Regrets of the fallen, p.9
Murder at a Scottish Social, page 9
She turned toward Anders and Sonya as Anders scowled. “Anders looks mad,” Paislee said.
“He’s a complete nyaff. What was Kirsten thinking? I mean, yes, she’s dead now and we cannae know that, but why risk your marriage over someone so contemptable?”
“I have no idea. Maybe she was bored with her perfect life?” Paislee couldn’t even begin to imagine. “You know who else might know where Fergus is hiding?”
“Who?”
“The chauffer—I think his name is Hendrie.”
“He probably knows a lot aboot the family.” Lydia tapped her fingers on their table. “Want me tae chat him up?”
Lydia was a beautiful secret weapon that Paislee had no problem unleashing on the unwary. “Maybe. Let’s think about it.”
Sonya pushed past Anders, her nose curled with distaste, and stalked to the shelves.
“I feel sorry for Sonya, too,” Paislee said.
“Sounded like they had different ideas of what their relationship was—and she got hurt. Never lower your guard. It’s a timely reminder for me,” Lydia said.
Paislee patted Lydia’s arm in total, but silent, disagreement.
Sonya eyed the list of items for sale on a clipboard and searched the shelves again.
“Something’s wrong.” Paislee rose and Lydia stood, too, then they walked down their aisle closer to Sonya and Anders to listen in.
“Could it have fallen somewhere?” Anders asked, his tone concerned.
“Really?” Sonya remarked incredulously.
“The gaming laptop was there earlier.” Anders crossed his arms but it didn’t fend off Sonya’s disbelief.
“When could this have happened?” Sonya demanded. “We’ve all been here, all day.”
“I saw the system this morning,” Lydia said, stepping forward. “On the shelf, next tae the television.”
“When was the last time you saw it?” Sonya asked.
Lydia touched her finger to her chin. “For sure? I checked tae see how much it was getting, two thousand pounds, after lunch, but then I didnae look again. I’ve been monitoring the painting.”
“So, noon?”
“Naw, more one.” Lydia thought back. “Aye, that’s right.”
Paislee asked, “Who would steal items meant tae bring in money for the food bank?”
“The room is closed off!” Anders said.
“It’s not, either—the back door was open for fresh air half the day,” Mari said as she and Christina joined them. The pair was no doubt drawn in like magnets to drama.
“What a disaster,” Christina declared. “This never would have happened if Kirsten and Gerard were in charge.”
That statement lay flat between them and nobody said anything else. Sonya glared at Anders.
“What?” he sniped. “Just say it, then.”
“We need tae fix this,” Sonya said. “This kind of sensationalism will not help the club’s reputation in this community, and that matters or it will fail. I have everything in this venture.”
The security guard sauntered over. “What’s going on?”
“A gaming laptop has managed to wander off,” Sonya said in a curt tone. “Dinnae suppose you saw anything? I’m paying you, so I suggest you think long and hard aboot anything unusual or you willnae be hired back.”
Well, that was plain-speaking, Paislee thought. Sonya had a backbone under her elegant exterior.
“Shiny black box, aboot this big?” Lydia demonstrated with her arms.
The guard lost some of his cockiness. “Well . . .” He brightened. “I didnae think a thing of it, since you’re selling stuff, and I only remember because I’d never seen a Bentley SUV before, and this chap in a hat—big guy—loaded a black box intae the back.”
Sonya gritted her teeth. “Anything else?”
He shrugged. “This is a sale; folks came oot with packages and bags. Didnae think it was a crime.”
“It’s not,” Anders said. “Calm doon, Sonya. Help me go through everything tae see if something else is missing. Mibbe it will turn up.”
Hendrie had been here, without Gerard. It was possible he’d bought something for himself, and the security guard was mistaken about the shiny box. Paislee checked the time—a half hour more until this long day was over. “Blaise is back at our table,” she murmured to Lydia.
“I’ll keep looking,” Sonya said, her mouth drawn. “You finish with the computer bids—unless you’re done?”
“Almost. Just need the final tallies.” Anders returned to the elaborate computer system on the dais.
“We can help,” Lydia told Sonya. Paislee matched items to the paper list. There was the cashmere sweater set, with a bid of a thousand pounds, but no gaming laptop in a shining black box.
“This is verra disappointing,” Lydia said. “I know what the Silversteins paid for that.”
“We’ll do our best tae find it,” Sonya promised. “I second Paislee’s sentiment—who would steal from the food bank? No matter how you pretty things up, the truth is there are children who go hungry in our little town, bairns that need food.”
“Children?” Paislee asked. For some reason she just thought of older folks, with tempers and bushy beards, needing sustenance.
“Aye,” Sonya said. “When Anders and I were brainstorming for a worthy cause tae launch the reopening of the building, I discovered some alarming facts. Not only Nairn, but the outskirts, where poor families used tae fish for a living, or worked on the rigs. They need help—giving food is the simplest, fastest way until we can find a better solution.”
“Like the Trussell Trust?” Lydia asked.
Sonya nodded. “You’re familiar with them? They’re the most notable source for collecting nonperishable food.”
“ ‘Five weeks too long.’” Paislee knew the slogan and had donated cans and nonperishables at Fordythe every time they had a drive.
“Over that long school holiday, kids that are entitled tae free meals go hungry and it isnae right. Since the new benefits system in 2017, there’s been a thirty percent increase in families needing food parcels.” Sonya lowered her arms but it was obviously something near to her heart.
“How did the Buchanans get involved?” Paislee asked.
Sonya flushed red. “Anders knew them from when we needed wealthy sponsors for the club . . . he thought they’d be a dynamic fit tae bring light tae the cause.”
Paislee quickly changed the direction of the conversation away from Anders and Kirsten. “I think you’ve done wonderful work here.”
“Thank you. Anders thought I’d gone mental when I told him what I wanted tae do with this property. I saved it from being torn down when I inherited a bit of money from my granddad.”
“Why this place?” Paislee asked.
“I have black-and-white photos of my great-grandmother here when it first opened as a luxury spa.”
“A personal connection tae it.” Lydia nodded. “And now it’s beautiful again. It was in bad shape two years ago but it’s come tae life.”
“My brothers are in construction, which helped with the cost,” Sonya said. “Anders and I did our fair share of painting.”
“Is he your . . .” Lydia trailed off.
“We have an open relationship. I thought eventually we’d get hitched but that’s all changed in the last forty-eight hours.” Her eyes turned glassy. “You know why.”
If you give away the milk, Gran used to say, why buy the cow? If it was marriage Sonya wanted, then maybe she should have been clearer.
“Oh! The constable is back.” Sonya shook her head. “We should file a police report on the missing gaming laptop. Lydia, I’m so sairy aboot that.” She led the way to the open conference door.
“Why’s he back?” Lydia asked Paislee under her breath as they fell in step behind Sonya.
Blaise joined them as they walked to the front.
“Christina poked him hard about the biscuits, and urged him tae find answers—maybe he’s been on the phone in the car park this whole time?” Paislee raised her brow. Far-fetched but possible. “He told me that they received notification last night of peanuts in the cookies—but no details, and only in response tae me saying I’d worried all night that I’d been poisoned.”
“I cannae believe they didnae tell you, once they knew,” Blaise said.
“I can.” Lydia sniffed. “Police officers can be verra protective of what they share with the public, right, Paislee?”
Hadn’t they learned that over and over? “I just hope the constable has answers.” Paislee stayed next to Lydia and Blaise. Why else would he have come back inside looking so pleased with himself?
“Constable Rory!” Christina said, getting up from the table where she sat with Mari, the two forgetting their tiff . . . for now. She cut off Sonya.
“What did you find out?” Paislee asked when they all converged on him.
The constable winked at Paislee. “It took some doing, but the constable has allowed me tae share the results of the test on the cookies.” Constable Rory patted his vest pockets, removed his tablet, and read: “The almond wafer—”
“That’s mine,” Blaise said, without the pleasure she’d had earlier.
“—had no peanuts or toxins.”
Blaise briefly closed her eyes as if saying a little prayer. Mari took Christina’s hand, scooting between her and Sonya. The constable read, “The orange oatmeal lace cookie. No peanuts.” Mari exhaled.
“The macaroon,” Constable Rory paused to eye Christina, “had no toxins, or peanuts.” He took a deep breath and announced, “The shortbread had been topped with brown sugar . . . and peanut dust. There was no peanut in the cookie itself.”
Christina and Mari gasped. Blaise, too. But Paislee’s dismay went inward as she recalled how Kirsten had touched her tongue to the topping.
“It’s really true. Somebody murdered our friend,” Christina said. The ladies collapsed into tears.
Constable Rory sucked his lips inward as if to keep himself from saying one way or the other.
“Have you found Fergus Jones yet?” Paislee asked. The chef had to be questioned, and it wasn’t looking good for him. A dusting of peanut crumble? Couldn’t get more cheffy.
“No.” Constable Rory placed his tablet in his pocket.
“I’m sairy, and now might not be the time,” Sonya said, “but we’ve had a theft of one of our big-ticket items for the food bank.”
Constable Rory shuffled his boots. “You’ll have tae report this at the station.”
“Oh.” She stepped back.
The officer cleared his throat. “Christina Baird, I’ll need you tae come with me. Constable Dean has a few more questions for you.”
Christina turned the color of unbleached wool. “I didnae do anything!”
“You can drive your own car, and I’ll follow you tae the station.”
“Now?”
“Aye.”
Silence ticked by in painful increments.
Mari patted her friend on the shoulder. “Go, love. I’ll call John and have him meet you there.”
Christina nodded and retrieved her purse, her lower lip quivering as if she were a little girl about to get in trouble.
Chapter 9
Paislee, Lydia, and Blaise remained near the door after Christina and Constable Rory exited. Mari tapped her lower lip as if in thought. Was she wondering if one friend had killed the other?
“Do you want me tae call John?” Blaise asked.
Mari blinked. “Naw, I will. Christina cannae go tae jail—she’s just not verra strong. Mibbe he can bring her something tae calm her anxiety.”
“That’s smart,” Blaise said.
Mari raised her brow, letting them all know that Blaise’s approval wasn’t needed.
“Is there anything I can do tae help?” Blaise plowed forward with her offer despite the chill.
The dark gray of Mari’s blouse gave her skin a sallow hue as if her grief was taking a terrible toll. Her heel caught on the beige carpet as she had started to turn. “With what?”
“I dinnae ken . . . Maxim, or Robby? Mia?” Blaise spread her arms to the sides. “Our kids are all in the same class.”
“You’re leaving Highland Academy, Blaise, so the answer is no. Lara can step in. God knows she’s been waitin’ on the sidelines long enough. I wonder where she was during the cookie fiasco?”
Paislee admitted that it was a good question . . . maybe Lara thought that by getting rid of Kirsten, she could step in with Gerard.
“I want tae help, and now with Christina being questioned . . .”
“Stop right there, Blaise.” Mari held up a hand weighted with rings. “Christina did not put peanuts on Kirsten’s shortbread, I can guarantee that. She doesnae have the balls.” Mari dialed and put the mobile to her ear. “John? It’s Mari, aboot Christina . . .” She turned away, the bones of her shoulders visible through her silk shirt.
“Grr,” Blaise said, shaking her head. “Even when she’s nice she’s mean.”
“She’d probably feel better if she had a large shepherd’s pie with extra gravy.” Lydia patted her own flat stomach.
“She says she has stomach issues,” Blaise shared in a whisper. “Worse than the gluten thing. Kirsten told me when they were teenagers Mari had been fat.”
“I don’t believe it,” Paislee said.
“I think it’s true because Kirsten would tease her aboot getting her a fat suit.”
“Talk aboot mean!” Lydia said.
“I know, I know . . . but they were two peas in a pod, with Christina the third smaller pea just waiting for her chance to get bigger. Mibbe now, well.” Blaise dropped her gaze.
“And where did you fit in?” Paislee asked.
Blaise made a humming noise in her throat. “I was the smashed pea. Smashed under their collective heels.” She exhaled. “It makes me bloody well mad when I think of how Kirsten treated me. What’s worse? I let her!”
“Dinnae say that too loudly or you might be next down at the station,” Lydia warned.
Mari returned to their group and palmed her mobile. “John is on his way tae the station. I relayed your offer tae help—he said thanks, and he’ll let you know if Robby needs something.”
“Thank you,” Blaise said.
Paislee nodded at her, glad that she’d passed on the message to John on Blaise’s behalf.
“We have tae look oot for each other. This whole thing hasnae sunk in yet.” Mari crossed her arms, the elbows sharp points. “I cannae think aboot it or I’ll fall apart. We have tae ensure this Nairn Food Bank fund-raiser is a success for the Buchanans’ sake. Gerard and Maxim will need something tae hang onto when the dust settles.”
Sonya joined them. “Mari, that makes me very happy tae hear. Your support means everything. How can I help?”
“Well, for a start, you can be my intermediary with Anders.” Mari lowered her arms. “I didnae know that they’d gone beyond a flirtation.”
Sonya’s jaw clenched. “It doesnae matter now.”
“Just so you understand, Kirsten was struggling with her modeling career—her agent had told her that she was no longer relevant, at thirty-five.” Mari swirled her finger in the air. “It sent her into a tailspin.”
“When was this? How brutal!” Lydia said. “She was flawless—her agent is detestable.”
“Agreed. A month ago, give or take.” Mari dabbed the corner of her eye. “She wasnae used tae being turned down and thought she could pick up her career whenever she wanted tae—Gerard preferred that she didnae work at all, but she was restless.”
Paislee imagined how useless that might make someone feel, after being at the top of the heap to be set on a shelf and admired, but not needed.
“Mari,” Blaise asked hesitantly, “did you and Kirsten fix the cookie competition yesterday? Or at school?”
Mari’s softness disappeared in an instant. “You care aboot the competition right now? It is so not important. Really, Blaise. Your upbringing is showing.”
Blaise gasped.
“Hey!” Paislee said.
A buzzer sounded from the dais and the ladies whirled toward the blare. “And we have our final totals for the two-day event! Not including the ten percent from each vendor—oh, this is great—we have earned fifty-five thousand pounds for the Nairn Food Bank, and surrounding Highland towns!”
Paislee clapped, knowing that her percentage would add another two hundred pounds, at least, and if each table did as well, that might bring them past the sixty thousand mark.
“Kirsten would be thrilled. Her goal was fifty thousand,” Sonya said. She left them to join Anders on the dais.
The open-relationship couple clasped hands and lifted them in victory. “Thank you for helping us fight hunger!” Sonya said. “Now, please see me on your way through the front and I will officially check you oot from the event.”
Sonya stepped down and sat at a table near the door with a receipt book and a welcoming smile.
“She’s on her game,” Blaise remarked. “Rallying after an emotional blow. I dinnae know that I could do so well.”
Lydia shrugged. “Has tae be, tae make the club a success. I like her. Ask her if she knits, Paislee.”
“All right.” Paislee elbowed her friend that didn’t knit but never missed a Thursday night Knit and Sip. They had about six regulars but there was room for more.
Anders helped people stack up chairs and tables, his demeanor quieter and more subdued. Being punched in the face by your dead lover’s husband might do that to a man.
Paislee collected her few unsold caps, and counted her money for the two days. “Two thousand five hundred. Not bad for a weekend.” She couldn’t wait to share the news with James, who also lived for tourist season to see him through the winter months.
The trio walked toward Sonya’s table, the security guard by her side in case anybody got a bad idea to skip out without giving their due.
“I’ve got seven hundred from the cookies and tins,” Blaise said to Sonya. “I’m going tae donate it all.”
Lydia shouldered her bag. “I feel terrible aboot the laptop being stolen. Let us know how it works oot?”
“I’m going tae file a police report,” Sonya assured her. “It’s a valuable item and unique. Not everybody can get one, it’s that new.”
