Glen nodded absently while working his forensic magic on the bureau. “Given the time frame, who do you know was in the castle between two-and three-thirty?”
Judith thought back. It was going on five o’clock, but it seemed as if hours and hours had passed since she’d discovered that the silver case was missing. “Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, Mrs. Fordyce, and Chuckie.”
“Don’t forget Will Fleming,” Renie added. “We don’t know when Philip Fordyce got back from wherever he’d gone.”
“Mmm,” Glen murmured. “May I take your fingerprints, ladies?”
“Of course,” Judith said. “My husband’s are on file with the U.S. authorities because he’s a retired police detective.”
Glen looked at Renie. “Mrs. Jones?”
She shook her head. “Can’t. Don’t have fingerprints.”
“Beg pardon?” said the constable.
Renie held up her hands. “I have fingers, but no prints. When I was working my way through college I had a civil service job with the city. Everyone had to be fingerprinted, but mine wouldn’t take. My grooves were too shallow. Sorry. I’m a freak of nature.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Judith said, “in many ways.” She ignored Renie’s sharp, one-eyed glare. “I’ll vouch for her. I’ve been with her almost the entire time.”
Glen gave Judith a sympathetic look. “We’ll do our best to recover the case.” With a tip of the cap, he departed.
Judith sighed. “I feel just horrible about Chuckie. We should’ve prevented it, but I don’t know how.”
“Coz, you know perfectly well that people do what they want to do,” Renie reminded Judith. “His murder seems to limit the suspects.”
Judith was pacing the room. “Maybe. But we really don’t know who was at the castle today. Somebody could’ve sneaked in. There doesn’t appear to be a security system.”
Renie allowed that was so. “It’s after five. What now?”
Judith considered. “We could find Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs and ask if they know if any other outsiders came to Grimloch.”
Renie shrugged. “Okay. But Mrs. Gibbs was going to do some cleaning in the Fordyce quarters before she started dinner.”
“Then we’ll look for Mr. Gibbs. Go get your coat. He may be outside, though it’s almost five and getting dark.”
Five minutes later, the cousins met in the passageway and started down the winding staircase. At the bottom they saw Gibbs.
“Message for ye,” he said, holding out a slip of paper.
Judith thanked Gibbs and read the brief note before turning to Renie. “We’re wanted by the police.”
This is odd,” Judith said as the cousins hurried across the courtyard. “The message says he’ll meet us and take us into the village to talk about the latest information.”
“Maybe MacRae sent the message before he found out about Chuckie,” Renie pointed out as they got into the lift. “How come you didn’t mention that odd voice we keep hearing to the cops?”
“I’d rather they didn’t think we’re gaga,” Judith replied as the lift creaked its way downward.
A jolt that made the cousins cringe signaled that the cage had hit the ground. It was not only growing dark, but the mist had settled in, shrouding the far shore. As the cousins walked out onto the rocky ground, a strange noise startled them both.
“It’s that bird,” Judith said, peering in every direction. “The great northern diver.” She pointed to an outcropping some ten yards above them on the face of the cliff. The bird let out another eerie cry, then flapped its wings and flew off into the mist.
“Creepy,” Renie whispered. “The voice of death?”
Judith shivered. “It seems like it. First Harry, then Chuckie. They both hated that bird.”
Shaken into silence, the cousins waited for a few minutes before Judith saw a running light and heard the sound of a motor moving toward them. “Here comes MacRae now,” she said. “The storm has passed.”
“But there’s not much visibility,” Renie remarked. “Or is that because I’m half blind?”
“Both,” Judith replied as the motor went into neutral and the craft floated toward the shore.
“Hop in,” said a voice out of the mist.
Judith and Renie helped each other into the runabout. “Thanks, Inspector.” Judith settled onto the cushioned sheet. “I can’t see you very well in this fog.”
There was no immediate reply. Judith waited, hearing the waves slap softly against the boat. The motor purred as they began to move out into the channel. “The inspector couldn’t make it,” the man finally said. “I’m filling in for him. The name’s Patrick Cameron. We’ve not been formally introduced.”
Judith exchanged a quick, wary glance with Renie. “You’re not with the police,” Judith said.
“Not officially,” Patrick said. “Hold on. We’re almost ashore.”
“Hold it!” Renie cried. “If you’re not a cop, I’m not a passenger.”
She stood up but Judith grabbed her arm. “Sit. You can’t swim.”
