Mary Daheim - Scots on the Rocks

“He didn’t,” Judith said. “But he put everything in motion, including connivance with Jocko and Archie Morton.”

“How do you know that?” Marie asked.

Judith shrugged. “All along, I felt jealousy was the motive. It caused Davey’s death, the jealous husband angle.” She saw the expressions of surprise and incredulity on the two couples’ faces. “Jocko goaded Harry into murdering Davey, hoping Harry would get caught and go to prison. But someone—Patrick, I suspect—put pressure on Hugh MacGowan to hold off with the investigation. Or was it you, Will?”

Will sadly shook his head. “Both of us. Moira and the company couldn’t afford that kind of scandal, not with Jocko already playing the numbers game. When Jocko left for Greece right after Davey’s death, we urged MacGowan to back off until Jocko came back—which we were sure he’d do eventually.”

Judith nodded. “Jocko figured the motive for Davey’s murder could be used again for Harry’s. The work of a jealous lover, this time around it was Patrick. If Jocko could concoct a romance between Moira and Davey, why not do the same with Moira and Patrick? She was very close to both men. But who told Jocko about Matt and Peggy’s schemes in Venezuela?”

“Archie?” Will guessed.

Judith shook her head. “He had no entrée into Blackwell except through his brother. It had to be Jimmy. Somehow he found out what the Gibbses were up to, and could only stop them by killing Harry. He wouldn’t do the dirty work, so the Morton brothers did it for him. Jimmy and the Mortons were kin. Jimmy’s mother was married to Archie and Jocko’s cousin. Family—or clan ties, if you will—mean a great deal around here.”

Marie nodded. “That’s so, even among villains. But who actually smothered Harry?”

Judith grimaced. “Archie Morton is my best guess. His repair shop was close to the beach. No one would question his presence there. I can’t see Jocko sullying his hands with murder. But Archie might if his brother and Jimmy promised to pay him well.” She shot Renie a wry glance. “My cousin gave me the idea.”

“I did?” Renie said in surprise.

Judith nodded. “You mentioned that Archie couldn’t be a real mechanic because he didn’t have dirt under his fingernails. At the time, I thought that was just you, being perverse and getting into it with Archie. Then I realized you were right. Archie’s conscience may have bothered him. Like Pontius Pilate, he literally wanted to wash his hands of the whole tragedy. Not to mention that he’d know about forensic science, being in the car repair business and having to deal with the police about vehicles that had been involved in crimes. He probably spent the next few days after the murder washing and washing his hands and clothes.”

“Hunh,” Renie said. “Even Lumpa-Lumpa gets an aria.”

Philip looked puzzled. “What?”

“Never mind,” Judith said. “Jimmy set everything in motion, using the others to get control of Blackwell and going back to Davey’s death. The rest of them were his puppets.”

“But what about Chuckie?” Beth asked.

Judith sighed. “I wondered if Chuckie had recognized Harry’s killer through his binoculars,” she said. “I also conjectured that he’d seen the killer here at Grimloch. After the explosion, people rushed to see what had happened. The killer needed time to escape and could have sought refuge in the castle. The elevator had been used after my cousin and I took it. Then Chuckie bragged about his knowledge. At first, I assumed his killer and Harry’s was the same person. Then I realized Chuckie’s killer knew this castle intimately, which ruled out most of the other suspects. It also dawned on me that someone else could’ve gone down to the beach and returned before we did.” Judith pressed her lips together before addressing Philip. “I believe Gibbs killed your son.”

Why?” Philip demanded, rising halfway out of his chair.

“I think you know,” Judith said somberly. “Gibbs was torn apart by his grandson’s death. A son for a son, an eye for an eye…” She paused, looking away. “But more than that, it was your purchase of Grimloch that neither of the Gibbses could forgive—or forget.”

Philip looked aghast. “I did them a favor! That was almost thirty years ago. Matthew and Peggy were foolishly throwing the family’s money around to finance all their ridiculous schemes. They were both unethical and damned lucky they didn’t end up in prison. The price I offered was fair, given all the work that needed to be done to restore and renovate this place. My God, they should’ve been grateful, not resentful!”

“It didn’t work that way,” Judith said quietly. “Both of the elder Gibbses had misplaced anger. They definitely resented what you’d done and your presence here. They felt like peasants with you as their feudal lord. It must’ve seemed so unfair to them when Harry was murdered. To his grandparents, he was perfect, while Chuckie was tragically flawed. The irony wasn’t lost on them. Gibbs is old, but strong as an ox.” Again she gazed at Philip. “I’m so sorry.”

Philip closed his eyes. “God help me, so am I.”

Well?” Renie said after the cousins went up to the Joneses’ room. “Why didn’t you tell me your solutions sooner?”

“I wasn’t sure until we got to the Fordyce suite and I had time to hear what everybody said,” Judith explained a bit sheepishly. “And Gibbs’s guilt only came to me after I pondered what Mrs. Gibbs told us in the kitchen.”

Renie’s expression was sour. “Okay. I think. Thanks for the credit you gave me regarding Archie. Now what?”

“We wait.” Judith was staring out of the window, where a heavy rain still fell. “What else can we do?”

Renie was gnawing on her thumb. “Call the American embassy?”

Judith turned around. “If it comes to that—”

“Open the door.”

Judith and Renie jumped. The voice was muffled, but there was no mistaking that it was the same one they’d heard on other occasions.

“Holy Mother!” Renie gasped. “I’m going crazy!”

“Open the door.”

Judith looked at Renie. “Then we’re both crazy. It must be coming from the hall.” She walked to the door and slowly opened it.

“My God!” Judith shrieked. “Joe! Bill!” She fell into her husband’s arms.

Renie raced to meet Bill. “Where’ve you been? Are you okay? How—” Suddenly overcome, she let Bill envelop her in a tight hug.

After a few moments, Judith raised her head to see that another man stood behind the husbands. He was tall and stalwart with iron gray hair and deep-set brown eyes.

“MacGowan?” Judith said over Joe’s shoulder.

“Aye.” The newcomer smiled ruefully. “Sorry to detain Mr. Flynn and Mr. Jones. Of course I was detained as well.”

Judith and Renie both moved out of their husbands’ embrace. “Come in,” Judith said. “Sit down. Oh, I’m so relieved!”

“Who found you?” Renie asked, unable to sit still.

“Nobody,” Bill replied. “We weren’t lost.”

“But—” Judith began.

Joe held up a hand. “Let Hugh tell you.”

“Simple enough.” Hugh leaned on the mantelpiece and stroked his chin. “Patrick Cameron tracked me down at the Glengarry Hotel. He knew I suspected that Harry Gibbs might have arranged David Piazza’s accident. But Patrick felt Jimmy was behind it and was afraid that Jimmy was ultimately responsible for Harry’s murder. Patrick knew Jimmy didn’t trust Harry, and if arrested, he’d point a finger at the culprit who egged him on to kill Davey. Patrick was at his cottage when the explosion occurred. He started for the beach but saw Jimmy already heading that way and held off for a few minutes. When Patrick went down to see what was happening, he ran into Jimmy, who mentioned how terrible it was that Harry had been killed by a bomb.”