“She can’t stall. The timing was great. Suspenseful. We’ll lose them if she has to pad what is a perfect speech!” Gina protested.
“You want Bruce MacNiall to ride into the great hall as he did last night?” Bruce asked. “I can do that for you again. Is that it?”
They were staring at him incredulously.
“You would do that?” Gina said.
“Hey, you’re here, and I already think I’m insane myself. Why the hell not?” he returned.
“There’s a little more to it, as written,” Gina said.
“Oh?” Bruce queried.
David grinned. “You’re supposed to dismount, walk up the stairs and strangle Toni.”
“Ah.” Bruce stared at Toni again, a smile teasing at his lips. “I think I can handle that.”
“You only pretend to strangle her, you know,” Thayer interjected.
“And that might be a lot harder!” Kevin said, winking at Toni.
She wasn’t particularly amused. “I don’t really see how we can ask Laird MacNiall to join in with us. He’s already doing us such a tremendous favor,” she said very sweetly.
“I don’t mind at all,” Bruce MacNiall said, rising. “This was a feast, ladies and gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me, though, I’d like to get into the village before your evening events.”
They watched as he left.
“Well, there you go. The chap isn’t really half bad after all,” Thayer said. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him, though, when he’s up there strangling Toni, eh?”
To Toni, his accent seemed to accentuate a real danger for some reason. But the others were laughing, so it was probably just in her mind.
“Ryan, you’ve just been shoved out of your big moment,” David said.
“Hey, that’s okay. It’s worth it just to watch that horse of his come racing in and stop on a dime,” Ryan said. He grinned, glancing across the table. “I will miss getting to strangle Toni, though.”
“Ha, ha,” she said and rose, stretching. “Well, let’s see … under the artistic direction of Mr. David Fulton and Mr. Kevin Hart, I did the washing, chopping and table adornment. Ryan, you can rue your lost opportunity to strangle me while you wash the dishes with your lovely wife and Thayer.”
“Me? But I got to shovel out major horse shite already today!”
“Hey, horses are your thing, and you’re the expert. As for KP, we’re all in on it. So! Ta-ta, cheerio and all that! I’m off!” And with a smile, she made her exit.
Bruce entered Jonathan Tavish’s office after a brief tap against the doorframe. Jonathan looked up and arched a brow. “Bruce, I thought you’d be guarding the family jewels, what with that houseful in the old estate.”
“Hardly an estate, and totally a crumbling castle,” Bruce said, taking a seat. “Actually, the more I walk around the place, the more amazed I am. They’ve taken care of a ton of minor things that I’ve put off for years.”
“It’s tough when you’re keeping up with too much,” Jonathan agreed. He grinned. “Now, if you were just among the local peasant law-keepers, you’d be here year-round, pluggin’ up holes at any given time. So … it seems you’re not quite as angry as you were when you first learned about your guests?”
Bruce angled his head slightly as he surveyed his friend. They were close in age, had known each other since childhood. They shared a passion for this little neck of the world, though they didn’t always agree about how it should be run. Bruce was the local gentry, as it were, and Jonathan was the local law. But because Jonathan was local, and had always been local, he seemed to maintain a chip on his shoulder where Bruce was concerned.
One day, maybe, Jonathan would run for the position of provost. As such, he could implement more of his own ideas. Thus far, though, he seemed to like being constable.
“I’ve cooled down some, yes,” Bruce said. “Since no one threw them out in my absence, I thought another few days couldn’t hurt too much.”
“Ah,” Jonathan teased. “It was the blonde, eh? What a beauty—and what absolute hell on wheels!”
“She does have a way about her,” Bruce agreed. “But this isn’t the first time I’ve heard about this happening.”
“Your castle being taken over?” Jonathan said, puzzled.
Bruce shook his head. “This sort of thing in general. People going through what they think are private enterprises or legitimate rental agencies and winding up in a similar circumstance. I really want to find out what happened in this situation.”
“Like you said, it happens too often.”
“Yes, but this time it happened to be my castle that was taken over.”
“Come Monday, you can let those folks see all your records. They can bring their documents down, and we’ll get someone on it right away. Unfortunately, sometimes—especially in this age of the Internet—people can clean up their trails.” He lifted his hands. “I might have gotten started on it already, but they didn’t want to hand over the documents.”
“It’s all they’ve got to prove anything.”
“Great. They don’t trust the law.”
“Well,” Bruce said, offering a certain sympathy. “They don’t trust me, either.”
“Ah, there we are! In the same boat, as they say.”
“Right. But actually, that’s not why I’m here,” Bruce said.
“Oh?”
Bruce tossed the newspaper on Jonathan’s desk. “Oh, that.” “Aye, oh, that!”
Jonathan shook his head. “Bruce, they’re not local girls disappearing.”
“But in the last year, two bodies have been found in the forest.”
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s a big forest,” Jonathan re minded him.
“Have you had men out searching?” Bruce demanded.
“This girl just disappeared,” Jonathan reminded him. “But yes, I’ve had men out searching.”
“Right. The last two girls who disappeared wound up in our forest. We should be looking for this latest lass. I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that’s where she’s going to be.”
“Careful with that kind of prophecy, Bruce,” Jonathan warned, sitting back. “People will begin to think you know more about these disappearances and murders than you should. They do keep occurring when you’re actually in residence.” He raised a hand instantly. “And that doesn’t mean a damned thing. I’m your friend and I know you. I’m just telling you what someone else might think.”
“Bloody hell!” Bruce cursed, his tone hard. Jonathan’s
suggestion was an outrage, and he was both startled and angry.
“Sorry, Bruce, I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that you’re getting obsessive. I understand, of course. But you’re not what you were, Bruce. Time has gone on. Just because you struck it lucky once in Edinburgh doesn’t make you an expert.”
Bruce prayed for patience. “I’m not claiming to be an expert. But murdered women being discovered in Tillingham Forest does bother, seriously. And it should bother the hell out of you.”
“I know my business, Bruce.”
“I’m not suggesting that you don’t.”