Page 19 of Death at a Highland Wedding (Rip Through Time #4)

NINETEEN

We are heading out with only Violet. She managed to steer Fiona back into the house, telling her she needed to be there in case McCreadie returned. I breathe a sigh of relief at that. Fiona is adorable, even in her fury… though I’m sure she’d hate me saying that. Her fury, though, also means she’s not the best person to calmly tell us what happened, and she’s not likely to stay silent while Violet explains.

Once Fiona is gone, Gray seems to realize where we are going and looks over at me in alarm. I shake my head, hoping he’ll correctly interpret that to mean I’m aware and will handle it. I’m not leading Violet to where Isla and McCreadie are sharing a private moment. I wouldn’t do that to any of them.

“Archie went without complaint?” Gray asks as we walk down the road toward the ponds.

“I do not believe my brother is capable of doing anything without complaint,” she says tartly. Then her voice drops. “Except agreeing to marry Fiona. That surprised me. I thought he would bluster and rage and refuse. He did not. He knew…”

Her fingers press into her skirt in a smoothing gesture. “It was necessary, and he did it, and it was the same here. In this case, he initially objected. As did I. Fiona objected most strenuously. Even Mrs. Hall came out to see what was the matter and told Constable Ross he was making a mistake. But Archie’s protests were the least strident. He calmed us and told us Hugh would set this straight and he would be fine.”

I certainly hope so, though I bite my tongue and let Gray continue the questions.

“Do we know why Constable Ross arrested him?” Gray asks.

“That is the worst of it,” Violet says. “At least if the constable had found some evidence that seemed to indicate Archie was responsible, I would understand why he felt the need to arrest him. The constable is young and new at his job, and in his enthusiasm, he could be forgiven for making a mistake.” She glances over at us. “It was the coat.”

“The…?” Gray says.

“The coat Ezra was wearing when he died.”

“Archie’s coat?”

“Exactly. That is the proof that Archie killed him.”

“I… do not understand.”

Violet gives a humorless laugh. “No one does. Except, apparently, Constable Ross. Oh, and Edith. Edith Frye is convinced he is correct. That woman does not have the sense God gave a gnat. No, that is wrong. She has a gnat’s full measure of sense, along with the cruelty of a jackal, always sniffing about, looking for trouble, delighted when she finds it.” Violet pauses, her cheeks flushing as she glances at me. “My apologies, Miss Mitchell. That was rude and petty. I am overly distraught.”

“You are understandably distraught,” I say. “As for Mrs. Frye, I suspect that comparison does a disservice to jackals.”

She covers her mouth against a snorting laugh. “Yes, I ought not to disparage jackals. Or gnats. As for the coat, Constable Ross says that is the cause of the murder. It is a very fine coat, you see.”

“It is,” I say.

“And being a fine coat, Archie would be furious at Ezra borrowing it. Driven to a blind rage, seeing his oldest and dearest friend out for a walk, dressed in his coat.”

“So his theory is that Mr. Cranston killed Mr. Sinclair for wearing his coat?”

“But of course.”

It takes me a moment to find words. Then I say, “I can understand that Constable Ross does not know Mr. Cranston, but even if anyone would murder a friend for borrowing a piece of clothing, what about the fact it was the middle of the night? Did Mr. Cranston wake with the dread feeling that his coat was not where it should be, thunder downstairs, find it missing, and storm out at night determined to apprehend the thief? And then happen to find him, on an estate of hundreds of acres? Realize it’s his best friend… and still kill him?”

Violet’s lips twitch. “Fiona is right, Miss Mitchell. You are a very fine detective in your own right.” She slows. “Did that sound superior of me?”

“It did not. As for being a fine detective, I’d like to think I’m growing into a decent one, but this is common sense.” I rein in my outrage and take a moment to consider it all. “Not to give Constable Ross too much credit, but I suppose, given that Mr. Sinclair was struck from the rear, he could argue that Mr. Cranston didn’t know who he was hitting.”

“Yes, I suppose we must allow that would not be as outrageous as killing his best friend over a borrowed coat. Constable Ross believes Archie wanted to go for a walk, found it missing, went out and saw a shadowy figure wearing his coat. Given Archie’s problems with the locals, he presumed it was one of them and, outraged, hit the man, intending only to injure him. To his horror, he discovered he had killed his best friend.”

She takes two more steps and then adds, “I will even credit Constable Ross’s imagination here. If the accused were not my brother, I would think it an excellent tragic tale.”

Gray says to me, “I understand that Archie may seem exactly the sort of man who would lose his temper and strike someone. But he is not.”

“Full of sound and fury,” I say.

“Signifying nothing?” Violet smiles over at me. “You know your Shakespeare.”

“I am disturbingly fond of Macbeth, as my father always said.”

That makes her laugh. “I have heard others say it is a warning about overly ambitious women, but I have always seen it as a warning about what happens to women who have no way to exercise their ambitions, except through their husbands. As for Archie, you are both correct. In the more colloquial sense, I would say he is all bark and no bite. He has no taste for physical violence, either in a fit of temper or as a bit of masculine fun.” She glances at Gray and smiles warmly. “Hugh once said you enjoy fisticuffs, and I thought that did not suit you at all. Likewise, I believe, an aversion to it does not suit my brother.”

“Yet he is averse to it,” Gray says. “He never engaged in schoolyard rough-and-tumble.”

I step over a fallen branch. “And while the theory seems plausible on the surface, I cannot imagine anyone finding their coat gone and presuming someone broke in and stole it. Any normal person would assume they’d either misplaced it or someone borrowed it. Also, this morning, Mr. Cranston said Mr. Sinclair was in the habit of borrowing his coat. That would be his first thought if he found it missing. I’ll need to tell Constable Ross about that.” I gaze out along the road and think. “Or, no, I actually shouldn’t or he might decide Mr. Cranston was establishing an alibi.”

“Yes, I would not give his imagination any more fodder,” Violet says. “However, Fiona and I have both heard Archie grumbling at Ezra for borrowing his coat. We can tell Constable Ross that… without the grumbling part. We can establish the borrowing as normal behavior, one that did not truly bother Archie.”

“There is also the matter of the coat itself,” Gray says. “It is very distinctive. I fear it was not a coincidence that Ezra was attacked while wearing it.”

Violet shivers. “You believe my brother was the target.”

“Which means the killer would not be Archie,” Gray says. “Archie realizes he was the likely target, which may explain why he did not protest too much about being taken into custody.”

“Because he’ll be safer there,” I say.

“Yes.”

I slow my steps. “Do you remember which lake we saw Hugh sitting at? I thought it was the largest one, but now I am second-guessing. There are several that look similar.”

I swear I hear Gray’s exhale of relief, as he realizes my plan for keeping Violet from stumbling on McCreadie and Isla.

“I thought it was the largest one, as well,” he says. “That is just to our left up here. Why don’t you and Violet take a look at that one, while I check the next?”

“Excellent idea.”

I lead Violet to the largest lake, which is definitely not the one where we saw McCreadie and Isla. Gray continues along at a brisk walk toward the correct one, about a quarter mile down.

Violet and I round the lake, being careful to stay on the path. We’ve come full circle when Gray and McCreadie appear by the road, Isla nowhere in sight. We join them, and as soon as we draw close, McCreadie’s grim expression says Gray has already filled him in.

McCreadie’s attention goes straight to Violet. “We will get this sorted.”

Her lower lip wobbles, but she pulls it in and straightens with a stiff nod.

“I am sorry, Violet,” he says softly. “I am truly sorry.”

Her gaze lifts to his and her knees wobble. He reaches out, and she falls against his shoulder and begins to cry.

We’re at the house now. Violet’s breakdown had been so brief that I wouldn’t even call it a breakdown. She allowed her composure to crack just long enough to show how she really felt about all this. Then she gathered it up again with red cheeks and murmured apologies, and insisted we return to the house before Fiona came looking for us.

When we get there, Isla is coming down the stairs, as if she’d been up there the whole time. She even has a book in her hand.

McCreadie ushers everyone into the largest of the sitting rooms. We all take seats and, for a moment, there’s an odd silence, as if we’re all waiting for something.

Waiting for Cranston, I realize. He might be loud and even obnoxious, but he’s the sort of person that others acknowledge as leader without realizing it.

Now we’ve settled, and everyone waits for their host to come rolling in and take over. McCreadie seems to realize that at the same time I do, and he rises, clearing his throat.

“We are all aware of what has happened,” he says. “First, let me assure you that the charges should not stand. There is a long way to go between arresting a fellow and convicting him of a crime, and whatever First Constable Ross’s position in the village, he should still concede to the higher authority of the law.”

There are two “should”s in that speech. I don’t know whether McCreadie has intentionally chosen that word, but I feel the full weight of it. He isn’t saying the charge will not stand or that Ross will bow to the authority of law.

Only Isla catches the nuance. Her lips tighten in worry. The others hear what they want to hear. Reassurances that all will be well.

“So how do we go about correcting this?” Fiona asks her brother. “Do you send a letter to the courts in Edinburgh, asking them to take over the case? Or to the police office, asking that you be allowed to replace Mr. Ross?”

“I have no jurisdiction here, and a higher court cannot intervene at this early stage. But we must remember that it is an early stage. While I could speak to First Constable Ross and try to convince him that his reasoning is unsound, I fear that might misfire.”

“Misfire?” Fiona says. “How?”

When McCreadie is slow to answer, I say, “Detective McCreadie already offered his assistance in the gentlest way possible, and Constable Ross took offense.”

“He is young and ambitious,” Gray says. “He wants to do this on his own, and I agree with both Hugh and Miss Mitchell. He could do more than refuse to listen.”

“He could dig in his heels,” Violet says. “Determined to prove he is correct.”

“So we give him another suspect,” Fiona says. “The actual killer.” She looks at her brother. “If Mr. Ross thinks he has his culprit, then you are free to discover who really murdered Ezra. I do not like the idea of Archie being kept in custody, though. Is that what they will do? Put him in the local prison?”

“I doubt there is a local prison,” McCreadie says. “I will need to find out where they are holding him.”

“I will handle that,” Fiona says firmly. “You need to solve the case. You and Duncan and Mallory and Isla.” She tries for a smile, but it’s strained. “That is what you do, is it not?”

McCreadie falls silent for a moment. Then he says, carefully, “Of course I will investigate, and that will be easier without First Constable Ross about. We will need to tread with caution, though. If he learns of it, that may be the thing that sets him more firmly on his course.”

“Then he shall not learn of it,” Fiona says. “He believes he has his man, and he gave no indication that he intended to return even to gather evidence. Violet and I will see to Archie. We will discover where he is being kept and protest against his incarceration, which will throw Mr. Ross off the trail.”

“Clever,” Violet murmurs. “With his suspect’s sister and fiancée wailing, he will believe we have all accepted Archie’s arrest as fait accompli.”

“And if he grows suspicious,” Fiona says, “I will wail and rail louder to distract him.”

McCreadie raises a hand. “As long as you do not distract him from continuing the investigation himself. It would be better for all if he did so and discovered the true culprit—or at least discovers that he is mistaken about Archie.”

“Unless he is not.”

Everyone follows that voice to the woman in the corner. Edith Frye. Beside her, James shifts in his seat and takes great interest in a mounted deer head.

“Well?” Edith says. “Are we all going to ignore the elephant in this room? The possibility—nay, the probability —that the young constable is correct?”

“And Archie murdered his best friend for borrowing his coat?” Fiona says. “Does that make sense to anyone?”

McCreadie clears his throat. “The theory, as I understand it, is that Archie did not know it was Ezra and did not intend to kill the thief. As Archie’s friend, I do not think that is what happened. As a criminal officer investigating a murder, I must consider all possibilities.”

“Fine,” Edith says. “You can consider it. We wish you all the best with this little mystery game, but we came for a wedding and the groom is in jail. So we will be going.” She rises. “Come, James. I will have our girl pack while you tell the groom to ready the horse.”

“That will not be possible,” McCreadie says.

Edith turns to him, her eyes narrowing. “What will not be possible?”

“Leaving. Or, perhaps I should say, I do not recommend it.”

She snorts. “I don’t give a fig what you recommend.”

“But you should because if I prove Archie did not do it, then Constable Ross needs to reopen the investigation, and he will discover that two people left the house in a terrible hurry.”

Edith stares at him. “Are you accusing me of killing Ezra?”

McCreadie gives the most casually elegant of shrugs. “I accuse no one without proof. However, I certainly will investigate you. As for First Constable Ross, I doubt he will consider you a viable suspect. James, though?” He turns to the other man. “There has always been friction between you and Ezra.”

“Wh-what?” Frye says.

“Friction. Jealousy. You look up to Archie. Always have. You took up with Edith after—” McCreadie clears his throat. “Yet despite your admiration, you could never wedge Ezra from his side. You invested heavily in Archie’s whisky company, proving your support and loyalty, and still he chose Ezra to be his best man.”

Frye’s mouth works. “That’s not—I—”

“Also, you argued with him last night. We all heard it.”

“That was business. ”

“I am not saying your actions are suspicious. Only that they may be seen as such to an outsider, such as Constable Ross. I would suggest you stay to show you have nothing to fear, but that is up to you.”

McCreadie turns to Violet. “On that note, I fear I must also ask you to keep your parents from joining us, if that is possible. I understand they may wish to support Archie, but more people in the house will only hamper the investigation. They will also have questions, understandably.”

Violet nods. “They will question the investigation, you mean. Your investigation specifically, given…” She swallows and straightens. “There will be friction that we can ill afford. I will not tell them that Archie has been arrested. That would bring them running. But after Ezra’s death, Archie postponed sending a coach for them. I will now send a letter telling them of that and saying they must stay a while longer.”

“Thank you. Fiona? Will you add a letter to our parents, please?” A twist of a smile. “Probably best coming from you.”

“Of course.”

“We shall begin with that, after which I will interview each of you, to properly construct the timeline. I apologize if you have already given that information to First Constable Ross.”

Fiona snorts. “We gave nothing to him, as he requested nothing from us. Yes, Violet and I will pen our letters, and then come speak to you when we are done.”