Be Still My Bleating Heart (A Scottish Highland Mystery Book 4)

by Hannah Reed

  The inspector interjected. “That was one o’ my questions tae her. She says he was a regular customer, browsing more than buying, and occasionally requested readings and such. Dallas didn’t mind since the events brought in customers. Their relationship was, as she put it, formally friendly.”

  Vicki nodded. “Dallas is a business owner and because of that she’s cordial with everyone.”

  Which brought us to Morag Lisle, Dallas’ last-minute guest.

  “I did a wee bit o’ lookin’ intae her situation,” Sean said.

  “Ye were supposed tae be hunting fer a robber,” the inspector pointed out, his tone lighter than his usual confrontational one with his officer.

  Sean hesitated then plunged on. “It was in that line o’ inquiry. Up and down Laurel Crescent I went, poundin’ on doors, asking questions. Nobody saw the robbery, but the woman renting a room tae her says she’s only arrived from Edinburgh, something aboot a divorce and needing time tae herself. Friendly enough, always talking books, even had mentioned the supper and seemed excited.”

  “That fits with the Morag I met,” I said. “Plus, she has a solid alibi, poor woman. She’s a visitor on vacation plunged into the thick of things. What about Derrick and Brenda Findlay, Inspector?”

  He rearranged his leg, which was perched on a lawn chair that Sean had brought in from outside. He adjusted the icepack I’d insisted that he place on his ankle. “Alibiing each other, they are.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time a spouse covered fer the other,” Sean acknowledged.

  My thought exactly. Either trouble had found him outside where he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a theory we’d all but dismissed, or someone from the group had killed him. Emotions had been running high at the supper table. Even as an observing guest, I’d felt anxious and uncomfortable. The married couple might be protecting one another for a reason.

  I remembered information the doctor had supplied. “Dr. Teague told us that Derrick had warned Stuart about his behavior on a prior occasion. And he’d asked Stuart to stay behind after the supper. He could have asked Stuart to leave the club.”

  “And it would have been about time,” Vicki exclaimed. “Stuart brought bad karma to the meetings.”

  “Did Derrick throw him out then?” Sean said to Jamieson. “Did Findlay tell ye about it during questioning?”

  “He didn’t mention anything about that when we questioned him after the murder. In fact, he went on about how fine Stuart’s reading o’ Scott’s work had been, and what a tragedy his death would be fer the community.”

  Snookie chose that moment to leap into Jamieson’s lap. I expected him to promptly deposit the cat back on the floor. Instead, to my surprise, he began stroking her. She settled, closed her eyes, and began purring. The inspector was turning out to be a complicated man. Tough one minute, cuddling a cat the next.

  I stared at his hand as he continued to pet Snookie. Something about them brought back the dream. What was it about hands?

  “How do the Findlay’s make a living?” Vicki asked, bringing my attention back to the moment. “They have a lovely place.”

  Jamieson responded, “A small accounting service out o’ their home, taxes and such.”

  Vicki seemed to be wondering out loud, “If Derrick informed Stuart that he was no longer welcome, imagine how he might have reacted.”

  “Based on his behavior at the table, not well,” I guessed, remembering how quickly the situation had escalated. “He brandished that knife, upsetting both of the Findlays, then he made a veiled threat to Dr. Teague.”

  Jamieson had been displaying signs of restlessness, shifting in his chair, toying with the ice pack. “Officer Stevens,” he said, grabbing the crutches and rising, “find out as much as ye can about Stuart McKay. We already found next o’ kin, a sister living in Sterling, and I’ve spoken with her, broke the bad news. Nothing tae help us on that front. They spoke several times every year, but not recently, and she didn’t have any idea as tae who might have wanted to murder her brother.

  “Concentrate on his retirement, then on his move tae Glenkillen. If there is a connection between him and anyone at that supper other than through the club, find it!”

  Sean was making notes as the inspector turned and spoke to me, the crutches secured under his arms, “Constable Elliott, we need tae pay a visit tae the Findlays.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, and Stevens, hand over yer handcuffs tae our special constable. Ye can stop at the station and get yerself another pair.”

  “Yer giving her handcuffs?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, look at yerself,” Sean said to me, handing his over. “Yer almost a proper cop. All ye need is a baton to make it official.”

  I laughed. “No baton for me. I’ll call you if I need that kind of backup.”

  Outside, driving away, the inspector said, “There. Are ye happy? I gave the lad an important task.”

  I smiled. “You already researched Stuart’s background thoroughly, didn’t you?”

  That drew a chuckle. “Yer ontae me again.”

  “You’re becoming predictable.”

  On the way, after calling and confirming that the Findlays were home and willing to speak with us, he filled me in on Stuart’s past. “McKay appeared tae be a difficult man tae live with. Three ex-wives, all in Edinburgh, several grown children scattered here and there.”

  “Any of them near here?”

  “No, and none o’ the family interested in chumming with dear old dad. While ye were getting yer beauty sleep this morning, I spoke with the exes and his offspring. No love lost, but no big life insurance payouts tae fight over either. If one o’ the exes had murder on her mind, she most likely would o’ taken care o’ him earlier on. Each o’ them claims tae have those who can vouch fer them, and Officer Steven’s next project will be confirming alibies. That is, if the lad manages tae report accurately on the information I’ve already gathered.”

  “You’re testing him?”

  “Aye, as tae McKay’s career before he retired three years ago and moved tae Glenkillen, McKay was a professor o’ Scottish history in Edinburgh. He didn’t exactly distinguish himself, but he retired in good graces.”

  “Morag is from Edinburgh,” I pointed out.

  “It’s a big city. Practically everyone who comes tae visit or stay is from Edinburgh or Glasgow, escaping the big cities.”

  We stepped out of the car on the street below the Findlay home. My eyes involuntarily landed on the spot where Stuart’s body had been found, at the very bottom of the path leading to the house belonging to Brenda and Derrick. A large elm beside the curb that I’d barely noticed the night before would have shielded the attack from view on the dead-end side of the lane. But the side where the taxi driver had spotted the body was exposed. Gone was the tent, the remains, forensic specialist and police, but the street had a grim, tragic feel to it.

  I followed the inspector, noting that he was getting better at maneuvering on the crutches.

  Inside the Findlay’s living room, Derrick gestured for us to sit on a tan leather sofa, and he and Brenda positioned themselves in matching armchairs facing us. After a few forced pleasantries, including questions regarding Jamieson’s injury, which he briskly brushed off, the inspector came to the point. “Our job is tae establish the innocence o’ as many o’ you as possible and tae that end, we have a few more questions regarding the night o’ the murder.”

  “We will help in any way we can.” Brenda reached over to the arm of the other chair and patted her husband’s hand. “We have nothing tae hide.”

  “Very well. Ye said Stuart left approximately at ten o’clock.”

  “That’s about right, yes.” Brenda removed her hand and folded both of them in her lap. “I still can’t believe this happened. That someone attacked Stuart the moment he left our home.”

  “I hold myself somewhat responsible fer not walking him out,” Derrick said. “I might have
prevented his death.”

  “Ye can’t blame yerself,” his wife said mournfully. “Why, ye might both be dead if ye had.”

  The inspector steered them back to his own agenda, “What was his mood when he left? I didn’t think tae ask ye earlier.”

  “His mood?” Brenda said, pausing to consider. “Perfectly fine.” Then she looked to her husband. “Derrick, don’t ye agree?”

  Derrick nodded vigorously. “He’d gotten the best of the doctor and seemed delighted with that. And he performed brilliantly fer those of us at the table after enjoying a good meal and a nightcap. As fit as a butcher’s dog, I’d say.”

  “Yet ye’d just informed him that he was no longer welcome at the Scott Suppers?”

  The inspector was fishing, of course, hoping to land the truth. But he did sound convincing, as though he knew that for a fact.

  Derrick seemed to take the question in stride. “But ye see, I didn’t. After his aggressive manner toward Dr. Teague, we thought it best tae try a different approach tae the issue at another time.”

  “Aye,” Brenda agreed. “The gathering was filled with enough tension without creating any more. Really, Derrick regretted the invitation tae him tae stay fer a nightcap. We’d had enough of Stuart fer one evening, so we sent him on his way as quickly as we could.”

  “We dislike speaking ill of the dead,” Derrick added.

  “He practically threatened the doctor with his knife,” I spoke up for the first time. “Over something as simple as a literary disagreement. I can understand your concern for your safety.”

  “Thank you,” Brenda said with relief. “We were afraid tae tell ye about our decision tae remove him in case ye thought Derrick had murdered him. We should of known it would come out and should have been more forthcoming from the beginning.”

  “Derrick,” I pressed on, “did you have the authority to remove Stuart? After all, Dallas is the president.”

  The inspector’s eyes met mine. Was that a glimmer of respect in those piercing blues? Had I just asked a question he hadn’t thought of?

  Derrick raised his chin. “As vice president, I felt perfectly justified. I tried to discuss it with Dallas after the prior meeting, and she wouldn’t even consider it. I decided it was best to proceed without consulting her. I’d confided in the doctor and had his support. It’s a moot point anyway, since it didn’t happen and now Stuart is dead.”

  Brenda stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. “Like we said, we were together cleaning up the dishes when we heard a commotion outside. By then it was too late. He had been found and the police called.”

  “And you didn’t hear anything unusual right after he left?” I continued since the inspector seemed content to let me lead. “No raised voices? Screams? Anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you have your own theory?”

  “We have two ideas,” Brenda answered. “But you’ve probably already thought of them.”

  “Tell us.”

  “It could have been a random attack by that robber, and Stuart put up a fight where those female pensioners didn’t have the strength tae resist, and he was stabbed tae death fer his trouble. Or…” Brenda hesitated.

  “Or…,” I prompted.

  Brenda glanced at Derrick. “Or he’d pushed Dr. Teague too far, and the doctor killed him in a fit of rage.”

  Derrick nodded along, indicating that the couple had discussed and agreed on their shared opinions.

  Later, on the road to the inspector’s home to meet Sean for a ride home, Jamieson said, “Derrick and Brenda Findlay are one mind in two bodies.”

  “Talk about bonded in holy matrimony,” I agreed.

  If either of them had murdered Stuart, the other might have helped cover it up, the couple united in their shared belief that Stuart McKay had been ultimately responsible for his own demise. Stuart never should have waved a weapon around at the private gathering. It very well could have been the catalyst for his death.

  I still couldn’t believe that the village doctor had picked up a knife and used it to harm another human being. I wanted other suspects, someone else to have committed the murder.

  And the Findlays were as likely as Teague.

  Chapter 8

  The hike from my cottage to the moors behind and beyond the farm helped to relieve the stress I carried with me from what had been a very difficult day. Purple heather painted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and its sweet scent drifted up from the sprawling carpet. I heard the hum of busy bees, gathering the heather’s sweet nectar while I stood looking at the sweeping valley below and rugged mountains to the north. I remained entranced, feeling the wind in my hair, for an indeterminate period of time before I turned to retrace my steps.

  Only then did I notice a man with a familiar gait approaching, a sheepdog at his side.

  “There’s a Heilan coo over the ridge,” Leith said, stopping beside me. He wore well-worn jeans, hiking boots, and a lazy, carefree grin. “I’ve made friends with that one. Come on, let me show you.”

  Heilan coos, also known as Highland cows, reminded me of teddy bears with their wavy wooly coats. I broke out in a wide smile at the opportunity to see one close up.

  Leith was as handsome as ever, with his sandy blond hair and deep tan from hours spent in his boat on the sea. I couldn’t help admiring his physique; this male that kept my fictional hero in sharp focus. “You’re in from fishing before dark,” I noted, rather surprised to see him. And rather pleased, too. Leith’s casual manner always put me at ease.

  “Aye, a storm is brewing on the sea.”

  I crouched to pet Kelly, her tail wagging like mad. She’s twelve years old, suffers from arthritis, and cataracts impair her vision. But she’s the grande dame of these moorlands, having produced many of the young, talented herding dogs that work the hills today.

  We walked over the ridge Leith indicated to find a brindled cow, with long curving horns. It stood perfectly still, staring at us, not twenty yards away.

  “A bonnie sight,” Leith said after reminding Kelly to stay at his side with a hand motion, her cue to refrain from engaging her herding instincts. “’Tis breeding season, and she’s going tae do her part soon enough to grow the fold.”

  “She?” I wasn’t going to attempt to peek under all that thick wool for a gender assessment.

  “The horns are the clue,” he informed me with a twinkle in his eye. “The male’s curve forward and are thicker. This one’s curve up. That’s the difference.” He dug two cookies from a pocket in his fleece. “Let’s see if she’s hungry fer a ginger cookie.”

  I retreated a few steps. “I’m not going anywhere near those horns. Besides, she must weigh a thousand pounds!”

  Leith laughed. “Our coos are the friendliest in the world and very inquisitive. See, here she comes.”

  Sure enough, the beast lumbered toward us.

  Leith had that big, teasing grin on his face as he strutted to meet her. I tagged along behind him, careful to keep his body between me and the massive beast. “Come on, take the bull by the horns,” he quipped, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me forward. “Or in this case, the cow. Here,” he thrust a cookie into my hand. “You go first.”

  “No way.” I pulled back. “You do it.”

  He shook his head in mock disbelief at my cowardliness then focused on his hairy friend. She took the offered cookie gently and munched. “Your turn and give her a little pat or two while yer at it.”

  Since Leith’s fingers were still attached to his hand, and he hadn’t been trampled to a bloody pulp, I mimicked his moves, offered the cookie as he had, and watched her chew it. I even rubbed her nose and pulled back her flowing wool to gaze into her eyes. “She’s so cute.”

  “Aye. But we better head back.” Leith was studying the sky. “Those storm clouds are moving in fast.”

  In the distance, lightening flashed. Kelly, sensing our decision, trotted slightly ahead as we returned to the farm. Vi
cki and Sean peeked out the window at the main house as we passed. Vicki gave a wave and what I thought was a wink as the sky above opened and rain began to fall. We ran past Leith’s Land Rover and made it inside with not a moment to spare before the deluge.

  Snookie greeted Kelly, going nose to nose, a routine they’d established the day they met. First the noses sniffed cautiously, then a tail wag from one, a light purr from the other.

  “It worked out fer the best then?” Leith said, referring to my initial reluctance to adopt the Scottish fold.

  “I couldn’t imagine my life without her,” I answered, realizing the truth of it as I took a seat in one of two armchairs beside the wood burning stove in the corner. Leith started a fire and joined me while Kelly stretched out to enjoy the warmth and Snookie watched from a perch on the end table.

  “I hear that the village is goin’ through a rough patch,” he said. “And yer in the thick of it again.”

  I nodded. “Not only is a car thief terrorizing the community, but Stuart McKay was murdered right after a supper I attended.”

  I went on to relate details of the Scott Supper and its aftermath. “The inspector wants us to focus our efforts on the club members.” I couldn’t tell him that Dr. Teague was the frontrunning suspect since I was part of the investigation and privy to information not available to others. Leith and even Vicki had to remain outside the loop.

  “It’s good that ye and Vicki have solid alibis,” Leith said. “Having Sean to vouch fer the two o’ you is good fortune. Ye can check off Dallas Irving as well. She wouldn’t do a thing like that. The others I know little about.”

  “You know the doc.”

  “Never been tae his surgery.” Leith grinned. “I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

  The fire crackled. The heat radiating outward into the room warmed me. “What brought you to the moor?” I asked him after a comfortable silence.

  Leith slouched back in the chair and gazed at me. “I knocked at yer cottage. When ye didn’t answer, I inquired at the main house. Vicki pointed me in yer direction, saying ye needed cheering up after chasing a killer all day. She’s playin’ Cupid, I do believe, based on her sly manner. And Sean is right with her.”