CHAPTER 38

  

I started the car and pulled onto the small road leading to the inn for the second time that evening. I hoped Fergus and Angus hadn’t already started on their walk back home.

“What are you doing?” Lane asked. “It looks like you’re headed back to the inn.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. I need to ask Fergus and Angus one question. Then I’ll know if I’m right.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think this is about Lug’s Spear instead of your Indian treasure. You were right.”

“That’s not what I’m getting at,” Lane said. “You can’t expect me to walk in there. Someone set me up for a reason. It’ll be better if they don’t know I’m out of jail. I don’t know that it’s such a great idea for you to go back in there, either.”

I swore.

“Pull over,” Lane said.

“We’re not close enough to the inn yet,” I said. “I’ll leave you with the car, but I’m still going back in. I have to ask them—”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Look.”

Sure enough, at a slight bend in the road the headlights bounced off Fergus and Angus, who were walking down the side of the road.

I pulled over and turned to Lane. “You don’t think Fergus and Angus are involved, do you?”

“Well, it’s too late anyway.” He pointed. “They’ve seen us.”

I stepped out of the car. With the headlights off, the night was dark. Fergus and Angus walked without a flashlight. Without heavy coats either. Lane leaned up against the car and lit a cigarette as Fergus and Angus approached. He glanced at me with an inquisitive look, but didn’t speak. My eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight as the two dark figures drew near.

“Break out then, did ye?” Fergus said to Lane with a crooked smile as the two men reached us.

“Ye dunnae say,” Angus said. He took his pipe out from between his lips and looked Lane up and down.

“All a misunderstanding,” Lane replied.

“Told ye, Fergus,” Angus said.

“Ach, ye’ll be winnin’ the wager.”

“Can we give you a lift?” I asked.

“Suppose it’s a bit nippy this evenin’,” Fergus said.

Angus nodded, and we all climbed into the car. Fergus told me where to go.

“I need to ask you a question,” I said.

“Aye?” Fergus said from the backseat.

“Fergus, when you thought I was a dark fairy when you first saw me, was it a specific bean nighe fairy you thought I was?”

“O’course. Ye think I’m daft ‘n go ‘round seein’ fayries everywhere?”

“Tell me about her,” I said.

“Ach, it was the local lass down the way who died givin’ birth to a child. Makin’ her a bean nighe. A wee lass, lookin’ like ye.”

“She means the story o’ the lass,” Angus said.

“Ach, I ken. Ye think I’ll be daft as well, Angus?”

“Well, yer not tellin’ the story to the lass, Fergus, are ye?”

“Ach.”

“Ye’ll need to turn off the road here,” Angus directed me. “Ye see,” he added, “it was a local lass, is why we have our local bean nighe legend.”

“Legend,” Fergus scoffed.

“Let me guess,” I said, stopping the car in front of a cottage that Angus indicated was his. “Was this shortly after 1857?”

I turned toward the backseat and saw Fergus’ wild white eyebrows go up in consternation. “Ach,” he exclaimed, “it’s how I said. She’s one of ‘em! How else would she have figured the year?”

“Tis an interestin’ question, Fergus,” Angus said thoughtfully.

“Why did you think Jaya looked like her?” Lane cut in.

“The portrait,” Fergus said.

“A portrait of the lass was at the Rat & Parrot pub down the way,” Angus added. “They’ll be havin’ the details, Fergus.”

“Ach.”

“Jaya looks like the local woman in this portrait from a hundred and fifty years ago?” Lane asked.

The two men nodded in agreement.

“What was her surname?” I asked.

“Was it McDonald, Angus?” Fergus asked his friend.

“McDonnah.”

“Close enough, eh?”

My heart sank. I had been so sure. But neither McDonnah or McDonald fit my theory. It felt even worse to be let down after feeling as if I had figured it out.

I pulled over where Angus indicated. Both of them stepped out. Fergus was grumbling about Americans not making any sense. He assured me his own home was close by, so there was no need for me to go to the bother of taking him a few yards down the road. I suspected he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in the car with me any longer.

Angus walked up to the door of the charming small cottage, and Fergus started down the dirt road. Angus was turning his doorknob when the idea struck me.

“Angus,” I called out, scrambling out of the car and running up to him. “She died giving birth to a child. So she was married?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

“So McDonnah was her married name.”

Angus scratched his beard and looked me over.

“Do you know her maiden name?” I continued.

“That one I can be sure of. She was a Gregor. That’s why they took back her portrait from the pub, once they opened up that Gregor Estate.”

That settled it. I was right. I rushed back to the car.

“You’re driving,” I said to Lane, pushing him over to the driver’s side.

“I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask why it matters that Fergus thinks you look like one of the Gregors from one hundred and fifty years ago who became part of a fairy legend?”

“One hundred fifty years ago,” I said. “Don’t you see? 1857 was the Sepoy Uprising. That’s how the Rajasthan Rubies made it out of India undetected, and why the treasure hasn’t resurfaced. One of the Gregors did get his hands on the treasure and smuggle it out of the country. The one who built the estate. I know what we’re looking for now: An Indian treasure wrapped up in a Scottish legend.”