Page 59 of Death at a Highland Wedding
“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 leftup 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 chargewillnot stand or that Rosswillbow 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 itisan 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.”
