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

by Hannah Reed

  “They’re large boys,” Vicki observed.

  “Aye, and so, due tae their incompetence, I didn’t know which direction was home and had no way to call for help. If it wasn’t fer the search crew, we would have been lost at sea indefinitely.”

  I gave Leith a huge hug.

  “Worried, were ye?” he whispered playfully in my ear, hugging me back.

  “Not a bit,” I said, lying as I released him. “I was told you are a superior sailor and would outlast the storm.” That part was true.

  “I told her ye’d make it,” Sean said, slightly braggy, standing next to Bragging Rights.

  “I’ve been out in worse.” Leith said while wrapping more lines snuggly. “But then I had assistance, not those bumbling mates.” He finished securing lines. “I need to go see Fia then get some sleep. And I’m cancelling fishing trips for the next few days.”

  With the Border collie in the lead, the four of us walked off the pier together, Sean a few steps behind, speaking on his phone. Vicki and Leith got into their respective vehicles and pulled away from the harbor. Sean met me at my car. “I gave the good news tae the inspector. He says ye should take the day tae do whatever ye like. He knows how much Cameron means tae ye.”

  “He’s a friend,” I muttered, wondering what Jamieson believed was going on between the two of us.

  But Sean didn’t hear and went on, “Me? I’m tae report in.” He frowned in thought. “Not that there’ll be much tae do, what with both cases solved.”

  I gazed toward the dock, at the peaceful waves lapping at the shoreline, knowing one of the cases wasn’t quite finished. At least in my book.

  “Tell the inspector I still expect to have my day.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Just tell him.”

  I climbed into my car and leaned back against the headrest. Both cases were solved, according to two law officials who knew more than I did about solving crimes. The inspector was thorough and he’d passed judgement. Who was I to disagree?

  Yet, I couldn’t help thinking that nothing was completely resolved. Except Leith’s return. I was grateful for that, more than I could say.

  I intended to follow through with my plan to continue investigating.

  Regardless of today’s outcome, though, tomorrow would find me back at my favorite table at the Kilt & Thistle writing love scenes. It was time to return to my work. I’d had enough of murder and mayhem. I could do with a little love.

  Chapter 19

  Brenda opened the door when I rang the bell. She wasn’t as hospitable toward me as she’d been. The door didn’t swing wide, welcoming me in. This time, I wasn’t invited inside the Crannog Lane home where she’d hosted the fatal supper.

  “What do ye want now?” she asked from behind a partially closed door.

  “I was hoping to have a word with you.” I’d intended to ask her about her nursing career, but feared she’d slam the door in my face.

  “Do ye still believe that one of us killed Stuart and left the doctor tae take the rap? He’s been nicked fer the crime, a crime he must of committed.”

  “He’s incarcerated at the moment, yes.” I tried to peek past her. “Is Derrick inside?”

  “No, and that’s the reason I’m not allowing ye in. We stand together.”

  I nodded in understanding, well aware. “When will he return?”

  “I’m not sure.” Brenda began to close the door, then must have reconsidered because she pushed it open a bit more. “Do you know your Sir Walter Scott?”

  “Only a little.” I dredged up a quote. “Is death the last step? No, it is the final awakening.”

  I’d managed to elicit an expression of satisfaction. “Apropos,” she said, obviously obsessed with the Scottish writer. “To the timid and hesitating everything is impossible because it seems so.”

  “He was a deep thinker,” I agreed.

  Then her face changed quickly from pleasure to disapproval. “Ye know, Morag Lisle claims she went tae university fer English studies and especially fer Sir Walter Scott, yet she didn’t recognize a famous passage Derrick quoted. The schools aren’t doing a proper job of educating; not like they used tae.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll come back later,” I said. “But could you at least tell me if you know two names I’d like to pass by you?”

  “Doesn’t seem any harm in that.”

  “Lorna and Ivar Woodward.”

  Brenda paused in thought. “Woodward. The names don’t ring a bell. Are they from Glenkillen?”

  “Glasgow.”

  “She shook her head and said convincingly, “Never heard of them.”

  As I made my way along the sloping path to the lane, I recalled the conversation that Brenda had referred to.

  “Time will rust the sharpest sword,” Derrick had said. Morag and I had asked for clarification.

  I’d heard the quote before and had only been surprised with the reference since the topic had been Stuart’s murder and I didn’t understand what a Scott quote had to do with anything. In the same manner, Morag might have been startled and questioning the relevance.

  My next stop was Taste of Scotland where I purchased a dark chocolate cherry scone and a cream bun. These delicacies are better known in the United States as cream puffs. I wolfed down the scone with tea while sitting on a small café table outside of the shop. The cream bun would be a backup when hunger set in. Tomorrow, along with returning to my writing cave, I would consider healthier options.

  As I finished, Sean called my cell phone. “The inspector isn’t answering my calls.”

  That wasn’t anything new. “What’s up?”

  “Andy’s ready tae talk.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  *

  “You should speak to us with your lawyer present,” I advised Andy, who wasn’t quite as cocky and slouchy as last time we’d met at the interrogation table. I made the suggestion because I didn’t want Andy to claim coercion later.

  “I don’t have one really. It was a bluff.” He sat up straight. “I’m willing tae be honest about what I did in exchange fer leniency.”

  “Ye should have representation,” Sean said. “Yer facing prison time, leniency or no.”

  “I’m going to record this meeting,” I told Andy when he insisted on continuing without an attorney. I glanced at the recording unit I’d turned on when I’d entered the room, thinking ‘better late in informing him than never’.

  He nodded in assent, looking worried. “Just so we’re clear, I didn’t kill that bloke.”

  I shot a warning glance at Sean, remembering how he’d bullied Andy. “We don’t suspect you, Andy.”

  I’d already giving Sean the classic zipped-lip motion to keep Andy’s stories flowing without rude interruptions. He caught on, and so we listened quietly other than a prompt to continue here and there from me.

  Andy began with the first several robberies, detailing the crimes including the dates, times, locations, and descriptions of the victims and their cars. Everything fit with what we already knew. He also confirmed again that he had tossed their mobiles and purses once he’d helped himself to the contents.

  Eventually we got to Rhona Selkirk. “Then there was that blue-haired old lady. None o’ the others gave me any trouble, not with a knife pointed at them. But that one! The oldest of the bunch too. She got all cheeky and threatened me. Kicked me in the shin, she did. Wouldn’t stop pounding at me with those little fists until I picked her up and locked her in the boot. And tae top it off, she had nothing in her purse tae have bothered with. Same with most of them. All cards these days, even with the pensioners.”

  Andy Morris had just confirmed my original suspicion. He wasn’t the brightest of the bright. He’d robbed at knife point for a few pounds in cash and kept doing what didn’t work until he got caught.

  “What about Morag Lisle?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “The last one you robbed, later the same day, number two, the re
d-head with the grey Vauxhall Corsa.”

  “Shove off,” Andy said violently with curled lip, his personality turning to ugly. “I said I’d be straight with ye and I expected the same in return.”

  Puzzled by his reaction, I said, “You’ve cooperated until now. Why stop?”

  But Andy only glared. He stood up, kicking his chair away. “We’re done.”

  Sean rose also, his hand on the belt above his baton in case he needed it. “I’ll take ye back until ye can be civil like ye were before. Ye have an anger issue, ye do.”

  “Andy, sit down, please.” I had a pretty good idea what was going on. My heart was racing, whether from excitement or trepidation, I didn’t know. But I needed Andy to say the words. “If I have figured out something inaccurately, you need to correct me,” I told him. “The recorder is running. This is your chance. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Andy ignored the request to rejoin me at the table, but he leaned over and stared at the recorder. Then he spoke very precisely and carefully. “That crazy little lady was the last one. And I told meself so. I vowed tae retire from hitting up old ladies. I didn’t do anything more that day or any day since.”

  “Ye did it…” Sean began.

  I interrupted and rose. “Thank you for clearing that up, Andy. I’ll see what I can do to help you with a lighter sentence.” Then to Sean. “You can take him back to his cell now. And would you get me the address and contact information for Morag Lisle.” I thought a moment. “And for Rhona Selkirk also.”

  “Well, aren’t ye the boss lady all o’ a sudden.”

  “And find out what you can about Morag Lisle.”

  “Keep ye wig on. I only have two hands.”

  Chapter 20

  I don’t remember my legs carrying me out to my car. Deep in thought, I sat in the driver’s seat, staring sightlessly, my mind working overtime.

  Morag Lisle had lied about the robbery. She’d used it as an alibi, claiming she’d been in the trunk of her car for hours. We hadn’t questioned her statement. Not for a single moment. We’d assumed the event had occurred and moved on to other suspects. Exactly as she’d planned.

  But why would she do that? Either she had invented an alibi out of fear of being wrongly accused or she’d planned Stuart McKay’s murder as well as an escape route. It was a pretty elaborate scheme for an innocent suspect.

  But how could she have known about Andy stashing Rhona in the trunk if the same hadn’t happened to her? Morag and Rhona hadn’t met until later when Rhona accused Andy in the bar. And the local paper hadn’t printed about the latest attack, because that robbery had only occurred a few hours earlier.

  Wait.

  Morag had been at the bookstore with Dallas and Vicki.

  That must account for her knowing.

  I turned my thoughts back to that afternoon, sitting in the Kilt & Thistle. Sean had been about to pick up Vicki. The inspector arrived with news of another robbery, telling us about the victim being forced into the boot. I’d offered to drive Vicki home, and Sean said he’d let her know.

  From the car, I called Vicki. When she answered, I immediately asked, “When Sean called you the afternoon of the supper to tell you I’d be picking you up at the bookshop, did he tell you he was going to another robbery?”

  There was a slight hesitation on the other end before, “Hello to you, too.”

  “It’s important, Vicki.”

  “Let me think.” She sighed heavily. “Yes, Sean said he was on his way to the scene of another pensioner robbery.”

  “Did he also mention that the woman who owned the car had been locked in the boot?”

  “Yes, he did. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain later. This is time sensitive. And did you repeat that information to Dallas?”

  There was a pause.

  “It’s okay if you did. I just need to know.”

  “I believe I did tell her, since it was even more concerning than the others. Wielding a knife is bad enough, but then to lock an old woman up like that. I can’t imagine what she must have gone through.”

  “Who else heard you besides Dallas? Was Morag there, too?”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “Thanks. You’ve helped explain something that baffled me.”

  After reassuring her, reiterating that she’d done nothing wrong and that I would bring her up to date when I had more time, I disconnected.

  Then I put in a call to Morag’s mobile number. She didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message.

  Next, I tried Rhona’s home number as she didn’t own a mobile phone. A woman with a younger voice than Rhona’s answered.

  “She isn’t here,” she said.

  “And you are?”

  “Her daughter. Would you like tae leave a message?”

  “When do you expect her back?”

  “No idea. I went out fer a spell and she was gone when I got back. Her car is here so she must be with Morag, her new best friend. My mother is a free spirit. I can’t keep track of her.”

  I laughed politely. “That describes her perfectly.”

  I started the Peugeot and headed toward Laurel Crescent with the address for Morag supplied by Sean.

  A sense of foreboding rode along in the passenger seat beside me.

  It occurred to me on the way that I should contact the inspector and warn him of a potential situation. But I was still upset with him and told myself that Sean would fill him in as soon as he found him. Even though Sean believed that Andy had been lying, I knew he would give Jamieson the facts as he’d heard them. I’d also left the recording unit on the inspector’s desk requesting that he listen to the last few minutes first. He could then form his own opinion.

  In the meantime, I’d go on investigating one particular supper-goer, the last-minute Sir Walter Scott enthusiast.

  I pulled up beside a single-story, red brick bungalow with dormer windows. I climbed out and rang a bell on the door while surveying the street. There wasn’t any sign of Morag’s car. A hunched elderly woman answered.

  “I’m looking for Morag Lisle.”

  “And ye are?”

  I showed her my credentials. “You are smart to be wary of strangers. Always make sure they are who they say they are.” Then I recognized the irony of my statement. Who exactly was Morag Lisle? Had I asked for identification?

  “May I come in?” I asked.

  “Certainly.”

  She showed me into a small living space where I noted stairs on the left, leading up to a loft. “Would you like tea?” she asked.

  “No thank you. I don’t have much time.” I remained on my feet although she offered a chair.

  “Morag isn’t here. She left early.”

  “How long will she be staying with you?”

  “Until the investigation is over. She told me she was at the supper and is a suspect, as are the other guests. I had renters arriving yesterday, but I’ve had tae put them on hold. A very messy arrangement.”

  “Morag had planned to leave here yesterday?”

  “Originally, aye, going back tae Edinburgh.”

  I really didn’t know what to ask Morag’s landlady without arousing her suspicions about Morag, and that seemed premature. While I hesitated, she said, “Would ye like tae see her room? It’s above, in the loft.”

  I tried not to appear surprised by her offer. I managed to keep my voice neutral, “Yes, of course, that would be good.”

  “Yer wondering why I’d offer, and the reason is because yer here looking fer answers. If Morag has secrets, ye should know about them. We’re a small community and have tae look out fer each other. Go on. I’ll busy myself in the kitchen.”

  I climbed the steps slowly. I had the owner’s permission, making a search perfectly legal. At least, I assumed so. I stepped off onto the landing and glanced around the room. Everything was tidy and put away where it belonged. I opened each dresser drawer. All were empty except the top right drawer which contained intimate app
arel. The closet housed several tops on hangers and two pair of shoes on the floor neatly aligned.

  This tenant could pack up and be gone in a matter of minutes.

  I found a suitcase tucked under the bed, slid it out, and popped it open. Tucked at the very bottom under a stack of folded pants and more tops was a long blond wig and a hoodie.

  I’d discovered the identity of Poppy’s neighborhood lurker.

  Slamming down the steps, items in hand, I warned the landlady to phone me as soon as Morag arrived. “Please don’t tell her about my visit and place the call to me in private.”

  “I understand,” she said, staring at the wig and hoodie. “I had a feeling something was off with that woman. Too bad it didn’t strike me in the interview when she first applied. I usually can tell. She fooled me.”

  “She might have a perfectly sound explanation once I have a chance to interview her.” Which was one big lie. Morag was anything but innocent. But was she dangerous? I wasn’t sure.

  Before driving off, I called the inspector rather than wait for him to listen to the recording.

  He answered and I related the interview with Andy and my discovery in Morag’s room.

  “Anything back yet on the Woodward family members?” I asked.

  “Nothing yet. I’m two hours or so from Glenkillen. Don’t do anything rash before I get back.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I mean it, Eden.”

  I smiled. He hadn’t called me Eden in a long while. I liked it better than Constable Elliott, which was so formal and removed. Necessary though, for decorum. What was his given name? Kevin, I recalled. I couldn’t imagine calling him that.

  Actually, I felt a tremendous sense of relief. Jamieson could take over. I’d be his assistant, which was much less nerve racking. Besides, the man’s steel nerves were a source of comfort. “I’m waiting on you,” I assured him.

  And I meant it. I really did.

  Until I remembered my last conversation with Rhona outside of the pub. She’d said she had information on the murder. And she’d made that claim within Morag’s earshot. Then she’d instantly reversed and said she didn’t.