Dressed to Kilt (17 page)

“Go ahead, Sean,” Vicki said.

“I'm hear tae officially relieve ye o' yer duty as special constable,” he said, solemnly. “And I am requiring the return o' yer warrant card and any other equipment that is the property o' the Scottish government.”

He'd said it so professionally, so coldly, that I was taken aback.

“It's routine,” Vicki pointed out, not looking me in the eye.

“Really?” I said in disbelief, glancing from Sean to Vicki and back to Sean. Then I fumbled in my coat pocket and produced the card that I'd carried to identify myself as a part of the law enforcement team. Apparently my membership had expired.

“Anything else ye should be returnin'?” Sean said.

“That's all,” I lied, refusing to give up the pepper spray I'd been approved to carry, wondering why my
termination hadn't been handled privately. Although then I probably would have cried. Here, in the pub, I intended to keep a stiff upper lip.

Sean took the card and slid it into his shirt pocket. “Now ye can go back tae a regular life.”

“Yes,” I muttered.

I saw concern in Vicki's eyes as she leaned forward, speaking softly so only those at our table could hear, “Besides, it's time we found your father,” she said.

It was the last thing I expected, and more than I felt capable of handling. Especially from this gathering of friends. Instinctively, I attempted to rise, tears threatening to erupt, but Leith kept steady pressure on my shoulders.

“At least hear Vicki out,” he said, his voice as firm as his grasp. Music started up in the background, not especially intrusive, just enough to give us some privacy. Those who had been following our interchange determined that their eavesdropping was at an end. They went back to their own drinks and settled down to their own business. But the damage had been done. I'd been publicly humiliated. By friends, no less.

All I wanted was an escape route, but I wasn't going anyplace surrounded by this determined bunch, so I nodded, as though I had a choice.

“Ye might call this an intervention,” Sean announced to me.

“Sean.” Vicki shot him a look that said she could handle things just fine on her own, that this was a delicate situation and he should step down.

He understood her because he stood up, hitched his trousers with importance, and said, “Now that my part here is finished, I best get back tae me station.”

“What station is that?” I asked, wondering what errand the inspector had assigned to Sean and if it had to do with Henrietta's murder case.

“I'll see you later,” Vicki said to him before he could respond. I had the impression she wasn't going to let him.

“Good luck tae ye all,” Sean said, ignoring me.

“To explain, I need to go back to the beginning,” Vicki said once he'd gone. “Which might take a while. If you promise to listen and not try to run off, Leith can sit down at the table and give his legs a rest.”

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, not one bit fine.

But Leith removed his hands from my shoulders and sat down across from me. I glared at each of them in turn, expressing my extreme displeasure with them.

“It begins with Ami Pederson,” Vicki said, “and why you really came to Glenkillen in the first place.”

“To do research on the Highlands,” I told her even though she knew that perfectly well. “Ami had been to Glenkillen and liked it well enough to recommend it. She thought Glenkillen was the perfect setting.”

“Yes, that's true, but there was more to it than that.”

“And how would you know?” I said, sounding childish, even to myself. “You weren't part of my conversations with Ami.”

“I know this because she and I began communicating through e-mails a few months ago, in October. We were, and are, concerned about you.”

So the two of them had ganged up, for whatever reason, for my “own good,” as they probably told each other to justify the deception. The thought that my two friends had plotted behind my back made me feel defensive and manipulated. I crossed my arms and waited for whatever was to come with a closed mind. My expression must have been thunderous because Vicki looked over at Leith, her face expressing doubt.

It's way too late
, I thought, deciding our friendship was teetering on the brink.

Leith, as though reading my mind, winked at me. What was that? Some sort of reassurance?

“Don't make light of this,” I warned him before pointedly looking away.

“You and Ami have been such good friends for so long,” Vicki continued, “that she knows all about your history, and she came up with the idea to send you here, specifically to Glenkillen, not only to research the Highlands for the series you're writing, but with the hope that you'd reconcile with your father's family. With the Elliotts.”

“Are you telling me that some of them are here in Glenkillen? You knew this and didn't tell me?” My best friends had turned on me. Now I understood Vicki's furtive behavior recently.

Vicki shook her head. “No, not in Glenkillen, but close by in a village called Applefary. A few Elliotts still live in that area, and Ami wanted you to at least meet them. In fact, so do I. You came all this way, from the US to Scotland,
and I think it's appropriate that you visit your ancestral home.”

“And what about
him
?” I was determined to see this through without breaking down or showing my crazy side, since I was perfectly aware that I had issues when it came to my father. Ones that I'd happily refused to acknowledge. Just the way I liked them. Buried out of sight.

If it had only been Vicki with me and in a far less public arena, I most certainly would have vented and shown my dark side. She had no business dredging up what I didn't want dredged up. But with Leith sitting directly across from me, with those beautiful blues gazing at me, I tried to appear as normal as possible under the circumstances. Was that why he was here? So I wouldn't feel comfortable letting it all loose?

“I did a lot of digging and haven't been able to locate Dennis Elliott.” Vicki refused to hold my gaze, and that made me think there was more to come.

“And?” I pressed. “What else?”

“I've been putting a lot of effort into finding your father, without a single lead. It's like he disappeared off the map. I haven't been able to place him on a flight back to the States, either.”

“Because he didn't go back, that's why you can't find his departure,” I said, exasperated. “If you really want to know where he is, why don't you ask the Elliotts you located in Applewhatever?”

“Applefary. I thought that would be crossing the line.” As though she hadn't already crossed it. “We could visit them together, though, and ask those questions.”

“What's so surprising about his disappearance? It isn't
exactly sudden. He left us for good. Why come back to the States when he could hide out here? He abandoned my mother to deal with her MS without his support. He left me, a six-year-old kid. What part of ‘I don't want anything to do with him' do you not understand?

“Besides,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “These Elliotts probably don't know where he is, either. He's hiding someplace where no one will ever find him!”

My voice squeaked. I'm sure my face was the color of a tomato. So much for appearing normal and well adjusted in front of Leith. Vicki didn't know what to say.

It was Leith's turn. “It was a terrible thing he did, and nobody expects ye tae forgive him or tae forget. It's only that yer own mum is gone and it doesn't appear as though ye have any family left in the States tae fall back on. Everybody should have some family tae call their own, and here ye are only a few steps from some o' yours and ye refuse tae acknowledge them. It's like blamin' the whole lot o' Germans fer Hitler's actions. There, is that a powerful enough analogy tae compare yer father tae Hitler?”

“Close,” I said, sure that I was pouting.

“If ye go back without so much as a wee peek, you'll regret it one day.”

I was angry with all of them. Leith for being the voice of reason. Sean and the inspector for the cold manner in which they'd stripped me of my constable position. Ami and Vicki for colluding behind my back. I even resented Bridie Dougal for starting all this by knowing my grandfather and wanting to share her memories.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. One part of me still wanted to resist. The other part argued that my friends
couldn't all be wrong. Yet they hadn't lived my life, either, hadn't walked in my shoes.

Silence descended on our table. I listened to the background music; from the melody I could tell it was one of the standard Scottish ballads—a dramatic story of war, love, and betrayal.

“I still have ten days left,” I said, mentally counting my remaining days in Scotland. December twenty-second was approaching quickly.

“And you have no other obligations,” Vicki pointed out, brightening as she sensed my capitulation. “Instead of investigating crime, you can investigate your family. And I'll help you, be right there with you, that is if you want me to.”

“And I'm offerin' my
services
as well,” Leith said with a teasing double meaning.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I told them. Tomorrow was another day. Putting them off would give me time to sleep on it. And if necessary, concoct more reasons to get out of it.

“What's wrong with today?” Vicki countered, guessing my intention.

“You drive a hard bargain,” I told her. “And you're pushing your luck, I might add.”

“The day is still young,” Leith said, siding against me, which was becoming the norm.

“What do you two have in mind?” I asked, resigned.

“We'll start with Bridie Dougal,” Vicki answered. “Since she knew your grandfather personally.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And you knew that how?”

Vicki had the grace, which arrived way late in my opinion, to finally squirm with discomfort.

“Well?” I prodded.

“Bridie phoned me and told me about her own connection to the Elliott family, and we sort of came up with a plan.”

“Did you now.” I should have known Bridie was involved. The old woman was still scheming, manipulating everybody around her. She'd most likely go to her grave with a few unfinished maneuvers up her sleeve.

“We have an invitation from her for tea and sandwiches,” Vicki announced. “In fact, we'll be a little late.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

It appeared that Bridie wasn't the only one who could engineer a coup. Vicki was a skilled operator also.

“I need to make a stop at the cottage,” I said, thinking about the sketch of the Elliott crest and motto and how I might as well present it at the inquisition.

“Bridie lives between the village and the farm,” Vicki reasoned. “We'd have to drive right past her house. And it's starting to snow. What's so important that it can't wait until another time?”

“I suppose it can wait.”

“Do ye need more o' my help?” Leith said to Vicki.

“I can manage.”

He turned to me. “I'm not much fer lady's teas,” he explained with obvious relief. “I'll come by later tae see how ye're doin'.”

A few minutes later as we left the Kilt & Thistle together, I could feel a roomful of eyes following us out the door.

To say that my ego had been bruised by the confrontation at the pub would be an understatement. As I drove to the distillery with Vicki following behind, all I really wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and lick my wounds. I'd been summarily dismissed from the police force without an explanation. The thing that hurt the most was the way it had been done. So publicly. And worse, the inspector didn't even make an appearance and handle the situation himself. I thought we'd been friends. I'd been wrong.

At least I had my own car in case I needed to make a quick getaway.

The setting of the Dougal manor house was as majestic as the first time I'd seen it, with snow covering the extensive exterior grounds like a fluffy blanket. I could only imagine how beautiful it would be in the spring and summer months.

The only difference today was that the lady of the house didn't greet Vicki and me at the door. Instead it was opened
by Florence Dougal. And the greeting was hardly enthusiastic. I didn't blame Florence. We'd parted company on hostile terms. Not only that, I'd been blatantly obvious that I thought she was a major suspect. How wrong I'd been about that.

I'd made two bad judgment calls in a short period of time. First in suspecting Florence of murder, and second in believing that the inspector respected me.

Now, I made a show of reconciliation to the wronged woman by extending my hand and smiling brightly. The return handshake was limp and cold, but at least she shook my hand.

I introduced her to Vicki.

“You're expected,” Florence said, and I was reminded that this had been Henrietta's role until her death.

Florence led us to the sitting room, where a round table decked out with a red, white, and gold tablecloth had been set for five. Bridie and Patricia Martin were already seated when we joined them, and I introduced Vicki to Patricia and Bridie, who already had a relationship of sorts with my friend via their phone conspiracy. Florence, after taking our coats, also joined us.

What was supposed to be an intimate cozy chat with Bridie about the Elliott clan had turned into an
Alice in Wonderland
tea party. Bridie was the Mad Hatter and I . . . well . . . I was the dormouse.

Why had I allowed myself to be talked into coming?

“I thought it would be nice to get as many of us together as possible,” Bridie said, as Florence continued acting as maid-in-waiting by serving tea. I wondered how Bridie had coerced her daughter-in-law into the subservient role she'd assumed for this tea.

A three-tiered stand in the center of the table held finger sandwiches and bakery items. “Now that Henrietta's murderer has been apprehended, we can begin anew.” The older woman's eyes seemed to watch all of us at once. “But first, let's enjoy our tea. Florence has graciously offered to assist.”

Florence didn't seem one bit gracious.

We sipped strong tea from china teacups and nibbled on a variety of bite-sized sandwiches. Egg salad with cress, smoked salmon with cream cheese, and ham and mustard. We finished with freshly baked scones with clotted cream and jam, lemon macaroons, and raspberry tarts.

The conversation was light throughout the meal, carried mainly by Bridie, and focused on the food on the table and the weather outside. The only mention of anything of substance came from Patricia when she inquired about Katie Taylor's condition.

“Has she fully recovered?” she asked me.

“Sean Stevens says she's been released from the hospital,” Vicki answered after an awkward pause. “And has gone on holiday with her parents, visiting relatives.”

“I had so wanted her tae spend time with Eden,” Bridie said. “She's done extensive research on many of the local families, including the Elliott family, ye know.”

“I didn't,” I said, surprised that it hadn't come up in my brief conversations with the young woman. Then I realized that I never told Katie my full name. She didn't know my last name was Elliott.

“A shame. I should have formally introduced the two of you, but I had so much on my mind that night. She's such a sweet girl. As sweet as these lemon macaroons. What do you
think of them?” And talk turned back to the universally enjoyed topic of food.

When we were through, we retired to the other end of the room to relax on comfortable chairs arranged near a lit fireplace, where talk turned to more current affairs, in particular Janet Dougal.

“I recall thinking that woman was overly brash,” Bridie said.

“Even for an American,” Florence added, staring at me with implied meaning that didn't escape me.

Bridie went on as though she hadn't been interrupted. “But I never imagined she could commit murder over a slight disagreement. I blame myself fer hiding behind Henrietta, fer sending her out as a barrier to keep that dreadful woman away.”

“She seemed nice enough tae me,” Florence said. “The night o' the tasting I got tae know her a bit.”

“Pushy,” Patricia said, “and something about her gave me the impression that she was unbalanced. Eden, none of us are going to blame her actions on her nationality. We have our share of crazies in Scotland as well.”

Henrietta's sister had softened considerably since our prior encounters. She'd been somewhat aloof at the tasting and after the death she'd seemed cold and distant, but today, perhaps since she'd had a few days to adjust to the loss of her sister and with Janet Dougal in custody, Patricia displayed a newfound social awareness and appeared to be appreciating her inclusion in our gathering.

“How did Janet manage to insinuate herself into the tasting group?” I asked, remembering Janet's laments about the snubs she'd received.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Bridie said. “She overheard one of us, I expect. She appeared without an invitation.”

“She forced her way into Gordon's car,” Patricia said. “She'd been lying in wait and pounced.”

“She was a relative,” Florence added. “She
should
have been invited.”

Bridie ignored Florence and went on. “Eden, you work closely with the inspector. What finally led to her downfall? What gave her away?”

Vicki glanced my way as though worried that I might actually answer. But I put her fears to rest quickly. “As far as I know, she hasn't been charged with a crime yet, and as to the finer details . . . I'm no longer a special constable and so am not privy to inside information.”

I felt a small hole in my heart while saying that.

“Just as well,” Bridie quipped. “I've been concerned about yer safety.”

Vicki piped up and hastily added, “Eden is taking some time to enjoy the Highlands before she returns to the States.”

“It's not as though she was ever in any real danger, Bridie,” Florence said, and I suspected that disagreeing with her mother-in-law was an ongoing aspect of their relationship.

Bridie focused on Florence then. “Perhaps you could go about the rest o' yer day now that tea is finished. Thank you kindly fer all yer help.”

Pointedly dismissed, Florence rose, lifted her chin, and left the room. I still hadn't been able to warm up to her. But did I have to? No, I decided, with the time I had left, I'd surround myself with pleasant people.

Bridie snorted, whether with glee or disgust was
debatable. “She thinks I'm punishing her fer the actions o' her son by making her wait on us.” Then she giggled. “Perhaps I am takin' advantage o' her shame fer her actions, but she deserves it. Her son, Hewie, played a mean trick on me. Instead o' holding him accountable, she helped hide his indiscretion. And this during a police investigation.”

“Bridie filled me in on the family drama,” Patricia said.

“At least it's all straightened out now,” Vicki said.

Bridie turned to me. “That musta been what Henrietta wanted tae speak with ye aboot. She musta known the scamp who was behind it and wanted tae share it with ye without my knowledge. She always was one tae protect me. But enough o' this.”

“When are you returning to Edinburgh?” I asked Patricia.

“I'll stay a few more days to finish arrangements,” she said. “Henrietta was a private woman and didn't want any sort of organized gathering. No funeral. No memorial.”

“Henrietta wrote out her last wishes at my insistence,” Bridie said. “When she was given such a short time tae live, I thought she should get her affairs in order. Before tea today, I turned over the sealed letter with her wishes tae Patricia.”

Patricia nodded. “Henrietta wants her ashes spread in certain places that meant the most tae her.”

We all went silent for a period of time as we reflected on the dead woman.

“I found something tucked inside Snookie's health record,” I said, remembering to bring it up.

Bridie brightened. “And how is our little Snookie?”

“She's adjusting.”

“I knew she would, with the right person, and I sensed ye were that person.”

“Yes, well, we are getting on well. Anyway, inside Henrietta's records someone had sketched the Elliott crest and motto on a piece of paper.”

Bridie smiled.
“Fortiter et Recte.”

“Do you remember the sketch?” I asked Bridie. “And who drew it?”

Bridie frowned in concentration. “Not offhand. Can you show it to me?”

If only I'd taken the time to drive to the cottage and get it. “No, but I'll bring it by as soon as possible.”

“I best be off.” Patricia rose. “It's still snowing. The roads will continue to worsen. And I've never been much o' a driver in bad weather.”

After the appropriate good-byes, the three of us stayed to discuss the topic I'd come for.

It turned out that Bridie, clan chieftain of the Dougals, had a passion for the past. In fact, she dwelled there as comfortably and contently as she did in the present, if not more so. One of the characteristics of old age, I imagined, when the current days weren't nearly as interesting as those of old.

“The Elliotts were rustlers,” she told us. “They raided in this area from the thirteenth century all the way into the sixteenth, and were well known fer going south of the border into England and stealing cattle.”

“See how colorful your ancestors were!” Vicki said.

“Ye're the spitting image o' yer grandfather Roddy,” Bridie said, “with yer ginger highlights and those eyes that ye can't tell fer sure if they're blue as the sky or green as grass.
Yer father took after his mum more than his da, but Dennis was a fine specimen o' a man, too, just as handsome, but in a dark, smolderin' sort o' way.”

“Do you have any photos?” Vicki asked.

“Not a one. We had a fire years ago and lost many valuables.”

Vicki didn't give up easily. “Tell us more.”

“Eden, yer mum sat in the exact chair ye're in right this minute, before the fire as we are today. This was before ye were even a glimmer in her eye when they were still newlyweds. We exchanged a few letters early on, we did. She was a lovely girl.”

Suddenly I recalled hearing about that visit. It had been a very long time ago. My mother had told me about the two of them paying a visit to Scotland to meet my father's family. At some point, though, we had stopped speaking of the past.

“They were so much in love,” Bridie mused. “I refused tae believe the gossipmongers when they talked aboot what he'd done. Yer grandfather woulda had something tae say about that, if he'd been alive at the time. Roddy was a perfect gentleman and raised his son tae be one, too. I can't imagine what happened. I guess it's best that Roddy isn't here tae have tae deal with the shame o' it.”

“Do you have any idea where Eden's father is living now?” Vicki asked, refusing to look my way, getting the elephant in the room out in the center.

Bridie appeared startled by the question. “What do ye mean?”

“Eden's father,” Vicki prompted. “Dennis. We thought we might visit him.”

Which wasn't even close to the truth. I hadn't agreed to
that! But it hardly mattered because Bridie piped up and said, “The last time I saw Dennis was thirty-two years ago at his father's funeral. He was leaving fer Chicago that same day. In fact, Dennis told me he was anxious tae get home tae his family.”

My mouth dropped open. “That's impossible.”

“He was in a hurry tae catch his plane,” Bridie insisted.

I shook my head. “But he never came back.”

“That can't be possible,” Bridie went on, “It was many months after the funeral that I heard he'd abandoned yer mother in her time o' need and left her tae cope with her disease and with ye alone. I'm not even sure who told me. Ye know how gossip seems to have a life o' its own and nobody will admit tae startin' it. Yer grandparents weren't alive tae substantiate or deny the truth o' it. The Elliotts still remainin' in the area were distant relatives, scattered, and none that I knew well enough tae speak with on such a delicate matter.”