Page 64 of Death at a Highland Wedding

“But it’s good that he’s not here,” I say, “so they feel free to speak plainly.”

“True. But even then, the prevailing theory is that the killer only took a swing at the person they presumed to be Archie, reacting in anger, with no wish to kill him.”

“Except they took a swing at him with more than their fist, which implies real rage, whether the intent was to kill or not.” I move closer andlower my voice. “To that end, I have examined the shillelaghs. According to Mrs. Hall, none are missing. Unless she’s the killer and is just saying that.”

“But the number of them could be easily verified with Archie,” Gray says.

McCreadie raises a finger. “Unless Mrs. Hall knows one is missing and is covering for Archie, who will agree that yes, they are all accounted for.”

“Anyway…” I say. “They all seem to be there, and two fit as possible murder weapons. We’ll want to examine them for forensic evidence. I’ll let someone else ask Mrs. Hall.”

“Hugh can do that,” Gray says. “But he willinformher, not ask her.”

McCreadie shakes his head. “And here is why I should indeed be the one to speak to her. Because I know to phrase it as a question, even if it is not.”

“Also, you’re the nice one,” I say.

McCreadie sighs. “That will go on my grave, I fear. ‘Here lies Hugh McCreadie. The nice one.’”

“Not to aim that joke at poor Ezra but was hereallythe nice one?” I ask. “Is it possible he had a dark side?”

McCreadie bursts out laughing. “I fear not. Though it may have made him more interesting.” His face twists in a grimace. “That was unspeakably rude. And perhaps self-insulting, as I just admitted to being the nice one myself. But Ezra was best known as Archie Cranston’s friend.”

“As you have seen,” Gray says, “Archie casts a long shadow.”

“Which blotted out his friend,” I say. “Archie is loud, abrasive, and larger than life. He takes charge. Everyone notices him.”

“It happens,” McCreadie says.

Gray’s brows shoot up. “Why are you both looking at me?”

McCreadie pats his arm. “You are never loud.”

“I realize I can be difficult at times, but I do not think I am abrasive.”

“Fine-grit sandpaper,” I say. “Archie is coarse-grit.” I raise a hand against Gray’s protest. “Fine-grit smooths and polishes. Take it as a compliment. You are only as abrasive as you need to be.”

Gray grumbles under his breath.

“Back to the shillelaghs, I’m guessing you do want to examine them, Duncan?”

He turns a hard look on me. “You’re distracting me with science treats.”

“Now, now, no need to get abrasive.”

McCreadie lifts his hands. “I am removing myself from the line of fire and speaking to Mrs. Hall about the shillelaghs. I will meet you in the parlor, as we seem to have commandeered it for our police office.”

When he’s gone, I look at Gray. “Do you know where I could find Fiona?”

“I am not certain I can answer that without being abrasive.”

I smile up at him. “I like your abrasive bits. They are one of the many things that make you interesting.”

Spots of color touch his cheeks as he shakes his head. “You do that to disarm me.”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me.”