“If you got into trouble, or ever got scared, you could lean on your brothers and sisters. That must have been nice.” She smiled as she added, “You were never alone.”
That thought led to lyrics for a song, but she wouldn’t let herself be pulled away. She needed to focus on the task at hand, as Michael loved to tell her. Yes, she needed to do that now. Writing songs would come later.
“When are we scheduled to meet Inspector Sinclair?”
“I’m not sure yet. He’ll text and let us know,” he answered. “According to Nick there are police in Dunross now. Hopefully they’ll soon have some suspects.”
“We have time to make two more stops, and I think we should go to a pub. A lot of locals go there to catch up on the latest news and see old friends.”
“How about we don’t make any more stops.” He thought he’d sounded agreeable, which was a real stretch for him, considering the fact that he wanted to lock her in the car until they got to the hotel.
“Oh no,” she said. “You promised to drive me wherever I wanted to go as long as I followed the rules, and I’ve done exactly that, so two more stops, then the pub for dinner, and that will be the last of it.”
“Isabel, we need to get the hell out of here. It’s a miracle no one’s taken a shot at you yet. Luck runs out, babe.”
In the end it didn’t matter what he said. He had given her his word, and she wasn’t going to let him break it. He finally conceded.
“All right, but we aren’t going to spend more than fifteen or twenty minutes at each place.”
“I can’t promise that.”
He felt like growling. “If you aren’t finished in twenty minutes, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and getting out of there.”
From the set of his jaw she knew he’d do it, too.
“I’ll try to keep it under twenty minutes.”
They had just driven into Lockbridge Village. Michael parked in front of a fabric store at the top of a long, narrow street. Pretty shops lined both sides and Isabel couldn’t decide where to stop first.
There was Campbell’s Flowers, the Cheese Factory, Cowan’s Bakery, a tearoom, and a gift shop.
“You choose,” she said.
“Anywhere but the gift shop. We’ve done enough of those.”
“Tired of knickknacks?”
“How about the whiskey shop on the corner?” he suggested.
“Let’s go to the flower shop first.”
He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked along.
A bell over the door jingled when they walked inside. Millie and Alasdair Campbell, the owners, greeted them with a smile. The elderly couple’s shop wasn’t much bigger than a galley kitchen. The scents were wonderful. It was like walking into a perfume bottle, and the array of flower colors was beautiful. There were bright yellow lilies in full bloom, pink and purple hyacinths, white and red roses. The heather was her favorite, but purple thistle was a close second.
After Isabel asked a few questions, Millie told her a little something about each flower in between her whispered comments about her ailing father-in-law, while her husband, Alasdair, sat at a table in the corner, sipping tea. He kept a watchful eye on Michael.
After a few minutes, Alasdair motioned to Michael. “You might as well sit and take a cup of tea with me while we wait.”
Michael took him up on his offer. He drank strong hot tea but kept his attention on Isabel while Alasdair sorted through a stack of orders.
Millie had a lot of frustration stored up inside. She went into a long tirade about her ungrateful, downright mean father-in-law, but by the time she finished, she accepted the fact that she was going to have to take care of him because he needed help. “He’s scared because he feels helpless,” she concluded, grabbing Isabel’s hand. “Thank you so much for listening to me go on and on about family,” she said. “Would you like a spot of tea?”
“I’d love some.”
Five minutes later the four of them were crowded around the table with tea and scones in front of them.
“Are you and your mister on holiday?” Millie asked.
“Yes,” Isabel answered.
“We’re thinking of driving farther north and west,” Michael said. “See the countryside.”
“I’d be real careful if I were you,” Millie said.
“Why is that?” Michael asked.
“There’s turmoil up there. Isn’t that right, Alasdair?”
Her husband had looked half-asleep but as soon as Millie pulled him into the conversation, he became animated. The floodgates opened and he poured out every fact he knew about the different fights going on. He didn’t get around to the MacKennas for a long while, but when he did, he had a lot to say. Since Isabel and Michael were the only customers, Alasdair didn’t have to curb his opinions.
“I don’t want to talk out of turn,” Alasdair said. “But there’s a man named Clive Harcus boasting he’s the legitimate son of the man who owned Glen MacKenna. Clive thinks he’s the rightful heir, though everyone is guessing he wasn’t named in the will. As far as being the legitimate heir . . . we know better, don’t we, Millie?”
“Yes, we do, Alasdair.”
“Why do you know better?” Isabel asked.
“Like I said, I don’t want to talk out of turn, but Freya Harcus, Clive’s mother, was friendly when she was younger. Real friendly, if you know what I mean, with quite a few men.” He wobbled his eyebrows for emphasis. “Any one of at least a dozen men could be Clive’s father.”
“Is Freya Harcus still alive?”
Millie nodded. “She’s adamant that Clive is the rightful heir.”
“For the money, you see,” Alasdair said. “Folks are whispering that he already has a buyer.
Gonna pay him a lot of money.”
Isabel was trying to hide her anger. The Patterson Group, she decided. Clive had probably already made a deal with them once he got rid of Isabel.
“None of the other men who were friendly with Freya would claim Clive, though, because he’s such a mean son of a . . .”
“Snake,” Millie rushed to say.
Alasdair rolled his eyes.
“We need to get going,” Michael said.
“In just a moment,” Isabel promised.
She wasn’t going to leave without purchasing something. She chose a large white vase and asked Millie to fill it with a variety of flowers. Millie was quite an artist, and when she was finished, the arrangement had every color of the rainbow.
Alasdair turned Michael’s attention. “It’s a might stuffy in here. Would you mind propping the back door open to get a breeze? Right around the corner,” he directed, pointing the way. “There are some heavy boxes you’ll have to move to get to the door. In fact, I sure would appreciate it if you could lift them and put them on the metal shelves. They’re too heavy for me, and you look like you could handle it without any strain.”
“No problem,” Michael said.
While he couldn’t see Isabel, he could hear her. She was asking Millie to send the flowers to the nearest hospital and insisting she didn’t need a receipt.
“These flowers are beautiful, Millie. They’ll cheer someone up.”
Michael heard the bell signaling someone was coming in. He finished with the last box when he heard girls shrieking.