“You know what I mean. You were fourteen once. What does a fourteen-year-old girl want?”
“A fifteen-year-old boy.”
Michaelson shot me a withering look.
“Okay, then she wants…to be older,” I said simply. “At that age I couldn’t wait to grow up.”
“That’s what terrifies me,” Michaelson said softly. “Worse yet, I have no earthly idea what to get her for her birthday. She’s past dolls and Legos. That’s where my inspiration dried up.”
“You haven’t got her a present? Her birthday was yesterday.”
Michaelson winced. “Got her a gift card to this shop she likes, but I don’t know what else to give her.”
“Something to make her feel grown up.” I sipped my drink, trying to think creatively. “I know, how about bringing her to the Lodge for a fancy dinner. Let her dress up and have a grown-up evening out.”
Michaelson seemed to be considering the idea. “But I’m already overdue. I need something to bring home tonight.”
“Then make a reservation,” I said. “They owe you. You’ve sorted out two murders on the premises with a minimal amount of fuss. The least they can do is get you a good table in the dining room for tonight.”
“I don’t think I could do it tonight. I have two suspects in custody, and…”
“Exactly,” I interrupted. “No better time. You’re off duty now. Things are only going to get busier once you get to the station tomorrow. Paperwork, statements, lawyers. For tonight, your suspects are safely in jail. We’ll be busy at the awards banquet and out of your hair. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
“I guess I could try,” Michaelson said, looking uncharacteristically nervous.
“Do it,” I insisted. “Call her and tell her to put on her best dress and go spruce yourself up a bit.”
“You really think she’ll like it?”
“She’ll love it,” I said.
Michaelson rose and pulled out his wallet. I gave him a friendly shove toward the door. “Go on. I’ve got this round.”
* * *
—
I finished my drink and gave myself a pat on the back for having a heretofore unprecedented success in the relationship counseling department. I paid the tab and did my best to pass through the lobby without being noticed. I wasn’t ready to start answering questions just yet. My lip had begun to bleed again and, in spite of the topical application of alcohol, I sensed it was starting to swell. I held a tissue to the side of my mouth and, looking down, managed to run straight into Hinatu coming out of the business center.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Had a bit of a run-in with a door,” I said, not willing to admit I’d goaded a suspect into slapping me across the face.
“That needs to be tended to. Will you allow me?”
I was starting to feel a bit woozy, so I allowed Liam and myself to be led away to Hinatu’s room. He directed me to the settee and brought me a wet cloth and ice before fetching a blue tube of ointment, which he placed on the table in front of me. Liam lay down on my feet like a furry hot water bottle.
“Keep some ice on that for twenty minutes or so, and then we can use this cream. It works like magic. By tonight no one will suspect that you have been bested by a door.”
“You sound like you have experience with this.”
“Believe it or not, I once pursued kickboxing as a hobby. One tends to acquire an assortment of injuries. With this cream I managed to hide most incidents from my wife.”
“Wouldn’t have picked you for a kickboxer,” I said, trying not to smile as it made my lip throb.
“I do not seem ruthless enough to you?”
“No, but you’re a gentleman, and it seems like a rather rough sport.”
“Life is a rough sport,” Hinatu said philosophically. “I have learned to hold my own, as you say. Even in the brutal whisky competition.”
“I’m so sorry for all this. I know it has been unpleasant, but you know that this prejudice is just a small fraction of the industry. Quality distillers do not fear competition.”
“As I have said before, the only opinions I value are those of my friends. Speaking of which, how is Grant?”
“In serious condition, I’m afraid.”
“And have you and the inspector found the culprit?”
“The police have two suspects in custody.”
“And is one of them Trevor Simpson?”
I grimaced. “No. No, that was unfortunate. The police made a mistake. He’s been released.”
“But you feel you have the right men now?”
I removed the cloth from my frozen lip. “I believe so, yes. Bruce Keenan was a former business associate of Sir Richard and Archie MacInnes. He’s been arrested along with a young man from the Lodge’s staff.”
“Try to keep the ice in place for a little longer,” Hinatu chided, gently wetting the cloth once more and putting it back on my mouth. He scrutinized my face closely. “Am I correct in thinking that you still have some lingering doubts about these suspects?”
“I hate to admit it, but yes. Just a little bit,” I said, holding my thumb and forefinger fractionally apart. “I know it’s silly, it’s just a gut feeling, but it goes against all the proof Michaelson has.”
Hinatu continued to look at me searchingly, his head tilted to one side.
“I don’t suppose you can ever be one hundred percent sure without a confession,” I said.
“It is important not to be hasty in our judgments of others,” Hinatu said somberly. “The consequences can be deadly. Even when it is something we consider a small matter.”
I looked up and noticed that Hinatu seemed uncharacteristically distracted. He’d pulled a small flat jade stone from his pocket and kept rubbing the indentation in the top with his thumb. Not at all his usual calm, poised self.
“Being with Archie and Richard again these past few days brought back a lot of memories from our younger years,” Hinatu confessed, “good and bad.” He sat lost in thought for a long moment before continuing. “Today my mind has been filled with a bad memory from our days at Oxford. A mistake not unlike the one the police made here.”
“What kind of bad memory?” I mumbled from behind the ice.
Hinatu studied the fire intently. I was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to answer.
“We were third-year students,” he began. “During the spring of that year a number of us had things stolen from our rooms. Nothing especially large or expensive, but it was becoming a nuisance, so a group of us went to the police and filed a report. They made a cursory review of the matter. I suspect petty theft wasn’t high on their priority list and so they pushed it off on school security, advising them to check into the staff. What is the expression? ‘The butler did it.’ ”
My smile turned to a grimace. “That’s right.”
“I can’t remember exactly how it began, but somehow the spotlight fell on one of the night guards. A man named William Gates. Nothing could be proved one way or the other, and he was never formally prosecuted. Still, in the end he was dismissed from his post under a cloud of suspicion.”
I didn’t mention that I’d seen the police report in the materials from the Met. I didn’t want Hinatu to know we were checking up on everyone. “Unchecked suspicions can be like a poison,” I said, thinking of the rumors surrounding Hinatu’s Takai.
“Indeed,” Hinatu agreed. “From the university’s perspective it was easier to replace Gates than to bother to clear his name. I find that there is often a sort of carelessness amongst the upper classes when it comes to the lower classes. They treat staff as if they are disposable, interchangeable even.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I murmured.
“The incident was soon forgotten and everyone went home for the summer br
eak and thought nothing of it, but shortly after we came back for the Michaelmas term of our final year, the robberies started again.”
“Then it wasn’t Gates,” I observed. “Did you ever find out who it was?”
“Yes, eventually. It turned out to be one of our fellow students. Not surprising, really—affluence often breeds boredom. However, he happened to be the son of a prominent MP, so it was all swept under the rug.”
I thought about Sir Richard. His father was an MP. Archie joked about his stealing whisky from the master’s study, and his guest register told of the constant swiping of hotel items. I’d be willing to bet he was the fellow student Hinatu was talking about.
“Unfortunately, it was too late for Mr. Gates. Unable to secure another position with the shadow on his name, he’d drowned himself in the river only a week before term began. So you see, it is imperative that you find the right man, not just the convenient one.”
I removed the ice from my mouth. “A lesson for the ages.” I sighed.
Hinatu came over and gently applied some of his cream to the side of my mouth.
I let him tend to me without fuss. He was a kind man. A good man. He deserved so much more respect from his Scottish peers. “Thank you for patching me up, but it’s getting late and I need to get changed for dinner.”
Hinatu handed me the tube of cream. “Please feel free to borrow this. I think you will find that it helps.”
He walked me to the door, and I hesitated for a moment at the threshold. This was going to be a difficult night for Hinatu. His whisky was one of the ones that had started the storm of antiforeign sentiment, it had been used to kill Sir Richard, and some of the Barley Boys had suggested that he was unwelcome at the contest now. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
“Listen,” I said, “Patrick’s going to be doing his judging thing tonight, and Grant won’t be there, so I’ll be by myself. I don’t suppose you’d like to be my escort for the evening?”
“Are you sure you wish to be seen with an old man like me?”
“I would be honored to be seen with a friend,” I insisted.
For the first time all week the smile on Hinatu’s face reached his eyes. “In that case,” he said, “I would be most honored to escort you.”
Chapter 22
As I stepped off the lift on the third floor I saw Sophie pacing back and forth outside our door. I steeled myself for what was sure to be a difficult encounter. She ran down the hallway when she saw me. Her eyes were red from crying, and the apron of her uniform was crumpled where she’d screwed up the fabric to use it as a handkerchief.
“They’ve arrested Joey,” she wailed.
“I heard.”
“They wouldn’t even let me talk to him. I have no idea what’s going on or why they did this.”
“Come inside.” I opened the door and ushered Sophie into our room, closing the door behind us. “The police have found evidence that he may have played a part in the deaths here this week,” I said.
Sophie’s face hardened and her back stiffened. “Then they’re wrong. Dead wrong. Joey’s no killer. I’ll stake my life on that.”
“It’s hard when someone we love lets us down,” I said gently. “But the evidence is there.”
“What evidence?”
“They found some of the poison used to kill Sir Richard and Mr. MacInnes in a bottle at the kennels.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “They found a bottle of poison under Mr. Simpson’s bed, and it wasn’t him, was it? They’ve let him go. Someone’s trying to make it look like Joey’s to blame,” Sophie insisted.
I looked down and Liam was licking Sophie’s knees, doing his best to be comforting. He trusted her. For that matter, he trusted Joey. He ran to him without hesitation every time. Liam was usually a flawless judge of character. He had no prejudices to cloud his judgment. I felt the flicker of doubt growing in my mind. A bottle of nicotine was proof that the killer had been at the kennels, but it wasn’t proof that the killer was Joey. If Keenan had tried to frame Trevor, there was no reason he couldn’t have tried to frame Joey as well. I comforted myself with the idea that Michaelson would need more than the bottle to convict Joey. If we were wrong, Joey would be fine. I hoped.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie. I wish I could help, but there’s nothing I can do. If Joey’s really innocent, the police will find out. They’re good at their jobs.”
“And in the meantime our lives fall into ruin.” Sophie sobbed. “It’s always the staff that takes the blame. Never you lot. We may not be rich, but we’re honest. We wouldn’t stand by and let someone’s life be destroyed by rumors and lies.”
Sophie stormed out and I let her go. She had a right to be upset, especially if this whole mess had been news to her as well. There was nothing I could do about it. My hands were tied. I thought of Hinatu’s story and shuddered. The truth would come out, but right now the ball was in the police’s court.
* * *
—
I took a quick shower and tried to put on makeup, but my heart wasn’t in it. I picked up the phone and dialed Louisa again to find out what news there was on Grant. She was back at the Larches feeding Luke.
“Try not to fret. The swelling’s going down. There’s a chance they’ll try to bring him round tomorrow,” she said. “Are you comin’ by the hospital?”
“Tomorrow,” I promised. “I told myself I wouldn’t leave here until I figured out who did this and why.”
“And have you?”
“I think so.”
“Good, then haste ye on over to the hospital tomorrow. He needs to see you there when he wakes up.”
“I’ll be there,” I whispered.
As I hung up, the tears welled in my eyes. I wasn’t a crier by nature, but the thought of Grant lying in a coma because of a poison that was meant for me threatened to completely overwhelm me. What if he didn’t wake up? What if there was permanent damage? I couldn’t help feeling a fool for having relentlessly pushed him away. If something happened to him now, I would never forgive myself. I’d fought back the weight of the fear until we’d found the culprit. Now there was nothing left to do but give in and let the sobs wrack my body.
Liam sat next to me looking distressed. He wasn’t used to this kind of display of emotion from me, and all he could think to do was to lick the salty tears from my face and hands. When the storm was spent I sat in front of the fire trying to gather my thoughts. Patrick hinted broadly that I should be ready to say a few words tonight. I could only presume he knew that we’d won an award, but I couldn’t talk about Abbey Glen without talking about Grant. I sat staring into the flames of the soulless gas fireplace, searching in vain for inspiration. I was a journalist, for God’s sake. Words and images were my stock-in-trade, but at this moment I was struggling to find the right words to pay tribute to a very special man. A man who was loved by his peers, loved by his friends, and, as I’d realized only now, loved by me.
I thought of Grant’s three-word sketch. His was the only person I’d ever considered whose words hadn’t come all at once. The first word was passionate. I’d seen that from the beginning. He was a man of depth who gave his all to his calling. His love of his whisky shone in his eyes when he spoke, and he worked with all the spirit and energy within him to handcraft a spirit of rare quality.
My second impression had been honorable. Grant was a man who would do the right thing no matter what the personal cost. He would never be a slave to privilege and rank in spite of his family background. He was occasionally gruff but always kindhearted and generous.
His third word had escaped me until now, but it came rushing in when I needed it most. Worthwhile. Grant made my life and others’ richer and more meaningful just by being a part of it. A valuable and important part of our small community and the greater whisky fraternity. And to me, whatever happened in the long r
un, he was worth taking a risk on. His three words would form the base of my tribute, and I could only hope it would resonate with his friends.
I splashed cold water on my face and started again to get ready for the gala. I was representing Abbey Glen alone and I wanted to do us proud. As I dressed, Patrick dashed through and changed into a tux before heading back down to finish his judging duties. He mentioned that Brenna had come back to the hotel to rest but wouldn’t be attending tonight’s event. Even the jealousy I’d felt for Brenna seemed to have washed away with the tears. I felt sorry for her. She obviously cared a great deal for Grant, and his accident had been a terrible shock. At least we would all sleep tonight without fear of waking to another dead body.
Hinatu’s magical cream had removed the swelling from my lip and the only mark that remained was on the inside of my mouth. When I was finally ready, Liam was the only one available to offer approval of my efforts. The red silk gown draped from the point of one shoulder to the point of the others, then grazed down the length of my hips and thighs until it reached the floor, where it pooled in a small train behind me. The effect was quite stunning, but the red color made me think of blood. When I looked in the mirror I kept seeing the blood on Grant’s head as he lay on the floor.
Liam whined softly next to me. He knew I was going out without him. I bent down and kissed the top of his head, leaving a lipstick print on his fur. “You’re right,” I said. “No crying and no whining.” I would face this night for Grant and for Abbey Glen. I would make Ben and him proud. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, ready to face the fray.
A gentle tap on the door announced Hinatu’s arrival. He presented his arm and we departed, leaving Liam to rest by the fire.
“You look stunning, my dear,” Hinatu said appreciatively.
“We’ll turn a few heads tonight,” I said, squeezing his arm. “You and I, we are the new face of the industry. The old ways deserve respect, but they can’t hold back the new flavors, the new people, and the new places. The old guard is going to have to get used to it.”
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