Dressed to Kilt (14 page)

“I could have done a better job with Florence,” I admitted aloud.

“Sometimes a suspect overreacts with anger tae cover up,” the inspector said. “She had no business refusing tae cooperate with a member o' my team. I intend tae back ye up.”

Which made me feel slightly better. “Florence was in and out of the tasting room throughout the day,” I said. “With plenty of opportunity. She could be our killer.”

“Aye,” he said, sounding tired. “Ye managed tae get some new information before ye had her flying out o' the inn. The fact that her son was concerned about Bridie sellin' the company is worth a follow-up. But,” he added quickly, “I'll handle him. And as tae the information she refused tae supply ye with, she claimed yesterday that she never laid eyes on Henrietta that entire day. At the present time, we have no way o' confirming the truth o' that. I'd say she's the one skatin' on thin ice at present.”

“Very funny.”

As we disconnected, I thought I heard him chuckle.

I didn't want to place too much stock in Florence's analysis of Henrietta McCloud's unsavory character, mainly because Bridie's daughter-in-law could have been describing herself rather than the house companion. But I decided I should at least spend a short time pursuing her claim, as frivolous as it probably would turn out to be.

According to Florence, Henrietta McCloud was a spiteful woman. She'd implied that Henrietta had a mean streak and was capable of acting out. My first impulse was to disregard anything coming from Archie's wife, but then I remembered what Gordon had told me. Henrietta's nephew had said she'd expressed unspecified regrets, had wanted to make things right. If she wanted to make amends, with whom? And why? And did she get that chance before she was killed?

The only people who knew Henrietta's full history were her sister, Patricia; Bridie; and Gordon. And all three of them were considered suspects. Not at the top of the list, but
suspects just the same. No one from that night had been eliminated.

Did that mean I should also take Gordon's observations with a grain of salt? He might be lying. Florence could be lying. Any of them might be. How was I supposed to wade through all the information they offered and sort truth from fiction? That was the hard part.

Briefly, I wondered if forensics was uncovering anything useful. Would damning evidence come to light in the next day or two? A fingerprint on the side of the washback would be the perfect solution. But if the killer knew the warehouse wouldn't be used that day, there would have been plenty of time to wipe away any traces of evidence. And didn't those of us who tried to save her touch the washback? I had. Leith and Gordon certainly did. Who else had?

While I was pondering which of Saturday's guests to bother next, I decided I'd better adopt the inspector's method of eliminating one at a time. Jeannie came over to clear away the plates.

“Two of your guests claim they were in their rooms all afternoon on Saturday,” I said. “I'm hoping to substantiate their assertions.”

“Ye're referrin' tae Janet Dougal and Patricia Martin, I've no doubt.”

Sometimes I tended to underestimate Jeannie.

“Don't look so shocked,” she said, reading my thoughts. “Ye're an investigator, investigating a crime, and those two are on yer short list. I didn't see either o' them until aboot six thirty or so when they came down tae go tae the tastin'.”

“How did they get out to the distillery?”

“They both have rental cars, but there had been the
snowstorm so Gordon Martin came round tae fetch them. Although it was a bit awkward noo that I'm rememberin' it.”

“Awkward?”

“Janet rushed over tae Patricia, who was mindin' her own business waitin' in the lobby, and told her that she was tae ride with her out tae the tasting. Patricia said she didn't know anything aboot that and who was she anyway tae be making such demands. Janet was cheeky, actin' like she expected service, sayin' she'd planned tae drive herself but the weather had turned bad and she was afraid o' the roads.

“When Gordon came in tae collect his mum, he didn't know aboot it, either. But Janet wouldn't let up, and what could they do but take her along and sort it out later. That's a pushy one, that.”

Yes, she was. Janet would do pretty much anything to get what she wanted. With her attention focused on pursuing the inspector, I pitied him.

Then I asked, “How well did you know Henrietta McCloud?”

“By sight only. She rarely came intae the village. She kept tae herself.”

“I've heard that she had a nasty side, that she could cause her share of trouble.”

Jeannie snorted. “If she did, I woulda heard, and I didn't. Who'd say such a thing?”

“Scuttlebutt only,” I said evasively.

A few minutes later I wandered over to the Kilt & Thistle Pub. Outside, the owners' redheaded twin boys, Reece and Ross, were lobbing snowballs at each other. Since I spent so much time in the pub, we were on friendly terms. A snowball caught me in the back, and suspecting it wasn't
an accident, I joined in for a few lobs of my own before scooting inside.

Dale, the proprietor, took one look at the evidence on my coat and tried to apologize.

“They're just being boys,” I assured him.

“Their mum is taking them sledding in a bit. A few climbs up the likes o' those hills will wear them down some.”

Still determined to eat lightly today, I ordered more tea while presenting the same questions about Henrietta to several of the regular customers, and with the same results. The dead woman hadn't been around town much, but when she was, she was polite, respectful, and proper.

I wondered how much more evidence we'd need to arrest Florence Dougal for the murder of Henrietta McCloud. It was amazing how much proof was required in these cases. Just because she had a motive, the means, and plenty of opportunity didn't mean we'd get a warrant. My boss was probably working on the finer details right now.

Something concrete like fingerprints, DNA, a witness, or a confession would be required to proceed. Most likely a witness to the murder would have come forward by now. We'd have to wait and hope for fingerprint or DNA evidence. On that front, I wasn't nearly as positive. And a confession was the least likely.

At loose ends and not feeling very productive, I decided to relieve Sean of his security duty. I drove over, and armed with my laptop to help while away the hours, I found Vicki's main man in a small waiting area across the hall from Katie's room where it was easy to keep an eye on her door. Sean was eating bakery from a plate on a counter
and drinking coffee from a disposable cup. Life as a bodyguard wasn't all that rough.

“Are Katie's parents here?” I asked, as I watched a nurse wearing a navy blue tunic and navy trousers enter Katie's room with a stethoscope around her neck.

“No, some bossy head nurse came by early this morning and scolded them fer botherin' the girl. ‘She needs her rest,' says that one, and she's not tae be disobeyed. The parents haff been by her side since they were called, even though Tainwick isn't that far off, and now she's out o' the woods and tae go home tomorrow, they went off like they were ordered.” Sean finished a cinnamon roll and helped himself to another. “That nurse is a real battle-axe, if ye ask me.”

“Anything new on your end?” I asked. “Have you heard anything?”

“Nothin'. What brings ye by? I was hopin' ye'd haff news that I've been let off this hospital floor or that a murderer is in custody. Or that a robber's been apprehended. Something tae give me a free day.”

“Not anything nearly as big as a criminal in custody.” I went on to tell him that Vicki missed him terribly and that he was free to leave for the farm. “I'll fill in for you until Katie is released tomorrow.”

“That would be swell,” he said with a big grin. “I'll be back in a crack if ye need me, but this assignment is one tae put ye tae sleep. Don't count on seein' any action. Have ye informed the inspector o' your decision?”

“No, but I will shortly.”

“All right then. Would ye like tae borrow my baton tae reassure yerself?”

He turned to display the black club resting in a holster
on his side. As far as I knew, this was a new addition to his wardrobe.

“No, thank you, I'll be fine.” I couldn't see myself using a baton on anybody. The pepper spray I carried would do the trick in a dangerous situation. Besides, I didn't expect one.

With that, Sean made a dash for the elevator, almost colliding with the nurse exiting Katie's room. A few minutes later, I peeked into my charge's room and found her asleep. I settled at a table in the waiting room, facing the hallway and her room, powered up my laptop, and considered working on
Hooked on You
, something I'd determined to avoid for the short term. Now here I was—back to writing. Or rather, thinking about writing.

The biggest problem with taking a few days off from the novel is that I lose forward momentum and have to backtrack, refreshing my memory, which hasn't been serving me as well as it should. I was past the dreaded middle, where it's so easy to let up on the conflict, which can be a death knell if the reader's interest wanes. That's the reason for plenty of additional sexual tension and several turning points throughout to keep the reader guessing. At the current stage, it was up to me to give Jessica and Daniel some final dark moments before a joyful resolution. That was the beauty of romance novels. They always had happy endings.

If all went as planned, I'd have the first draft finished by the end of the year and then a long winter in Chicago to make revisions.

The thought of Chicago reminded me of Ami. E-mails had been few and far between with both of us busy. Briefly I considered sending one to her, except not much had
happened since my last update. She already knew about the tasting and the murder. With no new developments to report, and not much in the way of progress on the novel, what could I say of interest? Then I remembered that I hadn't responded to her last e-mail.

Procrastinating, which was a particular talent of mine, I reread it and paused at Ami's reference to the invitation confusion. That really had been a mess, a minor one considering the larger picture that night, but at the time it had seemed huge. Then to discover it had been a big manipulation by Bridie Dougal . . .

Something about Ami's e-mail bothered me. I went back and reread the one I'd sent that prompted her reply.

Nowhere had I mentioned the invitation mix-up.

So how had she known? Unless she was communicating with someone on this side of the pond. Leith? Certainly not. Jamieson? I couldn't imagine those two becoming pen pals. Vicki, then. Which struck me as very strange, especially since neither of them had mentioned their communications to me.

Should I say something to Vicki? But if she wanted me to know, wouldn't she have told me? Did this explain her reaction when I'd popped in unannounced? Had I almost caught her passing e-mails behind my back?

The immature little girl who resides inside me struggled not to be hurt at the thought that my two best friends were getting close. But they didn't tell me. Didn't they want to include me anymore?

The big girl in the room popped up and snorted, giving the floor to the woman, who wisely decided to let it go. For now. There had to be a logical explanation.

The clanging of metal food trays and squeaking of approaching wheels brought me back to the present moment. I caught a flash of navy blue, the standard hospital uniform, and soon after rose to check on Katie. She was sitting up with a tray in front of her. When she spotted me, she smiled.

“I thought I'd check on you,” I said, not mentioning that we'd been keeping tabs on her round the clock.

“I can go home in the morn.”

“I heard and that's great news. Well, eat your meal. I'll stop in again later.”

“No, please. I'm not very hungry. Keep me company.”

“Only if you eat while we talk. I had something earlier,” I lied. Unless I counted the toast at the inn. The few pieces of remaining bakery in the waiting room were going to have to hold me over until morning unless I hit up some vending machines later or made a run for the snack shop. I hadn't thought this through very carefully. A change of clothes would have been smart. And a small overnight bag.

“My parents are coming in the morning tae collect me,” Katie said. “That head nurse shooed them off, so they went back tae Tainwick fer the night.”

“They must be relieved. Do you remember what happened?”

Ignoring her food tray, Katie told me what she knew about the assault, which wasn't much other than she'd heard a sound and gone to investigate, and that was the last she remembered until she woke up here. It only confirmed the small amount of information I already had acquired from her friend Gayle.

“The night o' the tasting, Bridie Dougal suggested that you and I get together,” Katie said, picking at her food after
my insistence, pushing it around with her fork. One of the hospital staff in the navy blue uniform was straightening up in the bathroom as we talked, proving that there was no such thing as privacy in a hospital. Or any real rest.

“She did, did she, and why is that?” I said with a light laugh. “And just so you're aware, she's a bit of a troublemaker.”

Katie laughed along. “I gathered that. High drama and all. When we were deciding on the menu for the tasting, I realized what a character she is. When I told her about the book I hoped tae write one day, using actual stories from the Highlands, she thought you might be inspiration for me. You're actually published!”

“Not yet.” I went on to explain about my work and gave her a tentative timeline for publication. “Next summer,” I said. “But what I do and what you are thinking of doing are very different types of writing. I doubt that I'd be helpful.”