time.”

  I inwardly groaned. I should have expected this answer from Presha. She’d had a similar answer when I’d asked her why she hadn’t told me the garden I’d inherited was magical. She’d said it was my godfather’s place to tell me, which had been tricky since he was dead.

  I sighed. “She didn’t come home last night. I know I overreacted with her. I just was so surprised. She’s only known Seth for two weeks. How can she decide that she’s ready to marry someone in two weeks?”

  Presha smiled but remained silent.

  Erin returned with the chai and scones.

  I reached for one of the scones and set i
t on a small plate in front of me. “It would never work for me like that.” I cut the scone in half and slathered both sides with butter and strawberry jam. Usually I wasn’t so liberal with the butter, but I was an emotional eater, so I gave myself a pass.

  She studied me and said nothing as I added more jam to my scone. Finally, she poured chai in my waiting teacup and said, “Because you would never allow yourself to fall in love so quickly.”

  Maybe what she said was true, but that didn’t change the fact that I was wired much differently than my carefree sister.

  I shook my head. “I need to talk to her and let her know that I love her. Whatever happens, she will always be my sister.”

  “It seems to me that you already know what to do then. You came here for advice, did you not?”

  I nodded. “And this.” I held up the scone. “It takes the edge off.”

  She laughed. “All will be well with Isla, but you must let her live her own life. She may be happy with Seth. You need to let her find out if that is true for herself.”

  The door to the tea shop flew open, and Emer entered. As always, her husband Douglas was a few paces behind her.

  I choked down my too-big bite of scone. I would have to take a far less aggressive bite next time.

  Emer smiled. “Presha, do you have the biscuits ready for us?”

  Presha pushed a cup of chai in front of me. “Drink this.”

  I didn’t know how a cup of her spicy chai would make me stop coughing, but I dutifully took a sip. It burned my throat all the way down, but the coughing ceased.

  “Yes, the shortbread is ready.” She nodded to Erin, who hurried into the kitchen and came back a second later with three white bakery boxes.

  “These will do so nicely.” She nodded to her husband. “Douglas, you will take these?”

  He stumbled forward and took the boxes before shuffling back to his place behind his wife.

  “Would you like some tea before you go?” Presha asked.

  “Tea would be lovely, but please make it to go,” Emer said. “There is much to do today. I believe that Carver will be making his final assessment of the chapel ruins today. With that, we can apply to be a historical site.”

  Presha nodded at Erin. “Two teas in takeaway cups for Emer and Douglas, please.”