Page 25 of Death on a Scottish Train

“You do accounting for clients but also financial planning and investments, as well. I’m from America and those things are usually done by different professionals there.”

“We provide both services out of this office, which is why clients are not always happy with us. Though, according to Mr. Burns, Mr. Jacks had been off his game for some time. His investment strategies have landed our company in a bit of trouble.”

“That’s why you’re being investigated by Revenue Scotland?” I asked.

“Aye,” she said. “Though, I’m an assistant. I send out invoices and take calls. I’m not a financial expert like my bosses. I dinnae really understand what they do, or why they are under investigation. You’ll need to speak to my boss about that.”

I wasn’t so sure I believed her. I had a feeling she knew much more than she let on.

“I cannae believe he’s dead. We were only talking yesterday afternoon. Well, he was talking about his train ride. I only half listened. I was waiting for him to leave so I could get ready for the party. I feel so guilty for wishing he would just hurry up and go.”

“Do you remember if he was taking anyone with him to the event?” I asked.

“Like a date?” She laughed hard.

“Why is that funny?” Ewan asked.

Her eyes went wide, and the smile dropped off her face. “I—uh. He was into trains and acting. He did some community theater. But I’ve never seen him go on a date.

“He’s the opposite of Mr. Burns, who has a different woman on his arm every week—even though he’s married.” She gasped and once again put a hand to her mouth. “I mean. Uh. I cannae believe I said that out loud. He’s going to kill me.”

Well, that was good to know. I had a feeling Ewan would most definitely be following up with that line of questioning.

“What was Mr. Jacks like as a boss?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was a tough one. Nothing made him happy. What’s that word people use for grumpy men?”

“Curmudgeon?” I offered.

She nodded. “Never happy with anything and seldom had a kind word for me or Mr. Burns. He made fun of me every time I made a mistake. He wasn’t exactly a people person, if you understand what I mean. In my opinion, he had no business being someone who dealt with our clients.”

“That is strange,” I said. “Why did Mr. Burns allow him to work with the clients?”

She shrugged. “He always said people appreciated someone who wasn’t very emotional when it came to investing. That they liked a bit of a cold fish. I’m not so sure about that.”

“Is there anyone you can remember in particular who might have been angry with him?” I asked.

Ewan glanced at me, but he didn’t appear angry. She’d seemed to relax since I started asking questions.

She shook her head. “We had some unhappy clients when several of his investment choices dinnae pan out the way he had expected. We received some nasty calls. And I heard him talking to Mr. Burns about some threatening emails.”

Ewan motioned toward Henry, who held up the laptop.

“Was there anyone who might have been angry enough to cause him harm?” Henry asked. I was surprised he spoke up. When Ewan was around, Henry usually deferred to his boss. But it was a good question.

“I can make you a list,” she said.

A list? Oh. No. That meant more suspects.

While Henry boxed up the evidence from the office and took it back to the station, I followed Ewan out of the building.

“Can I come back with you to the victim’s home?”

“How did you know that is where I was going next?”

“You asked Henry for the warrant.”

“You are observant, Doc.” He smiled and, like always, my stomach did something twisty inside. His smile had that effect on me.