Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
When I returned to the office, we already had patients waiting. They were hours early, but that sometimes happened here. If they hadn’t been able to book an appointment online or through Abigail, they just showed up early.
Since I loved my job, I never minded. But Abigail was always annoyed with them for breaking the rules.
“I told Mrs. Gilroy that you are fully booked and offered to make her an appointment for tomorrow,” Abigail said louder than her normal very quiet speaking voice.
“And the same with Mr. Cahill. Though his is more of an emergency.”
Mr. Cahill held a bag of ice to his cheek.
“That must have hurt,” I said to him.
“Aye. My fault, I wasn’t paying attention. My Bessie was trying to get my attention. She’s a good girl.”
I turned back to Abigail. “Bessie?”
“One of his highland cows,” she said as if that explained everything. In this small town we had a fair number of cow-related injuries as there were more of them than humans.
“You’d better come back,” I said.
“I was here first,” Mrs. Gilroy said, bristling. She had her knitting needles crossed, and her eyebrows were up. She was dressed as if she might be going to church. Her ailments were real though. She was tough, and only came in when she wasn’t her best.
“And you dinnae have an appointment,” Abigail reminded her. “We see those patients in order of the worst trauma.”
I hid my grin with a cough. Abigail had a way of putting people in their place in her matter-of-fact soft speaking voice.
The older woman huffed but sat back in her chair and went back to her knitting.
By the end of the day, I’d put casts on assorted broken bones, mostly belonging to tourists who were learning how to surf in the cold sea.
But there had also been a fair amount of summer colds, mostly children. Something was going around before school even began.
“Is it me? Or has cold and flu season started earlier than normal?” I locked the front door after the last patient had walked out that afternoon.
“Aye. We have a full schedule for tomorrow as well, many of them with the same complaints.”
“I can’t do much for colds, except to check and make sure they don’t test for flu.”
She shrugged. “I think given the viruses going around the last few years, people may be more paranoid about that sort of thing.”
I nodded. “And who could blame them? You’re right, it’s better to be certain. I do have something to add to my schedule. I’ll be gone Friday afternoon and night. I should be back sometime early Saturday.”
Abigail stared up at me. “Oh?” I could tell she was curious.
“Uh. Ewan asked me to help him out by being his date at his mother’s gala.”
“Oh. Ohhhh.” Her face lit with surprise.
“It’s not a big deal. Just a friend doing another friend a favor.”
“Riggght.” She absolutely didn’t believe me.
My phone dinged with a message from Mara. Saved by the bell. She asked if I was ready to go shopping.
I was exhausted, but I did need to find a dress or two. I texted back that I’d meet her in front of the pub in fifteen minutes.
Then I remembered the photo from earlier. “Abigail, you’re going to think I’m weird, but I promise this has to do with the case.”
She’d been typing on the computer and stopped. “What is it?” She asked curiously.
I pulled up the photo of the couple.
“I think I remember reading that Mr. Burns, the partner of Mr. Jacks, was married. But I don’t think this woman is his wife. I swear I’ve seen her before, but I can’t remember in what context.”
I showed her the picture.
She grunted, which was very unlike her. “You are right. That is not his wife, who is a patient of ours. I think that is Davina, who sang at the pub last month during open mic night. Henry left for a few minutes to check on something, but I can have him confirm when he comes back.”
“Was I there? I don’t remember her.”
“You were there. It’s the hair,” she said. “Last month she was a redhead. She changes the color fairly regularly.”
“But she is definitely not his wife, right?”
“No. I cannae believe he would be doing that in front of the town. His poor wife will be crushed.”
“Well, we won’t be the ones to tell her,” I said. I gave her a look.
She held up her hands. “Not a word from me, but if they were in front of the pub, the whole town will know by now.”
I laughed. “You aren’t wrong. I’ll send the picture to Ewan. It may not have anything to do with our case, but you never know.
“At the very least, it shows that Mr. Burns is not exactly a pillar of society. It is strange, though.”
“What is?”
“I thought I caught a whiff of something between him and the executive assistant. Like maybe they’d been having an affair. But, perhaps, it is just a close working relationship.
“Well, if he’s having an affair, there is a good chance he’s had one in the past.”
“You may be right about that. Still, it brings another suspect into the picture.”
“How so?” Abigail asked.
“She was on the train, I remember now. She had on a flapper dress and headband. She wasn’t one of the storytellers, but she still dressed up.”
“I dinnae remember.”
“I was up taking a look at the engine. She was running late, and the station master was telling her to hurry.”
We stared at one another as if we realized the same thing.
“If she was running late, she may have had time to shove the body in the closet,” I said.
Her eyebrows went up.
“She’s thin, but tall,” Abigail continued. “And he would have been in a weakened state. Maybe she was helping her boyfriend out.”
I nodded.
“I definitely need to call Ewan.”