Allegra Fairweather: Paranormal Investigator

by Janni Nell

  I ran the last few yards to Stuart’s house.

  Anne was preparing afternoon tea. She served it to Stuart and me in the sitting room then took her own cup to another part of the house, allowing me to speak with him in private.

  “I think I’ll start smoking again,” he said as he stirred sugar into his tea. “I might as well, considering I dinnae have long to live.” He paused as though he wanted me to deny it. When I didn’t—I don’t like making promises I might not be able to keep—he asked, “Do you think McEwen and Malcolm were bitten before or after death?”

  “After,” I said quickly, hoping I was right. Maybe I was. The creature I had encountered last night hadn’t bitten me. Although I shuddered to think what might have happened if Casper hadn’t arrived in the nick of time.

  Stuart stared morosely into his tea. “I’ll miss Anne,” he mumbled. “I told her to marry again when I’m gone. But she told me to shut up. She doesn’t believe I’m going to die.”

  “Maybe you won’t.”

  He looked at me hopefully. “Do you think you can solve this case in time to save me?”

  “That depends on whether you can help me. I want you to tell me about the naked woman you saw.”

  A blush rose in his cheeks.

  I continued quickly, “Anything you tell me will be kept in the strictest confidence. I won’t tell the police.”

  “The police?” he sounded shocked. “Och, it’s not a crime to look at a naked woman. It’s not like we were peeping in her window or anything. She was out there for anyone to see. Even you could have seen her, lassie. On the night you arrived—that’s when we saw her.”

  “I wish I had seen her, Stuart.” From now on I had to go carefully. I had to make him believe that whatever he’d done I wouldn’t judge him for it. Fiddling with my teaspoon I said casually, “I’m sure the woman was very attractive. Did she come on to you, Stuart? To the three of you? Did things get a little out of hand?” I cringed at the euphemism, but I didn’t want to use the word rape. Not until I was sure.

  Stuart looked horrified. “What’re you suggesting? We dinnae touch her. None of us. What kind of men do you think we are?”

  I apologized but I wasn’t yet convinced he hadn’t touched the woman.

  “I’m not trying to insult you,” I said, “I’m merely trying to establish a motive for the deaths of McEwen and Melville. If she offered to have sex with the three of you… Well, I can see how tempting that would be. A beautiful woman. No strings attached. Who would blame you for saying yes?”

  “My wife would blame me.”

  “But if she didn’t know…”

  “Look, I dinnae touch the woman. And I’ve never been unfaithful to Anne.”

  “Okay.” I made my voice soothing. “I believe you didn’t touch the woman. That makes sense. After all, you’re still alive. But what about McEwen and Malcolm? They were both single. They had no good reason to refuse.”

  “You’ve got a dirty mind, you know that? None of us touched her.”

  I was beginning to believe him. I changed course. “Did you see the woman remove her clothes?”

  “No,” he said too quickly.

  He was lying but I let him get away with it. I would ask him about her clothing again later.

  “How long did you watch the woman?” I asked.

  “I dinnae know. Maybe five minutes.”

  I immediately doubled it. “What was she doing?”

  “For a while she stood by the shore.”

  “The shore? Not the wood?”

  “The shore,” he insisted. “We saw her near the rose.”

  A thought came to me. Could the woman they’d seen have been Scarlett Gordon? I asked if he knew her.

  He nodded. “She lives in Beag Glen.”

  “Was she the woman you saw near the loch?”

  He paused as though that was a possibility he hadn’t considered. “Well it was night, but there was plenty of moonlight.” He shook his head. “No, it definitely wasn’t Scarlett. Her hair wasn’t the same color.”

  “Okay.” But in my own mind I hadn’t ruled out the possibility the woman was Scarlett. She could have been wearing a wig. “Go on, Stuart, what happened next?”

  “The woman started to walk along the shore. After a while she did a wee dance and started running. Soon we couldn’t see her any more. So we went home.”

  “What were the three of you doing on that part of the shore? It’s a long walk from the village, especially at night.”

  “It’s not that far by car. I know Melville was too pissed to drive, but nobody uses that road at night. We weren’t going to crash.”

  This wasn’t the moment to give him a lesson on road safety. I held my tongue and he continued.

  “We went there,” said Stuart, “because McEwen wanted to see the bleeding rose. He had this crazy idea about picking it and giving it to Lady Justina because his heart was ‘bleeding for her’.” Stuart looked sheepish. “We were really pissed.”

  “Did McEwen try to pick the rose?” There were no records of anyone attempting to pick a Dedfield Rose, so no one knew the consequences. But considering the rosebush predicted disaster and death, I was pretty sure picking one of the blooms wasn’t a good idea. Maybe this was the reason he had been killed. Maybe something in the loch owned the rose and didn’t want it taken. Okay, that was a long shot, but I’ve solved stranger cases.

  “McEwen dinnae touch the rose. The lady was standing beside it when we arrived.”

  “I see. That must have been when you saw her take off her clothes.”

  “No—I mean, aye—”

  Anne interrupted to ask if we wanted more tea. I wondered how much of our conversation she’d overheard. I hoped she’d heard the part where Stuart insisted he’d never been unfaithful to her.

  Stuart got to his feet and said abruptly, “I have to mow the lawn now.”

  I glanced through the window. The lawn didn’t appear to need mowing. Either Stuart was obsessive about keeping his lawn trimmed or he didn’t want to talk to me anymore. The latter was unflattering but I thought it was closer to the truth.

  “Thanks for talking to me.” I made a mental note to talk to him again next time he came to Mac’s. He’d be more forthcoming if I loosened his tongue with a drop of Douglas’s best brew.

  When Stuart went to the shed to get his lawn mower, Anne showed me to the door.

  “Are you any closer to solving this mystery?” It was painfully obvious she didn’t care whether I solved the case. She was really asking whether Stuart was going to die.

  I wanted to give her hope. But false hope? That wasn’t fair.

  I compromised by saying, “I’ll do everything I can.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that,” she said, but I knew she was hoping for a miracle. I only hoped I could provide one.

  Looking for miracles took me down to the shore of the loch. I stood by the Dedfield Rose for a long time. I touched one of the blooms. The petals were the color of dried blood, so dark they were almost black. I squeezed gently and a bright drop appeared.

  A harsh voice said, “Stop touching that.”

  I whirled around. “Scarlett, what’re you doing here?”

  “I come here sometimes,” she said.

  “Why? It’s a long way from your cottage.”

  “I…um…I’m researching the rose. For a book.”

  “About witches?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t believe you.” I hadn’t meant to be confrontational but now the gloves were off I might as well continue. Bearing in mind the principle that if you shot off enough arrows you were bound to hit something, I said, “I think you belong to a coven. I think you’ve put a spell on the loch. There’s a creature in there. It’s killing the villagers.”

  “That’s not true.” Her words held no conviction.

  “Cut the crap, Scarlett. You look guilty as sin.”

  She took a step back. “If I was a witch, I’d put a sp
ell on you.” She turned to go but I grabbed her arm.

  “Maybe you’re not a witch,” I said, “but you know something.”

  “Only in regards to the research I’m doing for the book. You know as well as I that the Dedfield Rose heralds disaster. Now let me go.” She tried to shake off my hand but I held on tight.

  “If you’ve got anything to do with the deaths of McEwen and Malcolm I won’t stop until you pay for it.”

  Scarlett looked terrified. “You’ve got nothing on me. I dinnae kill those men.”

  In silence I studied her puckered brow and the eyes that were open just a little too wide. Despite her unease, I believed her. When I let go of her arm, she hurried away. Maybe you didn’t kill them, Scarlett, but you know something.

  * * *

  By the time I had returned from the rose, evening had descended on Loch Road and was gradually deepening into night. Lights were going on in the houses. Cooking aromas drifted into the street. Despite the coziness of these images I half expected to hear the shriek of the banshee. Luckily I didn’t. There were no Banns of Death to be called tonight but I didn’t think that would be the case for long.

  Once inside Mac’s I headed straight for the bar and asked Douglas for a double whiskey. This case was driving me to drink. Not good.

  “You look tired,” said Douglas setting my drink on the bar.

  I took a sip. It warmed me but it didn’t soothe my soul.

  “I thought I was getting closer to solving the case,” I told Douglas, “but I haven’t. I’ve gone backwards.”

  “What happened?”

  I was grateful he didn’t complain about wasting his money. He was paying me to solve this case and so far I’d come up with a big fat nothing.

  “Stuart has admitted The Three M’s saw a naked woman near the rose. I think she might be a witch—part of a local coven that includes Lady Justina and Scarlett Gordon.”

  “That sounds like progress,” he said. “But even if either of those women is involved in a coven, why would they kill McEwen and Malcolm?”

  “Good question. Problem is I don’t have an answer. Not yet.”

  “What if the woman wasn’t a witch,” suggested Douglas. “What if she was an ordinary woman who was harmed by The Three M’s? McEwen and Malcolm could’ve been killed for revenge.”

  “Stuart insists they didn’t harm her. According to him they didn’t even approach her.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Yeah.”

  Douglas frowned. “What if McEwen and Malcolm harmed her without Stuart’s knowledge?”

  “Stuart insists they all watched until she was out of sight.”

  Douglas looked as though he didn’t believe that. “The Three M’s drank at Mac’s every night. Stuart could easily have been so drunk he passed out while McEwen and Malcolm were doing…whatever it was they were doing. Stuart could have come to after it was over.”

  “It’s possible,” I said hesitantly.

  “Or, playing Devil’s Advocate,” continued Douglas, “Stuart could have killed McEwen and Malcolm.”

  It was a stretch, but stranger things have happened.

  “Okay, Douglas, I’ll play along. What was his motive?”

  “To silence them. Supposing Stuart was the one who’d had sex with the woman. McEwen and Malcolm could have threatened to tell Anne.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “How would Stuart have made the bite marks on their bodies?”

  “It would’ve been difficult,” Douglas conceded, “but not impossible. He could have used the jawbone of an animal.”

  “No, I don’t buy it.”

  “Aye,” agreed Douglas. “I guess the motive’s a bit shaky too.”

  “The real argument against our theories is that they don’t seem big enough to warrant an appearance of the Dedfield Rose. Sure there’s been death, but is that a big enough disaster? Will it disrupt the natural order of things? I don’t think so.” My brain ached. I was exhausted and hadn’t eaten since hours before. “We’ll think more clearly after a good meal.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, “but I’ll bring you something.”

  While I waited for him to return from the kitchen, Casper entered the pub and perched on the stool beside me.

  “Tough day?” he asked.

  “I’ve had better.”

  “Any closer to solving the case?”

  “Not much. I could’ve used your help—your company—today.”

  “But you weren’t in any danger, were you?”

  “No,” I mumbled, sounding like a surly school kid. I couldn’t tell him I’d missed him. So I asked, more sharply than I should have, “Where were you?”

  “I had some business to attend to.”

  “You mean you had someone else to guard.”

  “I can’t talk about that.”

  “So you do have someone else to guard.” I had to bite my tongue not to ask, Is she pretty?

  “Are you jealous?” asked Casper as though he’d read my thoughts. “There’s no need to be.”

  I might have punched him if Douglas hadn’t reappeared with a huge plate of roast beef and vegetables.

  “Can I have some too? I’m starving,” said Casper. “Allegra’s buying.”

  Douglas glanced at me for confirmation.

  “I suppose you’d better feed him,” I said. “I can’t let my partner starve.”

  Casper never had any money unless I gave it to him. It wasn’t the kind of thing guardian angels carried.

  Douglas glared at him as though he thought any decent man should pay his own way. He said grudgingly, “I’ll get you some food, Casper,” and headed back to the kitchen.

  Refusing to wait until Casper’s meal arrived before I began to eat, I picked up my knife and fork and savagely cut into a baked potato.

  Casper said, “I’m sorry the case isn’t going well.”

  I couldn’t tell him it wasn’t just the case. I kept my eyes downcast. If I looked at him now I might reveal how I felt about him.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Allegra?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Look at me.”

  No way. I focused on my food, trying to pretend I hadn’t heard him. Douglas chose that moment to arrive with Casper’s meal. Bless you, Douglas. Perfect timing.

  As he put the plate in front of Casper, Douglas said, “Thanks for going to the dance with me, Allegra. I had a great time.” His words were meant for Casper, not me. He was marking his territory, so to speak. Usually I didn’t like being marked as someone’s territory, but tonight I was quite happy to let Casper think Douglas and I were closer than we were.

  “I had fun too, Douglas.”

  He smiled. “I’ve got to get back to work now, but maybe later we could get together.”

  I was saved from answering by a group calling for more beer.

  As Douglas moved away I noticed Casper was concentrating on his meal in the way you do when you’ve overheard a private conversation and want to pretend you haven’t.

  I didn’t say what I was thinking—that I wished I could have gone to the dance with Casper. I kept that to myself.

  Instead I remarked, “Douglas taught me Scottish dancing. I liked it more than I expected.”

  “I’m glad you had fun.” He sounded genuinely pleased. I guess guardian angels aren’t allowed to be jealous.

  For a while we ate in silence. Then I said, “I bought you a present.”

  He looked up questioningly. Our eyes met.

  My heart thumped so hard I thought I was going to faint. Not a good thing to do. Tough as nails paranormal investigator faints over handsome angel. I think not.

  “What did you buy me?”

  “A kilt.”

  He laughed with delight. “Thank you, Allegra. I’ll try it on right after dinner.”

  I was shockingly pleased by his reaction. If I’d ever been happier I couldn’t think when. I smiled at him. It must’ve been a dazzling smile because he immediately broke eye contac
t and looked down at his plate. I saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard.

  Did he know how I felt? But he mustn’t. I had to act swiftly to repair any damage I had done. There was only one way to persuade him that he wasn’t the object of my affection.

  I leaned toward him. “Can you keep a secret, Casper?” When he nodded, I said, “I really like Douglas.”

  Casper seemed relieved. Or did I imagine it?

  “I’m glad you’re happy, Allegra.” He moved to a safer subject. “Do you want dessert?”

  “Why not?”

  After drowning my sorrows in chocolate mud cake and cream, I asked Casper if he wanted his present.

  “Yes, please.” He sounded as excited as a kid at Christmas. “I’m tired of this black outfit. Not that I don’t like it, but it’ll be good to have a change.”

  “Come up to my room and we’ll see if the kilt fits.”

  Casper didn’t hesitate. Obviously my ploy about liking Douglas had fooled him. Good. We sneaked upstairs like two naughty school kids.

  I didn’t expect Casper to get undressed in front of me so I wasn’t disappointed when he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  When he came out, fully dressed right down to the black brogues, I couldn’t resist giving a low wolf whistle.

  The shirt was buttoned only halfway up his chest, revealing a sprinkling of golden curls across his pecs. The kilt, which sat neatly on his waist, was accessorized with the silver-buckled belt that emphasized the slimness of his hips.

  “Very fetching,” I murmured. “Or as Dad would’ve said, bloody beauty, mate.”

  Casper didn’t thank me for the compliment. He didn’t even blush and hang his head. He focused on the one thing I wished he had overlooked—my reference to Dad.

  “You miss your father very much, don’t you?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I hardly ever think about him.”

  Casper raised an eyebrow. His expression told me more clearly than words that he knew I was lying.

  I tried to salvage the situation by admitting, “Of course I think of him sometimes. But what’s the point? He’s probably dead.” I didn’t like to think of Dad being dead, but it was better than thinking he had abandoned Mom and me.