Thistles and Thieves

by Molly Macrae

  From her years as a public librarian, Janet was a strong adherent to the ten and five rule of customer service—smile and make eye contact with anyone within ten feet; warmly greet anyone within five. If Police Scotland went in for the rule, these two hadn’t yet internalized it. Hobbs, stodgy porridge though he might be, always had a pleasant way of dealing with the public. But maybe she’d judged the young duo too quickly. When they finished their perusal of the shop, for whatever it told them, and approached the counter, Janet threw the rule’s ten and five feet together into one, welcoming go. She made eye contact, smiled, and greeted them warmly. The duo returned only the eye contact.

  “We’re looking for Janet Marsh,” said the female—S. Carmichael, according to her name badge.

  “Do you know where we can find her?” the male—F. Macleod—asked.

  “And who might you be?” Janet asked, eyes still making contact, smile still in place. Neither of them answered. She felt her warmth ebbing, and although she hadn’t originally thought of offering them tea, she decided now she might have, but wouldn’t.

  Tallie returned, then, with Rab in tow. While Rab took a detour to look at Ranger and Christine, Tallie came behind the counter to stand beside her mother and offer her own warm greeting to Carmichael and Macleod. Janet enjoyed the visual of mother and daughter standing shoulder to shoulder across the counter from the police, the more so because she and Tallie were also a similar height. She felt certain that if she asked Tallie about it later, Tallie would have noticed. She didn’t think the duo across from them would be amused.

  The napper’s comfort must have satisfied Rab and suggested his own. He came behind the counter, moved the stool closer to the back counter, sat, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned an elbow on the counter behind.

  “I’ll watch the till, shall I?” he said.

  S. Carmichael’s eyes, having followed the bookshop staff and their various maneuvers, settled their focus on Tallie. “Ms. Marsh?”

  Tallie acknowledged that with a nod and a “Yes?”

  “Is there a place we can speak to you away from the public?”

  “Sure. The office is right here.”

  “We only need to speak with Ms. Marsh,” F. Macleod said when Tallie and Janet both started for the office.

  “Aye, I know,” Janet said with a smile over her shoulder and without slowing.

  Carmichael and Macleod hurried after them. Macleod closed the door.

  “We’re Ms. Marsh and Ms. Marsh,” Janet said apologetically. She was beginning to feel sorry for Macleod. He looked less like a policeman and more like a newly minted schoolteacher not used to unruly pupils. “This is my daughter, Tallie. I’m Janet Marsh. Would you like to sit?”

  She offered the two desk chairs. The officers remained standing.

  “Sorry for the confusion,” Tallie said, hiking herself up to sit on the desk next to the box of foundling books. “But you didn’t specify.”

  “We specifically asked for Janet Marsh when we came into the shop,” Carmichael said.

  “Oh my goodness no,” Janet said, pouring on the warm, fuzzy, and slightly condescending. “You didn’t ask. You said you were looking for Janet Marsh, but when I asked who you were you didn’t identify yourselves or tell me why you’re here. I assume you’re from the Road Policing Unit of Police Scotland, but I don’t know that, so what was I to think?”

  “We’re here concerning the road accident involving Mr. Malcolm Murray on Sunday last,” Macleod said.

  They produced their warrant cards. S. Carmichael and F. Macleod were Sandra and Fergus.

  The names suited them, Janet decided, and their awkwardness was growing on her. She wanted to say, Now was that really so hard? But there was no point in turning awkward into antagonized. Or more antagonized, if she’d misread the awkward.

  “Thank you,” she said, as warmly as she’d first welcomed them. “Now, how’s your investigation going, and how can I help you?”

  Rather than answer, Sandra Carmichael pulled out a notebook and read from it. “According to the report filed by P. C. Hobbs, you saw Mr. Murray’s body from the bridge—”

  “I didn’t know it was a body, at the time, and I didn’t know it was Dr. Murray. I’d never met him.” And darn it, why didn’t I write down my list of questions? “You do know he was a doctor, don’t you, and quite well-thought-of in Inversgail?”

  “If you’ll let me finish,” Carmichael said.

  “Of course. And I know perfectly well you must know who Malcolm Murray was. But you do want my impressions as the first person on the scene, don’t you? Because it didn’t look right, even from the bridge. I saw the bike in the thistles and then his arm in the water. So I went down to see if he needed help. He didn’t. It looked like a sad, lonely way to die, although maybe he died doing what he liked. Presuming he liked riding his bike and eating haggis. Why do you suppose he wore a tweed jacket and trousers for riding that kind of distance? Too warm and a bit fussy, I’d have thought.” She knew she was blethering like a caffeinated Christine, but the memory of finding Malcolm Murray dead had rattled her. “Have you found out what happened?”

  “The investigation is ongoing,” Macleod said.

  “The tire ruts at the side of the road,” Janet said.

  “What about them?” Carmichael asked.

  “Given the right conditions, can you read them like, well, like animal tracks? For instance, can you tell, from a set of tracks or ruts if a car stood in one place for a time or if it just sort of veered onto the verge and then back onto the road again without stopping?”

  “What information do you have?” Carmichael asked.

  “About tire tracks and ruts in general? Oh no, I see! You mean specifically about the ruts beside the road at the Beaton Bridge.” Janet shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anything specific at all. I’m just curious in general.”

  “Did you pick up or move anything?” Carmichael said.

  “Where? What sort of thing?” Janet asked.

  “At any time from the point you stopped on the bridge until P. C. Hobbs arrived,” Macleod said.

  “Or after,” said Carmichael. “If he didn’t notice you doing so or didn’t put it in his report.”

  “I haven’t read his report,” Janet said.

  “So you did pick something up?” Macleod asked.

  “No. I’m just trying to help, which would be easier if I knew what you’re looking for and why.”

  “She’s big on knowing why,” Tallie said to the officers. “But, Mom? It probably isn’t the time for that.”

  “Ah. I see.” Janet looked at Carmichael. “Just the facts, ma’am?”

  Carmichael’s expression didn’t change. A pity, Janet thought, but she’s probably too young for Dragnet references.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, then,” Janet continued. “I felt for a pulse, but tried not to touch or move anything, and I don’t remember picking anything up.”

  “We should warn you that we expect full and honest cooperation,” Macleod said.

  “That sounds ominous and official. Do you—”

  “Mom?” Tallie interrupted.

  “Sorry, dear.” Janet turned back to the two officers. “I am sorry for running on. Honestly, it’s just nerves. I do wonder one more thing, though.”

  “What’s that, Ms. Marsh?”

  “It hasn’t even been thirty-six hours since I found Dr. Murray, and less than that since you started your investigation. I want you to know I realize that. But if your question about moving or picking something up—or the answer to it—is important or integral to making a determination as to what happened, then why didn’t you come ask me sooner? Or does that gap in time indicate new information and the investigation moving in a new direction?”

  “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Marsh,” Carmichael said without answering Janet’s question. Macleod apparently had nothing to add, either. The two left, and Janet turned to Tallie.

&
nbsp; “Did I come on too strong at the end?” Janet asked. “Was I too officious?”

  “A tad,” Tallie said, “but I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “They aren’t exactly chummy, are they? And it was a waste of time, frankly. They wouldn’t answer my questions and they didn’t like my answer to theirs. I did get the feeling, though, that Sandra hoped I had found or moved something, and thought I really might have but had decided not to tell them. Also, that they didn’t need my answer anyway.”

  “That’s a fairly involved and complicated feeling to come away with,” Tallie said. “I hope, for your sake, it isn’t true. You probably don’t want cranky road police out there waiting for a missed turn signal or a faulty taillight.”

  “I don’t imagine they’re vindictive like that. I’m sure that only happens in the movies, or Chicago. But didn’t you get the feeling they were disappointed when they left?”

  “They were hard to read,” Tallie said. “When I went to get Rab, he said in his very quiet way that he recognized them, even from behind. He’s seen them off the clock, and off their patch, in a pub in Dornie. They’re seeing each other and trying hard to keep it a secret until one or the other can get a transfer.”

  “That was rather a lot to tell you between the tearoom and book counter.”

  “He’s the Jeeves of Inversgail and Dornie,” Tallie said.

  “Oh, but now I hope we don’t see them again, because I’ll never be able to keep myself from saying something. If they’re working so hard at keeping that a secret, though, I wonder if they’re at the top of their game on the investigation?”

  “The ongoing investigation,” Tallie said.

  “True. So how long do you think an investigation like this typically takes?”

  “It might not be officially closed until autopsy results are available.”

  “That implies waiting. Sandra and Fergus weren’t waiting. They were here asking questions.”

  “Actually, just that specific question,” Tallie said.

  “And that implies there’s a hole or a gap in the information they’ve collected. A hole or a gap that’s keeping them from closing the investigation. What’s missing that could be so important?”

  “Norman said they’d be dotting is and crossing ts if they came. That really might be all they’re doing.”

  “But what item is small enough that Norman wouldn’t notice me pick it up, and presumably take away with me—?”

  “Or toss in the nearest bin,” Tallie said, “if you’d only picked it up because you’re keen on a green Scotland.”

  “What could I move, again without Norman noticing—unless I did either of those things before he arrived? But why would I do any of those things? It does leave one wondering what needs dotting and crossing.”

  “And you love to wonder as much as you love to ask why.”

  “I do. So I’d been wondering about their is and ts in general. The way I’ve been wondering about tire tracks in general. But now I’m wondering about a specific set of is and ts—two of each. They’re in the word ‘intentional,’ and I wonder how long before the Road Policing Unit will feel confident enough about those is and ts to issue their official statement using it?”

  The two cyclists Janet and Christine had met at Nev’s the night before came in toward the end of the day—the lean whippet and the other who hadn’t provided an easy comparison. Today she made it easy. She wore the cornflower blue tunic, marked with the National Health Service Scotland insignia, and navy trousers of a district nurse.

  “Nice to see you again,” Janet said when they came to the counter. “Lynsey and Isla, isn’t it?

  “Guilty,” Isla said.

  Janet thought Isla’s smile and tone might be considered mocking, but as a new businesswoman in town—and the incomer who might be highly suspect—she decided not to rise to the bait. “What can I do for you?”

  “We wondered if you were serious about coming for a ride with us,” Isla said, “or just being a polite American.”

  “Isla.” Lynsey shook her head. “Don’t mind her. We’ll meet at the Stevenson statue in the morning. Rhona’s coming along. You should come. Nothing strenuous.”

  “I’d love to. What time?”

  “Will eight suit?” Lynsey asked.

  “It gives the sun time to stick its lazy head over the horizon and us a short ride before work,” Isla said.

  “Cancelled if it’s bucketing down,” Lynsey said. “But no need to phone.”

  “Or no need to show up at all,” said Isla.

  Janet knew a dare when she heard one. “I’ll see you at eight.”

  Christine woke up from her nap as Janet called goodbye to the last customer and Tallie locked the door. Christine looked askance at Ranger, who’d been snoring quite loudly. He woke up, too, shook himself, shook his tea towel, and took it with him to find Rab.

  “Where’s that book I was reading?” Christine asked. “Something about lighthouses with recipes for peppers. And why did you let me fall asleep? Actually—” She might have given herself a mental version of Ranger’s wakeup shake. “Actually, thank you for letting me sleep. I needed it. I just hope I didn’t snore like the dog. But where is that book?”

  “Which do you want, the lighthouse or the peppers?” Janet asked. “They’re different books.”

  “Peppers,” Christine said. “More practical.”

  “It’s The Complete Herbal by a Dr. Culpeper, so not really a cookery book,” Janet said. “It’s fascinating, though, with notes in the margins from people who used it. Culpeper published it in the 1600s. This one’s from 1850 and feeling its age.”

  “Like so many of us.”

  “It isn’t a goner, though. Treat it with the same care you do your mum. In fact, why don’t you take it home and bring it back in the morning. She might like to see it. Perk her up a bit.”

  Christine’s mother was a former district nurse and avid gardener. “It might, at that,” she said. “Now, I should let you get on with your closing up and go help Summer with ours.”

  “All done,” Summer said, entering from the tearoom. “Rab helped and then shimmered away.”

  “And . . . done here, too,” Tallie said.

  “Good. Then if you have time, I want to talk something through. I want some perspective,” Christine said.

  Janet and Tallie each shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”

  “If your perspective won’t take long,” Summer said. “Date with the darts.”

  “Good,” Christine said again. “First, have you heard much talk about Malcolm’s death in Yon Bonnie?”

  “Aside from Ian yesterday and Norman this morning, no,” Janet said. She looked at Tallie.

  “Accurate,” Tallie said.

  “It’s been different in Cakes and Tales,” Summer said. “Tea and shortbread make people chatty.”

  “Accurate,” Christine said, “to borrow Tallie’s excellent summary. The words I kept hearing over these two days were ‘shock’ and ‘blow.’ It’s a terrible shock. It’s a terrible blow.”

  “So ‘terrible’ is another word you kept hearing,” Tallie said.

  Christine shot a finger at her. “Accurate. But we didn’t hear anything else.”

  “What else do you want to hear?” Tallie asked.

  “I asked you that last night at Nev’s,” Janet reminded her.

  “But now I have a better answer,” Christine said. “Florrie says she won’t mourn Malcolm. We don’t hear anything like that from anyone else. I want to know why. Something must have happened. You felt that, didn’t you, Janet?”

  “I felt it between my shoulder blades when we stood at the door. She looked right through me at something else. Not something behind me, something way far off. I don’t think it was anything I could see. Maybe nothing I’d want to see. Did I tell you I went past the house on my bike ride this morning?”

  “Did you? I drove past.”

  “What did you think?” Janet asked.

&nbs
p; “It was quiet. But not tranquil quiet. Watched or watching quiet. A quiet that implies something. Am I making any sense?”

  “You are, but for the life of me, I can’t explain what it means.”

  “Neither can I. And I might be obsessing,” Christine said, “but I want to help the girl I used to know.”

  “How do you see that as obsessing?” Summer asked.

  “Obsessing might not be the right word. It could be that I’m atoning. Atoning for separating myself so completely from friends for thirty years. Turning my back.”

  “You and Tony came back here most summers,” Janet said. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “I want to know why this woman is behaving the way she is, and to do that, I want to get inside her head.”

  “Did getting inside her house help?” Tallie asked.

  “It helped to put it into my head.”

  They’d been standing in a close group in front of the bookshop’s sales counter, in full view of the front door. They all startled when someone rapped on the door.

  “Norman,” Janet said. “I think he’s heard something.”

  10

  Constable Hobbs thanked Tallie for letting him in and then he greeted the other women. “But you look as though you were having a meeting. I don’t mean to interrupt.”

  “What is it, Norman?” Christine asked.

  “I just wondered if you’ve learned any more about the books you found this morning.”

  Christine said, “Oh, for—” but got no further before Summer put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something. Christine subsided.

  Janet was more interested in the whisper and subsidence than Hobbs’s question, so Tallie answered. “Nothing yet,” she said.

  “But I did tell you that I’d let you know,” Janet said, playing catch-up.

  “And I know you will. I might have a lead on them for you. I took the liberty of asking at Young’s if they knew of anyone buying Dalwhinnie by the case. It’s a Dalwhinnie box the books arrived in.”