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“ H old on.” Robert put a hand on Jesse’s forearm to get his attention. “The Gordon woman is headed in this direction.”

Jesse shoved the car into PARK and bit back his irritation. They’d just wasted the last hour “touring” this woman’s home, pretending to take photos for a book they were writing about castle homes in Scotland. By the time Mrs. Gordon, her white curls bouncing with every step, toddled herself down the drive, there was no telling how much more time they’d lose.

“Patience is a virtue,” Robert murmured under his breath, though whether his reminder was aimed at himself or his companion, Jesse wasn’t sure. He pasted a smile on his face all the same.

Peter’s research had left them with four possibilities of homes around Fleenasmore likely to fit the description of the one they sought. This was the second on their list.

They’d quickly ruled out the first when they learned a family with young children lived there. The mother had reluctantly offered to let them inside, but from her harried look and the screaming toddler in her arms, Jesse had felt certain it would be a waste of time.

They’d offered to come back later and the woman had seemed genuinely grateful not to have to be a gracious hostess at the moment.

Mrs. Gordon, on the other hand, was thrilled with the idea of having photos of her home appear in their book, in any book. Jesse had quickly realized their visit was the social highlight of the woman’s week. Week, hell. What was he thinking? More like the highlight of her year. She’d talked their ears off as she’d led them through the winding hallways of her home, her metal-tipped cane tapping in time to her halting steps, her yapping dust ball of a dog winding around everyone’s feet.

Robert rolled down his window as the elderly woman reached them.

“Oh, lads, I almost let you get away without the biscuits I promised. I know how young lads love the shortbread.” She chuckled as she handed over her napkin-wrapped bundle.

“You shouldn’t have troubled yerself, Mrs. Gordon, though we certainly do appreciate yer thoughtfulness.”

Jesse’s fake smile grudgingly turned into a real one as he watched his friend in action. Robert was always the model of proper behavior with women, whether they were eighteen or eighty.

“Will you be headed to the MacGuivers’ home next? Poor Lucy with all those babies, she’s run ragged, that’s a fact. You may want to come back inside and give her a ring first.”

Robert reached out the window and patted Mrs. Gordon’s hand. “Thank you, dear lady, but we’ve already been and set an appointment to go back at a better time. As you say, the lady has her hands full.”

“Do you have the Butlers on yer list?” She peered into the car as if she could actually see the list of which she spoke. “Geraldine will be thrilled to have you. We used to get together for tea once a week, but the poor dear has trouble getting out and about now. Company will make her ever so happy, though you may have to wait until her son gets home from work to lead you round through the house for yer photos. Young Arthur’s a special constable, you know. A busy man, he is.”

Jesse drew a mental line through their visit to the Butler home.

“And MacIntosh Hall?” Jesse leaned across toward the open window as he spoke. “Do you know the owners there very well?”

Mrs. Gordon’s lips tightened as he spoke. She leaned farther in, her eyes darting to each side as if she wanted to make sure no one else would hear what she had to say.

“I’d avoid that place if I were you. Oh, they’ve a lovely garden there, they do. But they dinna deserve to be in yer book. Not at all.” She shook her head for emphasis.

“Really?”

Robert’s one-word question was all it took to set the woman off again, her eyes sparkling with her excitement to share a little local gossip.

“The woman who owns the property is only there now and again, and a tyrant she is, too. Hateful to her staff—all locals, you know? Geraldine was telling me on the phone just before you came that her lad had been called out to MacIntosh Hall just last evening to accompany the neighborhood warden. They went to speak to that awful woman about reports of her security people openly carrying weapons on the property.” She shook her head, setting her white curls bobbing. “Imagine that. Security. Like she thinks she’s one of those stars on the telly or something. No. You’ll no want to be going there, I assure you.”

“Thanks again for all yer help, Mrs. Gordon. And for the tea and crackers,” Robert called out as they pulled away, turning a solemn face to Jesse. “We’ll be headed to MacIntosh Hall next, I assume?”

“That we will,” Jesse answered.

Mrs. Gordon might have wasted their time showing them every room in her great house, but he felt sure she’d set them on the right track at last.