I made my way back down to the ground floor and worked my way through each of the rooms. No sign of Sheila, no sign of anyone. Tears of frustration leapt to my eyes. I was so sure we had the answer. So sure we’d find her here and alive. If not here, I hated to finish the thought. If not here, then likely nowhere.
I completed one last desperate search around the loading dock. Nothing but old shipping containers. I opened each of the containers in turn, steeling myself for the worst, but they were all empty. In the end I dragged several boxes over to a window on the back wall and used them to boost myself up. I pried the window open, then hauled myself up and over the ledge, dropping down into another alley.
I approached the Starbucks cautiously, but there was no sign of my friend. He was probably staking out my car, waiting for me to return. It’s what I would do.
Grant was sitting at our table by the window. “Thought you were waiting here!” he snapped.
“You knew better,” I replied.
“Did you lose your minder?”
“Of course, a lot of muscle there but not much brain. I was convinced I’d find Sheila in that abandoned building.” I fumed. “It made perfect sense, but nothing. Not even a sign anyone had been there at all.”
“How did you manage to get back out?”
“Window round the back.”
“You’re damn lucky it wasn’t alarmed,” Grant growled.
I hadn’t actually thought about that. “It’s a deserted building,” I bluffed. “Why would it be alarmed?”
“To keep intruders out,” Grant said pointedly.
I reached up and tried to rub some of the tension out of the back of my neck. “I’m running out of ideas.” Our brilliant plan had come to nothing, and all I could do now was wait to find out where to deliver the ransom and hope it would lead us somewhere.
Grant leaned in. “That’s why you involved the police. They’re on this. You don’t have to take responsibility for this personally.”
“But I do.”
Grant smiled down at me. “I know. That’s what makes you special.”
“Come on,” I said. “You and Cam need to get back to Nora, and I need to check on Trish.”
Grant helped me on with my jacket. “Not till I walk you back to your car.”
“Afraid I’ll do something else stupid?”
“Always, but mostly I’m worried about the thug who’s tailing you.”
We made our way back to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society and sure enough, a familiar figure was sitting in a black sedan two spaces behind Hope. I pretended not to see him. As we reached the car, Grant opened the door, then grabbed me by the waist and pulled me in close. He bent his head and left a long, lingering kiss on my lips that played with my mind and my senses.
“For the benefit of your friend,” he murmured.
I tried and failed to look unfazed. “Can I drop you somewhere?”
“Nae lass, I’m meeting Cam in the Society bar.”
Grant raised a hand as I pulled away from the curb. I headed for the shelter in a daze, momentarily forgetting that I was not alone.
* * *
—
I found Trish in the kitchen at the Rest, doling out her famous cups of tea. Karen was getting ready to leave for work. She introduced me to Trish with a vague gesture in the direction of the sink.
“Amanda’s over at the shop if you’re looking for her,” Cheryl added.
“Right, thanks.” I couldn’t think how else to rationalize my presence there.
“Sit down and have a cuppa tea first,” Trish offered.
She then proceeded to regale me with her made-up backstory, going on and on about her life with boyfriend Bruce and her narrow escape from almost certain death. She’d obviously worked on the tale for some time and she was getting all the mileage she could out of it. I made suitably sympathetic noises as the narrative rolled along, and eventually Karen and Cheryl escaped the kitchen looking exhausted from the speed of the telling.
“Good lord, I thought they’d never clear out,” Trish whispered. She joined me at the table and leaned her head in close to mine. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the mail slot. So far nothin’. Amanda’s been checking in every fifteen minutes. By the way, she said to tell you that Lila Ross called looking for a childminder for a couple of hours tonight. It’s the housekeeper’s night off. I volunteered to go. Figure I can do some snooping around.”
I looked at Trish in amazement. “She what? Why on earth would Lila Ross call here looking for a sitter? Her husband’s in custody for allegedly assaulting and drugging one of the shelter girls.”
“Amanda said she insists her husband’s done nowt wrong. She’s playing the poor wee sick girl card. Claiming it was a suicide, and going on about all she and her husband have done to be helpful to the ‘unfortunate girls’ at the shelter. She’s offered twenty quid an hour to watch the bairns. They’ve never paid more than ten an hour before, from what the girls told me. Can you believe?”
“Seems crazy to me, but Lila Ross’s been trying to rewrite the narrative ever since the night Jenny died. She’ll do anything to preserve the family reputation. I expect this scene is being orchestrated by Urquhart. He’s probably trying to paint the Rosses as caring philanthropists. Could be planning ahead to show a jury that Mrs. Ross is still using the girls as sitters to help establish that they have nothing to hide. What time are you supposed to be there?”
“Seven thirty.”
“I want you to be especially careful. Don’t eat or drink anything you’re given. I hate to send you over there, but this is an opportunity that’s hard to turn down. See if you can find anything that suggests that Ross might’ve been preparing to hide someone at the house. A room with special locks, or I don’t know, just anything that strikes you as odd, but whatever you do, don’t get caught snooping around, ’cause I won’t be around to protect you.”
“No worries, boss. I got this.”
I wished I was as confident as Trish. “Tell the other girls where you’re going tonight and see what they have to say about Ross.”
“Right.” Trish was positively glowing with enthusiasm.
“And try not to look so happy. You’ll make people suspicious.”
As Trish was stacking our dishes into the washer, I heard noises in the basement and went below to find Greer coming down the cellar stairs with a box of fresh carrots. I reached up and took it from her, adding it to the pile along the wall. I helped her bring down six more wooden boxes to stack in the corner.
“Thanks,” Greer said, pulling off her work gloves and wiping the sweat from her forehead with her sweatshirt sleeve.
“What happened to all the plastic containers?” I asked, looking around the low-roofed space.
“Colin delivered most of the stock to clients. Next week’s Restaurant Week and everyone’s gearing up for full houses.” Greer stuffed her gloves in her back pocket. “Any news on Sheila?”
I shook my head sadly. “Unfortunately, no.”
“I’m really sorry. I liked her. She knew her veg.” Greer stood there shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Look, I know we hardly know one another, and this might be a real cheek given your background and all, but I was wondering. Would you consider coming out to the farm to take some pictures for me? I’m putting together some promotional materials for the herb side of the business. My pitch focuses on the quality and the freshness of the product. Some really killer pictures would go a long way toward helping with sales.”
The change of subject startled me somewhat, but photography was my passion. I was always happy to take pictures.
“I’d be happy to pay you, of course,” Greer rushed on. “I mean we can afford to pay your going rates. I just wasn’t sure if photographing plants would be beneath you after all the important work you’ve done.”
>
“No, not at all,” I said. “I’d be happy to take some photos, but we may have to wait a bit. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” Murder, kidnapping, and real estate fraud, to name just three.
“Oh sure, sure. Whenever you have time would be great,” Greer said, happily heading back up the stairs.
So much for concern about Sheila. As I stood there alone in the now nearly empty basement, my phone buzzed. It was Amanda.
“We’ve finally heard from the kidnapper,” she said breathlessly. “I found the envelope stuck on top of the mail pile at Woolies. The mailman just left it on the front counter as usual. It’s been so busy in here I didn’t even see him come in.”
“What does it say?”
“Twenty thousand pounds in a manila envelope. To be left in the milk box on the front stoop of the Ramen Shoppe on Nicolson Street at ten forty-five—tonight.”
Chapter 15
“They aren’t giving us much time, are they?”
“Can you get the money by then?”
“That’s not a problem. Odd choice of venue,” I mused, “but it should be pretty quiet at that time of night. Easy enough to keep an eye on the drop from a distance and see who picks it up.”
“I can deliver it if you’d like,” Amanda said. “I don’t want to put you at any more risk. You’re already fronting the money.”
“No,” I insisted. “I’ll go. You should stay as far away from this as possible. I’m on my way to the shop now. I want to see the note and the envelope it came in.”
My friend with the glasses tailed me to the store. His presence wasn’t so bad in the daylight, but tonight would be a different matter.
The shop was busy when I arrived with a knitting class starting in the lower-level classroom and customers milling around everywhere. Amanda was standing behind the front counter talking to Colin. He had an arm around her shoulder and his head was bent to hers.
They looked up as the bell jangled, announcing my entrance. Amanda handed me the envelope and leaned on Colin’s shoulder. “Colin was here delivering some fleeces from his neighbor’s farm when the note arrived,” Amanda said. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at hiding my emotions.”
“What a horrible situation,” Colin said. “Are you sure you can manage the ransom alone? Greer and I can donate some money, too, if that helps. Just let us know what you need.”
I wasn’t thrilled to have Colin and Greer in on the secret, but I might be able to use Colin’s influence on Amanda to get her to agree to bringing the police in. “The money I can manage,” I said. “What we really need is some help from the police.”
“That seems reasonable,” Colin began,
Amanda stiffened. “No. I’ve told you, no cops.”
“But this is more than you can handle. You need to have experts involved. No offense,” Colin said, turning to me.
“None taken,” I replied. “You’re exactly right.”
“No,” Amanda said so loudly that several patrons turned and looked our way.
“Alright, alright,” Colin went on soothingly. “Amanda has issues with the police,” he explained. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe we pay up and then see what happens. If they release Sheila, well and good. If they don’t, then absolutely the police have to be brought in immediately.” Colin gave Amanda’s shoulders a squeeze. “Okay?”
Amanda’s head drooped and she nodded silently.
If I’d hoped to get more help from Colin, I was going to be disappointed. His main concern was comforting Amanda and I left him to it. I took the note and the envelope and called Michaelson as soon as I was back in the car. He instructed me to place the note in a ziplock bag, as I’d done before, and bring it to Patrick’s office in the city. A plainclothes officer would be sent to retrieve it.
He confirmed that Elliot was checking into the folks who’d had access to the house at the time Sheila disappeared, but he was keen to stake out the drop zone and hoped to tail the perpetrator back to the place where Sheila was being kept. In the meantime, I was to follow the instructions to the letter and then get out of there. I wondered if I should mention that I was being tailed, but I didn’t want to have to explain what I’d been up to this morning. I’m sure it would qualify as interfering. Besides, so far this guy was not so hot at his job.
As long as I had my shadow, I needed to be mindful of what I did. I parked near Patrick’s office and ran up to deliver the note. He buzzed me in and I found him alone at his desk working on some layouts. He suggested we meet for dinner later. I wouldn’t be hungry, but I agreed, knowing it would help to fill the time before the drop.
I left Patrick hard at it and ran down the block to the Royal Bank of Scotland. I’d filed the necessary paperwork and requested the cash yesterday. I didn’t fancy carrying the money around any longer than necessary, but it was nearly half-day closing time so I couldn’t wait any longer. I left the building with twenty thousand pounds in a manila envelope, feeling as if I had a target on my back.
By eight thirty I was waiting for Patrick outside of La Mer. His choice of restaurant, and I suspected home to his new chef friend. Patrick sauntered up ten minutes later in black slacks, a dark gray shirt, and a black leather jacket.
“You didn’t tell me it was a biker joint,” I said.
“Very funny. I just want to keep a low profile for tonight.”
“At the restaurant?”
“No, for your little rendezvous.”
“Who said you’re going?”
“No one, but I’m not letting you go alone. Even if I hang back in the shadows and just watch, I’m going.”
“I have protection,” I whispered. “Besides, it’s not me I’m worried about if they get what they want, it’s Sheila. We’re not there to grab the courier. We want to know where he goes.”
“Fair enough, but I’m still not letting you go alone.” Patrick led me through the front door and we were quickly seated in a prime booth near the kitchen. It pays to have friends in high places. Patrick told the waiter to let the chef choose our menu, which suited me. I had little appetite and even less interest in fancy food at the moment. I let my eyes wander around the room. The tables were full and there were more patrons waiting in the bar area. Of course it was a Saturday night, but it was still an impressive crowd for a relative newcomer to the scene.
The first course arrived, plump fresh sea scallops with a selection of three sauces. Each intricate and textured. If for some crazy reason things went south tonight and this turned out to be my last meal, at least it was an excellent one.
I’d declined a glass of wine to begin with, but changed my mind when the main dish of sea bass arrived with a side of ginger-and-scallion fried rice. It was perfectly cooked and light enough to sit well on my already nervous stomach.
“Where exactly is the drop-off?” Patrick asked.
“In Nicolson Street.”
“Over by the university? Odd place to choose, but maybe it’s familiar turf to whoever is doing the pickup.”
“I wondered that, but should be pretty quiet at that time of night. Most of the students will be off at parties and clubs by that hour. The tricky bit is that Urquhart is having me followed.”
Patrick looked up from his scallops, startled. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” My eyes strayed around the room. “He’s leaning on the bar, back to us, watching in the mirror. Still has his coat on.” Further along the bar I was surprised to see Colin Templeton, leaning across the counter, drink in hand, chatting with the bartender. Not surprising, I realized, given his line of business. I pointed him out to Patrick.
“Nice-looking bloke.” Patrick looked faintly miffed. “I’ve seen him in here before talking to Gordon.”
“He’s on the board of the Shepherd’s Rest with me. He and his sister run an organic farm that sells to most of the high-e
nd restaurants in town. I wouldn’t stress about it.”
“I’m not stressing.” The rest of Patrick’s excuses were cut off by the arrival of the chef himself. He’d removed his toque and slid into the booth next to Patrick.
“Gordon Wright,” he said extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Abi. Patrick’s told me all about you.”
“Hopefully not all,” I murmured.
“Only the good things.” Gordon raised a hand and three glasses of whisky appeared on the table. It was a neat trick. “We’re proud to serve your Abbey Glen in the bar, and I’m working on a special dessert for tonight that makes use of your award-winning sherry cask reserve.”
Oh good lord, the last thing I needed was a rich dessert, but I could see no way to refuse. I smiled and continued to discuss Abbey Glen’s recent success at the Golden Quaich Awards. For Patrick’s sake, and mine, I decided to raise the subject of produce.
“The meal tonight was fabulous. Do you use produce from Templeton Farms?”
Gordon looked slightly puzzled. “We do. What makes you ask?”
“Well, Colin Templeton’s at the bar. I know him from the board of a charity we both serve on. I was out at the farm recently touring his sister Greer’s herb gardens. They’re amazing.”
“The best in the area,” Gordon agreed. “Colin and I have been mates since school. I was a bit skeptical at first when he talked about farming, but I have to say he’s done a bang-up job. The product is first-class. I’d buy it even if he wasn’t a friend.”
“He certainly seems to take his business seriously. Most farmers wouldn’t be out chatting up clients on a Saturday night,” Patrick said.
Gordon chuckled. “Colin sells the food, he doesn’t cook it. He arranged a meeting with me for later tonight after the punters clear out because he knows I’ll feed him well.”
“Doesn’t seem like the type who’d go in for farming,” I noted. He was now in the process of chatting up a buxom brunette sitting next to him at the bar. The conversation didn’t look like business. I hoped Amanda wasn’t getting too attached to him. I’d noticed that look of challenge and invitation in his glance when we first met. The girl seemed enraptured and out of the corner of my eye I saw that Patrick had relaxed against the back of the booth, looking pleased with the latest development.
Died in the Wool Page 19
