Duncan glanced at the chief inspector, but his expression was unreadable.
Caroline looked to Donald for what seemed like guidance, but the older man did not respond.
Finally, Caroline said, "I'll come to headquarters tomorrow morning."
"Very good," Wallace replied as Smythe entered the kitchen with two other policemen Duncan had never seen before. "You'll need to clear out, I'm afraid. Our forensic team is going to be here a while," the chief inspector added.
Donald rose from his chair, saying, "Come on, Lad. Let me give ye a lift back to the inn. Yer not fit to drive."
Duncan nodded and forced himself up from the chair, feeling shakier than ever.
"Donald, do you think I could stay with Skye tonight?" Caroline asked as the two men walked from the kitchen.
Donald turned around, with some effort, and faced Caroline. The day's ordeal had taken a toll on him as well.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Dear," Donald answered, then continued his walk out of the castle with Duncan.
Chapter 18 - Another 15 Minutes of Fame
"How do ye fit in this wee thing?" Donald kept asking.
The sight of him trying to drive the Vauxhall would have been humorous under other circumstances. Duncan gathered from his friend's cool response to Caroline that he, too, had seen the glances exchanged between the widow and Constable Ainsley. Somehow, in a small way, this gave comfort to Duncan.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell ye, Duncan," Donald said as he drove towards Taye. "Ye are no MacNab."
Duncan was flabbergasted. Was this a time to talk clan heritage?
He took a deep breath before he lost his mind and responded, "Why would you pick a time like this to tell me that?"
"I told ye. I've been meaning to mention it for a while. I know yer no MacNab because of Bluie. Now hear me out," Donald said, lifting his hand from the steering wheel.
Duncan decided to bite his tongue. He was too exhausted to argue with Donald, anyhow.
"The night ye almost fell from the castle, I saw something. I saw a blue mist swirling around the crenels of the castle when I drove up. First I thought it was just me headlights, creating that blue shade. But later, when I found out what happened to ye up there, I realized it was Bluie that saved ye from the fall. It 'twas she, that spared ye, certain as I sit here driving this car. Dae ye ken? She wouldn't be sparing no MacNab. I reckon she's taken a fancy to ye, ye being a Menzies and all."
Donald turned the Vauxhall into the car park of the inn. After getting Duncan situated in the pub near the fire with a pint, the innkeeper announced he needed to find Skye.
"I must break the news to her meself," he said.
It was late afternoon and Duncan felt exhaustion creep into every joint and bone, all of his being. The vicar had been correct, hewn stone had blocked his path, and no crooked route could take Duncan around it. He did not finish his pint, but instead went to his room and collapsed on the bed, eager for sleep. Despite his exhaustion, sleep did not come. He replayed the exchange between Caroline and Ainsley a hundred times in his mind.
There was the look from Ainsley that said, Don't worry, you can count on me, I'll always be loyal to you, we can ride this out, I can take this, there's nothing to fear, and a million other sentiments in that split second. In return, she volunteered an expression filled with gratitude, appreciation, confidence, even pride in him. He might be tempted to believe he had imagined it or misinterpreted the trade, but Donald had seen it too and drawn the same conclusion. The older man's uncharacteristic cool response to Caroline in the kitchen confirmed he saw what passed between them. Duncan had no proof, but he knew it as sure as he knew anything. He no longer needed scientific evidence. His gut told him the truth.
Somehow, Ainsley and Caroline had become involved. He fully understood how the younger Ainsley would be attracted to her. Perhaps he used the information Peter shared with him regarding Stuart's plans as a way to get close to her. Ainsley most likely went straight to Caroline with Stuart's plot to murder his wife.
Duncan imagined her weighing the entire situation in her mind. She'd already wasted years of her life with Stuart. She had been stuck with an abusive husband from a young age. No doubt Stuart took advantage of her youth. Marrying an older, wealthy Scotsman with a castle must have seemed romantic at the time. Little did she know he was in the hole financially, and no knight in shining armor. Discovering he planned to kill her must have spurred her genius to create a plan of ultimate revenge.
* * * * *
Duncan returned to Edinburgh a few days later. He stuck around in Taye to observe the investigation as well as give and receive comfort from Donald and Skye. The innkeeper had warned him that some would not take kindly to his involvement in the whole mess, and that proved correct. Wallace kept him abreast of everything.
They discovered no evidence to implicate Caroline in any way. No surprise there, she was a genius after all. Julia miraculously survived her fall, but would need months in therapy to regain full use of her legs. Eventually, she gave a statement. Stuart's niece claimed she had no knowledge of any involvement by Caroline. Julia corroborated Peter's statements. Peter had confided in his sister, without telling Ainsley, and she had passively been involved in the plot to turn the tables on their uncle. She never believed anyone would go through with the crime.
Ainsley kept quiet, refusing to cooperate. Wallace did not discover a clear motive for his involvement, unless it was a long range plan to blackmail Peter. But, Duncan had a theory, and he shared it with the chief inspector.
He believed that Ainsley, sweet on Caroline and seeing an opportunity for gain, confided in her. She had the real brains, and it was most likely she who came up with the plot to kill Stuart. Peter was an easy fall guy, if they'd need one. The claim that she knew nothing about the electronic life insurance payments was contradicted by the fact that the estate paid property insurance premiums by check. She waited two years to file the claim, so the truth would be too cold to uncover. She'd be free of the abusive husband, 11 million pounds richer, and off into the sunset with Ainsley. Peter might have an overdose or some other premature end, later. Julia's knowledge of events became the fly in the ointment.
"Julia and you, Duncan," Wallace had interjected.
At first, Caroline had attempted to continue the habit of speaking with him by phone, but her calls became fewer and fewer as the days passed. He kept an emotional distance between them during these conversations, deeply afraid he would waver and disregard the truth he knew. He loved her that much even now. She'd finally told him she was returning to America to recuperate from everything. She did not ask him to join her. His blood boiled when he remembered he'd requested the police check on Caroline. He'd given Ainsley the perfect cover to spend time with her, and plot their next step.
Lawful and General denied the claim in its entirety, citing the murky circumstances of Stuart's death, and Caroline's attorneys filed a lawsuit. Duncan predicted a settlement would be reached with Caroline profiting in some way monetarily. Trial dates still had not been set for the others involved. Unless Ainsley turned on Caroline, she'd get away with it. Duncan suspected she had a backup plan for her accomplice as well, in case he betrayed her.
Other than sharing with Wallace, Duncan mostly kept his ideas to himself regarding the reality of the crime. Without proof, there was no point in spouting his theories. He did point out to Wallace that Stuart's time of death could have been much earlier than previously thought. He put forth that the recorded time of death could be manipulated by keeping the body in cooler or warmer conditions. Caroline might even have been present when Stuart died. As it was, Ainsley was able to cover up and overlook any evidence that might immediately point to murder instead of an accident. The young constable's relationship with Skye was a front to keep anyone from suspecting where his real romantic interests lay.
Duncan believed it was always in the cards for Ainsley to do away with Peter. No one
would question an overdose or accident. Perhaps Julia would need to be dealt with as well, depending on what her brother had shared with her. Ainsley and Caroline would be free of Stuart and free to enjoy the millions of pounds from the insurance claim.
His arrival had changed their plans, made them ramp up their time schedule. He wondered if Caroline had ever cared for him. Were her affections a diversion, to keep him occupied and distracted? If so, she succeeded like clockwork. Did she and Ainsley laugh about him behind his back? His thoughts tormented him. Still, he felt there was something real in their relationship. Would she have welcomed him on her trip to the States if he hadn't cooled towards her?
* * * * *
Duncan licked his wounds at his parents' house on holiday from L and G. He slept hours each day, escaping his misery as best he could. Even Angus gave him a wide berth, allowing him the time he needed to recover from a broken heart.
He should have seen the signs, so clear in hindsight. The sermon about hewn stone, finding A Scandal in Bohemia, the payments by check for property insurance, and Johan's game theory results. Even Donald's talk of Bluie troubled him. The mist he encountered on the north side of the castle, could that have been Bluie trying to separate him from Caroline? The entire scene played out on the lawn by the north side of the castle went through his mind, over and over. He thought long and hard about all these things.
Stuart's death might be justified, if one really stretched the idea, as self-defense -- if there hadn't been a cover up. What if Stuart slipped, struggling with Caroline, and fell to his death? Duncan had begged her to leave Castle Taye and she'd refused. That confirmed her involvement, that and the looks passed between she and Ainsley. Duncan wished with all his being that she had left Taye and that he'd never discovered the truth.
He imagined they were together now in blissful ignorance. In any case, now he had a woman who had bested him just like Holmes; someone he could always refer to as the Woman, as his literary hero did. Someone or something had definitely tried to warn him off the Woman, but he had chosen not to listen.
What of his own near demise? Had someone wanted to murder him that day? Someone definitely stole his notes, in all likelihood Julia. Was Caroline there to push him from the battlement or save him? Was his escape Bluie's doing, as Donald believed? He would probably never know.
"Duncan, Duncan!" his mum shouted as she entered the house, the strain in her voice startling him from his breakfast. He turned to see Margaret Dewar standing where the hallway met the kitchen, trembling, ghostly white, tears in her eyes.
"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, afraid something horrible had occurred.
His mum usually helped out at the church at this time. Only an emergency would bring her home like this, in the middle of the day.
"Oh, Duncan. This, this is what's wrong!" Margaret sobbed, holding up a newspaper.
Duncan had not noticed she had a paper with her. Her hands shook uncontrollably and the individual pages hit each other, creating a loud rustling sound. He stood and walked to his mother, glancing from her to the headline as he came. SCOTTISH BLACK WIDOW topped the front page of the Daily Record. The Daily Record was a tabloid, and it surprised him that his mum would read such. He was about to ask her to calm down when he got a look at the photos below the headline.
There, in black and white, were pictures of Duncan and Caroline embracing in the lobby of the Balmoral, entering the elevator together, and kissing in front of the massive Christmas tree.
"What?" Duncan said aloud, his face contorting .
"Yes, they're saying you were involved! They mention you by name, Duncan," Margaret continued, sobbing.
Duncan grabbed the rag from his mum and tried to read the article. The gist of it said he was involved with and covered up Caroline's role in Stuart's death.
"How can they say this? I denied the claim," Duncan said, then observing his mum's tears, he added, "don't worry it's just a gossip magazine."
"No, you don't understand, Duncan. People from The Scotsman and The Herald are outside right now. A man from The Daily Express just tried to question me. He said you could be investigated!"
Margaret gasped and threw herself into a chair, cradling her head in her folded arms on the kitchen table.
"I read the article. It quotes villagers from Taye who saw you kissing her there too."
Epilogue
It took just one day for Duncan to be released from his position at Lawful and General. He had no idea who could have taken those photos or given them to the press, but he figured it played into Caroline's scheme somehow. Perhaps she feared he would find proof of her involvement or convince Ainsley to turn on her. Sure, the story cast a shadow on her character, but she'd left for the States the day it hit the papers. Those articles discredited him enough so that no one would trust any evidence he might produce now. She truly was a genius. She'd bested him easily. His ruined career and reputation, along with a broken heart, left him in a deep depression.
Weeks later, his belongings from the London office arrived. Duncan assumed they'd been dissected during L and G's internal investigation of his activities. Angus opened the box for his brother, who was too despondent to care about anything anymore.
"Look at this, Dee," Angus said, holding up a small package wrapped in brown paper and a chord. "See what's inside, will you?" Angus encouraged.
He was worried about his older brother who had taken such a beating in his personal and professional life.
"You open it," Duncan directed, without interest.
Angus tore the wrapper off.
"By Gee! Someone wants to cheer you up. See here, there's a note from Angela," Angus declared, pulling a small slip from inside the front cover.
Margaret Dewar did not permit cursing in her home, so Angus had to get creative with his expletives.
"It says, 'Dear Duncan. I'm sorry for the unfair way you've been treated. Most everyone knows you are blameless. Thank you for all you did for my career. You were the best boss I ever had. Please accept this as a token of my gratefulness. Sincerely, Angela.'"
Angus placed a small book in front of his brother. Duncan glanced at the title, Travels with Holmes: A Modern Guide to the Steps of Sherlock.
"Wasn't that thoughtful," Angus said wistfully. He continued, "I wish she cared about me the way she cares for you."
Duncan was too depressed to mind, and pushed the book away.
"Hey!" Angus shouted.
Seeing his brother disregard a gift from Angela lit a fire in him.
"I don't know what's wrong with you. You've been sitting here for weeks, letting everyone fuss over you. Well, we're getting sick of it! So you lost your job, lots of people do. You've been cleared by the police of any crime, that's the main thing. You've got a flat in London worth a fortune. You have friends that care about you, that have been trying endlessly to cheer you, like Donald and Skye. Good grief! I've had to be nice to that big Swede so many times I could puke! He keeps calling here, wanting to speak with you. He's threatening to come visit and Mum gave him the go ahead! You can do anything with your life right now. Not many get that chance!" Angus hurled words at his brother before stomping out of the kitchen and slamming a door so hard, the house shook.
Duncan stared after his brother. He was right. He did need to do something, move on from this mess somehow. He sat at the table a few moments more. He wouldn't let the Woman take everything from him. An idea began to take root in his mind. Duncan fired up his laptop and began typing a business plan for his new venture. After all, the MacNab clan motto was Timor Omnis Abesto, Let Fear Be Far from All. It would be his motto as well.
I hope you enjoyed the Merlon Murders. Below is a sample of Duncan's next adventure, The Cook's Comeuppance:
Duncan braced himself for landing. He didn't enjoy flying, but when summoned by the Tormes Foundation for the Arts he did not have a choice. The president of the foundation had met with him in Edinburgh last week, requesting his services. Since then, e
verything had moved at light speed, resulting in the foundation's jet whisking him out of Scotland earlier that morning.
His stomach dropped to his knees as the small jet took a sudden plunge. Was that wind shear? He glanced out his window in time to see the plane's left wing dip alarmingly close to the ground before jolting back up towards the sun. The jet threw him sideways towards the aisle and back into an upright position before dropping again in altitude. Duncan slipped a quick prayer to God, pleading for a safe landing. Why hadn't the plane touched down already? After a moment of more severe jostling, he opened his eyes, surprised to see the plane diving into a crevasse-like narrow valley. The wings bobbled several more times before the landing gear slammed into terra firma, plastering him back into his seat.
When the plane came to a stop Duncan was not ready to move, feeling ripe in the gills.
"Are you all right?" asked the lone steward. "You look a little pale. The landings here do that sometimes," he added.
He wondered if the steward meant they turned the passengers mint green.
"I'm fine," Duncan replied, unbuckling his seat belt.
As he stepped from the plane, apprehension hit him right in the gut. This was not Madrid, and it was not Toledo. He found himself on what must have been a private airstrip in a tapered basin surrounded by cliffs. He had assumed he would land in a major city. On the tarmac sat a black stretch limousine complete with door held open by a man in uniform. The steward scampered down the stairs behind Duncan, carrying his suitcase. He watched as the chauffeur lifted the luggage and placed it in the boot, then returned for his briefcase.
"Where are we headed?" he asked the driver.
The older man directed Duncan's gaze with the palm of his gloved hand towards a small fortress in the distance. Great, thought Duncan, that makes me feel better. At first, this job sounded like an ideal opportunity. He was beginning to wonder about that now. He needed the work, and this promised to pay well. Since his career as vice president in charge of forensic investigations derailed, he had spent all his time starting a consulting firm. The Tormes Foundation for the Arts was the first paying customer to come his way.
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 18
