Allegra Fairweather: Paranormal Investigator Page 12

  Before Stuart could answer, Malcolm returned with our drinks. After that there was nothing I could do to pry more information from him. I guess The Three M’s had had a pact not to speak about what they had seen.

  I sipped my beer and let their conversation wash over me. Who was the woman they had seen? And why was she running around naked? Could she and Justina be members of a coven? It was quite common for witches to dance naked at certain times. Maybe I was closer to solving this mystery than I’d thought.

  I felt a gentle touch on my arm. Looking down, I saw Mrs. Ferguson.

  “I’m off home,” she said.

  “Do you want me to walk with you?” I offered.

  She shook her head. “I’m just saying my goodbyes.” Standing on tiptoe she kissed my cheek. “It was nice to meet ye, Allegra. At my age ye dinnae experience many new things and I’ve never met a paranormal investigator before.”

  “There aren’t many of us around,” I said.

  She smiled. “Look after that nice laddie of yours. Casper’s a keeper.”

  “Casper isn’t my laddie.”

  Mrs. Ferguson’s smile grew wider. “Whatever.” The expression sounded odd coming from her lips. It made me smile.

  She said, “Ye have a pretty smile. Ye should use it more often.”

  “I’ll try to remember that, Mrs. Ferguson. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to walk you home?”

  “I’d rather be alone tonight.” She added, sounding disappointed, “Your smile has gone. Please dinnae be unhappy for me. I’m looking forward to seeing Edwin again.”

  “You really believe you’re going to pass over tonight?”

  She nodded. And her eyes sparkled with joy.

  But she was wrong.

  Someone else died that night.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was dreaming of a calorie-free box of chocolates when I felt someone shaking me awake. Nooooo. Refusing to open my eyes, I savored the sweet, chewy delight of a choc-coated nougat.

  “Allegra. Wake up,” said Douglas.

  “Go away,” I mumbled as I bit into a peppermint cream.

  “Allegra.” He shook harder. “Another body’s been found.”

  The chocolate dream vanished. I opened my eyes.

  “Who?”

  Douglas said, “It’s Malcolm Melville. He was found by the rose, just like McEwen.”

  “Who found him?”

  “Hamish.”

  “We have to get a photo of the body,” I said, jumping out of bed. I saw Douglas staring at my granny-nightie. I stared back. “What?”

  “Nothing.” A smile curled around his lips. I guess he had imagined my night attire differently.

  “Give me a minute to get dressed,” I said.

  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  When Douglas had gone, I whispered, “Casper.” No answer. I swept my eyes around the empty room. “Are you there?” Still no answer. Apparently the news of Malcolm’s death hadn’t reached Cloud 9 yet.

  Quickly I pulled on jeans and a sweater. After tying my bootlaces, I grabbed my jacket and went downstairs. Hamish was sitting in the kitchen, a cup cradled between his hands. He looked much the same as he had after discovering McEwen’s body.

  “What time did you find Malcolm’s body?” I asked him.

  “About an hour ago, I think.”

  “And what—?”

  “Allegra, we don’t have time for questions.” Douglas hovered near the door, camera in hand. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the kitchen. I could easily have twisted my arm out of his grasp but I allowed myself to be ushered outside to my car. He was right about time being short.

  On the way to the rose, I said, “It’s a bit of a coincidence, Hamish finding both bodies.”

  “Not really,” said Douglas. “He goes for a walk along the loch every morning. Has done for years.”

  So much for my theory that Hamish might know more than he was telling. I took out my frustration on the accelerator and we reached the track in double quick time.

  As we hurried toward the loch, I smelled the damp, muddy scent of the shore. There was another smell too, strong and unmistakable. Fish.

  With a sinking heart I continued down the track until I had a clear view of the rose. Just as I had expected, Malcolm’s body was no longer there.

  Squelching closer, I toed the pile of fish out of the way and examined the ground where Malcolm had apparently lain. There was no evidence of a body. Nothing to tie this place to Malcolm at all.

  I swore and stared at the dead fish. They had obviously come from the loch, but what did they mean? That a fisherman had killed Malcolm? That McEwen and Malcolm had violated someone’s fishing rights? But how did that tie in with the Dedfield Rose?

  I turned to Douglas. He was staring intently at the fish as though willpower might be enough to bring back Malcolm’s body.

  I said, “It’s okay. I can solve this case without a body.”

  Hoping I wouldn’t live to regret those words, I headed back to the car. Douglas got in beside me.

  We had almost reached the village when I said, more to myself than Douglas, “It’s time I took a closer look at the loch.”

  Douglas was eager to help. “One of the fishing boats could take you out.”

  “In a rowboat I’d be closer to the surface,” I said. “I think I’ll hire one from Jason.”

  “Right now?” asked Douglas.

  “Tonight would be better.”

  Immediately he looked worried. “It’s dangerous at night. Especially if you’re unfamiliar with the currents.”

  I didn’t argue with him. He was right about it being dangerous, although I didn’t think the currents would be my main problem. But I had no choice. I had to investigate anything that might be paranormal activity, and if that activity was happening at night and on the loch, so be it.

  “I won’t take unnecessary chances,” I promised as I parked outside Mac’s.

  He started to tell me I shouldn’t go out on the loch at all, but I wasn’t listening. There would be time to debate the pros and cons later. Right now my stomach was rumbling.

  It was way past time for breakfast. I can always eat, even after viewing the scene of a probable murder. As we made our way to the kitchen, I hoped Bess would prepare one of her hearty meals for us.

  My hopes were dashed when I saw Anne MacDuff sitting at the table beside Hamish. She was as pale as he was.

  Bess said, “Anne wants to talk to you.”

  I took Anne onto the terrace. I barely had time to sit down before she grabbed my hands.

  “You have to save Stuart,” she said. “I cannae live without him.”

  She couldn’t live without a man she had described as a good-for-nothing? I guess he must’ve been good for something because her eyes were brimming with tears at the thought of losing him. Love is a funny thing.

  “You’re not going to lose Stuart,” I said.

  “The other two are gone—Malcolm and Angus. Stuart will be next.”

  I remembered what Stuart had said to me last night after hearing the banshee: one of The Three M’s will be next. McEwen was dead, and now Malcolm too. Anne MacDuff might be right when she said her husband would be next.

  “Anne, I need your help.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me—something you might’ve seen or heard that would give some clue as to who was responsible for killing McEwen and Malcolm?”

  Slowly she shook her head. “I wish there was.”

  “You spent some time with The Three M’s, didn’t you?” When she nodded I went on, “Did any of them mention seeing a naked woman? In the wood, perhaps?”

  “McEwen saw Lady Justina in the wood.”

  “I know. I mean a different woman. She might have been someone from around here or she might have been a stranger.”

  “They never mentioned anyone.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Pos
itive.”

  Well it had been a long shot. If The Three M’s had seen a naked woman they probably wouldn’t have told Anne MacDuff.

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks for your help, Anne.”

  “Will Stuart be all right?” she asked.

  I couldn’t give her the assurance she needed but I could give her advice. “Right now it would be best if Stuart doesn’t go out alone.”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” She glanced down the grassy slope to the loch. I followed her gaze. Waves lapped the shore like hungry tongues. As I suppressed a shudder, she said, “I think there’s something in there. Like Loch Ness. Only this one’s evil.”

  The thought had crossed my mind too. But how did that tie in with a naked woman? Unless—unless a coven of witches was controlling something in the loch. But why would they do that? And why target The Three M’s? Had they seen something? A secret ritual that was forbidden to outsiders? Witches could get pretty strange about their secret rituals.

  I jumped when Anne put a hand on my arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Just lost in thought.”

  “I think I should get back home to Stuart,” she said.

  “Good idea.”

  She was hurrying up the street when I went inside. Douglas was in the bar checking the levels in the bottles of spirits. He saw me come in and stopped working.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said.

  “Go on.” I expected a question about the case but he surprised me.

  “Tonight, there’s a dance in the community hall. We thought of calling it off out of respect for McEwen and Malcolm but we decided they wouldn’t want that. The dance will be held in their honor, as a kind of memorial.” He paused before saying in a rush, “Would you go with me?”

  An invitation to go dancing with Douglas was the last thing I had expected. Oh sure I’d seen the flyer pinned to the notice board in Mac’s, but I hadn’t paid it much attention. Dancing isn’t really my thing. I said as much to Douglas.

  He accepted my refusal with more grace than some men I could mention. Then he asked me what I had been going to say to him.

  “I was going to ask whether you planned to report Malcolm’s death to the police,” I said.

  Douglas shrugged. “No body. No crime. We’ll have to wait a day or two then report him missing.” He leaned on the bar. “Allegra, are you any closer to solving this mystery?”

  “I’ve got a theory,” I said, trying to appear more confident than I felt. “Nothing I can prove yet, but I hope to have proof very soon.”

  “Does this theory have anything to do with your plan to take a boat out on the loch?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact it does.” If Douglas bought the fact that I actually had a theory rather than just a lot of half-baked ideas, it was all good.

  “Is that why you won’t come to the dance with me?” he asked. “Because you’re planning to go out on the loch to test your theory?”

  It wasn’t. But rather than explaining I didn’t want to go on a date with him, I took the easy option. “That’s right.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  That’s all I needed—a sidekick who had no idea of what he was up against. “No way. You are not coming with me. It might be dangerous.”

  “If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s bloody well too dangerous for you,” he said.

  But Douglas didn’t have a guardian angel looking out for him.

  “You can’t come, Douglas. It’s not that I don’t think you’re brave enough to face whatever might be out there, it’s just—” My brain stalled. I simply couldn’t think of a good reason for him not to come. Not unless I told him about my guardian angel, and I couldn’t do that.

  Douglas prompted me. “Go on.”

  There was only one way to get out of this. Lie.

  “I won’t go out on the loch tonight,” I said. “You’re right. It is too dangerous.”

  Douglas looked at me suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. You’re planning to go out while everyone is at the dance.”

  He was right. That’s exactly what I was planning. Bugger. Now I only had one option.

  Taking a deep breath, I said, “Okay, I’ll go with you to the dance.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. I was touched by his happiness, but it didn’t change what I had to do. Sometime during the dance I had to sneak out and go down to the loch alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  I didn’t dress up for the dance, but Douglas did. He wore a kilt with matching socks, a sporran and a frilly white shirt. What is it that makes a man in a kilt so appealing? Is it the sight of a muscular pair of legs? Or the possibility that he might not be wearing anything underneath?

  Douglas glanced at me curiously. “What’re you smiling at, Allegra?”

  “Nothing,” I said innocently. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was wondering whether his kilt would whirl up during the dance and reveal exactly what he had on underneath.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” As we walked to the community hall, I said, “I think I should warn you I’m not a very good dancer.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to judge you. We’re all here for fun.”

  I could hear the bagpipes long before we got to the hall. Bagpipes? Uh-oh, this was going to be a Scottish dance with Scottish dances. I should have realized that when I saw Douglas’s outfit, but I had been too busy wondering about his undergarments.

  “Douglas,” I said desperately, “I don’t know any Scottish dances.”

  “Dinnae worry,” he said with a confidence born of ignorance. “I’ll show you what to do.”

  Showing me was one thing, but whether I could do it was another matter entirely. I know this is lame but I was more apprehensive about walking into that dance than I was at the prospect of rowing out on the loch alone. Maybe it was because Casper wasn’t here to help me. But Douglas was and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  When I tried to avoid participating in the first dance, he said, “Try it. Just once. If you dinnae like it you can sit down.”

  Okay, so I’d dance one dance, Douglas would see I was crap, and then I’d prop up the bar for the rest of the night. Immediately I remembered I couldn’t afford to get drunk. I had to be sober for my excursion on the loch.

  Taking my hand Douglas led me onto the dance floor. We formed groups of six and began bowing and curtseying to one another. Good, I could manage a curtsey. I was feeling quite pleased with myself when the music began. Yikes.

  Luckily there was a guy with a microphone calling the steps so I had audio clues as well as the visual ones provided by the dancers around me. They were a nice bunch, smiling at my mistakes and pointing me in the right direction when I turned the wrong way.

  I lost count of the number of times I trod on Douglas’s toes but he didn’t seem to mind. By the end of the dance we were both out of breath and laughing. Who’d have thought Scottish dancing would be my thing?

  I danced until my feet ached. Then Douglas took me outside for a breath of cool air. At first it was pleasant being away from the heat and noise of the hall, but I soon realized that the cool air was really cold and I shivered.

  Douglas put his arm around me. I nestled against him. Was it the cold or that kilt that made me slip my arms around his neck? Even now I can’t be sure, but soon both his arms were around my waist and his lips were approaching mine at warp speed. I prepared myself for impact.

  The first time Douglas had made a move on me we’d been searching for McEwen’s body. Then, I had rejected his advances. This time would be different. There were stars overhead and the sounds of a waltz drifted romantically from the hall. This was going to be perfect.

  His lips were warm and full. They brushed mine, parted them, and then kissed me soft and deep. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing my lips and tongue until my knees went weak and I was desperate to have him ri
ght here right now.

  Well that’s what should have happened.

  That’s what most women would have felt in the arms of a man who kissed like a finalist for Best Kisser in the United Kingdom.

  But I felt nothing. Nothing! What was wrong with me? I kissed harder hoping that pretended enthusiasm would be transformed into the real thing. It wasn’t. I remained unenthusiastic, unhorny and utterly confused.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Douglas.

  “Nothing.”

  I grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him again. This time his hands began working their way beneath my clothes. Oh he was good, real good. I should have been panting for it by now. I should have been running my hands up his thighs to find out exactly what he had on under that kilt. Except that I wasn’t.

  What was wrong with me? Was I losing my sex drive? How could this happen?

  Douglas murmured against my mouth, “Let’s go back to Mac’s.”

  “No.” My voice was too hard, too definite. “What I mean is…this is going too fast. I’m in the middle of a case. The last thing I need is to become involved with the man who’s providing my bed and board.”

  I was rambling. Probably I should have stopped right after no, but I was so confused by my lack of response that I hardly knew what I was saying. A part of me hoped that if we tried this on another occasion, when I wasn’t preoccupied with the investigation, my response would be different. I could only hope. If I had stopped responding to handsome men at the ripe old age of twenty-five I might as well have fallen to my death at Wilson’s Creag.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on, Douglas,” I said, feeling guiltier by the second.

  “We dinnae get very far.” Douglas sounded disappointed. Very disappointed. “Why don’t we go back inside. I think we could both use a drink.”

  We didn’t dance much after that. I encouraged Douglas to dance with other partners and he seemed happy to oblige.

  It was almost midnight when I sneaked out of the hall and made my way to Furness Wharf. Earlier that day I had paid Jason to hire a rowing boat. It was tied up exactly where he’d said it would be. Bless him. I untied the boat and rowed toward the center of the loch.