Page 56 of Death at a Highland Wedding

“Somepeople,” Mrs. Rendall says firmly. “Most knew better.”

“But the note seems to blame Mr. Cranston for her death.”

“Mr. Cranston is… not a popular figure in town,” Dr. Rendall says carefully.

“We have heard that. In this case, he is responsible for bringing Mr. Müller—and letting Mr. Hall go—and so if Mr. Müller cursed Nora, her death would be Mr. Cranston’s fault.”

“I presume that is the thinking.”

I glance at Gray. While part of me wants to pursue this lead, Sinclair’s murder is not our investigation. Also, the Rendalls are already uncomfortable with the note. They’re worried that Ross will jump on it and blame one of the locals for murdering Sinclair. Which means I can’t ask whether they think it’s possible.

Isit possible? Suspicion and resentment have had time to fester. Someone might have decided to avenge Nora. Her father is the blacksmith. That means he’s going to be a guy with some muscles, one who could easily have cracked open Sinclair’s skull.

“Do you have anything more to add, Miss Mitchell?” Gray prompts.

I shake my head.

It should be a lively coach ride back to the estate. With the postmortem, the note, and the story behind the note, our brains should be percolatingand boiling over in a rush of words, Gray and me bouncing ideas off each other and zooming through all the implications.

Except this isn’t our case.

Oh, it’s never “our” case. It’s always McCreadie’s. Yet we happily gather information for him, knowing he’ll use it. With Ross, we can’t be sure of that. Hell, we can’t be sure he won’t discard evidence just becauseweuncovered it.

Finally, as we reach the long road into the estate grounds, I say, “I think it’s best if you speak to Ross directly, instead of giving him your findings through Hugh.”

“Yes.”

When I lapse into silence, he gives me a sidelong look. “You want to say more.”

“No, that’s it.”

“Mallory…” He tilts his head down to catch my eye. “You fear insulting me by advising me on how to best deal with Constable Ross. My manner can seem haughty, even imperious, to those inclined to see that in me. The perils of being partially raised by Annis.”

I have to laugh at that. “True. But in her case, she actuallyishaughty and imperious.”

“Perhapsyoushould speak to the constable?”

I shake my head. “He’s sensitive about anything he perceives as big-city folks looking down on villagers. He’d interpret it as you sending your assistant because he’s not worth your time.”

“You are suggesting I speak to him the way you speak to Addington. Behave as if I think he has the situation under control when I know he does not.”

“Addington buys it. I think Ross will, too.” I gaze out the window at the passing valleys. “I’d like to take a look at Archie’s collection of shillelaghs. Do you see any issues with that? I’d rather not set Ross on that trail until I’ve taken a look.”

“Because he might see a bit of blood on one and helpfully clean it with his handkerchief?”

I shudder. Then I lean toward the window. “Is that Hugh and Isla?”

Gray moves to look out. Two figures sit on a bench by the smallest lake.

“It does appear to be,” he says. “Shall we stop and speak to them?”

I give him a hard look. “Your sister is alone with Hugh, in a pretty and romantic setting, the two of them engrossed in private conversation. Are you seriously asking whether we should interrupt?”

“Er. Yes. I see. I will leave them to it.”

“You’d better,” I say with a glare.

His lips twitch. “I would say that you are wonderfully protective of your friends, but I cannot help but wonder, in this case, how much is protecting them and how much is indulging your hidden hope to see romance blossom.”