Mums and Mayhem

by Amanda Flower

  “Are you under house arrest?” I asked.

  “No, but the chief inspector said in no uncertain terms that the MacNish brothers and I weren’t to leave the area. It’s maddening. I have nothing to do.”

  “I suppose you can practice your fiddle.”

  “Even the best instrumentalist can’t practice twelve hours a day, every day,” she said, and took another puff. “Did you find out who killed Barley yet, so we all can go back to our normal lives—or what may be left of them? Granted, for me, it’s not much of a life.”

  “I’m afraid nothing has changed since I saw you last evening.”

  “Bullocks,” she swore. “I’m going to have to walk to the Tesco for another pack of cigs at this rate.”

  “There she is!” a woman cried.

  I turned around just in time to see Gemma lead a charge of six other members of the BMGs.

  “She’s the one that killed our Barley!” one of the BMGs cried. I didn’t think it was Gemma.

  Kenda jumped to her feet. “Omigawd, it’s like a scene out of Games of Thrones.” She tossed her cigarette into the grass, jumped behind me, and used my body as a human shield. “Keep those crazy old bats away from me.”

  Gemma jammed her fists into her hips. “Who are you calling a crazy old bat, you floozy?”

  “You are deranged,” Kenda shouted over my shoulder. “Go get your own life instead of dreaming that you had mine.”

  Gemma made like she was going to lunge forward.

  “Stop! Stop!” I cried.

  Gemma pulled back and glared at me. The ladies behind her did their best to look fierce, but they had a little trouble pulling it off in their flower-printed blouses and cardigans. I noted that the number of BMGs present had dwindled by two-thirds since I saw them yesterday morning by the tour bus, and all the men were gone. I supposed it was just the diehards left.

  “She’s the flower lady,” one of the women in the group said to me.

  Gemma scowled. “You’re friends with this murderess?”

  “No.” I tried to step away from Kenda, but she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. I was her cover, after all.

  “I mean,” I said. “I don’t know that she killed anyone, but we only just met. I don’t know her well. I don’t know any of you well.”

  “Then step aside. You have no reason to protect her. It’s time she gets what she deserves.” Gemma held her fist in the air.

  My eyes widened. Kenda had a point. I wondered if these women were George R. R. Martin fans.

  “I think we all need to take a breath and calm down,” I said. “I know everyone is upset over Barley’s death, and rightly so, but you have to remember, you all and Kenda cared about Barley. Your affection for him should bring you together, not tear you apart.”

  “We care for him,” Gemma said. “She tossed him aside when she didn’t get her way. Barley told me that you broke it off with him because he thought it was unwise for you to play a solo for one of his performances. No one comes to Barley McFee’s concerts to hear an amateur like you.”

  “Amateur?” Kenda shouted directly into my ear. “You nasty old—”

  “Let’s not call each other names,” I said, feeling like an elementary school teacher on the playground. I wouldn’t want to be the teacher for any one of these women.

  The back door of Thistle House opened, and my parents came out. Dad was holding a giant SLR camera, and Mom carried a tote bag and large thermos. It appeared that they were more than ready for their family day out.

  Dad waved at me.

  “If you are looking for the killer,” Kenda cried. “Look no farther than at him! He was the last person to see Barley alive. He killed him!”

  Dad’s mouth fell open as the BMGs circled him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My mother stood in front of my father. “Fiona, what on earth is going on?”

  Kenda stepped away from me. “You know these people?”

  My mother sniffed and gripped her thermos. “We’re her parents.”

  Kenda stared at me as if I had betrayed her in some way. “You used me.”

  I blinked at her. “No, I didn’t.”

  She stepped back. “And to think I trusted you. I told you about Barley and me, and all this time you were just trying to help me because you wanted to protect your father.”

  Mom shook her thermos. “What’s going on here?”

  “He’s the one you should be chasing,” Kenda told Gemma and her cronies. “Not me. He was the last person to see Barley alive. He went into the tour bus after I left.”

  “How can we believe you?” Gemma asked. “We know you’ve lied before.”

  “Ask him,” Kenda said.

  Gemma turned to my father, who stepped out from behind my mother. “Did you see Barley alive on the tour bus?”

  Dad glanced at me before answering. “I did.”

  “Get him!” one of the BMGs shouted.

  The others raised their fists, ready to charge. Not that I knew what they planned to do to my father other than maybe wallop him with their patent-leather pocketbooks.

  “What is going on?” a strong, deep voice asked.

  Everyone turned in the direction of the voice. Chief Inspector Craig stood at the corner of Thistle House with his hands on his hips. The sun was at his back and made him look even larger that his six-five height. His broad shoulders appeared to be a mile wide. The BMGs dropped their hands and stared. If I was being totally honest, I stared too. He was an impressive figure.

  “I asked a question,” Craig said when no one spoke.

  Gemma cleared her throat. “Kenda said this man killed Barley. The BMGs want justice!”

  Craig studied her and everyone standing behind the guesthouse. He briefly met my gaze before moving on to the next person with his penetrating stare. “I am the lead investigator on this case, and I have already spoken to Mr. Knox about why he was in the tour bus with Mr. McFee.” Craig spoke in a measured voice. “Please know that my constables and I are taking this investigation very seriously. At this time, we are not ready to make an arrest. I would advise all of you that harassing others is a good way to find yourselves in lockup for a few hours.”

  Gemma scowled at him and then turned to her friends. “Come on, ladies, we need to get ready for our prayer vigil tonight.” She walked away, her small band of loyal followers behind her.

  Kenda folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. “I hope you consider every suspect the same.”

  “I do, Ms. Bay,” Craig said.

  She glared at me. “Stay away from me.” She stalked off, leaving me standing there with Craig and my parents.

  My mother put a hand to her chest. “My word, the women in Scotland are much more confrontational than the women we’re used to back in Nashville. And that Kenda woman needs to get a bit of etiquette schooling, if you ask me. Her behavior is just shameful.”

  Craig raised his thick eyebrows at me.

  I glanced from him to my parents and back again. “You all met?”

  Mom nodded. “Yes, Chief Inspector Craig had a few minor questions for your father, and we cleared up a little confusion. Didn’t we, Stephen?”

  Dad nodded.

  “I’m glad,” I said. “The inspector is … umm … a good friend of mine.” For whatever reason, I couldn’t just come out and say that Craig and I were dating, not when my father was still a murder suspect.

  Craig smiled, and his white teeth flashed out from behind his dark beard. It was as if he could read my mind.

  “Well, I am glad that you have made a few friends here in Bellewick,” my mother said. “Your father and I met Presha Kapoor yesterday, and she was lovely. She had so many nice things to say about you and Isla. It made me blush as your mother.” She turned to Craig. “Thank you for the rescue from the crowd, Chief Inspector.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Craig said. To my father, he added, “Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions. I know this must be a
difficult time for you, having lost an old friend.”

  Old friend? What did he mean by that?

  My father nodded.

  “Now,” my mother said. “Where’s Isla? I thought we were supposed to be on a family outing.”

  “We are. Isla is already at the manor house. I’ll take you to her.”

  “I do love old houses,” my father said. “The homes back in the U.S. are just not the same level of old as the ones we have here in Scotland. It has been good to be back in my home country.”

  Craig stepped back. “I will leave you all to it.”

  “Mom, Dad, my car is over in the community lot just across the troll bridge. Why don’t you two walk over there? I just need to speak to the chief inspector for a moment.”

  My parents shared a look, but then did as I asked. When they reached the bridge and I knew they could no longer hear me, I turned to Craig.

  He smiled down at me. “I’m your … good friend?”

  “You are my friend,” I said defensively.

  “And that’s all there is to it?”

  “No, you know that it’s more than that.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell your parents?” he asked.

  I held my hands aloft. “I chickened out.”

  He grabbed my hands. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  I looked over my shoulder to see if Mom and Dad could see us.

  “They are on the other side of the village arch. They can’t see us.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that,” I said.

  “Sure.” He chuckled.

  “I will tell them about us,” I said. “I promise. It just didn’t seem like the right time right after you questioned my father about murder.”

  “I suppose that’s fair.”

  “What did Dad say about Barley?” I asked.

  “I think you should ask him.” His eyes creased with concern.

  “You won’t just tell me?” I asked, unable to keep the hurt out of my voice.

  He sighed. “It goes back to college days, and I think it’s something you need to hear from them.”

  College days. That’s when my biological father, Uncle Ian, had decided to give me away. I knew this must be the reason Craig wanted me to hear it directly from my father.

  He lifted my chin with his finger. “Everything will be all right. I don’t think your father killed anyone.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said, but it wasn’t like I was going to let the investigation go now that Craig didn’t seriously suspect my father. I was in too deep. I had to see it through to the end. I knew better than to say any of this to Craig.

  He laughed.

  I sighed. “I had better head over to the car. If I’m here much longer, Mom will send Dad to fetch me. I don’t think he should be alone in Bellewick with the BMGs out to get him.”

  He kissed me lightly on the mouth. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  I knew he would.

  When I reached my Astra, my mother tapped her foot on the gravel lot. “What did you have to speak to the inspector about? Were you asking him about your father?”

  I sighed. “We had better get going. We don’t want to be late.”

  My mother pressed her lips together, but without another word climbed into the car. My dad was already in the back seat. I could already tell this would be a fun drive to Winthrope Manor.

  I drove away from the village, and my mother settled back in her seat. “I’m looking forward to Isla moving back home.”

  I bit my lip to hold back the words on the tip of my tongue.

  “You know that nice Peterson boy at the neighboring farm? He’s always had his eye on Isla. I think he’s still interested. The sooner she gets home, the sooner she can meet up with him again.”

  My father was quiet, but my mother continued to prattle on about Isla’s return to Tennessee. My shoulders deflated the more she talked about it. I wanted to talk to my dad about Barley McFee but decided this wasn’t the right time. It was best to speak to my father about that when Mom wasn’t around. She would be too tempted to answer for him.

  Mom went on to tell us about how great the Peterson boy was. For my mother, I thought the real draw was that he was a farmer and lived in the same community as my parents. I had one guess how this meeting with Seth was going to go. It wasn’t good.

  Guilt flooded me. I should stop my mom. Give her a hint that her machinations and planning weren’t going to go her way. But the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. Goodness, it was awkward. But I just didn’t want to be the one to burst my mother’s dream of her daughter’s return. Besides, I consoled myself, what if Mom was right and she somehow managed to convince Isla to go home? Stranger things had indeed happened.

  The manor house, which was about ten miles outside Bellewick, came into view. It was on a beautiful spot in full view of the craggy rock cliff above the North Sea. The building itself was lovely in an old, crumbling way. It was a flat-faced tan brick affair that rose three stories high. Above the very top floor was a widow’s walk with some of the fencing missing. From the front, the house appeared tall and narrow, but as we came along the side of it, it stretched out the length of a basketball court.

  The driveway from the road that had once been gravel had mostly been retaken by the mountain, and my little Astra bounced and hopped over the tufts of grass that had fought and won their way through the stones.

  “Please do be careful, Fiona. You’re going to give your father a concussion if he bounces off the roof of this car one last time. We should have brought the rental.”

  “I don’t know the way to the manor house,” Dad said from the back seat.

  “Fiona could have driven the rental,” my mother said reasonably.

  “No,” Dad said. “The car rental place was very clear that I was to be the only driver of that car.”

  “Stephen, we would have followed GPS,” she huffed.

  I shifted the car into park in front of the manor. Seth and Isla stood in the front doorway like the lord and lady welcoming us to their home. She had her arm linked through his, and he was wearing a hard hat that I guess was supposed to give him authenticity in his new career choice. The hat was a little too large for his head, so it sat lower than it normally would and made his ears bend down, giving him a Dumbo-like effect.

  “Who is that young man that Isla is touching?” Mom wanted to know.

  By the way my mother said touching, you’d have thought Isla and Seth were making out right in front of her instead of standing there as prim and proper as statues.

  As I had thought before, this wasn’t going to go well … at all.

  I climbed out of the car without a word.

  “Mom, Dad.” Isla beamed at them. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She stepped off the stoop and pulled Seth forward with her. “This is the love of my life, Seth MacGregor, and we are getting married.”

  My mother fainted on the spot.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Mom?” Isla asked in a high-pitched voice.

  Dad and I knelt beside my mother’s prostrate body. She lay on her side and had her left arm flung over her face. She moaned, “What happened?”

  Dad helped her sit up. “You took a spill.”

  Mom shook her head and winced. “I’ve had the most terrible dream that my baby girl was marrying a Scottish man.”

  “It’s not a dream, Mom,” Isla said.

  My mother put her hand over her chest again. “I’m feeling faint again.”

  Isla and I shared a look while our father helped her to her feet.

  Seth clasped his hands in front of him and appeared to be at risk of fainting too.

  My mother turned to me. “Did you know about this? Why didn’t you tell me? If you had told me, we could have done something about this before it got so out of hand.”

  “It’s Isla’s life,” I said. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, and nothing is out of hand. Isla and Seth do love each other.”

  M
om shook her head. “Love is not enough. We know nothing about this man. How do I know he’s the right fit for my youngest daughter?” She turned to me. “I never thought Ethan was right for you.”

  I winced when she mentioned my ex-fiancé.

  “I never thought he was right for you,” she went on. “But you didn’t listen to me. If you had, you could have saved yourself a lot of heartbreak.”

  “Hello,” Isla said. “Seth and I are right here. We can hear everything you say.”

  “I’m glad you can,” Mom said. “It will show you how unhappy I am with everything. Isla, you promised you would come back to the farm.” She pointed to Seth. “Are you moving with her back to Nashville?”

  Seth blinked as if he didn’t know how to answer that.

  “Mom,” Isla said. “I asked Fi to bring you here so that Seth and I could show you his work. I know you worry, but you will see Seth has a good head on his shoulders.”

  No comment.

  Before my mother could argue more, Dad stepped in. “Let’s hear them out. Seth, what is it that you do here?”

  Seth blinked a few times as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. Isla elbowed him in the side.

  “A local fishing merchant, Ferris Brown, bought the manor about a month ago,” Seth blurted out.

  “I know that name,” Dad said. “Ferris owns half the boats in the harbor.”

  Seth nodded. “And he has always wanted to buy and restore Winthrope Manor. He hired me to be part of the construction crew.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes. “Do you have experience in construction?”

  “Unconventional, but yes.” Seth swallowed hard.

  Mom looked like she wanted to ask what unconventional construction experience was, and I was curious to hear that answer too, but just then Ferris and Carver Finley came around the side of the manor house. I had expected to see Ferris there, but Carver was a surprise.