Page 20 of Death on a Scottish Train

I turned so she didn’t see me smile.

“And do not start with that woman of a certain age business, lass. I’m not that old.”

“Even I would not dare to pick up a pair of skates,” I said.

“We’ll luv, you aren’t me. And I used to do it all the time when I was younger. I’m good at it. And it’s easier on the joints than walking.”

“Not if you break said joints,” I grumbled.

“I’m certain it’s just a sprain.”

I gently probed her wrist with my fingers.

She winced.

The deep contusions were already forming, and it was swollen.

“I’m going to have Abigail take some X-rays. Even a hairline fracture can cause a great deal of pain if it doesn’t heal properly.”

She sighed.

I pushed the button on the tablet for Abigail to come in, and she came through the door a few seconds later.

“I want full posterior, anterior, and lateral views,” I said. “And let’s get these skates off her. I have some slippers she can borrow to get home.”

I pointed my pen at her. “No matter what the tests say, no more roller blading. Before you decide what you want to try next, come by and check with me first.”

“Well, I wanted to do one of those stripper pole classes, but there are none in the area.”

A strangled sound came from Abigail, who had knelt to take off the skates.

I had to turn away again to hide my laughter. I cleared my throat. “Well, maybe we can go over the activities available at the senior center. They have a wide selection.”

“Old people stuff,” she mumbled.

Abigail helped her off the table and took her back to the lab where we kept our machines.

By the time we’d put a cast on the fracture I’d suspected, Lulu’s normally tan skin had gone a bit pale.

“Abigail is going to make sure you get something to eat, and then will take you home. No lifting anything—not even a glass of water—with that hand. If you want it to heal the right way, you better listen.”

The older woman rolled her eyes. “Fine, Doc. But I don’t need any help. Been taking care of myself since before you were born.”

She was extremely independent, which was why we would be following up daily with her.

“Just the same, Abigail will make certain you eat and get home safely. Doctor’s orders. And you need to call Angie and tell her what happened.”

She rolled her eyes, and for the third time in twenty minutes, I had to hide my laughter.

A half hour later I received a text from Ewan that he would be tied up for some time. While I could have gone over the evidence we’d already collected, I was curious to find out more about the deceased.

I clicked onto the file share program that Henry had set up for me at the police station. They didn’t have much in the file that I didn’t already know, but there was a business address. Even though it was Saturday, I wondered if someone might be at the office.

I doubted it, since work–life balance was much better here in Scotland than it was in the States. With the exception of myself, who was open for emergencies twenty-four/seven, few people worked weekends, unless they were part of the tourist trade. Many of the people who lived here worked four-day weeks.

I had to admit it was a much healthier lifestyle and even corporations had learned the value of giving people time off to reset and rest. I didn’t think that would ever happen in the States, where we were much more driven by the idea that success meant hard work. Whoever worked the most was the winner.

But that was incredibly unhealthy.