Judith looked faintly sheepish. “It was the dried heather by the desk.” She turned back to MacRae. “One of the messages mentioned the last heather of the season. I grow the plant in my garden at home, and heather doesn’t bloom past September. There was also something about going to bed early and the sun setting. That sounds more like late summer or early fall than this time of year.”
MacRae looked impressed; Renie seemed annoyed. “Do go on,” the detective urged.
“That means,” Judith explained, “they were written months ago, probably in September, before David Piazza died. Those emails were intended to sound as if Davey and Moira were the ones having the affair and possibly plotting to get rid of Harry. Whoever wrote them probably showed the emails to Harry in order to incite him to violence.”
“Fascinating.” MacRae smiled in approval, cleared his throat, and folded his hands on the desk. “Please don’t take this as criticism. I realize you have your own methods when you’re on the job.”
“I…” Judith started to ask if there might be confusion about what the “job” really was, but thought better of it. This wasn’t the time to get sidetracked. “The emails were mistakenly put into my purse by Moira’s maid, Elise. They were meant for Beth Fordyce, not me. I think Moira wanted Beth to see them and perhaps get rid of them for her. If you ask Will Fleming, I think you’ll learn that he found them and brought them to Grimloch. The case they were in ended up at Hollywood House in my purse. I have no idea who later took it out of my room.” She paused and put Davey’s jacket on the desk. “There’s one more important thing,” Judith said, and offered her theory about the pub receipt.
“My word!” MacRae exclaimed softly. “You are the goods, Mrs. Flynn! I’ll review MacGowan’s notes on the accident. Are you returning to Grimloch?”
“Yes,” Judith said, getting up. “Gibbs is waiting for us. Unless we can help find Joe and Bill. Doing nothing will drive us crazy.”
MacRae thought for a moment. “Really, I don’t see how you can help. I’ve requested extra personnel to expand the search. I’ll keep in close touch, of course.”
“I understand,” Judith said as she and Renie were escorted from the study by MacRae. “I can’t believe all three were abducted.”
“Very puzzling,” MacRae admitted.
MacRae escorted the cousins outside. The Morris saloon was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Gibbs?” Renie asked, looking in every direction.
“Perhaps,” MacRae suggested, “he was called away.”
“I don’t think he has a cell phone,” Judith said.
A horn honk caught their attention. “Need a lift?” Barry shouted.
“We do,” Renie said. “We’ve been stranded by Gibbs.”
“Come on,” Barry said from where he’d stopped in the middle of the road. “Where to?”
“Grimloch,” Judith replied, “but if Gibbs went there without us, the skiff’s on the other side. We’ll be stuck on the beach.”
“Let’s look,” Barry said, making a wide U-turn in the middle of the road and almost running down MacRae, who was still standing in front of the inn. “Whew! Good thing I missed him.”
Judith braced herself on the dashboard. “You might be a little more careful,” she advised. “The rain is coming down harder and the roads are slick.”
“Aye,” Barry said blithely. “Sorry I couldn’t fetch you earlier. Mrs. Gunn ordered four pizzas, and it takes a bit to go to her place and back. Family doings, maybe,” Barry said.
“It’s early for dinner,” Judith pointed out.
“Mrs. Gunn’s different from other folk,” Barry said.
“Yes.” Judith made no further comment, but she wondered if Kate had called some kind of emergency meeting. Maybe, she thought, the reason was related to Kate’s abrupt departure from the Rood & Mitre.
The High Street was almost deserted on this stormy late afternoon. Barry shot through the coast road intersection; the car rumbled down to the beach where the skiff was tied up at the edge of the paved area.
“Guess Gibbs went on a lark,” Barry said. “Want me to row?”
“Well…you’ll have to,” Judith said. “We owe you two jackets.”
Barry helped the cousins get into the skiff. “What about The Bruce?” Renie asked. “Doesn’t he like boats?”
“He gets seasick,” Barry said as he plied the oars.
Five minutes later, the cousins were inside the castle. “I wonder where Gibbs went,” Judith said as they trudged up the stone stairs to their rooms. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.”
“Why should he be spared?” Renie snapped. “A lot of us are in danger.” She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Your room or mine?”
Judith shrugged. “Yours, I guess. You’ve got a view of the village.”
“If we can see it through the rain,” Renie said, leading the way. “It’s after four o’clock and I’m still not hungry, but I’m getting crabby as well as worried sick.”
Inside the Joneses’ room, Renie spotted a piece of paper a few inches from the door. “What’s this? A ransom note for our husbands?”
“What does it say?” Judith asked anxiously.
“‘Dinner will not be served tonight.’ That’s it.”
“I wonder why,” Judith said. “Does this have to do with Gibbs?”
“Maybe it’s got more to do with Harry’s funeral tomorrow,” Renie said. “Both Gibbses must be terribly upset.”
“True,” Judith agreed, beginning to pace and fighting the urge to bite her nails. “I cannot just stay here and have a nervous breakdown!”
“We don’t have a choice,” Renie pointed out, taking her eye medication kit off of the bureau. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“I don’t feel like drinking.” Judith stopped pacing and stared at Renie. “You aren’t wearing your patch!”
Renie’s smiled wanly. “My eye’s much better. I wish my nerves were.”
“Me, too.” Judith wandered over to the window. “There’s a boat heading this way. It looks like the police launch.” She turned back to face Renie. “Let’s see who it is.”
“Bill and Joe?” Renie asked excitedly, heading for the stairs.
“Wouldn’t MacRae call us if they’d been found?” Judith asked.
“Maybe the storm screwed up the phones,” Renie suggested. “The wind sounds like it’s blowing through the chinks in the castle walls.”
The cousins waited at the courtyard door. Five minutes passed. Judith and Renie exchanged several worried glances. Judith finally opened the door to peer outside. “Nothing.”
Another five minutes passed. Judith looked again. Several people Judith couldn’t identify in the gathering gloom were crossing the courtyard, headed for the Fordyce apartments. Except, she noticed, one lone figure was heading their way.
“Gibbs,” Judith said, leaving the door open.
Wind and rain blew into the entry area. Gibbs walked slowly, head down, shoulders slumped. He didn’t look up when he entered. “Patrick jumped out of the window and escaped,” he mumbled, and continued down the passageway.
“Whoa!” Renie said under her breath. “How does he know? Did he help Patrick get away? And why did Gibbs arrive in the police launch?”
Judith leaned against the door she’d just closed. “Patrick probably jumped out of the window at the inn. He’s very fit. He could do it easily.”
“Did Gibbs help him get away?” Renie asked.
“Maybe,” Judith said, “that’s why he left us stranded. Come on. Let’s ask him.”
The cousins headed for the kitchen. When they entered, there was no sign of Gibbs. His wife glanced up from the counter where she’d been peeling carrots. Mrs. Gibbs’s red-rimmed eyes indicated that she’d been crying.
“Where’s Gibbs?” Judith asked politely.
“I dinna ken,” Mrs. Gibbs mumbled, and dropped the peeler onto the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Renie volunteered.
The older woman’s hands were shaking. “Thank ye,” she said to Renie. “It’s all for naught.”