Murder in the Highlands
Penelope Sotheby
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Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2018 Penelope Sotheby
First published in 2018 by Jonmac Limited.
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters and places, incidents are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Other Books By The Author
Murder at the Inn
The Diane Dimbleby Murder Collection Volume 1
Murder on the Village Green
Murder in the Neighbourhood
Murder on a Yacht
Murder in the Village
Murder in the Mail
Murder in the Development
Table Of Contents
Free Book
Other Books By The Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Murder on the Beach – Chapter 1
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About The Author
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Chapter 1
Diane Dimbleby was positively excited, as excited as an English woman could get at her age. At the age of 61 however, she was not at all certain that excitement was a good idea. Resolving to contain her excitement, she leaned on the railing of the ferry and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. She closed her eyes and was temporarily lost in the moment.
The moment passed surprisingly fast. Diane remembered that she had neglected to put on sunscreen and her gray, blunt cut bob was surely a tangled mess by now. She looked around the ferry and realized that she was the only person outside. The other tourists were far too busy texting and playing games on their phones in the air-conditioned convenience of the passengers’ lounge.
She was convinced that she must look a fright and returned to the comfort of her Land Rover parked nearby on deck. She opened the car door and was temporarily caught off guard by a powerful gust of wind that tried to snatch the door out of her hand. She smiled and remembered that the weather in the Highlands of Scotland could be unpredictable even in summer. She slid into the passenger’s side seat and closed the door, then flipped the mirror down and took a good look at herself.
Aside from the mess of gray hair that needed a bit of brushing, she was pleased by the reflection. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, and she still had a lovely peaches and cream complexion. She found her handbag and dug around until she had located the hairbrush. She tamed her unruly tresses and looked back at her reflection. Her hair was in place, and she looked much more like the retired school teacher she was accustomed to seeing in the mirror back home in Apple Mews.
She flipped the mirror back into place and located the laptop bag in the back seat. She decided to take advantage of the 6-mile ferry ride to the Isle of Skye and try to get some work done on her latest murder mystery. With her handbag on her shoulder and her laptop bag in her hand, she climbed out of the Land Rover, clicked the button on the key fob to lock it and made her way to the passenger lounge.
The heavy door was no match for the wind whipping around her light jacket as she walked into the lounge. The tables were full of young families, bored teenagers, newlyweds and retired couples. She looked for an open space at a table and was fortunate that one remained in the corner by the drink machine and the kettle. She quickly walked down the narrow aisle and claimed the last remaining table before anyone else realized it was free.
Diane tucked her hair behind her ears and unpacked her laptop. She switched the power on and looked at the battery life; four hours, it cheerfully glowed. 1 hour and 20 minutes would be plenty of time. The ferry normally only took 1 hour to arrive at the Isle of Skye from the ferry port at Mallaig.
She unpacked her tiny set of earbuds and plugged them into the jack on the side of the laptop. She located the saved playlist on the music files and found the one labeled Scotland. She hovered the cursor over the playlist and clicked play.
In only a matter of seconds, Diane was transported to a Broadway version of the Highlands. Brigadoon played in her earbuds, and she smiled as she heard the overture. It was corny, but she always associated Brigadoon with the town of Portree on Skye. She knew she would be embarrassed if anyone should happen to find out about this guilty musical pleasure, but it made her happy, and that was all that mattered.
Skye was one of her favorite places to holiday. Each year she tried to spend at least one week on this island in the Scottish Highlands. She closed her eyes and envisioned the waterfront of Portree with its row of colorful houses, shops, and restaurants. She could imagine the beautiful Quiraing and the majestic Cuillins.
As she listened to the melodic strains of the songs from the musical, she thought about Glen Gorm Hotel. It was only a short distance from the village of Armadale, yet it felt as though it existed in its own little world. The Victorian house was really a small castle and had been built on the rocky coast overlooking the sea. The estate at the Glen Gorm Hotel was breathtakingly scenic with nature walks, a coffee shop, and a wildlife tour.
Staying at the hotel was one of her favorite ways to relax and to unwind. The rooms were always spacious and affordable, the food positively delectable and the guests at the hotel always interesting. She never failed to meet people at the hotel that served as inspirations for characters for her books. She clicked on the word processing program on her laptop and remembered that although she was on holiday, she really should be writing.
She clicked her saved document and opened up the file. For a while she stared at the blue screen of the computer and realized that she was absolutely drawing a blank. She was writing a murder mystery, and she was at a critical place in the plot. Then she realized that she was much too distracted at present to work on her novel. Visions of eagles soaring through the air on a morning nature walk followed by crisp butter scones for tea were distracting her from the hour she should be putting to good use.
Diane looked at the blinking cursor on the blank page of the laptop and felt as though it was taunting her. She clicked on the pause button on the music player and removed the earbuds from her ears, then unzipped her handbag and pulled out her purse. She walked the four steps to the vending machine and put a few coins in the slot.
After selecting a box of chocolate biscuits, which slid into the chute with an audible thud, she put her hand in the door and hoped that not too many biscuits had been obliterated by their sudden encounter with gravity. Biscuits and wallet in hand, she went to the kettle and was pleased that there was hot water still in it. She selected a boring but reliable orange pekoe blended tea bag and poured the hot water into a Styrofoam cup, before walking the few steps back to her table.
Diane checked her phone to see if her husband Albert had called. He was visitin
g his sister in Taunton and so it was this that prompted Diane to take a long overdue trip north. Albert’s sister, although friendly towards Diane, never fully took to her for some reason and so Diane made her excuses and decided to do her own thing. Seeing that he did not call, Diane made a note that she would email him later. Obtaining a cell phone signal could not always be guaranteed where she was going to, but this did not bother Diane too much. At the very least it meant that Inspector Darrel Crothers could not call her about some incident or other in her home town of Apple Mews.
Steam rose from the cup; it was not perfect, but at least it was hot. Even on a summer’s day in July, there was something reassuring about a fresh cup of tea and a biscuit. She sat back down, this time without the distraction of music. She clicked on her word processing program and started a new document. The blank page opened and with a sudden burst of inspiration she began typing at a furious pace, filling the page with an in-depth description of her destination.
She wrote about Skye, the shops in Portree, the Glen Gorm Hotel and her friends, the real reason she had driven all this way from Apple Mews, Shropshire. She changed their names and a few key details about the proprietors of the Glen Gorm Hotel, and found that even writing about this lively and amicable couple made her smile.
Her fingers sped over the keys of her laptop as she described the Glen Gorm Hotel. The Victorian house was much too large to really be considered a house. It had over a dozen bedrooms, several guest cottages, and a coffee shop on the premises. The present owners Juliana and Malcolm MacKay had spent a small fortune refurbishing it and outfitting it with the luxuries and modern conveniences, while still retaining the charm of a small castle in the Highlands.
Diane thought about the attention to detail that Juliana and Malcolm had insisted the contractors take with every aspect of the restoration. Each wood panel, piece of furniture and tea cup were lovingly restored or replaced so that visitors would be transported back to an idyllic era of gracious living and days spent in pursuit of leisurely activities. The effect of the restoration was stunning. Diane always felt relaxed from the moment her car turned onto the gravel road leading to the hotel.
Glen Gorm had originally belonged to Malcolm's grandmother and had been in his family since it was built back in the 1870s. His grandmother had suffered terribly from dementia, and the house had fallen into a state of disrepair during the last few years of her life. Diane wrote about Malcolm and Juliana’s dedication to his grandmother. She described how they had worked tirelessly while his grandmother was still living to keep the house in habitable condition.
Diane knew that Malcolm had been working as a doctor in Inverness while his grandmother was still alive and admired Malcolm and Juliana’s dedication to the grandmother. Not a weekend went by in good weather or rough that they did not try to come out to Glen Gorm to check in on her. It was a heartwarming tale she thought, as she typed their story onto the digital page and into her computer’s memory.
Yes, it was a touching tale, but so too was the story of how they had met. She smiled and reached for her tea. Steam was still rising from the cup as she tentatively took a sip. It was quite hot but drinkable. She sipped the warm amber liquid and put the cup back on the table, then opened the box of biscuits and removed one from the package. She bit into the chocolate biscuit and thought about the story that her friend Juliana had shared with her several years ago.
Juliana had told her about how she had met Malcolm. Juliana was still a university student on holiday in the Highlands with her parents. They had been on the Isle of Skye and had stopped in Portree with a tour group. There was a choice of either shopping on the main street, or a guided birdwatching tour was on the itinerary that day. Juliana’s parents had chosen go shopping; Juliana, being the outdoorsy type, had decided to go bird watching. She was the youngest person on the tour; well, almost the youngest, because the young man leading the tour was Malcolm. He worked as a tour guide during the summer holidays to make a little extra money while he was at university. Of course, Diane always thought that he would have eagerly shared his extensive knowledge of his home for free.
Diane remembered Juliana was impressed with his knowledge not only of the avian population, but the wildlife and the history of the area. From Malcolm’s perspective, Diane recalled his astonishment that a beautiful young woman from the bustling metropolis of London was even the slightest bit interested in the natural beauty of his small corner of the world. The town of Portree was so small compared to London that he could not imagine how she was not bored to pieces, but then Juliana was no ordinary girl. It was truly love at first sight.
They had been together ever since, all through his years in medical school, his work in Inverness and finally, after his grandmother’s death ten years ago, they had retired to Glen Gorm and opened the castle as a hotel. It had been a great success, and they were a wonderful couple. Diane had met them on holiday a few years back, and now she no longer considered them the proprietors of her favorite hotel, but truly considered them to be friends.
Diane typed their story and her thoughts on the small town of Portree. She had never before considered using the Isle of Skye and the Glen Gorm Hotel as a backdrop to one of her stories. She decided that it was such a lovely place and their story was so romantic that it might give her inspiration to write a romance novel or a nature guide. When she finished typing, she read over her work and saved it.
She clicked on the document that she should have been working on and, feeling inspired by a sudden burst of creativity, began working on her novel again; the muse was back. As she typed details of her latest murder mystery, she thought that the muse had led her to write about the hotel and wondered if she should follow the whims of it.
She drank her now lukewarm tea and kept working until she noticed the tourists all preparing to return to their cars. She packed up her laptop and threw away her rubbish in the bin. She slid her handbag over her shoulder and returned to her Land Rover. The ferry was slowly pulling up to the dock at Armadale. She buckled her seatbelt and put the key in the ignition. The ferry came to a stop, the ferry boat workers finished the docking procedures, and only a few minutes later, she drove onto the Isle of Skye.
She rolled down the window and took a deep breath of fresh air, which had the salty smell of the ocean. Diane found that smell to be exhilarating. She drove the short distance to the A851 which followed, at least for a while, the eastern coast of the island. It was a scenic view, and she enjoyed the short drive. She never really felt like she was on holiday until she was officially on the island. Now she was here, and she couldn’t be happier.
This day was turning out perfect in every way; the weather was warm, the smell of the ocean was on the breeze, and the plants and grass of the island were crisp hues of green under a bright blue sky. She was sure that she must have had a silly smile on her face as she turned off the main road at Kilbeg and onto a narrow road leading the 2 miles to the hotel. She could feel her shoulders relaxing and her disposition becoming more cheerful as she drove closer to the Glen Gorm Hotel.
She was jolted out of her state of bliss and contentment by a police car that suddenly appeared behind her. The lights of the police car were flashing, and for a moment Diane wondered if she had been driving too fast. A quick look at her speedometer told her that was not the case. Just to be certain, she slowed down, and the police car sped around and resumed its quick rate of speed, and was soon around the bend in the road and out of sight.
Her feeling of relief was quickly replaced by a rising sense of alarm. There was only one destination at the end of the road, and that was the Glen Gorm Hotel. The relaxation and contentment that she had just been enjoying were now but a memory. She was not sure why a police car was going to the hotel, but her intuition told her that this morning was no longer perfect.
Chapter 2
She arrived at the hotel minutes later and was greeted by a disconcerting sight. There was an ambulance and several police cars parked a
t the entrance. Diane wasted no time parking her vehicle and hurrying inside. Although perfectly calm in demeanor, on the inside she was trying to control her fears; she hoped that Malcolm and Juliana were not taken ill.
She walked into the lobby and was greeted by a police officer.
“I am going to have to ask you not to go upstairs.”
“Yes sir, I am a personal friend of the owners, is everything okay?”
“Ma’am, I am not at liberty to say. Please have a seat until we can get this sorted.”
Diane sat on a beautifully upholstered couch by the fireplace in the great hall. She tried to remain calm and looked for her friends, but did not see either one. In her haste to get inside, she had completely forgotten that she had her cellphone in the pocket of her jacket. She reached into the pocket and powered the phone on. She typed in her passcode and immediately texted Juliana. She hoped that Juliana had her cell phone with her.
She stared at the tiny screen and wished her friend would text her back or call. She felt silly texting her when she could be in the same building, but the police officer was unlikely to let her go roaming to look for her. She was so busy concentrating on the small screen of her cellphone that she was caught by surprise.
“Diane!” exclaimed a tall woman, slightly younger than herself. It was Juliana. Diane was relieved to see her.
“My dear, please tell me that both you and Malcolm are well.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I hate to pry, but you seem to have all of the police officers on the island at your hotel.”
“It does seem that way. Come with me, we can talk in my office.”
Juliana led the way down a corridor leading from the great hall to a small but sunny office. Diane followed her into the room and shut the door.
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