Death at a Scottish Halloween (Scottish Isle Mysteries #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I’d seen a great deal of blood in my day. As a doctor it came with the territory, but the scene in front of me wasn’t just gruesome, it was macabre. Still, I believed it needed one final touch. I plunged the butcher knife into the body with more zeal than was necessary.

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” Abigail said. As my incredible associate, she helped with my medical practice here in Sea Isle, and we’d become great friends. She was brilliant, funny, and every bit as invested in our plan for our room in the haunted house, as I was.

“Mara gave us a challenge, and I don’t want to disappoint,” I said.

Mara was another friend who ran the pub down the road from my practice.

She was in charge of the All Hallow’s Eve fête, which meant Abigail and I had to be on her committee for the haunted house.

Each team had a room, and we’d decided to create the scariest doctor’s office we could imagine.

I was to play the mad doctor, and she was, once again, my able assistant, Nurse Fright.

“I think your lab coat needs more blood,” she said. Then she took her paint brush and slathered on the washable paint that appeared amazingly like blood. “And we should finish our makeup soon. It’s not long until they open the doors.”

I still couldn’t believe I was about to do something so silly, but I had been promised it was enormous fun.

We’d missed the fête last October because another friend, Angie, had been getting married outside of town.

I had no idea how seriously the town took the Halloween holiday.

Though they called it All Hallow’s Eve or by the old Celtic name, Samhain.

Turned out our town had been the site of a powerful coven back in the day, and the lore surrounding the witches was fun to say the least. I’d heard several tales about the witches when I’d gone to Edinburgh on the Storyteller’s Train the week before.

I loved living in a place that had so much history and lore.

“Whatever you think best.” Our side of the room was decorated with various pieces of medical equipment.

A few body parts, and strategically positioned lights and blood had been placed to scare those who paid for the privilege to go through each of the rooms. Abigail had been in charge of scene décor, and like most things she did, it was excellent.

Scary but in a good sort of way. My only job had been to purchase the items we needed.

Most had been found online. Except I forgot the butcher knife. I borrowed that one from home.

“I think that’s it for the room.”

“It’s wonderful. Bloody, but it looks like something in a scary movie. You’re brilliant.”

Abigail blushed. She wasn’t great with compliments. We were working on that. “Thank you.”

“I meant to ask earlier, where is Tommy while we are here?” The haunted house had been set up in an abandoned house in the middle of town.

There were twelve rooms in all, and each one was to be scarier than the last. Once we were finished with the fête events, the house would go to the historical society for refurbishment.

“Tommy is busy at Ewan’s tonight,” she said. “I think they’re making treats of some sort.”

Ewan’s house manager treated Tommy like her grandson. It was sweet how much she loved the young man.

There was loud laughter. The gang across from us were artists who had so much creativity. Their room was a study in art gone wrong from bloody paintings to scary animatronic monsters. They also had so much of the requisite ooze. I couldn’t wait to see their finished product.

“I love all the moving figures across the hall,” I said. “I guess I’m the animatronic monster in our scene,” I said.

She laughed. “We’re going to make it look like we are fake bodies sitting around. So, when we move it will give a good scare. Do you remember your line?”

I laughed. “I think I can handle ‘Please, come in for your checkup.’ ”

My phone beeped and I checked the text. “Jasper says the snacks are ready downstairs,” I said.

“Good. I’m so hungry. I hope he brought those little chicken sandwiches.”

“Me, too.” Our favorite patisserie owner and friend, Jasper, made some of the best treats I’d ever eaten. He was that good.

As we walked past the room across the way, I waved at the team working there.

“Love the ear.” One of the men was dressed as Van Gogh with a bandaged ear.

Another man had a handmade mask of Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

A woman was dressed in a bloody tutu to represent Degas gone wrong.

They each had life-sized frames they stood behind.

They were surrounded by all kinds of ghosts and goblins wearing art smocks and berets.

And the aforementioned ooze seemed to come from the walls. “You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“Thanks,” Van Gogh said.

“Food has arrived,” Abigail said behind me. “Set up in the green room, which is actually the red room downstairs.”

We all laughed.

“Appreciate you letting us know,” the woman said.

“I’m starving,” Van Gogh complained, and then laughed. “This has been fun, though. I can’t wait to scare the kiddies. I think you two will win the scariest room. Puts me off wanting to go to the doc.”

“Do you think?” Abigail asked. “Your artistic monsters are ingenious.”

“We worked on them over the summer,” Van Gogh said. “I’m Duncan, by the way. That’s my sister, Isobel, and my friend, Baird. He’s a rigger like me. But he also does wonders with clay. And Isobel does watercolors.”

“Well, you’ve all done wonders with your room.”

“You’re a Yank,” he said.

“You must be new to town,” Abigail said. “Dr. Em has been here for more than a year. She came from Seattle.”

“Ah. That explains it. I’ve been out on the rigs for a time. Haven’t been back here in a while. It’s nice to meet you, Doc. If ever I need a medical, I’ll know where to go. As long as your office doesn’t look like that one.” He pointed behind him.

“I can assure you it doesn’t. I didn’t know the workers stayed out on the oil rigs for so long.”

He shrugged. “We’ve been shorthanded of late. I’m single, so I don’t mind the work. But after eight months, I had to take a mandatory leave for a few weeks.”

“And you have one of the art booths at the fairgrounds? I heard Mara talking about you and your team.”

“I do. I’m a carver. I hope you’ll stop by.”

“Oh, she will. The Doc loves all kinds of art and handmade things.” Abigail was far more talkative than usual; the groups we’d been decorating the house with were all quite kind. I don’t know what it said about us all working so well together to frighten people, but we did.

We headed to the green room. Mara was there with Jasper.

They were passing out boxed meals for everyone working in the haunted house.

People appeared to be in jovial moods. Our community pulling together to provide a bit of fun, and raise funds for a great charity, literacy and restoration of this old house.

After we ate, it was time to finish our gruesome makeup and take our places in the rooms. A haunting lullaby played throughout the house.

“The music alone is scary,” I said.

“It is creepy. Not as frightening as your makeup, though.” Abigail grinned.

“Once again, you did a great job. Though the blood coming off my lips doesn’t taste great.”

“Agreed.” She had the same coming from her eyes and mouth. “The price of beauty,” she said in her Scottish brogue.

The lights dimmed. We had soft lights on the bodies and some of the equipment covered in cobwebs. If this was my lab back at the practice, it would be polished to perfection. Abigail usually liked a tidy space.

It wasn’t long before some young teen boys came through.

“Nothing scary in this one,” a boy said. “Just a bunch of old junk.”

His friends nodded.

“Come in for your checkup,” I said. When I spoke, they yelped.

“We’re very hungry—for business,” Abigail said as she moved toward them.

The boys screamed. “I thought they were dummies,” one of them said. Abigail and I cackled.

For the next three hours we scared the wits out of people. I’d never laughed so hard in my life. Yes, it was mean, but also hilarious. My stomach actually hurt from giggling so hard.

When the lights came up, I was disappointed. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” I said to Abigail.

She grinned. “It was. I had no idea I’d enjoy scaring people.”

“You were very much into your role. You owned it.”

It was hard to see through her white face makeup, but she was probably blushing again.

“I wonder how the others did?”

“From all the screams around the house, I would guess pretty well.”

“True. Do you mind if we make a few tweaks? I think if we move some of these bodies around, it will be even scarier.”

For the next half hour we moved things around until she was happy. Ever the perfectionist, she liked everything in its place—even in a haunted house.

My phone buzzed. “Hey Mara, what’s up?” I put her on speaker.

“Could you and Abigail do me a favor?”

“Of course, what do you need,” I said.

“Just double check the rooms as you come downstairs. I need to make certain everyone is out of the house before we lock up.”

“On it,” Abigail said.

We headed across to the Artists room. Van Gogh sat with his back to us facing the frame he usually stood inside. “Hey, Duncan, right? They’re asking that we clear out,” I said.

He didn’t move.

“Duncan?” I walked toward him.

“Do you think he fell asleep? I wish I could sleep like that,” Abigail said.

I walked around the chair he sat in and gasped.

“If this is some kind of joke, it isn’t funny,” I said.

There was a knife in his chest. And his eyes had a strange haze to them.

“Abigail, call Constable Ewan. I’m afraid Duncan isn’t asleep.”