Highland Laddie Gone

whatsoever…”

“It isn’t that. I have to find a dentist.”

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t it be easier to ask Cameron his age? You could sneak a look at his passport.”

“Shut up. This has nothing to do with Cameron. I’ve been looking into the business about Dr. Campbell, and it turns out that he wanted to call a committee meeting this morning because of some fraud connected with the games. One of the committee members says that he found out about the fraud from a dentist.”

“Why are you playing sleuth, dear cousin? Shouldn’t you be at the library checking out books on seals and porpoises?”

Elizabeth blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, the sheriff has arrested Dr. Hutcheson, and he didn’t do it, so I’m going to try to uncover some new evidence.”

“How do you know he didn’t do it?”

“Marge is convinced of it. She’s such a saint. You wouldn’t catch me being that worried about a man who had left me for someone else.”

“No, my dear. Beneath your little pixie face lies the soul of Clytemnestra.” Seeing her look of bewilderment, he explained, “Wife of Agamemnon. When her husband came home from the Trojan War with a pretty little captive, she took a knife to both of them.”

Elizabeth thought about Heather, but her better nature refused even to consider the fantasy. “I don’t need another classics lesson,” she snapped, remembering Hughie MacDuffie. “I’m doing my good deed by trying to clear Walter Hutcheson-if he is innocent. And my only lead so far is the dentist who talked to Colin Campbell about fraud.”

“You want me to help you find a dentist?”

“Exactly.”

“How, pray?”

Elizabeth told him, steadfastly ignoring his look of increasing reluctance.

Several minutes later, the games announcer was drawn away from the microphone by his assistant. “An emergency, Grace?”

“Yes. Look at this poor boy.”

Geoffrey, who had invoked his look of suffering from The Spanish Tragedy, cringed beside her, holding a handkerchief to his cheek. “Impacted what’sit,” he murmured, swaying a bit.

The announcer’s eyes strayed back to the playing field. If he lost his place now, it might take the rest of the afternoon to get things straight again. “Oh, really?” he murmured, edging away.

“Dentist!” wailed Geoffrey.

The assistant announcer gave his arm a motherly pat. “There, there, you poor thing. Ray, couldn’t you just make a quick request for a dentist to report to the control booth?”

Ray hesitated. “Couldn’t somebody drive him to town?”

“Weekend…” whimpered Geoffrey.

Ray scowled. It was going to be easier to make the announcement than to argue with a tottering invalid. “Right,” he said. “Go and sit down over there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Geoffrey crept over to a folding chair near the announcer’s table to await further developments. After a minute or two Elizabeth slid into the empty chair beside him. “Good work!” she whispered. “You must have been very convincing!”

“Yes. I hope you’re equally persuasive when the tooth fairies arrive, so that they don’t remove my jaw in an excess of Samaritanism.”

“I just hope I can figure out which one I need to question.”

“I think you ought to stick to less complicated good deeds in the future,” Geoffrey remarked.

Elizabeth nodded. It wasn’t entirely an act of charity, though. If she could clear Walter Hutcheson of the murder charge, then Heather would still be a safely married woman, and then whatever there was between her and Cameron wouldn’t matter. Would it?

Ten minutes later, only one person responded to the broadcast appeal-a diffident young man in a blazing yellow and orange tartan. “I don’t carry any tools with me,” he explained. “But I thought I’d just come along and offer advice, if you needed any.”

“Thank you very much for coming,” said Elizabeth politely. “Actually, I needed to ask you a few questions about the murder.”

He gasped. “I’ve already spoken to the sheriff.” Noticing Geoffrey for the first time, he began to back away. “It was a trap, wasn’t it?” he hissed. “I didn’t mean to tell them, sir…”

Geoffrey lowered his handkerchief and glared at the cowering dentist. “You would do well to give this young lady all your cooperation,” he said sternly. “She is an operative.”

“Who is this?” muttered Elizabeth.

“I’m Jerry Buchanan, ma’am. And I just wanted another tartan!”

Tartan! Elizabeth nodded grimly. “And you discussed this with Colin Campbell, didn’t you?”

“Well… yes. I know he wasn’t one of us, but I knew that he was an expert on Scottish tartans and things, and I didn’t think it would do any harm to ask.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, I asked him who assigned tartans to the different clans, and how you got in touch with them, and he wanted to know why I was asking.” Jerry glanced about nervously. “At first I refused to tell him, but then when I asked if an earl had the power to change his clan’s tartan, he started to browbeat me, and I guess I let some information slip about the S.R.A.”

Elizabeth, who was mystified, was about to ask what the S.R.A. was, but Geoffrey interrupted her, “The organization was news to him, of course?”

“He was furious about it. Wanted to know who was behind it.”

“And you told him…?”

“I didn’t mention you!” Jerry protested. “Honest! Well, I’d forgotten your name, actually.”

“So you told him about Lachlan,” said Geoffrey smoothly.

“I may have mentioned him.”

Geoffrey stood up with the dignity of an irate prince. “We will take no action against you,” he said grandly. “But your earldom is canceled.”

Jerry Buchanan nodded miserably. “Just don’t kill me.”

“Out of my sight!” thundered Geoffrey. He kept up the pose of outrage until the yellow and orange tartan had disappeared into the crowd on the sidelines.

“What the devil is going on?” Elizabeth demanded. “And why do you know anything about it?” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh, that. I told you that it was handy to know Shakespeare. Apparently, I stumbled on to the password of a terrorist organization.”

“Terrorists? You mean they killed Dr. Campbell?”

“No. They don’t kill anybody, dear. They just think they do.” He explained to Elizabeth about Lachlan Forsyth’s scheme for profiting from the misplaced patriotism of the more radical Scottish-Americans. “He told me all about it after I crashed the conspirators’ party. He really didn’t feel too bad about taking their money. The way he figured it, he was keeping them from doing real harm with their money, and he provided them with a little excitement. It was very theatrical, really.”

“You have the morals of a fungus!” Elizabeth informed him. “I suppose you wouldn’t have dreamed of reporting this to the sheriff?”

“I didn’t feel that it was relevant. Lachlan is a con man, not a killer.”

“Ha! Does Cameron know about this?”

“I told him a little while ago. That worm of a dentist may have forgotten my name when he was talking to Colin Campbell, but he dropped it in front of the sheriff quick enough. They hauled me in for questioning this morning as a high-ranking official in the S.R.A.”

“What about Cameron?”

“Well, that may have been my fault. In an excess of youthful spirits last night…”