At the Water's Edge

Chapter Forty-two

 

 

 

 

 

See you at dinner, he’d said.

 

I stayed at the table grappling with the concept, trying to parse it into something that wasn’t cold-blooded murder. I tried to look at it from a purely rational point of view, as simply having to make a choice between organs—my brain or his kidneys. But it wasn’t just his kidneys. It was his life.

 

I tried to look at it as self-defense, but it wasn’t. If I allowed it to happen, it would be an execution, and a preemptive one at that, because he had yet to commit the crime.

 

I couldn’t do it. Despite everything I stood to lose, I just couldn’t sit by and watch him be poisoned.

 

I had only just come to that conclusion when the door burst open, hitting the wall behind it.

 

Two policemen strode in. A dark paddy wagon was parked in the street beyond them, and through the rain, I made out the words INVERNESS-SHIRE CONSTABULARY painted on its side.

 

These were no Bob the Bobbies—their uniforms were crisp navy with satin stripes running down the sides of their pants, their pointed helmets emblazoned with silver insignia. Truncheons and handcuffs hung from their black belts, and when they came to a stop, water rolled off their slick uniforms, forming puddles around their heavy boots.

 

“Good morning, ladies,” said the taller one, nodding at us.

 

I almost couldn’t breathe. Ellis had done it. He’d actually done it.

 

Was it because he hadn’t liked the way Angus looked at us the night before? Had I not been convincing enough in my role as doting wife? Perhaps he’d returned from the trip already determined, and there was nothing I could have done anyway.

 

“And how can I help you gentlemen?” Meg asked.

 

I had to warn Angus, couldn’t believe that I hadn’t already—

 

“We’re looking for Angus Duncan Grant,” said one of them. “I believe he resides here?”

 

“He does for the moment. And what are you wanting with him?” asked Meg.

 

“Just a quick word is all.”

 

He sounded so pleasant, so polite, so matter-of-fact. It was hard to believe he was about to destroy Angus’s life.

 

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” said Meg.

 

I stared after her as she went into the kitchen, and when I jerked back around, both policemen were watching me. I was sure they’d seen the panic in my eyes.

 

“Good morning, Officers,” said Angus, coming around the front of the bar and sitting on one of the tall stools. “I hear you’d like a word?”

 

Conall came with him, flopping down at his feet. The dog looked relaxed, but his eyes darted.

 

“Mr. Grant—”

 

“That’s Captain Grant,” Anna said, from over by the fire.

 

The policeman nodded at her, then looked back at Angus. “Captain Grant, my name is Inspector Chisholm, and this is Sergeant MacDougall. We’ve had a report up at the courthouse about someone poaching on the grounds at Craig Gairbh.”

 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know anything about that,” said Angus.

 

“The report named you as the perpetrator,” said Inspector Chisholm, “and a quick summary of the evidence seems to suggest it’s true. We took a wee stroll around the property, and couldn’t help noticing that there’s a well-stocked dugout in the hill behind. Two red deer, a pheasant, and a capercaillie hanging, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us how they were obtained?”

 

“I took them from the hills,” Angus said. “As I’m sure you’ve jaloused.”

 

“And that includes the grounds at Craig Gairbh?”

 

“Aye,” said Angus, nodding.

 

“Well,” said Inspector Chisholm, raising his eyebrows. “I can’t say I was expecting that. Your honesty is refreshing, but all the same, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you in.”

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Angus, remaining entirely calm. He folded his arms over his chest, then stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.

 

“I’m afraid I have no choice,” said Inspector Chisholm. “The law is very clear on the matter.”

 

“And who’s leveled the charges then?” said Angus. “Because it certainly wasn’t the laird.”

 

“And how would you be knowing that?” asked Inspector Chisholm.

 

“Because I think I’d remember doing it,” said Angus.

 

I was utterly confused. Judging from their faces, the policemen were as well.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Inspector Chisholm finally said.

 

“I don’t think I can level charges against myself, and at any rate, even if I could, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t want to.”

 

“You’re telling us you’re the laird.”

 

“Aye,” said Angus, nodding. “These three months. Son of the previous laird’s late brother. Closest surviving male relative.”

 

I couldn’t grasp it. I turned to Angus. “But that night Bob the Bobby came in—he gave you a warning for poaching,” I sputtered.

 

“That wasn’t for poaching,” he said. “That was for throwing the water bailiff in the river.”

 

I stared into his eyes as I realized what all this meant. Then I leapt to my feet.

 

“That bastard. That rat bastard! I can’t wait to tell him!”

 

“Maddie?” said Angus. “What’s going on?”

 

“It was Ellis! He made the report! He was threatening to have you thrown in prison if I didn’t turn back into his perfect society wife.” I stopped suddenly. “And then he followed through. My God, the hospital is probably on its way for me right now.”

 

“Hospital? What hospital?” Angus demanded.

 

“Meg can tell you. I have to go,” I said, rushing past the officers to grab my coat.

 

“Maddie, stop!” said Angus. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming with you.”

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Inspector Chisholm, “but could we trouble you for a wee bit of proof about this claim of yours before we all go about our business?”

 

“That can wait,” said Angus, striding toward the door. “Conall, trobhad! Crios ort!”

 

The dog scrambled to his feet, trotting to catch up.

 

“I’m afraid it cannot,” said Inspector Chisholm, reaching out and snagging Angus’s upper arm. In an instant, Angus had swung around and was holding the other man’s wrists parallel to his ears. Their faces were inches apart.

 

Sergeant MacDougall stepped forward with his hand on his truncheon.

 

After a few seconds, Angus released Inspector Chisholm, who straightened his sleeves and stared belligerently.

 

“I’ll get your proof, and you’ll be on your way,” said Angus. “Meg, get the lockbox. I’ll get the key. And Maddie, don’t go anywhere.”

 

When he turned around, I took the opportunity to duck into the rain.

 

There were a number of things I wanted to say to Ellis—and Hank—before anyone else got there.

 

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