***
The WhisperingCrow was a quintessential historic inn, standing proud in the middle of thebusiest part of town. It's stone walls and old wood-framed windows towered overus, as we approached the crooked steps and entered through the heavy, creakingdoor. Brodie addressed the woman at the front desk with an acknowledging nod ofhis head, as he pulled his badge from his pants pocket.
“InspectorAlec Brodie,” he introduced himself, and the woman took it from him withstartled curiosity.
Shestudied it, as if under the assumption that he could be posing as someone hewasn’t, and asked, “What can I do for ye, Inspector?”
“Therewas a womanstayin' here,” he said, taking his badgefrom her and tucking it away. “Her name was Grace Allan, an American.” Hepulled a picture out from the same place he'd tucked his badge. “Do yerecognize her?”
Thewoman took the picture from him and immediately nodded. “Aye. She'sstayin' in the Lovers' Room. Said she was supposed to be onher honeymoon, but her arsehole of a fiancé was caught with another woman. Hisbest friend's wife, she said.”
Ilaughed quietly from Brodie's side. Gracie was always so quiet and reserved,unless the opportunity to badmouth Matt was presented. Then, her mouth wouldrun quicker than she could catch it, and it didn't surprise me at all that thiswoman would know the whole story.
Brodietook the picture from her and returned it to its pocket. “That would be her,”he replied. “When was the last time ye saw her?”
“Oh,hmm …” The woman pursed her lips as her forehead crumpled in thought, deepeningthe valleys of wrinkles that ran just below her hairline. “Y'know,Icouldnaesay fer certain. It's been two, threedays, perhaps. Maybe more. Iwasnaeworkin' earlier this week, so …”
“Isshe still checked in?” Brodie asked.
“Letme see here,” she replied, turning to the computer. “Grace Allan, ye said?”
“Aye.”
Shetyped fervently; her head held high with importance. Then, she nodded andpointed to the screen. “Ah, see, right there. She's still in our Lovers' Room,and—”
“She’sdead,” Brodie interrupted.
Thewoman turned to him, her mouthopenin horror and hereyes wide. “Yerbum'soutthewindae,” she gasped, clutching a hand to hercollar, but Brodie shook his head, while I wondered what the hell she had meant.
“Herbody was found inCoilleFeannag,”he informed her, and she clucked her tongue and hung her head.
“Och, what a fuckin' shame. She was such a lovely lass.”
“I'llneed access to her room,” Brodie said, holding out his palm for the key.
“Aye,of course, ye do,” she said agreeably, hurrying to the rows of hanging keysbehind the desk, while needlessly saying, “We make a number of copies fer eachof our rooms. Ye never ken when there'sgonnabe anemergency.” She plucked one from the wall and turned, handing it to Alec. “Goodthing, or Iwouldnaebe in the position to help yeright now.”
Brodienodded stiffly and grasped the key in his hand. “Thank ye, miss. I'll bekeepin' this until the investigation is over.”
“Ofcourse, of course!”
“Ah,and can I just getyername?” he asked, removing apad of paper and pen from his pocket.
“O-oh,yes,” she stammered. “It’s Isla.”
“Thankye foryercooperation, Isla,” he said, putting awaythe pen and paper.
Then,before she could reply, we headed toward the grand staircase, situated justbeside the door, and I whispered, “What does 'yourbum'sout the window' mean?” And Brodie just chuckled, before replying, “Welcome toScotland, lass.”
***
Wearrived at Room 12, the Lovers’ Room, and if I had to describe it in a word,standing in front of that door felt surreal. Just the thought of this being thelast place my sister had slept brought forth emotions I hadn’t expected, andnot knowing what we’d find behind the door left me riddled with bone-chillinganxiety.
“Yecan wait out here if ye want,” Brodie offered, as he positioned the key at theknob.
“No,I told you I’m doing this,” I said stubbornly, waiting for him to just rip thebandage off and open the door.
“Allright,” he sighed with resignation, turning thekeyand pushing the door open.
