by Janni Nell
After a breakfast of oat porridge followed by bacon and eggs, I decided to spend the morning talking to the two remaining members of The Three M’s. It would fill in time until Casper and I went to Maitland House in the late afternoon.
Although it was a Friday, Melville and MacDuff were both retired, so I expected to find them at their respective homes. Probably sleeping off their hangovers.
As I reached the cottage of Stuart MacDuff, I was surprised to see Casper leaning against the stone wall at the edge of the MacDuff property. The sunlight made his golden hair look even brighter. I liked the way it reached his shoulders. I wanted to tell him never to cut it.
Instead I asked, “What are you doing here? Is there going to be trouble?”
“I hope not,” he replied.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I thought you might like company.”
“Okaay.”
“What?” he said. “Can’t I keep you company if I want to?”
I shrugged. “If it doesn’t bother the Powers-That-Be, it doesn’t bother me.” I walked to the front door and knocked. Casper followed.
We didn’t have to wait long before Mrs. MacDuff opened the door. She was what is commonly referred to as pleasantly plump. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled and her blond hair had been expertly cut and colored.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Anne.” Before I could introduce myself, she continued, “You’re Allegra, the paranormal investigator. Everyone in the village is talking about you.” She shook my hand then turned her attention to Casper. “Hello, Casper.”
I guess everyone in the village was talking about him too.
As Anne shook Casper’s hand, she said, “You have lovely hair.”
Hands off, Anne. He’s my guardian angel.
With an effort I kept those thoughts to myself.
“Would it be possible to speak with Stuart?” I asked.
“He’s still in bed, sleeping off the effects of last night.” A loud snore shook the house. Anne shuddered. “I cannae sleep beside him unless I wear earplugs.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Could you wake him?”
“Only if I had a death wish.” She glanced from me to Casper. “The two of you can try if you want, but I’m not going anywhere near him.” When neither Casper nor I moved, she suggested, “Maybe you could come back this evening.”
“I’ve got another engagement this evening,” I said. “But perhaps you could help us, Anne. How well did you know McEwen?”
She shrugged. “Well enough.”
“Tell me about him.”
Once again she glanced from me to Casper. Reaching out to touch a lock of his hair, she said, “I’ll tell you everything I know if you’ll let me cut Casper’s hair.”
My jaw dropped. Did she have some weird hair fetish?
“It’s alright,” she assured me. “I’m a professional. At least I was until I retired but I supplement my pension with a little snipping on the side. I’m quite good at coloring too. I’ll bet I could even match your color, Allegra.”
“My color is natural,” I said.
“Really?” She looked as though she wanted to inspect my roots to make sure. Then she turned to Casper. “How about it? Information for a haircut.”
Casper seemed amused. He glanced at me. “What do you think? Should I get a short back and sides?”
“Nooo.”
Casper’s golden locks were one of his best features.
“I won’t take much off,” promised Anne.
She wasn’t the first hairdresser to make that promise. Usually right before they lopped six inches off your hair. Luckily I no longer had to worry about that. My hair was less than two inches long. Casper, on the other hand, had a lot to lose.
Unfortunately he didn’t see it that way. “I’m happy to get a haircut in exchange for information,” he said.
Really? This seemed suspiciously like helping me. Was he purposely breaking the rules? Surely not.
Anne, grinning with undisguised delight, took us out back to a room she had set up as a little salon. Casper sat in the chair and Anne picked up her scissors.
“Don’t take too much off,” I said anxiously.
She assured me she wouldn’t. As she snipped, she began to talk. I pulled out my notebook.
“Angus McEwen came to the village five years ago. He was recently divorced and couldn’t afford to stay in the city so he bought a wee place here.”
“Why did he choose this village?” I asked, trying not to look at Casper’s golden locks tumbling onto the floor.
“There was plenty of work here,” said Anne. “Sir Alastair was renovating—or do I mean restoring?—Maitland House. Anyway, he needed a carpenter and McEwen was one of the best. Sir Alastair dinnae even mind that McEwen was always late for work.”
“What did McEwen think of Sir Alastair?”
“He never told me in so many words but I dinnae think he liked him.”
“Why not?”
Anne stopped cutting. “I dinnae know.”
“Was it because of Lady Justina?”
“Och no, McEwen disliked him right from the beginning. Long before he fell in—” She broke off abruptly and started cutting again.
“I know he was in love with Lady Justina,” I said gently. “But I believe she didn’t share his feelings.”
“Who knows what Lady Justina feels? She’s a bit of a mystery. McEwen was one of the few people in the village who’d seen her.”
I stared at Anne in surprise. “You haven’t seen her?”
“Dinnae sound so surprised. I’ll bet you haven’t seen her, either.”
This wasn’t the moment to tell her I had. I changed tack. Thinking back to the night McEwen had died, I asked Anne, “Did he often go for walks along the shore of the loch in the middle of the night?”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t really know.” She shrugged. “He was probably so pissed he dinnae know where he was. He was like that most nights – stayed at Mac’s until closing time then stumbled home. Sometimes he went in the wrong direction.”
“He didn’t go in the wrong direction on the night he died,” I said. “Douglas and I made sure he got home.”
“Then you know more about it than I do.”
“But would he leave his house and go back out?”
“Who knows? Men do funny things when they’re pissed.” Her voice was thick with disgust.
“On the night we took McEwen home, Malcolm Melville and your husband were at his house. If he went out again they were probably with him.”
“Not necessarily. Stuart was home by two o’clock. I heard him come in. Making such a racket I could’ve strangled him.”
I went over the times in my mind. We had dropped McEwen off at his house around eleven. He had gone inside with Stuart and Malcolm. Had the three of them stayed there drinking until Stuart headed home? Had McEwen then decided to take a walk along the shore of the loch alone? Somehow I didn’t think so. I had a feeling that The Three M’s had gone to the loch together. All for one and one for all. I wrote that in my notebook and underlined it.
I was so busy writing I hadn’t noticed what Anne was doing to Casper’s hair. Now I saw that she had cut it rather shorter than she had promised. It was almost as short as my own hair.
“That’s enough!” I yelled.
But she couldn’t resist a few more snips before she brushed the hair off his neck and held up a mirror for him to see the back.
“I like it,” said Casper. As if. He didn’t care what he looked like. Vanity was not something that was encouraged in a guardian angel.
I glanced at my watch. We had been here around an hour. Maybe it was safe for Anne to wake Stuart now.
When I posed the question, she said, “No bloody way. You wake him. I refuse to talk to the good-for-nothing.” She pointed down the hall. “He’s in the second room on the right.”
Should I wake him? Well, I was a paranormal investigator. I’d faced worse thing
s that a man suffering from a hangover. I marched down the hall.
As I opened his door, the smell of stale alcohol made me pause. It was revolting but it wasn’t as bad as the Stink Spells my witch friend Wanda made for her clients. Resisting the urge to hold my nose, I entered the room.
Approaching the bed, I said, “Stuart,” very loudly.
No answer. He probably couldn’t hear me above his snores.
I moved to his side. “Stuart.” Bending over, I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Wake up.”
I think he said, “Please wait.” But it could just as easily have been “piss off.”
I glanced at Casper, who had followed me into the room. He was shaking his head, warning me that I would get no sense from Stuart.
I gave it one more try. “Stuart. Wake up.” Nope, this wasn’t going to work. I would have to speak to him later.
Leaving Stuart to sleep off his hangover, I thanked Anne for talking to us, but not for cutting Casper’s hair. I wasn’t that good a liar.
After leaving the MacDuffs’ cottage, Casper and I headed down Loch Road to visit McEwen’s other friend Malcolm Melville.
At least he was awake. Unfortunately he was also smoking his first cigarette of the day. He answered my questions between coughs.
“I liked McEwen on sight,” he said. “Most of the people who move here take a while to settle into village life but McEwen fit right in.”
I thought back to my first night in the village and McEwen’s drunken attempt to flirt with me. Frankly, I wouldn’t have described that as fitting in, but maybe he fit in better with the men of the village than the women. Reminding myself that I was listening to Malcolm’s opinion rather than a hard fact, I began writing in my notebook.
Malcolm told much the same story as Anne MacDuff. McEwen was divorced. He worked as a carpenter.
“For Sir Alastair,” I put in.
“Not only him.” Malcolm lit another cigarette. This time I was the one who coughed. “McEwen worked for anyone who needed him. He did jobs all around the loch.”
“Did he have a girlfriend?” I asked.
Malcolm looked uncomfortable. “For a while, but it didn’t last.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Bess MacGregor.”
I was genuinely shocked. It was hard to imagine Bess with a man like McEwen. She seemed too smart to fall for a man who drank too much. Still, I guess love makes us all a little crazy.
Making a mental note to ask her about the relationship, I asked, “When did McEwen and Bess break up?”
“A few months ago.”
“About the time Lady Justina arrived at Maitland House?”
“Aye,” he muttered.
“Was McEwen involved with Lady Justina?” I knew the answer but I wanted to see Malcolm’s reaction.
He stared at me as though I’d gone crazy. “Lady Justina was married.” The shocked morality of his answer surprised me.
Trying to provoke a reaction, I said, “That wouldn’t stop most men. Not if she was willing.”
Malcolm drew hard on his cigarette. “Sir Alastair would kill anyone who touched his wife. I mean that literally. Och—maybe that’s what happened to McEwen. Maybe he did have an affair with Lady Justina.”
Only in his dreams. Despite the best efforts of Hollywood to persuade us otherwise, in my experience women in their twenties rarely have affairs with fifty-eight-year-old men. Unless the men are billionaires. Some people will do anything for a buck.
Referring back to Malcolm’s suggestion that Sir Alastair might have killed McEwen, I said, “I saw McEwen’s body. It’s unlikely Sir Alastair was responsible.”
Malcolm leaned forward. “Hamish said McEwen’s body was savaged by an animal. Is that true?”
An affirmative answer could have disastrous consequences for the local wildlife, especially if the villagers decided to hunt for the culprit.
I replied firmly, “The police don’t believe the body was savaged by an animal. As far as they’re concerned, McEwen’s death is nothing more than a giant hoax—at least until his body is found.”
Malcolm said, “If his body isn’t found soon, we can report him missing. But maybe we should organize a search first. It’s the least we can do.”
“Can you organize some of your friends?” I asked, surprised that he’d come up with such a good idea.
“I’ll organize the whole village,” he replied enthusiastically.
Leaving him to call around, Casper and I headed toward Mac’s. On the way Casper told me he wouldn’t be part of the search party. Apparently he had things to do. I wondered what kind of things. Eating angel cake? Sipping cocktails on Cloud 9? Joining the Ten Mile High Club? No, wait, Casper wasn’t allowed to have sex, but there was another possibility that was so obvious I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. What if he was guarding someone else?
I had always understood that he was only allowed one morsub at a time, and that the relationship was a lifetime commitment. But maybe I was wrong. Or maybe Casper was moonlighting on me.
I was surprised by the sudden stab of jealously. Casper was my guardian angel. He was mine. All mine.
Reprimanding myself for thinking like a megalomaniac dictator or a two-year-old child, which pretty much amounted to the same thing, I decided to put Casper out of my mind until we met again for our visit to Sir Alastair.
My decision lasted about ten seconds. Soon I was acutely aware of Casper’s absence. I told myself that was perfectly natural, considering he was my oldest and best friend. But was it?
Hmmm. I told myself to stop thinking about Casper. He would join me at four in the afternoon. It was only four hours, thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds until then.
* * *
Douglas, Bess and I joined the throng of people who had volunteered to search for McEwen’s body. Malcolm took charge, efficiently dividing us into groups and sending us off in different directions to comb the countryside. Douglas and I were assigned the shore of the loch near the Dedfield Rose.
The vegetation was sparse, and it wouldn’t be difficult to spot a body. But I soon realized Douglas was less interested in finding the body than in pumping me for information about Casper, whom he apparently considered his rival.
Coming straight to the point—no beating around the bush for this man—he asked, “Where’s Casper?”
I wished I knew, but as Casper hadn’t shared that information, I said, “He had things to do.”
“Is he following another lead in this investigation?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled, embarrassed at not knowing what my guardian angel was doing.
But Douglas seemed to think I was holding out on him. “You can tell me,” he said. “I promise I’ll keep it to myself.”
I stopped walking and looked at Douglas. “The truth is I don’t know where Casper is or what he’s doing.”
He studied my face and said, perceptively, “That bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. Casper has always come and gone as he pleased.”
“It’s clear you dinnae like that.” Douglas was more astute than I’d given him credit for. “Are you sure you’re not romantically involved with him?”
“Quite sure, Douglas. He’s my business partner.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all,” I said firmly.
“I dinnae believe you. Anyone can see you care about Casper.”
“No, I care what happens to Casper. There’s a difference. And why shouldn’t I care? He is my—”
“Your business partner. I know.” Stepping in front of me, he put his hands on my shoulders. I could’ve dropped him with a punch but I decided it was best to listen to what he had to say. “What you feel for Casper doesn’t have anything to do with business, does it?”
I wished I’d punched him. Trying not to let my exasperation show, I asked, “Why are you doing this, Douglas?”
“I…the first time I saw you…I felt that y
ou—and me—maybe we’d be good together.” His arms slipped around my waist. “I thought you felt it too.”
I didn’t say so but privately I couldn’t deny that, at first glance, I had been attracted to Douglas too. It was only when Casper had reappeared that I had changed my mind.
Clearly I was crazy. Casper was out of bounds. Douglas was sexy, dark and handsome. There was no reason I should hold back now.
Well, actually, there was. We were searching for a dead body. This was no time to be scratching a sexual itch.
Planting my hands firmly on Douglas’s chest, I pushed him gently away. “This isn’t the place. We should concentrate on what we came here for—to search for McEwen’s body.”
Douglas looked disappointed. “Casper is a lucky man.”
“For the last time, I’m not having a relationship with him.”
“He’s married, isn’t he?” Nobody could accuse Douglas of not being persistent.
Stifling a sigh, I said, “Casper isn’t married, I am. I’m married to my work.”
Douglas shrugged as though he was unwilling to fight my self-delusion any longer. He lapsed into silence. Apparently even his persistence had a limit.
As we continued along the shore, I pushed the thought of both Casper and Douglas out of my mind. It was time to forget about men and concentrate on work.
By three-forty-five we hadn’t found McEwen’s body. Almost four hours of tramping around the loch and nothing to show for it but muddy feet and a cold nose. Even the food Douglas had packed was gone. We’d eaten lunch hours ago and now even the little snack packets of sultanas were gone.
I turned to Douglas. “I have to get back to Furness,” I said. “I’m meeting Casper.” He raised his eyebrows as though I’d told him Casper and I were going on a date. “It’s not like that, Douglas. We’re going to Maitland House to talk to Sir Alastair.”
“Och, well, that’s all right then.”
He sounded really pissed off but at least he didn’t do anything childish like trying to delay me. We marched back to the car and drove to the village.
When we got there, Malcolm and the others were still searching. Casper was loitering outside Mac’s.
“Ready?” he asked.
I glanced down at my mud-spattered jeans. “Give me a minute to change.”
