Kilt in Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  Diana looked at the picture. “It certainly looks like hers. But that doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t made the same colorway.”

  Rory returned his phone to his pocket and put a hand to Diana’s back. “Let’s keep walking.”

  As she turned the corner, and the quilting dorms came into sight, she saw that while they’d been in Whussendale, work had begun on Thistle Glen Lodge to clean up after the fire. A pile of charred wood scraps and burnt rugs were piled outside the quilting dorm. The sound of hammering rang from the interior.

  “I hope they can make the cottage good as new.” She looked over at Duncan's Den, their destination. The quilters were rolling their suitcases out, heading for Quilting Central and their final hour in Gandiegow. Diana waved to them as they passed by, as she had more she wanted to say to Rory in private…about the murder, and nothing else.

  “About Leo and the Lover’s Knot quilt…was there a tag on the back?”

  “Nay.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not Lorna’s. Not all quilts have tags,” Diana commented. “Maybe Lorna’s quilt is still at Duncan's Den.”

  “It isn’t. Deydie had Moira check.”

  “Oh,” Diana said.

  “I should’ve asked someone in Gandiegow to check for the quilt, when we first thought Parker and Ewan were missing.” He looked irritated with himself.

  Diana touched his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have stopped Leo’s murder even if you’d known Lorna’s quilt was missing.” Diana was angry, too, but for a totally different reason. “If only Parker and Ewan would’ve let us know they were eloping.”

  “Aye,” Rory said. “Wasted time and worry.”

  He completely understood her. The thought warmed her, though it shouldn’t.

  He pushed on. “What I need to know now is how the murders were committed in the fifth book.”

  “I told you. One couple was killed in a secluded cabin. The other was killed in baggage claim.”

  “Were there any other murders?”

  “No. Though the killer definitely had plans to. You see, DI Abercrombie, a character in the story, and his love interest, Heather, acted as decoys and caught the killer red-handed.”

  “What are the details of the last one—the attempted murder?” Rory asked, as if not wanting to give her any information first.

  “All the murders, it turns out, were connected through a website, which set up romantic getaways for couples in Scotland. Each of the female victims had ties to the Buttermilk Guild. The third murder setup was for a romantic dinner at a haunted castle. The killer came at the detective with a knife, but earlier, the Buttermilk Guild had set up trip wires to trip up the killer. Apparently, the killer was going to make it look like a murder-suicide—a stabbing and a hanging. He’d already positioned a noose over an exposed beam.” She paused, watching Rory’s face to see if any of this matched up with Leo’s murder. “Well, does any of this sound like the crime scene?”

  “Only the castle and the knife. But no rope,” Rory confided. “Either the murderer didn’t have a chance to get the noose placed in time, or perhaps Leo’s murder was a crime of passion.”

  “A crime of passion?” Diana asked. “The only person I can think who might want Leo dead is Marta. He might be the one who set fire to her bed. Where was she when it happened?”

  “She said she was on the balcony having a cigarette.”

  “Do McCartney and MacTaggart corroborate her story?”

  “My team admits they lost track of her for a moment. They reported she had gone to the restroom. Instead, she gave them the slip.”

  “Sounds suspicious,” Diana said.

  “I don’t know,” Rory replied. “When I was interviewing her, Marta said she needed space, that she was getting a headache from the music and the noise from the céilidh. She complained that McCartney and MacTaggart were hovering. Then she demanded to have Declan and Tavon added onto her detail.” Rory rolled his eyes. “Declan and Tavon are too polite to tell her to shove off and keep her advances to herself.”

  Rory gave Diana a look, as if he was reliving how she’d put the moves on Declan.

  Diana knew she’d acted stupidly and impulsively, but she wasn’t going to apologize again. She gave Rory a hard stare to convey her sentiment. She wouldn’t tell him that, even though Declan was certainly good-looking, it was DCI Crannach who did it for her.

  Rory looked away, as if his murder board was off in the distance. “Perhaps I’ve been going at this all wrong. Maybe Marta’s been committing these murders to give her new book and the series some major exposure.”

  “But why kill off her boyfriend—both current and ex?” she said.

  “Publicity? Sympathy from the public? I don’t know,” Rory said.

  “That sounds like her,” Diana said. “Marta has been brilliant in guiding the marketing team on how to showcase her, which has increased sales.” But killing off the Buttermilk Guild for no good reason that Diana could see seemed like an epic fail. “Or maybe Marta needed a clean slate to make room for someone new. Perhaps there’s a man waiting in the wings and she didn’t want Rance or Leo interfering.”

  “Well,” Rory said, “I’m putting Marta on the suspect list. She could have pushed Tilly into the carding machine. We’ve seen how she treats her.”

  “If Marta is behind all the murders, she’d have to be a criminal mastermind,” Diana said.

  “I agree.” He pulled his notebook from his pocket. “I’m going to go through all her statements again and look for inconsistencies.” He didn’t open the notebook, though. “I’ll need to be fresh to do it. I’m completely wiped out from nearly no sleep last night.”

  She could read his mind. Last night wasn’t the only night in which he’d lost sleep. The two previous nights, they’d stayed up way past their bedtimes.

  Diana touched his arm. “Do you want me to get McCartney or MacTaggart for you? So you can tell them what you’re thinking about Marta?”

  He laid a hand over hers and squeezed. “Nay. I’ll go with ye to Quilting Central. I need to speak with Lorna, and I want to be there when the quilters leave. It shouldn’t be too much longer. I’ll talk to my team then.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you there.” She started toward the walkway leading to Duncan's Den.

  Rory pulled her to a stop. “For a smart lass, ye’re not very cautious. Remember the buddy system? I don’t want ye to go anywhere alone.”

  “Right.” Didn’t he know it was his fault she was a little addled? Being near him frazzled her brain.

  Rory held on to her hand the rest of the way to Duncan's Den and opened the door.

  “I’ll only be a minute to put my things away.”

  Rory went with her to the bedroom. She thought he might stay at the door and stand guard. Instead, he came in and shut the door. Her heart went giddy with anticipation.

  He chuckled. “I see that look in yere eyes, lass. We haven’t the time and I haven’t the energy. Ye’ve worn me out.”

  “Then why close the door?” she asked, feeling let down and a bit rejected.

  He crossed the room in three steps and pulled her into his arms. “For this.” He bent his head down and kissed her. It was a crazy hot kiss, saying a lot more than his words had. When he was done, he pulled back a little. It wasn’t just his lips that had some meaning to get across, his eyes were doing double duty, too, searching hers. “Ye needed a reminder of how a real man kisses. Especially after last night’s debacle with Declan.” Rory had tacked the last on the end, as if this one-sided conversation would put the matter to rest forever.

  “Yeah,” she breathed out. She agreed. Rory knew his way around her lips. “Right.”

  Laughing and looking satisfied with his powers of persuasion, he placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her back to the overnight bag she’d brought with her. “Put yere things away. I’ll be waiting in the living room. Then we can get to Quilting Central.”

  It only took a moment
before she was meeting up with him. When she walked into the living room, he was standing by the mantel, looking as if he was deep in thought. The man took her breath away! The fog from his kiss was only just beginning to clear and a thought was emerging.

  “Are we alone?” she asked.

  He looked up. “No one here but us.”

  “I was thinking more about your theory—that Marta might be behind the murders. Certainly she’s cunning enough and, if I might add, malicious enough, at times. But if she did commit the murders, she is one hell of an actress. She seems truly upset over Leo’s murder.”

  Rory shrugged. “I’ve seen plenty of criminals lie, put on a believable show, and still be as guilty as sin.” He followed her out the door.

  “You’re right. I don’t have firsthand knowledge of criminals.” Though her dad certainly had. “I won’t tell anyone of your suspicions. Or anything that we’ve discussed.”

  “I know you won’t,” Rory said.

  Though the temperature outside was dropping, his trust in her was warming.

  Diana’s phone dinged. A text from Nicola at Three Seals.

  Call me. we need to talk.

  There was no indication whether Nicola had good news or bad. Which was bad news for Diana, as she wished she had some assurances to offer Tilly.

  “Is everything okay?” Rory asked.

  “I need to call the office.”

  “Come.” He put a hand to her back. “Let’s get ye out of the cold first.” He looked down at her short skirt. “Ye’re going to have to dress warmer if ye plan to stay in Scotland.”

  She wheeled around to see if he was saying what she thought he was saying. Did he want her in Scotland for longer than just this job?

  He only smiled, which cleared nothing up.

  “Yes, well,” she stammered, trying to pull herself together. “I’m a New York lass and I’m perfectly warm.” Though the cold was starting to get to her. Or maybe it was her nerves. She turned back around and rushed to Quilting Central.

  Once inside, she found the quilters putting on their coats.

  “We’re off to lunch,” Deydie announced. “Hurry now. Dominic has the pasta almost ready and fresh bread is hot from the oven, too.”

  Rory stared at Diana apologetically. She understood he had to go to the restaurant to keep an eye on his new suspect.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I’m going to stay here and make that call.”

  Rory turned to MacTaggart. “Ye’ll stay with her.”

  His words said he wanted her safe.

  The tone behind them said he cared.

  And the part of her that knew best didn’t want him to feel something for her. They were just having a little Scottish fling, right? She also didn’t want to care about him either. But she did. It was an impossible situation on so many levels. But mostly, she was in way over her head…in the deep end of the pool without a life jacket and no idea how to paddle to safe water.

  MacTaggart wandered over to the coffee maker, while she settled herself on the sofa in the library area and waited for the call to connect.

  “Nicola Jacobson here.”

  “Hi, it’s Diana. What’s the news? Did you read over the promo plan I sent you?”

  “Yes. Marketing is taking a look at it now. They want more detail on how you plan to position the sister—since she would be coming out as the author now.”

  Diana thought that was encouraging. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Dream sequence,” Nicola scoffed, which dashed Diana’s rising hope that the Buttermilk Guild would ride again.

  “Anything else?” Diana said, wanting to get off the phone so she could start on the new request.

  “Yes,” Nicola said. “Where’s the footage you promised of Cait Buchanan interviewing Marta? And I hope you had the good sense to have Graham Buchanan sitting next to his wife.”

  Diana pointed out the obvious. “We’ve had a lot going on here with the murders. But we’re back in Gandiegow now and we’ll start the interviews today.”

  “You’ll get them to me by 8 am tomorrow, New York time,” Nicola said before she hung up.

  Diana stared at the phone.

  “All done?” asked MacTaggart, who sipped his coffee as he walked to the library area.

  “Yeah.” Diana was probably going to be fired over how this launch had gone. “I’m ready to go to the restaurant.” Though she didn’t think she could eat.

  “I’m ready, too. I need something more substantial.”

  MacTaggart didn’t realize it, but he’d hit the nail on the head. Diana needed something more substantial, too. Not food. But in life.

  She’d always loved her job, but it wasn’t fulfilling her like it used to.

  She was in a semi-quasi relationship that wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe once or twice, she’d fantasized about taking her fling with Rory to the next level, but the truth was there wasn’t a next level. An ocean lay between them. And even more of an impediment…Diana didn’t want to end up alone like her mother, when Rory ended up like her father…dead. As would surely happen. It was best to end things now with Rory and quit waffling back and forth.

  She picked up her bag and headed out. She understood now, if she was going to have a relationship, she wanted someone like Rory. The world was full of people. Surely there was someone out there who would fit her requirements. Rory-like, but not as gallant. Someone who shied away from harm’s way. Someone who wouldn’t stand in front of another to take a bullet.

  Suddenly, as if a spotlight had been illuminated on the truth, Diana realized that Rory was her soulmate. But that doesn’t change a thing. She couldn’t be with him. Soulmate or not, she couldn’t end up with a cop. For the rest of her life, she’d cling to the memories of this time in Scotland, of being with him; these memories would keep her company in the days and years ahead. She just couldn’t fool herself any longer. She couldn’t both have him and preserve who she was.

  Melancholy covered her, as if it was a second skin. She had to walk away from Rory. Starting now.

  With purpose, she trudged to Pastas & Pastries and was proud of herself for not glancing in Rory’s direction when she got there. She pulled out Parker’s camera and recorded Marta chatting with the quilters, showing off how much Marta liked the everyday woman and how much they liked her.

  Tilly sidled up beside her, checking for eavesdroppers as if they were plotting to overthrow the country.

  “Have you heard back from Three Seals about you-know-what?”

  Diana nodded solemnly.

  “What did they say?” Tilly said eagerly.

  “Marketing is looking at it.” Remembering Nicola’s tone on the phone, Diana put the camera on the table and gave Tilly her full attention. “You have to understand, there is no precedent for what we’re suggesting. Publishers tend to play it safe. Even though Nicola asked for a promo plan, I’m not sure she’s completely onboard with continuing the Quilt to Death series and calling the current book just a ‘bad dream.’ We should remain cautiously optimistic, and no more. Three Seals has made no promises.”

  Tilly’s face fell, going from happy and expectant to utter disappointment. She said nothing, just walked away.

  Diana felt awful and started to go after her. But reassuring her that all would be well would only be self-serving, even cruel, if their plan to continue the Quilt to Death series didn’t pan out. Diana’s heart hurt for Tilly as the older woman’s shoulders resumed their usual slump.

  19

  Rory couldn’t help wondering what Tilly and Diana were talking about. After Tilly slunk away, he walked over to Diana and said the first thing that came to mind, forgetting he should’ve installed a filter first. “Do ye want to join me for my lie down?” At least no one was close by to hear his proposition.

  Several emotions played out on her face. She seemed to be a lass at war with herself. “Sorry,” she finally said. “Can’t. I need to take video of Marta.”

  “Ye can vid
eo Marta later.”

  “No time. Later I have to tape Cait’s interview with Marta in which she reveals Gandiegow as the inspiration for the series. We’re leaving Gandiegow tomorrow.”

  “What?” No! There was still so much more he wanted to investigate about his relationship with Diana. Like…why he felt a little dizzy when she was around. And why his chest was tight, whenever he thought of her.

  “After the quilters leave, I’ll try to talk Marta into going up the bluff to get some scenic shots, too, before the interviews.”

  Rory knew the cemetery was up there and a cold chill passed through him.

  “I don’t want ye alone with her. Do ye hear?”

  “And that should wrap things up here in Scotland.” Diana went right on, like she was reciting lines in a play. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time at all.”

  But I want you to stay!

  “I’m sorry for the trouble we’ve brought to Scotland.”

  “Don’t go!” he blurted. Emotion ripped through him, making him feel weak, powerless. He had to convince her. “Ye could hang around a bit longer, couldn’t ye?” He felt like an idiot. “I could use you to bounce ideas off of--.”

  She flinched when he said use.

  But he plowed on. “To talk about the case.” He felt desperate.

  She’d recovered, her mask firmly in place, covering the hurt he’d caused her. “You don’t need me. You have everything under control.”

  I have nothing under control! He placed his fists on his hips. “I’m worried about your safety.” He should’ve said he cared about her instead of acting like a police officer. But he couldn’t help himself. “Who’s going to watch out for you once you leave?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Her worried expression made a brief appearance before going undercover once again. “I’m a New Yorker. Caution is second nature to me.”

  “I wonder if Bettus or Shamley might’ve said the same thing,” Rory retorted. Anything to make her see the error in her logic.

  She clutched the video camera. “I need to get back to work. Have a nice nap.”

  How could he? She wasn’t going to be in his arms. Protected. Out of harm’s way. For the first time, the job didn’t feel like it was enough. He wanted more. But Diana had walked away.