Page 54 of Death at a Highland Wedding
He continues, “I made that mistake. I told myself that as long as I was not hurting anyone, then what I did was my own business, and I shouldn’t need to hide it. I was young and naive, and I nearly paid the price with my life. I’m not saying it’s the same for you. But Iamconcerned. For your sake. There’s the world within our town house, and there’s the real world, and we can do as we like inside those walls, but we cannotstayinside them.”
I still say nothing. I can’t, because I know he has a point, and my only argument is that it’s a moot one. And if a little voice in my head whispersWhat if it wasn’t?I shove it back into silence.
My feelings for Gray don’t matter because they aren’t reciprocated, and I’m okay with that.
Okay with that? Or relieved, because if they were reciprocated, I don’t even know how I’d deal with that. I’m his employee, and if we ever tried moving beyond friendship and it didn’t work out, I could lose everything. My home, my job, my friends.
My heart picks up speed, something almost like panic rising.
Almostlike panic? No, that’s actual panic.
Simon continues, “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Mallory, and I don’t want Dr. Gray to be the one to hurt you. Because he would not mean to. It’s easy to jump in with both feet and tell yourselves you’ll figure it out later but…”
“I know,” I say. “Nothing is happening. Nothing will happen. I appreciate the concern.” I look up at him. “I truly do. But it is misplaced.”
“I hope so,” he murmurs. Then his head jerks up and he straightens, calling, “Dr. Gray.”
Gray is approaching slowly, watching for any signal that we aren’t finished with our conversation. Then he says, “I think you need to come inside, Mallory. I have asked the Rendalls about the note, and they have said something you need to hear.”
EIGHTEEN
We find the Rendalls in their living room, both looking pale and worried. Seeing that, I slow and glance at Gray. He strides in as if not detecting their unease. Probably because he actually doesn’t detect it. Gray always says I’m better at reading people. It’s not that he lacks empathy; he just doesn’t pick up on body language and emotional cues as well as I do. His gift is for reading and interpreting evidence.
I take a seat. “Dr. Gray has shown you the note.”
Dr. Rendall nods. His wife only grips her hands tighter in her lap.
“I am sorry if it has caused you distress,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gray blink. Then distress flickers over his own features. Yes, he didn’t notice it, and that bothers him.
“My apologies,” Gray says in a low voice. “I did not intend to upset you.”
Mrs. Rendall manages a weak smile. “We are not upset. Just…” Her gaze goes to me. “As Miss Mitchell said, we are somewhat distressed by that note. Of course you had to bring it to us, and of course we had to tell you what it means. We do not believe that is connected to poor Mr. Sinclair’s death, but now that the note has been given to you, you must give it to Petey—Constable Ross—and we…”
Her husband completes the unfinished thought. “We fear he lacks the expertise to properly handle such a thing.”
“That he might take the note as evidence,” I say, “when it does not accuseanyone of killing Mr. Sinclair. It only says that the victim—presumably Mr. Cranston—deserved his fate.”
“Exactly so,” Mrs. Rendall says. “Constable Ross is out of his depth, and we have known him from the hour he first drew breath—I was there as midwife. There are children who are quick to admit they do not know a thing, in hopes of learning it. And there are children who see that as an admission of failure.”
“It is admirable to want to solve problems yourself, rather than relying on others, but there are times for self-led education and times when… it is not the best course of action.”
Mrs. Rendall laughs softly. “That is a very diplomatic way of putting it.”
“In this situation, while Constable Ross may not wish the assistance of others, I can assure you that those others are present to oversee his work. We mentioned that we are here with a criminal officer who has conducted several homicide investigations. He will respect Constable Ross’s jurisdiction in this case, but he will not allow a miscarriage of justice.”
There’s a moment of silence, and I replay what I said, wondering if I messed up with some anachronistic phrase or concept. Nope, I just started talking like a cop again.
“Very well said,” Mrs. Rendall murmurs after a moment. “Thank you. We are fond of Pet—Constable Ross—and we believe he will one day make an excellent first constable, but we do appreciate that there will be more experienced eyes on his work.”
“As for the note,” Dr. Rendall says. “We can give no insight into the writer, as we have already told Dr. Gray. The penmanship is unremarkable, and the poor penmanship is, sadly, common. As for the sentiment, there are those who might have shared it if the victim really were Mr. Cranston. We would not. What happened to Nora…”
He trails off and when silence falls, I say, softly, “Mr. Cranston is believed to have taken advantage of her?”
They both blink. Then Mrs. Rendall says, “Oh dear, no. Yes, I suppose that is what it would sound like, isn’t it? A wealthy gentleman from the city being blamed for doing something to a woman. No, that is not it at all.”
“Good. So Nora…”
