arrangements for time off,” he pointed out. “It’d be known when he’d be away.”
“I see what you mean,” Judith said. “Is MacRae not as capable?”
Patrick shrugged. “Not necessarily. MacGowan knows everybody and everything about this area. He’s very good at what he does. MacRae is an outsider, which is a hindrance. That’s why I’ve taken it upon myself to get to the bottom of Harry’s murder.”
Judith nodded. “In your capacity as security chief at Blackwell?”
“Yes.” Patrick took a quick swig of his whiskey. “I started out with the company working on oil platforms in the North Sea. It was dangerous, if exciting, work. In my off hours I figured out ways to improve employee safety. I caught upper management’s attention and found myself propelled ever upward. I’m in charge of security, which makes me a sort of corporate policeman.”
Judith’s first inclination was to say that it wasn’t wise for amateurs to get involved. Realizing her own hypocrisy, she nodded. “You think you can help with the official inquiry?”
“I know the players far better than MacRae—or even MacGowan,” Patrick said with conviction. He leaned forward, a glint in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips. “So tell me—where’s the jewel case?”
Judith was taken aback. “What jewel case?” she asked.
Patrick chuckled. “You know. The one in your purse.”
“Stolen,” Judith said. “The theft has been reported to the police.”
Patrick swore softly. He took another gulp of whiskey and recovered his composure. “Do the police know what was in the case?”
“No,” Judith said.
Patrick’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Did you read the contents?”
Judith felt the tension build inside as her hold on the cocktail glass tightened. “Yes.”
“Love stuff,” Renie said.
“Fake,” Patrick said.
“Fake?” Judith repeated.
He nodded. “Will told me about them. Contrived to make it sound as if Moira was having an affair, probably with me. It’s an obvious attempt to implicate her in Harry’s death by providing the motive of a lover.” He chuckled and shrugged.
“Do you know who got hold of the original emails in the first place?” Judith inquired.
“Will,” Patrick replied. “He didn’t know what to do with the bloody fabrications, so he brought them for Beth to read.”
Judith nodded. “All I know,” she said, “is that I ended up with the case in my purse and then it was swiped from my room. Who’d take it?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick admitted, getting up and going to the front window. “It’s all bosh anyway.” He stopped speaking and peered outside. A full minute passed while Judith tried to get comfortable in the too-soft side chair and Renie fidgeted with her unruly hair.
“Are we having company?” Renie asked as Patrick continued to stare through the window.
He didn’t answer, but moved to turn off the lamp by Judith’s chair. The only light came from the kitchen, casting a pale yellow glow as far as the dining room table.
“MacRae isn’t supposed to meet us here, is he?” Judith asked.
Again, Patrick didn’t answer. He walked past the cousins without a word, through the dining area and into the kitchen. Two faint clicks indicated the opening and closing of a door. Judith stared at Renie.
“I bet he left.” Renie jumped up and raced to the kitchen. A knock sounded at the front door. Judith sat very still. Renie came back into the common room. “Patrick’s gone,” she said. “Is somebody outside?”
Judith nodded. “Let’s sit tight.”
The knock sounded more loudly, followed by a masculine voice calling Patrick’s name.
“Who?” Renie whispered.
Judith shook her head. “Someone Patrick’s avoiding.” The pounding made the doorknob rattle. “Maybe we should find out.”
“Weaponry,” Renie said. “I’ll take the fireplace poker, you get a butcher knife.”
“Hold off on the armaments.” Judith moved to the door as the pounding and shouting continued. “Who is it?” she asked loudly.
The pounding stopped.
There was no chain on the door. Judith couldn’t open it enough to see who was there without letting the man inside. She repeated her request for him to identify himself.
“Seumas Bell,” he finally said. “Let me in.”
Judith opened the door. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “We’re just—”
Seumas brushed past her, glanced at Patrick’s leather jacket on the sofa, and went straight to the kitchen.
Renie had rejected Judith’s advice and was standing on the hearth holding the poker. “He didn’t see me. Are his eyes as bad as mine?”
