“Drugs?” I whispered.
“Possibly.” Damian cocked his head to one side. “A consignment of cocaine, for example, would fit easily in the expanded tomb, where it would be stored until called for. Mick’s dinghy could be used to bring the shipment from the Chapel to Alasdair Murdoch’s fishing boats, and Mr. Murdoch would take it to the mainland for distribution. I suspect that the islanders use the tweed mill to launder the dirty money.” He nodded. “Drug transport is a lucrative business, Lori. It would pay for many of the things Peter and Cassie pointed out to us today.”
“Your theory is worse than theirs!” I cried, sitting upright. “And I refuse to believe it. Mick wasn’t faking his affection for the old laird, nor was Mrs. Muggoch.The islanders loved him.They’d never desecrate his grave. They wouldn’t betray him for the sake of a few creature comforts. It’s . . . it’s sacrilegious. ”
“I won’t argue the point, Lori,” said Damian. “You asked my opinion, and I’ve given it.”
“But what are you going to do about it?” I demanded. “If you honestly believe what you’ve just told me, Damian, shouldn’t you do something? Shouldn’t you tell Percy?”
“Tell him what?” Damian retorted. “My opinion is just that—an opinion. It’s based on suspicions and suppositions, nothing more. I’ve no real evidence of wrongdoing, and I don’t intend to seek it out. I’m not a policeman, Lori. I’m a bodyguard.” He got to his feet. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to work.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and stared unhappily into the fire. As Damian passed my chair, he paused briefly to put a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re not a policeman, either, Lori,” he said. “You came here to protect yourself and your sons. Remember that. Don’t let yourself be distracted.”
The hand was removed, and a moment later I heard the foyer door open and close. I slowly uncoiled myself from my chair, went to the bedroom, and picked up Aunt Dimity’s journal.
“I spoke with Damian,” I said, standing with the journal open in my hands. “He thinks the islanders dug up the old laird’s body and replaced it with shipments of cocaine. The world’s gone mad, Dimity.”
I’m afraid you won’t restore it to sanity tonight, my dear.Try to get some sleep.Who knows? A new fact may come to light tomorrow that will sustain your faith in human nature and prove the doubters wrong.
I smiled wanly, bade Aunt Dimity good night, and went to bed, where my agitated thoughts gave way to agitated dreams involving gangs of sinister fishermen who looked like Mick Ferguson and sounded like Mrs. Muggoch.
Sixteen
The next day’s schedule of events could have been torn from the calendar of a child-friendly resort—if the resort offered live-in bodyguards as an optional extra. Damian and I rose early, breakfasted with Andrew and the twins in the nursery, and descended with them to Sir Percy’s sheltered cove armed with the usual cricket gear as well as a bucketful of knights-in-armor to man the sand castles. When the sky began to cloud over, we retired to Dundrillin for a splash in the heated swimming pool, from which Damian abstained. Andrew took his midday meal in the nursery with Will and Rob, and Damian and I had ours in the dining room with Sir Percy.
A misty drizzle settled in after lunch, so we spent the afternoon in the nursery. The twins and I created unsung masterpieces with finger paints and modeling clay until teatime, then whiled away the hours before dinner building a complicated complex of sea caves for their seal pups, using blankets, tables, model cars, knights in armor, plastic dinosaurs, and a variety of other items seldom observed in the wild by the Seal Conservation Trust but which my sons deemed essential to a baby seal’s happiness. After dinner came bath time, story time, bedtime, the elevator ride to the Cornflower Suite, and then, as we stepped out of the elevator, a joyfully breathless telephone call from Bill.
“Yarborough’s men have come up with a lead,” he crowed. “I can’t stay on the phone—too much to do—but Yarborough’s convinced that we’re on the right track. With any luck we’ll capture our man within the next day or two.”
“But who is he?” I demanded. “Who is Abaddon?”
“It’s too complicated to explain right now,” said Bill. “I’ll give you the whole story when I see you, and I’ll see you very soon. Thank heavens Yarborough did those interviews, Lori. I’m sorry, love. I’ve got to go. Kiss the boys for me. I’ll see you soon!”
Bill rang off. I stood in the foyer, staring at the cell phone, dazed and a bit weak-kneed with relief, until Damian took the phone from me and offered a quiet word of caution.