by Traci Hall
“Aye. I’ll be in touch.”
“You know where I work. Where I live. You even know where I keep my spare key. I have nothing tae hide regarding Isla, Detective Inspector.”
She banged out of his office. She hated that she’d lost her composure when it was something she prided herself on.
Norma and Amelia rushed to her. “Are you all right?” The older woman offered her a bottle of water.
Amelia rubbed Paislee’s arm. “He can be a tough man.”
“Can you believe he asked me where I was when Isla died?” Out of everything he’d said, that stung the worst.
“We heard you shout that ye didn’t do it,” Norma said.The phone rang and she lumbered around the desk to answer it.
Amelia glanced guiltily to Zeffer’s office. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? The pressure is on for him tae solve this case, so dinnae take it personally.”
Paislee nodded and made her way out the front door in a fog, too upset to stop for tea and a raspberry scone as she hurried back to Cashmere Crush. Her sanctuary.
When she arrived, there were fresh flowers on her counter.
Grandpa folded the metal ladder. “Delivery just came for you.”
She was still upset as her gaze skimmed over the bright bouquet. “Who are they from?”
She’d never received flowers before, and she couldn’t think who might have sent them now. She’d just left the man who owed her an apology—he didn’t have time enough to order them. Ach.
“I didnae read the card, lass,” Grandpa chided before putting the ladder away.
She reached for the sealed envelope. Had Tabitha made the bouquet and maybe stuck something sharp in it? Noting the address, she saw that it wasn’t from the flower shop across the street.
“ ‘Get well soon, Fordythe Primary.’ ” Her brow arched. “Since when does a school send a parent flowers?”
“I bet that headmaster’s behind it.” Grandpa stuffed his hands in his khaki pockets.
“Grandpa—I dinnae want tae talk about it. Did you get the yarn put away?” She could see for herself that he had but was too flustered by the events in her world to think clearly.
“What’s got you in a dither?”
Leaning back against the high-top table, she recapped what had happened with the detective, her face hot.
Grandpa glowered. “Ye didnae mention that the accident was deliberate.”
She smacked her forehead in exasperation, hurting her neck. “He doesn’t seem tae care!”
“The police have their own way of doin’ things; I’ve seen it aboot Craigh, too.” He puffed out his thin chest. “Are ye in danger?”
“Naw.” She tried to banish the memory of the silver car behind her. “I dinnae ken anything about how Isla died. I told the detective she wouldnae have committed suicide. I told him tae question Gerald Sanford.”
“The pretty boy that lives next door tae Isla?”
“Yeah. Lydia called him Mr. Highland Hung.”
Grandpa chuckled.
“You know what? I bet you Isla was blackmailing Gerald. That’s why he killed her.”
He straightened and took off his glasses to stare her in the eye. “That is not funny, lass.”
Chapter 23
Paislee had no time to discuss with Grandpa why Gerald had killed Isla, because James from next door walked in, a worried frown on his very weathered face.
“Paislee, love, what is this I hear about ye being run off the road?”
“I’m fine.”
He gently touched her shoulder. “Tourists come tae Scotland thinkin’ all roads are the North Coast Five Hundred, thanks tae Jeremy Clarkson. I have half a mind tae set up a drag race right in front of his house.”
“You know Jeremy Clarkson?” Grandpa asked.
“Aye. We’ve tossed back a few pints.” James’s empathetic gaze paused at her bruised cheek and neck brace. “Nothing broken, then? ”
“Naw.” She rested her elbow on the high-top table, not willing to admit that the walk to the station and back had tired her.
“I’m glad yer all right.” James offered his hand to Grandpa. “And who is this?”
“Angus Shaw,” her grandfather said, giving James’s hand a solid shake. She had visions of the pair, wily and wrinkled, roaming Nairn in search of a good time.
“James Young. Name was funny tae me when I was young, but now it’s a real crack-up.” His grin invited Paislee and Grandpa to laugh with him. “How long are ye here for?”
“At least tourist season,” Paislee interjected to get Grandpa off the hot seat. “He’s been an immense help.”
Jerry McFadden arrived through the back entrance carrying a box of sandy beige yarn that she could hardly keep in stock but she hadn’t expected it until Tuesday.
“Hi, Jerry.”
“Morning, Paislee. Ach—the rumor is true.” He scanned her face with concern. “Are ye feeling better than ye look?”
Grandpa and James glared at the man.
Jerry deposited the box on the counter and gave Paislee a soft hug. “It was just a joke, ken?”
“I know, I know.” She shook her head at the older gentlemen and their matching scowls. Jerry would be forty this year and had been a good friend to her always—but just that.
“I wanted tae make sure that yer well, so I squeezed your delivery in, but I cannae stay. I’ll visit yer booth tomorrow.”
“You’re sweet for stopping by—see you then,” she said as Jerry disappeared as quickly as he’d shown up.
Next, Ned from the dry cleaner arrived on the pretext of seeing if she needed any help with her booth in the morning—but she could tell he was just checking on her, too. He didn’t stay long, either, after seeing with his own eyes that she was all right.
Margot from the lab showed up with an all-natural remedy to reduce bruising. “Arnica pellets under yer tongue, and vitamin K cream for a topical. I can’t stay, love, but I’ll see you Sunday at the meetin’? Oh.” She pulled an ivory card from her pocket. “This is from Lourdes and Jimmy. Jimmy is out sick, so she sent the card with me.”
Paislee was overwhelmed by the support of her business family. “Thank you—yes, I’ll be there.”
“You’re welcome, Paislee. Hard to believe I’ve known ye since you were twenty and ye first moved in. Take care, now.” Margot departed in a whirlwind of sandalwood perfume.
Two minutes later, Theadora had sent a girl down with a box of mini raspberry scones and a note to get well. Did they have a grapevine?
James snagged a scone as he gave her a one-armed hug, and left to work on a pair of leather sandals.
“I’m knackered.” She wilted onto a chair.
Her grandfather bit into a scone. “I see why these are your favorite.”
They didn’t even sound good to her right now. She should work on the Oxford Blue fisherman’s sweater, but she couldn’t picture the pattern in her mind, so she promised to do it later, early Monday.
“Grandpa, can ye get me five skeins of that sage yarn from the third shelf?” She could at least manage to work on the key fobs.
He did, offering unsolicited commentary. “Shame tae have left this job tae the last.”
“Have ye not seen my life? This drama isn’t that unusual—there’s always something. Flat tires, chicken pox, laundry—how much dirt can one boy attract?”
“Yer gran ran the household,” he admitted with a shrug. “I didnae start cooking until I moved in with Craigh.”
Paislee switched from her chair to a stool and the high-top table to keep her neck and shoulders straight so she wouldn’t strain her muscles. She crocheted the raised center of the flower petal using a small hook for the fine work.
“Want tae learn tae crochet?” she asked. “It’s never too late.”
“No thank ye. Cookin’ is as close to me feminine side as I’ll get. It’s a guid thing for Brody that I’ve come along or he’ll be spoilt by all the women around.”
Paislee rose to
the argument in a flash. “Brody is not the least spoiled, and if it wasnae for women, men wouldn’t know how to—”
The door opened again and she turned with a quick smile of welcome—which fled as Detective Inspector Zeffer entered.
Grandpa settled behind the register to watch the fireworks.
“Hello again,” the detective said.
“Morning,” she replied begrudgingly. She didn’t get up from her stool.
The detective glanced at the ceiling as if she was being unreasonable. “You’re upset?”
“It isnae every day I’m suspected of being a murderer.”
“I never actually suspected you, but I had tae ask. It’s my job.”
She supposed she could give him that. She looped sage green around the hook, twisted, and pulled. “And did ye ask Gerald where he was in the morning—and not just then, but yesterday around quarter tae three?”
“Gerald is not at home.”
Which meant he’d called or driven by, at least. She set her project down. “What can I help ye with, then?”
“You mentioned that ye know Dr. Whyte?”
“He birthed me and Brody,” she said defensively, the older man’s smiling visage dear to her heart. If the detective thought the doctor had done anything wrong, the town would run the detective back to wherever he’d come from.
“Something more recent?”
His smug drawl made her want to shake him. “Brody had a checkup on Wednesday, and we saw Tabitha there, with a migraine.”
“Brought on by guilt?”
So he remembered what she’d said. “Right—from cheating with her best friend’s boyfriend, if not worse. Flora was there for allergies”—she thought back to the full waiting room—“and Mary Beth’s husband Arran was in. I’ll be going back next week,” she said snarkily. “Why do you want tae know? He’s a suspect now? He wasnae Isla’s doctor—she went tae the heart specialist in Inverness.”
“I know that.” The detective’s jaw clenched. “I’m trying tae put together her life here in Nairn.”
Paislee sat up. “She wasn’t blackmailing Dr. Whyte. The man is a saint.”
“I never said that—don’t leap tae conclusions.”
“What would ye have me think, then?”
“I would have ye simply answer my questions. I told you, I had access tae her emails.”
“If your link tae the doctor is as flimsy as the link you tried tae create with me, then I would give it up. Look more closely at Gerald, for heaven’s sake. Maybe police work isnae for you.”
Grandpa Angus waggled his silver brows at Paislee.
“What?” She was in no mood for games or being subtle. Lydia’s reminder about more flies with honey whispered she should be nice.
“Why don’t you tell the detective what you thought about Gerald?”
Detective Inspector Zeffer turned toward her grandfather with dismay. “The two of ye were discussing the case?”
“Just conversation tae pass the time,” Grandpa said, bristling at the detective’s tone.
Paislee cleared her throat to get the detective’s attention back on her before he recalled that her grandfather had been sleeping on a bench the morning of the murder, with no alibi.
“Gerald was in Isla’s flat, and I bet you he was looking for something—not yarn, Detective, but what if she was blackmailing him?”
“On what grounds?”
“He moonlights as an exotic dancer.”
The detective’s pale green eyes narrowed to slits of glass. “He already told me that he was a dancer.”
“Highland Hung? Couldn’t something like that ruin his chances as a solicitor?”
Zeffer crossed his arms.
Paislee tilted her head and arched her brow. “It’s not unheard of, dancers offering extras.”
He flushed.
“What if Isla had proof, like video or something, and Gerald wanted it back—or maybe they argued because she raised the price of her silence, like she did with Roderick Vierra?”
He blew out a breath. “This is all speculation.”
“It wasnae speculation that his dog ran out of Isla’s flat. She couldnae tolerate animals. When she worked for me I never brought my terrier tae the shop.”
For effect, she grabbed a knitting needle and jabbed it down against the counter. “And Gerald drives a silver BMW.”
Her grandfather left the cash register to stand by her in support.
The detective looked from her face to his.
“Sounds logical tae me,” Grandpa said.
“I want facts, not conjecture.” Detective Inspector Zeffer smoothed the lapels of his blue suit, which he had a tendency to tug. “It’s my job tae weed through what you’re telling me and find the truth.”
“Oh?” She quirked her brow. If so, Gerald would be behind bars.
“Do you know how many silver cars are registered in Nairn? For just under fourteen thousand residents?”
She shifted on the stool.
“Over three thousand.”
Paislee gasped.
“That’s more than a few,” Grandpa conceded.
“Aye, but rest assured we’re checking on them.” Detective Inspector Zeffer swept his gaze from Grandpa to her. “Dinnae think for one minute that I’ve forgotten you were run off the road.”
She opened her mouth to tell him again what she thought, but he cut her off. “It just may not be the same person who killed Isla. Dinnae make the mistake of assuming they are one and the same.” He left without saying another word.
Chapter 24
Paislee and Grandpa closed the shop at three fifteen to go pick up Brody from school. “I will add you tae the list next week, so you can get him whenever I can’t.”
A fairy cranky grandpa instead of a fairy godmother had been dropped into her life, but Paislee was not complaining. At least she had someone.
Grandpa drove, and they entered the queue at Fordythe. Paislee searched the front of the building for Hamish McCall to thank him for the flowers but didn’t see him. She waved at one of the school chaperones as Brody climbed in the back of the car.
“I forgot about this white car,” her son complained. “It sucks.”
“Excuse me?”
“I like our Juke ’cause I can see it over the other cars in line.”
“I havenae heard back from the mechanic yet—let me give him a call.” Having a chauffeur was pretty sweet, too.
She dialed Edward’s Mechanic, the phone to her ear. “Hello,” she said when a male voice answered. “This is Paislee Shaw—I’m calling about a Juke that was brought in yesterday?”
“Hello, Paislee, it’s Joseph. I just put on yer tires last month?”
Sucking in a breath she said, “I know.”
“Good news is that the tires are fine.”
“Bad news?”
“Weel. We have tae replace the airbag in the driver’s seat, as well as the driver’s seat belt, which jammed.”
Her sore shoulder muscles throbbed their confirmation.
“I know ye’re on a budget.”
“Aye. But I have collision insurance if the damage is over five hundred?”
“We are looking at four just for the airbag, with the new sensor. That doesnae take into account the front bumper—but since you have insurance, I’ll do the work and bill them, and you can make payments to me on the five hundred. Deal?”
Tears burned her eyes. “Thank you so much, Joseph. And it will be safe?”
“Like brand-new,” he promised. “How are ye getting around?”
“A rental, so we’re okay for transportation. How long will the repairs take?”
“Give me a week. I have tae order the airbag in from Edinburgh.”
“I am very grateful tae you.”
“I hope they catch the eejit that ran ye off—coulda been much worse. I did the tow into the shop.”
“I know how fortunate I am—I think I have a guardian angel.” Granny.
“Awright, then. I’ll be in touch soon. Dinnae worry, Paislee.”
She was glad she’d kept the phone conversation private, because she didn’t want Brody to know that the action had been deliberate or how close a call it had been. “Thanks!”
Hanging up, she shifted to see Brody in the back seat. He wore a look of concern that didn’t belong on a boy’s face.
Grandpa snorted. “Well? Is it an arm and a leg?”
She smiled wide, exuding gratitude and assurance. “It will all be covered by our insurance.” She didn’t share about the co-pay. “We should have our car back next week.”
Her son exhaled as if the weight of the world had lifted.
“You know I will always take care of you, don’t you, Brody? We will find a way, like we always do.”
“I know, Mum, but ye can’t take one more thing.”
She made a vow to stop saying that immediately. “Life is full of ups and downs, and as long as we have each other, that’s all that matters.”
“Should I drop ye off at Cashmere Crush, like we talked about?” Grandpa asked.
“Aye.” She said to Brody, “You and Grandpa get tae order pizza and watch movies.”
“Yes!” He fist-pumped the air. “Way better than Knit and Sip. It gets so loud I can’t hear the telly.”
Grandpa slowed to a stop in front of the shop and Paislee got out, waving good-bye with a promise to see them later. “Lydia will bring me home. Have fun!”
They drove off, the white back end of the Sentra flashing in a ray of sun breaking through the gray sky.
She hurried inside and put away the yarn from Jerry, then crocheted flowers until half past five, when it was time to set out the drinks and crisps for the night. Elspeth was the first to arrive at ten to six, followed by Flora, then Amelia, Lydia, and, last, Mary Beth.
The ladies all fussed over her bruised cheek, cosseting her and showing their care in different ways. Lydia brought an extra cheese dip for Paislee to bring home with her; Elspeth gifted a geranium in a pot; Flora handed over a bag of dried comfrey leaves to ease inflammation and sore muscles. “Bathe in them, or steep them; both are good.” Amelia gave her a book on staying positive no matter what happened, and Mary Beth handed her a gift certificate for a pedicure.
