Allegra Fairweather_ Paranormal Investigator - Janni Nell [60]
“How long did you watch the woman?” I asked.
“I dinnae know. Maybe five minutes.”
I immediately doubled it. “What was she doing?”
“For a while she stood by the shore.”
“The shore? Not the wood?”
“The shore,” he insisted. “We saw her near the rose.”
A thought came to me. Could the woman they’d seen have been Scarlett Gordon? I asked if he knew her.
He nodded. “She lives in Beag Glen.”
“Was she the woman you saw near the loch?”
He paused as though that was a possibility he hadn’t considered. “Well it was night, but there was plenty of moonlight.” He shook his head. “No, it definitely wasn’t Scarlett. Her hair wasn’t the same color.”
“Okay.” But in my own mind I hadn’t ruled out the possibility the woman was Scarlett. She could have been wearing a wig. “Go on, Stuart, what happened next?”
“The woman started to walk along the shore. After a while she did a wee dance and started running. Soon we couldn’t see her any more. So we went home.”
“What were the three of you doing on that part of the shore? It’s a long walk from the village, especially at night.”
“It’s not that far by car. I know Melville was too pissed to drive, but nobody uses that road at night. We weren’t going to crash.”
This wasn’t the moment to give him a lesson on road safety. I held my tongue and he continued.
“We went there,” said Stuart, “because McEwen wanted to see the bleeding rose. He had this crazy idea about picking it and giving it to Lady Justina because his heart was ‘bleeding for her’.” Stuart looked sheepish. “We were really pissed.”
“Did McEwen try to pick the rose?” There were no records of anyone attempting to pick a Dedfield Rose, so no one knew the consequences. But considering the rosebush predicted disaster and death, I was pretty sure picking one of the blooms wasn’t a good idea. Maybe this was the reason he had been killed. Maybe something in the loch owned the rose and didn’t want it taken. Okay, that was a long shot, but I’ve solved stranger cases.
“McEwen dinnae touch the rose. The lady was standing beside it when we arrived.”
“I see. That must have been when you saw her take off her clothes.”
“No—I mean, aye—”
Anne interrupted to ask if we wanted more tea. I wondered how much of our conversation she’d overheard. I hoped she’d heard the part where Stuart insisted he’d never been unfaithful to her.
Stuart got to his feet and said abruptly, “I have to mow the lawn now.”
I glanced through the window. The lawn didn’t appear to need mowing. Either Stuart was obsessive about keeping his lawn trimmed or he didn’t want to talk to me anymore. The latter was unflattering but I thought it was closer to the truth.
“Thanks for talking to me.” I made a mental note to talk to him again next time he came to Mac’s. He’d be more forthcoming if I loosened his tongue with a drop of Douglas’s best brew.
When Stuart went to the shed to get his lawn mower, Anne showed me to the door.
“Are you any closer to solving this mystery?” It was painfully obvious she didn’t care whether I solved the case. She was really asking whether Stuart was going to die.
I wanted to give her hope. But false hope? That wasn’t fair.
I compromised by saying, “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I can’t ask for more than that,” she said, but I knew she was hoping for a miracle. I only hoped I could provide one.
Looking for miracles took me down to the shore of the loch. I stood by the Dedfield Rose for a long time. I touched one of the blooms. The petals were the color of dried blood, so dark they were almost black. I squeezed gently and a bright drop appeared.
A harsh voice said, “Stop touching that.”
I whirled around. “Scarlett, what’re you doing here?”
“I come here sometimes,” she said.
“Why? It’s a long way from your cottage.”
“I…um…I’m researching the rose. For a book.”
“About witches?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t believe you.” I hadn’t meant to be confrontational but now the gloves were off I might as well continue. Bearing in mind the principle that if you shot off enough arrows you were bound to hit something, I said, “I