Renie got out of the backseat, but Judith was still struggling with her heavy purse when she heard Beth let out a gasp.
“That’s daft!” she exclaimed. “What could Chuckie possibly know?”
Judith waited.
“I don’t believe it,” Beth declared. “He wants attention. I’ll be there shortly.” She rang off and looked at Judith. “That was Phil. Chuckie’s been sulking all day, so Phil finally tried to make up after their row yesterday. But that wasn’t why Chuckie was upset. The police haven’t interviewed him, and he wants to tell them he knows who killed Harry.”
What took so long?” Renie asked as Judith joined her by the bank entrance. “I thought you’d sweated so much you got glued to the seat.”
“I would’ve,” Judith replied, “if Beth hadn’t turned on the AC. Let’s go to the bank and then have lunch. It’s been quite a morning. Beth just heard from Philip saying that Chuckie knows who murdered Harry.”
Renie stopped on the cobblestones that led into the bank. “Who?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t think Philip knows. Chuckie wants to tell the police. Of course he may be fantasizing.”
Renie frowned. “I hope he tells what he knows to the right people.”
Judith nodded. “Yes. Otherwise he could put himself in danger.”
The cousins went into the bank. Neither knew exactly what to do when it was their turn in the short queue, but the clerk with the shaved head and goatee was patient and helpful. Twenty minutes later, Judith and Renie found a pub off the alley behind the bank. The Rood & Mitre was much quieter and more pleasant than the Yew and Eye.
At almost one o’clock, the pub was busy with customers. The decor was minimal but tasteful, mainly pen-and-ink drawings of local sights, including the castle. The cousins each ordered a glass of ale.
“No Old Engine Oil here,” Renie remarked. “I’m going to try the scampi and chips. They come with a salad.”
“I’m not very hungry after eating Kate’s scone,” Judith said. “I’ll get a prawn cocktail and a small salad.” She put the menu aside. “Tell me what brought you to Kate’s house.”
“Boredom,” Renie replied. “Once I was awake, I realized there wasn’t much to do at the castle, and I didn’t want to run into Chuckie. Thus I was inspired to tackle Kate Gunn by using my special powers.”
“Dressed as a witch?” Judith said with a wry smile.
“Easy,” Renie replied. “I borrowed your cape and cackled a lot.” She hoisted the shopping bag she’d brought with her. “Your cape’s safe, except for some salt sprinklings. I stashed it by her front steps for easy retrieval. I poured the salt on the herb garden while uttering strange incantations that were actually the Notre Dame fight song.”
Judith shook her head in disbelief. “And she fell for it.”
“Sure,” Renie said. “She’s credulous enough to believe in astrology. I figured she’d bite like a cat gobbling a canary.”
“Some bright people take astrology seriously,” Judith pointed out.
“Oh, I know,” Renie explained, “but I had a feeling—not from my so-called special powers, but more from my gut—that Kate’s superstitious.”
“So what did you learn before I arrived? Or were you too busy filling your face with scones and jam?”
“I didn’t learn as much as I’d have liked,” Renie admitted. “She did talk more about Moira. I got the impression she appreciated Moira’s concern and affection for Frankie, but that mother-in-law and daughter-in-law weren’t close. When I mentioned we’d met Moira putting roses on Davey Piazza’s grave, Mrs. Gunn made a crack about Moira remembering her assistant with more fondness than she had for her first husband.”
Judith recalled that there weren’t any flowers where Frankie was buried. “He’s in the family plot with all those dead children and their father. Maybe Moira lets Kate take care of it.”
“Anyway,” Renie said, “my theory got shot all to hell.”
“What theory?” Judith asked.
“That Kate would do anything for her children—and even an ex-daughter-in-law,” Renie explained. “Especially if she wanted to marry Moira off to another one of her eligible sons.”
Judith grimaced. “You mean do anything like…murder?”
“I think Kate can be devious,” Renie said as a lad with shaggy magenta hair arrived to take their lunch order.
“Did you deduce that aspect of her character from the aura you sensed?” Judith inquired with a smirk.
“I deduced it from her spying devices around the house,” Renie replied. “Didn’t that set off some alarms in your brain?”
“Well…yes,” Judith replied. “I considered her a control freak.”
“It’s no wonder her other children don’t live at home,” Renie noted. “Two are at university, but the older three either live in the Glasgow family home or are on their own. Who’d want Mummy spying on them?”
“True.” Judith sipped her dark ale. It was quite bitter, but she’d drink it down. The half hour in the sunroom seemed to have dehydrated her. “Let me tell you what happened at Hollywood House.”
“I’m agog,” Renie said. “Go for it.”
The cousins were halfway through their meal before Judith finally finished. Renie was intrigued. “Wish I hadn’t missed all that,” she said. “Especially the part where you threw your purse at Seumas Bell.”
“That reminds me,” Judith said, “I must’ve overloaded my purse this morning. It feels like it weighs ten pounds.”
“Mine does,” Renie asserted. “I weighed it at the airport. Of course I still had a pint of Wild Turkey in it then.”
“You would. I’m sure it was empty by the time we reached thirty thousand feet.” She hauled her purse onto her lap. “When I travel, I tend to toss in things I might need during the—” She stopped as she felt something cold, hard, and unfamiliar. “There’s a…box or…what is this?” She removed a round, footed silver case embossed with gold rose petals and leaves. “Where did this come from?”
Renie stared at the elegant box. “You stole it?”
“Don’t be cute,” Judith said, trying to open the case. “Honestly, I swear it wasn’t in my purse when I left Grimloch this morning.”
“Where did you leave your purse unattended?”
Judith was still struggling to unfasten the case. “Let me think…At Hollywood House. I left it in Moira’s sitting room while I was talking to MacRae. Ah!” The clasp finally gave and the lid snapped open. To Judith’s surprise, there were no glittering jewels inside the velvet-lined box. “It looks like a bunch of paper.”
Renie put out a hand. “Let’s see.”
There were at least a half dozen sheets of paper stuffed inside. Judith handed three of them to Renie and kept the rest for herself.
“Emails,” Renie said. “Who saves email printouts?”
Judith scanned the first two. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. These are love letters. That is, love emails.”
Renie sighed. “There goes romance.” She read through the pages Judith had given her. “You’re right. No actual dates, headings, or to-and-from names. Very fragmentary,” she noted between bites of scampi. “Sign-offs like ‘Yours forever’ and ‘Always together.’ Gack.”
Judith’s eyes widened as she read through the emails she’d kept. “Good Lord! This sounds compromising!” She glanced around the pub to see if anyone was paying attention to the cousins. The other customers seemed involved with their own conversations and meals. Judith lowered her voice anyway. “Listen to this—‘Darling—It won’t be long now. I’m counting the hours until we’re together. Just remember, once my problem is solved, nothing stands in our way. All my love goes with you.’ What does that sound like?”
Renie scratched her head. “Well…I realize you’re putting it in context. It could be Moira, writing to Patrick.”
Judith regarded Renie with skepticism. “The only place these emails could’ve gotten into my purse was at Hollywood House. I’ve seen Moira’s maid. I know you can’t always go by looks, but she’s not the romantic type. And you’ve met Fergus. He doesn’t cut a dashing figure, either.”