Chapter 3 #2
Her eyes went wide. “No. Not usually.”
I looked to Baird, as the victim’s friend he might know better. “She’s right. He had the occasional pint, but he was far from a drinker.”
‘Were you drinking last night?”
“Oh. Yes. We did a couple of shots before we left the caravan park,” Baird said. “He doesn’t usually drink, but for some reason he suggested we loosen up a bit.”
“That’s right,” Isobel added. “I forgot. But I mean it was two shots of whiskey.”
“And he had a flask with him,” Baird said. “It was a part of his costume. I assumed it was water. But he got nervous around crowds. Maybe … I don’t know.”
“Was he drinking while we were there?” She turned to Baird surprised.
“Maybe. You know how he was. We joked he’d make the perfect hermit. I mean, he could have been drinking more, and we didn’t notice. We were giving it our all. Why do you ask about the whiskey?” Baird pulled my attention back.
“We found his alcohol count past legal levels,” I said. “But his liver looked in good shape.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “Our dad was a heavy drinker, and we both were careful about that sort of thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink more than a pint, maybe two, over several hours.
He was acting sort of goofy, but I thought that was for the crowds.
I know we keep saying this, but he really was fine when we left. ”
“I believe you,” I said. “But the alcohol in his system may have slowed his response to the attack. And we haven’t found a flask.”
“Did you pick it up?” Isobel asked Baird.
“No.”
“The police will find it,” I said.
“Do you know when we will be able to …” she didn’t seem able to finish the sentence.
“We’re heading to the funeral home now to make arrangements,” Baird said.
“Most likely in the next few days,” I said. “Once all our testing is done, I’ll have a better idea.”
“He wouldn’t want much,” Isobel said. “We don’t have many family members left. He loved art and music, but he didn’t like any sort of formality. Said he had enough rules at work. He liked to live life easy when he was off the rig.” She gave me a watery smile. “I have no idea what that means.”
I was about to say something, but the door buzzed.
“Excuse me.”
I opened the door to a woman, holding the hand of a young girl.
“Is he here? I just heard.” She sobbed a bit.
“Can I help you?”
“Duncan, is he here?” The woman was petite, and the little girl wide-eyed and frightened looking.
“I’m sorry. You are?” I motioned for them to come inside.
“Duncan’s wife, Flora,” she sniffed.
Isobel gasped.
“And this is his daughter, Elsie. I don’t understand why I wasn’t informed.
I had to find out in the pub of all places.
I’d been checking there to see if anyone had seen him.
I haven’t heard from him.” She cried harder.
“Why didn’t someone call me? I want to see him. I don’t believe it.” She sobbed again.
The little girl pulled on her mother’s hand. “Please don’t cry, ma. It will be OK.”
That didn’t seem to help. She squeezed the little girl to her side.
“Why don’t you come inside,” I said. I guided them into the lobby.
From the surprise on Baird’s and Isobel’s faces, I had a feeling they knew nothing about the woman.
“Who are you?” Isobel said.
“Why is that your business?” Flora didn’t say it rudely; she was genuinely confused. “I’m here to see my husband and the father of my daughter. I was told his body was here. Can someone tell me what happened? And why no one called me? This is all so wrong.”
“Are you talking about Duncan Craig?” Baird asked. He seemed as perplexed as the rest of us.
“Yes. Were you a friend?” She asked.
“His best friend, and this is his sister, Isobel.”
Flora shook her head. “I don’t understand. My husband doesn’t have any family.”
“How could he do this? I have a niece, and he didn’t tell me.” Isobel started crying in earnest, and Baird gathered her up in his arms.
Baird’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve spent the last week with him, and he never mentioned anything about you. We’ve been friends and we’ve worked together for fifteen years. I would know if he had a daughter and a wife. What are you playing at?”
“How dare you,” Flora said. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “You can’t speak to me that way. You’re the ones who are fakes. I’m telling you. He has no family. Except for me and Elsie.”
“You’re wrong,” Isobel said softly. “Duncan never once mentioned either of you. Are you trying to play some game? He has nothing to inherit, if that is what you are after.”
“I can’t believe you people.” Flora turned to me.
“Are you going to let them speak to me this way. I want to see my husband. You should call the Constable. These people are running some sort of scam.” Her voice became a high screech.
“By law you have to show him to me. I know my rights.” She was genuinely upset.
“I … uh. We’ll need to speak to the Constable, first,” I said.
“The constable is on the way,” Abigail said. “I called him.”
“Thanks,” I said. “He’ll help us sort this out.”
“I can’t believe you people,” Flora sobbed. “I don’t have to take this.” She started to pull the little girl toward the door. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Ewan said as the door opened. “Why don’t we do that down at the station.”
“Constable, something terrible is going on here,” the woman said. “My husband is dead, and no one contacted me. And those people are saying he’s related to them. My husband has no family—only Elsie and me. I can’t get anyone to listen to me. Please. I need to see him.”
Ewan nodded tightly. Was he going to give into her? He knelt down. “Hello,” he said to the little girl. “I bet, if it’s OK with your mom, my friend Abigail can find you a cup of hot chocolate. Would you like that?”
She nodded. She was pale, and I worried she might be in shock. Her mother’s hysterics weren’t helping. The woman obviously thought it was her husband in room four. And if he was her husband, she had every right to grieve.
But this was all so strange.
“I don’t understand,” Isobel whispered. “He’d tell us, right? I mean, if I were an auntie, he wouldn’t keep that a secret. Would he?”
I had no idea, but we would have answers soon.