Chapter Three A Brooding Storm
Isla
He chuckled, looking impressed by her question. “Ye are gifted, Isla. Do ye ken my wife gave me during our thirtieth anniversary? She told me the seller had it worked on.” He laughed again, tracing his fingers on the leather back. “Just a year, and wee leathers are peeling off.”
Isla smiled, appreciating her compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Hamish. I do my best.”
He flipped open the leather cover of the book. “What can be done? I dinnae want to lose this book.” He frowned. “Ye can do something about it, aye?”
“Aye, I can. But I wanted to inform you beforehand so you don’t expect a hundred percent recovery.”
“All good then.” Mr Hamish rose to his feet. “No matter the outcome, ye will get yer balance.”
Isla nodded, walking him out of the bookshop. “Extend my greetings to Moira, and stay safe,” he added. “Too many murders these days.”
Murders?
Isla concluded he was referring to the skeleton the developer had found. She made a mental note to pay Mrs Keith a visit. “Poor Mrs Keith, she must be traumatised.”
“I’m not talking about Mrs Keith, lass. Did ye not ken Angus was found dead by that developer?”
Found dead!?
Isla’s eyes almost popped out of her sockets. “What? Angus? No, how?”
“Aye. He was found in his backyard, bled to death. Ye must be careful, Isla. These are dark times,” he said, gently touching her shoulder and walking away.
Angus dead?
Could Finlay… is he now in custody?
But he had been with me!
She shook her head, pushing the chaotic thoughts to the back of her mind. As much as she wanted to be happy that these incidents would put a hold on his project, she didn’t want anyone to die.
Not Angus.
They weren’t friends, but he would greet her and ask after her Gran whenever they ran into each other.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and dialled Dr. Ailsa’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up the call.
“I’m guessing you heard,” Ailsa said.
“Yes, Mr Hamish just told me. I can’t believe it. Wasn’t he at the council meeting?” Isla frowned. She placed a hand on the wall, suddenly needing support as her legs went numb.
There was a pause. “Maybe Fraser is really bad luck.”
“I…” She hesitated but was unable to condemn a man she didn’t know. A man they didn’t know.
But she knew he had been with her the evening before, and she knew he had left in anger. “Oh God.” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“What is it?” Ailsa asked.
A police cruiser pulled into the town square, stopping in front of her.
She knew this would happen. He must have told them. He must have told them she was his alibi.
Did she want to be the alibi of the man whose plan was to destroy her town? Who has done nothing but annoy and infuriate her?
“Isla? Are you there?” Ailsa asked. Isla had forgotten she was on a call.
“I’ll call you back, Ailsa,” she managed to say.
“Alright, we can do lunch today by one.”
“Sure.” Isla hung up.
With a friendly smile, she greeted the policemen as they approached her. She recognised one. They had gone to sixth form together. Elliot MacKillian.
“Good morning, Isla. How are you today?” Elliot greeted her.
She nodded, pulling herself from the wall. “I’m fine, thank you. And you?”
“We are good,” the other officer said with a heavy accent. One she recognised to be from either the North or South Uist.
“We are just doing some follow-up, so dinnae fash.” Elliot and his partner chuckled.
“Mmm.” Isla forced a smile.
“What time did you close yesterday?” Elliot asked. His partner whipped out a jotter and pen from his back pocket. Their eyes fixed on her.
“Umm… the usual five.”
“Okay. Was Finlay Fraser here?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“What did he want?” Elliot questioned.
Not to buy a book. He had needed her help with something and had tried to cajole her. “Consultation… I think?”
Elliot tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Ye think? Can ye elaborate?”
“I think he wanted to know about the history of some building, but um… I didn’t want to help him because I disagreed with his projects.”
Elliot and his partner shared a look.
Have I talked too much? “Is this about Angus?” she asked, but the officers remained silent. “Do you think he had something to do with it?”
“We dinnae ken,” Elliot’s partner answered.
“What time did he arrive and leave?” Elliot continued his probing.
Isla paused, letting her mind replay the events from yesterday. “Five there about, and I think he left maybe five-thirty-ish.”
“I thought ye said ye left here by five?” queried Eliot’s partner.
Isla shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She knew the time stamps were important for their investigation.
“Sorry. He came in by five and left by five-thirty. I locked up after him,” she explained in a sterner voice.
“Well, thank you for your time, Isla,” Elliot said.
Isla breathed in relief when Eryn had walked into the bookshop for her afternoon shift. “Jings, this is new. You look so happy to see me.” Eryn giggled, strolling to the counter.
You have no idea. She paused, realising that Eryn was present when Finlay entered the bookshop. But she had left.
Better to leave her out of it.
“Aye, I am,” Isla said, forcing a smile.
She walked out of the counter, making room for Eryn. “I heard there was a murder, a local planning agent. I heard he was working with that Fraser developer,” Eryn said, setting her bag down.
“You heard too?”
“It’s all over town,” replied Eryn. She picked up the ledger and began flipping the pages. “It’s so sad. I doubt we might have customers today.”
But that was the least of Isla’s worries. She felt uneasy about Angus’ death. And she wondered if she had helped Finlay, if Angus would be alive.
Am I saying Finlay killed Angus? She blew out a gush of air, letting her head fall backward. “Eryn, I am going to have lunch with Ailsa. I should be back in an hour or so.”
Eryn nodded without looking up from the register. “Alright, I’ll feed Shakespeare and call you if I can’t handle anything.”
“Shakes is with Gran, but they might come in later this evening.” She grabbed her bag from behind the counter. “Um, if Gran hasn’t heard about Angus, can you not tell her?”
“I doubt it. The news is spreading like wildfire.” Eryn looked at her with a sad smile. “But okay. If she hasn’t, I won’t mention it.”
“I’ll tell her myself,” Isla said.
“Okay, no problem. Take care.”
Isla walked down to the Thistle & Thyme café. It was a few minutes’ walk from The Binding Room on Second Avenue. She entered the café, scanning the area for Ailsa. She was early. Ailsa was nowhere in sight. But someone else was.
Finlay Fraser.
He was sitting alone at the back with a cup of Irn-Bru on the table.
Leave him be, a voice in her head warned. Isla knew it was the voice of reason, but curiosity got the better of her. Go your own way!
His eyes flickered up and met hers. The glassy nature disappeared for a second and became softer. And then fear. Loneliness.
He was alone. And he was afraid.
But these emotions flashed in his eyes and were replaced with a blank stare. Isla exhaled, deciding she could spare him some minutes since Ailsa hadn’t arrived. Afterall, he had used her as an alibi.
“Hello, Finlay,” she murmured, sliding into the empty chair in front of him. “How are you holding up?”
He glanced at her. “I’m okay. Thank you.”
Silence seeped into their midst.
Their eyes connected. Isla let out a small sigh. “Um… woah, I can’t believe—"
“I guess you’re happy. The project is being delayed,” Finlay bit out bitterly.
Do you really think that? “Happy that someone died? Is that what you think of me?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “And yet you used me as your alibi.”
“Were ye not or will ye deny it because of yer hate for me?” he retorted through gritted teeth.
Isla looked around, ensuring they had privacy. There was something about his accent changing whenever he was in distress. But that was the least of her concerns. “I don’t hate you, Finlay. I just don’t want you to come here and change things.”
“Change? Is that it? Ye afraid of change?”
A few heads turn their way, causing Isla to shift uncomfortably. She gestured for him to calm down. “Look, I am not afraid of change. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Aye, right.” Finlay rolled his eyes.
“The police came to the bookshop,” she announced, changing the subject.
Finlay’s eyes darted to her curiosity, etched in his blue orbs. “And?”
“And I told them what I know happened. You came, and you left.”
“Exactly!” he exclaimed, resting his hands on the table. He shook his head, murmuring something incoherent.
Isla gauged his facial expression. He was worried. But he didn’t look like a killer.
A greedy developer, perhaps.
But not a killer.
“Tell me what happened. If I am going to be your alibi, I should know,” Isla urged. She wanted to know what had happened when she kicked him out of her bookshop.
When he had stormed out in anger.
“Promise not to judge me?”
“You didn’t kill him by mistake, did you?”
Finlay groaned in frustration. “No, I didn’t kill him. He was already dead when I got there.”
Isla’s eyes scanned the café again to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Nothing but a few occasional glances at Finlay. He was the sore-star of the show. The one who had found the body. The traumatised victim and the prime suspect.
“Go on,” she encouraged.
“Earlier, Angus, Callum, and I met here,” he started, explaining what had transpired in their meeting and how Callum had advised he came to her for help. “He texted me, and we were going to meet up in my place, but…” He trailed off, eyes going distant.
“But what?” Isla pressed. “What happened after you replied to him?”
“He called back, but it was silent. I kept talking, but there was no response, and the call went dead.” He paused, swallowing down hard.
A horrified expression was etched on his face.
“I called him. I heard his phone ringing, so I followed it. And there he was, lying in a pool of his blood.” He dropped his head and shook it a few times, freezing when he felt a warm, soft hand touch his.
He raised his face to see Isla gazing at him. “He was dead, Isla. Someone had just killed him, and I bet they saw me come home.”
“Oh my God, Finlay. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Can I see this deed?”
Finlay pulled out his phone, fiddling with it before sliding it towards her. Isla brought the phone to her eye level. It was a deed for the transfer of property to the town. Signed by Bucha, but it wasn’t notarized, and it appeared the signature was missing an ‘N.’
“Where did you get this?”.
He looked away from her, dragging his fingers through his hair. Isla arched her eyebrows at him, demanding a response. “It was inside the box we dug from Mrs. Keith’s house.”
“And you took it?” asked Isla disapprovingly. “Are you aware you tampered with evidence?”
“Shhh…” He pressed a finger to his lips, looking around frantically. “I dinnae think it through, okay?” he said remorsefully. “I took it because I’m interested in the property, and I thought it would make things easier. Never knew it would get someone killed.”
Get someone killed. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean get someone killed?”
He leaned toward her. “I think someone killed Angus because he was going to give me some information about St Albert church.”
Was that enough reason? “Everyone knows it’s the town’s property. It was previously a church converted to a boarding school, and the project was paused due to lack of funds.”
“I don’t know, Isla. But Angus wanted nothing to do with me when I told him I was interested in the St Albert church. He said it was complicated. And look at the signature. It is meant to be Buchan, right?”
“Angus also said the skeleton belonged to Buchan. Tell me it is just a coincidence.”
Isla didn’t know what to think, but she knew there was an eighty percent chance that it was Buchan signed on the deed. She bit her lips, silently praying she would not be regretting her next words in the future. “You know what? Why not come by the bookshop tomorrow, and I can look at this deed.”
“You will help me?” Finlay asked with wide eyes.
Isla shrugged. “Don’t get ahead of yourself now. I’m just looking, nothing more.”
There was more to it than Isla wanted to admit. But most importantly, she wanted to find out the truth.