by Mary Daheim
Renie was gnawing on her thumb. “Call the American embassy?”
Judith turned around. “If it comes to that—”
“Open the door.”
Judith and Renie jumped. The voice was muffled, but there was no mistaking that it was the same one they’d heard on other occasions.
“Holy Mother!” Renie gasped. “I’m going crazy!”
“Open the door.”
Judith looked at Renie. “Then we’re both crazy. It must be coming from the hall.” She walked to the door and slowly opened it.
“My God!” Judith shrieked. “Joe! Bill!” She fell into her husband’s arms.
Renie raced to meet Bill. “Where’ve you been? Are you okay? How—” Suddenly overcome, she let Bill envelop her in a tight hug.
After a few moments, Judith raised her head to see that another man stood behind the husbands. He was tall and stalwart with iron gray hair and deep-set brown eyes.
“MacGowan?” Judith said over Joe’s shoulder.
“Aye.” The newcomer smiled ruefully. “Sorry to detain Mr. Flynn and Mr. Jones. Of course I was detained as well.”
Judith and Renie both moved out of their husbands’ embrace. “Come in,” Judith said. “Sit down. Oh, I’m so relieved!”
“Who found you?” Renie asked, unable to sit still.
“Nobody,” Bill replied. “We weren’t lost.”
“But—” Judith began.
Joe held up a hand. “Let Hugh tell you.”
“Simple enough.” Hugh leaned on the mantelpiece and stroked his chin. “Patrick Cameron tracked me down at the Glengarry Hotel. He knew I suspected that Harry Gibbs might have arranged David Piazza’s accident. But Patrick felt Jimmy was behind it and was afraid that Jimmy was ultimately responsible for Harry’s murder. Patrick knew Jimmy didn’t trust Harry, and if arrested, he’d point a finger at the culprit who egged him on to kill Davey. Patrick was at his cottage when the explosion occurred. He started for the beach but saw Jimmy already heading that way and held off for a few minutes. When Patrick went down to see what was happening, he ran into Jimmy, who mentioned how terrible it was that Harry had been killed by a bomb.”
“This is simple?” Renie whispered to Judith.
“Hush,” Judith snapped. “This guy’s good.”
“Of course the bomb hadn’t killed Harry,” Hugh said. “Patrick didn’t know that then, but he saw an odd look in Jimmy’s eyes that he could only describe as ‘triumphant.’ Patrick made some crack about Harry’s death opening a big door for Jimmy, and they started to argue. Patrick left in a rage, but only figured out Jimmy’s role after the autopsy.”
“I wish Patrick had told us that earlier,” Judith murmured.
Hugh’s smile was ironic. “Patrick wanted proof, not just a slip of the tongue. He should have told MacRae sooner rather than waiting until he got himself arrested. But nobody’s perfect, and Patrick was determined to solve the crime by himself. The man has quite an ego. He’s also brave and conscientious. He figured that Jimmy wanted me out of the way when the murder was committed, and that I might be in danger when I returned, so he sent two of his security people to take us to a safe house. We stayed there until this morning, when I learned Patrick was going to be arrested. A trick, of course, to bring the elusive Jimmy out into the open. I insisted on moving closer to the action. Philip Fordyce arranged another safe house for us nearby.”
“Where?” Rene asked.
“Kate Gunn’s home,” Hugh replied.
“What?” Renie exploded. “You were eating pizza and guzzling God-knows-what while we were driving ourselves nuts with worry?”
“The pizza was second-rate,” Bill said. “No sausage. One was vegetarian. What’s the point of that?”
Hugh moved away from the fireplace. “I must go. Jimmy still hasn’t been found. But he will be.” He stopped in front of Judith. “And thank you and your agency for the invaluable help.” He saluted and left.
“Agency?” Judith repeated. “Not the CIA, surely!”
“Why not?” Joe said. “It’s better than being called FATSO.”
Judith was stunned. “How could they make such a mistake?”
Joe shrugged. “You know government red tape. I suppose Scotland Yard or British intelligence asked for help in this international oil scam and some bureaucrat lost the memo.”
Judith shook her head. “It could happen. But,” she said, beaming at Joe, “you’re safe. That’s the main thing.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Renie agreed, still on an adrenaline rush. Suddenly she stood still. “Wait a minute. Where did that voice come from? The one that said ‘Open the door’?”
Bill reached into his jacket pocket. “This?” He held out a metal gadget about the size of a matchbook and squeezed the front: “Open the window.” He squeezed again: “Open the gate.” “It’s my latest invention. I brought it along because Hugh knows somebody in the real estate business who’s looking for a gimmick to show houses when the agent isn’t around. I forgot to take it when we went fishing. I left it on the dresser.” Bill frowned at the gadget. “It’s got my name on the back, so MacRae gave it back to me. His sergeant found it in the storage room after Chuckie’s body was removed. It was on top of some boxes.”
“I fell on that box!” Renie exclaimed. “I must have activated it! I’ll bet Chuckie loved playing tricks with that, the little—” She stopped and turned somber. “The poor wee laddie.”
“My, yes,” Judith said, and snapped her fingers as she turned to Renie. “That light in your room that we saw the other evening—I’ll bet it was Chuckie, looking for more gadgets.”
“He must have been disappointed,” Renie said.
“Okay,” Joe said, slapping his hands together. “We’re not going fishing for a couple of days until MacGowan and MacRae wind up this case. What do you lovely ladies want to do tomorrow?”
Judith and Renie exchanged doleful looks. “Uh…” Judith began, “we have to attend a funeral.”
“At least there won’t be another inquest,” Renie put in.
Joe’s face fell; Bill scowled at his wife. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
“Oh,” Joe finally said, “let the girls have their fun. We could take a boat out on the sea if it’s not too rough.”
“The wind’s almost stopped,” Bill noted as the two men walked toward the window. “I’ve got the names of a couple of rental places.”
“Sounds good,” Joe said. “They’ll have the gear. We need heavy—”
Renie collapsed on the bed. “I’m starved.”
Judith sank into an armchair. “Me, too. And exhausted.”
“We need a vacation,” Renie declared.
“Maybe we should have gone to California,” Judith said.
Renie eyed Judith doubtfully. “You’re kidding!”
Judith smiled. “Of course.”
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Jim Bilsand of the Grampian Police for his generous assistance. If there are any deviations from fact, I alone stand convicted.
About the Author
M ARY R ICHARDSON D AHEIM is a Seattle native with a degree in communications from the University of Washington. Realizing at an early age that getting published in books with real covers might elude her for years, she worked on daily newspapers and in public relations to help avoid her creditors. She is married to David Daheim, a humanities professor emeritus, and lives in her hometown in a century-old house not unlike Hillside Manor, except for the body count. Daheim is also the author of the Alpine mystery series and the mother of three daughters.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
A LSO BY M ARY D AHEIM
Just Desserts
Fowl Prey
Holy Terrors
Dune to Death
Bantam of the Opera
A Fit of Tempera
Major Vices
Murder, My Suite
Auntie Mayhem
/> Nutty As a Fruitcake
September Mourn
Wed and Buried
Snow Place to Die
Legs Benedict
Creeps Suzette
A Streetcar Named Expire
Suture Self
Silver Scream
Hocus Croakus
This Old Souse
Dead Man Docking
Saks & Violins
Credits
Jacket design by Ervin Serrano
Jacket illustration by Bill Mayer
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SCOTS ON THE ROCKS. Copyright © 2007 by Mary Daheim. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Microsoft Reader June 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-146582-6
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
55 Avenue Road, Suite 2900
Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.uk.harpercollinsebooks.com
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Mary Daheim
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
FB2 document info
Document ID: b2bb72f4-2795-4190-97d1-564ae6f4637f
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.3.2011
Created using: calibre 0.7.49 software
Document authors :
Mary Daheim
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
