Mystery: The Christmas Contest: A Duncan Dewar Romantic Comedy of Mystery & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 5)

by Victoria Benchley

  Mondo, Harold, and Penny all nodded. Margaret and James said they'd return to the village later in the day. Reggie planned to join the group that night, and he and James had already made plans to enjoy dinner at the Blue Bell.

  "Say, Duncan," Harold said as he lifted Penny's bag, "would you call Angela and ask her if she'd mind sharing her room at the inn with Penny?"

  Angus roared with laughter. Between hoots, he said, "Aye, Duncan, why dinnae ye ring her up and ask?"

  Harold shrugged, having no idea what was so humorous.

  "Come on, we'll work on Penny's accommodations once we git there," Angus said before herding everyone from the house.

  Duncan looked around the kitchen. Margaret shook her head and left for the solace of her bedroom. Only Duncan's father remained. He dropped his newspaper and approached his son. James put his arm around Duncan and smiled.

  "Lad, it's always darkest before the dawn," he said. "Why don't you stick around here a few hours and decide what to do next."

  James left to join Margaret.

  Over his shoulder, he said, "I like Angela. I wouldn't give up on her if I were you."

  Duncan glanced at the newspaper his father had been holding. Babes Brawl in Ladies' Loo Over Dewar Brothers read the headline.

  Ach!

  * * * * * *

  Duncan did as his father advised. He ate breakfast, dressed, and checked his messages. Another email arrived from his private detective. It contained some very damning evidence. He grabbed his things and ran for his car.

  Inquiring at the hotel desk, Duncan was told that Angela Smith had checked out hours before. She left no forwarding address. He felt sure she'd taken the train back to London. He slipped the man at the desk a fifty pound Bank of Scotland note.

  "Did she leave in a taxi?"

  The hotel employee glanced around the lobby, easing the bill from the counter and into his coat pocket.

  "No, this gent picked her up," he said, pulling a newspaper from behind the counter and tapping a flattering photo of Angus Duncan had not yet seen. His own repugnant picture was positioned above his brother's, below the headline, Deranged Dewar Can't Handle Success.

  "Say, aren't ye…"

  He turned on his heels and jogged from the hotel before the man finished his sentence. He paced anxiously on the pavement while the valet man fetched his car. He checked his watch. The treasure hunt started in an hour, its beginning delayed in honor of Duncan, who was required in Edinburgh to receive an honor. Ach! He'd have to drive fast if he hoped to arrive in time.

  * * * * * *

  He pealed into the Blue Bell's car park, skidding to a stop. He ran to the pub, where he found Skye, wiping a glass at the bar.

  "Where are they?" he said between gasps for air.

  "That brother of yers is really something. I dinnae think he's satisfied with that model and now wants yer lass as weel," Skye said with disgust.

  "Where are they, Skye? It's important."

  "Off hunting treasure," the lass replied with a shrug.

  "I need the clue, what is it?"

  Skye glanced up at Duncan, as an alarmed expression grew on her face.

  "What's going on, Duncan? What's got ye so peely wally?"

  The investigator wasn't aware he appeared sick.

  "There could be some trouble. It's about Susanne's missing jewel. Please give me the clue!"

  Skye dropped the bar mop on the counter and returned the glass to its shelf before addressing Duncan.

  "I can do better than that. I can tell ye where they'll end up."

  * * * * * *

  Duncan whipped his Jaguar to the side of the road, near the old kirk. He approached the building with stealth, noting the vehicles of Angus and Susanne Wallace in its car park. He drew in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. If that blackguard dares to lay a finger on Angela, I'll kill him.

  Duncan crept past the front of the kirk. Its door open, the place of worship appeared empty. He moved near the corner, hugging the building's stone wall. Beyond lay the cemetery, the treasure hunt's destination.

  He heard a muffled cry. Without thinking he dashed past the kirk and amongst the ancient grave markers. At the other end of the graveyard he saw Angela, struggling with Wally. Although he couldn't see the man's face, his jacket gave him away. He had Angela locked in an embrace and was attempting to kiss her.

  Duncan hurdled several headstones, which must have caught the eye of Susanne's nephew, because the scoundrel pulled away from the lass just as Duncan connected his right fist with the rogue's jaw. Wally Wallace fell backwards, clipping his head against the stone skull of a grave marker on his way to the ground. Blood gushed from his lip and chin, obscuring the dimple of which he was so proud.

  The investigator lunged for the villain, prepared to give him the thrashing he deserved.

  "No, Duncan, don't!" Angela shouted, grabbing his elbow as the Scotsman drew back his fist to land another punch on the blackguard.

  Duncan straightened and looked at Angela, his face twisted into a mass of pain. He didn't yet feel the sharp stab in his ankle from leaping a gravestone, nor the throb in his femur. It was Angela's betrayal that grabbed his heart, wrenching it until he wanted to double over in excruciating agony.

  "Why? Didn't I just witness him trying to force himself on you?" he managed to spit from his lips.

  "No," Angela said softly, dropping her head.

  The lass kneeled next to Wally as if checking on his well being, and unbuttoned his jacket. It was more than the Scotsman could stand and he glanced away. He didn't see that the lass undid the button of his jacket's front pocket only, then withdrew an intricate jewel with great care.

  "This is why, Duncan. I didn't want the pendant destroyed," Angela confessed, stretching her hand with the antique token of love towards the investigator.

  "What on Earth?" Donald exclaimed.

  Duncan looked to his right, where the innkeeper emerged from around a corner with Susanne and a stunned Harry Alyn. Angus followed the others, dressed in only an animal skin, a look of chagrin across his face. Things were getting stranger by the second.

  "My jewel!" Susanne exclaimed, reaching for the pendant and snatching it from Angela's outstretched palm. "Wherever did you find it?" she asked.

  "In your nephew's pocket," the lass replied, rising from her knees.

  Relief swept over Duncan as he realized he'd misjudged the situation. He smiled at Angela, who returned the gesture.

  It was then Susanne noticed trousers protruding from behind a headstone. She moved forward and gasped, seeing the blood.

  Bending to her nephew's side, she asked, "What happened, Wally?"

  The cad wiped the blood from his chin, then smeared it across his jacket.

  "Angela won the contest," he answered in an indifferent tone.

  "Should I be calling the chief inspector now?" Donald asked.

  "Certainly not! I'll not bring charges against my own kin," Susanne said, her face flushed with anger.

  She grasped her nephew's arm and helped him from the ground. She tucked herself under his shoulder, aiding his walk to her car, then eased him into the passenger seat. She returned to the group that had now formed in the kirk yard, including Harold and Penny.

  "Can I rely on your discretion, Donald?" she asked in an imperious tone.

  "Ye can," the innkeeper said.

  "What about them?" she demanded.

  "I dinnae know aboot them. Ye'll have to take yer chances there," Donald replied with a smile.

  Susanne stared at Duncan and the others, allowing her eyes to trail up and down the group. She turned on her heels without another word and marched to her automobile.

  "Would anyone like to explain what's happening?" Angus said.

  Duncan glanced at his brother and did a double take due to his strange garb.

  "I think you're the one who needs to explain," he said.

  -13-

  Explanations & Reconciliation

  Angel
a placed the bag of ice on Duncan's sore hand. The punch he landed produced bruising around his knuckles, and his fingers hurt. The lass hadn't said a word on the drive back to the village, although she had agreed to ride with the investigator.

  "Do you forgive me then? Not that there's anything to forgive," he said, irritated.

  Angela's brow puckered as she pulled away from the Scotsman.

  "I'm only guilty of not thinking faster when that woman approached on the red carpet and I'll not repent for crimes I've not committed," Duncan stated. He continued, "Now you, on the other hand, may owe me an apology."

  "How do you figure that?" Angela asked, dubious.

  "I don’t think it's appropriate for my lass to brawl in a ladies' lounge."

  Duncan reached behind the bar and retrieved the newspaper he'd hidden there. He tapped the headline and lifted an eyebrow, awaiting her response. Angela drew in a deep breath and held it in her lungs for several seconds. She exhaled slowly, choosing her words with care.

  "I slapped the hussy."

  "Good show!" Duncan exclaimed.

  Angela smiled, but the Scotsman could tell she remained unhappy. The lass shifted on her stool and stared at the ground. Patient, he waited for her to continue, sensing whatever she had to say was important.

  "You don't remember when we first met, do you?" Angela said.

  "I believe I do."

  "No, you don't, Duncan. It was my first day at Lawful and General, three years before I came to your department. We bumped into each other in the cafeteria and ended up at the same table. You were very sweet, chatting away about your obsession with Sherlock Holmes. An experiment had left me with short blonde hair. Our paths crossed the next few days and you mentioned having dinner together, said you'd call me."

  "Oh," Duncan murmured. He remembered the energetic blonde. "I'm sorry if I never followed through. I don't know what happened, but I recall I found you attractive."

  "Cassandra Baines is what happened," she paused to let her words sink into Duncan's brain. Then she continued, "Your paths also crossed, rather publicly on a red carpet not unlike last night's. You took up with her and never gave me another thought. I didn't even know who you were until I started seeing pictures of you and her in the rags. Then, I realized I'd been talking with The Dashing Duncan."

  He took a sharp breath. Yes, his relationship with Cassandra started as soon as they met. He thought it was by chance at the time, but after seeing her in action recently, he guessed she contrived their meeting. He didn't pursue the cute blonde from the lunch room after picking up with the model. In fact, he never saw her again.

  "What happened to you? I didn't see you around anymore."

  "I went back to school, worked part-time in one of our field offices. After my education, I returned to headquarters. Personnel placed me in your department, by coincidence. I thought you'd remember me, but when you didn't, I decided it best not to bring it up. Eventually, I became your assistant."

  "I don't believe in coincidences, Angela," Duncan said and drew the lass into an embrace.

  "Can I open this now?" the Scotsman asked, slipping an envelope from his pocket.

  "Yes," Angela said.

  The investigator ripped the end of the envelope off and blew a puff of air inside, separating its edges. He smiled as he fished out the slip of paper.

  "Love letter?" he teased before unfolding the leaf, remembering how she'd shoved the envelope at him after dinner at the Wallace estate.

  Duncan glanced at the sheet, seeing The nephew did it, scrawled in Angela's handwriting. The lass knew all along who nicked the pendant.

  "Uhm, uhm," Donald coughed, trying to get the couple's attention.

  "Yes, Donald?" Duncan responded without turning around.

  "Let's have a seat and ye children can explain what ye've been aboot to the special constable, and I'm not speaking of yer Edinburgh shenanigans," the innkeeper said, tapping the newspaper on the bar.

  Donald pointed towards a table tucked in a corner nook of the pub. He lead the way, limping. His knee gave him trouble again. The innkeeper signaled a waiter to bring them all a pint and waited for the drinks to arrive.

  "I'll be needing this, I'm sure," Donald said, glass in hand. "Ladies first, Angela."

  Angela glanced from the innkeeper to Duncan. She'd have to confess all.

  "That first night at the manor, I knew something was strange. Wally kept talking about his mountain climbing experiences, but his hands were so soft." She stole a quick look at Duncan before continuing, a blush rising to her cheeks, "He touched me several times that night."

  The investigator shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. He was glad he'd clobbered that crook.

  "The other odd thing was his attire. He was so proud of his station in life and took great care with his appearance, yet his jacket was off the rack. His trousers, belt, shoes, and shirt were all bespoke."

  "How could you tell that?" Duncan asked.

  Angela made a quizzical face at the Scotsman that relayed several messages at once: Oh, come on, Isn't it obvious? and Haven't you learned anything about me?

  She continued, "When Susanne revealed the dimensions of the missing piece, I took a close look at the pockets on that jacket. They looked large enough to house the pendant. Upon close examination, I determined that his left compartment either held an item or had contained something recently. A slight bump near it's right corner told me this."

  "Smart lass," the innkeeper and special constable said.

  "Thank you, Donald." She continued, giving Duncan a fleeting glance, "Unfortunately, Wally assumed I was checking him out. He started a flirtation with me that very night. Said something about a contest between him and Duncan. I thought he meant a contest for me, but now I think he had broader goals."

  She looked from Donald to Duncan, embarrassment on her face.

  "Continue, Lass. I think ye did well," the innkeeper encouraged.

  "When he kept showing up in that jacket, I was pretty sure his pocket held the jewel. What better place to ensure it wouldn't be discovered than on his person? With time running out, I knew I needed to do something. He planned to return to the Continent after Hogmanay. When he showed up today at the kirk, I ran my hand over his chest and definitely felt the stolen property. That's when he tried to kiss me and you appeared, Duncan."

  "Aye. You put yourself in danger, Angela, without knowing it. I've learned some facts about Walter Wallace that aren't common knowledge," Duncan said.

  "Such as?" the innkeeper inquired.

  "Hello!" a voice called from across the pub.

  They glanced from their nook to the door, where Reginald Norcroft had just entered. The laird, looking dapper as usual, waved and walked to their table, a spring in his step.

  "How is everyone? I haven't missed dinner, have I?" the ornithologist asked.

  "Nae, ye've got at least an hour." the innkeeper said, digging into his trouser pocket and producing a key. "Why dinnae ye freshen up at the cottage and then make yer way back to the inn?"

  "Quite right!" Reggie said, taking the key from his old friend. "It has been a long journey."

  "Make yersel at home and take yer time. Dinnae fash yersel, we'll hold dinner fir ye."

  "Thank you, Donny," the laird said to his old friend before heading back outside.

  The innkeeper turned his attention back to Duncan and bid him continue.

  "I have a private detective I use from time to time. He's not above skirting the law, Donald."

  The innkeeper raised one eyebrow before knitting them both together in an intense stare. Angela held her breath, wondering what Duncan's source had discovered about the errant Wally Wallace.

  "Anywise, he discovered that Walter made many cash deposits to his bank accounts, all small enough to avoid suspicion, but which accumulated to quite a bit of money. He had no known means of support, either. The man was involved in some kind of nefarious activities. Two important pieces of jewelry have been reported stolen in
Switzerland in the past year. To date, neither have been recovered. The nephew's last known residence is Geneva. Maybe instead of mountains, he scaled through windows on his way to pinching jewels, the tealeaf. The clincher was the sealed records."

  "What?" Donald asked, furrowing his brows together once more.

  "I'm afraid Walter had a sordid youth. Somehow, my investigator got hold of sealed criminal records. He's got a history of stealing from friends of his family and even some violence. It appears Susanne took him under her wing to try and help him come clean. That's why she refused police help. In the back of her mind, she must have worried the culprit might be her nephew and hoped he'd confess to her himself. It was bad luck for him that she discovered the theft the night we were there. But, since he made it plain he was aware of my history, I have to wonder if he wanted to see if he could match wits with a well-known detective. I was in the papers recently. It was probably something his ego couldn't resist and prompted the theft."

  "So ye think Susanne is innocent?" the innkeeper asked, lowering his voice.

  "I do, Donald," Duncan said with a nod. He added, "She's just guilty of trying to help her troubled nephew."

  The owner of the Blue Bell smiled with relief.

  "Say, Donald, why wasn't Robert Abernathy the one to meet treasure hunters at the kirk, and what was that crazy get-up Angus was in?" Duncan asked.

  The innkeeper laughed, pleased with himself.

  "I'll tell ye a secret," he whispered. "I'm in charge of resuscitating old customs fir this year's Hogmanay celebration. The festival's committee thought we'd gain some national repute, if it went o'er well. Yer brother won the treasure hunt and his prize is participation in one of these customs. Ye could say he's the star attraction. That's all I'll divulge fir now. Ye'll have to witness it tomorrow night," the innkeeper revealed. "Oh, and Robert was occupied baking black buns, shortbread, and oat loaves fir First Footing."

  Duncan wondered what his brother had gotten himself into, as he explained to Angela the Scottish custom of who should be the first foot in the house after midnight and what they were expected to bring.