Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [2]
“I saw the McCallum van,” she said as they met up on the road. “Did they fix the radiator?”
He would have gladly joined her on her walk to the village but for the appointment with the builders, which had been set for “sometime in the day.”
“No, but they still managed to get a fifty out of me.”
“Oh, Rex, you should have let me deal with them.”
Helen was a practical woman and probably would not have put up with any nonsense from the McCallum brothers, but Rex felt it was a man’s place to deal with loutish contractors.
“I suppose they drew sharp intakes of breath and heaved deep sighs of woe when they inspected the radiator,” she added.
“Aye, pretty much.”
“And they said it would cost an arm and a leg to fix anything so antiquated.”
“They did, only they didn’t express themselves in such eloquent terms.” He took Helen’s basket and they walked toward the lodge gate.
“I know how you feel about supporting the local economy, Rex, but I think they are taking advantage.”
“Aye, but they’re right clannish around here. If I hired a townie, I’d be shunned by the whole village. They’d put a hex on those eggs you bought.”
Helen laughed outright. “You’re just a big-hearted softie. I cannot imagine you sending people off to prison.”
“It’s my job.”
“When are they coming back to fix it?”
“Next week,” Rex said with a conviction he did not feel.
“Ah, well, at least no one will be using that room. It’s only Alistair and the Farquharsons staying over, isn’t it?”
Rex groaned at the thought. The Farquharsons were horrible snobs, but they had contributed ostentatiously to his mother’s pet missionary charity and she had insisted he put them up for a few days. Alistair was a colleague from the High Court of Justiciary, the supreme criminal court of Scotland, and had given him the tip about Gleneagle Lodge, having heard of the sale from a solicitor friend.
“Who else did you say was coming?” Helen asked.
“The Allerdice couple who own a hotel on Loch Lochy on the other side of Deer Glen. They’re bringing their son and daughter. Donnie has a learning disability. The lass is a bit of a wallflower. The parents are anxious to marry her off.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “How feudal.”
“They asked if they could bring a guest from the hotel. He’s writing an article on Lizzie, Loch Lochy’s answer to Nessie of Loch Ness fame. I gather the plesiosaurs are cousins, or some such nonsense.”
“Oh, I heard all about that at the village shop. Old Cameron spotted Lizzie this morning when he was fishing for pike. He said the creature fits the description of the Loch Ness monster, only it’s smaller.”
“It’ll grow by the end of the night,” Rex predicted. “That story will be worth a few drams at the pub.”
“Isn’t it exciting? A prehistoric monster living in the neighbouring loch!”
“Och, c’mon, now—it’s a big hoax!”
They reached the side of the lodge, with its red gingerbread gable culminating in a generous chimney. The newly varnished oak door formed the only aperture in the gray stone wall. Flanked by two huge pots of geraniums, it displayed a brass knocker and a plaque engraved with “R. Graves” above the letter box, leaving no doubt as to the main entry to the house. Previously, visitors had wandered about in some confusion, peering into downstairs windows, much to Rex’s annoyance.
“Well, I best get on with my cake,” Helen said. “What time will they be arriving?”
“Around six.” Rex wondered if he should change out of his corduroys, and decided he couldn’t be bothered. “Can I do anything to help?”
“It’s all taken care of, except for the smoked salmon canopies. But you can keep me company in the kitchen if you want.”
“I’d rather keep you company somewhere else,” Rex growled. “I do wish these people weren’t coming.”
“Oh, come on, Rex. It’ll be fun.”
At that moment, he heard the rumble of an engine on the other side of the hill and seconds later saw a Land Rover hurtling down the incline. An arm shot out of the passenger window waving a bright scarf, followed