Market for murder, p.13
Market for Murder, page 13
“Another whiskey, aye, luv!” Marjory said to the woman. “Right on it!”
Carly could clearly see her pour the drink from a bottle in the well.
But Mrs. Dougherty would not be a suitable victim. She was far too elderly and while she might have decent health, she could also have a weaker heart than a younger person or suffer from any of the other ailments that attacked the human body as people aged.
No.
The chosen victims would be in their twenties to thirties...
Or perhaps even younger.
And as Carly had hoped, Marjory’s attention switched to her.
“Hello and welcome! I saw you came to meet my mate here, Willy, the other night. Dining with friends, but...?”
“I love to sit at a bar and I’m obviously American, so... I’d love to get to know what it’s like to sit at a bar in Edinburgh,” Carly told her.
“Ah. And you saw Willy again, I see. But now, I do love the boy, but he’s neglecting you! That ale is about gone. May I get you another?”
“I’m trying to keep it low-key. Kids, you know?” Carly said.
The woman’s expression changed. The color seemed to seep from her face, leaving it white.
“Little ones, yes, of course. You have kids at home?” she asked.
“Well, not mine. But I’m with a friend, been with a friend... We’re not a real thing, yet. He was divorced, and you know how that goes...takes a while. But if we do keep this thing going, I want to be a good stepmom. I would not take over or anything—their parents should always be their parents. But I want to be a good stepmom, and that means learning how to enjoy a bar without getting two sheets to the wind!” Carly said, improvising.
Carly observed the woman’s reactions to her fabrication. Marjory appeared conflicted.
I’m a mother, I’m not a mother, I’m the person I’d want my ex to be with when he started a new relationship, someone who would care about and take care of another woman’s children but always remember their real mother was their real mother.
Carly heard Luke’s voice through her earbuds.
“You’re coming off a bit too decent and charming,” he warned. “And don’t tell me you can’t help it, you’re just that charming.”
She glanced across the bar. He was pretending to be on his phone. He was watching her in return with a fair amount of amusement.
But he was right.
“Then again, who knows?” she asked Marjory. “Maybe nothing will ever come of the two of us. I don’t have a ring...”
“And yer out without him,” Marjory noted. “And you were out the other night, right? Didn’t I see you at a table as well as the bar?”
“I have relatives here,” she said. “Oh, what the heck. Maybe it’s a night to indulge. Oh, how rude of me. Marjory, do you have children?”
Again, the woman couldn’t quite control the paleness that rose to her face.
“I do. Son and daughter. They’re beautiful. Worth anything in the world,” she whispered. “I’ll get you a whiskey. Take a night to enjoy yourself!” she told Carly.
She hurried away, but she didn’t grab the whiskey in the well as she had done for the older woman sitting next to Carly.
She walked around to the back of the bar.
“All right, she has decided you’re not so nice,” Luke said. “But, still...the kids.”
“I know, I know,” Carly murmured.
“That’s the stuff,” she heard Luke say through the earbuds.
Marjory returned with her drink and apologized for the wait. “We’re always busy in here. I am sorry to take so long,” she said.
“Not at all!” Carly told her. “Marjory, what do you do with the kids at night? I’m always trying to figure that out. I mean, you’re working with kids! It can’t be so different here than it is in America. I’m in the travel business, and I work a lot of nights. Does your husband look out for them when you’re here at night?” she asked.
“I’m divorced,” Marjory said. “I have a good nanny. Except...my wee ones are on vacation with friends.”
“Oh! Where did they go?” Carly asked.
“Um, I think they’re traveling near, just south,” Marjory said.
“Ah, maybe they’re off to see Rosslyn Chapel. I want to see it myself! I loved the few minutes in getting to see it—the movie made from that book, The Da Vinci Code,” Carly said. “The Knights Templar were persecuted, burned, hanged, tortured, all that, in the 1300s, and Rosslyn was built in the mid-1500s, right? So, I’m not sure the Templars could have hidden anything there—but then again, it was really all about the bloodline, right?”
“What? Um,” Marjory murmured, looking as if she might have said too much and was stumbling to remain the friendly bartender full of information for tourists. “Aye, right, they find out, if I remember right, that the heroine was of the bloodline of Christ and Mary Magdalene.”
“And a shadowy society guarded the secret! Something like that. But the chapel and the area are so pretty!”
“Roslin, Midlothian, Scotland,” Marjory murmured.
“Only about twenty minutes from here, right?”
“Depends on where your car is and what traffic is like,” Marjory said.
“I hear there are those who want all the vaults open, but then there’s been so much fill, it would be just about impossible without the whole place collapsing. Still, I don’t care about the vaults. I understand it’s just beautiful, and that even the Arthurian legends seep into the building with all manner of carvings and—”
“It’s quite beautiful. Drink up! That’s a very special whiskey. Try it—let me know if you like it!”
Marjory, looking worried, turned to the older woman next to Carly and spoke briefly, seeing if she was doing all right, and then moved on.
“Dump the alcohol. MacDuff has called Brendan Campbell. They’re getting people out to Rosslyn as we speak. May be made up, but we must follow every lead. Give it time. Let her bring you another, try to see if you can glean anything else,” she heard through her earbuds.
Dump the alcohol. Of course, that had been her intent all along, but now it was easier said than done. She turned to Mrs. Dougherty, who was nursing her second whiskey.
“This really does seem to be a great little place! I love it when the staff is so nice,” Carly said to her.
“Oh, aye, but we have many fine establishments!” the older woman said, looking at Carly. Her eyes were a bright blue and her hair was a beautiful, snowy white, puffing around her face like cloudy halos. “American, eh? Keep coming here. It’s lovely. But you should also try a ghostly good pub, Banshee Labyrinth! Oh, and so many more, of course! Greyfriars Bobby’s Bar is lovely. Oh, luv, if you want to sample some truly delicious Scottish fare, I say Howie’s, right here in Old Town. Now, New Town has many of the more gourmet places, though some may be found near here. Still...”
She paused, frowning. Her napkin had slipped from her glass.
Carly used the opportunity to bend down to retrieve it, allowing the liquor in her glass to seep into the dark paneling of the floor beneath her.
“I’m so sorry, luv!” the woman said.
“No problem at all,” Carly assured her. As she had bent down, she had seen that Kaitlin Bell was in the room and seemed anxious to speak with her.
“Dear me! I don’t drink often, and it seems I don’t do it well! I must take a trip to the ladies’ room, but I don’t want to leave my seat especially now that my glass is empty,” Carly said.
“I shall guard it!” Mrs. Dougherty promised her.
“Thank you, thank you,” Carly said. She left the bar area and she headed for the ladies’ room. She hoped Kaitlin would understand she should talk, and Carly would just listen.
Thankfully, Kaitlin was shrewd and realized the situation. As Carly stood in line, Kaitlin spoke to her quickly.
“I think I know where they might be. A foreign interest recently bought land near Rosslyn Chapel. There were those who were upset, who wanted the ground purchased by a college or archeological institution. They believe there are tunnels beneath the two old cottages on the property that at one time connected to the chapel. It’s all conjecture, of course, like almost everything about Rosslyn is conjecture or theory. But I believe the underground areas there really exist, which is why many people don’t believe they should have been sold to any private enterprise, much less a foreigner. There were many news reports on it a month or so ago,” Kaitlin told her. “Hardly world news when some are upset that a few cottages are sold, but children could be kept in the underground, a basement or even a tunnel.”
Carly pulled out her phone and said, “Yes?” Then she looked at Kaitlin and said, “Thank you so much!”
“Take care, take care!” Kaitlin warned her.
And Carly nodded and said softly, “Thank you, again.”
She pretended the line was too long and turned to leave, speaking quietly as if into her phone as she returned to the bar.
“Campbell should know of them. There are two possibilities, cottages built near the same time as Rosslyn Chapel, bought by a foreign interest. Some people are in an uproar. Could be nothing, but—”
“We heard Marjory. Daniel is on his way there already. He insisted Luke be the one to come with him,” MacDuff said through her earbuds. “I’m still at a table and ready to follow. But buy more time. They need at least half an hour or more.”
“Copy that,” Carly murmured as she went back to the bar.
Mrs. Dougherty had kept her stool for her. Now, however, a new—full—drink had been put there for her to enjoy.
“Marjory said that one is on her. If you don’t imbibe often, you should have some fun!”
“Well, that was quite kind,” Carly said.
“And,” Mrs. Dougherty said, leaning toward her, “a very nice thing. She gave you a drink and felt that she was then obliged to buy one fer me, too!”
Carly laughed. “Well and good!” she said. “By the way, I’m Carly. Carly MacDonald.”
“MacDonald?”
“I know. I don’t look Scottish.”
“Well, lass, yer quite beautiful. Those eyes! Dark and mysterious and lovely!”
“Thank you. We tend to be a mix of cultures and countries in the States.”
“I’m Emily. Emily Dougherty. And I am a wee bit of a mix meself! Me da is half Irish and half French, and me mum is half Welsh and half Scottish!”
“We’re like mutt puppies and they are strong. Stronger for the mix,” Carly said. She smiled at the woman, looking across the bar where Luke had stood before.
MacDuff had left his table and taken up the position. He was chatting and blending in. She caught bits and pieces of his conversation.
“Carly?” Luke’s voice. “Don’t leave—we’ll report back. Daniel wanted me to be with him because we ran into the gentleman we met in the street the other day. He had information on the cottages because a relative of his lived there or worked there or something years ago. Jordan is just outside where the drinking smokers gather. Try to buy more time.”
“Right,” she murmured.
And she did. It was easy enough. William MacRay came by to chat with her, and she smiled at him. He was better at acting completely normal than he had given himself credit for.
Emily Dougherty was happy to fill her in on all aspects of Edinburgh.
She managed to ditch the second drink. Of course, Marjory came by to serve her another one.
Half an hour passed easily and then a few minutes more.
She was about to figure out a way to speak to Luke and ask him his position.
She laughed at one of Emily Dougherty’s descriptions of a young man at the bar and managed to spill another drink.
And seeing her glass empty on one of her rounds, Marjory Alden refilled it again.
“Private stash,” she heard MacDuff whisper in her ear.
“Aye,” she heard herself murmur, picking up the Scottish affirmative. And as she did so, she noticed something else.
A man who was the very image of the sketch created through the description given to them by Flora MacDonald was at the bar.
He managed to situate himself between those sitting and those standing behind them. He was almost lost in the crowded area.
He was keeping an eye on Marjory.
And, Carly thought, he was keeping an eye on her.
She had done it, she realized.
She had managed to make herself the night’s chosen victim.
But...
She still had to wait. To play the game. And pray it had been easier than they had ever dared hope to find Marjory’s children.
* * *
Daniel was doing the driving; he was familiar with the route. Luke sat beside him in the front passenger’s seat.
And Keith MacDonald sat in the back, leaning forward so he could speak with them.
“Luke, thank you,” Keith said. “We all know that...well, that you’d rather be one of the teammates watching over Carly. But Daniel needed backup, and he needed backup who could see and hear me.”
“Carly is bright and knows what she’s doing,” Luke assured him. And that was true. But they all counted on their backup. And while he knew he was doing the right thing, the necessary thing under the circumstances, it was true; he wasn’t happy about leaving the bar.
“Right,” Daniel murmured, grinning slightly as he drove. “But when we get there—”
“Here’s the thing, of course,” Keith interrupted. “I can will myself through walls and enter through closed doors. But I can’t just wish myself elsewhere. That’s why so many ghosts are in their old homes or even haunting their burial sites. When we wish to go distances, well, as in life, we need trains, planes and automobiles. Well, it used to be horseback or buggy, but we’ve come a long way since I discovered that...I remained, but I was no longer alive.”
“I’m not sure if I envy you or not,” Daniel told him. “I mean through time, we see so much that is heartbreaking with our families, our friends...”
“That’s true. We see so much that is beautiful and brilliant, too,” Keith said. “Most souls just go on. I think we only stay if we have a purpose, and I’ve wondered through the years what mine might be. And now...now I believe I’m here because I could not help when Jamie died, but maybe I can help now!”
“We thank you,” Luke assured him quietly.
“And here’s hoping!” Daniel added.
Daniel was an extremely competent driver and managed to do the short distance to Roslin in just about twenty minutes.
The magnificent visage of Rosslyn Chapel came into view. Great pillars rose to pointed arches, and the chapel seemed to dominate the horizon.
“It’s an amazing place, the stuff of legend, fantasy, theory and so much more. The columns and statuary are fascinating. Stories persist of King Arthur—from a way earlier time—but most have to do with the quest for the Holy Grail. Be it as some literature suggests, a bloodline or in truth a chalice or something of the like,” Daniel murmured. “The cottages that were sold to the dismay of many were built before the chapel. They remain, though they were built for some of the workmen who came to do the building. And there...the first one lies just ahead.”
“It was founded by William Sinclair, first Earl of Caithness—the actual construction began in 1456. But the charter received from Rome dates back to 1446, dates that confuse some people,” Keith explained. “But they needed a place for workers. It’s the third house of worship here, the first is in Roslin Castle, and the buttresses of a second can still be seen in the graveyard,” Keith offered. “And there ahead is our destination.”
Compared to the grandeur of the church, the cottages were small and simple. They were built as places for workmen to live and nothing more.
“Anglican now and, like us, went through changes!” Keith told them. “The chapel suffered a terrorist bombing in 1914, but visitors are welcomed and encouraged. The cottages we’re heading for are not on chapel property, which is why they could be sold and are privately owned.”
“One day, I’ll get back here and really see the chapel,” Luke said. “For now—”
“You have a plan?” Daniel asked.
“I do. If there’s real trouble, Campbell has police who can be here in less than a minute—they’ve been waiting for us to act.” They were out of range for use of the earbuds now; Luke had gotten a text from the man. “Keith, here’s what I’d like to do. Daniel and I are both armed, but we don’t want to go in as if we know something wrong is going on. I’ll let Daniel do the talking. He’s going to say we’re with a division of child welfare, and someone heard children crying. Before we get to the door, you’re going to have already gone in. When you find the children, you let us know—then we’ll pretend to hear a kid scream and enter under what we call exigent circumstances.”
Keith nodded. “Give me five minutes. I can’t go great distances, but I can move fast.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
They parked in front of the expansive property, and Keith drifted on out. Luke glanced at Daniel and then looked down at his phone, as if he were reading from a file.
“Just in case someone is looking out,” Luke said.
“Of course. I wonder if whoever answers the door is going to do so with a gun.”
“Couldn’t that someone be in trouble just for having a gun?” Luke asked.
Daniel laughed. “Not if he just shoots us first.”
“Ah, well, they won’t know we’re armed—and like Keith, I can move damned fast.”
Daniel leaned back for a minute. “We’ve got to give him time...”
“We are doing so,” Luke assured him. Finally, he opened his door and looked at Daniel.
