13

Why did you send Norman to Lynsey’s house if she’s coming here?” Tallie asked.

“He decided that on his own,” said Christine. “Not your mother’s fault, just her tapsalteerie circus. Help me put the game away and fold this table. Extra chairs back in the kitchen, too, so we look more professional. And you, Janet, tell us what’s going on.”

“Professional what?” Tallie asked.

“Are you forgetting?” Christine asked. “We are the Shadow Constabulary of Nosy Eavesdropping Snoops—S.C.O.N.E.S.”

“The name wasn’t a compliment when Daphne made it up, and it still isn’t,” Tallie said.

“But we showed her,” Janet said. “We solved her murder. Oh, that didn’t sound very nice, did it?”

“Not really.” Tallie dumped tiles from the racks onto the game board and then swiped tiles and racks into the box with one sweep of her arm. “And if this is a matter for the police, then we should get Norman back here.”

Janet recognized the signs of a lawyer daughter blowing off steam. It was venting rather than an eruption, though. Tallie hadn’t reached for her phone to contact Hobbs.

“She’s coming to see us,” Janet said. “Lynsey didn’t know Norman was here and she might not have come if she had known. I must say, I’m surprised he was so blasé about her text.”

“That might’ve been the sherry,” Christine said. “Something to remember if we ever need a malleable constable in future. Och—what are you doing?”

Tallie had marched over and was removing the kitten from Christine’s arms. “I need him. If I have to listen to you two plotting and planning, then he will keep me sane. Do you hear that Butter?” She held the kitten in front of her face. “That’s a lot on your shoulders. These two are relentless. Can you handle it?”

The kitten reached out a paw and patted Tallie’s nose.

“Mental health through moggies. It’s aye the best,” Christine said, adding her own pats to Tallie’s back. “And there’s the door. I’ll go.”

As they heard Christine greet Lynsey and offer to take her coat, Janet leaned close and reassured Tallie. “If we hear anything that Norman needs to know, we’ll call him.”

“Two words, Butter,” Tallie said to the kitten. “Witness tampering.”

“Come ben, come ben,” Christine said, ushering Lynsey into the living room. “Have you met Janet’s daughter? Lynsey Maclennan, Tallie Marsh and friend Butter. You’re not allergic, are you?”

Lynsey touched the kitten’s head and shook her own. “I wish I could have one of my own. Lachy’s never liked them.”

Tallie passed the kitten to Lynsey. “I’ll bring the tea.”

“Come sit down,” Christine said. She sat on the couch next to Smirr, and Lynsey sat at the opposite end.

Tallie came in with a tea tray and set it on a small table. She poured a cup and offered it to Lynsey. Lynsey shook her head. Christine took it and helped herself to cream and sugar.

“Mom?” Tallie held up a cup.

Janet shook her head, too. She sat in her favorite comfy chair. It swiveled so she could look out into the back garden when she liked. She turned now to face their visitor on the couch. Tallie sat in the matching chair.

“Tell us what’s going on, Lynsey,” Janet said. “Why did you call us?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.” Lynsey looked less the sleek whippet ready to race than a miserable, stray ready to cower. Her accent sounded thicker in her misery, and Janet, though she thought of her ear as well-tuned, hoped the sense of Lynsey’s words didn’t disappear into the brogue. “It’s what Rhona said at Nev’s. Did you help solve those murders?”

“We did,” Janet said, “but—”

“Then can you help find Lachy? He’s never this late. Never without phoning or texting.”

“You don’t think he met up with friends and forgot the time?” Christine asked.

“Never without a call or text. He knows what it’s like for me. The charge nurse was the first to miss him.”

“He’s a visiting nurse?”

“District nurse, aye. Drives tremendous distances.”

“My mum was a district nurse,” Christine said. “It gave her great pleasure.”

“Lachy loves getting out to folk who can’t. Loves the driving, too. And he’s a good driver.”

But of course, after Malcolm, she’s thinking about people veering off roads, Janet thought. “You’ve checked with the Road Police?”

“No accidents reported.”

Neither was Malcolm’s. Janet couldn’t bring herself to voice that thought. Instead she asked, “What have the other nurses said?”

“You can read.” Lynsey brought out her phone and jabbed it on with a finger. “When he wasn’t home for tea, I texted the charge nurse and another district nurse, Isla. You’ve met her. There.” She handed the phone to Christine. “Tracey’s the charge nurse.”

“The first question is yours?” Christine asked.

“Aye.”

Christine looked at Janet and Tallie. “I’ll read them out, shall I?”

Lynsey: seen lachy?

Tracey: saw before he left for ardtoe. out of range? lo batt?

Isla: that appt phoned. he was no show

Tracey: news to me

Lynsey: that’s not like him. what about other appts?

Tracey: checking schedule. made his a.m. appts. other p.m. appts cancelled.

Lynsey: then where is he?

Tracey: lucky lachy free afternoon. whoop whoop?

Isla: dinnae fash. he’s lachlann mòr. too big to go missing. he’ll show up

Tracey: dinnae fash

“And that’s the last I heard from anyone,” Lynsey said. “And that’s what they all say. As if dinnae fash ever did anyone any good.”

“Does Lachy ever ‘whoop whoop’? I’m not even sure what I’m asking,” Janet said.

“I’m not sure Lachy would know, either. An evening at Nev’s is about as far whoop as he goes, and that not often. He takes his job seriously, and with all the driving, it wouldn’t do.”

“How long since you heard from him?” Janet asked.

“When he went out the door this morning. I expected him home three hours ago. And really, this isn’t like him. So I waited and I tried not to worry. But then I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“What did you do?” Tallie asked.

“I contacted Lachy’s da and his mate Brian to see did they know anything. Brian said he’d go out along the route Lachy would take to Ardtoe, see if he’d car trouble. It’s a long way to go, but he’s a good mate. He found nothing. And Lachy’s da only asked did I know what was bothering Lachy. Thinks he’s a great psychiatrist. Then I sent a text to Constable Hobbs. Lot of good that did. ‘Sorry to hear that,’ he said. Great eejit.”

“No doubt Constable Hobbs was involved in something that took his full attention and he missed the urgency of the situation,” Christine said.

“Is Lachy’s dad a psychiatrist?” Tallie asked.

“He’s a plumber.”

“Sometimes the same thing,” Christine said.

“Why have you come to us?” Janet asked. “Apart from what Rhona said at Nev’s. What do you hope we can do?”

Lynsey shrank into herself and shook her head. The kitten had abandoned her and gone to curl up with Smirr. Tallie took a knitted throw from the back of her chair and tucked it around Lynsey.

“Would you like a cuppa now?” Tallie asked. “Or a glass of sherry?”

Lynsey shook her head again.

“You said something at Nev’s, too,” Janet said. “Do you remember? We were talking about Malcolm Murray, and you said, ‘I said it would happen.’ What did you mean?”

“I told Lachy.”

“Told him what?” Janet pressed.

“Just that. I said it would happen. He believed me. He always does. He didn’t want me to go on the ride. But it wasn’t me who had to worry. I told Lachy that, too, and I stayed well away from Malcolm.”

Janet felt the hair stand up on her arms.

“Did you know how it would happen?” Tallie asked.

“No, thank heaven. Can you imagine knowing a thing like that?”

“Do you always know when something like that is going to happen?” Christine asked.

“Again, thank heaven, no.”

“Well,” Janet said, stirring herself. “Let’s be practical now, and we’ll try to work through this puzzle. To be completely practical, we probably can’t do much outside in the dark tonight. Not immediately anyway, but we can start with more questions. Is that all right?”

“Aye.”

“Not to worry you unduly,” Christine said, “but have you called hospitals?”

“No. People at area hospitals know him. I’d have heard.”

“We should phone anyway,” Janet said. “But the questions first, and with very good luck, before we’re finished, you’ll have heard from him. A list would be good so we can keep track of everything we cover. Tallie?”

“Pen and paper coming up.” Tallie went into the kitchen and came back with a notebook and pen. “Is a list okay, Lynsey? It might be upsetting.”

“Can you imagine what’s already been running through my head? Here’s part of it. You can start the list with these: phone died, car died, he died.”

“From benign to horrifying in six words,” Tallie said.

“Aye. So whatever else you put on it, this list can’t be much worse than that. You can add he ran off on his own or with someone, but I don’t believe that one at all.”

Tallie added “ran off” to the list anyway. With suggestions from each of them, the list grew:

Phone died

Car died

He died

Ran off

Still with a patient, unable to phone

Car trouble on side road or farm track, unable to phone

Went off road, can’t be seen, unable to phone

Health crisis, unable to phone

In hospital, unrecognized, no ID, unable to phone

Met up with friends, unable to phone

Fell asleep at a movie

Took a hike, fell, unable to phone

Kidnapped

Held captive by patient

“Let me see it,” Lynsey said. Tallie handed it to her and they watched her read it over. She flicked it with a finger when she’d finished. “These two—movies or a hike—they don’t sound like my Lachy. Still with a patient is more like him.”

“Could that be what’s happened?” Janet asked.

“Of all of these, that’s what I want it to be. He’s that committed to the job. But after all this time? All afternoon and evening? I reckon it’s possible, and I still like that better than the other. These last two make me laugh, but.”

“That was partly my intention in adding them,” Christine said. “Mind, truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.”

“You’ve not met him, have you?” Lynsey’s eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t since she’d arrived. “He’s Lachlann Mòr. Have you ever been to the games? He’s champion at all the heavy events—caber, stone, sheaf. Kidnap Lachlann Mòr? I’d like to see the numpty who’d try.” She thought for a moment and then asked Tallie to add something else to the list. “Attacked by gang.”

“Does he know gangs?” Christine asked.

“He’s a nurse. He carries medications. They might know him.”

“When was the last time you tried texting or calling him?” Tallie asked.

“Just before I knocked on your door. In case I could turn my bike round and ride back home and find him there. I left another message, too. He’ll think I’ve gone mental if he gets them all.”

“He’ll thank you for your worries,” Janet said. “But you rode here in the dark?”

“We’ve only the one car.” Lynsey picked up her phone from where it lay next to her on the couch. She swiped and tapped the screen, held it to her ear. “Ringing, ringing, ringing.” She let the phone drop to her lap and hugged herself.

“Where was he last seen?” Tallie asked. “Where was his last appointment?”

“I dinnae ken. Before he left this morning, he said something about a visit on Achnamuck.”

“We’ve heard that name recently.” Christine looked at Janet.

“When you were asking about the Mull Eigg Road the other morning,” Janet said. She felt funny being secretive about the circumstances of that discussion with Hobbs, but also didn’t want to get sidetracked.

“I remember,” Christine said. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the place, though. Where is Achnamuck?”

“Not a place,” Lynsey said. “A road. Out of the way for traveling on to Ardtoe, if that’s where he was going next. That’s the way the job is, though. Lachy didn’t mind.”

Janet wondered if Lynsey realized she’d just said didn’t instead of doesn’t. And what did that mean? Christine was looking at Janet. She’d noticed the slip, too.

A knock came at the back door, and Janet nearly shot straight up to the ceiling.

“What’s Ian Atkinson doing here?” Lynsey asked.

The others stared at her, and Janet felt the hair on her arms rise for the second time that night. “How do you know it’s Ian?” she asked.

Lynsey pointed. “There’s a gap in your curtains there. He’s looking in. He just waved.” She waved back. “He knows Lachy. He was kind when he came and interviewed him for one of his books.”

“Ian?” Christine said.

“Aye. About veterans and the problems of suicide. Some of Lachy’s patients are vets.”

“I keep forgetting Ian’s only an ass in real life,” Christine said. “Get him behind a pen or a typewriter and the man has a brain in his head.”

“Maybe he’s heard something,” Lynsey said. “Shall I let him in?”

Tallie got up. “I’ll go. I’ll bring him up to speed so you don’t have to go through it all again.” As she passed Janet—with her back to Lynsey—she growled a whisper through clenched teeth, “I’ll warn him not to spill about Norman being here.”

They heard Tallie open the back door and Ian’s greeting, but over the top of him they heard Tallie. “Oh my gosh, the stars! Ian, come on, you have to see. They’re astounding!”

They heard confused noises from Ian and the back door close. Janet pictured how Tallie must have grabbed his arm to drag him back outside for a rundown on the situation with Lachy and a fierce warning not to mention Hobbs’s visit. She also thought Tallie had leaned on the first syllable of astounding with more force than strictly necessary, but with obvious satisfaction.

The back door opened again and a slightly wary Ian followed Tallie into the living room. But he rallied at the sight of Lynsey, and the bestselling novelist, who yet saw himself as a leading man, went to her with his hands out to take both of hers, and with a catch in his voice, said:

“Linda, my dear, I saw you arrive on your bicycle, and I would have been over sooner, but I had something in the oven. How are you holding up? We’ll hope for the best rather than the worst, shall we?”

The cats, either reacting to the approach of Ian’s hands, the catch in his voice, or the cologne he’d used rather liberally, left the couch and slunk from the room. Lynsey reacted the way a young woman under a great deal of stress and faced with sudden, smarmy, tone-deaf solicitude might be expected to. She fell apart. Ian froze, alarm on his face, then shrank back, and Janet found herself feeling sorrier for him than Lynsey. The tears would do Lynsey good, but Ian’s leading man visions must not have factored in being faced with the raw emotions of real life.

“Sit here, Ian. Take my chair.” Janet got up and shooed him toward it.

“But what did I do?” he whined. “Was it something I said?”

“For starters, her name is Lynsey, not Linda.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, Ian. And she thought, hoped, you might have heard something helpful about her husband. If you hadn’t mentioned ‘the worst,’ you might have helped. She’ll be all right, though. She’ll settle down. She’s strong and Christine knows what she’s doing.”

Christine had scooted across the couch. Lynsey now sat with her head on Christine’s shoulder. Tallie had brought her a box of tissues.

Janet’s sympathy for Ian trickled away with his continued clueless gaping. With the last of her goodwill, she finally got him to sit. “It’s the most comfortable chair in the house. And it’ll be best if you don’t say anything more, don’t you think? You can observe and Lynsey will appreciate the support of your continued presence.” Having run her reservoir of sympathy dry, Janet leaned close and cowed him further with a reminder. “Not a word about seeing Constable Hobbs here earlier or you’re out the door. Got it?”

Ian mimed zipping his lips. He resettled the shoulders of his camel jacket with a couple of shrugs, tugged his sleeves and cuffs into place, flipped lank hair from his forehead, and crossed his legs—and he’d made a complete return to authorial elegance. Janet would have laughed but for the circumstances.

Tallie gave Janet her chair and sat on an ottoman. Christine had made good progress calming Lynsey—speaking quietly, letting the tears finish, and then letting her pull herself together. When Lynsey was ready to talk, Christine scooted back to her place again to give Lynsey space.

“What now?” Lynsey asked after wiping her nose one last time.

“Have you tried contacting Isla or the charge nurse again?” Janet asked.

“I told you. The texts were the last I heard from them.”

“You did tell us that, but have you tried contacting them again?” Janet asked.

“Or are there other nurses who might know something?” Tallie asked.

“Not Isla. I left a message for Tracey.”

“You haven’t tried Isla or you don’t think she’ll be able to help beyond ‘dinnae fash’?” Christine asked.

“Aye, that’s about right.”

“Which one?”

“Both.” Lynsey looked at her phone again, put it down, and clutched the top of her head.

“Is Lachy’s dad right about something bothering him?” Tallie asked.

Lynsey’s hands moved from the top of her head to her cheeks. She spoke to her lap. “Lachy’s conscientious. He cares for his patients. Above and beyond. He’s the best thing that’s happened to some of them in years.”

Which either is or isn’t an answer, Janet thought.

“You said some of his patients are veterans,” Tallie said. “Is one of them Gerald Murray?”

“He takes their privacy seriously,” Lynsey said. “I know a few. It can’t be helped. But I’m not sure I should tell you who they are.”

“At a time like this, it might make a difference. Gerald is a vet. He just lost his brother. If he were having a bad time, would Lachy stay with him, help him through?”

“But why wouldn’t he let me know? Or answer a text or call? Or let Tracey know there’s some kind of emergency?”

“You know him better that we do,” Christine said. “Better than anyone. Maybe he’s there and hoping you’ll understand. Is that a possibility? If not with Gerald, maybe another patient?”

“What’s Gerald like?” Lynsey asked. “I saw him come into Nev’s, but I don’t know him.”

“If I may?” Ian asked quietly. “Gerald Murray is a fine man. I’m glad to know him. If he needs help, and if that’s where Lachlann is, then they’re both in good hands.”

“Thank you for that,” Lynsey said.

“I think,” Janet said, “that we’ve come to a point where there’s not much more we can do this evening—except call Constable Hobbs again.”

Lynsey nodded.

“There is one thing, though,” Janet said. “This might sound rather odd, but did Malcolm Murray carry anything with him during the ride on Sunday, or at any other time, that someone else would want? That someone would take or look for?”

“I told you. I stayed away from him during the ride.”

Bagpipes started playing “Flower of Scotland” on the phone in her lap. Everyone but Lynsey jumped. She stared at it.

“It’s not Lachy. Not his ringtone.”

“Go on and answer it,” Christine said. “Or shall I?”

Lynsey picked it up and answered and then put a hand over it and whispered, “It’s Constable Hobbs.” She put the phone back to her ear. “Sorry, aye. Can you not wait there? I can be home in ten minutes.” She listened and then disconnected, looking confused. “He said not to bother. Then he rang off.”

Immediately after, someone gave the wolf’s head at the front door three banging knocks. Before anyone could get up to answer, they heard the door open and a familiar constabularial tread. At the sound of a second set of feet, Janet felt a flood of relief—Lachlann Mòr. But wouldn’t he have phoned himself?

She looked at Lynsey, expecting to see hope there, too, maybe spilling over into relieved tears, but then Norman Hobbs stepped into the room. Janet had only a moment to register his somber face before he moved aside and she saw the man with parade ground posture behind him—Inspector Reddick.

Janet, Tallie, and Christine knew Reddick and liked him. He was quiet, personable, and the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to his professional dedication. He was also a member of a Major Investigation Team from the Specialist Crime Division of Police Scotland. Whether Lynsey knew it or not, Reddick’s presence shut down most avenues of hope for a happy reunion with her husband.

“Good evening. We’re sorry to intrude,” Reddick said. He held up a leather wallet with his warrant card. “Are you Mrs. Maclennan?” he asked Lynsey. “I’m Inspector Reddick. I believe you know Constable Hobbs. We’d like a word in private. Would you like to come with us?”

“No.” Lynsey’s anguished syllable clearly wasn’t directed at either Reddick or Hobbs. She turned her face away from them, drew her legs up, pulled her knees to her chest and started rocking. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Whatever news you’ve brought, she needs someone to lean on.” Christine moved over again and put her arm around Lynsey.

“Mrs. Maclennan, can we call anyone for you?” Reddick asked.

Lynsey burrowed into Christine. Christine wrapped the throw around Lynsey’s shoulders and stroked her back. “You’ll get through this, hen. We dinnae ken what it is, though, do we?” To Reddick, she said, “You need to tell her.”

Hobbs went through to the kitchen and brought back a chair. Perhaps he and Reddick had made a plan before arriving. They exchanged slight nods and then Reddick stepped back. Hobbs placed the chair in front of Lynsey and sat so that if she let her knees go, they might have touched his. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his fists, and waited for a moment before speaking.

“It pains me to bring you this news, but your husband has been found, Mrs. Maclennan. Tha mi duilich. I am sorry.”

“How?” Lynsey asked.

“We came to you first,” Hobbs said to Lynsey. “Is there anyone else we should talk to? Is there anyone we can phone for you?”

She sat up, put her feet on the floor, and pulled the throw tightly around her. Hobbs hadn’t moved so they sat knees to knees, and now her eyes didn’t leave his face. To Janet, Lynsey’s eyes looked fevered, devoid of hope. Janet couldn’t see Hobbs’s eyes, but his back, the slight tilt of his head, his even breathing, were calm and solid.

“I want to know how,” Lynsey said.

Hobbs and everyone else looked at Reddick. Janet glanced at Ian. It was interesting to see him serious and still, possibly thinking of someone other than himself.

“The investigation is ongoing,” Reddick said.

“Rubbish.” Lynsey looked back at Hobbs. “Have you seen him? May I go to him?”

“It’s best you come with us now,” Hobbs said. He stood and held out a hand.

“Tell them it’s all rubbish,” Lynsey said, turning to Christine.

“They’re right, though,” Christine said. “Would you like any of us to come with you, Lynsey?”

“No.” Lynsey unwound herself from the throw. Then, ignoring Hobbs’s hand and muttering something that sounded like “great eejit,” she walked ahead of the two policemen to the front door.

Janet and Christine followed.

Hobbs turned and saw them. “Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Robertson, you’ll not be coming with us.”

“No, Norman, we’ll be closing and locking the door behind you,” Janet said.

“Very wise, Mrs. Marsh.” Reddick opened the door. “You never know who might be wandering your neighborhood breaking and entering.”

“Or knocking and entering,” Christine said.

“We can leave your car here, Mrs. Maclennan,” Reddick said. “I’ll send someone round to fetch it for you.” The flash of humor Janet had seen in his eyes at Christine’s remark was there and gone.

“I’ve my bike,” Lynsey asked. “How are we going? Can we take it with us? And where’s Lachy’s car? Will someone bring it round? Or take me to it?”

“Can we fit the bike, Constable?” Reddick asked.

“I’m sorry, no.”

“I’ll put it in back with mine,” Janet said. “Is the bike locked, Lynsey?”

Lynsey didn’t answer.

The bike stood beside the front path. Hobbs went to look it over. “It’s not.”

“We’ll bring it round tomorrow,” Christine said.

“Kind of you,” said Reddick.

Hobbs gave them a considering look but said nothing more, and then he went to the car parked in front of the house. Reddick put a hand on Lynsey’s elbow and walked with her to the car. He opened the rear door for her and then got in the front passenger seat.