Page 73 of Death on a Scottish Train

She’d been typing on the computer and stopped. “What is it?” She asked curiously.

I pulled up the photo of the couple.

“I think I remember reading that Mr. Burns, the partner of Mr. Jacks, was married. But I don’t think this woman is his wife. I swear I’ve seen her before, but I can’t remember in what context.”

I showed her the picture.

She grunted, which was very unlike her. “You are right. That is not his wife, who is a patient of ours. I think that is Davina, who sang at the pub last month during open mic night. Henry left for a few minutes to check on something, but I can have him confirm when he comes back.”

“Was I there? I don’t remember her.”

“You were there. It’s the hair,” she said. “Last month she was a redhead. She changes the color fairly regularly.”

“But she is definitely not his wife, right?”

“No. I cannae believe he would be doing that in front of the town. His poor wife will be crushed.”

“Well, we won’t be the ones to tell her,” I said. I gave her a look.

She held up her hands. “Not a word from me, but if they were in front of the pub, the whole town will know by now.”

I laughed. “You aren’t wrong. I’ll send the picture to Ewan. It may not have anything to do with our case, but you never know.

“At the very least, it shows that Mr. Burns is not exactly a pillar of society. It is strange, though.”

“What is?”

“I thought I caught a whiff of something between him and the executive assistant. Like maybe they’d been having an affair. But, perhaps, it is just a close working relationship.

“Well, if he’s having an affair, there is a good chance he’s had one in the past.”

“You may be right about that. Still, it brings another suspect into the picture.”

“How so?” Abigail asked.

“She was on the train, I remember now. She had on a flapper dress and headband. She wasn’t one of the storytellers, but she still dressed up.”

“I dinnae remember.”

“I was up taking a look at the engine. She was running late, and the station master was telling her to hurry.”

We stared at one another as if we realized the same thing.

“If she was running late, she may have had time to shove the body in the closet,” I said.

Her eyebrows went up.

“She’s thin, but tall,” Abigail continued. “And he would have been in a weakened state. Maybe she was helping her boyfriend out.”

I nodded.

“I definitely need to call Ewan.”

Chapter Nineteen

By the time I left the clinic, the sun had run away, and a steady rain fell. Summers in Scotland were as unpredictable as the winters, and I’d learned to dress in layers for any kind of weather. I found Mara waiting outside the pub.

“What happened to summer?” I asked.