Hooked on Ewe (23 page)

I groaned inwardly at the tangled web the former committee members were weaving. Hadn’t Oliver, only a short while ago, made sure I knew about Andrea’s actions at the
meeting and implied that there was more to her than met the eye? Then Andrea had pointed me in Lily’s direction? Now Lily was hurrying me off after Oliver? I wondered how Lily was going to handle what I was about to throw at her next. Asking polite questions is the Scottish way. But I’m an American. I can do polite with the best of them, but I got better results when I threw something out there and let it explode. I took a deep breath and went for it.

“Lily,” I said. “You drugged Isla, didn’t you?” I didn’t know if Lily had or not. It was a hunch and I had decided to bet on it.

She couldn’t have reacted with more shock than if I’d physically slapped her. “Wha’? No! I don’t know what ye mean. Isla was drugged?”

I wasn’t backing off yet. “You took the sleeping pills that Senga had thrown away. You crushed up the pills and sprinkled them on the cupcake frosting. Then you gave that cupcake to Isla.”

Lily stared at me, stricken. Had I been wrong? I was just about to apologize for my brazen behavior—after all, Lily had helped Senga bake hundreds of cupcakes for charity and here I was, looking for a criminal connection—when Lily’s entire body slumped in defeat. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, running down her face.

Oh my goodness, I’d been right!
The realization left me feeling emotionally exhausted rather than elated. “Why?” I asked her quietly.

She shook her head. “It was an awful mistake.”

I took out my phone and called the inspector. “Lily Young is the one who drugged Isla Lindsey,” I told him
without preamble. “We’re at the Kilt & Thistle at my usual table in the back.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.

I kept quiet for a while after that, giving Lily time to think over her dilemma. It seemed like an eternity passed as we waited.

“I didn’t kill her,” Lily finally said. She hadn’t denied drugging Isla with the cupcake, though, and it followed that she had killed her as well. It was easy to assume that Lily had murdered Isla for personal reasons, but I was still stuck on the issue of embezzlement. One of the theories I’d toyed with involved a partner. Or a blackmailer. The missing funds still hadn’t been located. Could Lily have been in on it?

“Who was responsible for gathering cash proceeds that Saturday?” I asked, after we’d waited a reasonable amount of time and the inspector still hadn’t made an appearance.

Lily, visibly relieved for a break from her transgression, didn’t hesitate to cooperate. “As ye know, the welcome committee sold all the programs and such. Whoever was available would make the rounds tae the refreshment tent several times each day and collect from the vendors. Every couple hours, in fact. I did the collecting at the end o’ the trials when Isla went missin’.”

“So,” I said to establish those who had authority to handle the cash. “You, Oliver, Andrea, and Isla. What about at past events?”

“Same procedure.”

“Whoever was on the welcome committee?”

“The four o’ us who were permanent members o’ that
committee and had authorization tae collect. Yerself wasnae approved, as ye didnae come tae meetings, and Sean Stevens wasnae, either, since he only showed up tae help on the day of.”

Lily was very straightforward with her answers. I wasn’t getting any vibes that suggested she was hiding anything, or that my questions were getting too close to some hidden truth.

“And where did you put these funds after you collected them to safeguard for the rest of the event?”

“We handed them over tae Isla, except as I said this last time when I couldn’t find her. She was in charge and she sure didn’t let us forget it fer even a minute.” Here Lily leaned in confidentially. “I dinnae like tae speak ill o’ the dead, but we all were privy tae Harry’s concerns, and if anybody was skimmin’, it was Isla. If ye’re looking fer her killer, ye’d best see aboot that.”

If I wasn’t learning anything else, I was learning this—Lily Young had it in for Isla. Even as an outsider, I’d sensed that from the minute those two went head-to-head. So it stood to reason that Lily would implicate Isla as the sticky-fingered bandit. She probably didn’t realize how accurate her accusation was.

Right then, the inspector arrived.

“What took you so long?” I asked, rising and moving off to a short distance where the two of us could speak in private, but still keep an eye on Lily.

“Are ye scolding me?”

I guess I was. “I’m a little stressed is all,” I told him. “It’s not every day that I catch a criminal by myself.”

“It’s my auto that’s the bother,” he explained. “It’s been
acting up and wouldn’t start. I’ll have tae call fer a tow. Noo, can ye explain a bit more o’ this situation?”

“I could, but I’d prefer you get it from the horse’s mouth.”

With my prompting and Jamieson’s prodding, we finally got Lily to admit that she had drugged Isla. “I didn’t mean anythin’ by it,” she said. “I only wanted tae get rid o’ her fer the afternoon and tae shut her trap fer a change.”

“You planned it in advance.”

“I guess it was on my mind fer a spell, gettin’ her outta the way so I could take charge fer a bit. And after Senga threw away the sample, I came up with the idea, went back and got them. . . . I really disliked that woman!”

“Enough tae kill her, I expect,” the inspector said.

But Lily wasn’t taking the blame for Isla’s death. She flat-out denied it, and as much as the inspector tried, he couldn’t get her to confess to the murder.

Eventually, the inspector pulled me aside and said, “Good work, Constable Elliott. But at this point, I might have better results takin’ her in tae the station fer further questioning. And with her statement regarding actions tae put Isla out o’ commission, I’ll be able tae hold her a spell. Noo all I need is a vehicle.” He gave me a steady look. “Ye’re back on the case, I’m suspecting.”

“Yes.”

“I thought as much.”

“And if you need a ride, I’m sure Sean Stevens would be happy to chauffeur you around,” I deadpanned.

“More o’ that foolish talk and I’ll have tae put ye on parking ticket duty.”

“No you won’t,” I said in a tone the Scots would describe as cheeky. “You need me to help solve this case.”

“Ye can wipe that smirk right off yer face,” he said. “I’ve made arrangements with Sean tae use his car. Up until a moment ago it was unclear how he would get out and aboot. But now, he’ll be the one riding with a partner, and can ye guess who that might be?”

My smile slid sideways.

I stood on the cobblestone walkway watching the inspector drive off in Sean’s red Renault with Lily Young beside him.

Sean Stevens slid into the passenger seat of my Peugeot. “Ye can do the driving, and I’ll do the directing, Lesser Constable Elliott,” Sean informed me as he closed the door.

I went around and got into the driver’s seat. “Lesser?”

“We need tae make a distinguish between us, and since I have seniority, I thought Lesser would be appropriate until such a time as me own rank increases.”

I considered the possibility of driving as close as possible to one of the many highland cliffs, reaching across Sean, opening his door, and shoving him out. But then Vicki would never speak to me again, and I valued her friendship. So that could only be a fantasy, one to escape into in trying times.

Like this one.

“We didn’t find anything out o’ the ordinary at Harry Taggart’s office or his home or his automobile,” Sean went on as he buckled up (the seat belt another complication in my fantasy to throw him out). “So fer now, we will assume that his story is true, and pursue the culprit who stole his kit. Where are we off tae?”

“The inspector just drove off in your car with Lily Young,” I said, starting the engine, agitated at his cluelessness. “And we are supposed to follow.”

“What are ye waiting fer, then?” Sean interrupted. “Snow on the mountain peaks?”

As I pulled away from the Kilt & Thistle my thoughts flitted back to the sheep dog trials on Saturday. We’d had amazingly sunny weather leading up to the event, and it had lasted right through Saturday. Several volunteers had been sunburnt as had many of the spectators. I’d learned that Lily got hers while staking out the harbor, waiting for a couple to return in hopes of confirming the identity of Oliver Wallace’s guest. Isla had also had a bad case of sunburn. So had Oliver.

What if Oliver and Isla really
had
been out in the Moray Firth together? Not as lovers—I’d heard Isla snipping at Oliver too many times, showing her frustration with him for being late, or for disappearing when work was to be done, or . . . on and on. And he’d intentionally irritated her. I didn’t believe for a moment that they were carrying on in a romantic relationship . . . but that didn’t mean they weren’t up to something else.

Did it even matter with the latest development? Lily Young had deliberately given Isla Lindsey a drug-laced
cupcake, and she’d even admitted it. So it would have been easy for her to slip into the van and strangle the unconscious woman.

Case closed.

Or was it?

There was still the issue of stolen money. Lily hadn’t shown any signs of stress when we discussed the money-collecting procedures during fund-raisers. She’d actually been forthcoming and helpful.

What about Oliver? He was one of the trusted inner circle, on the short list of those approved to collect cash at all the events. He might not be a killer, but he could be a crook. What if
he’d
been Isla’s partner? That is, if she even had one. This was purely speculation on my part.

All kinds of scenarios were going through my mind as we left the center of the village behind us. I glanced at the harbor as we came directly parallel to the docks, thinking of Oliver’s boat and Lily’s suspicions. Maybe it would be worthwhile to walk around, see things from her point of view.

I slowed down, then made a snap decision and pulled over. “We need to make a short stop here,” I told Sean.

“As ye stated, the inspector specifically ordered us tae follow him.” He scanned the road ahead. I followed his eyes. The Renault wasn’t in sight. “And ye didn’t even try tae keep up. He’s going tae be unhappy with us as it ’tis, without makin’ things worse fer us. Ye can take a stroll afterwards on yer own time.”

I climbed out.

“We haff tae follow orders!” Sean was becoming agitated. “And wha’ do ye want at the harbor anyhoo?”

“Uh . . . I’m meeting Leith Cameron,” I said. “But it will only take a few minutes.”

“Can’t the lovey-dovey wait?” Sean was out of the car, coming around, not at all happy with me.

“You go on,” I told him, wondering how I’d get back. I supposed I could call Vicki for a ride. Or perhaps I’d really run into Leith. “Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll catch up later?”

“This is not the way o’ things.”

Ah, but I had an ace up my sleeve. “Lily Young is the one who drugged Isla. She’s admitted it.”

That did it. Sean leapt in and planted himself behind the wheel before I finished speaking. “Why dinnae ye say so earlier? We’ve closed the case then!” he said, excited now.

“Hurry. You don’t want to miss her confession.”

Sean actually managed to squeal the tires on the old Peugeot as he took off after the inspector, trailing in his dust as usual. I watched him disappear from sight then turned toward the dock.

Off to my left, the beach was empty except for a few late-season strollers. Even though the sun beat down brightly and a warm breeze lifted a few strands of my hair, the waters of the North Sea had started to cool off in anticipation of the coming winter. No one was swimming.

Next to the beach, a row of canoes for hire had been pulled up onto the sandy shore and were being loaded onto the bed of a pickup truck, presumably on the way to storage until spring. Two sandpipers waded nearby.

As I walked onto the main wooden dock, swallows with
forked tails and pointed wings swooped gracefully overhead. A black-headed gull stood on one of the mooring pilings.

Sailboat riggings sang on the breeze. These boats, too, would soon be lifted onto cradles and stowed safely before temperatures plummeted.

I walked the length of the main pier, looking for Oliver’s boat. But all of these were the commercial fishing boats and charters.
Bragging Rights
was in its slip, but its owner was nowhere in sight. Today, Leith must be on the River Spey, fly-fishing with customers who often hired him to help them locate river salmon. It was a beautiful afternoon for wading upstream.

I couldn’t remember the name of Oliver’s boat, but I felt confident that I would recognize the name once I saw it.

Next, I walked along the dock to the left, closest to the beach where the smaller craft were tucked into slips. Slowly, enjoying the weather and the colorful harbor, I checked the names of the boats. While many of them were clever wordplays, and others were in Scottish Gaelic that I couldn’t translate, none rang a bell for me.

There was only one pier left. Oliver’s boat had to be docked there. I’d almost walked the entire length, admiring the size of the cruisers, when a familiar boat name jumped out at me.
Slip Away.
That was it!

Oliver’s “wee” boat was hardly what I’d consider small, but it sure was bonny. It was a luxury cruiser with multiple levels including an upper sundeck. Stepping over thick ropes securing his pleasure boat to the slip, I walked along the planks beside it, calling out to Oliver. I noticed
immediately that his motor craft wasn’t locked up. In fact, it appeared that someone had been here recently. So when he didn’t answer, I stepped on board.

A toolbox was open in the cockpit and the hatch leading below deck was open. I stopped at the steps and called down to Oliver, again without a response.

I slowly descended to find a galley, a bedroom to rival any fine hotel’s luxury suite, and a bathroom with a full shower. The closet contained a rack of menswear. As I poked around, I thought about possible hiding places for large sums of cash. There were all kinds of nooks and crannies. Everywhere I turned, I encountered more hidden storage spaces. While I listened for signs of Oliver’s return, I couldn’t resist opening this and that, reasoning that this might be my only chance. If I had stashed cash on a boat like this, where would it be?

That was a perplexing question. One that I decided I better save for another day. All signs pointed to someone’s imminent return, and that someone would be Oliver and he shouldn’t find me down here snooping, especially if he was up to something.

The question was, what?

Lily had practically confessed to Isla’s murder. Or had she?

Isla had been killed in Oliver’s van. He had been seen with Harry right after he picked up his yarn kit.
And
he’d had access to collected charity funds.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Oliver had secrets. They might not involve murder, but embezzlement was a serious crime. I hadn’t intended to go this far alone. My quickly hatched plan had been to wander around by the
pier and try to put a few puzzle pieces together. The man could be dangerous. Instinct kicked in. I needed to get out of here.

As I hurried toward the stairs leading to the deck, I gave the rooms one last scan. I’d discovered plenty of equipment that was completely unfamiliar to me. But no safe for valuables. And no money.

Once above, I turned my gaze briefly to the open sea, pausing to admire the view instead of minding the dock. Too late, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning quickly, I saw Oliver. He was on board, and he had his hands filled with ropes, the same ones I’d noticed earlier that had been holding his cruiser securely in its slip.

“Eden Elliott,” he said, his eyes flashing with smoldering anger as he threw the lines in a pile. “So nice tae have you aboard. I’m guessing ye haven’t seen one o’ our sunsets from the sea yet. Ye’re long overdue fer a boat ride.”

The implication wasn’t subtle. This would be my one and only.

I moved toward the pier, but he blocked my path. “Ye need tae go below until we’re safely out o’ the harbor,” he said.

I frantically looked for assistance but there wasn’t anybody in the immediate vicinity. All the tourists were gone. Summer was over. It was a workday. There were all kinds of reasons why no one was around. Regardless, I opened my mouth to belt out a cry for help.

Before I knew what was happening, Oliver had shoved me toward the stairs. I tried to catch my balance, but he picked me up, took a few steps to the hatch, and attempted to throw me down. I reached out, grabbing and securing a
hold just in time to save myself from a fall, and stumbled down, managing to make it below without a crippling injury. Within the space of a few seconds, I was locked below.

I heard the engine start up.

A few minutes later, we were moving.