If he didn’t get his head back in the game—get the job done and catch the killer—he might as well give up being a detective altogether. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Diana distracted him so.
He had a job to do and, he needed to keep reminding himself, his job wasn’t Diana.
* * *
When Diana woke in the morning, Rory was gone. The rest of the day was somewhat of a blur, as Deydie kept her busy sewing and prepping for the arrival of the newlyweds. Diana shouldn’t have had any time to think about Rory. Or to look up to see if it was him every time someone came into the ballroom. Or when she was sent on an errand.
No time to think about him at all.
Except she did.
Diana escaped to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea. As she stirred in a teaspoon of sugar, she remembered last night and how she’d let her guard down. How another chink in her armor was exposed. Rory had touched more than her skin. He’d touched her heart and soul. So much for keeping it light.
She shook her head at the foolish thought and checked her watch before gazing out the window. Anyone watching would think she was waiting for Parker to arrive. But really, her eyes were searching for Rory. Not because she wanted to see him, per se, but because if she caught just a glimpse, she might be able to breathe again.
A vehicle pulled up outside. It wasn’t Rory, it was Parker and Ewan!
Diana tore outside, forgetting all about putting on a coat. She ran to Parker and hugged her tightly, saying into her hair, “We were so worried about you! Why didn’t you tell me you were running off to elope?” She pulled back to look at her.
Parker’s nose crinkled and Diana knew she was chagrined. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t. I knew you’d try to talk me out of it.” Parker smiled. “I love him, Diana. When you know he’s the right one, you just know.”
“Well, then, I am very happy for you,” Diana said sincerely. But already her mind had gone elsewhere. When you know he’s the right one, you just know. That little voice inside—who’d been vying for Diana’s attention since the start—was yelling at her now: You know the truth. Rory is your one!
Hugh came out to greet his cousin. “Ewan! Ye old married dog.”
“Come on inside,” Diana said. “It’s cold out here.”
Diana and Parker hurried into the warm kitchen, leaving Hugh in the driveway, pounding on Ewan’s back and giving him his congratulations.
Parker chattered away excitedly about her whirlwind romance and wedding to Ewan.
“You do look happy,” Diana observed.
“I am, so happy,” Parker said. “But I feel terrible we made you and the others worry.”
It was more than worry! There was a manhunt!
Parker continued without reading Diana’s mind. “I knew you thought we were moving too fast but we knew it was right for us. We decided to slip away and come right back.” She wrapped an arm around Diana. “Can you forgive me?”
“Of course I can.” Diana felt guilty. If she hadn’t repeatedly lectured Parker about taking things slow, maybe she would’ve let everyone know what they were up to. “I shouldn’t have tried to tell you what to do. I hope you can forgive me, too.”
They hugged some more, and the next hour passed quickly as Diana took Parker to the newly christened honeymoon suite and helped her get dressed for the céilidh in the flowy white dress they’d picked up in Las Vegas. Then, Diana hurried to her room to put on her purple dress—freshened in the dryer—that Parker had returned. Diana’s nerves had kicked into overdrive. Would Rory attend the dance?
At seven, Diana made her way downstairs and found Ewan and Parker at the doors to the ballroom, ready to make their entrance. Ewan, decked out in a kilt and suit jacket, stepped inside first, then offered his hand to Parker and presented her to the crowd with a little bow. Cheers and applause broke out. Diana, left standing alone, looked around the room at the smiling faces, but none of them were Rory.
When Bethia and Deydie made their way over to her, she slapped on a fake smile and gushed, “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Aye,” Deydie said. “Some of us are getting too old for these last-minute hijinks.”
Bethia touched Diana’s arm. “Are ye all right? Ye look a little sad.”
“No! I’m happy Parker and Ewan are safe. I just haven’t recovered yet. They gave me quite a scare.”
Both Bethia and Deydie looked as if they knew Diana wasn’t telling them the complete truth.
“Can I get you both something to drink?” Diana certainly needed a stiff one. But she was on the job and couldn’t drink her worries away.
“Aye,” Deydie said. “I’ll take a dram of whisky.”
“Me, too,” Bethia said. “I feel a chill in the air.”
Diana felt it as well. A chill that had started when Rory left her bed this morning.
Darn it, she was really starting to feel sorry for herself. At the bar in the corner, she ordered the old quilters’ drinks and a water for herself.
“Ye’re not celebrating with the rest?”
His voice made her jump, causing the drinks to slosh over the edges and drip onto her hands. Her insides felt raw and she had to wait a beat, so her voice wouldn’t come out as shrill. She took a deep breath, trying to think of something benign to say. Something besides, Where the hell have you been all day?
“I need to get these to Deydie and Bethia. They’re waiting on me.” Okay. That struck the right neutral tone.
Before she could escape, though, the lights dimmed, and Hugh’s voice came over the microphone. “Please join the bride and groom on the dance floor as they enjoy their first dance.”
Diana gave an apologetic shrug and left Rory by the bar.
She was at war with herself. She wanted to run back to him and throw herself into his arms. But he’d left her alone all day to wonder what he was up to.
Diana got the drinks to Bethia and Deydie without further incident.
“Evening, ladies.” That voice was behind her again. “Ye don’t mind, do ye, if I borrow Ms. McKellen for a minute? Police business.”
“Right,” Deydie said sarcastically. She had his number, in other words. Rory’s response was to give the two women his charming smile before ushering Diana away. She was too flustered to say anything and didn’t protest as he opened the French doors and guided her out onto the balcony. She didn’t even have to say she was cold, because he was already slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. The body heat it retained made her instantly cozy and warm. It was overwhelmingly intimate to have his heat wrapped around her like that.
“Did ye miss me today?” he said, smiling as if he already knew the answer.
She lifted a cocky eyebrow. “I was too busy to think of anything but Parker and Ewan’s wedding reception.” She wasn’t going to tell him how she’d pined for him all day. She was going to be strong and ignore how much she wanted to be in his arms again…right now.
Rory must’ve seen the obstinacy in her eyes and accepted the challenge, because he reached for her. Fortunately, Diana would never know if she would’ve succumbed to his charms or not, because Bethia stuck her head outside. “Come in, Diana, come in. We’re going to give Parker and Ewan their wedding quilt now.”
“I’m coming.”
Rory looked both frustrated and disappointed as Diana ducked under his arm and left him alone on the balcony.
* * *
Rory watched Diana slip through his hands, wanting her to come back -- and glad she was gone. Really, he needed to break the spell that she’d put him under. He’d done well and managed to keep his distance all day. But seeing her across the ballroom, he’d felt compelled to get her alone. To kiss her. And more. There was so much he wanted to say to her.
Like, When I see you, I lose all focus.
Ah, hell. He had it bad for her, but a murderer was still on the loose. He should be happy Bethia had interrupted them.
Rory returned inside and watched a
s Ewan and Parker were called to the low-rise stage, where the band was located. Hugh and his wife, Sophie, stood behind a microphone.
“And now,” Hugh said, “it’s time to present yere wedding gift.”
All the quilters came forward, Deydie and Bethia at the front, carrying a box with a large ribbon tied around it.
Parkers looked stunned, and Ewan simply beamed at his new bride, as if she was the greatest gift.
“Go on now,” Deydie said. “Stop gawking and open it up.”
Parker pulled the ribbon and the bow fell away. Ewan took the top off the box and then Parker pulled back the tissue with a gasp.
“It’s beautiful!”
Aye. The women had done a bang-up job, using Scottish rosettes of different tartans. Two more of the quilters took the corners and held it up for everyone to see. There were a lot of well-deserved ooos and ahs.
“Turn it around,” Deydie said. “Show ‘em the back.”
The women turned in a big circle, exposing the back, which was made of stripes of white and tartan. Rory could see the quilters’ signatures on each of the white strips. He wondered if Diana had signed her name as the others had. He saw her standing by the video camera, which was on a tripod, trained on the newlyweds. But she wasn’t looking through the camera; she was looking at him.
Rory made his way over to her, not completely sure what he was going to do when he arrived. The lights dimmed again, and the band started up a slow tune. This felt like a sign. More like a hard nudge. He didn’t give Diana a chance to turn him down, but pulled her into his arms and danced her out on the floor with the other couples who were swaying to the love ballad.
“Who’s going to man the video camera?” Diana seemed proud of herself for coming up with the excuse.
“It’ll be grand on its own.” Rory wondered if the camera caught the spell Diana had put on him, for he was certainly feeling it now. He laid his cheek against her hair and breathed in, not caring one iota if the camera caught what he was doing or if anyone else saw that he was smitten.
He must’ve been doing something right because Diana relaxed in his arms, leaning into him.
“Better,” he murmured into her ear. He felt a shiver go up her spine. In response, he nuzzled her neck. He tilted his head down, gazed into Diana’s eyes for a moment, then kissed her.
The moment was full of promise and magic. The music. The swaying. It all spoke of things to come.
Diana didn’t seem to mind they were kissing in front of everyone, because she kissed him back, long and sweet.
Then a scream pierced the room and Rory jerked away, his senses on full alert now.
“What is it?” Diana asked
“I’m going to find out,” he said at once, and left her on the dance floor.
MacTaggart and McCartney caught up with him at the door but Rory instructed his team, “Watch Miss Dixon.”
“Help!”
Rory ran toward the cry, which was coming from the kitchen. When he got there, he saw the upper half of Mrs. McNabb in an opening in the floor. She was clearly on the steps down to what had to be a cellar.
“He’s in the root cellar,” she wailed. “He’s dead.”
Rory didn’t ask who, but instead rushed to Mrs. McNabb and helped her up and out of his way. Sophie and Hugh had followed him, and he asked them to take her from the kitchen.
Rory peered down the dark steps. A single bulb swung ominously back and forth, but he didn’t see a body. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves before pulling a torch from his back pocket. He pointed the light at each dark corner as he descended the stairs, in case the killer was still down there with the body.
Before he reached the bottom, he saw what Mrs. McNabb had seen—Leo Shamley sprawled against a 100-pound sack of potatoes with a butcher knife stuck in his chest. Thrown across his legs was a quilt—the Lover’s Knot quilt, the same quilt design that Diana had shown him earlier on her phone.
Leo’s eyes were open, and his outstretched arm was cold.
“What is it?” Diana hollered down to him.
“Stay up there,” Rory commanded.
It didn’t surprise him when he heard Diana coming down the steps.
“I mean it, Diana. I need ye to stay put this time,” he said. This was too grisly for her. “Please. Do as I ask.”
“Okay,” she answered. “I’ll wait for you up here. Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked quietly.
“It’s Leo,” he said.
She was silent for a long minute. “But why him?”
“I suppose to hurt Marta?”
There was another noise at the top of the stairs. “It’s Hugh. Can I come down?”
“Nay,” Rory said, carefully checking the back of the quilt for a tag. He found none. “I’m coming up. No one is allowed down here.” The fewer people to disturb the crime scene, the better.
When he got to the top, it was Diana who gave him a brave smile. “You okay?”
Rory nodded.
Hugh looked unsettled, not nearly as composed as Diana was. “Sophie’s with Mrs. McNabb in the parlor. She told us what she saw.”
Rory nodded. “Mrs. McNabb is to stay in the parlor. You and Sophie are to tell no one what she says. Got it?”
“Aye.”
“The kitchen is now off limits, too,” Rory said. “And Hugh, do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Hugh said.
“Get Declan and Tavon to guard the entrances to the ballroom to keep everyone inside. I need to call Major Crimes to get a full team here.”
“Aye.” Hugh hurried from the kitchen.
Rory looked at Diana and saw lines of concentration etching her face. “Are ye all right?”
She nodded. “I have a lot of questions, though, like how was he killed?”
“Not yet.” He could trust Diana, but he wanted to keep the details to himself for as long as possible. “I need to speak with Deydie before I interview Mrs. McNabb.” He had to determine the location of Lorna’s Lover’s Knot quilt before moving forward.
As Rory and Diana walked to the ballroom together, their intimate moment on the dance floor felt like a lifetime ago. Murder had a way of skewing the passage of time like that. He’d have a long night ahead of him with no more dances tonight.
He stopped just outside the ballroom. “Go on in, Diana. I need to call HQ.”
Diana gave him an understanding smile and slipped past Declan and Tavon. Rory pulled out his phone and broke the news to headquarters that another American was dead.
When Rory entered the ballroom, he found the chandeliers had been switched from mood lighting to noonday bright. The band was silent, but the room buzzed with speculation. Rory was glad Mrs. McNabb had been sequestered in the parlor. There would be no containing the details, otherwise. He texted Hugh, reminding him again not to divulge any information that Mrs. McNabb might be sharing with them.
Rory found Deydie with her entourage. “May I speak with ye a moment in private? I need a favor.”
She nodded and followed him. “What is it?”
“I need to know which Quilt to Death quilts are left in Gandiegow.”
“By the retreat goers? Or by the Gandiegowans?” she asked.
“Both. I need a list of who has what quilt, and which quilts, if any, are missing,” Rory said. “Ma’am, I’m counting on yere discretion… ye mustn’t tell anyone what I’m asking for.”
She nodded solemnly and pulled her mobile from her dress pocket. “I’ll ask Moira to check the quilting dorms and then speak with the rest of the quilters in town, but I won’t tell her why. This may take some time.” She frowned, as if remembering that one of her beloved quilts was already evidence in a murder.
He appreciated Deydie for not asking him why he needed this information.
Rory eavesdropped as she gave instructions to Moira and watched her closely for signs that Deydie was guilty of Leo’s murder, but he saw no trace. He’d taken a chance by asking this favor of her, but he had
a feeling this loveable old bat was a safe bet.
Deydie finished and pocketed her phone. “Moira will get back to me straightaway. I told her not to tell anyone what she’s doing. She’s a good lass.”
“Thank you.”
Rory hurried to the parlor to speak to Mrs. McNabb, who was sandwiched between Hugh and Sophie on the settee. Mrs. McNabb had seen nothing suspicious. She was in the kitchen almost the entire day, but had just returned from having a half hour nap. When she needed some potatoes from the root cellar, she found Leo instead. Rory left Sophie and Hugh to console Mrs. McNabb and, with MacTaggart and McCartney, began the tedious task of interviewing everyone in the castle. He talked to Marta first, who claimed to be on the balcony having a cigarette while, waiting for Leo to come to the dance. As he interviewed each person, he heard the same answer over and over. No one had seen anything. But then again, everyone said they were focused on the evening’s festivities, believing unwisely that the bad luck of the quilt retreat was behind them.
Deydie waddled over to him and held out a steaming mug. “Moira went through Duncan's Den with a fine-tooth comb and found one Quilt to Death Sampler and one Quilt to Death Bear Paw quilt. She’s going from cottage to cottage now to make the rest of the list.”
Lorna’s Lover’s Knot quilt had not been found.
Deydie looked at him shrewdly. “I know ye have murder on yere mind, but I have to tell ye that we saw ye kissing the American lass on the dance floor. Why don’t ye pick some nice Scottish lass and not a foreigner? We’ve plenty of homegrown lassies right here in this room.”
Whose average age was over sixty. But Rory kept his thoughts to himself and steered Deydie back to the investigation. “When do you think Moira will get back to ye about the rest?”
“She’ll get back to me when she can. Gandiegow’s a big place,” Deydie said.
No, it isn’t. “Can ye give me an estimate then?” he asked.
“It’ll happen in due time.” Deydie sized him up. “We need to talk about the American lass. What are ye doing with her?”
“There’s nothing going on between myself and Diana.” Nothing he wanted to discuss with Deydie, anyway.
Kilt in Scotland Page 23
