1 Off Kilter

by Hannah Reed

  Marg arrived with two steaming bowls of hearty haddock chowder, which turned out to be wonderfully flavorful and was even better when I followed Sean’s example and dipped crusty bread into the thick, rich broth.

  Silence stretched as we enjoyed our meal. Sean, I noted, was serious about his food, focusing entirely on the meal before him.

  “How’s the fire investigation going?” I asked when we were scraping the bottoms of our bowls.

  “Nowhere.” Sean had downed his soup as though he’d been rescued from starvation, but now he paused to scowl at his glass of water before elaborating. “Security cameras in the street and lobby didn’t pick up any unusual activity,” he said. “That tells us the arsonist either knew where the cameras were placed and avoided them, or it was an inside job.”

  His lack of prejudice against me made me like him a little better.

  “What about the owners?” I suggested, leading the newbie along by his nose.

  “Jeannie and old Bill?” At the mention of the innkeeper’s name, Sean glanced over at Bill’s table, although it was impossible for him to overhear Sean from that distance, especially with all the other conversations going on around us. “Why would himself do such a thing?”

  “Maybe they’re tired of running it. Jeannie mentioned how much she’d like to see the world and get away from the village. And her father . . . well, he doesn’t seem fit to take over.”

  “No reason fer them tae try tae burn up their own place, though.”

  Did I have to spell out the entire thing for him? “Jeannie’s father told me the inn is insured. That’s a good financial reason if I ever heard one.”

  Sean scoffed at that. “Leave it tae Bill tae make ye think he’s better than he is.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And the man is starting tae go dotty, with all the booze and old age.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They dinnae have a bit o’ insurance.”

  What? No insurance? But that was what I was basing all my accusations on. Owners trying to cash in—one in particular who wanted to escape this village. “That can’t be true,” I said, flabbergasted.

  “’Tis. Old Bill let coverage lapse over a year ago.”

  “Does his daughter know that?”

  “Aye, she’s the one who told me. I confirmed it with the insurance company. They’re runnin’ bare as a newborn’s bottom.”

  Sean had been more thorough in his investigation of the fire than I’d have ever given him credit for. Maybe he would make it as a cop after all.

  But there went another one of my promising theories, flying out the window, cackling as it went. Surely Jeannie wouldn’t burn down an uninsured building. If she really wanted out, she would put the inn up for sale. If she and her father didn’t have a motive for starting a fire, then who did?

  CHAPTER 27

  Jasper the barn cat was grooming himself in the open barn door when I parked and got out of the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. I was damp, chilled, and ornery, with a dull, nagging headache, which I suspected was due to more than my head injury. I needed to remember to take my meds. The cat froze and watched me but didn’t run away when I walked over to stand just inside the barn.

  The tractor partially blocked the area where Gavin Mitchell had met his death. The police had finished collecting evidence and had gone away as though they’d never been there. The inn fire hardly mattered in the light of a man’s death. That was merely an annoyance to the guests and a brief financial setback to the owners. No one had suffered loss of life or belongings, nor had anyone had to be hospitalized for carbon dioxide poisoning.

  It shouldn’t have been worth more than a fleeting consideration in comparison to a man’s murder.

  So why did I have such a strong feeling that everything that had happened so far was connected? That the fire wasn’t an isolated incident. Neither, I believed, was my fall from the barn stairs. I should be able to connect the dots, but I couldn’t. At least not yet.

  Vicki’s car was gone, making me wonder if the police had ordered her to appear for questioning. Was Inspector Jamieson interrogating her at this very moment, demanding to know if she was guilty and trying to cover up a terrible crime?

  My brain had so many questions but not a single answer, only suppositions.

  I wanted desperately to blame someone other than Vicki for my fall. Would Kirstine have had time to run down from the shop? Would she have left it unattended? How prompt were the tour buses? Could she have had a gap between one bus departing and another arriving? But how would she have known when I would take a break? Or even if I would?

  John had an alibi, but that didn’t have to mean as much as one might think. Friends have been known to lie for friends.

  As hard as I tried to cast blame elsewhere, it boomeranged back to Vicki. Had she been the one who’d sawed the steps leading to the loft? Had she intended to injure me? Or worse? I thought back and remembered going into the house for tea—Vicki had excused herself from the kitchen briefly. Had it been enough time for her to make sure I fell when I went back to work?

  But why would she hurt me?

  She’d gone over and above the call of duty when she’d rescued me the night of the fire. She’d given me a bed in the middle of the night and treated me like a welcome guest.

  Yet, there might be an explanation for her to orchestrate my fall. It was devious; that was for sure.

  Maybe she wanted John Derry to appear guilty. He’d been a verbal and threatening adversary. She couldn’t have known that he’d have an alibi that would be supported by several village businesspeople. It’s possible that the idea of using me to get to him occurred to her after she took me in and was concocted on the spot when John ordered us to stack the hay. A convenient opportunity that she took advantage of.

  The more I turned the incident over in my mind, the more suspicious Vicki’s actions became. If she’d done this, she could have killed me.

  The more I thought about my fall, the angrier I became.

  Sometimes we see what we want to see. I’d been a sucker from the moment I boarded that plane in London, desperately searching for a friendly face in an unfamiliar country. And then Vicki sat down next to me, and she hooked me in. Never mind the warning signs that she wasn’t exactly perfect. Shouldn’t a few red flags have gone up?

  After all, Vicki MacBride had walked off with an inheritance that should in all fairness have been split three ways. Even if the one-sided bequest had been her father’s intent, shouldn’t she have made an effort to reach out to the other side? Worked to find a way to compensate them?

  I rubbed my head to relieve some of the pressure. So much for first impressions. I considered kicking one of the Peugeot’s tires a few times to work off some steam. Instead I stared at the tractor, remembering how Vicki had screamed when we’d found the sheep shearer, and again when Kelly had discovered the scene of the crime. Her reactions had seemed so genuine.

  Once I calmed down a little, the rational part of me still had the strength to counter some of those damning claims. So Vicki had been unwilling to compromise with the others; but had they even given her a chance? And wasn’t her reaction to their hostility perfectly normal?

  Disputes like this happened all the time, and sometimes reaching out wasn’t an option with so much emotion involved. Famous television personalities, film stars, and many others in the public limelight have died and left survivors to duke it out over their assets. And families don’t have to be divided like the MacBrides to disagree and go to battle.

  What was the expression?

  Where there’s a will, there’s a war.

  Wasn’t that the truth? I was getting to witness a very nasty one with my very own eyes. Lucky me.

  So I decided not to pass judgment on Vicki based on the way she handled the rest of her family. She and I had bigger issues to addres
s, and I really wanted to give her a chance to explain, to reassure me that she’d had nothing to do with my fall or with Gavin Mitchell’s murder. I would give her that much.

  If only the surveillance cameras hadn’t caught her in such a terribly incriminating lie!

  Jasper mewed, bringing me back to the present.

  I turned slowly and squatted down a few feet away from him, motionless while we made some serious eye contact. He stared right back, unflinching but alert to any sudden movements for me. Then he came forward several steps, slowly, until he was close enough to rub against my knee. Which, to my amazement, he proceeded to do. On his third pass against my leg, his tail straight up in the air, his back arched, his eyes at half-mast, he began purring.

  “So you aren’t the big bad tom that you like us all to think you are,” I said to him, smiling, feeling the headache receding as my body relaxed. We all could learn a thing or two from cats. They sure know how to de-stress.

  While Jasper and I became friends, the rain clouds moved off into the distance and the sun made an effort to appear. It failed, but at least the dark gloom lifted. I was starting to get used to the volatile weather patterns, how one minute the sky could be perfectly clear and the next it would pour buckets. It was because of these torrential rains that the Highlands are such a lush, visual delight. This place was growing on me daily.

  If only the people were doing the same!

  Cautiously and slowly, I picked up Jasper in my arms. His purring missed a beat while he assessed the risk, but then his motor started up again. He was larger and heavier than I’d expected, and when I examined his claws, they were well honed. Jasper had an amazing built-in defense system. It would take a formidable animal to win a physical confrontation with him. Maybe they sensed that and kept a safe distance, because Jasper had a perfect shape and coat. No torn ears or burrs.

  A few minutes more of cuddling, then Jasper’s ears perked up. He quickly swung his head toward the lane, alerting me before I heard the approaching vehicle. He began wiggling in an attempt to flee, and I quickly put him down before he could unsheathe his claws. I watched him disappear from sight, an old pro at finding hiding holes inside the barn.

  Leith Cameron’s Land Rover pulled up next to my car, and I took back a little of my criticism about the people I’d met not being as wonderful as the land. This guy was one of the exceptions. In my anger I’d forgotten that, and I appreciated this reminder.

  He got out of the Land Rover, went around to the other side, and opened the passenger door. Kelly bounded out. I expected one of his lazy grins, but he didn’t gift me with one of those lopsided smiles. There was a distinct air of seriousness about him today.

  “Have ye seen her?” he asked without any sort of greeting.

  “Who? Vicki?”

  He nodded.

  “Is she missing?” I asked uneasily.

  “It appears so. I was having a chat with Sean Stevens when the inspector came along asking questions about where she might be. Jamieson is rounding up volunteers tae search fer her. Hope nothing’s happened.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” I said with a sense of foreboding.

  “Some o’ the roads along these hills can be tricky,” Leith said.

  I’d traveled some of those roads Leith was talking about and, yes, they could be treacherous. And if a car went off one of the steep cliffs and landed in heavy brush, it might not be seen from the road, might not be discovered for days or even weeks.

  “It’s more likely that she’s on the run,” I said, more certain of that happening than a car accident. If anyone was at risk of taking a dive off a cliff, I was a more likely candidate than she was. I’d seen her drive. She was a pro at navigating the Highland roads.

  Leith frowned, puzzled. “Why would she run?”

  “As of this morning or late last night, she’s the prime suspect in Gavin Mitchell’s murder.”

  “What?” Leith had been a witness to Kirstine’s accusation, but he hadn’t heard about the surveillance camera video that backed up Kirstine’s claim. I quickly filled him in, ending with, “The surveillance camera footage means Vicki’s in a heap of trouble. Actually, I’m surprised the inspector is going to all this trouble to search the hills when he should be putting up roadblocks.”

  For the first time since I’d come back from town, I heard the terriers barking from the direction of the house. Which surprised me. I thought they’d be with Vicki, wherever she was.

  Leith glanced toward the house. “The inspector told me he came by here, found the dogs alone, and no sign o’ Vicki on the farm or in the village. Do ye have any idea where she might have gone?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. I just returned from town myself a few minutes ago.”

  Leith and I walked to the house and let the dogs out. Coco and Pepper loped off to play with Kelly.

  “Vicki wouldn’t leave town without her dogs,” I said.

  “She loves those wee dogs,” Leith agreed. “But if she is hiding out, it would be hard enough alone without two noisy West Highland terriers tae deal with.”

  Which also was true.

  “I’m worried about Vicki,” he went on. “But I was even more concerned when I realized ye could o’ been with her and something might have happened to ye, too.”

  I smiled. “You were thinking of me?”

  “Aye,” he said with that grin I’d hoped for earlier. Leith had enough confidence for both of us. He continued to grin. I’m sure I blushed as I turned away, uncomfortable with the attention but loving it just the same.

  After a good run, Coco and Pepper collapsed on the wet grass, their tongues hanging on the ground and their eyes popping out of their sockets. Despite being considerably their elder, Kelly looked like she could have gone on playing forever.

  “Kelly and I are going tae help in the search,” Leith said. “Why don’t ye join us?”

  I gazed up from the panting dogs and studied him. Leith was wickedly good looking in the filtered sunlight streaking through the clouds above. Tall and strong, as though he could easily throw me over his shoulder and make off with me . . . have his way with me. . . . Oh my gosh! What was I thinking?

  “Uh, okay. But I need to take my medication before we go,” I stammered, hurrying toward the house. “For my head . . . uh . . . and I better leave Coco and Pepper here. I’ll be right back.”

  The dogs must have found their second wind, because they were right on my heels.

  CHAPTER 28

  “We’re probably wasting our time,” I muttered from the passenger seat of Leith’s Land Rover. Kelly had relinquished the position without any fuss and was happily sitting on her haunches in the backseat, enjoying the ride as only a dog can.

  I really did hope we were wasting our time. I hated to think of the alternative. I might be angry with Vicki, and disappointed and hurt, but I didn’t want this to end badly. If she’d had an accident, she could be seriously injured. Or worse. Whereas if she’d taken off rather than face certain accusations, that at least meant she was safe. And alive.

  I saw Inspector Jamieson’s police vehicle approach us from the direction of Glenkillen. We stopped and he came alongside, his window sliding down. The inspector gave me an official nod, then said to Leith, “Anything?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  The inspector addressed me. “Do ye have any information regarding Vicki MacBride’s whereaboots?”

  I shook my head. “She was at the farmhouse when I left this morning to meet you in town.”

  The inspector looked off ahead, and said, “It’s impossible tae see over some o’ the drop-offs from inside a car. That’s a problem, but we can’t search all the hillsides on foot. It would take the rest o’ our bloody lives.”

  “Aye. But I think we’ll pull over when we can and walk a bit all the same,” Leith told th
e inspector, who nodded, then drove off.

  A little farther down the narrow, twisty road we found enough room on the side to park.

  “Up fer a bit o’ hillwalking?” Leith asked as we got out. To Kelly, who had jumped out and was watching Leith for a command, he said, “Stay near.”

  I swung my eyes up to the vertical heights, the rocky slopes and peaks. “We’re going up there?” I tried not to squeak.

  “We will be able to see much more from above,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “At least the sun is cooperating fer the moment.”

  “But we’re climbing straight up?”

  “We’ll find an easier path than directly up,” he assured me, looping a pair of binoculars over my head and adjusting the strap. “Ye can be in charge of these. Come on, Kelly.”

  So Kelly and I followed our leader as he began the ascent.

  Even though I was used to walking extensively in the big city, this hike up into the hills was challenging for me, and I felt myself tiring quickly. And I’m sure my recent fall didn’t help either. I hid it the best I could, not wanting to look wimpy. Leith, having lived in this mountainous terrain all his life, didn’t break a sweat, and, of course, Kelly was born for running.

  Waist-high evergreen bushes dominated the landscape, thriving in the dry, rocky soil and displaying a profusion of small yellow flowers.

  “Gorse,” Leith informed me when I asked what it was. “Extremely invasive. We haven’t been able tae control it. Watch out fer the thorns. They’re as sharp as any cactus needles.”

  Naturally, I soon found out the hard way just how dangerous they were. I stepped wrong and turned my ankle. Upon realizing that I was falling, I instinctively grabbed for something to break my descent, which happened to be a handful of those thorny leaves.

  “Ouch! Yowwww!”

  I let go quickly and keeled over, remembering at the last moment to protect the binoculars around my neck. I closed my arms around them like they were a newborn baby.