“You know we were going out of our minds trying to get our hands on this guy, Robert Kilbairn,” he said. Annabelle nodded. “Well, yesterday we were walking through the village, and we saw his bike outside the post office.”
“We knew that if we bulldozed our way in, he’d just run out the back again,” Patti said. “Or hide, or just disappear. Like he’d done a thousand times already.”
“Right,” Mitch continued. “So I found this stick, and I stuck it between the spokes of one of the wheels on his bike. Then we went inside.”
“Of course he wasn’t there,” Patti said.
“He’d seen us. He hid behind the door, and slipped out when we walked in. But as soon as he tried to pedal the bike away, of course, he got a nasty surprise. He was sprawled all over the road.”
“Oh my!” Annabelle exclaimed.
“Tell them what you did next, Mitch,” said Patti, her voice thick with admiration.
“I ran over to him and said ‘Freeze! Or I’ll blow your brains out!’”
Annabelle, Mike, and Roger all stiffened in shock, their expressions dropping like stones.
“You had a gun?! In Scotland!” Roger cried.
“Of course I didn’t!” Mitch chuckled. “But he didn’t know that!”
Annabelle spluttered into laughter and was quickly joined by Roger and the Inspector.
“What then?” Roger asked.
“I kept my hand in my pocket,” Mitch continued, “you know, to make him think I had the gun in there. Then I made him march us all the way up to the castle. Finally.”
“He was babbling like crazy,” Patti said, her eyes big and wide at the memory. “Really paranoid and erratic.”
“When we got up to the castle and he let us in, we saw exactly why,” Mitch said.
“This next part will blow your minds,” Patti raised her hands and spread her fingers dramatically.
“Not literally, obviously,” Annabelle added, thinking back to the gun.
As Mitch paused for a second before speaking again, his audience leaned in, anticipating a twist in the tale.
“He was growing weed!” he said. “ Marijuana! Tons of the stuff. All over the castle.”
Annabelle gasped. Roger shook his head in disbelief. Nicholls laughed, grateful that it wasn’t his case to investigate.
“But how?” Roger asked quickly. “Blodraigh is hardly Colombia. I can’t even grow basil in this weather.”
“Hydroponic lights,” the Inspector offered as an explanation. “They let you simulate the right conditions. It’s a popular method for growing drugs in colder climates, though it’s expensive. You need a lot of space to avoid getting caught, enough that no one can detect the heat or the smell of what you’re growing.”
“The castle was perfect,” Mitch added.
“That’s rather clever, actually,” Annabelle said. “Totally illegal, but clever. Blodraigh is the last place anyone would suspect such a thing.”
“Plus there’s no real police presence,” Roger said. “There aren’t even any officials when you ship stuff back and forth from the mainland.”
Everyone took a moment to admire the ingenuity of the paranoid castle recluse who had conducted such an operation.
“But what about your lairdship?” Annabelle asked.
“That turned out to be a little scam Robert was running on the side,” Patti said. She gave a little sigh.
“But we got something better,” Mitch said his eyes glinting. “Once we found out about the castle, we told Mrs. Beattie. She’s the lady who runs our B&B. She told us a detective had just arrived on the island. And when we got hold of him, he rushed right over. Apparently they’ve been investigating this case for a long time, but they hadn’t been able to figure it out. There was a big reward for any information about it.” Mitch exchanged a quick smile with his wife. “And we got the lot!”
Annabelle chuckled as she raised her glass.
“Well, here’s to you leaving Scotland with much more than you came with!”
Mitch licked his lips and said, “Oh no, we’re not going back to America!”
“We’re buying the castle!” Patti cried giddily, waving her hands with excitement.
“That’s right,” Mitch said. “You know, we came here for that castle, but we just ended up falling in love with the whole island, and everyone on it. With the reward money, and Kilbairn off to jail, the castle will go up for auction soon.”
“It’s not in great condition,” Patti said, “but Mitch is very good with his hands.”
“And since a lot of people get scared off buying a place that was the site of a major crime, we’ll get a great price. Inspector Campbell assured us we’ll get us first refusal.”
“That’s wonderful!” Annabelle said.
“I suppose we’ll be neighbors now then,” Roger said, with a little laugh.
“Yes, I suppose we will, buddy!” Mitch said, clinking his glass against Roger’s and taking a sip.
“Come on, Mitch,” Patti said, taking her glass and standing up. “Let’s leave them to chat among themselves. We’ve got to get to know our new neighbors.”
“Sure, honey. Have a safe trip back, you two. The next time you come up, I expect you to stay with us for a bit – we’ve got plenty of room!”
The couple linked arms and rejoined the crowd around the bar, leaving the three of them to exchange expressions of amazement.
“I’ve lived here for a decade,” Roger said, shaking his head, “and I think more has happened in the past week than in that entire time.”
The Inspector chuckled as he sipped from his glass. “I think you can blame Annabelle for that. She has a talent for stirring things up wherever she goes. Or simply when she stays at home.”
Annabelle gently elbowed the Inspector. “That’s not true!”
“It most certainly is!” Nicholls said, winking at Roger.
Suddenly a distinctly long-haired figure shuffled out from the crowd and loped toward them.
“Vicar! I thought you’d left already.”
It was Pip, and he seemed in a good mood.
“We’re leaving today. We’re just having a little drink before we do,” Annabelle said, as Pip sat in the warm spot Mitch had just left.
“Have you heard the news?”
“Which news?” Roger asked. “The massive drug bust, or the revelation that Kirsty Munroe murdered Harry Anderson?”
“The drugs, of course! Incredible. I come all the way up here to get away from them only to find masses of the stuff on my doorstep!” Pip shook his head, as if still unable to believe it. “Hey, Inspector. You got any good stories about murders and the like? I’ll bet you get a lot of gruesome stuff happening down south.”
“Oh, Pip!” Annabelle moaned. “Not that again!”
“Call it research, Vicar. Hey,” Pip leaned on the table, “by the way, thanks for that story about the crows. Gave me inspiration for a neat little subplot. So what do you say, Inspector, got anything for me?”
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing some of your stories. You know, from when you were on the road with your band,” Nicholls said. “Did you really burn your guitar on stage?”
Pip chuckled. “It just caught fire, I’ve still no idea how! Unfortunate that I was playing it at the time!”
Nicholls laughed. “I’ll tell you what. How about I give you my new email address, and we can exchange some stories.”
“That’d be great!” Pip said, immediately fishing around in his denim jacket for a pen.
Once the Inspector had written down his email address, Pip shook hands with everybody at the table. He let them know how much he would like to see them should they visit Blodraigh again and took his leave, though not before the Inspector could wish him good luck with his ‘project.’
“You know, I never actually found out how you two met,” Roger said to Mike and Annabelle. They were still sitting pressed up against each other on the bench opposite him. They hadn’t moved si
nce they made space for Patti to sit down even though there was now plenty of room to spread out.
Annabelle and Mike looked at each other briefly.
“We both work in the community, so our work inevitably causes us to cross paths,” Annabelle said, looking at Roger carefully.
“I see,” Roger said, a twinkle in his eye “You certainly seem to have struck up a good relationship.”
“A very fruitful one, wouldn’t you say, Annabelle?” Nicholls smiled, looking at her warmly. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a brief squeeze.
Annabelle blushed slightly and hid herself behind her glass as she took a long sip.
“It would be nice for both of you to come up next time. Perhaps there’ll be more fun, and less chasing murderers, illegal drug growers, and the like,” Roger joked.
Annabelle flashed her eyes in admonishment at her brother, recognizing exactly what he was implying.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Mike said. He checked his watch quickly. “Well, we should get going.”
Roger checked his watch too.
“Mrs. Cavendish should be here with the girls any minute.”
They gulped down the last of their drinks, and stood to leave. Annabelle stopped at the door and turned back toward the crowd.
“Bye everyone!” she called out. “Take care of yourselves!”
Every single face turned in the direction of Annabelle and the Inspector.
“Come back soon, Vicar!”
“We’ll miss you!”
“You’re always welcome in Blodraigh! The pair of you!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AMID SHOUTS AND laughter, the three of them left the pub, and took a few steps down the road.
“So you’re making the journey back together?” Roger said, the mischievous tone in his voice still present. He couldn’t resist teasing his sister.
“I guess we are,” Annabelle replied evenly, as they ambled around the corner of the pub. “It should make the long ferry and train journeys pass a little faster.”
“Who said anything about ferries?” Mike said, a wry smile playing on his face.
“What do you mean?”
Before the Inspector could answer, the distant, rhythmic sound of propellers reached them. Annabelle’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t?!” she cried, as the sound of the helicopter grew louder.
“I most certainly did,” the Inspector replied.
“How?” Roger asked, impressed once again.
“Steve, the pilot, and I did our basic police training together. He flies the police helicopters and life flights in the North of England. He’s used to flying in rough weather, so I asked him to fly me up here as a favor. Now, he’s going to fly us home.”
They watched as the helicopter landed amid the roar of blades and the thrashing of grass in front of the pub. Roger and Nicholls exchanged a solid, respectful handshake, and the Inspector walked to the helicopter.
Annabelle and Roger looked at each other lovingly, and hugged.
“He’s a good man,” Roger said, just loud enough to be heard above the helicopter’s noise.
“He is,” Annabelle nodded.
“You could do a lot worse.”
“Roger…” chided Annabelle. “It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
Roger glanced behind Annabelle at the helicopter. “Not many friends would travel all this way to make sure you’re safe.”
Annabelle smiled, and a second later, young, high voices caught her ear.
“Bumble! Don’t leave!”
“Annabelle!”
Skipping up the path from the village, satchels and ponytails tossing behind them like sails, Bonnie and Felicity were approaching with big smiles across their faces. Mrs. Cavendish followed a few feet behind, crying out for the girls to slow down as she struggled to keep up with them in her long skirt and heeled boots.
Annabelle braced for impact. The girls slammed into her, and she hugged them tightly, feeling more than a little sentimental that it would be the last time she saw their happy, innocent, faces for a while. When they pulled apart, the girls were ready to bombard the departing vicar with questions.
“Is that your helicopter?
“Is the Inspector your boyfriend now?”
“Will you be getting married?”
“Can we be bridesmaids?”
“Would you prefer a girl or a boy?”
“Girls!” Mrs. Cavendish reprimanded as she finally caught up with them. “That’s enough! The poor vicar!”
Annabelle chuckled good-naturedly.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Cavendish,” she said with a smile. “In answer to your questions, girls: No, that is not my helicopter. We’re just borrowing it for the trip home. I will do my best to come back later in the year, and I have no intention of marrying anyone in the immediate future – though if I do, you can be sure that you will not only both be bridesmaids, but you will be some of the first to know.”
The girls smiled gleefully, swapping glances giddily and clapping their hands.
“And Mrs. Cavendish,” Annabelle said, “I am eternally grateful for your hospitality and care and especially the numerous culinary delights you’ve introduced me to in my short time here.”
They embraced briefly, and Mrs. Cavendish grinned broadly.
“Please take this,” she said, pulling a small, tatty notebook from her coat pocket.
“What is it?” Annabelle asked, taking it slowly and carefully thumbing it through.
“A book of recipes my mother gave me a long time ago, and to which I’ve added in recent years.”
“Oh, Mrs. C.!” Annabelle exclaimed, handing the book back. “I can’t take this, I’m sorry. That’s far too precious a gift. I wouldn’t be able to do it justice.”
“It’s not for you, Vicar! It’s for Philippa!”
“Oh!” Annabelle said.
“You’ve spoken about her at length to me, and it’s patently obvious that we are kindred spirits. Philippa sounds like one who understands the art, the love, and the power of a perfectly prepared dish. Tough old birds like us may be a dying breed, but we still recognize a kindred soul when we hear of one. Philippa will know what to do.”
“But—“
“Don’t you worry, I’ve got them all memorized. And anyway, I could write a book twice that size now.”
Annabelle grinned at the strange sense of sisterhood Mrs. Cavendish felt for Philippa, despite having never met her.
“I am sure she will be sincerely touched by the gift,” Annabelle said, pocketing the book.
“I’m not worried about sentiment, Vicar. I just want my Scottish pancake recipe to spread its wings beyond the limited borders of this little island.”
“Well,” Roger said, as he placed his hands tenderly upon the heads of the two girls stood either side of him, “I suppose this is it.”
Annabelle gazed at the beautiful faces of the people she loved.
“For now, Roger. Just for now,” she smiled, before turning away from her brother and walking up to the helicopter. The Inspector held the door open for her and took Annabelle’s hand to help her up into her seat. The crowd on the ground had swelled as the locals, drawn by the sound of the helicopter, had come to see what all the fuss was about. Annabelle and Mike waved one last time as the helicopter took off.
The chopper’s tail lifted and the nose dropped, causing Annabelle to yelp as it swept over the countryside, which rose and fell like grassy waves beneath them. They both gawped in wonderment as the church spire came into view, high atop one of the tallest points on the island, the cross at its head glorious against the orange light of the falling sun.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” Annabelle cooed, looking at the Inspector.
“It most certainly is,” he replied.
“The island is so beautiful from up here.”
Nicholls shifted his gaze from the island’s alluring landscape and settled upon Annabelle.
> “There’s beauty all around us, if you take the time to look.”
Annabelle turned to face him and saw a softness in his eyes.
Suddenly the helicopter jerked backward. Annabelle and Mike jumped in their seats. Their hands shot out to steady each other.
“Sorry!” the pilot called back through the noise of the blades. “My fault.”
Their fingers now intertwined in the middle of the seat, Annabelle and Mike made no move to disentangle them. Instead they smiled bashfully as the helicopter ploughed on across the darkening sky. They sat back and relaxed as they peered out the windows at the lights down below as their thoughts turned to home. Philippa, Molly, the villagers, and Upton St. Mary would all soon rise up to meet them, but for now they were alone, basking in the simple pleasure of one another’s company.
REVERENTIAL RECIPES
WONDERFUL WHISKY MARMALADE PUDDING
Butter for greasing
8 tablespoons marmalade
4 oz. butter, softened
4 oz. sugar
2 tablespoons Drambuie (optional)
Grated rind of 1 orange
2 eggs, beaten
6 oz. flour, sifted
1¼ teaspoons of baking powder
Pinch of salt
Milk
Grease a 2 lb. pudding basin, and spoon 4 tablespoons of the marmalade into the bottom.
Cream together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Beat in the remaining marmalade, Drambuie, and orange rind.
Add the eggs a little at a time, beating after each addition. Fold in half the sifted flour, then fold in the rest with the baking powder and salt. Add a little milk to give a soft-dropping consistency.
Pour the mixture into the basin, cover with buttered greaseproof paper or foil, and secure with string. Allow some room for the pudding to rise. Place in the steamer or a boiling pan of water and steam for 1 hour. Don’t let the pan run dry or the marmalade will burn.
Invert the pudding on to a serving plate. Serve with lots of custard or cream and a bit of extra warmed marmalade. Serves 4.
Note:
Horror in the Highlands Page 15
