When she stood straight again with the box in her arms, Rory was there.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You said you were going to send an officer.”
“Pressure from above,” he grumbled. “They wanted a senior officer to be here tonight, in case there is another international incident. Normally, I’m not reduced to babysitting detail.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted. He made her feel so safe.
He reached for the box. “Let me get that.”
“Thanks. That would be great. It’ll save me a trip or two.” And it would save me from being out here alone in the dark.
Using his head, he gestured to the car. “Add another box on top. I can take both.”
She did as he asked…or rather, as he commanded. “If you didn’t want to be here, then why are you here so early?” Finally, she grabbed the tube with the Quilt to Death banner and the Rook quilt before walking with him to the community center.
“I came early to do a search and get the layout of the building. When the place starts to fill up, I’ll be able to keep an eye on everyone and everything.”
“Smart,” she said. “Have you gotten started yet?”
“I just finished.”
“But how did you get in? Is someone else here?”
“The guild president, Cheryl. She’s in the kitchen.” Even though his hands were full, he balanced the boxes and held the door open for her.
As she crossed over the threshold, she closed her eyes and breathed him in. Just a hint of woodsy aftershave was enough to make her want to breathe him in again. So much for being over men.
A round woman in her sixties rushed to them.
“Cheryl,” Rory said, “This is Diana McKellan.”
“It’s lovely to meet ye in person.” Cheryl had laugh lines around her eyes and a pleasant expression on her face.
Diana gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you for agreeing to have the meeting anyway.”
“My board and I made calls to all the members today. We told them if they couldn’t be nice to Marta Dixon this evening, then they should stay home.”
Three more women arrived and helped Diana set up the signing table, hang the banner and quilt, and place a bookmark on each chair. She learned they were on the guild board, too. Thirty minutes later, Marta’s entourage showed up—Tilly first, carrying a box of books in her arms while lugging Marta’s Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder. Next, a very large man—a man much beefier than Rory—stalked in behind her, his eyes darting this way and that. When he saw Rory, he broke into a grin. The two men clasped hands like old friends.
“Good to see you,” the beefy one said in a French accent.
Rory looked happy to see him and told Diana, “This is Jacques Boucher.”
Diana had spoken with him on the phone and was exceedingly glad he could take the job of protecting Marta. But when she saw the embattled author, Diana was taken aback. The makeup caked on her face did little to hide the stain that covered half of her features from her scalp to her chin. However, it was Marta’s red and watery eyes and her too-friendly-for-her smile that disturbed Diana.
She pulled Tilly to the side. “Is Marta all right?”
“I gave her a couple of Valiums. She was pretty upset when Rance’s murder sank in.” Tilly looked a little sheepish. “Maybe you could take this opportunity to talk to Marta. Convince her that the series can’t end, that it has to go on.”
Diana had to work hard not to roll her eyes. “How exactly could we undo the Buttermilk Guild deaths?” An even bigger obstacle would be to get Marta to write something other than true crime. In the meeting Diana had sat in on with Marta, she’d been adamant about ending the Quilt to Death series.
“I don’t know.” But Tilly looked hopeful. “I thought with Rance gone, Marta would see reason.”
Diana shook her head. “Sorry, Tilly. I don’t believe the Buttermilk Guild is going to come back.” She glanced over at Marta. “Good grief! Is she drooling? Do you think she’ll be able to give her presentation?” What a disaster! After all the wrangling Diana had to do to convince the guild not to cancel the engagement. “On another subject, I need to talk to you about what’s on the docket for tomorrow. We have a change of venue.”
“Tiillllly?” Marta called goofily. “Come talk to me.”
Diana tried to take a calming breath. “Can you get her a cup of coffee first?”
“Sure.” Tilly went to the kitchen area.
Jacques took up his position beside Marta, allowing Diana to finish the prep for the guild presentation.
When Parker arrived, Diana swooped down on her.
“Make sure not to get any close-ups of Marta’s face. Besides her red-stained skin, she’s more than a little strung out on Valium.”
“Sure, boss. I’ll take some pictures of the setup before the place gets crowded.”
Rory didn’t mingle with the quilters or Jacques, but stood where he could see both doors as the quilters arrived. When two guild members made their way to the kitchen to drop off plates of cookies, he shifted positions to keep an eye on them, too.
But as it turned out, the expected fifty members shrank to seven, most of them on the board, who had either been required to come because of their position, or threatened by Cheryl, the president.
“Och, I’m so sorry,” Cheryl exclaimed at 7:01. “I think we’re it. We better get started.”
Diana patted her arm. “It’s not your fault.” It’s Marta’s. And the publisher for not finding a way to keep Marta from offing the Buttermilk guild. “Why don’t we make it a cozy gathering? Informal.”
Chairs scraped the concrete floor, as they moved into a semicircle around Marta’s table. Everyone helped, except Marta, who sat behind her station, glassy-eyed. Diana was certain, if Marta had been her normal diva-self, she wouldn’t have gone along with changing the event into something so casual and intimate. She probably would’ve thrown a fit and stormed out, blaming Diana that so few people had shown up.
Cheryl positioned herself to the side, clapped her hands twice, and the room went quiet. “I’m glad everyone could make it this evening.” Her frown conveyed her disappointment at the small turnout. “Our guest needs no introduction, as we are all fans of the Quilt to Death series. Ms. Dixon, thank you for honoring our quilt guild by speaking with us. I’ll turn it over to ye.” Cheryl took her seat to the far right and waited.
Marta gave them all a goofy grin, but didn’t say a word.
Diana quickly moved to the front. “Since we have a room full of fans, who would like to be first to ask a question?”
A woman with a bouffant hairdo raised her hand. “I will.”
Diana checked first to make sure Bouffant wasn’t holding a miniature milk can like the woman at the bookshop. “Go ahead.” She hoped Marta would snap out of her drug stupor and answer the woman’s question lucidly.
Bouffant stared down at Marta. “Tell us why we should keep buying yere books after ye murdered the Buttermilk Guild. I have to tell ye, it feels like an affront to Scotland!”
Jacques moved forward, as if to tackle the woman. Diana popped up and blocked him. She noticed Cheryl’s cheeks were flushed, but apparently Cheryl wanted Marta to answer Bouffant’s question, too, as she made no move to control one of her members.
Diana wished Cheryl would’ve done a better job of vetting the crowd. Or non-crowd as it were. Except no one would’ve come.
Marta’s head tilted to the side as her hand shot in the air. “Free books for everyone!” Her words were slurred.
Diana took over, stepping in front of the signing table and putting her arms out, in case anything came flying in Marta’s direction. “Yes, everyone will get a free copy of Marta’s next book. I’ll collect your addresses and make sure it happens.”
They all crossed their arms as if they wanted no more books from the Buttermilk Guild killer. These quilters needed a diversion, anything to bring down the hostility.
&
nbsp; Diana summoned her perkiest voice. “I see some of you brought quilts to have signed. How about you bring them up to Marta now?”
At that moment, there was a noise at the back of the room—the metal door leading from outside chafed the concrete floor. Everyone turned in their seat to see a man enter. And because Rory was right there and on guard, Diana put her attention back on the group.
“One at a time, bring your quilts up.” It won’t take long. “I have a fabric pen here for Marta to use.”
Bouffant stood and slammed her hands on her hips. “I want to know how she—” Bouffant jabbed a finger at Marta “—has the nerve to come to Scotland after what she’s done.”
The new visitor rushed toward the circle of quilters. “Leave her alone!”
Diana didn’t freak out. Rory kept pace with him, scanning him as if looking for a weapon. The Detective Chief Inspector had an air about him that said he was ready to take the intruder down, if the need arose. But mostly, Rory seemed interested in what the man was saying.
Marta looked up, coming to life. “Leo?”
This is Leo? At the office, people talked disparagingly about him. Diana was shocked to see he was very handsome. Tall, a head of blond hair, anchorman good looks.
Marta didn’t get up, but cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Malibu Hills Rehab, I mean, Resort…resting.”
Leo stopped and gazed at Marta with complete earnestness. “I got your message, sweetheart.” He acted as if Bouffant and the rest of them had disappeared, and now he had Marta all to himself.
“What are you talking about?” Marta whined with confusion. “What message?”
“On the phone. Halloween night. I could tell you were missing me. I sensed you were ready to be rid of that hot-aired loser, Rance. You know I couldn’t stand him. He wasn’t right for you, punkin.”
Marta emitted a choking sound. “Didn’t you hear? Rance is dead.”
“I know,” Leo said. “I mean, I heard.”
Marta rubbed her forehead, gazing at Leo.
He gave her a sad smile as if to tuck away the past. “I came to be with you. And I want you to know that I forgive you.”
Marta seemed completely befuddled. Diana wasn’t sure if it was the Valium or Leo’s attempt at absolving her.
Bouffant stiffened at the words. “Well, we don’t forgive her!”
Leo turned on Bouffant. “You better sit down and leave my woman alone.”
His words riled the quilters, as they all came to their feet, speaking at once. “Ye have no right to be here!” “If ye know what’s good for ye…” “Ye better leave!”
Rory interceded then, by taking Leo’s arm. “I’ll walk ye out.”
But Leo wasn’t done and broke away, rushing toward Marta. Jacques gently moved Diana aside and took up his post in front of his charge.
As Rory grabbed Leo’s collar and brought him to a firm stop, Leo wailed to Marta, “Now that Rance is dead, we can be together, right?”
At Marta’s look of shock, Diana wondered if she was thinking what Diana was thinking: Did Leo kill Rance?
There was some real merit to this theory. Leo had to know the particulars of Marta’s books. And he had motive.
Diana watched as Rory dragged Leo away, wishing she could go along with him to grill Leo with her questions. Rory had his ear to his phone before he even got him through the door.
She brought her attention back to the quilters, because apparently, Marta was too spaced out or too wigged out to get the meeting going again. “How about we get back to signing some quilts now?” she said brightly.
Only two of the seven people brought their quilts forward for a signature. And not one copy of the new book sold, only two earlier books. On the bright side, there wasn’t a dead body outside as the evening concluded, and Diana was relieved.
Rory appeared again in the open room and came toward her.
“Where’s Leo?” she asked.
“An officer came and took him to the police station for questioning.”
“Here,” Parker said. “Let me help you with the Rook quilt.”
Diana wanted to know more about Leo, but held on to her questions for now.
With the Rook quilt off the stand, they took the corners and folded it. “I won’t be going with you to the hotel.”
“What’s going on?” Diana asked.
“I’m going with Cheryl to the home of one of the members who couldn’t come tonight, to photograph her collection of the Quilt to Death quilts. They’re supposed to be works of art. Cheryl said she’ll drop me off at the hotel afterward.”
“Let me know when you’ve made it back safely, will you?” Diana said. Even though there wasn’t a murder at the meeting tonight, it didn’t mean they were in the clear just yet.
“Sure,” Parker agreed.
The four of them—Parker, Cheryl, Diana, and Rory—hefted their boxes and headed for the door. Cheryl locked up the community center, said goodbye, and she and Parker walked off down the dark sidewalk.
Diana was alone with Rory and suddenly she was aware of her body. And his. She felt like she’d forgotten how to walk and how to talk. She forced herself to say something.
“I’m glad you came tonight.” It felt stupid while she was saying it. But she was glad he’d come. Glad for the help to get things to her car, glad for the company, and especially glad he’d been there to circumvent Leo’s intentions, whatever they were. “I’m grateful I don’t have to do this alone. Spooky.” And she felt stupider.
He glanced over at her, his gaze lingering for a moment, before he said, “Happy to do it.”
They walked in silence to her car, the air thick with something. Sexual tension? Or probably more accurately, her imagination that there was something going on between them!
Diana unlocked the car. She wished he’d say something, anything, as they stowed each item.
Rory placed the last box in the back seat. “Is that everything?”
Her heart skipped a little. Was he stalling in order to spend more time with her? He had to know there were no more boxes to stow and the building was locked.
But he opened the driver’s side door and waited for her to slide in.
“Thanks.” Diana hesitated, not wanting him to go. She wished she had the nerve to take his hand or to make the first move, whatever that might be.
“Good night, Diana.” He shut the door and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. It all felt so final.
She held her hand up in a silent wave, knowing the truth. It wasn’t just good night. It was goodbye.
She drove away feeling as if she’d missed out on something good.
At the hotel, she had to walk alone from the parking lot to the lobby. At her room, she had no manly Scot to search her place for anyone who might be lurking, waiting to kill her.
She locked the door, turned on every light, and made sure the window was latched. To calm the apprehension that had a stranglehold on her, she ran a bath. She needed a good soak to unravel her pent-up nerves. Of course, she was being ridiculous. Rance’s murder was a fluke, and Rory—along with the rest of the police in Scotland—would soon find his killer.
She grabbed her phone and took it to the bathroom with her. Rory had told her to dial 999 in case of emergency and she meant to keep her phone close. She dipped her foot in the tub and then sank down in the warm water. Immediately, she relaxed. She laid her head back on the tile and closed her eyes, thinking of a certain police officer.
Her phone rang, and she jumped, nearly knocking her cell into the water as she scrambled for a washcloth to dry her hands.
“Hello,” she said.
“Are ye okay?” Rory asked. “Ye sound out of breath.”
“Your call startled me.” She wasn’t going to tell him she was in the tub, naked. She stood to grab a towel. Certainly, a couple yards of terrycloth would help calm her rampant heart.
“Is that water I’m hearing?”
“I’m calling with bad news,” he said.
Her heart went on a sprint. “Is Marta okay? Tilly? Parker?”
“The Ms. Dixons are fine. Marta wasn’t picking up, so I called Jacques. They are safe at Marta’s flat. Don’t worry about Parker. She’s fine. She’s here with me.”
“What?” Were they out together, having a drink? Diana had always liked Parker, but she certainly didn’t harbor any warm feelings for her now. “Why are you calling then?”
“The Buttermilk Guild struck again.”
Diana’s lungs constricted. “What?” she barely squeaked out.
“Cheryl, the guild president, and Parker went to check on Judy Keith tonight after the event. You know, the woman whose quilt was used in the first murder? Apparently, Judy had told everyone she was coming to the meeting tonight and planned to bring the rest of her quilts to have Marta sign them.”
“And?”
“Judy’s dead.”
Diana clutched her phone and used her other hand to steady herself against the wall. “Dead? It can’t be.”
“With a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, just like last night’s victim,” Rory said. “Cheryl confirmed it was the Buttermilk Guild’s Sampler quilt with the same note attached as the first victim.”
“Then it is a serial killer,” Diana whispered, feeling more afraid than before. “Was Leo involved?” She felt a little dizzy. “But why would anyone go after Judy Keith? She was such a nice lady.” Diana shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t mean to imply Rance got what he deserved because he wasn’t nice.
“We don’t know why Judy Keith was targeted. So far, the only theory we’ve come up with is the killer thought Judy saw him last night at the bookshop, when he took her quilt. Maybe he was afraid Ms. Keith could identify him to us.”
Kilt in Scotland Page 5