Page 68 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

“No. Nor do I know exactly what it is they want. The only thing I can think of is the ring. And I keep telling them it’s at the station. There wasn’t anything else among the belongings, right?”

“We gave everything to the Constable,” she said. “Neither of them had much on them. The first victim was in the artist costume. The second man was in his regular clothes under that cape. The clothes have gone back into evidence. I even sterilized the apothecary jars and retested them. They won’t hurt anyone else.”

She was good that way. “I don’t understand why they are being so persistent. But it does make me think these two men are related somehow. Can I run something by you?”

“Always,” she said. She sat down in the chair in front of my desk.

“The only thing of real value was the ring. The rest of the items don’t really add up to much. The ring was most likely found in that puzzle box by accident. Maybe the second Duncan contacted Robert McClendon and asked about the … no. He probably wouldn’t be that straightforward.”

“What do you mean?” Abigail asked.

“Ewan hates assuming and guessing, but sometimes it’s necessary to pose scenarios when trying to reconstruct what might have happened.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“If McClendon and his cronies are looking for the ring, as we suspect, how did they find out about it? I mean, why would he have accidently sold it for a few pounds?”

“You make a good point. But if it had been in the puzzle box and he didn’t know …”

“Exactly. But what if our antique dealer Duncan called Robert’s wife and said, do you know what was in the puzzle box? And what if she said no? Then Duncan, whose businesswas doing OK but not great, may have thought it was a finders-keepers situation.”

“But then the McClendons were curious?”

“Right. And everyone has caller ID. It may have shown up on their phone as Duncan Craig. Right?”

Her doe-eyes widened. “Oh. So he goes after the artist Duncan, thinking he’s trying to cheat him out of something. The poor guy had no idea what he was talking about.”

“If there were three of them, it would have been easy for them to overtake him. They are also tall enough. And they’ve alibied each other. So …”

“Then they find the other Duncan?”

“And maybe scare the wits out of him. He’s hidden the ring in his backpack at the bothie. Ewan explained that hikers usually leave each other’s stuff alone, so he may have felt OK to leave it there. The poison has weakened his heart and his mind. If they tormented him in some way, it could have sent him over the edge.”

“That makes sense.”

“We’re just lacking that all-mighty proof.”

“What do we do?”

“I know they are still waiting on some of the phone records. That would show the second Duncan calling the McClendons and from there we may be able to help Ewan put a case together.”

“Have you told him any of this?”

I shrugged. “Bits and pieces. If we can show McClendon’s and his cronies’ DNA was on the second Duncan or the first, that would do it. But they were wearing costumes and most likely gloves. It’s the only way they could have made it out of the haunted house with that sort of blood spatter. It was the perfectkilling space. And while he’s a bully, he’s not dumb. They would have long ago burned whatever they wore that night. That phone call, though, could tie things together enough to get a confession out of someone. If not McClendon, one of his henchmen.”

“You seem determined to think it was them. Do you have any other proof? Please don’t get angry, you always say one of us needs to play devil’s advocate.”

I pursed my lips. “If it isn’t them, then I don’t have a clue.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.

“You always say, and it’s usually true, the killers are someone they know. McClendon fits that. But so does Baird and the first victim’s sister. They were there minutes before the murder. A half-hour isn’t long, and we saw him no more than that. All three of those men would have had to hide somewhere, stolen the knife at some point during the night, and then waited. And if they planned to kill him, wouldn’t they have brought their own weapon?”

She was right, it was a lot. “Also, a fair point. But Baird and Isobel? What would be their motivation?”

Abigail stared down at the floor.

“What?”

“He seems to care for her a great deal,” she said. “I mean, I’m not the best at picking up on those sort of clues, romantic ones. But he is always looking after her, and he gives her that glance. The one Henry gives me.”