Allegra Fairweather: Paranormal Investigator

by Janni Nell

  “Should I call Dr. Williamson?” I asked.

  “No. I’m all right.” She asked me to refill her glass. When I pressed it into her hands, I felt them shaking. “I suppose the banshee’s come for me,” she said and drained her glass. “For years I’ve longed for death and now it’s come I’m not ready.”

  “You may not be the one it’s come for.”

  “Ye’re thinking of Stuart MacDuff,” she said.

  I nodded. “The last of The Three M’s. It makes sense.”

  “I hope for Anne’s sake it’s not Stuart. Better me than him.”

  A hammering on the door made us jump. We exchanged a terrified glance.

  “It’s all right,” said Mrs. Ferguson, but her voice shook. “Banshees don’t knock.”

  “You wait here,” I said. “I’ll get it.”

  I walked slowly down the hall. I reached for the door knob. Banshees don’t knock. I clenched my fist. If this was a banshee I was going to punch its face. That might not save Mrs. Ferguson, but it would make me feel a whole lot better. I opened the door.

  It was Dr. Williamson. He wasn’t as tall as me but he was straight-backed and dignified. His glasses were fashionable and the blue eyes behind them were sharply intelligent. Before I could say a word, he had crossed the threshold and made his way deeper into the house.

  “Is she all right?” he asked me.

  “Perfectly fine,” I said.

  I watched Dr. Williamson stride into the living room. He knelt beside Mrs. Ferguson’s chair and hugged her tight. Then he pressed his lips against hers.

  She opened her eyes wide in surprise. Then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed back. Passionately.

  Go Mrs. Ferguson!

  Making no attempt to hide my grin, I retreated down the hall and let myself out. I was still grinning when I crept in the back door of Mac’s. The pub was still open but Douglas had left Bess behind the bar while he got something from the kitchen.

  “I guess you heard the banshee,” I said.

  “So did everyone in Mac’s.”

  “How’re the MacDuffs taking it?

  “Anne’s coping. Stuart’s drinking.”

  Suppressing a sigh, I tried to rub some feeling back into my freezing hands.

  “I think I’ll go up to my room,” I said.

  “What have you got planned?”

  “A good night’s sleep.”

  “No, really,” he persisted, “what have you got planned?”

  “I just told you. Staying up all night isn’t going to change a thing. Someone will die. It might be Stuart or Mrs. Ferguson or Dr. Williamson. Or you. Or me. My staying up all night won’t change a thing.”

  He didn’t argue. We exchanged good-nights and I went up to my room.

  I stripped off my clothes and put on my granny nightie, but when I climbed into bed I couldn’t sleep. I knew I had to do something. But what? The only thing I could think of was to warn Harq the selkies would be in danger if—no, make that when—I found Justina’s skin. Hoping he would be spending the night with Scarlett, I leapt out of bed and got dressed. Then I headed at top speed to Beag Glen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scarlett’s home was in darkness. I rapped loudly on the door. There was no answer so I tried again. This time I heard movement inside.

  When Scarlett opened the door, I asked, “Is Harq with you?”

  “Why?” She glanced anxiously up and down the street as though she suspected I’d brought a CNN crew with me.

  “I have to speak to him.”

  “Why?”

  “The selkies are in danger.”

  She let me in.

  I waited in the sitting room while she got Harq. He appeared, wearing a bathrobe. His feet were bare.

  I don’t like small talk, and this was one occasion where it was unnecessary. Without preamble, I said, “Eark’s skin has been moved. I promise you I’ll keep looking, but it’s going to take time.”

  Harq gave a stoic nod. “I understand.”

  Scarlett looked at me suspiciously. “You came here in the middle of the night to tell us that?”

  “No, there’s more. Sir Alastair knows I’m looking for the skin. If I find it, he’s threatened to poison the loch.”

  Scarlett gasped and let fly a stream of obscenities. I waited until her anger was spent before I spoke to Harq.

  “I think it would be best if the selkies left the loch. Not forever,” I said quickly, mindful of Scarlett’s feelings, “just until Sir Alastair…” I trailed off. Until he what? Got tired of Justina? He would poison the loch long before that happened. It would be years before the selkies could safely return.

  Harq murmured, “I will tell my people.”

  “You’ve got to do more than tell them,” I said. “You’ve got to make them leave the loch.”

  “My people have lived here for a long time. The humans did wrong. Why should we leave?”

  “I know it isn’t fair,” I said, “but if you want your people to survive, it’s the only way.”

  Harq said, “We won’t leave without Eark.”

  There was a catch in his voice. My heart went out to him.

  “I’ll do everything in my power to return her to you. But you must leave the loch now. Go out to sea. When I have Eark’s skin I’ll bring her to you.”

  “How will you know where to find us?”

  “Name a place,” I said, “on the coast. I’ll bring her there, I promise.”

  Sadly he shook his head. “Your place names aren’t the same as ours.”

  Scarlett put in, “The selkie language is so different from ours, they’d never know where you meant. Eark would be lost to them.”

  Harq had another idea. “The other selkies can leave the loch. I’ll stay here until you find Eark’s skin.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But make sure you stay with Scarlett. No going back in the loch.”

  Scarlett said, “I think you should go now.” As she walked me to the door, she murmured, “When you find Eark’s skin, I’ll loose Harq.”

  “You might not—”

  She cut me off. “He’ll go with the pod.” She added, “The sad thing is he’s ruined me for any man. His mouth even tastes different.”

  Remembering the heavenly taste of Casper’s mouth, I asked, “Does Harq’s mouth taste sweet?”

  She shook her head. “It tastes like fine seafood. Crab, lobster. Delicious.” Her voice broke. “I’ll miss him.”

  There was a noise in the hall. Harq was close enough to have heard everything we’d said.

  He looked at Scarlett. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

  My heart fluttered. It was all I could do not to sigh out loud. I can only imagine how Scarlett felt. Actually I didn’t have to. She ran into his arms.

  As Harq held her, he said to me, “Tell Eark I miss her.”

  I got the feeling he was hinting I should leave. I took the hint. The last thing I saw before I crept out of the house was Scarlett fastening her lips on his.

  Creeping out of houses while their occupants were locked in passionate embraces was becoming a habit. First Mrs. Ferguson and Dr. Williamson, then Scarlett and Harq. For a moment I envied them all. Then I told myself to get over it and get on with my job.

  As I drove back to Furness I wondered how I was going to reunite Eark and Harq without causing an environmental disaster. Although the selkies would escape Sir Alastair’s wrath, the other marine life would suffer terribly.

  I was trying to work out a way of saving the loch when Casper appeared in the passenger seat beside me. He gave me such a shock I nearly ran off the road.

  I snapped at him. “Maybe next time you could give me some warning.”

  “What do you suggest?” he asked easily.

  His nonchalance annoyed me. “Maybe you could whistle just before you appear. Especially if I’m driving.”

  “What would you like me to whistle?” he asked accommodatingly.

  I rolled my eyes.
“Forget it.”

  “I don’t think I know that one.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Maybe I shouldn’t have appeared while you were driving.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “No, I mean I don’t feel so good. I’ll never get used to cars. Give me a good horse any day.”

  “There’s no point flying the rest of the way,” I said. “We’ll be at Mac’s in a few minutes.”

  There were no parking spots outside the pub so I turned into a side street. As soon as I stopped, Casper scrambled out. Once he was on the sidewalk he looked better.

  “I’ll walk you back to Mac’s,” he offered.

  “Are you in need of more exercise?” I glanced skeptically at his perfect body. “Or am I in danger?”

  “I don’t think there’s any danger around, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Hmm. Was he keeping something from me? There was no way to be sure, so I decided not to worry. Putting all the many problems of this case on hold—hey, I deserved a brief respite—I asked, “How many Guardian Angels live with you on Cloud 9?”

  “We all live there.”

  “It must be a big place.”

  “Well we’re not all there at the same time,” he said. “It’s kind of like a police station. Largely empty because most of us are out on the beat, so to speak.”

  I glanced at him curiously. “What do you know about police stations?”

  He hesitated, which made me even more determined to find out.

  “Go on. Tell me.”

  He said reluctantly, “The last person I guarded, before you, was a cop.”

  Guardian angels usually stay with their morsubs for life, which meant the cop had died just before Casper first appeared to me nineteen years ago. By Casper’s tone I guessed he felt responsible. I was curious to know how the cop had died.

  “I screwed up,” Casper said, pre-empting my question. “There were so many bullets flying, it was impossible to deflect them all. But that’s no excuse. I should have been up to the task.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” I said. “Shit happens.”

  “The only consolation,” he went on as though I hadn’t spoken, “is that she went straight to Heaven.”

  “She?” Of course it would be a she. Casper had told me that all his morsubs had been women.

  “Yes, she,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

  Fighting back a wave of jealousy, I mumbled, “Nope.”

  He looked somber. “I want you to die in your bed, Allegra, of old age.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “I didn’t expect you’d choose such a dangerous job,” he went on. “You were always a tomboy, but I thought you’d do something involving sport. Basketball or—”

  “I was never much of a team player,” I said.

  “No,” he agreed, “and you always enjoyed solving puzzles.”

  “I think I’m doing what I was born to do, Casper. Sorry if it makes your job more difficult. Maybe you could put in for a transfer.”

  He laughed softly as though he knew my remark wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. We both knew he would only get transferred if there was some major transgression—like falling in love with his morsub.

  Neither of us spoke much after that. We fell into an easy silence. Pure, deep and warm. It was almost disappointing to reach Mac’s.

  “There’s no reason for me to go in,” said Casper.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. Reluctantly? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Leaving him standing in the street, I went inside. It was after closing time, but there were people in the bar. Douglas and Bess were trying to persuade Stuart and Anne MacDuff that it was time to go home.

  “I’m not leaving,” said Stuart flatly. “If I go home the selkies will know where to find me.” He sounded really drunk.

  Douglas threw me an exasperated glance. “Allegra, you know about the paranormal. Tell him the selkies aren’t going to kill him.”

  I didn’t want to reveal that the selkies were leaving the loch. If that got back to Sir Alastair he might poison it sooner rather than later.

  But I did want to reassure Stuart, so I said, “The selkies aren’t going to kill you.” Thinking of Malcolm’s fate, I continued, “But it’d be best to stay away from the loch. Especially if you’ve been drinking.”

  “Of course he will,” said Anne. But apparently she hadn’t heard the bit about the selkies not wanting to kill him, because she added, “If any of them come for him they’ll have to get past me first.”

  Better the selkies than me, I thought. Anne would be a formidable opponent if her man was threatened. She took Stuart’s arm and said, “Let’s go home.”

  “No,” he said stubbornly. “It’s not safe.” Apparently he hadn’t heard the bit about the selkies not wanting to kill him either. Maybe I should tell him again. Loudly. Or maybe I should give him a good shake. I was considering doing the latter when he said, “I’m staying right here,” and plonked himself on a bar stool.

  Bess rolled her eyes. “You cannae stay in the bar. It’s against the law.”

  I had no idea whether that was true or merely a convenient way of getting rid of the MacDuffs, but Stuart wasn’t leaving.

  “Give us a room upstairs,” he said. “We’ll pay.”

  Douglas exchanged a glance with Bess.

  She shrugged. “Fine. Take the Tartan Room. I’m going to bed. It’s been a shitty night.” She looked at me as though I was responsible. That was partly true so I mouthed, Sorry. She shrugged again and trudged up the stairs.

  Anne yawned. “I’m exhausted. Come on, Stuart. Let’s go to bed.” She put her arm around him and eased him off the stool.

  “Do you want some help?” asked Douglas.

  “I can manage,” she said as they headed for the stairs. “He’s not that drunk.”

  He could have fooled me, but I kept my mouth shut.

  When they had disappeared upstairs, Douglas said, “Nightcap?”

  “Yeah.”

  We sat near the open fire that had now burned down to little more than embers.

  “You sneaked out,” he said. “Where did you go?”

  Without mentioning Scarlett—I didn’t want to reveal her relationship with Harq—I told Douglas I had managed to communicate with the selkies. “They’re going to leave the loch.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” he said. “At least until you find the skin. Any new ideas where it might be?”

  “Nope.” But I hoped my big toe had other ideas.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next morning I awoke with a headache. It was going to be a bad day. I could feel it. After throwing on my usual jeans and sweater I headed downstairs in search of coffee. The way I felt, even instant would be good.

  I heard voices before I reached the kitchen. One was Stuart MacDuff. The other was his wife Anne. I stood outside the kitchen and listened.

  “I’m going to die.” Stuart sounded close to tears. “The selkies will come for me and they’ll—”

  “No they won’t,” interrupted Anne. “Not while I’ve got breath in my body.”

  Stuart continued to wail. “They won’t rest until I’m dead.”

  “Then we’ll move away from the loch.”

  “But I like living here.”

  I heard Anne’s sigh of exasperation. It was time to interrupt them before she throttled him.

  “Morning,” I said, striding into the kitchen.

  Anne looked pleased to see me and wished me a brisk good morning before saying, “Help me convince Stuart the selkies aren’t going to kill him?”

  I turned to Stuart, intending to confirm Anne’s theory, but the words died on my tongue. He was terribly pale and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. I struggled not to show how shocked I was. Somehow I managed to say, “The selkies didn’t kill Malcolm and they didn’t mean to kill McEwen. It was an accident
.”

  “That’s crap,” he said. “You’re lying to protect them.”

  “Listen to me, Stuart. The selkies don’t want to harm you or anyone else. They’re going to leave the loch.”

  “Really?” asked Anne. When I nodded, she hugged Stuart, and said, “Och, love, it’s safe to go home.”

  Stuart didn’t look convinced. “It’s a trap,” he said. “The selkies are going to kill me. You heard the banshee.”

  “It hasn’t come for you.” Anne sounded thoroughly fed up with his whining. “It’s come for Mrs. Ferguson.”

  Stuart didn’t look convinced. He started to say something then his pale face got even paler. “I dinnae feel so good.” He got to his feet and staggered toward the door. Luckily he made it outside in time. I tried not to listen to the sounds of him throwing up.

  “He’s always like this after a big night,” said Anne. “He’ll be fine once he sleeps it off.”

  She gave him a few minutes to stop groaning then she went outside. I heard her say, “Let’s get you home.”

  Stuart didn’t argue.

  After they had gone I made myself coffee. I was drinking my second cup when Douglas appeared.

  “Anne and Stuart not down yet?” he asked. He looked as though he was eager to avoid them.

  “Anne took him home,” I said, handing Douglas a mug of coffee.

  Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out, “Peace at last.”

  “It’s the calm before the storm.” I said.

  Everything was coming to a head. There would be a reckoning. Sir Alastair vs. Allegra Fairweather. Would the good guy—er, girl—win? I could only hope.

  “What’s your next move?” asked Douglas.

  “I have to see Lady Justina again.” It was hard to get used to calling her Eark, which might sound very pretty in selkie but didn’t sound so good in English. “I have a message for her from her brother.”

  When Douglas offered to go with me, I told him it wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t want an amateur getting involved in something he couldn’t handle.

  On my way through the village I saw Mrs. Ferguson. She was walking toward the shops arm in arm with Dr. Williamson. She had never looked more alive. In fact, she looked ten years younger. Whoever the banshee had been wailing for, it wasn’t her.