When Murder Comes Home

by Shana Frost

  With renewed energy Aileen took her laptop into the kitchen and settled at the kitchen counter – the perfect place to keep an eye on things as she worked.

  The ‘Grants’ huddled together like a pride of lions in the drawing room. Jean Beaulieu had returned downstairs while she'd been gone – Aileen saw him and Martha Smith each reading a book in the library.

  Staring at her laptop, Aileen considered logistics for last night’s murder first.

  If a wife left the room before going to bed at night and didn’t return for a while, wouldn’t the husband get suspicious? She thought about John Cook. A man like that would definitely get curious about his wife’s whereabouts. But he was downstairs, alibied by two people.

  She fired off a quick message to Callan.

  Where did John think Susan was? She went to the other room. Wouldn’t he get suspicious?

  When no response came, Aileen rolled her eyes. Callan used technology like an old man; he considered gadgets his foe.

  She set to work on the belt again. There were several such studded belts in production so it wasn’t a one-off piece, unless Callan had missed something, although they certainly weren’t sold in as many numbers as the normal belts everyday mortals wore.

  After what felt like ages, Aileen rubbed her tired eyes and checked the clock. It was mid-afternoon already. She’d been running around in circles with that blasted belt, like a hamster on a wheel, heading nowhere.

  Raking her mind, she thought about her first trip to the station after the murder and recalled seeing Richard Grant, aka Percy Winston, with Jean Beaulieu. She’d forgotten to mention it to Callan.

  She reassessed the scene in her mind. They’d appeared to be in a deep serious conversation, but based on the security footage she’d checked, they’d left the inn at different times and returned separately, again at different times.

  A chance run-in? Her gut doubted it.

  Aileen drummed her fingers on her desk, thinking, before her phone rang, jolting her back to reality.

  Callan’s voice boomed down the line. ‘Can Siobhan take visitors?’

  ‘Do you want to meet her?’ Aileen didn’t want to imagine the disappointment in her grandmother’s face when she told her about the recent disastrous events at Dachaigh.

  Aileen had failed her grandmother – failed as guardian of the inn her grandmother had built from nothing.

  ‘She’d be the best candidate to tell us information about the ring.’

  Aileen knew he was right and called her grandmother as soon as he rang off. She only hoped Siobhan would forgive her when she found out what was going on.

  Thankfully, Siobhan’s nurse picked up, giving her a brief stay of execution.

  ‘Siobhan’s napping. She spends half the night hooked on to the TV like she doesn’t need her sleep, and I know she’s been knocking back a few fingers of whisky whenever she gets the chance,’ Nancy, the nurse, whispered the last part.

  Aileen had to laugh at that. She had no doubt Siobhan had made a resourceful friend – someone who could smuggle her whisky in regularly. Her gran was a rebel that way.

  Without drawing out her luck or risking her grandmother waking up, she set up an appointment to visit the next day.

  They’d find out what Siobhan had to say about all this.

  Chapter 12

  The rest of the day passed without a hitch. Going to bed that night, Aileen hoped there wouldn’t be any new surprises.

  Her car had been towed by the mechanic, but it would take at least a week for her new tyres to be delivered to Loch Fuar; they weren’t the sort the garage kept in stock. Despite that small annoying detail, Aileen assured herself the night would be a peaceful one. Peace meant no thieves, false alarms or murders, she specified, if luck was listening.

  Everyone felt on alert, and even her obscure guests seemed to be keeping an eye out for suspicious activities.

  With that knowledge, Aileen shut her eyes and willed for sleep.

  She got what she wanted, because the next time she opened her eyes, it was day.

  Unlike her content smile, the day didn’t share her optimism. Compared to the previous few days, the sun had suddenly turned shy, hiding behind thick grey clouds.

  Isla turned up with fresh bread and helped fry eggs and bacon for breakfast. Aileen stirred savoury baked beans on the stove. ‘I hope Gran’s fine.’

  Isla laughed. ‘She’s as healthy as a horse! The only reason she stays in that place is because of the luxury of having someone at her beck and call.’

  Aileen agreed. ‘She is ninety! Staying so far away in a small village with limited medical facilities isn’t the best choice for her.’

  Isla winked. ‘Age is just a number.’

  It was surprising to see all her guests at the breakfast table. The air was still solemn, as it had been for all meals. Well, except for the one happy dinner they’d shared the night before the first murder. That joyful pretence had been shattered like a thin plane of glass.

  John Cook had heavy pouches under his eyes, eyes that looked hollow. They hadn’t been overly expressive before, beyond their vigilant gaze, but now they were just a deep abyss with no substance.

  The so-called Grants sat quietly too. Jake rubbed circles on his wife’s back, avoiding eye contact with his parents, but Samantha and Richard made no attempt to start a conversation.

  Louis Legrand strode in and surveyed the assembled guests. He gave them all a hard look and took a seat as far from them as he could.

  Jean Beaulieu followed on his heels, his stubby face downcast.

  Martha Smith was the last to make an appearance, but she looked better than she had the last couple of days, although the laughter in her eyes and the skip in her step had long deserted her.

  One of them was a murderer, Aileen thought. And had stolen her grandmother’s ring.

  Who could it be?

  The clock chiming the hour pulled Aileen from her deep thoughts.

  She cleaned up the kitchen and got down to the rest of her innkeeper duties.

  A while later, Legrand walked up to her, hands in his pockets.

  After a brief assessment of the kitchen, he seemed to look at Aileen down his nose. He took a superior poise that sharpened his chiselled features.

  ‘Jean and I don’t want anyone to clean our rooms.’

  ‘So the Do Not Disturb card on your door says.’

  ‘Just clarifying.’

  Aileen hadn’t entered into their room since the couple had shown up. The cleaning crew hadn’t entered either. Aileen had guessed their need for privacy was far greater than their need for clean sheets.

  Thinking of housekeeping, Aileen thought about the other rooms. She had a service do the cleaning for her – maybe she could ask them if they’d found anything suspicious.

  Later, when Aileen spoke her thoughts aloud to Callan, he told her not to bother. They were on their way to see Siobhan. Callan had insisted he drive there instead of taking the rare train into town.

  ‘Already asked the cleaning company. They found nothing out of the ordinary. And they say room two has a perpetual DND on their door.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the couple who trades in jewellery.’

  Callan nodded. ‘Ah yes. Do you only lodge adults? You’ve got no family staying with young children.’

  Aileen waved her hands. ‘Nothing like that. The current guests booked via the new website.’

  ‘No one cancelled?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So all your ten guests randomly booked their accommodation. And are you sure they’ve never met each other?'

  ‘As far as I know, they're all strangers. Except for their spouses, that is.’ Aileen pointed at Callan, ‘The Grants are a family.’

  Callan nodded, ‘I had considered that. None of your guests were staying alone and the killings looked to be a single person’s job, as far as the death blow was concerned. Would a spouse know?’

  Callan caressed his scruff before continuing, ‘Did y
ou find anything out about the belt?’

  Aileen huffed out a breath. ‘Only that too many people have idle cash to buy diamond-studded belts they’ll probably hide behind their shirts.’

  Callan cracked up at that. He seemed to be in an unusually good mood.

  ‘What did Susan tell John that he didn’t think it was unusual for his wife to leave their room?’ Aileen asked.

  ‘She told him she was going to the library. So he told me.’

  That was a plausible explanation. The inn’s library stood away from the kitchen and drawing-room area. So when John came down that night, he wouldn’t have seen her, and he’d only have known she wasn’t there if he’d purposefully gone to check.

  Callan continued with his explanation. ‘She did that often, according to Mr Cook. Ms Knight loved to read. Apparently she’d been reading a mystery and was eager to know whodunnit.’

  They both fell into silence as Callan’s rugged car sped across the Highland landscape. There were almost no other cars on the road.

  Tall, ancient mountains lined either side of the winding road. Loch Fuar peeked out from behind the mountains and then disappeared as they left the loch behind.

  A stream ran with them before parting ways a short while later.

  The blue sky had disappeared, as if signalling something disastrous approached. Aileen hoped it wasn’t a storm. She didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘Why’d ye leave the big town then?’ Callan’s gruff voice shattered the silence.

  ‘Huh?’ Aileen took a while to catch on. ‘It’s quite the story.’

  Almost an embarrassing one, Aileen knew.

  ‘We have a while to drive yet. And it’s interesting. Ye had a good job,’ Callan pushed.

  Aileen considered. She’d known Callan had looked her up. Besides, a partial truth wouldn’t hurt.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Well, it was a big city, as you said. I spent almost a decade there but wasn’t satisfied with life.’

  Callan waited for her to continue.

  ‘Too many people, too many cars, noise, pollution and the cost of living. I thought it would be a good idea to leave it all behind and come to Loch Fuar.’

  ‘Come to Loch Fuar to run an inn?’ Callan enquired. He was egging her on, a dash of disbelief in his voice.

  Aileen looked over at the detective. His face was drawn in a concentrated frown but he wasn’t solely focused on the road. He was trying to get gossip out of her.

  And as a trained interrogator, he would do a good job. He’d catch her lies as easily as a consummate fisherman pulled fish from his inescapable net.

  ‘Yeah, Loch Fuar’s a nice place. I enjoyed my summers here as a child, helping Gran.’

  ‘Heard you were as good as any... what’s it called... forensic accountant. Siobhan told everyone how you slaved for those stiff backs just to make partner.’

  Aileen pressed her lips together. ‘It was something I was working towards, but then I didn’t want that anymore.’

  Callan smirked as if he knew she was lying, but he didn’t push her any further – he just took a deep breath and changed the subject.

  DESPITE HER AGE, SIOBHAN’S cat-like green eyes were still sharp. She also had a strong sixth sense, which meant they couldn’t even consider hiding details from her.

  Besides, it was obvious they had a rat in their midst.

  Rory MacDonald, Callan mused. It wasn’t hard to guess – his boss and Siobhan had always had their heads pressed together when it came to town gossip. Callan smiled to himself, promising he’d make sure Rory paid for his treachery, boss or not.

  Siobhan assessed the two young people in front of her as she sat in her armchair. But the armchair and the hospital tape around her wrist was all a ruse. If the time came, she’d be able to do a handstand as easily as any young man or woman.

  Her voice never quivered with age, nor did her wit.

  She pointed a finger at Aileen. ‘She’s healthy, and so are you.’ She pressed a look towards Callan. ‘Didn’t you consider asking my granddaughter out?’

  ‘Gran!’ Aileen squeaked in shock.

  Callan laughed and shook his head.

  ‘You aren’t buried six feet under, nor have you creaking bones. Young flesh and blood! Whatever are ye waiting for?’ Siobhan said, exaggerating every word with frivolous hand gestures.

  ‘Gran, that’s enough.’ Aileen tried a firm voice.

  Siobhan scoffed. ‘Lookie here. Ma grandwean’s trying to teach me manners. Hah!’ She slapped wrinkled yet strong hands on the arm of her chair.

  Directing her gaze at Callan, she negotiated, ‘Ask her out and I’ll tell ye about the ring.’

  Callan grinned a boyish grin. Siobhan didn’t believe in beating about the bush. Raising two young boys had given her a firm hand and a very good knack for negotiation.

  He didn’t argue. ‘Aye, I’ll do that but you tell us first.’

  She gave them another look. ‘I like a good blether. And I like how you don’t beat about the bush.’

  She took a breath and launched into a speech.

  ‘I lied.’ She looked at Aileen first. ‘It wasn’t a fake ring. A man wouldn’t notice the difference, real or fake. But I, like most women, know a real stone when I see one.’

  ‘You never showed the ring to anyone!’ Aileen pointed out.

  Siobhan cracked a laugh. ‘They never asked. I had to make a sob story about missing ma Eddie.’ The old lady sighed then. ‘With the ring or without, I miss him every breath I take.’

  Siobhan latched a hand onto the golden chain around her neck. She pulled it out to show a golden band hanging from it.

  This time she looked at Callan. ‘We never have enough time with the ones we love the most. There’s no time to waste. And you must enjoy every moment. You’ll know what I’m talking about.’

  For a while, Siobhan gazed out of the window, as if she was remembering her youthful days with Eddie.

  ‘Edward Mackinnon was as handsome a man as I’d ever met. My ma warned me against him. I didn’t listen. Since I was the baby of the family, last of five, I felt they controlled me too much.’

  Siobhan waved a hand. ‘Eddie, he wasn’t a gentle sort of man; he was a thief.’

  Siobhan’s firm words made Aileen gasp in shock.

  ‘Don’t look so horrified, dearie. I loved him for that. Why, we played the field together for a while before I had our first bairn.’

  Siobhan’s sly smile suggested this strong yet gentle old woman had caused plenty of trouble in her youth, and her old eyes glittered with mirth.

  ‘Louis XIV’s diamonds, that’s what we called them. They were being sent out of his court to someone in England. A secret deal of sorts. The poor messenger made it to the coast, then got accosted.’ Siobhan laughed. ‘We think he survived, but the pouch of diamonds was gone.’

  Aileen leaned forward in her chair, a stunned look on her face. Callan suppressed a smile.

  ‘Eddie was after them when we met. I joined him on his quest. We were in love and we were young – reckless.

  ‘He had his ears to the ground and when we had enough information, we took them from under a jeweller’s nose. It was more romantic than a movie.’

  A dizzy look came over Siobhan’s face, and she smiled a sweet smile, reminiscing about the old times.

  Finally she nodded at the present. ‘He designed the ring for me, from one of those diamonds. Nothing too huge – that wouldn’t have suited my fingers.’ She held out her thin but steady hand.

  ‘We sold the rest. Gave up that life once we knew the bairn was on its way. We couldn’t risk it after that.’

  Aileen cleared her throat. ‘Why lie about the ring being fake then?’

  Her grandmother smirked. ‘If we’d told the truth, your father would have been taken away to another family and I’d have rotted away in prison.’

  Siobhan continued. ‘We told everyone the ring was made using a semi-precious stone. And I hardly ever w
ore it out for people to see. When Eddie was gone, I brought the boys to Loch Fuar and hid the ring, spinning a tale of how it reminded me of my late husband.’

  She laughed a sarcastic laugh. ‘Locking a ring away could never separate my thoughts from Eddie.’

  With that, Siobhan caressed her wedding ring with such love it felt too intimate to witness.

  ‘SIOBHAN’S SOMETHING!’ Callan said, smiling at the thought of the old woman’s youthful law-breaking.

  Aileen huffed out a breath as they drove back to Loch Fuar. ‘My father would have a coronary! He’s a criminal lawyer, for God’s sake!’

  At that admission, Callan drowned the car in fits of belly-hurting laughter.

  When his amusement finally subsided, he snorted out, ‘Siobhan would have had a good laugh at the exemplary vocation one of her sons had taken up.’

  Aileen pressed her lips together; she refused to comment what her uncle did for a living. She couldn’t let Callan enjoy another laugh at her family’s expense.

  Wanting to distract him, she turned the conversation to important matters. ‘So the ring’s a real one. That changes things.’

  Callan dropped his shoulders, his eyes trained on the road. ‘I expect the autopsy as well as the tox report for the second murder soon.’

  ‘We know someone strangled her.’

  ‘Aye, but there seems to be no violence, no signs of a struggle.’

  She nodded. Aileen knew if someone tried to choke her, her body would fight back.

  A thought came to her mind. ‘What about the sleeping pills?’

  ‘Unless someone has a second bottle... We took the first one in evidence. It was right next to Smith’s bed – on the table.’

  Aileen breathed in a shaky breath. Talking about the bed made her feel queasy. She knew she could never sleep in a bed where someone had been killed. Besides, the mattress was a done deal – the knife had cut through it.

  She took a deep breath. The room was still locked under police tape, but Aileen knew she would need to revamp it... again. She couldn’t very well have guests arriving to a room full of bloodstains.