Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [39]
“Och, he was snug as a bug in a rug. Plenty warm enough.”
Interesting that Hamish had not taken the bait, Rex noted in his pad. “Thank you. I’ll talk to Shona now.”
Hamish rose abruptly from the dining table. “Please treat her with kid gloves. She had a nervous breakdown two years ago. I’m worried this might set her off again.”
Rex sat back in the uncomfortable Queen Anne style chair, which the interior designer had recommended and which he had been gullible enough to buy. He should, in retrospect, have let Helen choose the furnishings, but he had been afraid of being dragged around furniture shops and asked for opinions that would never be listened to anyway. So much easier to present her with the finished product so they could get on with the business of enjoying the house.
Obviously, that was not going to be this weekend.
“You wanted to see me?” Shona asked timidly from the doorway.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Rex said bouncing up from the table and pulling out a chair for her. “Would you like some water?”
“Och, no, I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry to bring up something upsetting that happened two years ago, but Hamish said you were troubled by the situation with Moira in view of that event …”
Crossing her arms, Shona rubbed the sleeves of her homespun sweater as though she might be cold. Finally she nodded and began to speak. “When your friend was found in the loch this morning, it all came flooding back. That wee lass that drowned in our loch was brought out of the water in her father’s arms. He dove in after her but it was too late.” Mrs. Allerdice dried away a tear with her woolen cuff. “He blamed us, but it wasna Flora’s fault. She was only nineteen at the time and was doing them a favour, looking after their bairn while they were gallivanting in the sauna.”
“What happened exactly?”
“The wee lass was building a sand castle on the strip of shoreline, which we call the beach. Flora was sunbathing and reading a magazine. One of our other guests, a young American, went over to talk to her and, well, that’s when Amy took off. Her father spotted her from his bedroom window and tried to attract Flora’s attention. He rushed down to the loch and swam out to the spot where he had last seen the child.”
“What a tragedy.” Rex comfortingly squeezed Shona’s wrist across the table.
“Flora was devastated. There had been a budding relationship between her and the American—Brad, a young architect from Boston. But it was never the same after that. Things became strained and, in any case, he had to fly home the following week. He never contacted her. Flora was verra disappointed.”
“Were there other guests staying at the hotel?”
“Aye, we had a full house that June. None of them ever came back. It was the parents’ fault for not taking care of the bairn themselves,” Shona declared bitterly. “It wasna Flora’s job.”
“So you are hoping to deflect interest away from that incident by promoting the Lizzie of Loch Lochy story.” Rex almost said “hoax” but stopped himself just in time. “And Rob Roy is proving instrumental in this project.”
“Well, aye,” Shona said, brightening up. “He’s verra serious about this article he’s writing. Yesterday he went to take photographs from the far side of the loch, aboot ten miles to the south, where old Cameron saw Lizzie.”
“Did he walk?”
“Aye, he came up from Glasgow by train. I packed him some egg sandwiches, crisps, and an orange, since he said he would not be back for lunch. He saw some ripples in the water, but wasna able to get a picture.”
Rex shook his head in sympathy. “It’s a right elusive creature, isn’t it?” Then, “It looks like Rob Roy might be playing court to Flora,” he added tentatively.
“Och, no. At any rate, I don’t think Flora is interested.”
“You don’t approve of Rob Roy?”
“Well,” Shona replied in a lowered voice. “I dinna think he has much money. He’s a nice young man, but Flora could do better. In fact, since you bring it up, that’s what Hamish and I were in disagreement aboot this morning. He thinks I have unrealistic expectations regarding