Competition Can Be Murder (10 page)

But was mere suspicion enough to warrant bringing it to the Dunbars’ attention. The fact that there were bad feelings didn’t mean Ian would actually start a fire. Richie and his friends could have done it accidentally and then lied to cover themselves. Without evidence I better keep quiet.

Clouds were beginning to build overhead and Drake would soon be coming in. I turned back toward home.

By six-thirty, Drake and I had showered and I put on the only semi-dressy outfit I’d brought with me, a soft, black broomstick skirt and short sleeved burgundy silk top.

“Do I look all right to be presented at the palace?” Drake asked.

I laughed. “It’s a castle but they aren’t royalty, after all. The other day when I was there we ate packaged cake and Sarah brewed the tea herself. And, yes, you look fine.”

Actually, Drake’s muscular body looked good in anything, from his khaki flight suit to a tuxedo to noth— I snapped myself back to the moment. “You’re great, hon. Did you pick up that bottle of wine? And where’s that clan book? I want to take it back.”

“In the kitchen.” He pulled me close to him. “You’re not just a little nervous, are you?”

“Why, am I puttering around too much?”

“Well, you’re ready a half hour early. Of course, I could probably think of a way to spend the time.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

He was right—he did think of a way. I just had to rearrange all my clothing and re-comb my hair before we left.

At Dunworthy, lights shone warmly from the downstairs windows. Sarah answered the door herself.

“Ah, my dears, I’m so glad you’re here. Do come in.” She ushered us into the entry hall and draped our jackets over the same pegs we’d used before. “Drake, it’s so nice to finally
see
you.”

“It was pretty dark the other evening, wasn’t it?” He grinned and accepted her peck on his cheek.

“Charlie’s told me something of your work, flying in all those exotic places. You’ll have to tell Robert all— Oh, here he is now.”

Robert looked lordly in his soft wool slacks and deep blue sweater with ascot. He’d stopped short of a burgundy smoking jacket, but I could easily picture him in one. At his feet, the furry Ruffie eyed us warily. I stooped and extended a hand toward her, but she wriggled her nose and kept her distance.

“Pour you a sherry?” Robert asked.

Receiving nods from both of us, he disappeared through the doorway from which he’d come.

“Would you like the quick tour before dinner?” Sarah asked. “I’d offer the long tour, but it takes nearly a full day.”

“The quick tour would be wonderful,” I said.

Robert returned with a small tray holding four cordial glasses and we toasted briefly to everyone’s health.

From the informal entry hall, Sarah led us into a more formal hall, one with a vaulted ceiling, red plush drapes, and ornate columns at the entrance.

Robert spoke up. “This is where my father greeted the queen mother on the one occasion she visited. I was only about three at the time, but I’m told she was quite taken with me. Unfortunately, I don’t remember it.”

“I’m sure you were quite charming in your short pants and small necktie, dear.” Sarah indicated a staircase that gracefully arched around the curved wall. “Upstairs, the nursery is probably the most charming of the rooms,” she said. “Since our children moved away, more than twenty years ago now, I brought a lot of the antique toys out of storage and did a little decorating.”

The cheerful yellow and white room contained two hand-carved cradles, along with an ornate crib and shelves full of elaborately clothed dolls that must be worth a fortune today.

“There’s a second library up here,” Sarah continued. “Mostly it’s been used as a study room for the little ones. Robert did his schoolwork in here, as did our children. Nowadays, I seem to keep one project or another spread out on the table.”

Stacks of cards and envelopes covered the carved mahogany table in the center of the room. Shelves of books, mainly references, covered one wall while the exterior wall had a window that I assumed looked over the rose garden.

“Bedrooms—four along this corridor.” Sarah led us by them with a quick peek in each. “Each now has its own bath, which took no small amount of effort, converting spare closets and such. Luckily that was all done before my time.”

Robert waved toward a smaller staircase, leading up. “Third floor has more bedrooms. Our two live-in staff people are using a couple of them right now, and guests use some of them when we have a large crowd in. Fourth floor was designed for defense. That’s where the really narrow passages are and the stone steps up into the turrets. You can see a large part of the grounds from there, but the steps are very tricky. Have to take you up there sometime during the day.”

At the far end of the corridor we descended a flight of stairs, steeper and less spacious than the curved ones off the main hall. We found ourselves near the library Sarah and I had visited the other day. She deposited the clan book, which she’d been carrying all this time, onto the table.

“On to the dining room,” Sarah said. “Surely Molly must have the soup ready by now.”

We followed her through the library and drawing room, down a short corridor and past the hall. Carved double doors stood open into a dining room that surprised me with its intimacy. An oval cherry table was set for four, with a centerpiece of roses in a silver bowl in the center, two pink tapers in silver candlesticks flanking the flowers. The room itself was not large, about fourteen feet square, with gleaming wood paneling and an angelic mural painted on the ceiling in pastels.

“This is the family dining room,” Sarah said, reading my expression. “It’s the one we use nearly all the time. There’s a formal dining room, but it’s a monstrosity.”

Robert sputtered.

“You know what I mean, dear,” she said, waving off his objection. “It’s huge. Must seat twenty-four or more. Can’t remember the last time we had that many for dinner.”

“Right about that. Here, let’s sit.” Robert indicated our chairs, while Sarah rang a tiny silver bell beside her plate.

The soup Molly brought was excellent, a hearty broth with bits of potato and mushrooms. No one spoke for the first few minutes.

“So, Charlie,” Robert finally said, “any leads on those missing lambs?”

I swallowed a spoonful of the hot soup a bit too quickly. “Well, not really. I don’t have any expertise in livestock.”

“Oh, nonsense. What’s there to know? About like finding a missing child, I’d expect.” He winked in Drake’s direction and sipped slowly at his soup. “Check out that Ian Brodie fellow. Bet that’s where they’ve gone.”

“Actually, I did go over there a couple of days ago,” I said.

“See? Bet they were right there, eh?”

“I have no idea. There are sheep and lambs all over the place. I can’t tell one from the other.”

“Ours are tagged. Do ’em right after they’re born. Little tag on the ear.”

“I didn’t see any tagged ones,” I said truthfully.

“Hmph. Probably got ’em hidden somewhere.” He muttered the words to his empty bowl.

I didn’t mention the path I’d found through the forest. Undoubtedly, Robert must know that there was a direct way from the castle to the Brodie cottage. I didn’t need to remind him.

“There’s pheasant tonight,” Sarah said, ringing the tiny bell again. “From right here on the estate. Our daughter’s become such an environmentalist that she lectures me every time we kill one, but heaven’s, we’ve got thousands. Can’t see that it hurts to eat one now and then.”

“Elizabeth’s a twit,” Robert said. “Couldn’t manage an estate this size if you handed it to her.”

“Elizabeth is very successful at managing her many charity events.” Sarah closed her mouth in a straight line as Molly walked in, carrying a platter with the golden-brown pheasant on it. Molly set the platter in front of Robert and retreated.

He stood up and picked up the carving knife and fork. “Charity events, pah!” He stabbed the fork into the pheasant’s breast. “Get a bunch of Edward’s nouveau-riche friends to feel important by paying a thousand pounds each for dinner. She manages to do that, all right.”

He sliced viciously at the bird. “Just hope Richie turns out to have some business sense.”

“Well.” Sarah closed the subject by passing the bowls of potatoes and vegetables Molly had brought in during Robert’s tirade.

Drake looked a little uncomfortable at their arguing but I, frankly, was glad the subject had turned away from my assignment to find the lost lambs. I searched for a non-controversial topic.

“Drake and I have been getting to see quite a lot of the countryside with all the flying we’re doing these days.”

Both Sarah and Robert seemed happy to talk about something different, so the conversation turned toward helicopters. Soon, Drake was sharing a few of his adventures in Hawaii, with tourists who invariably do predictable things like sticking their cameras out the windows in flight, immediately after being told how dangerous it is.

By the time dessert arrived the air had lightened considerably and we were all laughing. The two bottles of wine with dinner and extra glasses of port afterward probably hadn’t hurt, either. I was surprised to notice that it was nearly ten o’clock. Then I heard a scream from another room.

Sarah turned startled eyes to Robert. We’d all frozen in our spots.

Molly burst through the doorway from the hall, her round face flushed, carrying a portable phone. She thrust it at Robert. Puzzled, he took it from her.

“Hello? Who’s that?” The blood drained from his face as he listened. “Kidnapped! Whatever—”

He held the receiver out and stared at it.

“Robert!” Sarah nearly screamed his name.

He looked up blankly. “Bloody bastard hung up.” His voice trailed away.

“What is it, Robert? Who’s been kidnapped?” I couldn’t stand the suspense any more than Sarah could.

“Richie,” his dead voice replied.

Drake had risen from his chair. “Any way of knowing who it was?” He took the receiver from Robert. “Do you have caller ID or something like that?”

“No . . .” Robert looked like he was about to go into shock. His eyes had a glassy look and his lips were nearly white. Sarah’s pulse showed as a fluttery beat in her temple.

“Listen to me, Robert,” I said. “Tell us exactly what they said.”

“Said Richie’s been kidnapped.”

I looked up at Drake. He clearly didn’t want two medical emergencies on his hands either. I stood up and went to Robert. I placed my hands on each side of his face, making him look directly into my eyes.

“Okay, we need to get this before it fades away,” I told him. “First, was the voice a man or a woman?”

“Man. I think it was. Deep. Lot of static, though.”

Drake came up with a pen and small piece of paper from a pocket. I took them and prepared to write it all down. Chances were that Robert’s recollection would soon blur. Drake pulled his chair near Sarah’s and she gripped his hand.

“Okay. A man’s voice. Now, tell me what he said. Exactly.”

“He said, ‘I’m only sayin’ this once more. We’ve got Richie Campbell. If you want him back alive, you’ll pay fifty-thousand pounds.’ That’s all he said.”

I looked at Molly, who was still hovering at the edge of the room. She nodded. “That’s right. He said that to me, too, ma’am.”

Robert’s color had improved and he seemed to be more in control. Sarah was sobbing quietly, stilling clinging to Drake’s forearm.

“Let’s all go somewhere more comfortable,” I said. “Molly, could you bring tea to the library?”

“There’s a fire in the drawing room already,” she suggested.

“Good. We’ll be in there.” I took Robert’s elbow and helped him up. Drake guided Sarah and we all went to the drawing room, where indeed a cozy fire and overstuffed chairs waited.

“We should first call the police,” I said. “Then may—”

“No! That’s the other thing the voice said. ‘Don’t call the police.’” Robert spun toward me. “We can’t do that.”

“But it only makes sense,” I said. “They know how to handle these situations. We don’t.”

“Charlie, you can investigate it,” Sarah said. Her eyes were too eager.

“Sarah, Robert,
please
don’t put this on me. Richie’s life is at stake and I don’t want to be responsible. And what about the other two boys. Lewis and Alasdair haven’t turned up either.”

“Let’s all sit down,” Drake said. “Maybe we can think of something.”

Molly came in with a tray holding a silver tea service, delicate porcelain cups and saucers, and pots of sugar and cream.

“Stay a minute, Molly,” I said. “You heard the voice too. Did either of you recognize it? Take a minute and think very hard. Have you ever heard that voice before?”

“It sounded like that American actor, Robert DeNiro,” Molly said.

A tiny smile flickered across Sarah’s face.

“Um… I don’t think Robert DeNiro kidnapped Richie.” I looked at her hopeful face. “But thanks for offering that, Molly. Every detail helps.”

“I can’t place the voice,” Robert said. “It sounded like someone trying to disguise his voice. You know, make himself sound more gruff.”