Judith and Renie avoided looking at each other lest they seem guilty for having been numbered among the lurkers. The office arrangement was somewhat different from what Judith had seen through the spy-hole. The table had been moved and apparently was used as a desk. There was an old rail-back chair behind the table. A half dozen folding chairs leaned against the far wall.
“I’m afraid,” Kate said as she sat down behind the table, “you’ll have to use those metal chairs. The amenities here are sparse.”
“No problem,” Judith said as Renie hauled out two chairs and set them up. “You look troubled, Kate.”
The other woman nodded. “I am. I was very curt with you in the cemetery. Afterwards, I realized you were only trying to help.” Kate turned to Renie. “You claim not to have the sight. Yet by my husband’s grave you mentioned whiskey and oil and water. It dawned on me after I walked away that you understood my conundrum.”
“I was guessing,” Renie said.
Kate smiled ironically. “More than a guess.” As Renie started to protest, Kate held up a hand. “No. You must be a Scorpio, Serena.”
“True,” Renie said.
Kate turned to Judith. “You’re a Libra, Judith, a social animal, magnetic, charming, and always seeking balance in your life. You’re oversensitive, though.” She looked again at Renie. “You are competitive, energetic, and hurl yourself into your work, which is often of a creative nature. You do nothing in moderation and you make a fearsome foe. But there is a deeply intuitive side to Scorpios. That’s why I had to speak with you.” She paused, apparently to let her words sink in.
Judith smiled. “I have to admit your assessment of our personalities is accurate.”
“You’re perceptive, Kate,” Renie said. “But how are we to help?”
“I’ll explain,” Kate replied. “My children are the most important thing in my life. I’ve already lost too many of them. Now I may lose my former daughter-in-law.” She paused again and licked her dry lips. “I believe that Moira is in mortal danger.”
“Why?” Judith blurted.
Kate picked up some paper clips from a small box and began linking them together. “This is very confidential. As I mentioned, Philip Fordyce and my husband had a long-standing agreement to ship Grimglen liquor. That’s how Beth met Philip. He’s known her since she was born.” Kate smiled faintly, as if recalling the moment when her baby daughter was first placed in her arms. “Philip has had some misfortune along the way, not just with his distillery business, but with his family life. He’s lost two wives, and his only son was born with severe problems. Now, of course, poor Chuckie is dead. Philip has no heir. If only Beth…” Kate dropped one of the paper clips onto the desk and slowly picked it up. “Beth hasn’t been able to get pregnant. She’s been to fertility clinics all over the world. Philip won’t adopt. Like my own husband, he’s convinced that bloodlines are all that matter.”
“That’s ego,” Judith remarked. “But how does this affect Moira?”
“Blackwell Petroleum,” Kate said, the paper-clip chain now at least two feet long. “Many years ago Moira’s father gave shares of the company’s stock to his closest friends, including my husband.” She grimaced, causing Judith to wonder if Eanruig Gunn had passed on part of his gift to his mistress, Diana Porter-Breze. “After James Blackwell died, his widow wasn’t so generous. The majority shares were left to Moira. If she dies or is convicted of murder, her half brother Jimmy will wrest those shares from her or become her baby’s legal guardian. I don’t trust him an inch, despite his professed moral rectitude.”
“I still don’t understand,” Judith put in.
“I’m getting to that,” Kate said, adding the last paper clip in the box. “As a wedding present, Moira gave Beth some shares of Blackwell. Moira and Beth and Marie were so close, like sisters—and, of course, when Moira married Frankie, she and Beth became sisters-in-law. I won’t say that Moira and I had a loving relationship, but I appreciated her care for Frankie, who was never physically strong. Strangely enough,” Kate continued, almost as if musing to herself, “when Marie married Will Fleming, Moira didn’t attend the wedding, and gave them a rather ugly vase.”
“No stock?” Renie asked.
Kate shook her head. “There was a falling-out between Moira and Marie for a time. I don’t think Moira cared for Will or trusted him. Recently, they’ve all made up. But Moira’s most significant lack of generosity was her refusal to give Harry any Blackwell shares when she married him. Naturally, he was resentful. The company is in turmoil, possibly because Jocko Morton had been up to no good. Moira has been indifferent, but she’s never had a head for business—which is why Philip and I want to buy the company from her.”
“Wow!” Renie exclaimed softly. “That’s quite an acquisition.”
“Yes,” Kate agreed. “But we can manage it financially. My own family is very wealthy—banking, mainly. Now that Harry’s dead, the real obstacle is Jimmy Blackwell. I wouldn’t put it past him to harm Moira and prevent Philip and me from buying her out. Jimmy is power-mad.”
“Do you think he killed Harry?” Judith asked.
Kate held up the paper-clip chain, which she’d fashioned into a loop with a dangling tail. “Perhaps. That’s not important to me at the moment. Jimmy must go.” She dangled the paper clips from her fingers. They reminded Judith of a rosary.
Or a noose.
Judith still didn’t understand why Kate Gunn had unburdened herself so frankly.
“Kate,” Judith began, “why are you telling us all this?”
Kate put the paper-clip chain aside. “I have my sources of information. I’m aware of who you really are. That’s why I know you have ways to help me solve my problem with Jimmy.” Kate’s eyes sparkled with apparent excitement. “You’re CIA.”
“What?” Judith gasped.
“There’s no need to pretend,” Kate asserted. “My source is above reproach. Let’s say that the law is on my side.”
Judith was so flabbergasted she couldn’t speak.
Renie looked a bit dazed, but recovered quickly. “You’re talking about a covert operation,” she said to Kate. “We need information about Jimmy’s habits, schedule, and so on. We also need lunch. Judith and I will give our orders to Ian. What would you like?”
“Ah…” It was Kate’s turn to look taken aback. “A sandwich. Fish paste will do.”
“Fine.” Renie got up and hauled Judith out of the chair. “Let’s go. I feel like a burger.”
“You act like an idiot!” Judith hissed as soon as the cousins were in the corridor. “Why in the world are you stringing Kate along? And where did she hear that we’re a couple of spies?”
“Listen,” Renie said, deadly serious. “Kate’s got spy-holes all over the place. I’ll bet she’s got the cops bugged somehow. Maybe she overheard MacRae and Ogilvie talking about your detection skills. Or,” she added a bit uncertainly, “they also think you’re from the CIA.”
“They’ve never actually mentioned the FATSO web site,” Judith said. “It’s possible they’re confused, too.”
“Then make the most of it,” Renie said. “Kate probably knows more about what’s going on than the cops do. Let’s find out.”
“Brilliant,” Judith said as they went down the hall. “I think.”
Renie sought out Ian while Judith poked her head into the kitchen. “Grizel?”
Ian’s mother looked up from the grill. “Ah! I hear there’s a meeting in the back room. What’s Mrs. Gunn up to now?”
“A few tricks,” Judith said, offering Grizel a confidential smile. “You know her. Who’d resist an occasional peek in that spy-hole?”