Ally got her purse out, paid for her purchases and beat a hasty retreat.
When Ally got home, she found the girls sitting on a garden seat, concentrating on their phones. Occasionally, one or the other would toss the ball for Flora to retrieve.
‘We had a real nice walk,’ Janey said.
Ally was amused to see them wearing their dancing medals around their necks. ‘Do you do much Scottish dancing in Canada?’ she asked.
‘Oh sure,’ said Julie. ‘We keep lots of Scottish traditions. And Daddy took us all over Scotland before…’
‘But we’re not going to be coming here again,ever,’ said Janey. ‘Not after this.’ She blew her nose.
‘I can hardly blame you,’ Ally admitted, ‘but it’s such a shame because there’s so much to see.’
‘Will they ever find who did this?’ asked Julie, her voice breaking.
‘I’m sure they will,’ Ally replied, ‘and we have a very good detective on the case.’
‘Is he the cute one with the lovely smile?’ asked Janey.
Ally smiled. ‘Yes, Detective Inspector Kandahar.’
‘Mom says she quite fancies him,’ added Julie.
Their mother has recovered mighty quickly,Ally thought.
‘It’s got to be one of the competitors,’ Janey said, ‘because, let’s face it, they were all jealous of Dad. I overheard two of them talking, saying that Dad should have stayed in Canada, where he belonged. And the other one said, “I’d like to send him home in a box.” Isn’t that a mean thing to say?’
‘Yes, it’s a horrible thing to say,’ Ally agreed.
‘Mom’s upset for Uncle Angus too,’ Janey said. ‘Did you know he was Mom’s uncle?’
‘Yes, I did know,’ Ally said. ‘He’s a nice old boy.’
‘Well,’ Janey continued, ‘nice or not, everyone’s blaming him.’
‘Because he’s got the keys to everywhere,’ added her sister.
‘But the gun cabinet was broken into,’ Ally said, ‘so the keys weren’t needed.’
‘And who else would know where to find that gun store?’ Janey asked. ‘So it’s got to be someone in this village! Because it sure as hell wasn’t any of us.’
‘Unless it was Uncle Greg,’ Julie said with a snort.
‘Don’t say that!’ Janey nudged her sister and looked somewhat guiltily in Ally’s direction.
‘Well, he and Daddy weren’t getting on too well, were they?’ Julie persisted. ‘And he wasn’t with us when Daddy was killed.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Janey snapped. ‘He was bored, wasn’t he? He’d only gone over to the tent for a drink!’
‘So far as we know,’ said her sister ominously.
Ally hadn’t liked Greg all that much, but she certainly wouldn’t have considered him to be a suspect. Until now. Was it time to work on the board again?
The board was actually the back of a painted wooden picture – a still life of fruits brought back from Italy years ago by her grandmother – which hung on the wall behind the kitchen table.
Ally had once been a researcher on a TV programme in Edinburgh. When she’d done her research, she’d always put the problem in the middle and the possible solutions around the centre, like the numbers on a clock face – the most likely candidate at the top of the dial, at twelve o’clock, and the least likelyat the foot, at six o’clock. When she’d used her board previously, she’d found it helped to clarify her own thoughts. She would glue a large piece of paper to the back of the picture, write the victim’s name in the centre of a circle and place the suspects – on Post-it notes – all the way around, as on an imaginary clock. The Post-it notes could be moved, or removed, as necessary.
Ally found a large piece of white paper, drew a circle on it using a dinner plate and wrote ‘Archie Armstrong’ in the centre. Then she got out her Post-it notes for the suspects. But whowereher suspects? Who might have killed the Atlantic Warrior? Ross would tease her for her efforts, of course. ‘You and your board!’ he’d say, laughing. ‘You’ve become addicted to sleuthing!’ And she couldn’t deny that she had.
