In a tone so low no one else could hear Donald said, "Why don't ye tell me what went on here today, so we get this straightened out as quickly as possible, dae ye ken? And I don't have time for ye to haver."
Donald nodded his head towards those at the table and Duncan understood what he meant. He wanted to get his side of things in a hurry, without too much talk, before Constable Ainsley made his way over.
"I spent the morning questioning Caroline, uh Mrs. Menzies, and she gave me a tour of the place." Duncan paused as Donald gave him a smirk. He decided to ignore it and continued, "I needed to examine the battlement for my investigation. When I finished looking at the evidence, I tried to enter the castle, but someone had locked me out."
He paused and looked at Donald, who nodded his head as if he understood everything Duncan said.
He went on, "I called you because I was worried about…"
Donald cut in with, "Mrs. Menzies," and smirked again.
"Yes," Duncan lowered his voice to a whisper, "something is not right about Stuart's death and I figured if someone locked me out, they had a devious reason."
Lincoln sat up and placed his head in Duncan's lap. Duncan was grateful for the added warmth and managed to stroke the dog on the head while his conversation with Donald continued.
"What happened next, my boy?" Donald asked.
"I was waiting for you to show, looking out for your headlights… "
"Next to the hole in the wall?" his friend asked with an eyebrow raised high on his forehead.
"Yes!"
"About fifteen meters above the ground, in the sleet and ice?"
"I was not thinking clearly, I was so worried about her," Duncan hissed his last word. "The next thing I knew, she attacked me with a sharp instrument, like a walking stick, and tried to push me off the battlement."
He recounted his tale all in one breath and now he gasped for air. He was still shivering and felt bone chilled. Donald sat nodding at him, but said nothing for a moment.
Then Donald stood and announced to the whole room, "It's been nothing but an honest misunderstanding. We can all go home."
Duncan was ready to yell in protest, but noticed a slight hand gesture from Donald that read, Sit tight. Something told him he could trust this man. Constable Ainsley looked disappointed as Donald had a word with him apart from the others. Soon, Ainsley left, but not before hugging Caroline good-bye. So much for unbiased law enforcement. He was now sure William Ainsley had a personal interest in Mrs. Menzies. Julia also disappeared. Donald asked Duncan to join him and Caroline at the kitchen table. Lincoln moved with him across the kitchen while the innkeeper poured some whiskey he found into a glass, to help warm Duncan.
"Now, I've questioned all parties involved here and I'm fairly certain of what happened. So ye all just sit, drink, and listen while I explain it to ye."
Donald paused and looked at Caroline and Duncan as if to gain their agreement.
He continued, "All was fine until this afternoon when Mr. Dewar here went up to the roof. After examining the crenels up there, in the rain mind ye, the door got stuck. This was no doubt due to the wood swelling from the weather."
The innkeeper/special constable paused a split second to let the idea sink into Duncan's head. He continued before Duncan could protest or disagree.
"No matter what caused it, the door was stuck. Ye assumed someone locked ye out and panicked, worried of course for the safety and health of ye, Caroline."
Donald turned to her with a fatherly glance. He took a long breath and gave the others a chance to say something. Neither did.
"Mr. Dewar called me and asked me to check on ye," turning to Caroline, "which I did of course. Miss Caroline convinced me all was well and said she would go up and let ye in the house, which she tried to do. But, being a sensible lass, she first put on a rain jacket and brought an umbrella since it was pouring by then."
Duncan looked at Caroline for the first time since coming to the table. He thought about how hospitable she'd been today and how playful she was on the stairs. Why had he assumed she tried to harm him, even kill him? She did not look away from Donald, her face frozen in an expressionless state.
Donald finished, "The lass tried to tap ye on the shoulder with her umbrella since ye dinnae hear her calling, the wind being so loud. Ye turned at the wrong moment and got poked in the shoulder, stumbled back, and luckily for ye, slipped on a patch of ice, hitting yer head in the process."
Duncan began to seriously doubt that Caroline ever meant him any harm.
"So the door was unlocked when you arrived up there?" Duncan asked her.
Caroline looked at Duncan, deciding if she would speak to him ever again.
"Yes, it was unlocked," she replied, moving her eyes back to Donald.
Silence fell on the room. Duncan felt like a fool. He most likely had another concussion as well. Caroline was too angry and traumatized over the whole ordeal to say anything else. It was Donald who first spoke.
"Duncan, don't ye want to say something to Caroline?"
Donald raised his eyebrows high on his forehead again and tucked the edges of his mouth under his red cheeks in a smile.
"I'm sorry. I totally lost my head today. Please try to forgive me. I won't trouble you again."
He didn't know where that last part came from. He did want to trouble her again, but rambled on because he was uncomfortable at the moment. He wanted to trouble her for the rest of their lives.
She glanced his way and said, "Let's forget about it. Please let yourselves out when you're ready. I need to rest now." With that, she left the kitchen.
"Finish yer whiskey and I'll follow ye back to the inn," Donald declared.
Duncan downed the last swallow of his drink, grabbed his briefcase and tool bag, which someone brought down from the roof for him, and tottered to his car. He was sore all over and his head ached.
Chapter 2 - The Hermit of Taye
Duncan slept late. He tried to ignore the steady knocking on his door. Whoever wanted in was persistent.
Finally, he shouted, "Go away!"
He grabbed for the top of his head as a severe, dull pain pushed against his skull, the result of his yell. The knocking stopped. As the pain receded, he rolled to his left. His back, abdomen, and legs were sore. Yesterday's events poured through his mind, weaving between a persistent, throbbing ache.
It was ten a.m. and he hoped he could go back to sleep. He needed to escape, to get away from this debacle. He drifted in and out of consciousness for another hour before attempting a shower. Filthy from his fall, he had gone straight to bed last night, paying no heed to his concussion. Navigating the tiny stall was difficult under the best of circumstances, his injuries made it almost impossible now. The cascade of hot water felt wonderful, but he had to hunch his back to fit under the spray, and that hurt. He bumped into the shower walls whenever he turned. He hadn't suffered this way since he was a boy.
At first, Duncan hid the beatings from his parents. He covered his bruises with long sleeves or trousers. But when he came home with a black eye, the truth couldn't be avoided. He got caught applying his mother's under eye concealer to the bruise. It was still a humiliating memory, even after all these years, and an event for which he was teased unmercifully by his brothers and sisters. When questioned by his father, Angus covered for Duncan. Both boys said it was Duncan's first fight. It turned out to be the last, since Angus thrashed Duncan's tormentor. Angus didn't admit to that, though. They told their parents the brawl took place off school grounds, thus avoiding a dreaded meeting with the principal. Angus assured them the assailants were unknown. Mr. and Mrs. Dewar bought their story, but insisted eleven-year-old Duncan enroll in a self defense class at the local Dojo.
He shut off the water, grabbed a towel and eased out of the stall. He began the painstaking ordeal of dressing. Fifteen minutes later, he was well garbed, except for his feet. When he bent to put on his socks, a sharp pain shot through his lower back. Socks and
shoes would have to wait. He sat at his room's small, round table and considered his options. He could hole up in his room until he felt better and then continue his investigation from Taye, or he could drive home today and continue his work from the Edinburgh office. Another choice was to join his staff in London. The latter options would require a return to Taye to meet with law enforcement and tidy up any loose ends.
Every time Duncan visited Castle Taye, disaster struck. He recalled his first meeting with Caroline and how it turned nasty. Then, he was almost run down by Peter. Yesterday, he nearly fell to his death. Staying in Taye could be pushing his luck. He had not completed his field work, but an analysis of the crime scene photos might suffice.
His thoughts drifted to Caroline. They got along just fine, away from the castle. He did not want to leave her. Yet, he'd foolishly said he wouldn't trouble her again. Duncan decided he would leave for Edinburgh before lunch. He knew he needed some perspective on his situation and maybe a trip home would deliver that.
He carefully lifted his right foot and rested it on his left knee, easing a sock on and then a shoe, before repeating the process for his left foot. Then, he staggered down to the lobby.
Donald sat behind the desk as usual. The investigator tried to manage a smile. The proprietor gave him a peculiar look, then let out a laugh.
"Duncan, ye must start looking in the mirror before ye leave yer room!" Donald spurted out between guffaws and pointed to a mirror above the mantle.
He tottered towards the hearth. In the mirror, he could see why the innkeeper snickered. Duncan looked like a jester. In his efforts to get dressed, he had forgotten to comb his hair. His thick locks, already in need of a trim, clumped together in various patches. Each pointed away from his head at a different angle. He had mismatched his trousers and shirt as well. He could use a shave.
Disgusted, he turned to face Donald just as Caroline Menzies entered the premises. She looked brilliant in a soft blue cape and matching skirt, perfectly coiffed. He thought today couldn't get any worse. She drew back when she saw him, stunned. She turned to Donald, who still snickered.
"Go on, it's alright to laugh at him."
Obtaining this permission, she and Donald both burst into peals of laughter. Duncan shuffled closer to them. He tried to stifle his own chuckles. Laughing hurt too much. Relieved to hear Caroline laugh, he reasoned she was not holding a grudge against him if she could chortle at him this way. He leaned on the counter as the others calmed their hysterics. It took a while for the giggles to subside.
"Does anyone care that I'm injured?" Duncan asked, incredulous.
"Ye're not hurt so bad that ye couldn't yell at me this morn when I wanted to check on ye!" Donald snorted before breaking into another round of laughs, pounding the reception desk with his palm.
Caroline's shoulders moved up and down in silent amusement. The laughter allowed the three of them to blow off some of the strain from yesterday.
"You do look terrible," Caroline said sympathetically, rubbing Duncan's forearm with her hand.
A vision of himself in the torn running suit, covered in leaves, flashed across his mind. He bought a new wardrobe to impress this woman, yet she somehow always came upon him looking like a tramp.
Donald was still chortling when Caroline asked if she could buy Duncan lunch. He was sure he looked like he needed a handout. He had thought she would never speak to him again, after last night, so he jumped at her offer.
As they progressed towards the dining room, Donald called after him, "I'd tamp that thing down before I scared the vicar!"
The innkeeper's laughter trailed after them as they took their seats. They both chose the Cullen Skink, a fish broth the waitress claimed was a specialty of the house, and fresh baked bread. Duncan stared at the girl across the table. Caroline looked completely refreshed, while he resembled a lunatic. She eyed him over and smiled.
* * * * *
Duncan blasted the heater as his Vauxhall rolled down the A9 towards Edinburgh, a smile on his face. He called his mum to let her know he was on his way. She promised to get everyone together for dinner. With luck, he would arrive well before dark.
Donald seemed truly disappointed when he announced he was leaving.
"It's not because I laughed at ye, is it?" Donald asked.
He assured him it wasn't. The two men were building a friendship. The owner of the Blue Bell promised he would keep room nine available for his return. That was fine with Duncan. The only real drawback to that room was the size of the shower and the instability of its floor. He still feared it would collapse every time he used it. He figured he'd need about two weeks to put together his case. Then, he'd be back at the Blue Bell.
He packed his belongings and a bell boy, probably the only one at the inn, helped him carry everything to his car. He had arrived with his briefcase, tool bag, and one small suitcase. During his stay, he had tripled his possessions. After squeezing everything in the boot, he had to squeeze himself into the car. He enjoyed the chef's creations at the Blue Bell too much, as his waistline proved. No exercise and overindulging took its toll.
The conditions were clear and cold this afternoon. Duncan enjoyed the scenery he missed on the trip to Taye. He remembered the storm and poor visibility. This was far more pleasant. He wished he had time to drive to Killin today and view the snow on Ben Lawers that Donald assured him was there, after yesterday's storm. His body still hurt, but he was deliriously happy. He replayed his lunch conversation over in his mind all the way to Edinburgh. Duncan was trying to figure out what to say when Caroline got the ball rolling.
"Have you noticed that things always go a little haywire whenever our paths cross?"
She shifted her glance from Duncan to the table. Her tone was soft, as if she were shy. Duncan waited for her to continue.
"Why do you think that is, Duncan?" she asked, putting the ball in his court while fixing her gaze on him.
He wanted to remain professional, but it drove him mad to hear her say his name in that intimate tone. He struggled to stay calm and forced himself to hold her stare while he took several deep breaths.
"I think things run off the rails because we're crazy about each other," he blurted out.
He had not meant to say it, but there it was. He waited for a response, and in those few moments he feared he had misjudged the situation, that she would scoff and reject him. But then the most wonderful thing happened. A smile slowly played across Caroline's face. A smile that told him all he needed to know.
Duncan continued, "I felt something the minute I laid eyes on you, Caroline. I wanted to impress you, but things always went terribly wrong."
"Like your shoe in the mud?" she interjected.
"Yes, like my shoe in the mud. I wanted to get to know you under different circumstances. I'm here to investigate your late husband's death."
He lowered his voice and tried to be as gentle as possible with his tone. He did not want to upset her or bring up Stuart, but this part of their situation needed to be addressed.
"It isn't professional of me to be involved with you. I needed to wait until everything was over and then pursue you," he added.
Caroline smiled from ear to ear now. So, she did feel something for Duncan. She reached across the table and placed her hand upon his. Electricity ran from her touch up his arm to his shoulder. He could tell from her expression she still had no idea of the effect she had on him.
"I don't care about any of that, Duncan."
She spoke his name again and he instinctively leaned towards her and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. With her free hand she seized his and held it to her cheek, closing her eyes. If possible, he would have eloped with her to Gretna Green on the spot. They still married people there.
She continued, with her eyes shut, "I only care about you. Can't you turn the claim over to someone else, so we can be together?"
Duncan sighed and she opened her eyes. They were clear blue today. He leaned back in his
chair and she dropped his hand. Duncan grabbed both her hands and held them tightly.
"I can't do that, Caroline. I need to see this through. The only way is for me to go back to my office and finish as much of this case as I can. We'll have to wait to be together until this is all over."
"What if that's too late?"
A sense of dread came over Duncan and he asked, "Why would it be too late?"
"I don't know. But last night, you almost fell off the battlement. I realize that anything can happen. I don't want to lose you," Caroline answered, genuine worry reflected in her tone.
"Caroline, I want you to consider leaving this place, now. I feel that if you stay here, at Castle Taye, something terrible might happen. I felt it on the North side, yesterday, and I still feel it now. Come to Edinburgh for the next two weeks."
He was now able to articulate what he had been feeling the last few days. Duncan operated more on intuition right now than on facts. This was foreign territory for him, but his concerns were real. Away from the castle, they conversed congenially, logically. There was something awful going on at Stuart's ancestral home and whatever it was, he did not want it to affect Caroline.
He watched as her expression transformed from that of worry to tranquility. That was the word he would use to describe her, tranquil. She smiled at him.
"I can't leave here. I've told you, this is my home. I think we're letting our fears run away with us. I will be fine, and if you work hard, in two weeks we can be together."
Duncan wanted to argue, but the waitress interrupted the discussion, placing their lunches on the table. As he spooned his soup, Duncan's spirits fell. Perhaps she would choose Castle Taye over him in the end, maybe she already had. Her smile interrupted his dark musings.
"You know, you really look like the hermit of Taye right now," she said, glee filling her tone.
"Who?" Duncan asked, perplexed at the change of subjects.
"The hermit of Taye. I've a likeness of him in a book in the library. He lived in a cave on the hill behind my house."
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 2
