Page 22 of Death at a Highland Wedding (Rip Through Time #4)

TWENTY-TWO

We find McCreadie and tea in the same place—the largest of the sitting rooms, where everyone has gathered.

“I was about to get you,” McCreadie says. “Right after I picked the best cream pastries from this tray. Oh, I do believe Mrs. Hall wanted to speak to you. I could be mistaken, but you ought to go see.”

When Gray only shakes his head and sits down, Edith makes a little noise of affront, as if Gray is being incredibly rude.

“Mrs. Hall does not need to speak to him,” Isla explains. “Hugh is teasing him about missing out on the pastries.”

Edith makes another noise, this one clearly conveying that we all have a very odd sense of humor.

“You do not mind having tea before we talk, do you?” McCreadie says to me as he raises his cup. “Of course not. You will be in no rush to hear anything I might have to say.”

I peer at him. That mood suggests he found something.

“We have something, too,” I murmur as I lean toward him to take a pastry. “But I am certain you can also wait.”

A pause. Then McCreadie lifts his cup and pushes back his chair. “I do hate to be rude, but Duncan, Mallory, and I must take our leave. We have business to discuss.”

We take our tea and plates outside to a small wrought-iron patio table. It’s breezy, but private, and we tell McCreadie what we found with the shillelaghs. He’s relieved that we seem to have a murder weapon, but also points out the complications of it.

“How does this affect the possibility that the killer is not a guest or staff?” he asks.

I nibble at a petit four. “It depends. How easy would it be for someone else to get inside the house? Are the doors locked at night?”

“I do not—” McCreadie stops short. “No, that is a lie. I know the answer, from our interviews.”

“Ah, yes.” Gray looks at me. “Violet wants us to speak to Constable Ross and tell him to think it through. There is no logical reason for Archie to ever think someone walked in and stole his jacket.”

“Because the door is locked?” I venture.

McCreadie shakes his head. “Because the house is too remote for such a thing. No one is coming all the way from the village—risking being shot by Mr. Müller—to steal a coat. However, that did make Duncan ask about the doors. She says they are not locked, for the same reason.”

“Because the house is too remote, even if Archie is concerned about the villagers.”

“But he is not concerned about them,” McCreadie says. “Not truly. He is frustrated, and so he bellows and blusters.”

“He could try talking to them. The issues seem to have started with the previous owner, so Archie has the chance to resolve them.”

McCreadie shakes his head with a faint smile. “But bellowing and blustering is so much more fun.”

“Fun?” I say. “Or more befitting his persona? A man of action. A man of privilege. A man who does not negotiate with mere peasants.”

“Mmm.” McCreadie leans back, his face scrunching. “That is his persona, yes, but it is not truly him.”

Gray makes a small noise in his throat.

“Yes, Duncan, you and I disagree on that, but I know Archie better, and he has let me see that better side of him. You and Archie are like two alpha dogs, unwilling to cede territory, circling one another, growling and unable to see past those snarls and flashing fangs.”

“I do not snarl or flash my fangs at Archie, whatever the provocation.”

“ Whatever the provocation?” McCreadie says. “I remember you taking a swing at him.”

Gray sniffs. “Ancient history.”

“Only because you have barely exchanged a dozen words since we left school.”

I say, “I overheard Ezra saying something to Archie about learning a lesson about provoking you. What happened?”

“I threw a punch,” Gray says. “Not to strike him down but to challenge him to a fight.”

“And?”

“He walked away. As I said, he does not fight. Even if it meant suffering the shame of refusing.”

I have to choke back a laugh. That would be mean, laughing at the obvious frustration in Gray’s voice. But I’m beginning to get a deeper view of the dynamic between the two. Cranston insulting and needling while Gray takes the high road, because that’s not Gray’s style. Then Gray invoking his style with a challenge… and Cranston taking the high road and refusing.

Two alpha dogs indeed. Or more like a cat and a dog sharing the same turf, the cat endlessly provoking and toying with the dog, only to run away when the dog retaliated.

McCreadie looks at me. “Duncan will disagree, but I believe Archie will negotiate with the villagers. He will not want conflict once Fiona is mistress here, and he has realized that bringing in Müller made things significantly worse. Now he needs to find a way to step back without losing face.”

“Fire Müller. Rehire Mr. Hall. Come to some agreement for villagers using the land. I understand why he’d be stalling—he’s the new owner and can’t look weak. He also hired Müller on a six-month contract. But he’s also amassing enemies on both sides. The villagers don’t realize he’ll eventually back down, and Müller almost certainly realizes he’s on the way out. Which makes them all suspects.”

McCreadie tilts his head. “I agree that anyone could obtain the shillelagh. However, I consider it unlikely that a random villager would know where to find it. Also why choose that when so many weapons are at hand? No, if it was someone from the outside, it would be Müller. He would know about the shillelaghs and, if the police realized that was the weapon, he would seem an unlikely suspect. He is the gamekeeper. Would he not use a gun? A trap? Even a shovel?”

“I’d add Mr. Hall and his kids to that group. Same reason. They know the house and they have more obvious weapons. Also, we know the kids come and go. Seeing them here wouldn’t seem odd.”

“So the weapon being from the house only slightly reduces the list of likely suspects,” Gray says. “That is our news then. And you also found something, Hugh?”

McCreadie’s eyes widen. “What makes you think that?”

I glare at him. “You teased about it inside.”

“And it worked. You rose to the bait and told me the results of your examination of the shillelaghs.” When both Gray and I turn on him, he lifts his hands. “Now I am truly teasing. Yes, I have something. Like your clue, it does not solve the mystery—or exonerate Archie—but it does answer questions. We know Ezra was almost certainly killed by that shillelagh from Archie’s collection, and we also know, with equal near certainty, that the woman you saw out last night was slipping out to meet someone, that someone almost certainly being Ezra.”

I sit back in my chair. “You beat me to it. That is my theory as well—that the woman went to meet Ezra.”

Gray looks over. “Which you did not share with me?”

“Or Hugh, because it was just my brain thumbing through possibilities. Still, the main two reasons for a woman to be out would be kissing and killing.”

Gray’s brows shoot up. “I am not certain what that says about women. Or, more correctly, about your opinion of them.”

McCreadie makes a noise suspiciously close to a snicker. “Given that you were out with Duncan, Mallory, I must ask which of those two you had in mind.”

I shake my head. “I mean those are the most likely reasons for a woman to be out here last night. On an estate where we know there are traps. Either she was the killer or she was going to meet a lover. The most likely suspect for the role of lover would be Ezra, since it would explain why he was out as well.”

I turn to McCreadie. “So your clue? Who was it? Was she definitely going to meet Ezra?”

“And this is where my clue becomes, like yours, less than as helpful as one might hope.” He pushes back his chair and stretches his legs. “What I have is a maid who found a note in Ezra’s wastebasket. A partial note, discarded because of an inkblot. It was unaddressed, which is not surprising. When sending such notes, one cannot risk them falling into the wrong hands.”

“Have some experience, do you?”

Color touches his cheeks, but he goes on. “It was only the opening lines, in which Ezra asked the recipient to meet him at the bench by the smallest lake. He said he knew he should not send the letter, but he could not stop thinking about her. The maid found it in his room. She claims it was dropped near the wastebasket and so she dared not presume it was rubbish.”

“Giving her an excuse to read it.”

“Yes. When she realized it was of a personal nature, she burned it to protect Ezra, whom she seemed to have thought very highly of. A bit of an infatuation. Nothing new there, hmm, Duncan?”

When Gray doesn’t answer, McCreadie says, “Ezra was always very popular with the maids. It is his kindness they respond to.”

“So this one had an infatuation,” I say, “which wasn’t affected by the fact he was writing love notes to another?”

McCreadie smiles. “Heavens no. That only proved he had a tender and romantic heart, which is what all young ladies wish to see in the object of their infatuation.”

“Could she identify the handwriting?” I ask.

Gray frowns. He’s been quiet, but this catches his attention. Then he nods. “Ah. Yes. Because it could have been placed there by another.”

“I considered that,” McCreadie says. “And so I found samples of his writing, Archie’s, my own, and Duncan’s. We had all made notes on a plan of the wedding arrangements. Fiona and Violet’s writing was there as well. I asked the maid to choose the writing she saw. She chose Ezra’s.”

“Then the question is who he was seeing. There’s Edith, Violet, and, er…”

A smile touches McCreadie’s lips. “My sister, whom you do not wish to mention. My sister must be a suspect, however little I can imagine her doing this.” He tilts his head. “No, I can imagine her striking Ezra in the head if he attacked her, but since I cannot imagine him attacking anyone I would struggle to see my sister as the culprit. I would also struggle to see her slipping out for an assignation two days before her wedding. Some young women—and men—would consider that romantic. Fiona would not, however popular Ezra might have been with the ladies.”

“Not just the maids then?” I say.

“Not just the maids. I have never quite understood it myself.” McCreadie flushes slightly. “And that was rude. I only mean that he attracted what always seemed an inordinate amount of interest from young ladies. I suppose it is his kindness. Otherwise…”

“He’s otherwise middling,” I say.

McCreadie looks uncomfortable.

“That’s not an insult,” I say. “We’re trying to cast him in the role of secret lover, and so we need to dig deeper there. In your friend group, he was not the loudest, the handsomest, or the cleverest.” That would have been Cranston, McCreadie, and Gray, respectively. “But he was kind and considerate, and often times, women appreciate ‘middling.’ It’s less daunting.”

McCreadie considers. “Yes, I suppose I can see that, and I did not intend any insult to Ezra. I remember always wondering at the attention he garnered, and perhaps, when I was young, I envied it. When we envy a thing, we seek to declare the object of our envy unworthy. But yes, to circle back to the question, women find Ezra attractive, and he was always exceedingly discreet, even as a young man, so we can cast him in the potential role of secret lover here. While I cannot see Fiona as his partner, I know we must consider her.”

“Should we add the maids to that list?” Gray asks.

“Technically yes,” I say. “Though my sense on seeing the woman was that she was a guest. A maid would carry herself differently. What about Edith?”

McCreadie stares at me as Gray smothers a laugh.

“I… do not mean to be rude,” McCreadie says, “but I cannot imagine Edith inspiring that kind of romantic longing in anyone, even her husband.” At my sputtered laughter, he says, “All right. That was rude. But you know what I mean.”

“Poor Edith,” I say.

“Poor James,” Gray says, and McCreadie coughs on a laugh.

“All right,” McCreadie says. “If we are done being cruel to the Fryes, might I suggest we set this lead aside for now. We could re-question the ladies, but with such a delicate matter, I do not expect to get an answer. I would rather discover who was out last night and then confront her. For now, there is one more person I really must interview.”

“The prime suspect?” I say.

He glances at me.

I shrug. “Müller is a very good suspect. In trouble with Archie over the traps and almost certainly about to lose his job. Also, the village blames Archie for that little girl’s death because of something Müller did. Another reason to get rid of the gamekeeper, which means another reason for Müller to get rid of him .”

“Also, he seems a terrible person, which is your favorite sort of suspect?”

I smile. “It is.”