by Traci Hall
“The other day—I’m the one who found Isla.” The memory brought a sorrowful emotional punch.
He paled and reached inside the bucket for his sponge, wringing it out in his large palm. “That’s right.”
“I saw you at the police station?”
He shuffled from one foot to the next, water dripping by his toes. Now that he wasn’t dancing, his skin broke out in goose bumps from the chilly morning air, and he rubbed his muscular arms. “Yeah. I got called in tae answer a few questions, but I havenae heard anything since. You?”
“No.” Nothing new today, anyway, she amended silently.
She saw that he didn’t want to talk to her, so she tilted her head toward Lydia and told her bestie, “Gerald here is studying tae be a solicitor.”
Gerald nodded shyly.
Lydia stepped closer and cooed, “I love your car—what do ye do for the daily grind?”
Under her stare Gerald stammered, “I’m an a-actor in the reenactment battles in Inverness.” He gave his car a halfhearted swipe of the sponge.
“I can see you now in nothing but a kilt,” Lydia said approvingly.
Gerald’s cheeks went crimson and he shifted to Paislee, who was the safer of the two. “The detective just had some questions aboot Isla that he thought I could answer as her neighbor, but I told him we werenae close. She’d only moved in two weeks ago.”
Right after being fired by Roderick Vierra. “She used tae work for me,” Paislee said, and laughingly motioned to the gorgeous wooden building with ornate doorknobs and window frames. “I didnae pay well enough for this—do you know if she had a job somewhere else?”
His brow furrowed before he cleared his expression. “She mentioned a severance package—but she wasnae happy with it and wanted more.”
“That sounds like the Isla I knew,” Lydia said, her hand finding Gerald’s forearm.
Sensing an ally, Gerald said, “Right? She was no angel even though she looked like one. I heard her and her ex going at it—fightin’ hard enough tae make me walls shake.”
“Billy?” Paislee asked.
“Some guy with a beat-up old truck that didn’t match the neighborhood—neither did she. Isla got fired for shagging her boss, and her ex, that Billy guy, was pissed. Dinnae blame him. I wouldnae put up with that, either.”
Paislee’s mouth opened in shock as she thought of Roderick sitting nervously behind his desk, staring at the silver-framed photo of his wife and kids. He’d been cheating on her with Isla?
“I knew it.” Lydia smacked Paislee on the arm. “Didnae I tell you? Isla was not a nice person.”
Gerald rubbed his fingers together. “She wanted more than what her boss gave her for a ‘severance’ package, if ye know what I mean.”
Had she been so busy protecting Isla that she’d been blind to the truth?
It didn’t matter; the girl was dead and had no champion.
“Were you and Isla secretly an item? Is that why your dog was in her flat?” Paislee didn’t look away from him. She needed answers.
“I dinnae ken what you’re talking aboot,” he said, his easygoing manner fading behind a solicitor’s fake smile. She’d thought he’d been too open to lie—but he’d just proved her wrong.
“Let’s go,” Lydia said. “Bye.”
Lydia waved at Gerald while Paislee got into the passenger side of the red Mercedes.
“He knows more than what he’s saying,” Paislee said. How had her Isla been sleeping with a married man? How could that married man have taken advantage of Isla?
“I agree with you, but you’ll get more flies with honey, honey.”
“Gran used tae say that—you know what Brody said?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “ ‘Who wants flies? ’ ”
Lydia chuckled. “He is a prodigy. I’m just waiting for the rest of you tae realize it.”
“I love my son more than life itself, but he can barely do his times tables.”
Lydia pulled out of the complex’s parking lot. “There’s more tae life than math.”
Chapter 16
Lydia drove to a row of brick storefronts with modern everything, set back at least a mile from the water. Bare steel posts, a corrugated roof that looked as flimsy as a piece of tinfoil, and a smooth cement parking lot. Not a single plant or tree livened it up.
She had flower boxes in the front of her shop, as did her neighbors down the row. The narrow sidewalk separating the shops had moss growing in the aged cracks. The sea was close enough that she could smell it when she stepped outside of Cashmere Crush.
Paislee’s heart sank. “Here?”
“Give it a chance.” Lydia practically bounced from the driver’s seat.
Paislee pulled herself from the Mercedes and studied the brick façade—was that not even real brick? The place had zero character. “You said it was by the harbor.”
Lydia palmed her keys. “It is.”
She looked at Lydia like she looked at Brody when her son attempted to stretch the truth.
They went inside the vacant space tucked between a solicitor’s office, the lawyer specializing in divorce, and a psychiatrist’s office. Each had a single car parked before their door, and she was willing to bet it belonged to the owner.
“This is plain. Too dull.” She twirled around, taking in the blinding white-on-white interior. She couldn’t bring Wallace with her to work like she did some days, or Brody—heaven forbid he scuff the white wood floors.
“You can paint,” Lydia said. “You have a creative touch.”
“This would take an entire palette, and I dinnae have the energy.”
“You could still put your shelves up as dividers and that would create color. It’s only a wee bit smaller than what ye have now.”
Paislee didn’t like the feel of it—it was too white and new, when she had an affinity for the homespun and unique. “Thank you, Lydia, but I dinnae think this is for me. Let’s keep looking.” She exited fast, and her friend slowly followed.
Lydia begrudgingly got back behind the wheel. “If ye don’t snap it up it will be gone within the week,” she said.
“What’s the price?”
She named something three times what Paislee was paying now for Cashmere Crush.
“I cannae do that! And there isnae foot traffic like I have now. I know it doesnae bring in a lot of customers, but I just got a sweater order from a tourist from London. I need to be visible.”
“I hear you. I just want the best for ye, that’s all.”
“Your idea of the best would be this,” Paislee agreed as she gestured with her thumb behind them as Lydia drove away. “My idea is a little more old-fashioned. And . . . I cannae believe I just said that.”
She’d been fighting against old-fashioned her whole life only to realize now that the traditions and ideals suited her after all.
“Me either.” Lydia glanced at her and sighed. “But I know you’re right. Sairy for wasting yer time.”
“You didnae—you met Gerald, and you agree that he’s hiding something? He’s shady. Too fit, too charming, too—”
Lydia smacked her palm against the dashboard.
“What?” Paislee jumped in her seat.
“I got it.” Lydia snickered. “I remember now.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Gerald Sanford—I thought I’d recognized him from somewhere.”
“He’s an actor. Probably one of the parades.”
“His arse, Paislee, I recognized the swing of that tanned bum.”
Her brow arched as she turned to face her friend. “What?”
“My boss’s sister’s wedding shower. For a little extra he would do a little extra, if ye know what I mean.”
Paislee blew out a breath. “What are you talking about?”
“Gerald was an exotic dancer known as Highland Hung.”
“You’re kidding.”
Lydia’s smile broadened. “Naw, I remember all right.”
“
Don’t solicitors have some code of conduct?”
“With an ass that nice, who’s gonna tell?”
“I guess ye have a point.” There were some things that Paislee was glad to hand off to Lydia, and socializing was one of them. She would have died of mortification to have a man wiggling his bum before her at a bridal party.
“I’ll refine yer search when I get back tae the office with things that you actually like,” Lydia said teasingly. “Our system picks up listings as soon as they’re available. You want tae know what’s odd?”
Paislee nodded expectantly.
“Your building still hasn’t shown up.”
“What on earth? That’s strange. This Sunday Theadora’s holding a meeting for all the business owners tae see what can be done. I said I wasnae sure about going, but maybe I need tae be there. Especially if there’s a chance the sale fell through?”
“I didnae say that; it could be financing woes. But you have tae go,” Lydia said. “I’ll watch the laddie. We can get an ice cream at Finn’s.”
“You’re the best.” She tapped her lower lip. “Is there any way you can find out Billy Connal’s mobile number for me?”
“If it was a landline I could, but unless he has his cell listed I willnae be able tae find it. I’ll try, but don’t hold your breath.”
“The police cannae reach Isla’s mother.” Her eyes stung again, but she didn’t cry. “What a nightmare—as a mum, I can’t imagine anything worse.”
Lydia stopped at a red light. “You care—it sounds like her mother didnae.”
“Not enough. Just like mine.”
“Another thing you felt you had in common?”
Paislee shrugged. “If Gran hadnae taken me in, and shown me how to knit, where would I be now?” The poorhouse or living off the government. Neither appealed to her.
Lydia sniffed. “You would have been fine, Paislee, because yer strong. You would have found a way—but we can agree that your grandmother was a blessing in yer life. And, vicariously, mine. I get compliments every time I wear a Paislee Shaw original.”
“You were my guinea pig, at the beginning, remember?” One sleeve a bit longer than the other, or the hem a mite crooked, Lydia was patient with Paislee’s first attempts at fingerless mittens and knit hats with a hole in the center for a woman’s ponytail.
“Aye. I’ve kept a few of the throwaways for blackmail, when you get so famous for your knit goods that you forget all about poor Lydia.”
“It’ll never happen.” They’d been best friends since they were Brody’s age.
Lydia had moved away for five years to marry and divorce before coming back to her family in Nairn, and Paislee.
“I’ll call ye later if I find Billy’s phone number, but I dinnae want you feeling guilty about Isla. You were a good friend tae her—you don’t owe her anything.”
Paislee disagreed. Lydia slowed before the front of Cashmere Crush, right at eleven. The clock tower, a few blocks away, could still be heard as it chimed eleven times. “I’ve made a promise tae see that she is at peace.”
“Now, why does that sound ominous?” Lydia tilted her head after she put the Mercedes in park. “I’ll see you tonight, love. I’m thinking of a melted Gruyère over baked green apples.”
“Yum.” She didn’t care that Lydia didn’t knit—so long as she brought snacks. “Can I pick up a bottle of wine?”
“Naw—I have the perfect white in mind.”
Paislee climbed out of the car. “Thanks again.”
“Stay out of trouble?”
“I live a boring life.”
“Liar!” Lydia honked her horn and drove off.
When Paislee entered her shop, her gaze was drawn to the blue yarn on the counter and the sweater she had left to knit. She was responsible, and responsible people did not just close shop to go chasing after lying, sneaky ex-boyfriends.
Isla’s wan image came to the front of her head, demanding justice.
Paislee called her house number from her cell phone. There was no answer. Was Grandpa all right? He’d seemed in fine spirits, but what did she know? According to the leaflets, old age often led to dementia and physical ailments. What if he’d had a heart attack or something?
In a panic, she amended the sign on the door to read Gone Until Twelve and left out the back to drive home.
She burst through the front door and blinked in surprise. Her grandfather had swept, mopped, and dusted. Wallace greeted her with a tail wag, then went back to Grandpa Angus, who was finishing a toasted cheese sandwich at the kitchen table.
“Wallace, no beggin’,” she said. “Grandpa, this place looks great.”
“I can earn me keep.”
What would make him think that he had to? A wave of apprehension tickled her nape and she rubbed the back of her head. “Oh?” Her gaze went to the envelope of papers from the headmaster, put away near the phone. “How did the calls go?”
His wrinkled face turned pink. “They treat ye like it’s a crime to reach the ripe age of seventy-five. I should be in diapers, eating mush. Well, I have all me teeth, thank ye verra much.” His voice rose with indignation as he widened his mouth to show her, then snapped his teeth together.
She sat down across from him, resting her elbows on the table. He appeared in decent health, especially for a man of his years, and heaven knew his pride was intact. “What did you discover?”
“We need tae find Craigh, and then I’ll be outta yer hair, but don’t expect any extra from the government fer keepin’ me. ”
“I wasnae expecting anything!” Paislee said in shock. “I thought ye might be eligible for assistance for yer own place, that’s all.”
“I called the Mona again, and the number just rings.” His brown-eyed gaze held a hint of fear behind his glasses. “Those bawheids at the station dinnae know anything. Craigh will have a good explanation when he comes back, and we’ll joke about it over a pint.”
“No answer? Should I try?”
“The number is there.” He tapped a business card.
She called, and he was right—no answer.
“I may not have a lot of money, but I can fish, and keep the house. Give the mangy dog a bath.”
Wallace whined and tucked his body low behind Paislee’s feet at her chair. “He is not mangy. I take him tae the groomer.”
It was a sad fact that the dog had a standing appointment every three months while Paislee had to do her own nails and brows.
“I can manage the clippers well enough.”
“I dinnae want you tae do too much, Grandpa.”
“Ye sound like that woman on the phone now, insultin’ me with her questions—like I cannae take care of meself.” He frowned as if just realizing that something was off. “Why are ye here before noon?”
She had a feeling if she said to check on him that wouldn’t go over so well and she’d never get her floors swept again.
Gerald had mentioned that Billy’s old truck had been outside—had the exes been hooking up, behind Tabitha’s back, perhaps trying to get back together? What would Tabitha have thought about that? Could be why she hadn’t been keen on giving out his number.
She’d make a surprise visit to Billy and ask him the truth about his relationship with Isla. Why had they been arguing so loudly at Isla’s flat?
“Any chance ye can help out at the shop for an hour?”
He scowled, but she caught a pleased look before he wiped his face with the napkin.
“What fer?”
Feeling protective of Isla, she didn’t tell Grandpa about Isla sleeping with Roderick and possibly Billy, too. “I want tae try Billy at Lowe Farm again, tae get Isla’s mother’s number.”
Grandpa Angus rose and washed his plate, then placed it in the dish strainer on the counter. “Awright, but I have a call in tae the police station in Dairlee about Craigh. I gave them this number.”
“Fine. You should be back by two at the latest. No doctor appointments today.”
; Wallace went out back with a treat; then she and her grandfather walked out the front door to the Juke. She snuck a peek at the older man, in khaki trousers, boots, and a thin sweater. He’d left his trench coat in the house due to the mild weather.
“Do you have everything ye need? I can take ye shoppin’, if you’d like.”
“I’m fine.”
“All right.” Pulling her thoughts from shopping, her brain went to the next thing he might want. “We should get you a key made.”
He glanced at her quickly. “I dinnae mind using the one under the flowerpot.”
She shook her head. “And a set for the shop, so you have yer own.”
“You’re going tae be moving, I thought.”
She scowled and drove them to Cashmere Crush, parking in the back. She hated that he was right.What was the point of getting an extra key? She needed her Knit and Sip tonight to be buoyed by the communal energy of her ladies as they crafted and harmlessly gossiped.
They went in and she got Grandpa set up with a deck of cards so he could play solitaire. She’d refilled the candy dish, but she would have to make a stop at the grocery store for fruit and crackers. What other snacks could she leave around that might be healthier for him?
“I didnae mean tae upset ye,” he said. “About the shop.”
“You didnae.” She shrugged and admitted, “I just hate not knowing what’s going tae happen next.”
This would be the opening where Granny would offer sage advice to lift Paislee’s spirits. Grandpa considered this and scratched his beard. “It’s a sair ficht for half a loaf.”
Basically, life was not a fair fight and she wouldna be getting her fair share.
How she missed her grandmother.
Chapter 17
Paislee left Cashmere Crush in her grandfather’s hands—it was better than not having anybody there at all.
She had a bad feeling about Isla, Billy, and Tabitha. And Roderick. What a mess affairs of the heart were. She’d thought she’d been in love once, but what did anybody know at seventeen?
As she drove, she didn’t bother with the radio like last time she’d made the picturesque journey through cliffs and green fields—instead, she used the twenty minutes to imagine scenarios that ended with Isla sprawled on the floor like a lass’s broken doll.
