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

Sizable offers, Jessica. They see this terribly depressed area of Scotland as having tourist potential far beyond what it enjoys today.”
    “But you’ve resisted all offers.”
    “Yes. Foolish?”
    “I don’t know. Such a personal decision to make. Pragmatism versus the heart.”
    “Well put. I suppose I should go down to the village and pay my respects to Daisy’s family. I know her father. A decent sort.”
    I told him about having met Daisy’s uncle, the shop owner.
    “I know him, too. It’s a small place, although that doesn’t necessarily translate into everyone knowing everyone else. We Scots tend to stay to ourselves, especially in the smaller towns and villages.”
    “George, before you go, can you conceive of anyone in Wick who would have so brutally murdered Daisy Wemyss?”
    “No. But after all my years with the Yard, I’ve come to learn that there are people—too many people—capable of such horrific acts.”
    We were interrupted when Malcolm entered the room. “There’s someone to see you, sir.”
    “Who?”
    “Constable McKay.”
    George looked at me and drew a deep breath.
    “I’ll be in my room,” I said.
    “No. Stay with me, Jessica.”
    Malcolm had shown the constable to a small sitting room I hadn’t seen before. Another door from it led to George’s office.
    “Horace,” George said, shaking McKay’s hand. “You’ve met Mrs. Fletcher.”
    “Ay. And under unpleasant circumstances, I’m afraid.”
    “Extremely unpleasant,” George said. “Please, sit down. Tea? Whiskey?”
    “Whiskey. Two fingers.”
    George rang for Malcolm, who delivered the whiskey to Constable McKay. He drank alone.
    “Well, Horace, this news about Daisy Wemyss has provided quite a shock. How is her father?”
    “Unhappy.”
    Another Scottish understatement.
    “Any leads?”
    “No. George, might we have a word alone?”
    “Why?”
    “To discuss some of the other ramifications of this dastardly event.”
    “Mrs. Fletcher is aware of those other ‘ramifications,’ Horace. There’s no need for her to leave.”
    “As you wish. People are beginning to hear about Daisy Wemyss, George. Some of them are threatening to take action.”
    “What sort of action?” I asked.
    McKay gave me a hard, scolding look. I held his gaze and repeated my question.
    “What they’ve threatened before,” was McKay’s answer.
    I looked at George.
    “They’ve threatened to come up here and destroy the castle,” George said solemnly.
    “That’s terrible,” I said. “But as long as they only threaten—”
    “Could be they’ll go further this time, miss. They’re in the black mood. Daisy was a good girl, liked by everyone. Might be different if she was killed by some angry young fella who hit her, maybe even shot her. But this is the Devil speaking, George, Satan himself. Pitchfork to the chest, bloody cross carved in her young neck. Like Evelyn Gowdie before her. And the witch, Isabell.”
    “Excuse me,” I said, “but you are the constable.”
    McKay looked quizzically at me.
    “Surely, as Wick’s top law enforcement official, you don’t buy into this notion of witchcraft and Satan.”
    He said nothing.
    “Do you?” I said.
    “I can’t ignore half the citizens, miss.”
    “Half? Half feel this way?”
    “There’s a core that do,” he said. “And they’re very influential. Very influential, indeed. They don’t want trouble in Wick. There’s been enough trouble and hard times to last everybody’s lifetime.”
    I couldn’t resist: “But you’re paid to uphold the law, to keep people like this from reacting with violence.”
    He showed a small, sour smile, painful for him to exhibit. “Easier said than done, miss. Easier said than done.”
    “What are you suggesting, Horace?” asked George.
    “Same thing I’ve suggested before, George. Sell this castle. Give it up. If you do, everything will settle down and Wick can grow. This sort of publidty, pretty young girl killed in a