Competition Can Be Murder (19 page)

“Have you seen anyone you recognize?” I asked, keeping my voice low in the rush of the wind.

“No. You?”

Unfortunately, I hadn’t. I wondered where Lewis was. I disconnected the call as another couple walked into view.

Farther down the main trail, I spotted Lewis standing in front of a marker. He stood with head bowed, hands clasped in front, looking meditative as per instructions. I kept up my slow pace, pausing at each grave, reading markers, until I stood at the same one with him.

I muttered the same question I’d posed to Robert, and he shook his head. His face looked miserable and I noticed that his hands shook. I wanted to pat him on the shoulder, but couldn’t be sure who might be watching from the shrubbery.

“It’ll be okay,” I murmured. I had to move on as the other couple caught up with me once more.

Beyond the Fraser grave the path circled back over the main battlefield. Not wanting to get too far from the rest of the team or the money, I retraced my steps. Lewis remained at the Fraser grave and Robert was hanging pretty close to the MacDougal. The others were milling about, looking uncertain. I kept my distance and stole a peek at my watch. It was nearing two o’clock. I thought we were all starting to get the same sickening feeling. Nothing was going to happen.

At the moment, there were no other people in sight but our small group. I motioned them together.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen,” I mumbled. “Either we’ve been spotted, or this was a wild goose chase from the start.”

“I agree.” Robert’s voice sounded like it was about to crack. “What do you want to do?”

“It’s getting late and I need to get back to Drake,” I said. “Let’s make a show of rounding up everyone and leaving. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring this many people anyway.”

Heads nodded, but only Edward’s look was accusatory.

I turned back to Robert. “If you want to keep trying, I’d suggest that you have Lewis remain at the Fraser stone, as per instructions. Everyone else go home.”

“I want to catch this criminal,” Robert said. “I want Richie back, but it’s not right that he simply get away with this. I want to catch him taking the money.”

My cell phone rang. “Yes?” It was Drake.

“Time for me to go,” I announced to the group. “Do whatever you want. My original suggestion still holds.”

I met each of their eyes, but didn’t get much of a feeling for what they would decide. I walked away.

Out in the parking area I glanced toward the white Range Rover. No sign of Alasdair. Now what was he up to? Dealing with these people was like trying to herd kittens. I threw up my hands in frustration and climbed into the Vector.

Drake had called from fifteen minutes out. He’d left the mechanic at the platform to keep watch on the JetRanger. He would pick me up at the airport and take me immediately back to the rig so we could shuttle both aircraft home safely.

Fortunately, Culloden wasn’t far from the airport and I sped into the parking lot just as Drake circled on final. By the time he’d set down, I’d dashed into the office and grabbed my survival suit. I shuffled awkwardly into it while getting a quick briefing from Meggie. No phone messages, and yes, we would each be bringing back a full crew of workers from the rig.

Drake was jotting entries in his meticulous writing into his log book when I climbed into the other front seat in the Astar. He pushed his mike aside to give me a quick kiss.

I buckled in and adjusted my headset while he radioed the tower and got clearance for takeoff.

“So, how was your day?” he asked, not knowing anything beyond the early morning phone from Sarah.

By the time I’d filled him in on the second ransom note, the clues I’d found, the visit to Ramona’s, the ransom-drop phone call, and the abortive attempt to deliver it to Culloden, we had the rig in sight on the horizon.

“So, yes, it’s been quite a day,” I said. “I think I’m tired already.”

“It’s almost over,” he said. “At least everything seems to be working fine on this baby now. And I put Joe on security detail with yours until we get back. I told him, no coffee breaks, no pit stops, nothing. Not to let that ship out of his sight for an instant. You’ll be fine getting her back home.”

“Any trouble from Brankin or his men?”

“Not a peep. I got a couple of dirty looks, but nobody said anything.”

Drake guided the helicopter directly toward the south face of the platform, to the rig’s helipad. He set the Astar gently onto its spot beside the waiting JetRanger. Joe, the mechanic, moved from his sentry post at the head of it and walked toward us. He came to my side of the ship and opened my door for me. Eight men waited in an orderly queue for their ride home at the end of their shifts, none from Brankin’s inner circle.

“Crank up and we’ll check our communications before I leave,” Drake instructed me before I took off the headset and handed it over to Joe.

I ducked around the front of the Astar and unlocked the other ship. Drake waited, watching the area as Joe and I assisted our passengers. I went through the startup procedure, adjusted my headset, and radioed him.

“All clear, Delta-Delta-Alpha-Bravo. Go ahead, we’ll be right behind you.” His level voice came through clearly.

I pulled pitch and lifted slowly off the platform. Sweeping to my left, I made a wide berth for Drake. In another two minutes, he’d taken off again and he soon caught up with me, the two of us becoming a mini flight formation inbound, with our tails to the rig. I liked the symbolism of it.

I watched Drake at the controls of his aircraft and was reminded of the powerful attraction I’d felt the first time we’d met—he at the helm and I, a tourist out for a view of the beautiful island of Kauai. Now, here I was flying beside him. How far we’d come in these years. I caught him watching me and knew a very similar thought was going through his mind; we often do that. He raised his fingers to his lips and blew me a kiss.

I hung on to my little inner glow for the rest of the flight. It would have been nice to keep it for a few more days and pretend we were honeymooners again. But I knew Drake needed to contact Brian Swinney and bring him up to date on his operations, and I really should check in at Dunworthy and find out where things stood with them.

We both landed outside the hangar and the crewmen dispersed quickly. Joe gathered his things and said goodbye. He had a train to catch and hoped to be home in time for dinner. Drake and I agreed that he would wind things up here, finishing paperwork and calling Brian, while I stopped at the Dunbar’s.

All the vehicles were parked outside when I drove up to Dunworthy. I crossed my fingers that this was a good sign, that they’d gotten Richie back and were now inside having a cheery family reunion. I knew the instant I rapped the heavy door knocker that it wasn’t to be.

Molly pulled the heavy door open before I’d hardly lowered my hand.

“Oh, Ms. Parker, ma’am, they’ll be so glad to see you!” Her full, young mouth settled back into the long lines it wore before she spoke.

“Is there any news?” I asked.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid.”

I followed her to the drawing room where the men clenched whiskey glasses and the women cradled glasses of sherry. I accepted one without question.

“What’s happened since the battlefield?” I asked Robert.

He ran a weathered hand over his brow, emitting a low groan.

“Actually, quite a lot has happened,” Sarah said. She rose from her seat near the fireplace and came toward me. “We were just doing as you’d suggested, leaving Culloden, when another call came on the cell phone. The man directed us to another place.”

“A park, actually, on the grounds of Inverness Castle,” Robert said.

“This time he wanted Robert to bring the money.”

“And come alone,” Robert added.

“We did exactly as he asked,” Sarah said. Moisture welled in her eyes.

“But you don’t have Richie back, obviously,” I said.

Edward slammed his glass down onto a table, jerking my attention to the other side of the room. “I’ve had it with these people and their wild chases. If I catch this man, I swear, I’ll kill him.”

Elizabeth didn’t react. She’d sat in one position on an ottoman since I’d entered the room. Her elbows rested on her knees and her eyes bored at a spot on the carpet somewhere in the middle of the floor.

“This is ridiculous!” Edward ranted. “I can’t believe the idiot, thinking he can put us through our paces this way.”

“Clearly he is, Edward,” Robert said, “so you may as well settle down.”

Edward picked up his glass and drained it in one swig. “I’ll be in the library. I’ve got paperwork.” He set his glass down, none too gently, and stomped out of the room.

I wondered at the kind of man who would think to bring paperwork with him when his son had been kidnapped, but the others didn’t look terribly surprised.

“So,” I said, turning to Robert. “You gave up and brought the money back, I guess?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to leave it unguarded in a public place, not unless I had Richie safely in my care again. The bag is there.” He pointed to a spot beside a small oval table.

“Not much we can do until we hear from them again,” Sarah said, picking up the sherry bottle and offering refills.

Robert poured himself another generous shot of Glen Livet and turned to me. “How’s the progress on our other mystery, then?”

I went blank for a second. “Oh, the missing lambs? I can’t report much there either, I’m afraid. I looked again at the two Ian and Ramona have, and there are no tags or distinguishing marks on either lamb.”

“You went to Brodie’s place?”

“Twice now. I’ve only noticed two lambs, but—”

“What did Brodie say about them?”

“He’s not there right now. Gone for a few days to Aberdeen.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Quite the coincidence, isn’t it? Him leaving right when Richie’s missing.”

I glanced at Sarah. Her face had gone about three shades paler. I was afraid to voice my own suspicions about Ian.

“His wife told me Ian’s father had a heart attack and Ian had to go help with their farm.” I suddenly felt torn about whether to mention the cigarette butts I’d found, or the candy wrapper. The cigarettes only indicated that Ian had come as close as the gazebo and that, in itself, was certainly no crime. Not to mention that they certainly weren’t proof. No doubt millions of people smoked that same brand.

“Heart attack—that’s a bit convenient, isn’t it?” Robert said. His voice rose ominously. “Maybe two lambs weren’t enough for the man. Had to really prove his point by coming for my own grandson!”

Sarah uttered a faint whimper and sank down to the ottoman beside Elizabeth. “You don’t honestly think . . .”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said. After all, I’d had my own suspicions about Ian. “He really doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would go this far.” I thought of Ian working with his dogs, his brief tirade against the government policies on wool prices. He was angry, but I still saw him as a simple, hard-working man who just wanted to get a little bit ahead in this world.

“But . . . I sense there’s a ‘but’ in there someplace,” Robert said.

Literally. “I did find a couple of little indicators that someone may have been watching the house,” I told them. “But without fingerprints or DNA evidence, they certainly aren’t proof that the person was Ian.”

“Come on, Charlie, who else would it be?”

“I don’t know.” I fought against letting my voice become too sharp. “You haven’t given me much to go on here. You don’t seem to feel you have any enemies, and I don’t have the manpower to go out and canvass the neighborhood to find out otherwise. I only found out about the bad blood between you and Ian Brodie because I overheard an argument outside my window one morning.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak more slowly. “I’ve repeatedly asked you to call in the authorities. They
would
have the manpower to investigate properly.”

Sarah and Elizabeth stared at me, their eyes growing wider. Robert stomped across the room and picked up the telephone.

“Well, now that we know it’s Brodie, maybe I will call them. Let them—”

The portable phone rang in his hand, startling all of us.

“Oh, bother,” he said, hitting the button to answer the call. “Yes, what is it?”

He listened intently, the anger draining from his face.

“Yes. I’ve got it,” he finally said, hanging up.

“While it’s fresh, repeat every word they said,” I told him.

“He said, ‘You failed the first test, idiot, but did much better on the second one. This will be your last chance and you’d better get this one right. Come alone. Go down Route B862 for exactly one-point-five miles beyond the sign that says Loch Ness Trail. At that point, there’s a turnout on the left. Stop there and put the money into the waste bin.’ Then he said, ‘Have the money in a trash sack, not that stupid black valise you’ve been using.’ ”

So our moves had been watched.

“What about Richie?” I asked.