Page 10 of A Very Bookish Murder (Ally McKinley Mystery #3)
EIGHT
Magda and her husband, the Earl of Locharran – otherwise known as Hamish Sinclair – resided in the hilltop turreted castle above Ally’s malthouse.
Hamish, who owned almost everything in sight, including the village, was a tall, handsome septuagenarian with more than a passing resemblance to Sean Connery.
He had always longed for an heir, but that had never happened in either of his previous marriages, both of which had been unfortunately brief.
But it seemed to be third time lucky for him, and after many years as a bachelor, he now had a young wife who was heavily pregnant with twin boys, much to the delight of them both.
He and Magda seemed to be blissfully happy, and their heirs were soon to be born, much to the excitement of the village.
It was a little like the elusive buses – Hamish having longed for a legal heir for so many years and now there were two coming along at once!
Ally was none too sure that Hamish was aware of all the aspects of fatherhood, such as the prospect of sleepless nights and so forth.
Magda had flatly refused to hire any kind of nurse or nanny because she herself was hands-on when it came to babies, having once been a nanny to children whose parents lived all over the globe.
It would be Magda’s thirty-fifth birthday, and Ally was very fond of her.
Not only that, Ally had had many elaborate meals up in the castle, with or without Ross, and she now felt the need to reciprocate.
Since the malthouse was full of murder suspects coming and going, it didn’t seem like the ideal location for a celebratory meal, and Ally had had the brilliant idea of booking The Bistro for the occasion, which was conveniently located just down the road from the Craigmonie Hotel.
The owner, Linda, was English, had married a builder from Locharran and arrived in the village some fifteen years previously.
Unfortunately, Alastair had died a couple of years later, and Linda was left with the choice of returning south or using her considerable culinary talents to open a business.
Fortunately, she chose the latter and now The Bistro was a successful little enterprise.
Linda also made desserts for the Craigmonie Hotel, and this had led to her burgeoning relationship with Callum Dalrymple, the hotel manager.
‘Magda is enormous, and she won’t want to travel far,’ Ally had explained to Ross when she had suggested the idea. ‘And Linda will appreciate our custom.’
‘Oh God!’ Linda had exclaimed when Ally approached her. ‘What do I cook for them ?’
‘Listen,’ Ally said, ‘they eat ordinary, plain food most of the time. Honestly! Whatever you do will be a welcome change from Mrs Jamieson’s menu. She’s a good cook but somewhat conventional and not terribly adventurous, so whatever you do will be a treat.’
After Ally had booked the table, she’d phoned Hamish.
‘But we were going to invite you up here ,’ he’d protested.
‘No, no, give your ladies a rest. I’d normally have you both here at the malthouse, but, with a houseful of suspects, it would be much nicer at The Bistro. Our treat.’
‘We would be honoured,’ Hamish had replied. ‘Thank you very much.’
Ross insisted on driving Hamish and Magda down from the castle to The Bistro so that they could enjoy a drink – not that Magda was drinking anything stronger than Diet Coke at the moment.
Magda was enormous and, on arrival at the restaurant, she struggled to get herself and her bump anywhere near the table. Nevertheless, once she got there, she ate just about everything in sight, including a few leftovers on Hamish’s plate, explaining that she was eating for three.
Linda had done them proud with a choice of seafood or vegetable starters, beef or sea bass main course, and a selection of creamy desserts, and insisted on serving them personally, although she did employ a waitress, and explained the contents of each dish as it was served.
She finally sat down and joined them for coffee and liqueurs.
‘Do tell me about these women you have staying with you, Alison?’ Hamish said as he imbibed a generous measure of Drambuie.
‘Well,’ said Ally, ‘I get the impression that none of them were particularly keen on the victim, and, to be honest, I wasn’t too struck on her myself.’
‘She wasn’t nice?’ Magda asked as she popped two chocolate mints into her mouth.
‘She was rather overimpressed with herself,’ Ally said.
‘In what way?’ Linda asked.
‘I got the impression that she thought her writing was up there with Jilly Cooper and Jackie Collins, and, although I’ve enjoyed her books, she wasn’t in their league,’ Ally replied. ‘And when I sat in on their writing class on the day she was murdered, she was accused of plagiarism.’
‘Accused by whom?’ Hamish asked.
‘By an Irish woman called Della Moran, who’d only just joined the group, and who is now, of course, the main suspect.’
‘And is she the only suspect?’ Linda asked.
Ally considered for a moment. ‘No, there are a number of women suspects, although I can’t imagine what motives they might have had. Now that I come to think of it, Joyce, one of my ladies, said more or less the same thing as Della. She, too, reckoned Jodi had nicked one of her ideas.’
‘Hmm, interesting. Has the husband appeared yet?’ Hamish asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Ally replied, ‘yesterday evening. Bit of a hippy and living in his camper van?—’
‘On my land !’ interrupted Ross. ‘Scruffy bugger,’ he added, ‘but he’s paid the rent and says he’ll be staying until the funeral.’
‘So she’s going to be buried up here ?’ Hamish asked. ‘Why? It’s not as if she came from this area?’ He looked a little affronted, and Ally wondered if he thought he should have been asked for permission.
‘He said that Jodi wanted a funeral that made as little impact on the environment as possible, cardboard coffins and all that sort of thing,’ Ross replied.
‘He’s found a natural burial ground up near Brodale somewhere.
I had no idea there was one there, but I daresay people like him are into that sort of thing.
’ He shrugged. ‘He seemed keen to talk about it all for some reason.’
Ally shuddered. ‘There was definitely something a bit creepy about him.’
‘He told me he lives off-grid in the wilds of Wales, is completely self-sufficient and is not particularly thrilled at being up here. He didn’t strike me as being the grieving widower,’ Ross commented.
‘Me neither,’ agreed Ally. ‘Then again, I believe they parted company years ago.’
‘So who else do you have staying with you?’ Hamish asked.
‘A mousy little Englishwoman and a sexy little French lady,’ Ally replied with a grin. ‘And a very loud, aristocratic lady called Penelope Fortescue-Something from the Cotswolds.’
‘ Penelope !’ Hamish exclaimed. ‘Not Penelope Fortescue-Rawlins, perchance?’
‘That sounds like her,’ Ally said. ‘I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, and she mentioned that she knew you.’
Hamish leaned forward. ‘Penelope had a roaring affair with Lord Arthur Marsh some years back,’ he said gleefully, dabbing his lips with a napkin.
‘Then her husband, poor old Herbert, died in very mysterious circumstances, supposedly from an overdose. Penelope was accused of crushing tablets and putting them in his whisky. She was actually charged with murder but later released, due to lack of evidence. I’d say that Penelope would be perfectly capable of murder though. ’
Ally was quite shocked, particularly as Hamish was so cheerful about the whole thing.
She couldn’t believe that Penelope could have done something like that.
If, of course, she had done something like that.
‘I wonder if I should tell Amir about this?’ Ally realised that she’d unintentionally spoken out loud.
‘Who’s Amir?’ Magda asked.
‘Ally has fallen head over heels for the new detective,’ Ross said, nudging Ally with a grin.
‘I have not !’ Ally protested. ‘But he is very nice.’
‘Poor old Rigby had a cardiac arrest when he saw the body,’ said Ross. ‘But at least he’s survived.’
Hamish nodded. ‘Well, I hope the man makes a full recovery because, if he doesn’t come back, he’ll be missed.’
‘Oh, I’m not so sure!’ Ross exclaimed. ‘It didn’t strike me that he was that brilliant at doing his job.’
‘Now you mention it, I think I agree with you. It seems to me that our dear Alison has been doing most of the detective work in the past year or so.’
‘Oh, stop it – you’re embarrassing me,’ Ally said.
But she was already planning her next move: the board.