Judith held up her glass. “We’re having a drink. Patrick went out for a bit.” She wasn’t sure why she was protecting their errant host, but having helped defend him in the previous encounter with Seumas Bell and Jocko Morton, Judith decided not to change sides. “Do you have a message for him? We can deliver it when he gets back.”
A phone rang, playing familiar notes from Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Seumas reached inside his hooded jacket. “The Eagle has flown,” he said after a moment or two had passed. “The Jackal is trapped.” A longer pause followed. “The Leopard? Very well.” He clicked the phone off and put it back inside his jacket. “If I were you,” he said to the cousins in a low, menacing tone, “I’d get as far away as possible before you get hurt.” He looked more closely at Judith. “Yes…Hollywood House. Now I remember. Stop meddling! You don’t understand the danger!” He turned on his heel and ran out the front door without bothering to close it behind him.
Renie set the poker aside, shut the door, and turned the key in the lock. “Does Seumas think you’re Patrick’s accomplice from the USA?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s certainly trying to scare us. I wonder how he thinks we’re involved.” Her gaze ranged over the folders, files, and printouts that littered the common room. “If we snooped, I have a feeling we wouldn’t find any incriminating evidence. Patrick’s too sharp to be careless. Blackwell’s big dogs were here last night. I doubt that Patrick’s coming back soon, so let’s go.” She unlocked the door and peered outside. “The coast is clear.”
The salt air felt invigorating as they stepped along the narrow garden path. Patrick’s cottage looked cozy, but Judith sensed its isolation from the rest of the village as it faced the sea. Maybe, she thought, that was where Patrick felt most at home—aboard a ship or on an oil rig or in his little runabout.
The cousins remained cautious as they walked from The Hermitage and onto the High Street. From somewhere, a bell sounded six o’clock.
“Now what?” Renie said as they stood in front of the confectioner’s shop that had closed for the day.
“I’m not sure,” Judith admitted as her gaze scoured the High Street where the mist was drifting past the lampposts and shop fronts. Two cars went by, driving at a leisurely speed. A white cat crept out from behind a mailbox and disappeared in the scant space between the butcher’s and the post office.
“So quiet,” Judith remarked. “Who’d think there’s a murderer on the loose around here?”
“Who’d think the life expectancy in St. Fergna is about thirty?”
Judith looked up as she heard a crow cawing nearby. The bird sat on top of the High Street clock some twenty yards away. “You mean like Moira’s husbands, Frankie and Harry, along with Chuckie and Philip’s first wife, Bella?”
“Right. Not to mention,” Renie went on, “that Italian guy, Davey, who drove over the cliff. Was that an accident?”
“I’ve wondered, too,” Judith said. “Moira seems to attract men who die before their time. Even Chuckie had a crush on her.”
“Bad track record,” Renie murmured. “Two husbands, one would-be suitor, and a personal assistant. Patrick should move to Australia.”
“He’s already married,” Judith pointed out, starting to walk up the High Street. “I wish…I wish we had more resources. I’m at a loss.”
“How about a pub?” Renie suggested. “Drinkers always talk.”
“Yes, I’d like to be with seemingly harmless humans,” Judith said. “Let’s try the nice pub. We’ve already done Betsy at the Yew and Eye.”
The cousins headed for the alley where the Rood & Mitre was located. The white cat zipped out from the shadows and ran ahead of them before disappearing into the mist.
The pub’s door was locked. “Odd,” Judith said, peering through the small mullioned window. “The lights are on.” She knocked twice.
After a long pause, the young man with the shaggy magenta hair who had served Judith and Renie on their previous visit opened the door a crack. “Sorry, we’re closed,” he whispered. “Private party.”
Judith peered inside but the pub was empty. “Please,” she begged. “My cousin’s going blind. She needs water for her medicine.”
The young man’s eyes darted around the vacant pub. “Um…”
“Oh my God!” Renie wailed, though she kept her voice down as her hands flailed in Judith’s direction. “The dark! The gloom! I’m lost!”
The lad stepped back in alarm. “Aye, come in, come in. You’re the American ladies from Grimloch.” He moved aside and led them to the bar. “I’ll pour the water. But then you must go.”
“Sit,” Renie murmured, collapsing onto a barstool. “Stay. Woof.”
With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, the lad pushed the water-filled tumbler toward Renie, who was fumbling in her purse. “Weird,” he said softly. “She wasn’t blind yesterday. No patch.”
“It’s a condition that comes and goes,” Judith explained. “It’s brought on by the weather.”
Renie slipped something onto her tongue. She picked up the glass and swallowed. “Ahh!”
Judith, leaning on the bar, smiled at the lad. “Now she’ll be able to use her good eye on a limited basis. Thanks. What’s your name?”
“Ian,” he replied, still looking nervous.
“What kind of party? A wedding? A birthday?” Judith asked.
Ian shook his head.
Judith clasped her hands in front of her and gazed up into the beamed ceiling. “Most mysterious. How about a séance?”
Ian’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”
Judith did her best to hide her surprise, while Renie broke out into a choking fit. “I have my ways,” Judith said blithely, whacking Renie on the back several times. “Actually, I’m a medium.”
“Actually, she’s a large,” Renie gasped. “Stop hitting me!”
Ian looked justifiably confused. “You’re here for the séance?”
“Only as an observer,” Judith said, reluctantly taking fifty pounds from her wallet and placing it in front of Ian. “Where should I be?”
“Uh…I’m not sure,” Ian replied, timorously accepting the bribe. “I’ll check.” He disappeared through a hallway at the end of the bar.
Renie had stopped coughing. “You ever try to swallow a breath mint whole?” she demanded of Judith. “That’s why I choked. I wasn’t going to waste a real pill on your latest nutty masquerade. And how did you make that wild guess about a séance?”
“Hypocrite,” Judith chided. “Who played a witch, then claimed to be a seer? As for the séance…” She shrugged. “It just popped into my head. I figured it’s a gathering of Blackwell’s bigwigs. Chuckie’s death may have triggered a reaction, which is why Seumas rushed off after he got that call at Patrick’s. Maybe they use a séance as a cover. I bet Jocko and Seumas and Will are here. Jimmy Blackwell, too.”
“Then Jimmy didn’t leave the country,” Renie remarked.
“Probably not,” Judith said. “The Inverness cops had time to stop him. Remember the animals Seumas mentioned on the phone? The Eagle has flown—Patrick? The Jackal is trapped—Jimmy, stuck in Scotland? I’m not sure who the Leopard is, though.”
Ian reappeared from the back of the pub. “They’re in the office,” he said. “There’s a peephole in the storage room next door. I’ll show you.”
The cousins followed Ian down the hall to the first door on the right. A single bulb dangled from the ceiling. There was just enough room to move single-file between the supplies that lined the walls.
“Here,” Ian whispered, pointing to a small space between cartons of crisps, paper napkins, and glassware. “Sort of a bird’s-eye view.”