I took a deep breath and said calmly, “Can you describe her for me? It’s really important.”
“I don’t know?” she whined. “Oriental? Dark hair? Short? Nice jacket?”
Helen.
“Thanks very much.” I didn’t want to make her cry by pointing out that the politically correct term was Asian, not Oriental. She hurried off and I was left alone in the small conference room with Helen’s note and no clue what to do next.
I stared at the note.
I know who killed Kyle.
Had Helen called the police? Why would she take a chance and send a note about the killer to me?
Meet me at St. Margaret’s Chapel at 16:30.
I assumed that meant four thirty. Helen had been born and raised in California, which was one more reason we’d bonded during that summer in Austin, Texas, when we decided that earthquakes were easier to live with than hurricanes. But she’d spent the last few years living with Martin in London, so maybe she’d acclimated to the British method of using the twenty-four-hour clock. Maybe.
More than likely, though, the note was a hoax and not from Helen at all. Which meant Helen was in trouble.
Unless Helen had killed Kyle. No, I would never believe that. But if she’d sent the note, then someone close to her was the killer. Martin? Serena? A dozen other people? Oh, hell.
I checked my watch. My workshop had officially ended at three thirty so it was now three forty. It would take me twenty minutes to walk up to the castle and another ten or fifteen minutes to reach St. Margaret’s Chapel on the castle grounds. I figured I’d be perfectly safe in the middle of the afternoon at Edinburgh Castle, surrounded by hundreds of tourists, not to mention the Scottish Guard.
Besides, I wouldn’t be going alone. I wasn’t a complete idiot, despite my recent gaffe with Royce.
Royce.
Had he gone after Helen? But why? Why would he care if Helen and Kyle had been engaged? I could understand if he went after Serena. She stood to inherit Kyle’s portion of the business, but Helen?
And what did Helen have to do with the Robert Burns book? Had Royce killed Kyle to keep him from presenting the book to the world, and now realized he would have to kill Helen to keep it quiet? But wait, he already knew I had the book.
I was driving myself crazy and wasting time wondering about Royce. I needed to find Helen. But first, I needed to find the police.
I stuck the note in my jacket pocket and rushed through the room cleaning up, stuffing tools and leftover supplies into my bag. When I walked out of the conference room, the corridor was empty. I wondered briefly where Constable McKenzie was, but figured I’d run into him on my way upstairs.
As I hopped on the escalator, I pulled out my cell phone to call Derek, hoping to convince him to go with me to the castle. He would think I was nuts, I realized, after I’d left a detailed message on his voice mail. Once in the lobby, I found a house phone and dialed his suite. No answer there, either, so I left another message.
I gazed around the lobby, hoping to see Angus or one of his constables. The police had been omnipresent from the beginning of the book fair, but now I didn’t see any sign of them. Figured-you could never find a cop when you needed one. I asked the hotel operator to connect me with the police and had to leave another message, this one for Angus.
As I hung up the phone, I heard someone call my name and turned.
It was Serena standing not more than four feet away from me. Had she been listening to my slightly hysterical message for Angus?
“Hi, Serena.”
“Hi, I thought that was you.”
“It’s me. Listen, I’ve got to get-”
She licked her lips nervously. “I was wondering if you’d seen Helen.”
“Not lately, why?”
She wrung her hands. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’m a bit worried.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I saw her awhile ago. She was arguing with Royce and he was yelling.”
“Arguing about what?”
“I don’t know, but then that other man pulled her away and started yelling at Royce.”
“What other man?”
“I think it’s her boyfriend or something?”
“Do you mean Martin? Her husband? Tall? Blond? Kind of skinny?”
“That’s him. He’s her husband?” She looked embarrassed. “Ah.” She shook her head, gave me a look of befuddlement, then waved off her words with both hands. “In that case, I’m sure everything’s fine then. Well, he was mad and all, but as long as they’re married, it’s probably not-”
“Serena, what exactly did Martin do with Helen? And where’s Royce?”
She went back to wringing her hands. The woman really was a basket case. “I overheard Helen tell her husband that she needed to go to the castle, so they left together. But they didn’t look happy. In fact, he was practically dragging her out of here and she kept trying to pull away.” Her chirpy voice rose higher and higher. “I called to her and she looked at me in complete and utter terror. I didn’t know what to think. But if he’s her husband, well, then maybe it’s all right. Sometimes I worry too much. Maybe they were simply in a hurry to get somewhere. But then Royce ran after them. That was odd. But perhaps I misread the whole event. I tend to overdramatize things.”
Shizzle. I had no time to think about what a complete moron Serena was. Martin must’ve written that note-or forced Helen to do so. And where was Royce? I needed to find a cop and get to St. Margaret’s Chapel now.
“Yoo-hoo!”
I whipped around and saw my mother waving at me from the hotel entry. She was carrying several shopping bags, and Dad followed behind with several of his own. Robin trailed them both, wearing a new plaid beret and a tired grin.
I turned back. “Look, Serena, thanks for telling me about Helen. I’ve got to go.”
Her face was a mask of tragedy. “I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“Right, me too. See you later.” I ran across the lobby to meet my parents.
“Mom, hi,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got to-”
“We went crazy!” Mom said as she dropped all the bags on the carpet, then opened one up and whipped out a bright red Royal Stewart plaid skirt. “Matching kilts for your father and me! Kilt, jacket, sporran, shoes, socks, sash, the whole enchilada.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, momentarily stunned by all that plaid. “Dad, you sure you want to be seen wearing a skirt around Dharma?”
“I think the whole thing’s a gas,” he said, always up for a challenge.
“We’ll have everyone wearing kilts within six months,” Mom predicted.
“Right on.” Dad grinned. “Let’s go put this stuff away and hit the pub.”
“I can’t right now,” I said. “I need to go to St. Margaret’s Chapel up at the castle.”
“You’re going to church?” Dad asked, baffled.
“No, it’s a… a meeting, up at the castle, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave right now.”
“Let’s all go,” Mom said merrily.
I started to protest. “That’s probably not-”
“Groovy,” Dad said, ignoring me. “We’ll leave everything with the bellman.”
I sent Robin a pleading look. “Will you come, too?”
“More the merrier,” she said, then added more quietly, “What’s going on?”
“Looks like we’re going to church.”
As we walked quickly up Castle Hill toward the ancient fortress, I thought it might be just as well that my family was along for the ride. There was safety in numbers, after all.
I pulled Robin close. “Do you have Angus’s phone number?”
“Yeah, should I call him?”
“I left him a message and another two for Derek, but I’d feel better if you tried Angus again.”
“What’s going on, Brooklyn?”
I pulled the note from my pocket. “Got this from Helen.”
She read it and frowned. “Weird. Did she call the police?”