Page 77 of Death at a Highland Wedding
“I was not going to ask about removing them,” I say. “I wanted to ask whether there are any in this area.”
That crafty look again, as if he doesn’t want to answer because he likes seeing Cranston’s guests gingerly picking their way through the fields.
“It will be important for the investigation,” I say. “Mr. Sinclair was out here at night. He knew where the traps were. If there are some here—and he came into this field—it might suggest he was being pursued.”
Do I really think Sinclair was being chased? No. Everything indicates ambush. So why ask about this?
“There are no traps in this field.”
I frown. “Are you certain? I saw something gleaming over here.”
I start to walk, and he follows to prove me wrong. He walks right into a bit of marshy lowland and looks around. When his attention is diverted, I slip a few coins from my pocket and toss two.
“I see nothing,” he says with satisfaction.
“No? Then what is that?” I point at the coins.
He strides over, bends and scoops up the coins. Then he shakes his head and holds out a shilling between his thumb and forefinger. I let him drop it into my palm.
“Oh,” I say. “How peculiar. Is the other one also a coin?”
He lifts a guinea… and then smirks as he drops it into his pocket.
“You have wasted enough of my time with your foolishness,” he says, turning on his heel.
He strides off. Isla and I stay where we are until he’s out of earshot. Then she indicates the coin in my palm.
“Finger marks?” she says.
I smile and point down at very clear boot treads in the soft earth. “And footprints. Thank you, Mr. Müller. You were very helpful.”
She laughs softly as I wrap the coin in my handkerchief and then bend to measure the footprints.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Tallyho!” a voice calls when we reach the road.
We look to see McCreadie waving.
“Is that supposed to mean they’ve spotted foxes?” I say.
“I do not know whether I like being compared to a vixen,” Isla murmurs.
“Handsome, crafty, and clever,” I say. “I’ll take it. In my world, ‘fox’ is old-fashioned slang for an attractive woman.”
“I will never fail to marvel at how you can refer to something as ‘old-fashioned’ when we do not even have it yet.”
“A hundred and fifty years is a whole lotta generations with a whole lotta slang. I’m not even sure that one was used over here. Probably not. ‘Tallyho’ still is, mostly as a greeting between toffs.”
“Mallory just called you a toff,” Isla calls as they draw near.
“She had best not be referring to me,” Gray says.
“No, to Hugh,” Isla answers.
McCreadie’s mouth opens and then closes. “I… feel as if I should take offense, but it depends on how she means it. If she is saying I dress as an aristocratic gentleman, then I am not certain I should argue.”
“Sure, take it as a compliment. That’s definitely what I meant.”
