by Josh Lanyon
In all honesty, that was way more about salmon than I had ever wanted to know. We learned that “aquaculture,” or farmed fish, now produced fifty percent of the world’s fish. We learned the sea louse had decimated over half the farmed salmon population in Scotland, threatening a multibillion-dollar global economy. We learned that most salmon farms relied heavily, dangerously on chemicals, that waste was out of control, and that the big industrial farms were quickly depleting the world’s natural fish population.
It was kind of depressing and I sincerely hoped salmon was not on the evening’s menu.
After our tour, we returned along the coast, stopping for lunch in a beautiful cove with white sand and sparkling azure water, so clear you could see all the way to the bottom. The kitchen at Castle Dìomhair had provided huge picnic baskets stuffed with delicacies such as, yes, salmon paste sandwiches. Of course, there was also whisky. Dark Origins from the Highland Park distillery on Orkney, in this case.
“And they say crime doesn’t pay,” Sally murmured when we were all replete, lying back on the tartan picnic blanket and turning her face to the sun.
“I’m not surprised John left,” Rose said, out of the blue. “Not after that exchange with Vanessa last night.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The way he spoke to her. He practically accused her of murder.”
“Uh. She did commit murder. She went to prison for murder,” I said.
Nedda said, “I’m not sure what he was doing on the tour to begin with. If he’s ever read one of Vanessa’s books, I’ll eat my hat.” She doffed her straw sunhat as though to prove her point.
Sally pushed up on her elbows. “Why was he on the tour?” she asked me.
Rose and Nedda were both watching me as well.
“I don’t think it’s a mystery,” I said. “He’s got family Scottish connections and he enjoys mystery novels.”
“Not Vanessa’s,” Nedda said.
“Don’t tell me you swallowed that story,” Sally scoffed. “He was obviously up to something. Always skulking around, listening in on people’s private conversations.”
“Skulking?”
“Oh, Carter, come on. We all noticed.”
“Even if he was, it wouldn’t be anything nefarious,” I protested. Not that I needed to defend John, but...
“He upset Vanessa,” Sally said. “She tried to hide it, but I could tell.”
I said, “Vanessa was upset when we came downstairs for cocktails.”
Sally denied this, but Nedda said, “No, he’s right. I thought so too. There was a difference in her from that afternoon.”
A shadow fell across me. “Carter? Can I have a word?”
I squinted against the bright sun and made out Trevor’s silhouette. My heart sank. I didn’t need to see his face. I recognized the we-need-to-talk tone.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Don’t mind us,” Rose said.
Sally said, “I knew this was coming.” She lay back and closed her eyes again.
“Like honey to flies,” Nedda murmured. “Where’s Ben?”
Trevor ignored them. “Carter?”
I looked around for Vance and spotted him sound asleep on one of the nearby picnic blankets. Great. No rescue was coming from that quarter.
I rose without a word and strode down the beach, leading him away from our audience. Trevor followed, sounding slightly out of breath as he called, “It’s not a race.”
I sighed and slowed. “What’s the problem now, Trevor? What’s so urgent—”
He caught my hand and drew me forward, and kissed me. Astonishment held me motionless. Astonishment, but also the unexpected familiarity of it. Only for an instant. I shoved him away. He staggered and sat down in the sand.
“Do that again, and I’ll deck you.” I glared, then threw a guilty look back at the picnic blankets. Every single head was turned our way. I could see the round eyes and open mouths all the way from where we stood. In fact, I thought Sally had her phone out and was filming us.
I groaned. “Are you crazy?”
Trevor stood up, brushed the sand from his khakis, and came toward me. His eyes were brimming with emotion. Largely self-inflicted. “You can’t pretend you don’t still have feelings for me.”
“I have feelings for you. None of them make me want to kiss you.”
Trevor closed his eyes as though in pain. “I know I hurt you.”
“Stop,” I said. And to make sure the folks back home were getting the full picture, I planted my hand in his chest. “Seriously. Stop. I don’t want to hear this. It’s over for me. And it should be over for you, seeing that you’re with Vance now.”
I turned to return to the safety of the tour, but Trevor caught my arm.
“I love Vance,” he said. “But I loved you first. This situation is killing me.” He gazed beseechingly into my eyes. Same old Trevor. Reveling in the self-created drama.
I said, “You’ll survive.”
“Don’t. If you hadn’t been so cold, so withdrawn at the end... You forced me to choose.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was just so... Trevor.
“So cold and withdrawn after I found out you were having an affair with your dental hygienist? So, it was actually my fault?”
Trevor said indignantly, “He wasn’t my dental hygienist when we met!”
“Uh, true. Is that supposed to make it better? Listen—”
Trevor interrupted, “What if I left Vance? What if I came back to you?”
It was no longer even remotely funny. “I hope you’re kidding.”
Trevor shook his head. “I made a mistake. I see that now. I love Vance, but I love our old life more. I love you more.”
He had it right the first time. He loved his old life more. Trevor was all about comfort and convenience, and while I’d had my drawbacks—clearly—it seemed I was the winner in the providing comfort and convenience sweepstakes.
And what was his plan anyway? That he would stay with Vance until the end of the tour? Or we would break the news to Vance before dinner and Vance could take over my dinner-for-one slot? Did he even have a plan? Or was I supposed to take care of the details—like I’d taken care of so many of the details in our relationship?
“Sorry,” I said. “Like I keep saying, I’ve moved on.”
“No, you haven’t. You wouldn’t have come on this trip if you’d moved on.”
Whatever he read in my face caused his eyes to narrow. His whole expression changed. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me—”
One thing about Trevor, he was very good at sussing out threats to his own interests. “It’s not Ben. No way. Are you telling me it’s that Knight guy? You said there was nothing between you.”
“I’m not telling you anything. Because it’s not your business.”
“He’s not even your type!”
What was my type supposed to be? The unemployed and unfaithful?
I opened my mouth to answer, but the others began to wave and call to us. “Yoo-hoo!” Laurel called. “Carter! Yoo-hoo!”
“Hey, you guys,” yelled Nedda. “We’re leaving!”
“Get your asses back here, you two!” shouted Sally.
My heart lightened. I recognized a rescue operation being launched, and was touched. I waved back.
Vance sat up and began looking around wildly.
Trevor swore. “We’ll finish this later.”
“It’s already finished,” I said, starting back the way we had come.
* * *
I remember even less about the trip back to Castle Dìomhair than the trip out. With the fickleness so characteristic of Scottish weather, clouds began to roll in from the Atlantic and the bright afternoon turned strange and silvery.
Wind sho
ok the bus as we toddled back along the coast road. A few scattered raindrops fell and then, with the next curve of the road, the sun peeked out, only to fade away around the next bend. Lightning flickered in the distance. Sparkling flashes like a short in the solar system.
I was preoccupied by thoughts of John. Wondering if he had successfully caught up with his quarry. Wondering if he would call that night. Wondering if we would really get together once we were back in the States. Wondering what the chances were of a holiday romance turning into something more.
Alison broke out yet another bottle of whisky, and walked up and down the aisles dispensing tiny plastic cups and thimble-sized portions of booze. Even Yvonne broke down and had a couple of mouthfuls. Ben watched her gloomily. I surmised a tipsy Yvonne might be even harder to handle than a stone-cold sober Yvonne.
It was raining in earnest when we arrived back at the castle. The road turned dark in the rain. The broom growing along the side looked gold against the slate skies. The bus’s windshield wipers worked overtime, and the windows were a blur of rain and reflections. The reflections being mostly peering faces and plastic cups.
Elizabeth Ogilvie was waiting for us at the castle entrance, and it was immediately obvious something had happened. She looked white but stoic enough; her eyes were red as though she’d been crying.
She drew Alison and Hamish aside and they spoke quietly for a moment or two and then Alison cried, “No, that can’t be! It can’t be true. Elizabeth, are you sure?”
At that point, we all stopped walking and stared.
Elizabeth and Alison continued to speak, seeming no longer aware of us, as we crowded closer. Even Hamish looked stricken.
“It doesn’t seem possible,” Alison said. She wiped her face, and finally seemed to notice the rest of us waiting and watching. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Elizabeth said something too softly to catch.
Alison assented, called, “Everyone. Please. Gather round. If I could have your attention for a moment.”
She already had our attention. You could feel the tension and dread in the room.
“I...” Alison faltered. Tried again. “I have something...bad news... I have to tell you that Vanessa is...gone.”
“Gone?” someone echoed. “Where did she go?”
“Dead,” Alison gulped.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Alison made an effort at composure. “It seems...apparently, Vanessa died during the night.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Now you’ve gone too far,” I said.
I hadn’t realized how angry I was until I heard my voice bouncing off the ancient stone floors and walls.
Alison blinked at me in confusion. The others simply stared.
“It was funny the first time. This isn’t funny. This is sick.”
Elizabeth Ogilvie said quietly, “It’s not part of the murder game, Mr. Matheson. Vanessa is dead.”
She was pretty convincing. That I couldn’t deny. But Alison had been convincing when she’d pretended Rose had died. Even Ms. Eccles had been reasonably convincing. So I didn’t buy it. It was too much.
“Really? Then I want to see the body.”
A few of my fellow travelers supported me with uneasy murmurs. A few of my fellow travelers eyed me in alarm.
“Carter.” Ben put his hand on my shoulder.
“No.” I shrugged him off. “Think about Strathpeffer. This is not beyond them. Look around you. The whole place is a stage set. I don’t believe it.”
Shock and confusion gave way to suspicion on the faces of the hold-outs. There were more sounds of agreement.
Elizabeth said in that same quiet voice, “Very well, Mr. Matheson. If you won’t take our word for it, you must see for yourself.”
It sounded a little ominous when she put it like that, and for the first time I wondered if they might be telling the truth.
“The rest of you will have to rely on Mr. Matheson’s report,” Elizabeth added. “I’ve contacted the authorities and received instructions that the room is to be left undisturbed until their arrival. Allowing Mr. Matheson to view the body is already in violation of these orders.”
There was quick agreement from the Tours to Die For gang, who now eyed me with respectful sympathy. My stomach began to roil with a mix of nerves and squeamishness, but I was still deeply suspicious of Vanessa’s sudden “death,” and determined to see for myself.
I followed Elizabeth out of the hall and up the stairs, which then branched in a different direction from the guest rooms.
This wing of the castle was very different, almost spartan. Aside from a couple of suits of armor and the inevitable armory adorning the walls, there was little in the way of decor. No sly faux family portraits. No goofy gimcracks.
My doubt ratcheted with each yard of faded carpet.
At last we reached a large carved door. Face impassive, Elizabeth drew out a set of old-fashioned keys, selected a shiny silver newish one, and unlocked first one deadbolt and then a second. She pushed the door open.
The drapes were drawn. The room was in darkness. My heart turned cold. Elizabeth reached for the wall switch, but even before the light came on I knew Vanessa was dead.
The smell of death lingered in the room.
She lay face down on the floor, next to the bed. Her silver hair covered her face. She wore an indigo blue dressing gown and the diamond jewelry from the night before. Thick wooly gray-and-white Fair Isle socks were on her feet. Somehow the socks made it all real. There was something human and sad about those socks.
“Jesus.” The sound of my own voice startled me. “Was she...” I couldn’t even finish it. I’d never before seen a body that hadn’t been formally prepared for burial. The sight of Vanessa’s corpse was genuinely shocking.
“I don’t believe so. I saw no sign of violence.”
“What could have happened? Was she sick? Did she have some medical condition?”
“She never went to a doctor as long as I worked for her. She said she’d enough of doctors.”
I continued to stand there. It never occurred to me to leave the doorway. It wasn’t necessary.
“Have you seen enough?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes.”
I backed up. She turned off the light and closed the door. Neither of us said a word as I followed her back downstairs.
When we reached the ground level we discovered that Alison had shepherded everyone to the library. As Elizabeth and I entered the room, every face turned my way.
I nodded.
There was a sort of collective sigh followed by a collective slump.
“Was it...could you tell if it was a natural death?” Sally asked after a few minutes.
There were some shocked noises at this, but of course the thought would occur. It had certainly occurred to me.
“I couldn’t tell,” I said. “I didn’t examine her.” And unless the cause of death was something brutally obvious, wouldn’t have known what to look for in any case.
“What does it matter how she died?” Ben said. “The point is she really is dead.” He looked sick. Surprisingly sick for someone who had only come along on this trip to keep his mother company.
But I sympathized. I felt sick. I sat in one of the velvet wingback chairs and rubbed my face. I wanted to forget the chilly smell of decay. I realized I would never have that promised tête-à-tête with Vanessa now.
Sally said, “It matters because if she was murdered, the murderer might still be here on the island. We might all be in danger.”
“What a bloody ridiculous thing to say.” Daya looked terrified. Roddy took her hand and patted it.
“But she’s right,” Laurel said. “If it was murder—”
The Poe sisters concurred. Everybody concurred. We all watched the same movies and
read the same books. Of course we concurred.
“That would be a determination for the authorities,” Elizabeth said.
Maybe she watched the same movies too, because I’d have expected instinctive denial, even outrage at the idea. Elizabeth sounded almost unsurprised.
Granted, she was the personal assistant to a famous murder writer who lived in a castle that looked like a set forgotten by a Hammer Horror Film crew.
Alison stared at her. “But they won’t make it tonight. Listen to that rain.”
We all listened. Even behind these massive walls, we could hear the roar of rain. It beat against the stone, rattled against the windows, smacked and slapped every available surface.
Alison was right. No helicopter would be able to fly in now, and I couldn’t imagine many boats would risk the journey either. In fact, the idea of trying to sail across that choppy water made my stomach flop like a seal on an ice floe.
Trevor said, “If Vanessa was murdered, I think it’s pretty obvious who did it. John Knight sneaking out of here in the middle of the night is as good as a confession.”
“What?” I sat up straight.
He met my gaze in direct challenge. “All that bullshit about having to flee because of an insurance emergency. Was the queen late on her premium? Only you would fall for that.”
“I see. And when do you imagine he committed the crime? We were together the entire night.”
“Presumably you slept most of the—”
“Presumably you should mind your own business.”
His eyes widened with shock. Apparently, the earlier accusations had just been a fishing expedition? As an angry red tide washed over his face, there was some uncomfortable shifting and clearing of throats. And as much as I didn’t like Vance, the expression on his face as he stared at Trevor made even me wince.
Elizabeth said in that same calm tone, “It would appear the Scherfs and Rices also departed at some time during the last twelve hours. Their luggage is missing.”
This naturally caused a lot of excitement and consternation. I remained quiet. I’d share everything I knew with the authorities, once they arrived, but in the meantime, I didn’t know what might jeopardize John’s case.