Mary Daheim - Scots on the Rocks

“Sounds like home,” Judith murmured, recalling the temporary mailman on the Heraldsgate Hill route who couldn’t read English.

Grizel was studying a new order. “Fish paste sandwich and two burgers,” she noted. “Mrs. G must want the fish paste—nobody else ever does. Are the burgers yours?”

“Yes,” Judith answered. “I can wait and save you a trip.”

“Ian will do it,” Grizel said.

Judith thanked Grizel and went back to the office. To her surprise, Renie was standing by the open door. “The hen flew the coop.”

Judith looked into the cramped office. “Did you see her leave?”

Renie shook her head and pointed to a door marked exit. “It leads to a path that ends at Patrick Cameron’s cottage.”

Judith was mystified. “Why? I thought Kate wanted our help.”

“Somebody called on her cell phone?” Renie suggested.

Judith opened the door. The dirt path ran behind two smaller buildings before abutting Patrick’s property. “I wonder if he’s there.”

“Do we find out?” Renie asked.

“Are you really hungry?”

“No. I’m still too worried about our guys.”

Judith went into the office, wrote a brief note to Ian explaining their hasty departure, and left twenty pounds on the desk.

“Since when,” Renie inquired as they walked along the narrow path, “did we get stupid? This could be a trap.”

“Why? There’s no reason for Kate to harm us,” Judith replied.

“The trap might be for Kate. Maybe she knows too much.”

“Kate can take care of herself,” Judith said, opening a gate in the hedge that went around the cottage. “Let’s try the back way.”

Her knock drew no response. “We’ll try the front,” Judith said.

The result was also futile, and there was no sign of Patrick’s car. “I’m stymied,” Judith admitted. “I assume Kate drove to the village, but we’ve no idea what she drives. Now what?”

Her cell phone rang. Hurriedly, she took it out of her purse.

“MacRae here,” he said. “I’ve good news. MacGowan sent us a text message saying they’d found a hot spot on the Findhorn and changed their plans. They’ll be in touch.”

“Oh!” Judith exclaimed. “That’s a relief! I’ll tell my cousin they’re safe. Thanks so much.” She rang off.

“So we’re not widows after all?” Renie said with a big grin.

“No, thank heavens,” Judith replied, putting the cell back in her purse. “So where is Kate? And where is Patrick?”

Part of the answer came in the form of Barry, driving his rattletrap car down the High Street. “Hullo!” he called. “Busy time. Lunch hour.” Brakes squealing like so many piglets, he managed to stop just short of Patrick’s fence. “He’s not home.”

“How do you know?” Judith inquired, moving cautiously toward the unpredictable vehicle.

“Because he’s at Hollywood House, giving a press conference,” Barry replied. “I just came from there. Those reporters like pizza.”

“What kind of press conference?” Judith asked, one eye on the Bruce, who was nibbling on pepperoni in what was left of the backseat.

“Oh—you know,” Barry said vaguely. “The reporters all ask questions at once, and the nob who’s behind the mike goes blahblah and never really answers.”

“Patrick must have had a reason for calling the press conference,” Judith asserted. “Do you remember anything he said?”

The hamster had polished off the pepperoni and was nibbling on a much-abused suede jacket.

“The Bruce is eating your outerwear,” Renie said. “Do you mind?”

Barry turned around to look into the backseat. “Nae, he likes it better than I do. It’s too short in the sleeves for me.”

“It’s getting shorter,” Renie noted. “That’s the part he’s chewing.”

Barry shrugged. “It came cheap, being second—” He stopped and snapped his fingers. “Now I remember. Patrick was talking about Davey Piazza. That’s who the jacket belonged to before it was sent to the thrift shop. Patrick claimed that Davey’s accident wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t an accident?” Judith said.

“Right. Patrick told the reporters that if they wanted to find out who killed Harry they should go after whoever made Davey’s car crash.” Barry tapped the padded container next to him in the front seat. “Sorry. Got two more pizza deliveries—the post office and the auto repair.”

The cousins gave Barry and his car a wide berth. After a couple of false starts, the engine caught and he rattled off toward Archie’s garage.

Judith was silent for a few moments. “Davey’s death has always struck me as a little too convenient.”

“His rise and fall seem odd,” Renie agreed. “It’s not as if someone immigrating to a new country doesn’t have to take a menial job for starters, but they usually spend a long time working their way up. Davey fell into the cream awfully fast.”

Judith nodded. “Moira didn’t hire him for his ability to toss pizza dough. Her habit of falling in love indicates she was thinking with the wrong part of her anatomy.” She paused, shielding her eyes from the midday sun. “This is starting to make sense. I think.”

“Ah.” Renie smiled. “Your customary logic has kicked in.”

Judith shrugged. “I don’t understand big business, but I know people. There aren’t many motives for cold-blooded murder, but jealousy is a big one.” She gazed toward the sea where the sun glinted off of the incoming waves. “There are plenty of reasons for envy with this bunch. You might say,” she said wryly, “we’ve got too much of a bad thing.”

For once, Judith was walking so fast Renie had to hurry to catch up with her. “Where are we going?” she demanded as Judith crossed the High Street and headed for the coast road.

“Hollywood House,” Judith called over her shoulder. “But we need transport. Maybe Barry’s still at Morton’s garage.”

As soon as the cousins reached the auto shop, they saw Barry’s beater parked in front of Archie Morton’s office. Judith suggested that they wait outside.

“Why?” Renie said. “Another rumpus with Archie might be fun.”

“Not for me,” Judith declared. “You’re getting ornerier as you grow older. I refuse to spend my twilight years with you in a nursing home. You’d probably get tossed anyway for outrageous brutality.”

“I’m learning how your mother drives that wheelchair,” Renie said. “She’s got some great moves. She should be licensed to kill.”

“Don’t mention it,” Judith said, and winced. “I shouldn’t have moved so fast. Now I feel wobbly.”

Barry and Archie came out of the office. They seemed to be arguing, but Judith couldn’t hear what they were saying. Barry finally shrugged and stalked back to the car. He didn’t seem surprised to see the cousins.

“Poor tipper?” Renie inquired.

“No tipper at all,” Barry replied, still annoyed. “He says all his expenses at the garage go into the computer and he can’t figure in tips. That’s bosh. I had two pizzas, one for Archie and one for his main mechanic. Rob’s a good lad, always gives me a quid. But Archie wouldn’t let me take Rob’s pizza to the back shop like I do usually. Just mean, that’s Archie Morton.”

“We didn’t have computers when I worked at the Meat & Mingle years ago,” Judith said. “We were lucky to have a cash register. If the help wanted to get paid, they had to roll the drunks when they fell off of the—” She stopped. “Never mind. I just had the strangest thought.”

“What?” Renie asked sharply.

Judith shook her head. “It was silly.” But she was suddenly worried, though she tried to hide her concern from Renie and Barry.