Page 1 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

Chapter One

I’d seen a great deal of blood in my day. As a doctor it came with the territory, but the scene in front of me wasn’t just gruesome, it was macabre. Still, I believed it needed one final touch. I plunged the butcher knife into the body with more zeal than was necessary.

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” Abigail said. As my incredible associate, she helped with my medical practice here in Sea Isle, and we’d become great friends. She was brilliant, funny, and every bit as invested in our plan for our room in the haunted house, as I was.

“Mara gave us a challenge, and I don’t want to disappoint,” I said. Mara was another friend who ran the pub down the road from my practice. She was in charge of the All Hallow’s Eve fête, which meant Abigail and I had to be on her committee for the haunted house. Each team had a room, and we’d decided to create the scariest doctor’s office we could imagine. I was to play the mad doctor, and she was, once again, my able assistant, Nurse Fright.

“I think your lab coat needs more blood,” she said. Then she took her paint brush and slathered on the washable paint that appeared amazingly like blood. “And we should finish our makeup soon. It’s not long until they open the doors.”

I still couldn’t believe I was about to do something so silly, but I had been promised it was enormous fun. We’d missed the fête last October because another friend, Angie, had been getting married outside of town. I had no idea how seriously the town took the Halloween holiday. Though they called it All Hallow’s Eve or by the old Celtic name, Samhain.

Turned out our town had been the site of a powerful coven back in the day, and the lore surrounding the witches was fun to say the least. I’d heard several tales about the witches when I’d gone to Edinburgh on the Storyteller’s Train the week before. I loved living in a place that had so much history and lore.

“Whatever you think best.” Our side of the room was decorated with various pieces of medical equipment. A few body parts, and strategically positioned lights and blood had been placed to scare those who paid for the privilege to go through each of the rooms. Abigail had been in charge of scene décor, and like most things she did, it was excellent. Scary but in a good sort of way. My only job had been to purchase the items we needed. Most had been found online. Except I forgot the butcher knife. I borrowed that one from home.

“I think that’s it for the room.”

“It’s wonderful. Bloody, but it looks like something in a scary movie. You’re brilliant.”

Abigail blushed. She wasn’t great with compliments. We were working on that. “Thank you.”

“I meant to ask earlier, where is Tommy while we are here?” The haunted house had been set up in an abandoned house in the middle of town. There were twelve rooms in all, and each one was to be scarier than the last. Once we were finished with the fête events, the house would go to the historical society for refurbishment.

“Tommy is busy at Ewan’s tonight,” she said. “I think they’re making treats of some sort.”

Ewan’s house manager treated Tommy like her grandson. It was sweet how much she loved the young man.

There was loud laughter. The gang across from us were artists who had so much creativity. Their room was a study in art gone wrong from bloody paintings to scary animatronic monsters. They also had so much of the requisite ooze. I couldn’t wait to see their finished product.

“I love all the moving figures across the hall,” I said. “I guess I’m the animatronic monster in our scene,” I said.

She laughed. “We’re going to make it look like we are fake bodies sitting around. So, when we move it will give a good scare. Do you remember your line?”

I laughed. “I think I can handle ‘Please, come in for your checkup.’ ”

My phone beeped and I checked the text. “Jasper says the snacks are ready downstairs,” I said.

“Good. I’m so hungry. I hope he brought those little chicken sandwiches.”

“Me, too.” Our favorite patisserie owner and friend, Jasper, made some of the best treats I’d ever eaten. He was that good.

As we walked past the room across the way, I waved at the team working there. “Love the ear.” One of the men was dressedas Van Gogh with a bandaged ear. Another man had a handmade mask of Edvard Munch’sThe Scream. A woman was dressed in a bloody tutu to represent Degas gone wrong. They each had life-sized frames they stood behind. They were surrounded by all kinds of ghosts and goblins wearing art smocks and berets. And the aforementioned ooze seemed to come from the walls. “You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“Thanks,” Van Gogh said.

“Food has arrived,” Abigail said behind me. “Set up in the green room, which is actually the red room downstairs.”

We all laughed.

“Appreciate you letting us know,” the woman said.

“I’m starving,” Van Gogh complained, and then laughed. “This has been fun, though. I can’t wait to scare the kiddies. I think you two will win the scariest room. Puts me off wanting to go to the doc.”

“Do you think?” Abigail asked. “Your artistic monsters are ingenious.”

“We worked on them over the summer,” Van Gogh said. “I’m Duncan, by the way. That’s my sister, Isobel, and my friend, Baird. He’s a rigger like me. But he also does wonders with clay. And Isobel does watercolors.”

“Well, you’ve all done wonders with your room.”