by Connie Berry
For a moment I considered the possibility that Guthrie was delusional. If he wasn’t the killer, who was? It had to be someone who stood to lose as much or more if the truth about Arnott came out.
Then I knew. Everything—the footsteps in the night, the missing items from the hotel and the Historical Society, my cottage searched, the disarray in the attic, the secret passageway.
I picked up my cell phone and scrolled to the number of the police station in Mallaig. I’d begun to dial when the door opened.
Penny Arnott stepped deftly over the mat. She pointed her father’s army revolver at my chest. “Hang up and give me the diary.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I pressed END and held up the phone for Penny to see.
“Slide it to me on the floor.” Her eyes were shiny marbles. “Now the book.” She closed the space between us in two long steps. Keeping the gun trained on me, she pocketed the phone and the diary. “Thanks. Saves me a lot of trouble.”
Maybe playing dumb would work. “Dr. Guthrie killed two people over that diary, Penny. Don’t you think we should call the police?”
That cracked Penny up. She threw her head back and hooted, her lips stretched over a tangle of yellow teeth.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” Penny was still chuckling. “Doc Guthrie didn’t kill anybody.”
“How do you know?”
Penny cocked her head like a turkey vulture spotting a fresh carcass. “Because I did. You’re not as smart as you look.”
I’ll give you that one. What now? Penny did like the sound of her own voice. “How did you know about the diary?”
“Found it in that fancy little wooden chest. Pack of lies.”
“That was clever, Penny. Most people wouldn’t have discovered the secret compartment. And the little chest is called a casket.” Impending death is no excuse for sloppy terminology. “Where did you find it?”
“Didn’t find it anywhere.” Penny’s eyebrows formed an angry line. “Belongs to us. Elenor stole it.”
“Why didn’t you destroy the diary as soon as you discovered it?”
“I was going to,” Penny screeched. “Decided to burn it in the fireplace, but couldn’t do that with Cilla around, see? She’d want to know what I was doing. She’d insist on reading it. Couldn’t let that happen. Cilla idolizes that man.”
Was she talking about Captain Arnott or Hugh Guthrie? I stared in amazement as a tear rolled down Penny’s cheek.
She swiped at the tear with the revolver. “Before I got my chance, Cilla gave the thing to the Historical Society.”
I remembered Becca’s story about Penny bursting in and accusing Elenor of taking something Cilla had donated by mistake. “Why would Cilla donate the casket to the Historical Society?”
“For the new Arnott display. Girl’s not Mensa material, in case you hadn’t noticed. Have to watch her like a hawk.”
“So that’s why you wanted to get into Elenor’s flat. You knew she had the casket and hoped she hadn’t found the diary yet.”
“Wrong. Knew she’d found the diary when she said the doc’s second book would be a big surprise. Poor wee Flora.” Penny sneered. “Liar is more like it. Traitor. Back-stabber. Turned poor Captain Arnott’s servants against him. Got what she deserved.”
“Penny, have you read the diary? As soon as the baby was born, Flora would have had a tragic accident. Arnott murdered his first wife. He already had a wife on the plantation. That’s bigamy. Not to mention that he bought and sold slaves on the side, and almost certainly murdered Flora and Gowyn.”
Penny’s face turned an ugly shade of fuchsia. “Shut yer gob!” Balls of spit exploded from her mouth like grape shot. “You think I’ll allow the name of Arnott to be dragged through the mud?” She gestured wildly with the gun. “They’ll take away our statue. Break Cilla’s heart.” She took a menacing step toward me. “I won’t let that happen.”
I took a step back. “I see your point. You had to do something.”
Penny’s lips curled horribly. “You’re a liar too. You’ll tell.”
She’s completely mad. “How did you know Elenor was here the night of the ball?”
Penny shrugged. “Heard the bell, saw the lights—like tonight. Agnes was here, too. You didn’t know that, did you? The wee scunner was watching them through the window, so I snuck around to the other side. Elenor told the doc he had to publish the second diary. Agnes got spooked and ran off. The doc left, and Elenor started back to the hotel. ’Cept she wasn’t doing so well. Collapsed by the stump. That’s when I showed myself. She said the doc doped her.”
Guthrie hadn’t mentioned giving her drugs, but I wasn’t in a position to argue the point.
“Told me to call for help.” Penny flashed me a canny grin. “I said, ‘Sure thing.’ Went home, got the bow and arrow, and … whaaaap.” Penny mimed a bow, cocking the gun back like an arrow.
I swallowed hard.
“Did you use a bow and arrow because of Flora?”
“No. First thing to hand. Forgot to ask where she hid the diary, though. Been trying to find it ever since—me and the doc.” She chuckled, making it sound like a game of Hide the Thimble.
“You’re the one who broke into my cottage the night of the ball. You put the note in my pocket and the one under my door. DESTROY IT OR ELSE. You stole the casket, and when you found the hidden drawer empty, you thought Elenor had given me the diary.”
“Why else would Elenor invite you to the ball? She didn’t like you.”
Penny might be crazy, but her logic was impeccable. “You used the secret passageway to come and go without being seen. Clever.”
“Cilla and I used to play hide-and-seek in there. No one could ever find us.”
Of course. That’s how the so-called ghost of Flora Arnott could vanish into thin air. No wonder Elenor was spooked. No wonder she thought she saw the ghost. “But why leave the casket in the passageway?”
“Couldn’t take it home with Cilla there, could I? Besides, someone might have seen me carrying the thing. Planned to come back for it later, at night, when things calmed down.”
“But why did you have to kill Agnes?”
“Don’t you get it?” Penny tapped her temple with the gun. “She heard Elenor telling the doc about the second diary. I watched Doc Guthrie meet Agnes in the woods. She wanted him to give her money or she’d spill the beans. Couldn’t risk that. So I waited till he was gone and—thwack.” Now the gun was a knife. “She tried to run, but I got her.”
Poor foolish Agnes. She hadn’t heard a thing.
“Saw you there, too.” Penny made a face. “When you found her.”
“You shot at me.”
“Never was a great distance shooter.” She grinned and aimed the gun. “Now, at close range I never miss.”
“When did you decide to use the Highland dirk?”
“When the doc showed it to you at the Historical Society. Made sense. Use the same weapons used back then. Throw people off the scent.”
I cringed. I was running out of questions. “Who taught you to use the dirk?”
“Father. Taught me all the old Highland ways. Hobby of his. Used one of his old arrows on Elenor. Nice touch, don’t you think?”
“And you planted the arrows in Bo Duff’s garage.”
“Easy peasy.” Penny actually looked pleased with herself.
If I hadn’t had that gun pointed at my head, I’d have slapped her. “What about Dr. Guthrie? Won’t you have to kill him too?”
“He won’t tell. Have to give all that money back, for one. He’d be ruined. Might even go to jail. Any more questions?” Penny waggled her head like a fond parent who knows her child is stalling at bedtime.
Oh, man. Could I drag this out long enough for someone to realize I was missing? “Are you the one who took the silver tray from the hotel. And the things from the Historical Society?”
“Certainly not.” Penny looked almost prim. “That was Cilla.
Only borrowing anyway. I put ’em all back.”
Well, Penny’s standards were unique. Murder? No problem. Kleptomania? Now that was embarrassing. “Um, tell me more about the Arnott family. What happened to James Arnott’s son?”
Penny chuckled again, a deep throaty sound I found deeply disturbing. “Time’s up,” she snarled, and pushed the gun into my chest. “Turn around. Through the museum and out to the burn. That’s where they found poor Captain Arnott. Shot through the head.”
So that was it. My death would be the third and final recreation. First a bow and arrow, then a Highland dirk, now a gun. “You won’t get away with it, Penny. Someone will hear the shot.”
“I’ll say I caught you breaking in. You attacked me. I had no choice.” Penny prodded me with the gun. “Start walking.”
We moved through the double doors into the museum. At least Penny wouldn’t risk shooting me there. Might damage the precious Arnott memorabilia.
“Hurry up,” Penny growled.
I shuddered, imagining the bullet tearing through my skull. Would Penny finish me off there or leave me bleeding to death? My children would be orphans. My mother would be left with no one to care for her in her old age.
Father, into Thy hands I commit—
Then I remembered that wonky leg.
The glass case of pocket watches was just ahead. I pictured Dora MacDonald with her bottle of Windex.
Which leg?
Right front corner. Yes, that was the weak one.
As I passed the case, I put the palm of my hand on the right front edge and pushed down hard, at the same time kicking out the wonky leg.
I leapt out of the way as the case came crashing down in an explosion of glass.
Watches skittered across the floor.
Penny screamed as she fell into the shards of broken glass. She still had the gun, though.
I ducked behind the Bonnie Prince and heard a pop as part of his belted plaid shattered.
Another pop and his sporran exploded. Ouch.
How many bullets did that revolver hold?
Penny scrambled to her feet. She was bleeding, but she held the gun with both hands.
Thud. A bullet lodged somewhere in Charlie’s wooden body.
A few more seconds and my cover would be useless.
Instead of panicking, I felt a white-hot coil of anger inside me. My life was not going to end because some crazy woman didn’t want to lose a statue. Eric and Christine were not going to have both parents die on the Isle of Glenroth. I was not going down without a fight.
Penny stepped closer, snarling with rage.
Wedging my back against the wall, I put my feet on Charlie’s back, and pushed hard.
The statue tipped.
“Whaa—?” Penny fell backward, twisting out of the way as the statue landed with a boom and a crash of splinters. The gun went off. Sparks flew as the bullet severed one of the chains holding the Esso sign.
The sign swung like a pendulum into Penny’s head. I heard a sickening crunch.
Everything happened at once.
An enormous dark shape careened into Penny on the floor. Strong arms scooped me up. Tom? As we rushed for the door, I caught a final glimpse of Penny, howling like a banshee, her head gushing blood. Standing over her, holding the gun, was—Jackie MacDonald?
Tom swept me outside. “Thank God, Kate. Thank God.” The faint woodsy scent of his cologne was utterly sweet. He kissed me, and I felt tears, whether his or mine I couldn’t tell.
Lights flashed. A siren screamed. Devlin’s black Peugeot skidded to a stop, followed by two police cars and an emergency response vehicle. Someone clamped an oxygen mask over my face and I let them do it, thinking how nice it would be to sleep in Tom’s arms.
Not yet.
I lifted the mask, feeling a jolt of pain. “Check on the Guthries. I’ll explain later.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tom sat with me in the Accident & Emergency ward at the hospital on Skye. The place bustled with activity. Computer displays flashed. Nursing sisters scurried in and out, yanking curtains open and closing them again. From somewhere in the distance, a baby cried inconsolably.
My cubicle smelled like disinfectant. I thought of Bo. A nurse had cleaned blood from my face and hands, leaving the damp cloth in a kidney-shaped pan. A splinter from the wooden statue of Bonnie Prince Charlie had grazed the fleshy part of my right arm. A doctor had cleaned the wound, immobilized my arm, and given me a shot for pain. As soon as he signed the release papers, we could leave.
Tom blinked once and took a breath. “Seeing Penny with that gun, Kate, knowing there was nothing I could do that wouldn’t put your life in further jeopardy … I couldn’t have saved you. Thank God you had the presence of mind to do what you did.”
More desperation than presence of mind, but why refuse a compliment?
He took my good hand and kissed it. “Fearless Kate.”
I shook my head. “A long way from fearless.”
“All right, then. If crazy women with guns don’t frighten you, what does?”
“Heights. I have a fear of heights. And spiders.”
He laughed.
A head appeared around the privacy curtain. Rob Devlin held a bouquet. He stood at the foot of my bed looking sheepish. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. What happened to Penny and Hugh Guthrie?”
“Haven’t heard about Guthrie yet. Miss Arnott was transported to the district hospital in Inverness. She suffered multiple cuts, a concussion, and a pretty deep gash on her head. She should make a full recovery, physically anyway.”
“And Cilla?”
“We sent a female constable. She called in to report they were drinking tea and looking at scrapbooks.” He held out the bouquet. “I hate to admit it, Mrs. Hamilton, but you were a step ahead of us the whole time.” He tossed Tom a set of keys. “Your car’s in the lot. Near the kiosk.” Then he pulled an envelope from inside his jacket and handed it to Tom. “I think you’ll both find this of interest.”
“What’s in the envelope?” I asked when Devlin had gone.
“Something to read on the ride home.”
“I just remembered. What was Jackie MacDonald doing at the Historical Society?”
“When you didn’t show up for dinner,” Tom said, “Frank and I went to search. Jackie met us on the road and insisted on coming along. We thought Guthrie was the killer. You can’t imagine our shock when we saw Penny with that gun.”
“Oh, I think I can.”
“When the statue fell, Jackie dove for Penny. In case she tried to get off another shot. I just wanted to get you out of there.”
“Penny’s sturdy. I’ll say that for her.” I laughed and winced. The pain shot was wearing off. “She survived Charlie, the Esso sign, and Jackie MacDonald.”
“Don’t sell Jackie short. Under that bulk is the body of an athlete.” We were silent for a moment. “You shouldn’t have gone alone, Kate. Why didn’t you call me?”
I told him everything.
“I didn’t want to believe it, Tom. It made me sick. But once I figured out Elenor’s affair with your father, I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that you’d returned to the island to take revenge.”
“Not revenge. Setting things right. I’d decided to confront Elenor. Figured she should take responsibility for what the affair did to our family. I never got the chance.”
“And then you were always hanging around. I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Couldn’t you, indeed?” He gave me that half smile.
“Why were you reading up on island history?”
“Oh, that. My father’s mother was a Maxwell, one of the Lowland families who came to Glenroth with James Arnott. I was curious.”
“And what is going on with you and Sofia? Why were you at the Lodge the night Agnes was killed?”
“Sofia’s here illegally, Kate. She came on a temporary work permit fifteen years ago and never left. She told me the night of the b
all. She’s been terrified that the new owners of the hotel—or the police—would look into her background and deport her. I’ve been working with Devlin on her behalf. I went to the Lodge to give her the good news.”
“That she won’t have to return to Bulgaria?”
“She can stay, perhaps permanently. As a member of the Romani community, she can claim persecution.” He stood. “I’m going to see about breaking you out of here. Nancy’s got food ready at the hotel, along with plenty of questions.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
I sat with Tom and the remaining hotel staff at the oak table in the hotel kitchen. A turf fire simmered in the hearth. I was going to miss that toasty smell and the bone-warming heat.
Frank had propped the portrait of Flora Arnott on the counter, along with the red-and-white pieced quilt. Nancy served hot, sweet tea and a buttery round of shortbread. I broke off a massive wedge and tucked in. Tomorrow I’d regret the calories. Tonight I didn’t care.
While Tom and I were at the hospital, Frank had located the secret passageway and followed it down a narrow staircase to the cellar. From there the twins could come and go through a wooden bulkhead door concealed in the bushes. They’d been using the passageway for years, keeping the hinges well oiled so they could slip in and out silently.
“I’m sure that’s why Elenor was terrified as a child,” I said. “She must have seen one of the twins and thought it was the ghost of Flora Arnott.”
“There goes the legend,” Becca said.
“Oh, no. The legend just changes. Now it’s a story about a greedy father, an evil man, and a young woman who should have lived to write lots of diaries. It’s about a loyal friend and a child who never got the chance to live.”
“Do we know what’s happened to Hugh Guthrie?” Nancy asked.
“Devlin called on our way back from Skye,” Tom said. “Guthrie locked himself in his office with a bottle of whiskey and sleeping tablets. The police were about to break down the door when he came out. Stumbled out actually. He’d consumed a lot of whiskey but nothing else. He confessed to stealing the diary and passing it off as his own work.”