Page 15 of A Very Bookish Murder (Ally McKinley Mystery #3)

TWELVE

Everyone walked up to the castle. The Scottish saltire had been erected on the flagpole solely in their honour, although Ally wasn’t sure that they were aware of that.

The path to the Italian garden wound around the western side of the castle, and on the nearby lawn, a spectacular buffet had been set up on a long table draped in white tablecloths.

There was seafood galore, crab, shrimps, prawns, salmon, trout, plus quiches, pies and all manner of salads, plus several bottles of wine chilling in an ice bucket.

The women gasped.

‘Good old Hamish!’ Ross exclaimed to Ally. ‘Trust him to do it in style.’

‘I should think poor Mrs Jamieson and Mrs Fraser have been busy for hours,’ Ally added.

‘My God!’ exclaimed Joyce. ‘Whatever happened to squashed sandwiches and Thermos flasks of tea?’

‘And bottles of lukewarm lemonade,’ added Millie, stroking a bottle of chilled white wine. ‘This isn’t a picnic – it’s a banquet.’

Ally laughed. ‘They like to do things properly up here.’

As the women oohed and aahed round the table, Hamish made an appearance, looking very jaunty in his white shirt and green tartan kilt.

‘Welcome, ladies!’ he called. ‘Please do help yourselves to whatever you fancy and sit down in the sunshine, while it lasts.’

A couple of the women had brought towels to sit on, but these were made completely redundant because there were little tables and chairs all over the lawn.

‘This is so lovely!’ Brigitte exclaimed, while her husband headed straight for the wine.

‘Well, Hamish,’ shouted Penelope. ‘Long time no see!’

‘Dear girl,’ Hamish replied. ‘How are you?’

‘All the better for seeing you, you old goat!’ Penelope replied. ‘What’s all this about you getting married?’

As if on cue, Magda waddled out from the door behind, and Hamish put his arm round her and kissed her fondly. ‘This is what’s happened to me, Pen. Meet Magda, my lovely wife.’ He pointed at Magda’s belly. ‘My two sons are in there.’

Everyone had stopped staring at the buffet and were now staring at Magda.

Magda smiled and said, ‘I hope you won’t mind if I don’t join you, but I can’t really take the heat at this stage in my pregnancy.’ She gave a little wave and retreated indoors.

A moment later, Hamish and Penelope were deep in conversation, and the other women surrounded Ally and Ross, remarking on what a handsome old man he was, and how had he managed to get himself such a lovely young wife?

‘That’s a very long story,’ Ally replied, laughing, ‘which I’m not prepared to go into. Come on, girls – let’s eat.’

Plates were loaded, glasses filled, and everyone sat down at one of the tables to enjoy the food. Ally sat down with the two from the Craigmonie, while Ross regaled the other four with the story of his coming up to Locharran forty years ago from Glasgow, shortly after he’d qualified as a vet.

‘My God,’ said Morwenna, ‘Laura was a fool to miss out on this.’

‘Well, she’s an oddball,’ Della said, shelling a shrimp. She’d finally decided to stay.

‘Never joins in much,’ added Morwenna. ‘Wait until we tell her about today.’

‘Don’t know what she gets up to,’ Della went on. ‘Seems to resent everyone and everything. Then again, she’s probably convinced herself I’m a killer, so maybe she wants to give me a wide berth.’

Ally studied Della through her sunglasses, convincing herself that – for no good reason whatsoever – she didn’t think that Della was a killer. But would a jury think that if it came to a trial?

Looking at Morwenna, she couldn’t really see her as a killer either. I’m getting soft , Ally thought, because one of these seven has got to be the damned culprit. It’s becoming more and more likely it’s Laura, isn’t it?

Hamish left Penelope loading up her plate and turned his attention to his other guests, asking them their names and where they came from, laying on the charm. Despite being a happily married man, he was still, predictably, drawn first to Brigitte and, a little later, to Della.

Mrs Fraser, the earl’s housekeeper, was now placing bowls of fruit and desserts on the table, and telling everyone that the ice cream was available just inside the door where it was cooler.

There followed a further stampede towards the buffet, where some had seconds and others attacked the desserts.

‘You’ve done us proud, Hamish,’ Ally said when she finally got him on his own. ‘Now, have you decided which one of these ladies could be the killer?’

‘Oh,’ said Hamish quite matter-of-factly, ‘that’ll be Penelope. She said she couldn’t stand the Jones woman, and neither could the others.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Which brings me to the obvious question – why did they all come to Locharran?’

‘Apart from the fact they were attending a literary retreat, do you mean?’ asked Ally.

Hamish stroked his beard. ‘Perhaps they all came here to kill her, but Penelope beat them to it! Got there first, eh? She’s a bloody strong woman, you know. I’ve watched her roping horses, hunting and all that. I should think she could strangle anyone in a couple of minutes flat!’

Ally could hear the admiration in his voice, which was hardly appropriate if Penelope was the killer. And if Penelope was as strong as Hamish made out, then she could most certainly have strangled Jodi.

Everyone lingered on the lawn in the sunshine. After a short time, Hamish asked to be excused, told them all to stay on as long as they liked, said they were welcome to have a look at the Great Hall and thanked them for coming.

‘He’s thanking us !’ Brigitte said in amazement. ‘ What a gentleman.’

George, her husband, was taking photos of everything in sight. ‘I’ve been to a few chateaux in my time,’ he said, eyeing his wife, ‘but this is my first experience of a Scottish castle bathed in sunshine !’

‘A rare sight this early in the year,’ Ross agreed, smiling. ‘Follow me if you want to see the Great Hall.’

There were shouts of assent all round, and everyone followed him round to the main door and into the enormous stone-walled, stone-floored Great Hall, watched only by the sightless eyes of the dozens of stags’ heads mounted every few feet from each other in the upper walls.

Phones and cameras buzzed and bleeped before Ross ushered them all out.

As they returned to the picnic site, Joyce said, ‘We can’t possibly leave everything like this!’ She was looking in dismay at the cluttered tables.

‘Yes, you can,’ Ally said. ‘It won’t be the earl or Magda who’ll be washing these dishes.’ At that moment Mrs Fraser, along with Mrs Jamieson, appeared to clear up. ‘These two will have it tidy in no time.’

The two in question were already piling plates onto trays, Mrs Fraser saying, ‘Ye’ll only get in the way. Off with ye.’

As they wandered back down to the malthouse, Brigitte said, ‘Well, it’s for sure we aren’t going to want any dinner tonight!’

‘You’re all very welcome to sit in the garden,’ Ally said, ‘although I must apologise that I haven’t got round to doing much weeding lately.’ It was half past six, but the sun was still warm.

As they entered through the gate, Joyce approached Ally. She looked around warily before she spoke. ‘I’ve been wanting to have a quiet word with you all day but I haven’t had the chance before. I think I know who killed Jodi Jones,’ she said in little more than a whisper.

‘Really? What makes you think that?’ Ally asked.

‘Something I found out this morning. I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m talking to you now. I’ll come down a bit earlier in the morning, after I’ve slept on it. But I’m pretty confident that I’m right.’

‘Oh, Joyce!’ Ally exclaimed. ‘Can’t you tell me now ?’

Joyce shook her head and held a forefinger over her pursed lips. ‘In the morning,’ she repeated before rushing out to join the others in the garden.

Ally was deep in thought as she brought out cushions from the summerhouse and scattered them over the garden furniture.

They’d had a long, winter hibernation, and she had to knock the cobwebs off first. She noticed that her guests had eagerly partaken of the earl’s wine and were now looking decidedly sleepy.

As she returned to the house, Ally saw a woman walking up the drive and, as she neared, she recognised Laura.

‘Oh, hello,’ Ally greeted her. ‘I’m afraid the picnic’s over.’ Ally knew now where Laura had most likely been but did not want to give her any indication of that.

Laura gave a brief smile. ‘I just wondered where everyone was.’

‘They’re all stretched out in the garden, so why don’t you join them? Have you had a nice afternoon?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Laura replied politely before disappearing through the gate into the garden.

Ally shrugged as she re-entered the kitchen.

‘Strange woman, that Laura,’ she remarked later that evening to Ross. ‘She doesn’t say much, doesn’t participate much, so it can only be Owen that’s brought her up here. Wonder why she’s suddenly shown up?’

‘Come to kill again, I expect,’ Ross said with a wicked grin.

‘Be serious, Ross!’ Ally thought for a moment. ‘The earl is convinced it’s Penelope and doesn’t seem particularly horrified at the prospect. They greeted each other like old friends, which I suppose they are.’

‘These aristos will always stick together,’ Ross remarked. ‘For my money, I thought that the Frenchwoman’s husband was a little strange at times.’

‘George?’

‘Yes, George. What’s he doing here anyway? I don’t see any of the other husbands appearing.’

‘I’m not altogether sure that the others have husbands,’ Ally said thoughtfully. ‘At least, not husbands that they’re living with. So what was it about George that you thought to be strange?’

‘He just looks a bit shifty sometimes, that’s all. He was going on and on about how rubbishy Jodi Jones’s books were, and how he could never bring himself to publish “that sort of thing”.’

‘But he hadn’t arrived when Jodi was killed,’ Ally pointed out.

‘As far as you know,’ said Ross, narrowing his eyes.

Ally giggled. ‘Are you trying to tell me that he just walked into the Craigmonie, made his way to the ladies’ cloakroom at the exact moment that Jodi was there, strangled her and walked out again, without ever bumping into any of the women who were having a pee or powdering their noses?’

‘One of them was his wife, Brigitte,’ Ross remarked. ‘She could have been in on the act. In fact, she could be the killer.’

‘I’ll tell you something interesting,’ Ally said.

‘When we all got back from the castle, Joyce took me aside and told me she was pretty certain she knew who’d done it.

She said she’d come down early in the morning to tell me, after she’d “slept on it”, and she didn’t want to be seen talking to me now. ’

‘Well, Ally, she could be trying to put you off the scent if it was herself. Who does she share a room with?’ Ross asked.

‘Millie, the little stocky one.’

‘You’ve got to look out for little mousy ones! Appearances can be deceptive.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Ally admitted. ‘I saw her swimming in Loch Soular and had no idea she was such a powerful swimmer.’

‘There you are then,’ said Ross.

‘Then, of course, there’s Laura, my main suspect. The one who’s having it off with Owen Jones and who suddenly appeared in the garden when everyone got back. What was that all about?’

Ross shook his head. ‘Seems strange. What about Della?’

‘She was the main suspect,’ Ally reminded him.

‘And then there’s the Cornish one…’

‘That’s Morwenna, who’s actually Welsh by birth.

Her husband and Jodi had an affair years ago, but I think she was quite pleased to be rid of him.

’ Ally looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock and I imagine they’re all inside now, so I’ll go and put the cushions away in case it rains overnight. ’

Ross stood up. ‘Let me help you.’

A couple of the roses, which had been in bud this morning, had now exploded out in all their beauty, one pink and one yellow, filling the air with their scent.

‘Ooh, that perfume!’ Ally said, sniffing the pink one. She looked around the garden and was about to pick up the first mattress when she was astonished to see Joyce fast asleep on one of the loungers underneath a rowan tree. ‘Would you look at her !’ she exclaimed.

‘She looks very comfortable,’ Ross agreed.

‘She can’t stay there all night,’ Ally said, ‘so I’m going to have to wake her up.’

She crossed the lawn to where Joyce was lying. ‘Joyce?’ she said quietly. Then, ‘Hey, Joyce,’ more loudly.

There was no response.

‘A deep sleeper obviously,’ Ross said, bending down and shouting, ‘Wakey, wakey.’

There was still no response nor a glimmer of any reaction.

Ally was becoming concerned. ‘Do you suppose she’s all right?’

‘Maybe her hearing’s not good,’ Ross said, looking a little worried too. ‘Let’s give her a shake.’ He began to shake her gently, then more strongly.

They exchanged glances.

‘I don’t think this is normal,’ Ally said. ‘She should have woken up by now, for goodness’ sake.’

Ross gently lifted one of her eyelids. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, ‘I think she’s in a coma. We need an ambulance, Ally!’