His Susan had always been a lovely baker. There was no sweetness in her nature these days and Percy had the sudden notion that it all went into her cakes and puddings.
—Ann Cleeves, The Moth Catcher
The next morning, the phone trilled, waking me from a deep sleep. For a moment, after patting the bed beside me, checking for Nathan’s familiar and comforting form, I had no idea where I was or why I was alone. Slowly the events of the last few days filtered in. Though I didn’t recognize the number on the phone’s screen, it was definitely Scottish. I punched “Accept.”
“Hayley? Hayley Snow?” asked a quavering woman’s voice.
I mustered a firm response. “Who’s calling?
“This is Bettina, Bettina Booth of Peebles?”
The picture of the two sad old women materialized in my mind. “Of course,” I said, sitting up and gathering the bedclothes around me. “How can I help?”
“We were up in Joseph’s room yesterday, to find something from his college days to put in the casket, and we got to talking about how to tackle ridding out our poor Joseph’s belongings, which just about broke my sister’s heart, I tell you. We had to stop and rest so she could have a cup of tea. But then I found something in his briefcase that looked important, and I thought to call you. It was an article in the Sunday arts section of The Scotsman a few weeks ago. Something about a new book expected to come out early next winter. He had underlined lots of sections and put exclamation points and written “You’ve got to be kidding me’ along the margins.”
“What was the book about?” I asked, although I had a sinking feeling I already knew.
“It’s to be called Bloody Swords or some such cod swaddle. And it’s supposed to pertain to experiencing the thin places of Scotland through technology. Double-speak all of it, you want my opinion.”
“Had your nephew been involved in anything like this?”
“No,” she said slowly, “but he was always good with computers. He was very proud of a project he dreamed up about making the past seem more like a film than a book. We never exactly understood it because he was so smart, and his ideas were over our heads. A wizard, really. Shall I read you the paragraph that he had circled and highlighted?”
“That would be wonderful. Let me get a piece of paper.” I rolled out of bed and grabbed the notepad supplied by the hotel.
She read through a paragraph describing my sister-in-law’s project. “Here’s the part he seemed to have some objections to. And I quote:
Gavin Findlay, professor of computer science and photography at the University of Saint Andrews, is the lead author on the project. Others in the field have described him as an intellectual powerhouse.
She paused and I could hear papers rustling. “Next to that he scribbled something that I can’t quite make out. Along the lines of ‘thieving scum bastard.’ And I apologize deeply for the bad language.”
“No need. I’m not sure what it means, but it may turn out to be helpful,” I said. “Thanks for ringing me back. Did you by any chance have any more thoughts about his broken heart? Maybe you’ve remembered a girl that he mentioned from time to time?” I thought of asking about a boy, but if that would make the women more distraught, what would be the point? “Did you ever hear him mention the name Ainsley?”
“There was a girl he talked about, Anne maybe? It was so long ago. I couldn’t say for certain.”
I thanked her again and dressed quickly, then packed my belongings into my suitcase and headed downstairs to breakfast. This new information made me worry that Gavin had killed poor Mr. Booth. He was definitely invested in his version of reality and quite capable of giving someone a push off that wheel. And if Ainsley was an old friend of Booth’s, she might be in danger too. Would that explain the poisonous leaves in the salad the night of her dinner party? Grace hadn’t mentioned Gavin coming into the kitchen, but Glenda had been there for sure. And she might be the kind of woman who’d do anything for her husband.
Miss Gloria was already at our table, tucking into a big plate of eggs, sausage, fried tomatoes, and baked beans. Ainsley and Helen had settled in on either side of her and were peppering her with questions about how she was feeling.
“A good night’s sleep and a big breakfast cures about all ills,” she said, though I thought the dark smudges under her eyes suggested something different.
Ainsley stood up to leave as I sat across from them. “The ferry from Oban leaves at noon for the Isle of Mull, our second-to-last stop,” she said. “It will take an hour or so to drive from here to there. And Vera will need to be in the automobile loading line at least an hour ahead. There’s a lovely bookshop and plenty of fish and chips to be found in town while you’re waiting. We’ll see you on the ferry?” She pointed to Glenda and Gavin as they rolled their suitcases to the lobby.
Our car was quiet on the first part of the way to Oban, where the ferry would carry us to Mull. I had hoped we would be able to get Vera talking, but so far, she had batted away any attempts at conversation as if she were playing badminton and my questions were plastic birdies. Why wouldn’t she talk about what she thought was going on? She was clearly bothered by something.
“How did you feel the meeting with the publisher went?” her mother asked, as if hunting for a neutral subject. Which this clearly was not.
Vera glanced over, her lips set. “Unmitigated disaster. With a dash of full-blown hysteria thrown in. He’s worried, as he should be, about Gloria’s bad reaction to the goggles. Gavin tried to assure him that her response was idiosyncratic because she feels such a powerful connection to her tribe.”
“So true,” said Miss Gloria. “I’m sensitive that way. I truly have no plans to sue. Our society is lawsuit mad, and all that does is line the pockets of the lawyers.”
Vera nodded, perhaps looking a bit relieved. “He’s loath to change anything because preorders have already been so high. People are not traveling lightly these days—they choose their destinations very carefully and travel less frequently than they might have in the past. He is convinced that providing the goggles along with the book will give readers a sense of real history and real place. Or should we call them ‘gamers’ rather than ‘readers’ in this case?”
“Have you changed your mind about Gavin’s concept?” I asked, a bit dumbfounded to hear her describe it as a done deal. Had she given up trying to change the direction of what she hated about the project? Although referring to readers as ‘gamers’ would not support that theory.
“Trying to be realistic,” she snapped back, her voice seething.
We drove a few more miles in silence.
“Will you tell us about the Isle of Mull?” Miss Gloria asked.
I watched as Vera made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders, which were hunched up around her ears. This trip, which should have been delightful, was turning into a nightmare. And I regretted that this was my first introduction to Nathan’s sister and hoped that she wouldn’t refuse to either visit us or have us return to Scotland under less stressful circumstances.
She smiled at Miss Gloria in her rearview mirror. “It’s the most beautiful, tranquil, glorious place, though often windy and wet this time of year. I checked the weather, and it seems we may get lucky.”
“We already are lucky,” said Miss Gloria, gesturing at the green fields we were passing.
“True,” said Vera, smiling again. “The only way around the island is crossing on a one-lane road. You will see that tomorrow when we drive to the tiny ferry that takes us to Iona. The locals know when to pull over to let others pass. There are enough designated pull-offs, but unfortunately the tourists don’t know the etiquette. And if you don’t know the ropes, it can be a little hairy. Other than that, you’ll see thousands of sheep, and animals that the locals call ‘Heilan Coos.’”
“Koos?” Miss Gloria asked.
“Rustic long-haired Highland cows, in normal English. They are shaggy and reddish-brown and have big horns and big brown eyes. We’ll spend tonight in the town of Tobermory, which is absolutely adorable. You’ll see. It almost looks like a Scandinavian town, with the brightly painted homes and shops curving around the shoreline. And with any luck, you’ll meet the orange tomcat who owns the village.”
Once we reached the port of Oban, Vera queued up with the other drivers waiting to be loaded on the ferry. The rest of us walked the short distance to town. The day had turned blustery and cool, making our first plan of sitting out in the sun on the benches overlooking the harbor seem less appealing. Instead, Miss Gloria browsed a gift shop with Helen while I circulated around the stacks of books in the store adjoining. I chose a romantic comedy by Jenny Colgan that took place in the Highlands, thinking a happy love story, instead of a real murder mystery, would be relaxing.
I met them outside on the sidewalk. “A spot of lunch?”
“Do either of you get seasick?” asked Helen. “Because fish and chips might not be the best choice in that case.”
Miss Gloria and I snickered, and I assumed that she too was thinking about the meals we’d downed in all kinds of weather on Houseboat Row.
“We have iron stomachs,” she said, pointing at the sky. “Onward.”
We ordered three boxes of chips and fish cakes from a carry-out shop and stood at a bar facing the water to gobble them down. A pair of seagulls landed next to me, eying my scraps.
“Do you think we should have saved something for Vera?” I asked looking at the few chips left in my box.
“I checked. She insisted she wasn’t hungry,” Helen said. “We did have a substantial breakfast, but I think she’s worried about this week and her book.”
“Since when is hunger the criterion for choosing a meal anyway?” Miss Gloria asked, grinning, her lips shiny with grease.
“What’s our plan of attack on this ferry ride?” asked Helen.
“I think we have to play it by ear, depending on who we can find alone,” I said. “No one’s going to tell any secrets if the others are around.” I explained to Miss Gloria what we learned about Joseph Booth from his family and from Nathan. And then I told both of them about the phone call from Bettina this morning, including Joseph’s notes in the margins of the article about the book, and my suspicions about Gavin’s involvement.
“You were certain you didn’t see anything right before he fell from the wheel?” Helen asked Miss Gloria.
“Nothing,” she said. “And yesterday, after that stunt with the goggles, I was preoccupied. I haven’t been paying attention to the interactions in this group the way you two have.”
“Obviously,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We would never expect that. Do you mind telling us about the glasses again? How did you happen to be trying them on?”
“Take your time and tell us as many details about what you remember as you can,” Helen added. “Even if they seem silly. Where were you standing and where were they?
“I was standing right beside the mossy stone wall that was part of a MacDonald clan home. It was such a strange sensation because I felt as though I had a foot in each world. The lady who used to live in that house was welcoming me at the same time the others were squabbling about …” Her words dropped off.
We waited a few minutes, and then I nudged her gently. “Squabbling about?” I left the question open, hoping she could fill in the blanks.
“Wait, I remember overhearing something said between Glenda and Gavin right before they offered to let me try the goggles on. I wasn’t listening because I was so wrapped up in my sensations. And then those goggles derailed me completely.”
“Of course,” said Helen. “And you don’t have to tell us if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I had the sense that Glenda wanted him to cut the other two loose. But he was balking, insisting that Martin, the publisher, loved Vera’s writing. And then he said that without Ainsley the project would disintegrate from lack of organization. And aside from all that, it was way too late in the publication process to make major changes. And Glenda got annoyed. More than annoyed—outraged. And she asked if there was something between him and Ainsley again that he hadn’t bothered to mention. That’s when he noticed me and asked if I wanted to try the goggles.”
“Was Ainsley with them?” Helen asked.
“Honestly, I did not see Ainsley all morning. Not that I was trying to keep track of her, so I wouldn’t go to the bank with that memory,” Miss Gloria said. “And the rest was history. Ugly brutal history.” She dabbed her face with a napkin and carried her empty box to a nearby trash can.
The alarm on my phone went off, reminding us to return to the ferry. “I’m going to try very hard to talk with Ainsley on the ride over. It shouldn’t be so difficult, because she seems to be putting a little distance between herself and the others.”
Helen said, “Fine, I’ll keep working on my daughter, though heaven knows that is unlikely to produce anything useful.” She lowered her voice as we approached the line for the ferry. “Do not go off alone with Ainsley, because I don’t like the way things are adding up. Or at the very least, pointing in her direction. Last thing we need is someone else getting thrown overboard.”
I thought she must be mostly joking, but the warning struck me hard. I couldn’t wait to rejoin the guys and share the load of worry with Nathan. We managed to score a bench seat on the top deck at the front of the ferryboat, from which we’d be able to see a grand panorama of the scenery. I went to the snack bar to get cups of tea for all three of us. As I carried the cardboard carton back, I spotted Ainsley sitting by herself in the far corner.
I was about to approach her, when the captain’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker, instructing passengers to take their seats as the waters were expected to be slightly choppy. I returned to my group with the drinks. We pulled out of the harbor, enjoying the wide vista of gray-blue seas and passing clouds. Once we had settled into the rhythm of the slap of waves against the boat, the captain spoke again, explaining that the ride would take approximately forty-six minutes and that the snack bar would remain open until the final ten minutes of the trip.
Having finished my tea, I got up to use the ladies’ room and try for a chat with Ainsley. She was absorbed in reading something on her iPad, with headphones on. Her message was pretty clear: do not disturb. I slid into the seat next to her anyway.
She looked up, annoyance flitting across her face, and then she mustered a smile.
“Are you enjoying the trip so far?” she asked.
“Other than the kerfuffle with Miss Gloria and the headphones, it’s been absolutely lovely. Spectacular. You live in the most stunning country.”
“We think so as well,” she said. “I’m very sorry about Gloria. I wish I could have been close by to head that off. Is she all right this morning?”
“She’ll bounce back,” I said. “She’s a sensitive soul.” It was difficult to decide what and how to ask her next. So many bits and pieces of the project were going off the rails. How could I possibly get her to confide in me?
“I hope you don’t mind me saying that you seem tense. If there’s any way I can help smooth things over, I’d be happy to.” Now I was simply yammering about whatever came to mind, hoping something would catch her attention. Why in the world would she ever think I could help with her colleagues? I plowed onward.
“I hate meeting Vera for the first time and seeing her so worried as well. And your dinner was utterly amazing—it was criminal to have that ruined.”
She pressed her lips together, gazed at her lap. “It’s been very hard,” she said finally. “I suppose one never quite knows what it will be like to work with someone when one starts out as casual friends. And I certainly did not realize how rivalrous Glenda was.”
“Rivalrous?” I repeated, trying to sound interested but not nosy.
“She sees competition for Gavin everywhere she looks. Has she looked at him lately? He’s let himself go and get fat.” She snickered. “Though with men it’s different, isn’t it? Sex appeal comes from success and power, which is not true of our fair sex. We must remain willowy or risk being cast aside. Anyway, that fat comment was a rude thing to say, and I retract it.”
“Do you suppose she’s worried about him as a man or him as the writer, photographer, and leader of the pack?”
Ainsley laughed again. “I suppose I haven’t actually spoken with her about that question to be able to tell you accurately, but from the way she sticks so close to him, I’m going to say all of the above. But to be fair, this is a stressful time for all of us. We are down so close to the wire with the due date, and there is so much undecided.”
“In a nutshell, Vera wants to cut out the virtual reality part of the project? And Gavin and Glenda want to beef it up? Is that fair to say? Where do you stand?” I asked.
She straightened her shoulders and sat up taller. “Vera is a very dear friend, but I’m trying very hard not to take sides. I am not on the artistic end of the project. I am focused on logistics.”
“Logistics?”
“Organizing, editing, designing the layout—like that.” She tapped the iPad that she had been studying before I sat down.
And I took that to mean she needed to get back to work. Fair enough.
“One last thing: you mentioned Glenda being rivalrous. I’m curious about what Glenda dreamed of becoming while she was in college? I have a good image of you as an artist and Vera the writer, but I haven’t figured Glenda out.”
Ainsley looked surprised. And uncomfortable. “To tell you the truth, we weren’t close in the last couple years of college, so I can’t answer that. She came from family money, and I don’t think that helped her focus. Then she hitched her star to Gavin, and she seems quite content with that choice. We only got back in touch because of this project.”
“If I could ask you one last, quick question, did you know the man who fell to his death? Mr. Joseph Booth?” I thought a look of pain passed over her face. But she hid it just as quickly.
“We all knew him at least a little bit back at University.”
Which was not what Vera had said.
Ainsley continued, “I don’t think he had what it took to become a professor, and it was difficult for him to realize that. So he left—or was asked to leave. I couldn’t say which. End of story as far as I knew it.”
I simply didn’t believe she was telling the truth. But on the other hand, I had poked and prodded and gotten not much in return. Time to retreat and maybe try again from another angle later.
“I really hope that our presence has not made the project harder. We will do our best to stay out of your way over the next couple days.”
“Oh no,” she said. “Vera is thrilled that all of you are here. And honestly, I think it shores her up to have friends and family around. She probably hasn’t told you, but this is around the anniversary of the attack and abduction. She always falls apart a bit at this time of year. And unfortunately, that makes her judgment suspect too.”
“Judgment?”
She shrugged. “I’ve said enough.”
I thanked her again for talking with me and pulled open the heavy side door so I could step outside to get a breath of fresh diesel-scented air. The engine was loud, and I let the noise wash over me as I watched the water rush by and the spit of land approach in the distance. This gave me a few moments to absorb both what Ainsley had said and how she’d said it. Someone was flat-out lying, either Grace or Ainsley. Either Joseph Booth had come to Ainsley’s home, and then she’d spent the evening alone sobbing, as Grace had told me last night. Or he hadn’t and she didn’t. As for Vera, now I had to wonder why she’d lied about not knowing Joseph Booth. And I also wondered why she was willing to talk to Ainsley about her traumatic abduction years ago, and yet say nothing to her family.
By the time I returned to our seats in the front of the ferry, my mind was pretty much made up. Ainsley was lying. If Joseph Booth had really visited her home as Grace described, then she had to have known him in a more personal way than merely as a washed-up teaching assistant. Maybe Nathan could have a heart-to-heart talk with her once we got to the town of Tobermory. He was a real detective, after all, and had his clever and sometimes scary ways of squeezing information out of people that I did not.
Miss Gloria and Helen waited for me at our spot, and my friend was vibrating with excitement.
“I had such a good chat with Glenda on the way back from the ladies’ room,” she said. “I didn’t plan on it, because I know you wouldn’t have approved, but we met up at the sinks at the same time. She was so solicitous about how I was doing and also quite interested in what my experience had been like. She said that Gavin felt dreadful about how distressed I was and that they both would love to hear more about exactly what happened to me so they could make a proper decision about the project. She said the last thing they wanted was to be reckless.” She paused to look at me. “Bet you never expected something like that from her, did you?”
“No, I did not. I thought they would have control of what a person experiences using their goggles, but it doesn’t sound like it worked that way for you,” I said.
“So true. I told her it’s like their instrument set off a time travel experience for me, which was completely unexpected and quite traumatic. Then she wanted me to explain this to Gavin, I suppose so he can fix it. So we walked back to where Gavin was sitting with their stuff, and I ended up telling them everything about the Campbells and the MacDonalds. They were fascinated about my special connection to Scotland. Even though they’ve known for over a year, and maybe more, that they’re writing a book about thin places, it’s like in some strange way they didn’t really understand what that meant. Can you imagine?”
“No, I cannot,” Helen and I said in unison.
Something seemed fishy with this conversation, but we’d have the whole afternoon to sort that out. The captain announced that we’d be docking shortly. All walk-on passengers should gather their luggage and be prepared to disembark and meet their vehicles and drivers on the road. I offered to take Miss Gloria’s bag, but she insisted she could handle it. We started toward the exit and filed down the stairway, our rolling suitcases thunking behind us on the metal steps.
“And Gavin told me about a big and bloody battle involving John MacDonald and his son Angus that happened near the harbor where we’re headed, so I shouldn’t be surprised if I feel some twinges there as well,” added Miss Gloria once we’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “And as I was leaving, I said I appreciated their concern, and maybe it would be the right thing to pause the development of the goggles in order to conduct a scientific test to somehow make sure people aren’t damaged by the experience.”
A smart idea, but I very much doubted they would go for it. Not from what I’d been observing. In my mind, Gavin and Glenda were a pair of steamrollers flattening every objection on their path.
“Meanwhile, what were you up to?” Miss Gloria asked.
Luckily, we were distracted by our arrival at the gangplank before I started to answer, because then I noticed that Ainsley was right behind us. It would have been a horrible faux pas and a total bush league move to talk about her while she was in earshot. Particularly if she had in fact been involved with Mr. Booth’s murder—if it was a murder. That would be dumb, rude, and downright dangerous.
“See you in Tobermory,” she called cheerfully when we exited the gangplank. “You are going to adore the Tobermory Hotel. We’ll meet you in the bar after six.”
We waved her off, then trotted to Vera’s car, parked further up the road. The sky had turned gray again, and gusts of wind blew needles of rain into our faces. As we loaded into the car, Miss Gloria and me in back and Helen up front with her daughter, I wondered whether we should discuss my questions about the murder on the way to Tobermory. I wanted to talk more with Helen and Miss Gloria; the question was whether to mention anything in front of Vera. As Nathan had warned me before we left for the trip, she seemed fragile. Which did make sense considering Ainsley’s comment about the anniversary of her abduction. And to be quite honest, I was a tiny bit afraid of her, same as I still was of Nathan’s mom. Even though I was growing to admire and possibly even love my mother-in-law at the same time, the whole family was a tiny bit intimidating.
They were clearly cut from the same cloth as my Nathan, with their careful Southern coolness masked by a veneer of friendliness. Although something had gone awry in this family with that Southern trait; they behaved more like New Englanders than anything else. Like my father’s parents, whom we’d visited twice a year in Boston. Once you broke through the thick layer of coolness, the love and the fire and protectiveness underneath were powerful. But breaking through? Not so easy.
Looking back over our short history, I had to wonder what had led me to choose Nathan. He was not an easy match for me. Though to be honest again, who was? Big loser Chad Lutz who invited me to move in with him and six weeks later booted me to the curb with my stuff and my cat? Or how about slightly milquetoast Wally, who couldn’t decide whether he was in or out, while I was foolish enough to stick around to watch him waffle? Miss Gloria had helped me out of that mess. And now that she might be in a mess, I needed to return the favor for sure.
I felt the weight of her head drop onto my shoulder and then heard a faint snore. That answered the question—we could discuss what I’d learned from Ainsley later.