I could understand that. “Was that why Dad was on the tour bus with Barley at intermission?”
She nodded. “Your father went into that tour bus to make amends.”
“When he was there, was Barley still alive?” I asked.
She nodded again. “And I think your father and Barley came to terms with what happened all those years ago. Stephen said it was a good conversation, and he and Barley made plans to meet again before Barley left the village.” She shook her head. “As you know, that didn’t happen.”
No, it had not.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I went with my mother back to the Twisted Fox, and my dad was pacing outside the pub. I walked over to him and gave him a hug. “I love you, Dad.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “I love you, too. You are my daughter and always will be.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he added.
I smiled. “It’s over now, but”—I glanced at the Climbing Rose—“someone needs to tell Isla. She should know.”
Dad straightened his shoulders. “I’ll tell her. Your mom did the hard work by explaining it all to you. The least I can do is tell Isla.”
Mom squeezed my father’s hand. “Knowing how our youngest girl reacts to things, I don’t think you got the easier job at all.”
Dad smiled, kissed her on the cheek, and marched into the flower shop. He looked like a man off to war.
“Phew,” Mom said. “I’m going back into the pub for a pint. Want to come with me?”
“I do, but there’s something I need to check into first.”
She frowned and looked like she was going to ask me what that was, but then she thought better of it and nodded.
After Mom entered the pub, I turned and hurried toward the harbor. I wanted to see if I could catch up with Mick McFee before he left for the day. It was already late afternoon, and I knew the shipyard workers usually called it quits around four if there weren’t any night boats coming into Bellewick Harbor.
As always when I entered the harbor, the smell of sea and fish hit me full in the face. The waters were choppy this afternoon. There were more whitecaps on the sea than there had been the other day. I’d been in Scotland long enough now to recognize a North Sea squall coming in. I hoped it would pass by Bellewick and Duncreigan. It was always hard to tell where the storm would touch down.
Waves hit the dock hard.
“Don’t look so worried, lass,” Ewan said. “The storm is going to the south of us. It will give Dunnottar Castle a wallop, I daresay.”
Ewan was on the oil barrels with his two friends, right where I’d left them the last time I visited the harbor.
“Aye,” Old Milton agreed. “But the castle has stood there for hundreds of years. It will last a hundred more, I wager.”
The man with the one eye nodded in agreement.
“What can we help you with, lass?” Ewan asked.
“Why do you think I need help?”
He laughed. “Because you only come down to the docks when you are looking for someone or something.”
He had a point.
“I heard that Mick McFee worked in the shipyard. I came down to see if he was still here.”
“Aye, he does,” Ewan said. “You want to talk to him, I bet because of the death of his cousin Barley. You’re not the first.”
“The police have been here too?” I asked.
“Chief Inspector Craig was here last morning, and a reporter woman was here too.”
That had to be Trina Graham. It was interesting to hear that she was still in the village. She must really be desperate for this story.
“Did they talk to Mick?”
“Don’t know,” Old Milton said. “We just told them where they could find him, just like we will tell you. He’s in the warehouse next to the beach. That’s where a lot of the shipyard workers wait for boats to come in.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” I turned to go.
“Wait, lass,” Ewan called. “Keep your wits about you when you’re down there. It’s no place for a pretty young thing such as yourself. The men are as gentle as a leather strap.”
I nodded and took his advice to heart. I was certain that the warehouse was not a place Chief Inspector Craig would like me to go, but I had to find Mick McFee to hear what he might know about his cousin’s murder. Besides Trina Graham had gone to the warehouse and spoken with him—or at least tried to; she hadn’t been dressed for that rough crowd, I was sure. But if her cameraman was with her, she hadn’t been alone either. I shoved that last thought into the back of my mind.
Following the directions from the old men, I walked toward the warehouse. It was up on giant concrete pilings, so it seemed to hover over the harbor. I knew it was so high up for the times the tide came in unnaturally high or high waves were brought in by one of the North Sea’s furious storms. I had lived through a couple of those storms now since moving to Scotland, and they were nothing to trifle with.
The giant garage door that led into the warehouse stood open. A clean-shaven man in tan coveralls was folding a giant fishing net in the doorway. He looked up at me. “Are you lost?”
“I’m looking for Mick McFee. Ewan at the docks told me I could find him here.” I didn’t think it could hurt to make it known that someone knew where I was, even if that someone was only Ewan and his friends.
The man looked over his shoulder and shouted back into the warehouse. “McFee, you have another visitor.”
“Who is it?”
The man looked me up and down. “It’s a girl.”
I scowled. Somehow the way he said girl sounded like an insult.
“She’s American,” the man with the net added.
Somehow he made that sound even worse than being a girl.
Mick McFee came out of the shadows of the warehouse. He wore the same tan coveralls as the first man and removed a pair of gray work gloves. The gloves’ fingers were stained with a brick-colored substance. I was afraid to ask what it was.
“You again? Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around?”
“I just have a few more questions about Barley,” I said.
The other man watched our exchange with interest.
Mick threw his gloves on the dirty concrete floor of the warehouse. “When will I be rid of that man?”
“Mick, why don’t you and your lady friend go for a little walk and chat?” his coworker suggested. “I can watch to see when the boss comes back.”
“And who’s the boss?” I asked.
“Ferris Brown. He owns more of the harbor than God,” the other man said.
Mick scowled, but then he said, “If Brown comes back, tell him I’m taking my fifteen.”
The other man nodded.
To my relief, instead of walking deeper into the warehouse, Mick came out. I wasn’t about to follow him into those dark aisles of shipping containers.
I followed him to the edge of the rock-covered beach. He stopped and crossed his arms over his coveralls.
I thought it was best to get right to the point. “Why do you think Barley owed you something?”
He glared at me. “Because I’m family. Family takes care of family. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. It goes back to the time of the clans here in Scotland. You’re American. You wouldn’t understand legacy or any of that.”
I didn’t say that I certainly did understand legacy. I was living with it every day at Duncreigan.
“And that’s what you wanted to tell him,” I said.
“Yes, it was, but I never got to speak to him. I could never get close enough. He was either with his band or surrounded by those old-lady groupies all the time.” He scowled at me. “I know you think I killed him, but as you can see, the police haven’t arrest me. I bet you wonder why.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I didn’t do it, and I have witnesses to prove it. I was at the pub’s booth grabbing a pint when
he was being murdered. I needed a little alcohol to build up my strength to talk to him.”
“Oh,” I said, wishing he’d told me this sooner so I wouldn’t have walked down to the creepy warehouse to find him.
“Both the Indian man who owns the pub and Seth MacGregor told the police they were helping me. I was memorable because I made quite a fuss over the ales they had. I didn’t like the selection and didn’t think I should have to walk all the way down to the Twisted Fox to get the drink I wanted. They were there selling beer and ale and should have had what I liked.”
I nodded as if I was agreeing with him, which I wasn’t. Mostly I was just making a mental note to ask Raj if what he told me was the truth.
“If that’s all, I need to get back to work. I don’t have Barley’s money, and I still have to make a living.” He stalked away in the direction of the warehouse.
His last comment sparked a new question in my mind. Who had gotten Barley’s money?
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I walked into the Climbing Rose a few minutes later, Isla was fit to be tied, as my maternal grandmother used to say.
She paced back in forth in the middle of my shop. “When were you going to tell me we are only half sisters?”
Seth was also in the shop. I wondered if Ferris Brown knew how long Seth’s delivery to the village was taking. I had a feeling that his career in construction would be short-lived if he didn’t focus a little less on my sister and a little more on work.
I winced. If she was this angry at me over the great family secret, I could only guess how well she’d taken it when our father told her.
I removed my coat and hung it on the coat-tree by the door. “I haven’t known that long, and I only got the full story today right before Dad came in here and told you.”
“And that makes it okay?” she asked. “You should have told me the moment you thought something strange was going on with them.”
“I knew you would get upset, like you are, and I wanted all the facts beforehand, so we could discuss it calmly.”
“I can’t believe our mother had a one-night stand with Uncle Ian. It’s so disgusting.”
I frowned at her. “Let’s not go over the particulars, okay? What’s done is done. I’m your sister, your only sister. That’s all that matters.”
“It was a pretty crazy story,” Seth said.
I shot him a look. He really shouldn’t get in the middle of this conversation. “Don’t you have somewhere you are supposed to be?” I asked.
“Not really. Winthrope Manor is waiting for permits, so there’s not much I can do. Ferris told me to take my time. He’s a great boss.”
I frowned at him. “Isla, I’m sorry if you’re hurt. Honestly, I was hurt too.”
“You should be hurt.” She crossed her arm. “You’re not who you always thought you were. I would be in the middle of a full-blown identity crisis.”
Her assessment didn’t make me feel any better.
I couldn’t think of anything to say in reply to that, so I turned to Seth. “Since you’re here, Seth, I have a question for you.”
His eyes went wide. Seth knew I was watching him and constantly assessing if he was the right guy for my little sister, so I supposed there were a whole host of questions he didn’t want to answer about himself.
“I was just talking to Mick McFee. He said you and Raj supplied him an alibi for the time of the murder because he was complaining about the ale choices you had at the booth. Is that true?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Seth said, relieved. “He was a real pain in the—”
I held up my hand. “We get the idea.”
There went another suspect off my list. Kenda was still at the top, but Dad had seen Barley alive after she spoke with him. Could she have circled back after Dad made amends with Barley? I supposed it was possible. She would have been hanging with the backstage crew and musicians waiting to go back on. The MacNish brothers would be the ones who could vouch for her. I added them to my list of people to talk to again.
“Can I leave now?” Isla asked. “My shift here technically ended an hour ago, and I’m working at the pub tonight. I could use a break.” She looked up at Seth. “And we need some time together. Now that Seth is working so many hours, I hardly ever see him more than six hours a day.”
I nodded absent-mindedly. My thoughts were all jumbled together—my parents, Barley’s murder, the dead garden. I could use some time alone too. When Isla was in the shop, she talked nonstop. Sometimes I liked the company of her chatter, but there were other times, like this, when I needed quiet to think.
Isla grabbed her purse and coat from the workroom, and as she walked to the front door, she grabbed Seth’s hand and dragged him along behind her. He willingly went. There might be quite a few things about Seth that I worried about in respect to my sister, but I never doubted for a moment his devotion to her.
“Bye Fi,” she chirped as the front door closed.
I sighed and went into the workroom. I had only a couple of hours left until the store closed for the evening. This late in the year when the store closed at five, it would be almost dark outside.
I checked my online account and saw that a new flower order had come in while I was out. I smiled, happy for the distraction. I was so engrossed in this new arrangement, which was for a retirement party the next day, that I didn’t hear the rose-shaped bell on the front door ring.
Someone cleared their throat.
I yelped and threw the bunch of eucalyptus leaves I had been holding into the air.
Craig held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You were just so focused on your task that I couldn’t seem to get your attention.”
With a pounding heart, I gathered up the leaves.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I set the leaves on my worktable in a makeshift pile and removed my gardening gloves. “No, I’m fine. You just shortened my life-span by one year.”
He came into the workroom. “What is this arrangement for? It’s beautiful.”
“Are you trying to flatter me, Chief Inspector, to make up for scaring me half to death?”
He smiled. “Is it working?”
I rolled my eyes. “The arrangement is for a retirement party.”
“I would think flowers that beautiful would be better suited for a wedding,” he said.
I stepped away from him and tried not to read too much into that comment. I didn’t know if I liked or disliked the fact that Craig was thinking about wedding flowers. After my disastrous engagement, weddings were still a sore spot for me.
“I was just having a chat with Mick McFee, and he told me that you were down at the harbor warehouse.” Craig raised his brow.
“I wasn’t just there. It’s been a few hours.”
He rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t be wandering around alone at the shipping docks. A lot of the men down there aren’t the good kind. What if something happened and no one knew where you were?”
“Ewan and his pals knew I was there.”
He frowned. “And how is that makeshift group of old gents supposed to save you if someone is about to knock you over the head?”
“No one threatened to knock me over the head,” I said.
“Yet,” he muttered. He rubbed his eyes, and I realized for the first time how tired he must be. This murder investigation wasn’t like the others. He was dealing with the press too, which reminded me of Trina.
“Ewan said Trina Graham had been down to the warehouse as well,” I said.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I am aware how Trina is thoroughly investigating the case. I have five voice mails from her on my phone right now.”
“Oh! Did she learn anything new?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She just wants an update on the investigation, which I plan to avoid giving her for as long as possible.”
I nodded and changed the subject. “I had a conversation with my parents about Uncle Ian.” I be
gan to finish the arrangement as we talked.
His brow drooped in concern. “How did that go?”
“It went well.” I gave him the short version, including the part about how my father knew Barley.
Craig nodded. “When I interviewed him, he told me he was in a band with Barley when they were at university. It surprised me that you never mentioned it.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Clearly.” He nodded and sat on a stool. “If you don’t mind, I’m just going to sit here for a moment and watch you work. I need to head back to the station in Aberdeen, but I think a little rest is in order. I like watching you in your element.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired, and because you look so happy anytime you are working with plants. You get this little serene smile on your face. I love to see it.”
I blushed and focused on the flowers in front of me. I worked quietly for a few minutes. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but he looked so exhausted that I held my tongue. When I looked up from my arrangement again, I saw that his right cheek rested on his arms on the table and he was fast asleep.
I put the finishing bow on the arrangement and tucked it into the refrigerated case in the back room. After I cleaned up the worktable, I knew it was time to close up the store, but Craig looked so peaceful sleeping there that I didn’t have the heart to wake him.
I tucked a stray hair behind his ear, just as my mother had done to me earlier in the day. He sighed in his sleep.
His cell phone, which was sitting by his hand on the worktable, rang. Craig jumped up on his stool, wide awake. “Chief Inspector Craig,” he barked into the phone. “What? All right … all right … I’m still in the village … I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and hopped off the stool.
“What is it?” I asked.
Mums and Mayhem Page 20
