Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [40]
“Quite,” Rex said in a noncommittal tone. “Going back to Moira’s death—and I regret making you dwell on it—did you notice anything unusual last night, either in the way people were behaving or perhaps later, when everybody had gone to bed? You might have remembered something …”
Shona sighed and looked around the room for inspiration. Apparently she found none, for she drew her thin lips together until they were mere lines in her face and shook her head resolutely. “I wish I could help. I mean, other than your friend flirting with all the men …”
“You mean Moira?”
“Oh, aye, not Helen. She would never do that to you. She loves and respects you. That’s obvious.”
Rex pondered this. Did that mean Shona did not think Moira had loved and respected him? Since they were no longer together, it did not much matter whether she had or not—though had she not still loved him, would she have chased after him to Florida and then to the Highlands?
Gazing upon Shona’s downcast face, it suddenly dawned on him. She was drawing a comparison between Hamish and Moira. She was suggesting that her husband could not love or respect her or else he wouldn’t make a pass at every attractive woman within grasp. But, according to Helen, Moira had been trying to make him jealous.
“All right, hen,” he said kindly. “I’ll just have a word with Flora, and Donnie when he returns, and then you can get back to the hotel as soon as we get your van fixed.” Presumably the police would arrive before then.
“What aboot Rob Roy?”
“You can wait for him or else he can walk back after I’ve spoken to him. He has his walking boots and it’s only four miles as the crow flies.”
Shona slipped out of her chair and called to Flora. The girl sidled into the room and her mother closed the door softly between them.
“I want to be here when you question Donnie,” Flora told Rex. “He’ll only clam up if I’m not.”
“Where is he?”
“He’ll be around somewhere. He prefers the outdoors to being cooped up in a house.”
“Of course you can sit in when I talk to him. I can see how close the two of you are.”
Appeased, Flora took a chair. “My dad said the two of you discussed the drowning back at the hotel two summers ago.”
“He wanted me to be aware of the situation before I talked to your mother, so as not to upset her.”
“It was awful,” Flora said. “It affected everyone.”
“Who else was on the beach at the time?”
“I was there with Brad.” Flora swallowed with difficulty. “I was distracted.”
Rex poured her a glass of water. She was rather a plain lass, he decided, but with a bit of effort, she could have been attractive. Her features were pleasant enough and her dreamy eyes, pale and gray as mist, lent her face a certain wistfulness.
“I was supposed to keep an eye on Amy for part of the morning,” she explained. “My mother begged me to. I’d planned to spend time with Brad since he was leaving to go back to the States the following week. He’d talked about visiting Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness and asked if I would come along as a tour guide.”
Rex didn’t think “tour guide” sounded very romantic on the part of a suitor, but tried to keep his expression neutral.
“My mother said it was good for business if I did a spot of free babysitting. She said I could visit the castle with Brad another time and not to seem so eager. When he came up to me and started talking, I forgot all about Amy.”
“Were you and Brad the only two adults on the beach?”
“It’s not really a beach, just a slip of sand along the loch. There was a couple from the hotel, but they were facing the hotel. They didn’t see anything.”
“What about Donnie?”
“He was roe deer stalking that day. He started as a ghillie when he was fourteen. Why is the drowning at our hotel relevant to Moira’s murder?”
“The drowning at Loch Lochy may not be relevant at all. What