Diana saw that the old quilter had things under control, so she went to Marta and Tilly. “We’re going to start on the project today, instead of going on our field trip to Whussendale. Marta, are you up for being on camera?”
Marta glared at her. “You have to be kidding!” she snapped, and motioned to herself “I look hideous. That Brodie person rushed me out of Partridge House before I could get on a decent pair of slacks or make up my face.”
Diana understood how important it was for Marta to keep up appearances.
Marta put a fist on her hip. “Tilly and I will go back to Partridge House so I can shower and get ready. Come on, Tilly.” She started to walk away.
But Diana rushed in front of her, raising a hand. “We can’t go back until Rory says so.”
Marta raised her eyebrows. “Rory, is it?”
“Detective Chief Inspector Crannach,” Diana clarified. “He wants us to wait a while.”
“Well, I’m not going to do any promotional work until I can take a shower and put on foundation and eye liner. I hope they catch whoever did this to me and throw the book at him.” Marta was so worked up, she didn’t even seem aware of the pun. She did look pretty awful. At least the dye on her face had faded, so it just looked like a sunburn on one side now. Make-up would tone it down.
She glanced over at her temporary bodyguards, Hamilton and Gregor. “It’s bad enough that these two have to see me this way—not at my best.” Judging by her cougar ogle the poor Duffy brothers might have to use their youth to fight off her advances.
Diana glanced around and found Rory. “Let me ask DCI Crannach when you can head back to Partridge House.”
Rory was at the entrance, talking with MacTaggart and McCartney. He must’ve felt her coming, because his eyes shot in her direction as if she’d shouted to him.
“Deydie wants to get started,” Diana said, “but Marta won’t, until she can get changed. When can we get her stuff and get her moved to Thistle Glen Lodge, as Cait suggested?”
“Now,” Rory said. “The body’s been cleared from the premises. Just stay away from the crime scene.” He gestured to his team. “MacTaggart and McCartney will take over here at Quilting Central until I can get back.” He nodded toward the Duffy brothers. “Have her new bodyguards come along.”
“I’ll see if Rachel wants to go with us now, too.”
Diana found Rachel in the kitchen area. “We’re headed back to Partridge House. Do you want to come?”
But it was Brodie who answered. “I’ll go with ye to get our things.”
Rachel nodded, looking more than a little shell-shocked. But she rallied. “I’ll go along to make sure Thistle Glen Lodge is ready for our visitors.” She squatted down to speak with her daughter. “Let’s ask if you can stay here with Cait and help with baby Hamish while your dad and I see to getting things out of the house.”
Hannah grabbed her Let’s Get Sheepy quilt and ran to where Cait sat with the baby. Rachel didn’t even have to go over as Cait waved back her consent.
Brodie caressed his wife’s shoulder, his eyes darting to the two fishermen leaning against the far wall. “I’m going to see if either Ross or Ramsay can stay with you at Thistle Glen Lodge while I’m at the house. I don’t want ye to be there alone.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. “Do we know how long before we’ll be able to go home? Has anyone said?”
Brodie wrapped a protective arm around his wife. “I’ll find out from the DCI.” He had a determined look on his face, as if he wouldn’t let a murder in his home ruin his perfect life. Brodie gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then went to the fishermen by the wall.
Moments later, he came back with Ross. Diana headed to Deydie to break the news that the retreat would be delayed a bit longer.
Deydie listened, glowered, but then glanced over at Marta. “She looks like hell.” She seemed to have a rare moment of compassion for the woman who’d killed off her favorite fictional quilters. “Who can blame her, though, after what she’s been through in the last few days.” Deydie gave Diana a dismissive wave. “Go on with ye. Bethia and I will stay with the retreat goers. Also, it’ll give me a chance to show them the puffin I’m going to put in the center of my quilt. Just hurry back so Marta can get them going on the piecin’ before the kirk bell rings.”
Next Diana corralled Marta, Tilly, and the Duffy brothers and headed for the door. When they got outside, Tilly turned to her sister.
“Did you at least read through the Rook quilt directions?”
Marta rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like I don’t know what I’m doing, Tilly.”
Diana got that sinking feeling again. “Marta, did you design the pattern for book ten?” Or did Tilly?
Marta turned around and gave Diana a look of disdain. “When would I have time to do that? I never design the quilts. I’ve been writing a book while running the Marta Dixon empire for Three Seals.”
Tilly groaned a little, as if being crushed under the weight of Marta’s ego…while doing most of the heavy lifting for the Marta Dixon empire.
“Well, this is a mess,” Diana said aloud. This new revelation—that Tilly designed the quilts—wasn’t the bombshell that Tilly writing the books was, but it was another secret that had been kept from the readers. Just another mess for Diana to fix.
Rory, who’d been leading the procession, held back until Diana caught up to him. He took her arm gently and stopped her, while giving her plenty of eye contact. Serious eyes. But something seemed to smolder in there, too, just below the surface. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
Diana sighed, feeling defeated. “I don’t think it’s going to impact your investigation. It’s me who’s been thrown an additional curveball.” She exhaled another breath, glad she could vent a little. “Marta is going to be the death of me. We need to get footage of Marta leading a quilting lesson, but I don’t even know if she can quilt. I just found out that Marta didn’t design the Rook quilt, Tilly did.” But an old memory popped into Diana’s head. “Maybe everything’s going to be okay. Last year, I saw a video of Marta teaching another of the Quilt to Death quilts and she did a really nice job of it.” Diana breathed a little easier.
Rory went with Rachel up to the door of Thistle Glen Lodge first and he blanched when Rachel didn’t produce a key but turned the doorknob and opened the door.
“It wasn’t locked,” Rory said flatly.
“No,” Rachel said. “We normally leave the dorms open in case someone needs a place to stay in a pinch.”
Ross added the next part. “Like if ye stay too late at the pub and yere wife won’t let ye back into the cottage while ye’re stinking drunk.”
“I can’t believe it,” Rory said.
Rachel shrugged. “Most of the common buildings are unlocked here in Gandiegow. The General Store, the church, and of course, Quilting Central. We even leave Partridge House open in case a traveler comes into town late.”
Rory shook his head, as if saltwater had lodged in his ears. He turned around on the porch and spoke to the whole group, making eye contact with each one of them. “Things are going to change. We’re going to lock down the village tight until the killer is caught.”
Everyone murmured their agreement.
Rory went inside by himself to make sure no one was lurking. He came out a few minutes later. “It’s clear.”
Brodie waved to his wife. “I’ll only be a couple of minutes while I get you and Hannah a few items. Then I’ll come to Thistle Glen Lodge to get you. Grandda will be happy to have us come stay.”
Diana could tell Brodie hated leaving his wife for even a moment.
Brodie led them around to the back of Partridge House, through the kitchen, instead of entering through the front. Moments later, Diana figured out what a smart move it had been—as their procession passed through, they only got a glimpse of the living room. Diana saw Jacques’s body was indeed gone, but it was definitely a crime scene. Yellow tape corded off the area wi
th detectives and workers still milling about, gathering evidence and taking pictures.
Diana followed Brodie up the stairs so she could help Marta bring down her numerous suitcases. When Diana stepped into the room, Marta was telling the Duffy brothers, “Those are my bags there. After I get the last two suitcases packed, you can come back and get them, too.”
Diana stepped forward. “Hamilton and Gregor, don’t worry about coming back. I can bring the last two.”
“Ham,” the tall red-haired one said. “Everyone calls me Ham.”
“And ye can call me Greg,” the black-haired one said. “It’s no trouble to come back and get the others.”
Tilly came into the hallway from her bedroom, dragging an ancient wheel-less suitcase and started for the stairs.
“Here, Ms. Dixon,” Ham said, giving her a smile as if she were his favorite aunt. “Let me get that for ye.”
Tilly’s utter surprise was nearly comical. “Thank you,” she whispered shyly.
If Diana wasn’t mistaken, Ham had just made a friend for life.
10
Diana opened the front door to Thistle Glen Lodge and stepped inside. As she explored the cottage, she found that this quilting dorm had a completely different feel to it than Duncan’s Den.
A huge fireplace presided over the living room, big enough to roast a medium-sized pig. The downstairs bedrooms were nestled off the hallways on the other side of the living room, along with two restrooms. Diana headed upstairs to see two more modest bedrooms and another restroom. The upstairs view of the ocean was captivating and she stood there for some time, soaking in the peacefulness of the waves crashing against the walkway embankment. Duncan’s Den had a comparable view, but with all its wood paneling it felt more like a hunter’s cottage. She loved it— all warm plaids and coordinating tartan quilts. Something about it reminded her of her dad.
Ah, she remembered. Her father’s recliner was dark blue and red plaid like the one at Duncan's Den. When Dad got off duty, he would come home and put his feet up with the TV remote in his hand. Mom would bring him a soft drink or a beer, and Diana and her sister would play at his feet until he was ready to have them crawl up on his recliner with him. Police officers needed a certain amount of downtime to adjust from work mode to family life.
Thinking about her father always made her feel sad…and empty. And angry. She trudged downstairs glumly, only to bump into Rory.
Rory stopped and stared at Diana. Possibly because she was staring at him and the backpack slung over his shoulder.
Her curiosity got the best of her. “Are you staying here?”
“Aye,” he said in his deep burr. “To keep an eye on Marta.”
“For how long?” She’d been brave for asking and possibly stupid, too.
“Depends.” He didn’t wait to see if she had more questions. Instead, he walked past her and disappeared up the stairs.
She didn’t like how being around him made her jumpy, nervous, and—she hated to admit it—excited. All things she shouldn’t feel around someone like him—someone who carried a badge.
A few minutes later, Ham appeared with Tilly and Marta, who was looking much better. “They’re all moved in, Ms. McKellen. Where to next?”
“Back to Quilting Central.” Diana checked her watch. “There’s some time before church starts. Can you take them? I need to run over to Duncan’s Den to get Parker.”
“We’ll walk ye there,” Greg said, as he joined them in the living room.
“Aye,” Rory said. He was midway down the stairs. “We’ll all stay together.”
But once outside, Tilly turned around. “I forgot my bag.”
Tilly’s bag was like Mary Poppins’, stuffed with anything and everything Marta might need at a moment’s notice.
“Ham, go with her,” Rory said. “I meant it when I said no one is to be alone.”
Ham did as he was told and the rest of them went on.
Next door at Duncan’s Den, Rory went in with Diana. She noticed how he scanned the entry and the living room for danger. Yes, he made her feel safe. But it was the other emotions he elicited that were not so comfortable.
Diana walked back to her bedroom and knocked, not sure whether Ewan McGillivray would be in there or not. “Parker, it’s me.”
The door opened. Parker looked anxious. “I can’t believe Jacques is dead.”
“I know. It’s awful,” Diana said, looking past Parker’s shoulder. “Where’s Ewan? You shouldn’t have been left here alone.”
“Ewan went to the restaurant to pick us up something to eat. He’s going to meet us at Quilting Central.”
“Do you want to wait around a minute,” Diana said. “I want to change into something dressier.” Hoping it would raise her spirits, she pulled out her black mini skirt and some cute boots, quickly putting them on.
Outside, Parker gestured at the group. “I didn’t expect a whole welcoming committee.”
“Protection,” Diana corrected her. “We aren’t supposed to go out by ourselves. Make sure Ewan knows that.”
Parker gave her a sad smile. “He’s leaving in a little bit. He said he has to get back to Here Again Farm and Estates.”
“Cheer up,” Diana said. “We’re headed to Whussendale tomorrow. You’ll see him then.”
“I know. It’s just not the same.” She lowered her voice. “We won’t be alone.”
This is moving too fast, Diana thought. Who gets lovesick over someone she just met? Unwittingly, Diana’s gaze floated over to Rory. No, she wasn’t lovesick like Parker. Intrigued, maybe. A crush, perhaps. But Diana wasn’t going to get involved with him under any circumstances. She would never date a police officer. Never. And certainly not one from another country!
True to Deydie and Bethia’s word, the quilters were nearly finished cutting out the pieces for their quilts.
The church bells rang.
“Okay, everyone, let’s head over to the kirk.” Deydie frowned at Marta, but this time didn’t waste her breath telling her to come.
“We’ll finish the interviews when you return,” Rory said.
Tilly, Marta, and Rory stayed behind as the rest of the building cleared. Diana wished she could stay behind, too, but went to church instead, hoping the service would somehow straighten her out, especially concerning her attraction to a certain police officer.
* * *
During the church service, the Episcopal priest did a good job of reminding them all that death wasn’t the end, that they needed to celebrate Jacques’s life in their hearts, though he hadn’t been in Gandiegow long. Diana wished Rory had been there to hear the comforting words. She wished she was sitting beside him holding his hand, helping him through this difficult time.
After the service was over, Diana walked back to Quilting Central, feeling uplifted after the traumatic morning. The rest of the quilters seemed renewed, as well.
When Diana walked into Quilting Central, Rory nodded at her. It was a polite nod. Nothing untoward. But her insides did a delicious squeeze anyway. She decided it might take a lot of church services to straighten her out and get her back to how things were before she’d met Rory.
Lunch had been laid out and the quilters got in line to make their plates. From the stage, Deydie pronounced, “As soon as yere done eating, and have washed yere hands, then ye need to get back to work. We have a lot of piecing to get through today.”
Diana got in line behind Parker. “After lunch, will you be ready to start taping?”
“You bet, boss.”
When everyone was done, Marta took over the class with confidence, showing off her knowledge and skill. Diana stood back watching, unable to help but ponder Marta. She was a mixed bag of good and. . . not so good. Which was kind of the human condition, if Diana was being honest.
“Tilly,” she said, “Marta’s really good at this!”
“I taught her how to sew when she was little.” Tilly replied. “She took to quilting like she was born to do it.”
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“So why doesn’t she make the quilts for the Quilt to Death series?” Diana asked. “Why have you been the one to do all the designing and sewing?” She knew Marta’s take on it but wanted to hear Tilly’s side, too.
“Marta says it’s my job since I’m the one who comes up with the design while I’m writing the books. Besides, Marta only sews when inspiration strikes. She wouldn’t do well with a deadline.” But then Tilly’s face screwed up. Was she remembering Marta had met a deadline, for the book that had killed off the Buttermilk Guild?
Diana put on a fake smile to push away the thought. “Well, I’m pleased we’re getting some great footage. I’ll have Three Seals send out an email blast with the video embedded. The team will also post it everywhere online. That should help.”
But Tilly’s expression said she didn’t believe it would.
Maybe it wouldn’t help, but Diana had to try. She leaned over and whispered to Tilly. “I need to confirm some things for my promo plan for Three Seals. I need to know that you’ll be able to do the front work—book signings, quilt guild visits, you know, all the public appearances?”
Tilly blanched. “I—I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long.” Diana hated to be pushy, but there was no reason to go to bat for the Buttermilk Guild if Tilly wouldn’t be able to take over for Marta.
“I want to do it,” Tilly whispered, her lips barely moving. “The Buttermilk Guild needs to carry on. But I just don’t know if I can be in front of people like Marta.”
They both directed their eyes to Marta, who was animatedly instructing the quilters from up on the stage.
Tilly looked conflicted. “She’s going to be so mad,” she murmured.
“I know,” Diana said. She didn’t have to ask what Tilly was referring to. Marta liked having Tilly in the background, and certainly didn’t want to compete with her sister as an author. Tilly will probably make me be the one to break it to Marta. “Just keep writing.”
Kilt in Scotland Page 13
