Duncan watched his mum's future business partner jog across the street and enter the village bakery. He pondered the stones per square centimeter exerted on the chef's feet before the hubbub inside the Blue Bell drew his attention.
A crowd gathered in the pub and spilled into the lobby. Behind the desk, an employee passed out instructions and registration forms for villagers entering the holiday contests, treasure hunt, and Hogmanay events. He strolled through the inn, spotting several people he knew. Abigail Neward gave paperwork to the bellhop as her nephew, Inspector Jimmy Smythe, looked on. Donald sat on the divan with an unfamiliar woman, taking great pains explaining the festivities. The innkeeper was all smiles and twinkles, frequently patting the lady's hand. Duncan stared at the object of his friend's interest.
An attractive, well heeled woman of a certain age sat beside innkeeper. Coiffed to perfection, she exuded a quiet confidence and dignity. Duncan noticed her designer suit, Chanel, he'd guess, based upon his experiences in Spain with Sunny Bentwell. The red nubby material was perfect for a chilly day. The lady smiled and hung on every word from Donald's lips. Abigail wouldn't like this.
"Attention, everyone. Everyone, can I have your attention, please," Skye shouted.
The lass stood on a chair placed near the doorway between the pub and lobby. Duncan watched as Angus took the initiative to steady the girl by placing his hands on her hips. The investigator shot his brother a look, which Angus returned. His brother's innocent expression read, I'm just being helpful.
Skye continued, "We've decided to assign you in groups for the treasure hunt. We have many newcomers to the area with us, and all ages of participants. This way, we can be assured the teams are balanced and everyone has a fair chance. Teams will be posted in the pub tomorrow, so check back then. If anyone has any further questions, please don't hesitate to ask meself or me dad."
Angus slid his large hands to Skye's waist and placed her on the floor next to him. He whispered something in her ear and she threw her head back and laughed in spite of herself, then slapped his hand in a light-hearted manner.
"Duncan, we're heading to the market to shop for our ingredients. Schedule kitchen time for us with Donald's chef while we're gone, will you? After we get back, we're all going to head to the Christmas market at Tyne. We'll see you then," Margaret declared.
He glanced at Angela, who smiled meekly at the Scotsman before being swept away in a tide of Dewars. At least he didn't have to brave a grocery store with that bunch. Heaven help the person who got between Margaret and her biscuit components.
In a few moments the Blue Bell cleared of its visitors. Duncan caught a glimpse of the innkeeper walking his new friend to her car. He decided to wait for Donald in the lobby.
"Hallo, Donald," Duncan called from the divan.
He observed the glow on his older friend's face. His limp was noticeably improved as well.
"Yes, Laddie. Do ye need anything?"
"Aye," he responded, mimicking the innkeeper's brogue. "Information on that lass I jist spied ye with."
Donald fought off a grin as Duncan raised an eyebrow high on his forehead.
"Do ye mean the blonde?" Donald asked, feigning ignorance.
"Aye."
"That's me new neighbor, so to speak. She bought the old manor house outside of Tyne. I think she's sweet on me," he added before scurrying for the kitchen.
If Duncan's assumptions were correct, the old manor was quite an estate. Situated between the villages of Taye and Tyne, the mansion stood on 20 hectares and impressed all who passed by. This blonde Donald fancied had some purse strings. He wondered if his friend wanted to sell the inn to free up his time to pursue her.
* * * * * *
The Christmas market proved delightful. Tyne's green filled with artisans plying their wares from small huts. Duncan held Angela's hand as they sauntered between the rows of temporary shops, the aroma of roasting nuts, spices, and cider filling the air.
"So, did you decide?"
"Decide what?" Angela asked.
"On a gingerbread husband," he said, tugging on Angela's arm, forcing the lass to face him.
"I'm bucking the tradition and making a gingerbread house instead," she quipped, turning to examine a carved mouse on a vendor's display.
She tried to hide the blush she felt creeping up her face.
"We'll see," he whispered loud enough for the lass to hear.
After perusing all the market had to offer and enjoying a mulled cider, the couple departed for Taye. His family drove separately, and Duncan noted their vehicle had already returned to the inn when he arrived in his Jaguar.
"I've got wonderful news!" Donald greeted the pair at the door.
"What's that?"
"Susanne Wallace has invited us all for dinner!"
The innkeeper's excitement was palpable.
"Who's Susanne Wallace?"
"The lady from this morning, me new neighbor," Donald stated.
"Oh," Duncan said, now understanding the innkeeper's excitement.
"We're expected at eight!" Donald added before hurrying off. He shouted back over his shoulder, "Wear yer kilt, fancy dress!"
"I've got even better news," James Dewar said in a low tone.
Duncan turned to face his smiling father. James appeared relaxed after a day of shopping with Margaret. Will wonders never cease?
"You beat Mum to the last bag of coconut?" Duncan joked.
"Nae, Son. Check your phone. We've all received what they call e-vites today. I suspect there's something special in your in-box," he said.
He pulled his cellular from his pocket, wondering what his father could be hinting about. Duncan scrolled through his text messages, stopping at an announcement from The Scotsman Foundation. It read,
TSF is proud to announce its annual honorees. We congratulate you on being named one of the year's top Scotsmen for your efforts in recovering the archaeological riches at Lindisfarne. You are invited to attend our annual gala on 29 December, Hotel Balmoral Grand Ballroom, Edinburgh.
The message ended with information on how to contact the foundation to confirm his presence at the event. Duncan shook his head as his father squeezed his hand.
"We're so proud of you, Duncan," James stated.
Angela beamed at the investigator. He couldn't believe how his life had changed in less than a year.
-5-
Dinner Is A Crime
Duncan fought the urge to punch the man right in the cleft of his chin. Any holiday good spirits he had, fled when he watched Wally Wallace place his hand on the small of Angela's back, escorting her into dinner. The smug nephew of Susanne Wallace had already insulted the Scotsman several times.
They'd been told to wear dress attire, yet Walter, Call Me Wally, Wallace wore ordinary trousers, a cream turtle neck and camel suede jacket with matching fur lined collar and two large front pockets. His bespoke loafers belied the adventurous image he tried to portray. Upstart.
The Dewar men and Donald Merriwether all arrived in dress tartans, while their ladies wore evening attire. Duncan chose a modern granite plaid kilt with matching hose, garters, white shirt, formal black jacket and bow tie. Since he was unsure whether he was one hundred percent MacNab or part Menzies, he chose neutral clothes. The dark colors were the perfect foil for the green in his eyes and complimented his thick, black hair. Angela admired how the tailored jacket fit his broad shoulders and found her eyes lingering on her beau during the drive to the manor.
His father opted for a modern MacNab green tartan with black jacket, while Angus chose the traditional red and black family tartan, cream hose, white shirt with black tie and jacket. The free spirited Harold took a different route.
Harold appeared in a charcoal and purple plaid modern tartan. He donned matching hose and plain gray garters with his dark gray charcoal formal jacket. A long lavender silk tie completed his look. The combination set off his red hair and blue eyes to their best advantage.
"You look s
o handsome, Harold," Angela remarked back at the inn when she first caught sight of Duncan's brother.
She was a vision in a backless, sleeveless cocktail dress. Sheer black fabric, gathered into folds, created frothy rose-like details at the high neckline and hem. A matching satin ribbon cinched the garment at Angela's tiny waist, but allowed the textile to flounce around her knees with each step.
Donald Merriwether sported his Menzies kilt, and Skye wore her clan tartan strapless dress which she'd donned for last year's ceilidh. Duncan's mother went with the always chic little black dress.
Mondo stood out among their group dressed in a tan three piece ill-fitting suit. The oversized chef needed a tailor. Unaware of anything besides his own genius, he believed himself the best dressed man in the room.
Walter greeted the party, making no excuses for his missing aunt. Tall and thin with an insipid pallor, the young man exuded cockiness and privilege. Duncan found his blasé attitude offensive. Wally wore his dark brunette hair parted on the left, with his bangs sweeping over his forehead. He had large brown eyes, which he used to his advantage with the ladies. A long straight nose almost ran into his thin lips. His chin contained a well-defined cleft that Duncan longed to cuff.
Susanne's nephew sized up the men of their party and promptly ignored them, focusing on Skye and Angela. Mondo raised his nose in the air and sniffed, trying to determine the evening's meal. He whispered in Duncan's ear that the manor's cook was inferior, by the smell of the place.
James chatted with Margaret while Harold questioned Donald about the upcoming art contest. Angus smiled at Duncan, enjoying Wally's display. Angus could find humor in just about anything, especially his brother's discomfort.
When a staff member announced dinner, Susanne's nephew didn't wait for his aunt, but ushered the lasses into the estate's formal dining room as the other ignored guests followed. Two waiters presented the first course, a French onion consommé, while Walter blathered on about his mountain climbing experiences in Chile. Surly the girls would see through him now.
To Duncan's amazement, Angela and Skye, seated to each side of the pretender, hung on the whelp's every word. The investigator had glimpsed Wally's hands and they had no calluses. Duncan grew more irritated as Angus appeared more entertained. His brother made a slight tilt with his head in the nephew's direction and lifted his eyebrows, his lips parting in a familiar grin. Get a load of that! was the message he sent.
As the help cleared bowls from the table, Mondo passed judgement on the consommé with a small shake of his head and scowl. Duncan's mum looked to her future partner, trying to ascertain what he thought of the soup. Glancing at Margaret, the chef relayed his poor opinion by turning down the corners of his mouth, his thick lower lip protruding, and knitting his eyebrows together.
Just when the guests began to believe their hostess had forgotten her own dinner party, a harried Susanne burst through the double doors leading to the dining room, dressed in a pink suit that matched the color of her flustered face. She took the chair left empty next to Donald and made her apologies. She appeared agitated and short of breath.
"I think something terrible has happened," she announced, distraught.
Donald placed a hand on the lady's arm, sympathy reflecting on his face.
"What's the matter, Susanne?" the innkeeper asked in a low tone.
Susanne glanced around the room and signaled for Walter to shut the doors that led to an anteroom. There was no need to alarm the servants. As her nephew accomplished this task, their hostess struggled to compose herself.
With the room closed off from the rest of the house, she said, "It seems someone has taken a valuable piece of my jewelry."
Duncan observed the guests' various reactions. Susanne's nephew appeared mildly surprised while his own parents seemed shocked. Harold looked as if he hadn't heard the news, while Angus's expression reflected bemusement and amusement all at once. The girls were both alarmed, but Duncan noted Angela scanned the room with her eyes, like a detective.
"Susanne, I'm special constable in this area. We should call the chief inspector at once, and have the police question everyone who has been in the house, as well as look for signs of a break in," Donald advised.
"Oh, I hate to do that!" she exclaimed, her voice unsteady. "I don't want a scandal. Oh, let me think. What am I to do, Wally?" Susanne asked her nephew.
The sham mountaineer rubbed his chin. Then he glanced around the extravagant dining room, casting his gaze first on the crystal chandeliers, then on the intricate moldings, next on the sterling samovar, before progressing to the superb artwork.
"If someone wanted to rob us, I don't think they'd ignore all of this," he stated, lifting his index finger from the table and twirling it in a small circle, in effect pointing to objects in the room.
"Maybe ye misplaced the piece," Donald suggested.
"Perhaps," their hostess said, rubbing her brow in confusion.
"It also seems to me that we have an entire room full of crime crackers right here. There's no need to involve the police," Walter said, his voice laced with contempt.
Uh oh. Duncan didn't like where this was headed one bit. The counterfeit climber had done some research on his guests.
"Just what do you mean, Wally?" Susanne asked her nephew.
"Well, Duncan here is a world famous mathematician, known for solving crimes."
Walter rolled his head in the investigator's direction. His languid movements annoyed the Scotsman.
"Mr. Merriwether has already stated he's the special constable, and the charming Angela works as an investigator for a major insurance company. Oh, and Armondo Berluca thinks he can rate our chef based on how the manor smells," he said with mock astonishment.
"That's enough, Wally!" Susanne snapped.
Walter Wallace shrugged in a way that reflected his nonchalant manner towards everything.
"Is there anything you can do, Donald, without calling in the police?" she pleaded with the innkeeper.
He drew in a deep breath as Skye gave her father a warning shake of her head. Duncan caught a glimpse of Angus admiring the innkeeper's daughter, his eyes roaming over the lass. His grin seemed out of place given the circumstances, but her amber eyes sparkled like jewels in this lighting while her strapless dress flattered her milky complexion and figure.
"Describe the item, Susanne," Donald commanded.
"It's a sixteenth century pendant, passed down in my late husband's family since the 1920s. It's gold and enamel with many rose cut diamonds. It's about ten by eight centimeters and contains a cross, heart, doves… "
"You have a photo of it," her nephew interrupted, then sighed, as if supremely bored.
"Oh, yes! A journal featured it a few months ago. Let me retrieve the article," she said, rushing from the room.
No one said a word until their hostess returned a few minutes later. She held a thick, glossy magazine in her hand. She placed the publication on the table in front of Donald and opened it to the full page photo.
After taking a good look, Donald shoved the periodical at the investigator. The intricate pendant was like nothing Duncan had ever seen. He made out the cross with a heart at its base. Two enameled hands held the filigree symbol of love, while a dove sat on each arm of the Christian symbol. Diamond encrusted wings fanned from the center of the design. A golden drop hung from each wing and the bottom of the pendant. He looked closer at the photo, which revealed a tiny enameled macabre skull just below the heart. The large, three dimensional piece would not be easy to smuggle from the house.
A quick review of the accompanying article revealed that the treasure was originally a wedding gift from a minor 16th century royal to his bride. Hence the symbolism in the design: heart, cross, doves, and skull, representing man's mortality.
"I could ask the staff to volunteer to be searched before they leave. Has anyone else been here today?" Donald asked.
"No," she responded.
"All right. Call the s
taff into the entry hall, Susanne. Then return here and I'll see what I can do. Skye, will ye come with me?" the innkeeper asked.
Skye nodded and followed Susanne and her father from the room. It would be a nasty business, implying one of the staff was a thief. Angela eyed Wally, allowing her gaze to rake over his upper body and hands, which he rested on the table. Duncan felt jealousy burn within as the spurious shyster smiled at his girlfriend. That phony assumed the lass found him attractive.
"Un momento, Duncan. Does Mondo need to stay? Mondo is hungry. That canned broth was not enough to satisfy a hobo's palette!" the chef spat in Walter's direction, a look of challenge on his face.
"Dad, why don't you drive Mondo, Harold, Angela and Mum back to the inn? There's no reason for you to all stay."
He'd forgotten how annoying the chef's habit of referring to himself as a third party was, and wanted to avoid a fist fight between the chef and the nephew. Duncan had heard rumors in Spain that Armondo once worked as a Mexican wrestler, although he more resembled a disheveled, sweaty young Pavarotti. The investigator didn't want Donald embarrassed by his family's guest.
"I'd like to stay," Angela interjected in a sharp tone.
Surprised and a bit hurt, he turned to the lass, his eyes questioning. Angela gave the Scotsman a cold stare while Angus tried to size up this latest development. Duncan motioned for Angus to join him in a corner.
"I want you to stay to help me should things get ugly, but the others can leave," he whispered to Angus.
"I wouldn’t push it with Angela. She's made her mind up to stay. See the look on her face?" Angus replied with a lifted eyebrow and tilt of his head.
The brothers returned to the table, while Margaret and James joined Mondo, who was already poised to leave.
"I need you to drive us back to Taye, Lad," James directed at his youngest son present. Then he added in a soft tone, "Be careful," to Angus and Duncan.
"Oh, quite right!" Harold said.
Duncan noted that his brother had picked up Reggie Norcroft's favorite phrase. At least they'd be out of this mess and back at the Blue Bell soon. He caught a glimpse of Angela chatting quietly with Mr. Soft Hands.
Mystery: The Christmas Contest: A Duncan Dewar Romantic Comedy of Mystery & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 5) Page 3
