Read Online 08 - The Highland Fling Murders by Jessica Fletcher, Donald Bain - Free Book Online Page A

was viewed by some with skepticism, even outright hostility.”
    “Why, for heaven’s sake?”
    “Rumor. Superstition. Fear. Envy. Hatred.”
    “Directed toward your family?”
    “Yes.”
    “Again, I ask why?”
    “Because it has been believed since the day my family built this remarkable place that it’s been occupied not only by members of the Sutherland Clan, but by—well, by ghosts.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “Like the lady in white?” I asked.
    “Were it only about her, Jessica. No, over the centuries the people of Wick have blamed the castle and its occupants for almost every violent act occurring in the village.” He drew a deep breath. “I should have told you all of this before inviting you and your friends.”
    “Don’t be silly. Some people in Wick might think there’s some brand of witchcraft being practiced at Sutherland Castle, but I’m certainly not one of them. Nor are any of my friends.”
    “Mrs. Richardson?”
    “Alicia? I can understand why she’s still upset. That incident at the Tower of London would leave anyone shaken.”
    “Of course. But I can’t help but wonder whether that incident wasn’t preordained in some way. After all, the man who held her and her husband wanted to salvage the name of a distant relative accused of practicing witchcraft.”
    “Sheer coincidence,” I said, putting a dollop of clotted cream on my scone and taking a bite.
    “Yes. But then we have Isabell Gowdie being murdered over three hundred years ago, put to death as a witch by a pitchfork in the chest, and a cross carved in her throat. Flash-forward to twenty years ago. Evelyn Gowdie killed the same way. And now, twenty years later, Daisy Wemyss. Sheer coincidence?”
    “No. Of course not. But it has nothing to do with you or this castle.”
    “Intellect versus emotion, Jessica. Intellectually, you’re right. No connection at all. But emotionally? Well, it’s hard to not wonder whether there’s some sort of mystical link, no matter how vague or tangential.”
    “I suggest you stick with your keenly honed intellect, George. You wear it well.”
    “You’re right, of course, as usual. You mentioned earlier that Constable McKay seemed angry when he mentioned my name.”
    “Yes, I sensed that.”
    “I’m not surprised.”
    “Why?”
    “He’s a good man, Jessica. But he’s between, as the saying goes, a rock and a hard place. Whenever something violent happens in Wick, he’s buffeted between two forces—the reasonable citizens of the village, and another group that has carried forward this distrust of the Sutherland clan and Sutherland Castle. This latter group is very superstitious, steeped in old mythology and metaphor. In their eyes, every problem will be solved when and if I sell this castle.”
    “How would that help anything?”
    “It wouldn’t, at least not in the eyes of rational people. But the others believe that the only way to break the curse this castle supposedly casts over Wick is for the last surviving member of my family, namely me, to shed any connection to this place and leave.”
    “Are you considering that, George?”
    “Yes, although not for that reason. I’ve mentioned to you how difficult it is to hang on to this castle. It costs a bloody fortune, and finding the right help to keep it going as a hotel has become increasingly difficult.”
    “So you said.”
    “I should. Sell it, that is. I visit here only a few weeks a year. London is my home and has been ever since I joined the Yard. But each time I come dose to putting it on the market, there’s a bond with my ancestors that keeps me from going through with it.”
    “I can certainly understand that. Is there a market for such a place?”
    He smiled, his first since settling in front of the fireplace. “It’s hardly a place a family of four would want to buy as a home. But its value as a hotel is considerable. There have been two investor groups that have made offers over the past few years.