Renie sank into an armchair. “No luck eavesdropping at The Hermitage?”
“I’m afraid not,” Judith admitted. “Except for hearing Harry’s name mentioned, it sounded like business.”
“You’re working in the dark,” Renie said, and yawned. “By the way, if you want to talk to Mrs. Gunn, tell her I’m subject to fits of violence.”
“You are,” Judith said.
“Only when provoked.”
Judith slid off of the bed and went to the door. “I thought I heard someone out in the passageway.” She peered out into the empty corridor. “Nothing. I could’ve sworn I heard a noise.”
“I didn’t hear it,” Renie said with a shrug.
“I’d like to explore the rest of the castle,” Judith declared. “Of course I wouldn’t want to disturb Philip and Beth.”
“Beth seems okay,” Renie said. “Maybe she’ll give you a tour.”
Judith looked at her watch. “It’s going on seven. I’m going down to the drawing room for a drink.”
“You already had a drink at the pub.”
“I never finished it.”
“Too bad. I paid for it.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“No.”
“I’ll see you in a bit.” Judith went out into the passageway and closed the door behind her.
The drawing room was dark. Judith found the switch and turned on the lights. It wasn’t yet seven. The Fordyces still might show up for drinks, though it was possible that, owning a distillery, Philip would keep his favorite Scotch in his suite.
After passing the time by studying the furnishings and other decor, Judith poured herself a small Scotch-rocks. If nothing else, it’d be a conversation starter if and when the Fordyces appeared.
At seven-fifteen, she heard voices in the corridor. Female voices, she realized. A moment later, Beth Fordyce and Marie Fleming entered the drawing room.
“Mrs. Flynn,” Beth said with a smile, “did you meet Marie?”
“Yes,” Judith said, putting out her hand to Will’s voluptuous wife. “We spoke while Chuckie was misbehaving.”
Beth shook her head. “I feel so sorry for Chuckie. He’s epileptic.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Judith said. “But I assume he receives excellent medical treatment.”
“When he wants it,” Beth replied, making drinks for herself and Marie. “He’s also had a growth problem, a lack of certain hormones. You’d never guess it, but he’s almost twenty-three. Naturally, he’s bitter, and blames his father for everything.”
“What about his mother?” Judith held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m prying. But I assume his mother was Philip’s first wife.”
Beth nodded. “Yes, Bella. She died. So did his second wife. Philip has had bad luck with wives.”
“Until now,” Marie put in, accepting her glass from Beth. “My Will’s first wife passed away, too. The early demise of spouses around here is positively frightening.”
“Phil’s second wife wasn’t really that young,” Beth pointed out. “She was older than Phil, and died of cancer. Phil and I hope that the third time’s a charm for him. Maybe it’ll be the same way for Moira.”
“I doubt it,” Marie said with bite. “Moira’s in love with love. She’s shown terrible judgment when it comes to men. If they’re good-looking and have a great body, she goes for them. Beth and I are smarter than that. We both married real men, not callow boys.”
Judith was reminded of Grandma Grover’s advice: “It’s better to be an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave.” Marie and Beth might have agreed with her. “Didn’t you go to school together?” Judith asked.
“Ah yes,” Beth replied. “We three, we merry little band of lassies at a French boarding school. Moira fell for the headmaster, the gardener, and the man from animal control. She was always losing her dog.”
“On purpose, I think,” Marie said, and both young women laughed.
Judith smiled, thinking about the rich, pretty trio making mischief away from home. It was a world she’d never known, but imagined it as an enchanted life. And knew that it was no preparation for reality.
“I met Moira at the graveyard,” Judith said. “She was putting flowers on the grave of a young Italian man.”
The young women laughed again. “Davey Piazza was her personal assistant,” Beth replied. “She met him when he was playing in a rock band in Edinburgh, but the group broke up soon afterwards, and somehow he ended up in St. Fergna at loose ends. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to play the drums or race sports cars. Moira felt sorry for him—he had wrenching dark eyes—so she offered him a job.”
“And bought him a sports car,” Marie added. “He drove it over a cliff just beyond the village.”
“My goodness!” Judith exclaimed. “What’s the average age around here? About twenty-five?”
The remark had a sobering effect on both young women. “Well,” Beth began, “several people have died young. My brother Frankie was sickly from birth. My mum worried so about him. She’d waited so long to have children, and even consulted astrologers. She still does, in fact.”
