When Murder Comes Home

by Shana Frost

  Isla knocked on the door.

  After what seemed like a full minute, they heard shuffling and then clicking as if someone were opening up multiple locks from the inside.

  The door took some effort to pull open. It revealed an old man with a wrinkled face, white beard and hair.

  He glanced at them with a quizzical look.

  ‘Mr Wyatt?’

  Charles Wyatt nodded.

  Aileen flashed a friendly smile. He didn’t seem a rich sort of person. In fact, there was a tear in his trousers, his boots had seen better days and the sweater he wore didn’t seem to have been washed in a while.

  Keeping her smile in place, she struck up a conversation. ‘It’s a beautiful view from here.’

  ‘What’s your business?’ Charles wasn’t one for small talk.

  ‘Um, we...’ Aileen hadn’t quite decided how she’d sneak in her questions. She pointed a finger between Isla and herself.

  ‘We love unique jewellery pieces. And um, word is you’ve got a fascinating diamond-studded belt in your collection.’

  Charles drew up to his full height just so he could look down his nose at the two ladies. ‘And what would I do with this belt?’

  Isla smiled. ‘Oh but I loved the diamond brooch you displayed as a part of your collections last year.’ She sighed as if lost in happy old memories. ‘The brooch worn by, who was it now...?’

  ‘Augustus the Strong, King of Poland and the Elector of Saxony.’ That answer fell from his lips like a well-rehearsed phrase.

  He appraised the two again, finally came to a conclusion and nodded.

  ‘It’s best we take a walk.’ With that, he strode ahead, skirting the edge of the loch waters.

  Pebbles crunched under their feet, the ground wet from the rain that had added moisture to the Highland scenery.

  ‘Beaulieu and Legrand were selling it to me. The jewellery traders?’

  ‘Have you traded with them before?’

  Charles shook his left hand to say no.

  ‘They asked me to wait here and said they’d come down here with the belt. Safer that way – no one to nose about.’ He regarded them again with scorn on his face.

  But it was scorn directed towards Beaulieu and Legrand, Aileen realised.

  ‘Humbugs, the pair of them! Never showed. They were to be here the day before last. Then I got a call to say they’d be here the day after. Hah! Still not here.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Isla said.

  ‘Shame!’ His voice held some anger. ‘They have my money! They apparently bought the belt for me. And now? Where are they?’

  Aileen assessed the situation quickly. ‘Say, Mr Wyatt, I can tell you where they are. Would that help?’

  A crooked smile cracked on the winkled old face, showing unclean yellow teeth.

  ‘That’d be tremendously helpful, young lady. I have a thing or two to say to them.’

  ‘In return, can you help me with something?’

  THE TRIP HAD BEEN AN amazing success for both Charles Wyatt and Aileen. She almost danced into the police station to meet a harried-looking Callan.

  ‘Where have ye been?’

  Her smile widened. ‘Being very busy and successful.’

  Aileen placed a printout in front of Callan. ‘That’s your proof that this belt belonged to Beaulieu and Legrand.’

  ‘How’d ye get that? Yer hacking skills won’t give us sufficient evidence to bring the duo to justice.’

  Aileen made a clicking sound, still too happy. ‘Isla and I spoke with Charles Wyatt, who believes he’s been duped. For a little bit of info about the pair’s whereabouts, he gave us proof. Here are the emails between him and Beaulieu. And lookie here...’ Aileen sang the last part out, ‘Beaulieu himself says he’s got the belt. He’s included the catalogue number and product number in the email.’

  Callan gave Aileen a doubtful look. ‘Guess I’m getting Legrand and Beaulieu in.’

  And with that he disappeared, the station door swinging behind him.

  CALLAN CALLED ON ROBERT Davis to get Legrand and Beaulieu in. Legrand made a huge fuss and howled out ‘lawyer’ quicker than the speed of light.

  That was the last thing Callan wanted, another sleazy lawyer.

  After placing the two in different rooms, Percy Winston’s lawyer crossed over to Callan. ‘We’re ready to talk.’

  He set up interview for the third time.

  ‘Promise to make a deal.’

  Callan scoffed. ‘First, talk.’

  ‘Mr Cameron, my client is a pillar of this society and an exemplary citizen—’

  ‘Then he won’t need a deal, will he?’

  ‘I disagree,’ the suited lawyer continued in his monotone voice.

  ‘Bah!’ Percy kicked the table. ‘Shut up, you.’

  Callan regarded him with a sceptical look. ‘Are you willing to talk without a lawyer?’

  The old man huffed. He was clearly at the end of his patience. After shooting his lawyer a dirty look, he turned a spiteful gaze on the detective.

  ‘I won’t go into specifics. I won’t! But I am Percy Winston from the south of England not Canada. But I’ve never murdered any human being or animal in my life!’

  Callan smirked. ‘But ye know who did it.’

  Percy’s shoulders slumped. ‘I thought I did. You see, my doctor’s recommended I sleep early and rest well. So I do, sleep as deeply and early as I can. Samantha, my wife, does the same.’

  ‘The murder?’ Callan nudged him.

  He regarded Callan. ‘I blamed Jake that day. But Jacob’s my son, and as a parent I know he didn’t do it.’

  ‘Parents hold silly notions about their children. Most of them aren’t naive, Mr Winston.’

  ‘He didn’t do it! I’m telling you. He couldn’t have done the second murder!’ Winston emphasised.

  ‘Why?’

  Percy shook his head. ‘I cannot say.’

  Callan changed his strategy.

  ‘You own this dagger, don’t you?’

  Winston peered at the photograph of the murder weapon. He shook his head, ‘We don’t. We used to, but we sold it. Check the records...I’m telling you—Jake couldn’t have done it.’

  Callan leaned back in his chair assessing the man in front of him. His seemingly harmless face looked well worn. But Callan’s icy orbs scrutinised Percy.

  The older man visibly wiggled in his seat, twiddling his fingers and looking around the anal room.

  Suddenly leaning forward, Callan narrowed his eyes.

  ‘No, no,’ He said. ‘Jake couldn’t have done it. You’d know, given that you weren’t asleep.’

  Percy just shrugged. ‘I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply. I repeat myself- I haven’t killed either of them.’

  Callan flashed his teeth like a lion about to pounce, ‘You, Mr Winston, weren’t tucked in bed as ye claim to be. You were too busy helping yer son commit a crime.’

  Chapter 14

  Aileen sat on a chair in Callan’s office. He regarded the innkeeper when he entered.

  Her hair had been pinned back in place and her cheeks were slightly flushed. Apparently Isla had returned to her bakery; the fiery redhead was nowhere to be seen. From what Callan had observed, the two women had grown a strong bond between them already. They almost always seemed to be in each other’s company.

  Callan told her what Percy had confessed.

  ‘We do have the problem about motive,’ Aileen pointed out.

  Callan agreed. ‘We don’t know of any motive Jacob Winston could have had to kill Dave Smith or Susan Knight. And unless there’s a connection, how did he know they’d be staying at the inn? The murders were pre-planned. At least, the first one was.’

  ‘And how could he know Martha wouldn’t walk into the room that night? He’d be caught red-handed.’

  Callan snapped his fingers. ‘Unless he drugged Martha too. She did spend all night asleep in the library.’

  ‘Aye!’ Aileen spoke quickly, wit
h excitement. ‘They were at the dining table together.’

  ‘Interesting, yes – the killer could have slipped the first dose in then.’ Callan tapped his chin then made a quick note on the murder board.

  Turning to Aileen, he said, ‘First I need to hear what Legrand and Beaulieu have to say about the belt.’

  Aileen rose from her chair. It had probably dug holes into her back; it wasn’t the most comfortable sitting place. ‘Best of luck to you. I’ve got to get back.’

  Callan nodded. ‘See ye tomorrow then?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Aileen halted by the doorway. ‘Grandma called – she wanted to know what you did about your part of the deal.’

  When Callan chuckled at Siobhan’s persistence, Aileen breezed away with a small smile on her face. The road trip to see Charles Wyatt had obviously put her in a good mood.

  CALLAN FOUND HIMSELF in front of his murder board, trying not to get overwhelmed by the red herrings littered all over this murder case. His intuition told him that the missing ring was closely associated with the murders but not in a straightforward way.

  Pursing his lips, Callan read the board. He started with the first victim.

  Dave Smith was a black market dealer. His profession would have made him a few enemies. So was this murder a professional hit?

  Callan had his doubts. The only other person was his ‘female companion.’

  Was Martha that woman? Or...Callan shuffled his feet, was it Susan?

  Had someone targeted the pair and killed them?

  Detective Spiers from Edinburgh wasn’t able to give him much information on Smith’s partner.

  Callan walked over to his files studying what data he’d gathered. This idea that Susan was Dave Smith’s partner was indeed far fetched— she had been associated with John Cook for over six years. And Dave, well, there was no record of his nuptials with Martha.

  ‘Let’s move to Susan,’ Callan muttered to himself.

  ‘Where did she earn all this money from? It’s not all salary...’ He trailed off.

  What was she upto?

  Callan cupped his chin, peering at the board. He thought back to the phone call he’d had with the Detective in Edinburgh.

  Dave Smith had been meeting various people in London,wasn’t he? Percy Winston had a store in London. And Beaulieu and Legrand were also from London.

  The detective knew Beaulieu had met with Smith...

  Callan snapped his fingers. ‘Yes! Aileen’s guests had to be well acquainted, at least a couple of them.’

  He traced each photograph with his hands. Beaulieu had met Percy Winston at Barbara’s Tea Shop.

  That linked Dave Smith, Beaulieu and Percy Winston. And Beaulieu and Percy were the two people who owned the murder weapons.

  ‘What’s their motive?’

  Perhaps a business deal gone awry?

  How much did the respective spouses know? And what about Susan?

  Callan walked over to his laptop and read through the email Aileen had sent about Susan’s accounts.

  He read it again, trying to make sense of it.

  ‘She says Susan was blackmailing someone. What are the chances this person is the killer?’

  Callan sat back in his chair, the lingering residue of coffee leaving an acidic taste in his mouth.

  He closed his eyes, trying to think of the tall elegant woman he’d known as Susan Knight. Aileen had called her personable. But based on the current events, Callan could file her personality on good acting.

  His next question was: why Loch Fuar?

  He stood, pacing in this cramped office space. Loch Fuar was a great place to bury a body. They couldn’t possibly search the entire landscape.

  ‘Someone’s chosen this location purposely. But it’s more than the quaintness of this town...’

  Callan paused. ‘It has to be the diamond ring!’

  Storming over to the board, he looked at Beaulieu. This man was a geologist, married to a jeweller. And Percy Winston was an antiques dealer. Add this to Dave Smith’s black market expertise, how long would it take for them to hear about these diamonds?

  Surely thieves were a step ahead of police inspectors, as much as Callan hated to admit it. And the Detective who’d been on the case to locate these diamonds was an eejit.

  It was their plan to steal them...

  And their family members?

  What was their involvement in this?

  “I’m telling you—Jake couldn’t have done it.” Percy Winston had been so sure when he’d said that during interview.

  And he wasn’t lying. Callan closed his eyes, trying to picture the interiors of the inn.

  Percy and Samantha Winston, were positioned nearest to the Control Room. Opposite to them was Susan and John’s room. Had they been awake— which based on their statements, they weren’t— they could’ve seen Susan and then John leave the room.

  So why was Percy lying? Unless it had been Jake who’d led Susan out. Or Legrand?

  Beaulieu was too short to tie the belt around Susan’s neck, even in her inebriated condition.

  Callan tapped the board, remembering what Aileen had told him about that night. She’d seen Jake’s torchlight move towards the stairs as he headed from his father’s room door...

  Or was he at his father’s room door?

  Yeah, gosh, yeah, Callan grinned. He’d finally found the link.

  ISLA ASKED AILEEN TO wait till she closed up her bakery for the day.

  ‘Did you make any headway?’ Isla wanted to know.

  Aileen made a face that told her she wasn’t sure. ‘Callan’s interviewing Beaulieu and Legrand about the belt now. But there are so many other questions that need answering...’

  Isla paused her aggressive attack with a duster on the glass showcase. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Oh! Where do I begin? The biggest question I ask myself is what’s the motive? Every murder needs one. Unless the killer’s just doing it for fun.’ That thought made goosebumps pop on Aileen’s skin.

  Isla shook her head. ‘That’s unlikely. There are too many details that the killer needed to plan and there’s a reason why they’ve done it here in Loch Fuar.’

  ‘Aye. Besides, don’t the ones that kill for fun crave a good chase? That’s what I’ve heard. I’m no student of psychology, but serial killers and such would find a much more exciting chase in a city. A place where crime is rampant.’

  Aye, you’re assured of a diligent detective who’ll work to track you down. Not to mention, more people to kill.’

  They lapsed into silence as they each thought things through.

  Aileen jerked up. ‘Oh, I didn’t think about this before!’

  ‘Think what? What you’re making for dinner tonight?’

  Aileen waved an exasperated hand at her. ‘Martha Smith! She told me – she told me she was no good in the kitchen.’

  ‘So?’ Isla checked her phone. ‘Oh bugger! Daniel's asked if I can get home quick. The wee one’s balling her eyes out.’

  After a brief roll of her eyes, Isla added, ‘He can’t handle tears. You should’ve seen when I was pregnant. I teared up so many times. He’d literally run out of the house screaming!’

  Aileen laughed at the image of a tall muscular man running out on the street because his wife was crying.

  What had she been about to say? Aileen snorted. Forget it. Her friend needed her.

  Isla cracked up. ‘Oh my Daniel!’ She placed a hand on her heart. ‘I’ll drop you off quick, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course it’s fine. You should get back to Carly before Daniel runs out of the house!’

  Laughing together, they were soon on their way to Dachaigh, though they sobered up and manoeuvred back to serious talk soon enough.

  ‘I can’t understand why Percy Winston says his son couldn’t have done the second murder,’ Isla remarked after Aileen gave her a quick rundown of everything Callan had told her.

  ‘Or why Beaulieu or Legrand would kill Dave
Smith or Susan Knight.’

  Isla thought it out. ‘Actually, did you notice how Charles Wyatt said he was expecting them to turn up the day before last?’

  When Aileen nodded, she continued, ‘I wonder why they didn’t. They’ve been asked not to leave town, but they wouldn’t have technically left Loch Fuar to get to his cottage. It’s just a few miles from here.’

  Aileen caught up. ‘You think they couldn’t meet up with him because the belt had been stolen.’

  ‘Or they wanted to use it to murder Susan.’

  ‘Isla, why would they do that? It’s self-sabotage. They ended up losing the belt as evidence to the police, and Charles Wyatt is a serious collector of jewellery pieces. If he badmouths them, no matter their reputation, their business is sunk into the ground.’

  Just like mine. Aileen didn’t voice the last part.

  ‘Well, you’re right. It’s all above my head.’

  Aileen chuckled. ‘You’re a smart woman. And great at milking people for gossip.’

  Isla snickered. ‘Oh it’s all in the practice.’

  ‘Where’d you find out about the brooch?’

  Isla waved a dismissive hand. ‘A little bit of research. You’re not the only one who can dig up dirt.’

  Laughing with her new best friend felt good.

  When they reached Dachaigh, Aileen bid her friend goodnight and skipped over to the old fence, humming to herself as she pushed the gate open.

  She looked up, breathing in the refreshing fragrance of primroses. Her grandmother’s inn... She caressed it fondly with her gaze. Her inn now.

  An inn which currently housed a murderer, Aileen’s mind reminded her.

  Dismissing that horrid thought, she proceeded up the tiled pathway amidst beautiful blooming flowers.

  The golden glow of her inn engulfed her in a warm hug. But contrary to the noisy bustling establishment she’d hoped to be running, all was quiet.

  She really hoped Callan caught the killer soon. She hoped for a better and refreshing batch of guests. Next time she’d do a background check and she’d install more security cameras.