Hooked on Ewe (22 page)

“We’re just establishing everybody’s whereabouts,” I said, sounding lame, but unable to come up with a quick reason for asking that question.

“Good luck with that,” he told me. “Spectators as far as the eye could see. All comin’ and goin’. Most o’ us can’t even remember exactly where we were when or the order o’ things. I hate tae be the one tae throw a spanner in the works, but unless some deranged dodder gives a voluntary confession, as I said,” Oliver repeated, “good luck with that.”

I said good-bye to Oliver and was headed for Castle Street in Glenkillen when Sean Stevens rang me.

“The inspector and meself are on the way to Harry Taggart’s office. Harry gave us permission tae fish aboot there and at his residence besides, regarding the kit he claims tae have lost. So we didn’t need tae get a search warrant. We aren’t goin’ tae leave any stones unturned.”

“That makes sense. Harry lied about a sister. What would prevent him from lying about the location of the yarn kit?”

“Aye. Just tae be on the safe side o’ things.”

“Let me know how it goes.” In the meantime, my question to Oliver was still on my mind. “Do you know when Harry picked up his yarn kit?” I asked Sean.

“I’m the bloke who gave it tae him,” he said, then after thinking it over, “I was standing at the welcoming tent, and it was right after Lily Young tried tae get a kit from
Vicki. Yerself was talking to the inspector. Or maybe ye had walked off with him by then.”

I remembered the relief I’d felt when the inspector had whisked me away from the welcoming committee’s bossy dictator. “I don’t remember seeing Harry then,” I added.

“He came along and picked it up shortly thereafter.”

“Was he alone?”

“I think so . . . aye, he was . . . no wait . . . aye, he was alone, but then he walked up the lane with Oliver Wallace.”

So, Oliver
had
seen Harry with his kit. Although this new insight amounted to next to nothing. Anybody, anytime before approximately one thirty when Isla was last seen alive could have lifted the kit from Harry’s truck. Still . . . I should have pursued that line of questioning with Oliver while I had the opportunity. Perhaps he would have remembered something important.

We disconnected just in time for me to focus on a roundabout, pleased that entering them to the left instead of the right was becoming rote. I drove down Castle Street and nosed into the first available parking spot.

Here I was, back at my favorite writing cave and to my work as a romance author. But instead of looking forward to another trip into the make-believe world of Rosehearty, Scotland, I found myself firmly grounded in Glenkillen. I felt as though I had a lot of loose ends dangling regarding the murder I’d been investigating. The inspector was masterful at tying up loose ends, but they had made my head spin just keeping track of my own part in the investigation, let alone everyone else’s. Still, although the inspector had given me an honorable discharge, I wanted to reenlist.

Instead of getting out of the car with my laptop in hand,
I suddenly thought of something, and picked up my mobile to call Senga Hill.

I identified myself when she answered and asked how things were with her.

“The inspector has been a wee bit unyielding,” she told me. “He’s convinced I killed Isla Lindsey, but I didn’t!”

“I believe you, Senga,” I told her, though I wasn’t really sure I did. “But the best way for us to get him on the right track is for you to help me find out who did. Tell me, how did you manage to make two hundred cupcakes in that tiny kitchenette of yours?”

Senga’s tone lightened at the prospect of discussing her favorite topic. “Ah, truth is I dinnae make them here. Lily Young and meself baked them at her house. Dinnae I tell ye that before? I thought I had.”

She hadn’t, but did it matter? I wasn’t sure, but a private Q&A with Lily Young was long overdue. I’d ask Lily and see if it led anywhere.

“You told me you threw out that sleeping pill sample,” I asked next, “but it wasn’t in your trash.”

“Aye, and the inspector was right bothered by that fact, he was. And I still can’t believe that ye went through the rubbish!”

“Well, we both are concerned. Because I didn’t find it.”

“Tosh,” she said.

“Tosh?”

“Nonsense,” she explained. “And that’s exactly what I said tae the inspector. Tosh! I threw it in there meself. Ye can ask Lily aboot that as well.”

“Lily?”

“I just now remembered that I have somebody tae vouch
fer me. I think I’m losing my mind because o’ all this turmoil. But there it is. Lily Young.”

“Go on.”

“She dropped me off after baking the cupcakes, and we were standing there blatherin’ away. I was diggin’ in my purse fer my house keys and that sample was right in front o’ me, so I asked her if she wanted tae try them. She said no, so I tossed them in the rubbish.”

Hunh! That was interesting. It would have been simple to pick them out from the top of the heap.

If only Senga had thought to mention this before I went Dumpster diving. It might have saved me some time. Or maybe not. I might not have connected the same series of dots that early in the investigation.

I thanked Senga and disconnected, feeling my heart beating to a faster rhythm.

My first impulse was to rush over to Lily Young’s house and start grilling her, but I didn’t have a clue (or a Scooby) where she lived. Senga Hill had been on my persons-of-interest list from early on. So had Harry Taggart, although both the inspector and I had decided that he was most likely innocent. But there was that little bit of doubt nipping at the back of my mind, telling me not to discount anybody quite yet. I had to assume that Lily Young could be as guilty as the others. What was one more suspect!

The inspector must have sensed something, too, because he was following up on Harry’s kit right now.

Intuition kept tapping on my brain, shouting that I needed to continue to give the most attention to the inner circle, especially to my fellow welcoming committee members.

That included Oliver Wallace. His van had been the
crime scene. He was still on the list of suspects, although I didn’t have any idea of a motive for him.

So was Andrea. Isla hadn’t treated her brother well, and his sister had actively campaigned to split them up. Maybe she’d decided to improve the quality of his life in her own way.

Now there was Lily. She’d been publically vocal about her dislike for the dead woman. She’d spread infidelity rumors about her, whether true or false was still unclear, and she’d had access to those cupcakes at the source. Lily could even have made extras. And Senga said Lily had been right there at the moment Senga threw away sleeping pills that were the same kind used to incapacitate Isla.

I tapped lightly on the steering wheel, staring at the pub, deep in thought.

As I was about to call Inspector Jamieson to get Lily’s address, I spotted the very woman I was seeking. Lily was entering the Kilt & Thistle. The thrill of the latest development almost caused me to burst into the pub and have at it. I talked myself down. Chances were slim to none that Lily would tell me what I wanted to know if I went at her the way I had with Kirstine. I’d have to figure out how to approach her just right.

Since Lily was vying for top of my suspect list at the moment (a position that changed with the wind, it seemed), instead of barging in, I entered quietly to see what she was up to. In all the times I’d written inside the pub, she hadn’t been a regular customer. Other than special occasions, she didn’t frequent the Kilt & Thistle, so why was she here today?

Lily wasn’t in sight when I entered. I saw Dale squatting down behind the counter, shuffling through bottles on a
lower shelf. It was midafternoon and the pub was nearly empty in the post-lunch, pre-happy-hour transition. A few patrons were talking quietly at tables. No one seemed to notice my entrance. Even Bill wasn’t at his regular table. I slunk through the pub, peeking into one dark corner after another.

And finally found Lily standing beside my own favorite writing table, tucked as far out of the way as possible. Andrea Lindsey rose to greet her as I ducked out of sight, into a spot out of view but within hearing range.

“You shouldn’t have brought Oliver intae this,” I heard Andrea say. She sounded irritated. “That wasn’t well thought out.”

“I went off me head,” Lily said with a bit of a whine. “I don’t know what came over me. You didn’t tell, did ye?”

“Eden Elliott came by my house and collected my kit.” Andrea’s tone was frosty. “And she wants a name.” Were they discussing Isla and the mystery man? Was that person Oliver? I couldn’t see those two together—she’d obviously annoyed him with her sniping, and he’d annoyed her right back. Had it all really been just a clever cover?

“Thank ye fer not telling her,” Lily said. “It was all a big misunderstanding. I didn’t see what I thought I saw and shouldn’t have said a word tae ye.”

“You sounded certain on Friday.”

“No, no, ye have tae believe me.”

“Oliver isn’t interested in you, Lily. Quit covering fer him. Ye better call up the new constable and tell her about the mess ye made.”

It felt strange hearing my name bandied back and forth without them knowing that I was within earshot. I had an
epiphany of sorts, one that should have been obvious from the beginning. The welcoming committee had worked closely together. All but me, that is. I’d ducked out of my responsibilities as often as possible, giving Isla a wider berth than the others had. So it stood to reason that Oliver, Lily, and Andrea would get together after Isla’s death and try to figure out who did it.

I could imagine their conversations perhaps getting heated at times, somebody saying something, someone else misunderstanding, taking some offhanded comment as an accusation. Tempers flaring. Fingers pointing.

Good! Let their emotions and suspicions rule them.

“Why shouldn’t I go directly tae the inspector?” I heard Lily say. “Instead o’ tae her?”

“Whatever suits ye best, but he’s suspicious o’ everybody. Ye might have better reception from Eden Elliott. She’ll mebbe go easier on ye.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Ye better call up the MacBride farm and inquire as tae the new constable’s contact information.”

“I have her number, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then why did ye ask fer my opinion?”

Just then, my cell phone rang, and I fumbled to silence it, annoyed with myself for not thinking of that earlier. I was sure the two women now were aware that someone was close by. I managed to stop the ringing, but Lily and Andrea’s voices dropped to a whisper, well below eavesdropping range. I hustled outside to return the call, which had been from Jamieson.

“No sign o’ that kit,” the inspector said when he answered. “As expected. How’s the writing going?”

“It’s not. I have a few ends to tie up first.”

There wasn’t time to brief him on my conversation with Senga or tell him about the bits and pieces I’d just heard. So I said, “I’m just about to sit down with Lily Young and see what develops.”

“It gets in yer blood, this work does,” he said. “Those loose ends are hard tae tie up.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Kirstine Derry hasn’t fully recovered from yer questioning,” he pointed out. “There’s a bit o’ excitement in yer tone that reminds me o’ that particularly tense situation. I expect no fisticuffs with this witness.”

“Very funny.”

He chuckled and disconnected.

Andrea passed me on my way back in, and we exchanged polite greetings. She continued on without any outward sign that I’d been a recent topic of conversation. My phone rang again. This time it was Lily on the other end, asking me to meet with her at the pub.

I agreed, mentioning that I was close by and could be there shortly.

“You wanted to speak with me?” I said when I slipped into a chair beside her a few minutes later.

“I need tae clear the air,” she said, “about something I told Andrea Lindsey.”

While I listened quietly, Lily told me her story, one that I couldn’t help thinking might very well be as fictitious as the romance of
Falling for You
.

“Ye see, I was out at the harbor on Thursday, taking a stroll in the nice weather we’d been enjoyin’, and I thought
I saw Isla Lindsey going out fer a boat ride with Oliver Wallace. I was a distance away, mind ye, so I wasn’t completely certain it was herself.” She paused and a blush rose on her cheeks. “I fancy him, if the truth be told.”

That had been obvious, but I didn’t want to embarrass her any further by pointing it out.

“I tried tae wait fer them tae come back, so I could make sure it really was the two o’ them, but I hadn’t made provisions fer that much sun, and it finally got the better o’ me.”

So that explained Lily’s sunburn. She’d been on a stakeout at the harbor. “You had to give up the wait.”

“Aye, but the idea of Oliver and Isla started festering inside me, and so I told Andrea, expecting that she’d tell Bryan. I wanted to make trouble fer Isla. It was a spiteful thing tae do, I admit it. After that, I began tae wonder. Had that been them after all? They’d been a good distance away. The more I tossed it aboot in my mind, the more I realized I’d been a bit hasty and perhaps I’d been mistaken. I decided tae ask Oliver.”

“And what did he say?”

“That my head musta been full o’ mince tae think a thing like that.”

“Did he say who he’d been with?”

“A lady friend, is all, which dinnae make me any happier. So I had tae correct what I’d done by explaining tae Andrea what a dolt I’d been. Ye can ask Oliver. He’ll vouch fer the fact that we spoke on the subject.”