Kilt in Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  Tilly had a red ring around her neck from the strangling scarf, and Diana asked, “Coira, do you have any arnica to help with the bruising?”

  “Aye,” said Coira. “Tavon, get the first aid kit off the wall.”

  When he’d done as she bid, Bethia took the arnica and gently rubbed it onto Tilly’s bruise.

  “Oh, Tilly, I’ll make sure you get a new scarf,” Marta said. “I’m so sorry this happened.” She seemed shaken up.

  Coira clapped. “Let’s head to the weaving building. After that, we’ll watch our kiltmaker and his apprentice, Laird Hugh’s wife, demonstrate how to make a kilt. Then I promise, we’ll get ye lunch.”

  Feeling pretty shaky herself, Diana could have used some of Rory’s reassuring warmth, but he rightly stayed close to Marta and Tilly all through the weaving mill and the kiltmaker’s demonstration. After both groups were done, they piled back onto the bus and drove a winding mile to Kilheath Castle, where Laird Hugh and Sophie McGillivray lived.

  They had a delightful lunch of fish and chips—fresh fish from the loch and hand-cut potatoes that had been fried to perfection by Mrs. McNabb. Diana had never tasted better. While they ate their dessert of cranachan—a wonderful combination of cream, raspberries, oats, and whisky—Hugh stood at the head of the table and entertained them with tales from the wool mill. Next, Coira told them stories about the quilt retreats they’d had since Kilts & Quilts had expanded into Whussendale. Diana recorded it all, looking up from the camera every so often to search for Parker, whose job she was doing.

  “All right, ladies!” Coira got everyone’s attention. “Let’s make our way into the ballroom, where we’ll be working on the medallion for the quilt—the rook himself.”

  Deydie held up a stack of papers, as she walked to the front of the room.

  “I know some of ye have considered swapping out yere rook for a puffin,” Deydie said. “I’ve made copies of the puffin template for those who are interested.”

  This would give Deydie her chance to be on the telly as she was promised.

  “Ye don’t mind, do ye?” Bethia asked Marta.

  Diana thought Bethia was so sweet that no one could deny her anything. But then again, Rory had kept her from leaving Partridge House to warn Deydie that she’d need an alibi.

  Thinking of alibis…Diana wondered where Deydie had been when Tilly was pushed into the machinery. She certainly had a motive to punish Marta for killing off the Buttermilk Guild. On the other hand, she’d been quick to jump in and point out the similarity to book six of the Quilt to Death series—would she do that if she was guilty?

  “Where’s yere sidekick?”

  Rory’s voice at Diana’s shoulder almost made her drop the expensive camera. “You should wear a bell around your neck. You nearly gave me heart failure.” How foolish was she? She’d been keeping tabs on Rory all day, and the one moment she let him out of her sight, there he was, sneaking up on her. “Where did you come from anyway?”

  He pointed to the corner. “Over there.”

  “Do you think Tilly’s accident was really an accident?” Diana asked.

  “I do not.”

  “Did you see who pushed her?”

  Rory shook his head. “I had my eye on Marta.” He glanced around. “So where’s Parker? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  A flare of jealousy went up in Diana. “She’s crazy about Ewan, you know.”

  Rory gave a look like Diana’s gun had misfired. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

  She felt stupid for being jealous. She didn’t want Rory, right? So why should she care if he was interested in Parker? “She asked me to film for her while she stayed back with Ewan.”

  Rory frowned like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “I haven’t seen Ewan lately either. Have ye?”

  “No. Not since the shearing shed. I assumed he had to get back to his own estate.”

  “I better start asking around about him, too.”

  “Parker and Ewan just wanted some alone time,” Diana said. “They probably found a secluded spot to slip off to.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll text her and tell her to check in.” She typed out a short note and hit Send. “You worry too much.”

  “It comes with the job.”

  How well Diana knew it. Her father’s habits had worn off on her. But surely Parker was fine, right?

  Rory was staring at her. “Are ye okay?”

  She frowned at him, remembering how much she liked holding his hand. It wasn’t just exciting and thrilling; it was calming and comforting, too. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. . .

  “Diana?”

  “Oh! Yes. Sure. Fine.”

  “We need to talk,” he said, in no way seductively.

  Even though he was using his Do you have an alibi voice, she knew he wanted to talk about what-was-or-wasn’t going on between them.

  “I’m working right now.” She was glad she could use her job as a shield.

  It did the trick. He stiffened. “Aye. Me, too.” He walked away.

  Immediately she wanted to call him back.

  “Wait,” she said. “Let me see if Parker has responded.”

  Rory sauntered back over, his professionalism surrounding him like a protective shell. They were so much alike!

  He stopped inches away, so close she could soak up his goodness. But then he lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “Oh.” Diana pulled out her phone, pretty sure she hadn’t gotten a message as her phone hadn’t vibrated, but that didn’t mean anything. Since she’d met the Detective Chief Inspector, she’d been distracted. Heck, a bull horn could sound right in her ear—and she wouldn’t budge from gazing into his eyes.

  She looked at her blank cell screen. “Nothing yet.” Parker and Ewan were probably in the throes of passion. “Ewan probably took Parker to see his estate. I understand from Deydie that it butts up against this one.”

  “I’ll go ask Deydie if she has Ewan’s number.”

  Diana grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. She’d caused the furrow between his brow and she wanted nothing more than to reach up and smooth it away.

  He looked down at her hand. She did, too, not having any good reason to detain him longer.

  “Tonight,” she finally said.

  “Tonight, what?” Rory asked.

  “We can talk tonight. After we get back to Gandiegow. After everyone has gone to bed.” But she shouldn’t have used that word—bed. Rory might get the wrong idea once again. Even she might be getting the wrong idea. She scrambled for a location. “Let’s meet at the pub.” Anything would be better than the back porch, under their quilt.

  He laid his hand over hers. “It’s a date.”

  She started to say I don’t date cops! But Rory had walked away. Diana was left with her mouth hanging open and her hand feeling warm and tingly where he’d touched her.

  She looked at the phone in her other hand, wondering why it was out of her purse. Oh, yeah, Parker. Why hadn’t she texted back? Worry crept over Diana. To keep it from taking her to a dark place, she had to act, to do something. Even though she’d already texted, she called Parker’s cell phone. She’ll just have to forgive me for interrupting them. For surely, the two lovers had sequestered themselves someplace private.

  The call went straight to voicemail. The rational side of Diana’s brain said Parker had turned off her phone, or maybe she’d forgotten to charge it. But the other side—the side that knew evil did exist—had Diana chewing her lip. A chill passed through her.

  15

  Rory made his way to the front of the ballroom where Deydie was holding court with Bethia. “Did Parker or Ewan say anything to either of you about leaving?”

  The two older women looked around, as if the two missing people might be mingling with the quilters.

  “Haven’t seen them,” Deydie said. “We’ve had our hands full with this lot.”

  Rory pulled out his phone. “Do ye have Ewan’s mobile number
?”

  Deydie scoffed. “What do I look like? A telephone directory?”

  Bethia touch Rory’s arm. “Ask Sophie. She’ll have it.”

  Rory smiled at Bethia, appreciating her kind nature. “Thanks.” He walked back to the food table, where Sophie and the other women of Whussendale were laying out cookies and carafes of tea and coffee. When asked, she immediately gave Rory the number and then went back to work.

  Rory dialed Ewan but didn’t get him. He couldn’t leave a message, either, as Ewan’s voicemailbox was full.

  Using his browser, Rory searched for Here Again Farm and Estates. He spoke with the housekeeper first, then the estate manager. Neither knew where the young Laird was.

  Rory glanced over at Diana, something he found himself doing a lot since meeting her. She was gazing at her phone apprehensively. He strode over to her. “Well? Has Parker gotten back to ye?”

  Diana looked up at him with worry in her eyes, the opposite of what he’d seen earlier. “Nothing. When I called, it went directly to voicemail.” Diana sagged a bit. “She’s young and stupid in love. But I’m worried it’s more than that.”

  “Why?” He was concerned, too, but he wanted to hear her theory.

  She sighed. “It’s about the fifth book in the Quilt to Death series, where several couples get murdered,” she said.

  “I know you sent me the list, but refresh my memory,” he said.

  “The first couple is lured to a cabin in the woods and murdered with a pitchfork.”

  Rory looked at her dubiously.

  Diana bit her top lip. “They were caught unaware, because they were…you know. . .”

  He helped her out. “Otherwise occupied?”

  “Yes.”

  Rory looked worriedly out the window at the forest surrounding Kilheath Castle. “Tell me what else ye know about this book.”

  “A second couple is killed at the airport,” she said.

  “What quilt is featured in this book?” he asked.

  “The Lover’s Knot quilt.” She looked embarrassed to say lover. Maybe because he’d kissed her, and she’d given him one helluva kiss back.

  “I’m glad you made the list,” he said.

  “Amateur sleuth just trying to make sense of it all.”

  Like father, like daughter? But Rory didn’t say it. He didn’t want to do anything that would upset her further.

  He nodded instead. “What does the Lover’s Knot quilt look like?”

  Diana pulled out her mobile, scrolled through her pictures, then handed her phone to him.

  He examined the quilt, which was set on the diagonal. “Have ye seen anyone with this quilt? Any of the quilters here?”

  Diana gestured to a woman standing over the table, examining her quilt blocks. “Lorna. Back in Gandiegow. She brought it for show-and-tell. The last I saw of the quilt, it was lying on her bed at Duncan's Den.”

  Rory eyed the woman with the long gray braid hanging down her back, dressed all in black with sturdy Wellies to match. She hadn’t even been on his radar. Could Lorna have pushed Tilly into the carding machine? He sized her up; five-two, if that, he guessed, close to a foot shorter than Tilly. Lorna looked feeble but looks could be deceiving. His gran had been small in stature yet had no problem grabbing his ear and Kin’s ear at the same time, and holding steady. Gran had the strength of a man twice her size. Scottish women were tough and scrappy that way.

  He pulled out his phone and texted MacTaggart and McCartney. A search party would have to be organized.

  “Stay here,” he said to Diana. He would have a quick word with Lorna before he found the Laird, who would know which of his clan could help search the forest. It might be time wasted speaking with Lorna first, but he didn’t want her to get away if she was involved.

  As he walked toward Lorna, who was now placing quilt blocks on the design wall, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Diana was following him. He wasn’t surprised. She had a curiosity about her that would’ve made her an excellent detective. He shook his head in wonderment. Had she appointed herself his partner to help solve these murders? He hadn’t had a partner on the police force since Denny died.

  Rory walked to the design wall. “Lorna?”

  The woman turned to face him, looking confused. “Aye.”

  “Do ye have a minute?” he asked. “I have a few questions.”

  “Sure?” She was definitely puzzled. She laid the rest of her quilt blocks on the table.

  “I understand you brought a Lover’s Knot quilt with ye to the retreat?” Rory said. “May I see it?”

  She shook her head. “Nay. I left it back in Gandiegow. I carried it from home trying to decide whether I wanted to have Marta Dixon sign it or not.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure even yet. We’ll see what the verdict is by the time I go home. Marta doesnae seem sorry for killing off the Buttermilk Guild, now does she?”

  He didn’t have an answer. “Did ye happen to see how Tilly Dixon, Marta’s sister, got caught in the carding machine?”

  Lorna shook her head again. “Och, no.”

  “Where were ye when it happened?” Rory asked.

  Her face turned red. “I was in the restroom. Probably too much tea this morn.”

  “Did anyone see ye in the restroom?”

  Her embarrassment turned to anger. “Ye cannae think I would push that shy bird Tilly into the carding machine!” She glared at him as if he was nothing to be scared of. “Though I have to say that many of us quilters would like to have a go at Marta, the Buttermilk Guild killer!”

  “Calm yereself. I’m just gathering information.” Rory was realizing he needed to look into each retreat goer more thoroughly. “We’ll talk later,” he said to Lorna, and gave her a look to convey she better not go anywhere.

  He left her standing with her mouth hanging open, and once more Diana followed him. “What are we going to do now?” she said. “Organize a search party?”

  He rolled his eyes. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am. I’ll need someone to keep an eye on the quilters.” Especially Lorna. He pulled out his phone.

  “We can all help.” Diana persisted. “We can look for them. Speed is important, am I right?”

  He lifted his eyebrows at her, as if she should know better. “The quilters are all suspects, so the answer’s no, I don’t want them to help. Besides, what I need are locals. People who know the area. The woods.”

  “Let’s talk to Sophie,” Diana offered.

  “I overheard it said that Sophie is a recent transplant. We’ll talk to Hugh instead. The Laird will know where to look first.” But this particular criminal wouldn’t necessarily know the forest, either. Rory halted. “I need to sit down and draw up a timeline. Bring the quilters to me one at a time. We need to know which one of them saw Parker and Ewan last.”

  Hugh rushed into the room. “I just heard what happened.”

  That was quick. Was the ballroom bugged?

  “Is Ms. Dixon all right? We’ll gladly make it up to her by replacing her scarf. Or medical treatment. Anything she needs.”

  Oh, so Hugh was talking about the carding machine incident and not about the disappearance of Parker and Ewan.

  Diana recovered first. “Tilly will be fine.”

  “We do need your help, Laird,” Rory said. “We’re looking for Ewan and Parker. Have ye seen them?”

  “My cousin?” Hugh frowned, but pulled out his phone. “I’ll ring him up.”

  “I already tried,” Rory said. “His mailbox is full. Can you call his estate to see if he and Parker have shown up since I called?”

  “Certainly.” Hugh hit a button and put the phone to his ear. “Aye. ’Tis Hugh. I’m looking for Ewan. Is he around?”

  Rory could see the answer on Hugh’s face.

  “If he pops up, have him give me a ring,” Hugh finished. He put his phone back in his pocket. “No one has seen or heard from him since he left this morn. I noticed his Here Again vehicle is still outside the shearing she
d.”

  “Would he have borrowed someone else’s auto?” Rory asked, hopeful.

  “Nay. Not with his own vehicle here.”

  Rory had no choice but to ask the next question. He gestured toward the woods. “Do ye have any cabins on the estate?”

  “Just the one. A small hunter’s cottage.” He gestured toward the large window. “There’s a path leading into the woods through the trees.”

  “Can ye take me to it?” Rory said. If there was a crime scene, he wanted to be the one to find it.

  “Aye,” Hugh answered solemnly, not asking why.

  “I need someone guarding Marta and the quilters while we’re gone,” Rory said.

  Hugh was already tapping out something on his phone. “I’m on it.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Diana piped in, her voice strong and steady.

  “That’s not a good idea. You should stay,” Rory said.

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’m going anyway.”

  He knew she would, no matter the rainy weather, no matter what they would find, and no matter if he forbade her to or not.

  As Diana slipped her arms into her raincoat and zipped it up, four men came into the room. They each nodded to Hugh, and then scattered to the four corners of the room. Hugh’s watchmen.

  Diana tapped Hugh on the arm. “Lead the way.”

  Rory followed the other two to the ballroom exit, praying they weren’t about to find the Lover’s Knot quilt with the dead bodies of Ewan and Parker wrapped inside.

  Diana slipped away on a brief side-trip to Coira, probably to let her know she’d be gone for a while. In the kitchen, Hugh stopped at the door. “All the four-by-fours are in the shop for winter maintenance. We’ll have to get there on foot.”

  Rory nodded. Fine by me. The adrenaline pulsing through his system needed a release anyway.

  Out in the rain, side by side, they made their way across the pavement. Once they reached the forest path, they went single file—Hugh leading, Diana in the middle, and Rory bringing up the rear so he could keep Diana safe.

  He had to hand it to her. For being a girlie-girl, she didn’t mind traipsing through the mud and guck. But he wasn’t all that surprised. From the start, he’d known she was made of sturdier stuff than what he imagined most Americans were. Diana was strong, impenetrable as steel—she either didn’t have a squeamish side, or was choosing to ignore it.