by Hannah Reed
When Sean went up to the road to wait for emergency backup to arrive, the inspector said in a low voice, “Constable Stevens has a sharp eye. I might have tae keep him after all.”
With that welcome news, I felt strong enough to give them a brief overview of the day’s events and how they had finally led me to suspect that Alec MacBride had murdered the sheep shearer. There would be plenty of time later to elaborate.
I ended with: “I should have realized earlier. In hindsight, there were signs.”
“Ye know what they say aboot hindsight,” the inspector said.
“Yes, that it’s always twenty-twenty.”
“That too, but also this: Hindsight is an exact science. It’s always right.”
Later, I thought about those small signs I’d overlooked. Like when I’d mentioned pig’s blood to Alec. That particular detail hadn’t become public knowledge yet. Alec couldn’t have known. Unless he’d planted it there. But he hadn’t been surprised, hadn’t questioned me further. Anyone else, other than the killer, would have had a question or two. Vicki and I certainly had discussed it. Missing that clue could have been a fatal slipup on my part. It almost had been.
“You need to make another phone call for me,” I told the inspector. “We need to stop a court proceeding.”
So Inspector Jamieson, with new information to share with Kirstine and John Derry, managed to convince them to postpone the hearing until he could assess Alec’s role in the death of their father.
Leith, with his arm still around mine, keeping me steady on my feet, said, “Ye turned out tae be a real thorn in this bloke’s side.”
The inspector, overhearing, laughed at the pun. “I couldn’t have stated it better,” he said.
CHAPTER 44
It was a fine morning two days later when Constable Sean Stevens drove up to the farmhouse, unloaded a wheelchair from the boot, and helped Vicki MacBride from the car to the chair. Our welcoming committee consisted of an unlikely trio: Inspector Jamieson, Kirstine MacBride, Jeannie Morris from the Whistling Inn, and myself.
And a menagerie of critters—Jasper from a guarded position inside the shadow of the barn door; Coco and Pepper, who were making slight progress in making friends with the shy cat; and Kelly, whose gaze strayed constantly to the sheep grazing in the pastures beyond and the towering figure of John Derry working amongst them.
“I want to apologize for my husband’s bad behavior,” Kirstine said to me. “He knew you were listening to our conversation that day, having seen you enter the shop. I had no idea you were there until later. John must have put quite the scare into you with his threatening words.”
“I didn’t take it too seriously,” I said. Not the truth, of course. He’d scared the wits nearly out of me. But we needed to move on.
“That volunteer officer o’ mine,” the inspector said next, “is acting the goat as usual.”
That sounded bad for Sean. But the inspector had a warm smile on his face and seemed much more relaxed than he had while working the case.
“Acting the goat?” I asked.
“Goofing around again. It’s a wee bit o’ a joke. He’s doing a good deed, and I think he likes his charge, don’t ye?”
Ah, of course. Sean did look pleased to be wheeling Vicki around. “You’ll keep him on then?”
“Knowing ye and yer ability tae win an argument, I don’t have much o’ a choice.” His eyes twinkled.
Jeannie had arrived at the farmhouse a little earlier to refund my unused room charges, and she offered me a complimentary seven-day stay at the inn anytime in the future.
“Fer all the trouble I gave ye,” she said. “And all along it was Alec MacBride who almost burned down the place.”
I asked for a rain check. For the immediate future I would be here at the farmhouse, available to help Vicki recover, spending the rest of my time burrowed deep into the shadows of the Kilt & Thistle with my laptop and a story to write. One that had been seriously neglected until recently. The electricity between Gillian Fraser and Jack Ross was palpable, according to Ami’s assessment after reading my most recent work on Falling For You.
But she wasn’t nearly as happy about my procrastination over their sex scenes. “Something in your personal life is interfering,” she wrote in her last e-mail. “A ‘jolly good’ romp in the hay might be required. I highly recommend it.”
Leave it to Ami to come up with that solution.
She’d also wondered if I had firmed up my plans. Was I staying the six months my travel visa allowed?
I didn’t have an answer for her. All I knew for sure was that I wasn’t ready to go back yet. I couldn’t face my mother’s empty apartment, and I had already decided not to renew the lease. Ami would put me up temporarily once I returned to Chicago.
While Vicki arranged herself comfortably in the wheelchair, Kirstine approached her. Sean idled at the back of the wheelchair as the two women sized each other up.
“We got off to a bad start,” Kirstine said, speaking first. “I thought the worst of you, and look how wrong I was. If you still want to add some of your handiwork to the shop, you’re more than welcome to do that. We’re partners now.”
Kirstine extended her hand. Vicki stared at Kirstine, then took the offered hand in both of hers. She beamed. “Partners. I like the sound of that.”
Vicki and Kirstine had a long way to go, but they were off to a great start.
While preparing charges against Alec MacBride for the murder of Gavin Mitchell, the inspector had sent a search team to Alec’s apartment, where they had found evidence in the clubhouse trash—torn remnants of the notes between Gavin and Vicki that he had falsified. With that discovery, along with my incriminating statement, Alec had confessed to destroying the new will and to the murder.
So the two women would soon be in a court of law regarding the will again, but this time, they’d be on the same side.
“What about your husband?” Vicki asked Kirstine. “Won’t he mind?”
Kirstine glanced out into the pasture. “He’ll come around,” she answered.
“What I’d really like to do is organize knitting classes,” Vicki told her rather meekly, as though she expected a negative response. I caught a whiff of her signature perfume. Rose and jasmine assailed my senses and I realized how much I had missed that smell. “And I can spin, too. Maybe a class or two there as well.”
“Would you believe I can’t do either?” Kirstine said. “So, yes, that would be lovely. It would bring a whole new dimension to the shop.”
Soon, the rest of the party moved indoors. Except me. I remained outside where I was, breathing in the wonderful aroma of fresh air and green earth. Leith had warned me that he would be late arriving to the celebration when he’d dropped off Kelly earlier. Something to do with wanting to bring his girl around.
To be frank, if I never met her, I’d be perfectly fine with it. But I couldn’t say that.
Soon, the white Land Rover came into sight, traveling up the lane from the main road as if in slow motion. Part of me wanted to make a run for it and join Jasper in the barn’s loft.
But I held my ground.
The Land Rover came to a stop and the driver’s door swung open. Leith leapt out, wearing a kilt again, and ran around the front of the car to open the passenger door. He was so excited.
I plastered a welcoming smile on my lips.
She slid out, and Leith put his strong, protective arm around her. She was everything I’d imagined she would be—fair-skinned, perfect complexion, long blonde hair with a hint of natural reddish highlights, slim and trim, absolutely gorgeous.
And she stood about three and a half feet tall and was missing her two front teeth.
I couldn’t help breaking out in a wide grin.
“I’d like ye tae meet Fia,” Leith said when they stopped before me. I gazed dow
n into her sky-blue eyes. “Her mum and I aren’t together anymore, but we put aside our differences when it comes tae our daughter. Isn’t that right, Fia?” He mussed her hair. She made a face at him.
“It’s a pleasure, Fia,” I said. “How old are you?”
“Six,” she told me.
Six. About the same age I’d been when my father had abandoned me and my mother. Fia was luckier than I’d been. “And do you like parties?”
She nodded.
“Oh good, then you’re in luck,” I told her, “because I know where one is going on right this minute.”
Tomorrow, I decided, I’d write that love scene I’d been avoiding.
Intuition told me the words would come this time.
And with that, we walked inside together to join the party.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hannah Reed is the national bestselling author of the Queen Bee Mysteries, as well as the Scottish Highlands Mysteries. Her own Scottish ancestors were seventeenth-century rabble-rousers, who were eventually shipped to the New World, where they settled in the Michigan Upper Peninsula. Hannah has happily traveled back to her homeland several times, and in keeping with family tradition, enjoyed causing mayhem in the Highlands. Visit her website at hannahreedbooks.com.
