Page 96 of Death at a Highland Wedding
He doesn’t ask how I got them. Doesn’t ask what they are or feign confusion. He just looks at me, hate dripping from his gaze.
“I found these in your cottage,” I say. “Hidden under a floorboard.”
“Why were you in my cottage?” His voice oozes warning.
“I work for Dr. Gray,” I say, as if that answers the question. “I found these, but I am not certain what to make of them.”
“You think I know?”
“They were inyourcottage.”
“It has not been mine for long. Speak to that girl who lived there. They must be hers.”
I lift the piece of cloth. “These come from a pair of bloomers. She would not hide those.”
“Would she not?” An ugly smile crosses his face. “As a reminder, perhaps? She was with a boy, having fun, and it was…” He bares his teeth in a smile. “Memorable. You would know all about that.”
“I do not know Lenore at all,” I say, ignoring his meaning. “But I will ask whether these are hers.”
“They are,” he says. “I am sure of it. Now take your silly questions and go. I have no more time for you, girl.”
It’s a quiet walk back to the house. McCreadie glances at me a few times, testing whether I want to talk, but when I don’t speak up, he doesn’t prod. He knows I’m thinking it through.
We’re nearing the house when Isla and Gray come out to meet us.
“What did Mr. Müller say?” Isla asks when we’re within earshot.
“May I see that note?” I ask.
Her brows shoot up. “That is not what he said. I am quite certain of it.”
She’s teasing, but Gray can tell I’m not in the mood to respond, and he hands me the note.
“We believe the misunderstanding comes from the name,” he says. “There must be another Nora in town. Do we know what the child’s mother’s name is?”
I run my fingers over the name. Nora. Or that’s what it looks like, but the penmanship is bad enough that I’m only clear on the first three letters.
“What are short forms for Lenore?” I say.
McCreadie lets out a curse. “Of course.”
“Her brother called her Len, but are there other nicknames?” I ask. “Lenore isn’t a common name in my time.”
“Nor,” Isla says. “Or Nori.”
I nod. “When Fiona and I went to speak to Archie in jail, I mentioned Nora, and he misheard it as Lenore. I didn’t make the connection—the similarity in the names—until after Hugh and I spoke to Müller.”
I hold up the handkerchief. “Müller says these belong to Lenore. He insinuated she had a fling with a boy and that’s why she stuffed the bit of her bloomers under the floor. He clearly recognized the items, but he also told us to show them to Lenore, that they’re hers and he’s sure of it.”
“Bloody hell,” McCreadie mutters.
“Now the question is whether we wait for Lenore… or we ask Mrs. Hall whether she recognizes the ring and ribbon.”
We decide to ask Mrs. Hall. It’ll be the independent corroboration we need, keeping Lenore from claiming the ring and ribbon aren’t hers. It’ll also let us go into our interview with Lenore with hard evidence.
The problem iswhento ask. It’ll be dinner soon, and Mrs. Hall is busysupervising the meal. The question will need to wait. In the meantime, I want to speak to Violet again. Unofficially.
Her late-night meeting with Sinclair is bothering me. I need to speak to her in private, preferably during a casual conversation. In other words, I need an excuse, and I get it when I’m slowly heading up the stairs and sense someone impatient behind me.
