Page 82 of Death on a Scottish Train

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s either someone who was in his home, at work, or was part of the volunteer group helping to bring the train back whom he invited into his home. He didn’t get along with a few of them because he was such a perfectionist. I remember some of the committee members telling me that. But I can’t imagine him inviting someone into his home if he didn’t get along with them.

“It might be a good idea to go back with those he did invite and speak with them. And then of course our most likely suspects are the people he worked with at the firm.”

“We have to tread carefully with the business partner and the executive assistant,” he said.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“They’ve called the solicitors in.”

“Do they realize that makes them look even more suspicious?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think they care. They were tired of us bugging them. That doesn’t mean we’ve given up on them as suspects. The forensic accountant finally has the files. It is taking longer than expected, though. I hope to hear from her soon. If nothing else, we may be able to get them on fraud.”

I scrunched up my face.

“What?” Ewan asked.

“I never like the idea of a killer getting away.”

“Nor do I. But at least it’s something. She is going through hundreds of files and comparing those with the records on multiple laptops.”

“I’m surprised, if there is fraud, that the partner hasn’t taken off for some nonextradition country.”

He chuckled. “Probably thinks we won’t figure it out.”

“Or he may not know the extent of it,” I said.

“What do you mean? He is a full partner in the firm.”

“Yes, but what if Jacks was the real criminal and had been hiding things? I remember something the executive assistant said about Burns being angry at the victim for messing things up.”

“Hmm. You may be right. But that gives him even more motive for murder.”

“There is that.”

A half hour later, he turned off the main highway and drove up the side of a mountain.

“I thought this was in Edinburgh,” I said.

He grinned. “We’re on the outskirts. The estate has been in my family for hundreds of years. Mum uses it for charity events.”

“Estate, so not one of your castles?” His family had a few all over Scotland. Though one would never know about his wealth if they met Ewan. He was as down to earth as they came, and likely to get his hands dirty if the situation required it.

He was wealthy enough to live off his laurels for many lifetimes, but he wasn’t that kind of guy. He worked hard and helped as many people as he could. There was much to admire about Ewan, even if we didn’t always get along.

The road curved around and then opened up to a grand estate. It was like something out of Downton Abbey but with more gothic architecture. The mix of stone and pillars gave it a grand dame sort of appearance without being too fussy.

“Let me guess, some of this was refurbished when the Normans made their way into Scotland.

He chuckled. “You’ve been reading up?”

“I have. Everything is so much older here than anything we have in the States—by several hundred years. I find it fascinating how each invader sort of brought their own spin to the residents of Scotland.”

“That they did,” he said. “You might be interested to know that this wasn’t originally our land. It once belonged to someone who betrayed the king. He then handed over several properties to my family, for taking care of that problem.”

My eyes must have gone wide, as we paused in the valet line, because he laughed.