Mary Daheim - Scots on the Rocks

“Yes.” Adamson grimaced. “A fatality.”

“Who?” Judith asked.

“I’m sorry,” Adamson said. “We can’t say until next of kin are notified. We’re waiting for assistance.”

Judith looked over to the bank where the fire had practically burned out. Flashlights played around the area, probably wielded by emergency personnel. “Was it Harry Gibbs?”

Neither constable replied.

“If so,” Judith said, “you must inform his grandparents.”

“Regulations,” Adamson said. “Next of kin first.”

“Of course.” Judith nodded. “Moira, his wife.”

Again, the men said nothing.

“How very sad,” Judith said softly. “With a new baby and all. He had everything to live for.”

The constables both touched their caps in salute. “If you’ll excuse us…” Glen said politely.

“Sure,” Renie said. “I guess it’s over for Rover.”

Adamson looked puzzled. “Eh?”

Renie waved at the sputtering flames. “The Rover. Harry’s car.”

The policemen walked away. Up by the track that led to the beach, several people had gathered to gawk. Apparently they weren’t being allowed to come closer. Of course, Judith realized, the sands weren’t only an accident scene, but private property.

She flipped the cape’s hood over her head as a breeze picked up off the water. The salt air was strong; the receding surf was muffled. “The victim must be Harry. He’s so young. Moira’s a widow twice over.”

“Are you thinking ‘accident’?” Renie asked.

Judith frowned. “Just once, I’d like to avoid a murder.”

Renie laughed harshly. “With your track record, don’t count on it.”

Judith’s expression was bleak. “I won’t. What should we do? We can’t go back and face the Gibbses,” Judith said. “They suspect the explosion involved Harry, and we have no official word.”

“Are you up to walking into the village?” Renie asked. “It’s either that or spending the night on the beach.”

Judith considered their options. “I suppose we could have dinner in St. Fergna. But we still have to get back to the castle.” She stared as another vehicle drove onto the sands. “Somebody else just arrived. Let’s see who it is. The tide’s out enough that we won’t get our feet wet.”

Judith and Renie proceeded with caution in the wet sand, watching for rocks or any debris that might cause them to stumble. As they grew closer to the accident site, they saw the constables’ footprints. Adamson and Glen were approaching the car that had just come to a stop. A man wearing a raincoat and hat got out from the driver’s side.

Judith assumed he must be the local detective chief inspector—if that was indeed the correct title. But as the cousins moved closer, it was apparent that the newcomer was arguing with the constables.

“Don’t patronize me,” he warned in a stern voice. “If it’s Harry, I’ll tell Moira.”

Judith recognized Jimmy, Moira’s brother, from seeing him at the cemetery. The constables were trying to reason with him, but he brushed them aside. “Where’s the body?” he demanded.

Adamson glanced at the other emergency personnel who were finishing their part in the disaster operation. At that moment, Jimmy spotted the cousins. “And who are you?” he asked in an imperious tone.

“Does it matter?” Renie shot back.

“Of course it does!” Jimmy exploded, striding closer to Judith and Renie. “Are you witnesses?” he asked in a calmer tone.

“Are you a cop?” Renie asked.

“No.” He jammed his hands in the raincoat’s pockets. He was over six feet tall, with a dark goatee and hooded dark eyes. “I’m an attorney.”

Renie smirked. “We call them ambulance chasers in the States.”

“You’re not in the States,” Jimmy said dryly. “I understand the pejorative term. I represent Blackwell Oil, as well as my sister, Moira Gibbs. Did you witness the accident?”

Judith tried to nudge Renie out of the way. “We heard it. We’re staying at Grimloch Castle.”

Jimmy looked displeased. “You’re friends of Philip Fordyce?”

“Not exactly,” Judith said. She hesitated mentioning Hugh MacGowan. “It’s complicated.”

“But you saw nothing? Were you here or at the castle?”

“The castle,” Judith replied, as Renie wandered toward the track leading to the village. “You’re here because Moira’s husband is—”

Before Judith could finish, Jimmy turned swiftly and raced to meet a man wearing a leather jacket and Levi’s. “Patrick!” Jimmy shouted. “Where…?” The rest of the question was lost in the mist.

The two men engaged in deep conversation. After a minute or two, they walked over to the place where the Range Rover had burned into a smoking hulk. Judith noticed that the crowd at the top of the bank had grown. Half the village’s population had come to learn what caused the big bang.

“Do you expect Bill and Joe to come back tonight?” Judith asked.

“Only if MacGowan is called in because of this mess,” Renie said. “I don’t know the Highlands very well. Everything’s much smaller than at home in terms of distances. I don’t do kilometers.”

“Neither do I,” Judith admitted. Her attention was diverted by the man in the leather jacket who was storming away from Jimmy and heading in the opposite direction from the track to the beach. “Jimmy must have said the wrong thing to that guy, too. He seems angry.”

“He disappeared,” Renie noted. “There must be another way up from the beach.”

Judith gazed at the steep track. “I don’t want to try climbing up that tonight. We’d have to go through the spectator section and then get back to Grimloch. I won’t pester Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs when their grandson has probably been killed. Let’s walk back to the castle and try to avoid the Gibbses until they get official notification.”

“What about dinner?” Renie asked. “You must be starving.”

Judith gave Renie a wry look. “I tend to lose my appetite when tragedies occur. You, on the other hand, could’ve eaten your way through a torture session with the Inquisition.”

“I like Spanish food,” Renie said.

“What do you suppose happened? Did Harry stay in his car the rest of the afternoon after his swim? Or did he go somewhere and come back later? Did you see him at the castle while I was napping?”

“No,” Renie said. “His name wasn’t mentioned.”

Judith slowed her step as the mist grew thicker. “I can’t see the castle but we must be almost there.”

“We’d better be.” Renie finished speaking when the cousins were able to make out the dark stone walls rising above the rocky cliff. “Let’s hope we can summon the lift. It strikes me as problematical.”

Judith grimaced at the sheer cliff with its rugged face covered in moss and lichen. Despite the darkness, a movement about ten feet above the ground caught her eye. She looked up.

“It’s that bird Harry hated,” she said, “perched above us on a rock.”

“Where? I can’t see it,” Renie complained.

At that moment the great northern diver let out an eerie, haunting cry and flew off into the night. Judith shivered. “Never mind. It’s gone.”

The lift arrived a few seconds later, heralded by the contraption’s creaks and groans. Moments later, Judith and Renie were moving across the courtyard. To their relief, the door was unlocked.

“They must not need much security here,” Judith murmured.

An eerie silence echoed through the empty passageway. Despite her cape, Judith could feel a draft. “Let’s go to your room,” she suggested as they wound their way up the stone staircase. “Maybe we can watch what’s happening on the beach.”