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“Get in,” he barked. As she hurried around to the passenger door, he fixed me with a cold stare. If his dignity had allowed him, he’d have given me the finger.

I turned my back on him and went into Mac’s. He might have thought he’d got the better of me but he’d soon learn he was mistaken. I was going to find Lady Justina’s skin. Then I’d return her to the loch. And stop him poisoning it. Piece of cake.

Mac’s was full to bursting. Douglas had done a great job rallying the village. It didn’t hurt his business that they were all buying drinks, but despite that he looked worried. He beckoned me over.

“What did Sir Alastair want?”

I told him.

“What’re we going to do?” he whispered. “If I organize a search for the skin, Sir Alastair will…”

“I know. We can’t risk a full scale search until we work out a way to stop him poisoning the loch. You’ll have to tell them the meeting’s been cancelled.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay.” Climbing onto a chair he addressed the crowd. “I’m sorry to have brought you out tonight. When I called this meeting I—we—had some news.”

“About the deaths?” It was Hamish, the man who had found the bodies. “Do you know who’s responsible?”

Douglas glanced at me. Vigorously I shook my head. Scarlett had been right. If we told the villagers who was responsible for the death of McEwen, they might take revenge on the selkies. I didn’t want the loch turned into a killing field.

Quickly I climbed onto the chair beside Douglas. “I’m afraid I owe you all an apology,” I said. “I thought I knew who was responsible, but I was mistaken.”

Someone called out, “Not much of a paranormal investigator, are you?”

Ignoring the voice, I continued, “I’m so sorry you were brought out in this cold weather.”

“This isn’t cold,” called another voice. I glanced down. Looking up at me was the ruddy, weathered face of a fisherman. I think his name was John. “Stay here a few more months and you’ll feel real cold.”

Another man called out. “We don’t want her here for a few more months!” I looked over the heads of the crowd. He was standing at the back of the room. He wore a hat pulled low. His spectacles glinted eerily in the dim light. “Go home, yank! We can solve our own crimes.”

A female voice seconded his opinion. “Go home, Allegra Fairweather. We were doing fine before you came.”

The man with the glinting spectacles pointed at me. “McEwen and Malcolm were alive when she arrived.”

I could feel every eye in the room burning into me. Did they really believe I had something to do with the deaths? A shiver ran through me. I can handle myself in a one-on-one fight, but a whole room against me? Forget it.

“McEwen and Malcolm were my mates,” wailed Stuart. “Somebody has to pay for their deaths.”

This was beginning to sound like a lynching. I fought back a wave of panic. The worst thing I could do was show fear.

“Listen, everyone,” I said, raising my voice to be heard. “I believe I can solve these crimes if you give me a little more time.” It wasn’t the most eloquent speech I’ve ever made but under the circumstances it was the best I could do.

Sadly, it wasn’t good enough. The room began to chant, “Go home! Go home!”

I stood my ground. Although they seemed to want me to leave, I sensed that any attempt to do so would result in them rushing me. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. Where was Casper? I swept my eyes over the crowd. He wasn’t among them. I hoped for his sake he wasn’t off guarding someone else. If he was, I’d kill him.

On the chair beside me Douglas had turned a shade paler. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered to me.

I wasn’t sure I believed him. An angry grumble ricocheted around the room. Frowning faces edged closer, crowding me. My heartbeat ramped up a notch. Sweat gathered in my armpits. I squared my shoulders pretending a confidence I didn’t feel, but I was smart enough to remain silent, letting Douglas deal with his fellow villagers.

He held up his hands for silence. “You’ve been put to a lot of trouble tonight.