Hooked on Ewe (19 page)

“This isn’t a proper wake,” he said. “If it were, I’d say yes, but with an informal gathering”—the inspector shrugged—“’tis anybody’s guess.”

I walked beside him with my head down, something I do when I’m thinking hard (and also because I don’t have a lifetime of experience on cobblestone like the villagers do—if I don’t want a twisted ankle, watching my footing is mandatory until I improve on that skill).

Some subject we’d touched on tonight at the pub was bothering me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Look up, Eden,” the inspector said gently, startling me by using my given name, something he rarely did.

I lifted my head, and my eyes were instantly drawn to the sky over the North Sea, where ribbons of green and red swatches of color blanketed the stars like a curtain, undulating, waving, alive with motion.

“The northern lights!” I said with awe in my voice.

“Aye, aurora borealis. It’s best observed on cold, clear nights in the winter months, but every now and then we have a display such as this in the autumn.”

We stood observing in silence after that. For how long I wasn’t sure, nor did I care. This was a magical moment, and I wanted it to last as long as possible. After some undetermined length of time had passed, the lights slowly faded away, leaving a deep blue, starred sky behind.

“That’s something to put in yer book,” the inspector said.

Yes, yes it was.

First thing Tuesday morning, I bolted suddenly awake and sprang from my squeaky spring bed with the answer to what had been bothering me last night.

I called the inspector. It rang and rang, and I was about to hang up and call again, thinking I might have dialed the wrong number in my excitement, when he finally answered.

“I remembered something!” I said after identifying myself.

“What time is it?” he asked, sounding groggy.

I hadn’t checked, hadn’t given it a thought until now. “Um . . . five something.”

“And ye have a proper reason fer phoning at this hour?”

“Yes!”

I heard a sigh, but ignored it and continued, “It came to me in the night. My brain was mulling it over and at some point it dredged up what was stuck. That’s happened before, usually with some sticky spot in a plot issue that I
can’t resolve. This is the first time that I had an actual murder case epiphany, though.”

“Now that it’s unstuck, perhaps ye can get tae the point.”

What was that in his voice? Annoyance? I didn’t let it discourage me.

“We know that Isla’s death occurred after one thirty,” I said in a rush, “because she was seen then, right?”

“Aye. We’ve been over that already.”

“And I know from the printed program that during the hour after that there wasn’t a sheep dog trial going on, only John Derry giving a herding dog demonstration and Charlotte with her sheep shearing, so we haven’t been able to eliminate any of the judges or the dog handlers. And now there’s another person that we can’t eliminate.”

“That certainly will uncomplicate things,” he said, showing plenty of early-morning sarcasm along with some impatience and frustration. I was dealing with an early-morning crank. “Let’s go on tae make the list a mile long,” he crabbed. “And wake me up tae do it.”

“Are you going to listen or not?” I didn’t want to hear his answer, so I didn’t wait for it. “Senga Hill sold out of her cupcakes sometime during that time,” I informed him rather smugly. When he didn’t immediately react, I continued on. He hadn’t had his coffee yet. I’d have to walk him to the obvious conclusion. “She’d saved one for me and when I went to get it, most of the cupcakes were gone. That was around noon. But shortly after, I know she ran out. Last night, you said that some of the other vendors had placed her in the refreshment tent until she sold all her cupcakes, which you assumed meant from the
beginning of the trials until the end. But she sold out much sooner. You failed to ask those witnesses exactly
when
that happened.”

There was a long silence on the other end while the inspector processed this new information. As I waited, I began to worry about how the inspector was going to accept a minion like me pointing out a mistake on his part. Could he handle his own oversight? I bet Sean never outguessed him, so he might not have any experience with admitting mistakes—to himself or to anyone else.

The silence stretched on. Either his wheels were turning, or he’d dozed off, or the boom was about to swing and lop off my head.

“Are you still there?” I asked after a length of time.

He cleared his throat and said, “Constable Elliott, I believe it’s time I put the proverbial screws to a certain cupcake baker.”

I was going to take that as a big pat on the back for a job well done. “Do you want backup?”

The inspector actually snorted. “Tae handle a pensioner? I’ll give ye points fer a fine bit o’ analysis, but I’m not so far advanced in age that I can’t handle Senga Hill on my own.”

“I’m here to help any way I can.”

“Just find out which o’ the kits is missing a skein o’ yarn! How hard can it be? There are only two o’ them left.” This was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet. One I was perfectly happy to bypass in the future.

“Aye, aye, sir. Will do.”

After he gave me Andrea Lindsey’s address and
directions to her home, which was fairly simple and straightforward since Glenkillen isn’t exactly a huge metropolis, we disconnected.

After peeking outside and finding it overcast and chilly, I made a cup of instant coffee and a bowl of porridge, took a shower, dressed in jeans and a scoop-necked long-sleeved blue sweater, and impatiently waited around for the day to break and the rest of the world to wake up and get moving.

I even tried to get some work done on
Hooked on You
but ended up with a sheet of paper filled with doodles and a blank computer page.

Once it was a decent hour, I decided I couldn’t stay indoors any longer. There were no lights on in the main house as I walked past, full of vigor, and wrapped in my fleece jacket with my credentials and pepper spray in the pockets, but Sean’s red Renault was parked indiscreetly in front of the barn. The soon-to-be official police officer might be a bit of a bumbler, but he had a good heart and seemed to make Vicki happy. That’s all that really counted.

I felt a slight twinge of something suspiciously like envy for what the two of them had found in each other. I told myself it was acid reflux and shook it off. Jealousy isn’t a trait I admire in others or especially in myself. Still . . . did I want what they had? Or was it simply the lure of the Highlands and the romance of the place that had me pining for more? And what about Leith Cameron? Were we destined for something more than friendship?

Live for the moment,
I scolded myself.
The future will be here soon enough.

I hopped into the Peugeot, popped it into first gear while
working the clutch, and headed for Andrea’s house, hoping to catch her before she left for her first day back at work at the Glenkillen Hospice since her sister-in-law died.

Andrea lived on Ardconnel Road in a traditional detached white villa elevated above the village with views of the harbor and bay. A stone wall and hedge ran along the front of the house, and as I parked, she appeared on the porch where she locked the door and bounded down the steps, turning toward Glenkillen at a brisk walk.

She hadn’t seen me, so I hustled out of the car and called her name. She stopped in her tracks and turned.

“Eden Elliott,” she said as she walked back to meet me. “What are ye doin’ here at this early hour?”

“I wanted to catch you before you left for work. Looks like I made it just in time, too.”

She smiled. “Well, here ye have me.” Andrea was dressed in a powder blue nurse’s uniform with sensible shoes and an artificial yellow flower pinned next to her embroidered name on the left breast pocket.

Before launching into my questions, I gazed at the villa for a moment. “You have a beautiful home,” I said, admiring it.

“Thank ye. Bryan and I were raised in this house. Our parents passed on three years ago and the house was tae be sold, with the two of us sharing the proceeds. But Bryan is a generous man, and hasnae protested my remaining here. He’s keepin’ his interest in it fer a later date. It’s been updated a bit, and I take good care o’ it.”

“I’ve been thinking about the two of you often since Isla’s death. Bryan must be devastated. You and your
brother seem very close.” I already knew that Andrea had never married, and had heard that she was devoted to her career and, as was obvious, to her brother.

“Aye. We were born sixteen months apart, so we grew up together with many o’ the same friends and same activities.” She smiled sadly. “It’s been difficult, but life goes on. My brother will recover from his loss in time. But what can I do for ye today? I cannae take long, I don’t like to be late fer work.”

“Only a minute or two. I’d hoped you could give me some insight. Anything you observed on Saturday that might have seemed unusual? What kind of mood was Isla in? Did she appear her usual self? Anything at all you can tell me that might lead to the person who did this.”

Andrea thought for a moment then shook her head. “Isla was the same as she always is, and no, I didn’t notice anything out o’ the ordinary.”

I didn’t detect any hostility in Andrea’s tone, any negative reaction toward her sister-in-law, even though I’d heard that Andrea was the one who’d told her brother about his wife’s infidelity. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if Andrea had had some hard feelings; I’d witnessed plenty of bullying from Isla. She hadn’t been one to discriminate when it came to pushing people around—her family got the same treatment as the rest of us who found ourselves under her authority. Maybe even more.

Andrea couldn’t possibly think much of the woman her brother had married, nor did she seem particularly shook up over Isla’s death. She’d been much more concerned about Bryan and how he was handling it. Andrea might be a great caregiver, but she lacked much in the way of a
backbone. That thought had crossed my mind during our very first planning meeting for the fund-raiser.

I hoped for a little dirt-dishing now. I tried a different tack.

“You were at the last organizational meeting Friday night at the Kilt & Thistle. I understand there was some talk of missing funds.”

“Aye, ’tis true. Harry is calling fer a full audit. It’s an unpleasant thought, that someone would do a thing like that.”

I didn’t tell Andrea that the audit had been completed and the results were in. Instead, I said, “Yes, well, if the audit shows a problem, I doubt that many of the employees had much opportunity. I’m sure the investigation will turn up the culprit fairly quickly.”

“Ach, all of us had opportunities,” Andrea said guilelessly. “We shared in collecting money throughout each event. Isla and Oliver usually made the rounds, but I did it myself on occasion. Lots of cash transactions and not much in the way o’ accountability.”

I wondered if Andrea thought the skimming amounted to no more than a few pounds taken during the events. It wasn’t my place to inform her otherwise.

I brought up the more delicate subject of my conversation with Bill Morris. “Andrea,” I began, “I also need to ask you what occurred after the fund-raising meeting on Friday night at the Kilt & Thistle. You were seen in conversation with your brother shortly before he had an argument with his wife.”

Andrea’s expression remained neutral. “I’m not aware o’ any row.”

From his account, Bill hadn’t been able to hear what Andrea said to her brother, he’d only heard Isla and Bryan’s raised voices shortly afterward. But Andrea couldn’t have known whether or not her own voice had carried, so I did a little creative rewriting and said, “You were overheard telling your brother that his wife was cheating on him.” Not exactly true, but close enough.

“Who said that?” A small crack appeared in her calm veneer.

“It doesn’t matter. We know it’s true.” There. Using the plural form again, making it stronger and more official. “Who was the man?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But when Lily Young told me that Isla had been unfaithful tae Bryan, I thought my brother deserved tae know.”

Lily Young? I’d spoken with her at the farm yesterday and she hadn’t even hinted at Isla’s infidelity. “Who else knows about this?” I asked.

“Nobody else,” Andrea said. “After Isla was killed, I . . . I . . . didn’t want to cause any more pain for Bryan. He’s been through enough. It was just as well that I didn’t know who it was, because when I told Bryan what I’d learned, he reacted so strongly that, if I’d been able tae give him a name, there mighta been a double . . .”

She paused abruptly, realizing she’d said too much. I filled in the blank. “A double homicide?”

The crack in her composure widened, and Andrea visibly crumbled. “Isla was an awful person,” she admitted. “She treated my brother as though he were a servant . . . no . . . not even with that much dignity . . . more like her personal slave.”

“Infidelity is a strong motive,” I told her.

“Bryan didn’t kill Isla!”

“Did you?”

Andrea gasped. “No, I didn’t touch her.” Then, almost without pausing to consider, she said, “I only wanted to make him leave her, ye see! Isla was poison.”

“Didn’t you want to know who the man was? Didn’t you try to find out? Didn’t Lily know?”

“She refused tae say, but claimed she had pictures on her phone as proof. Then on Saturday, after Isla was murdered, Lily came tae me and said she’d made a mistake, that the man she thought was involved wasn’t. She said she wasn’t sure that anything went on at all. So it might have been nothing but gossip. And I’ve since convinced Bryan of that. He doesn’t have tae go on thinking that his dead wife was unfaithful tae him.”

“I need a name, Andrea,” I pressed.

“Then ye’ll have tae get it from Lily.”

“Was it Harry Taggart?” I asked.

Andrea looked shocked. “Harry? He has a very good and trusting nature, and wouldn’t be part o’ something sordid such as that. Now, I best be off.”

“We’re almost finished, please, another minute. I hear Senga Hill worked with the books at one point.”

“She did, but only fer a short time, and she left quickly under stressful conditions. If ye be thinking Senga had anything tae do with the missing funds, it’s possible but I doubt it. She wasn’t with the hospice very long before she was removed from the office, so she couldn’t have been tampering with the collections.”

I nodded, out of questions for the time being. “If you
think of anything else that might be useful,” I said, “please feel free to contact me. Oh, and before you go, I’ll need your yarn kit. I promise it will be returned after our investigation is completed.” Meaning, once we have the killer in custody, and assuming your skein wasn’t the murder weapon.