Part 25 (1/2)

Trish gasped suddenly. ”I know who you are! The group doing tours at the castle!”

”Indeed!” Lizzie said.

Thayer nudged Toni. ”We're famous!” he teased.

”Or infamous,” she murmured beneath her breath.

”Oh, no! There was a bit in the Edinburgh paper today.. .y'can buy it down at the loin's place, that little newsstand cafe down at the base of the hill, if you wish to see it,” Trish said. ”It's a good blurb, I believe you'd like it. Says you do a lovely little piece of drama while bringing back the past, and suggests that even locals would enjoy the fun of it. You'll have to get the paper. I'm afraid we've left ours at the cafe.”

Toni looked at Thayer and shrugged, a smile creasing her lips. There was pleasure and wry regret in her expression. ”Thank you for telling us,” Toni said.

”Didn't know we had a reporter in either of the two groups we've taken through so far,” Thayer said.

”Well, now,” Lizzie said, ”a reporter would want to slip in unknown and unnoticed, right? Get the same treatment as everyone else, eh?”

”Now, that sounds true enough,” Thayer agreed. ”I'd thought our folks were all Americans, though. We've been working with a tour company that does the promotion and packaging. They just book the tours, but they've been targeting Americans.”

”What? Just because we've grown up with the history, it means we don't enjoy a good time?” Trish said, batting her lashes at Thayer.

”Well, now, we all enjoy a good time, don't we?” Thayer said, his voice soft and a little husky. Toni was glad for him. He seemed to be enjoying this flirtation with the attractive women, even if they happened to be in a cemetery.

Toni had noticed an older woman, slightly humped over with the beginnings of osteoporosis, making her way through the crooked stones and monuments. The others noticed her, as well, and fell silent.

Toni stepped back, realizing that although they stood among weathered markers that might have been about for hundreds of years, there were new plaques around, as well.

The woman was heading their way with a bundle of flowers.

”I believe we're intruding,” she murmured. Thayer took her elbow, and they edged farther out of the way. They remained silent with respect, rather than make an obvious departure that might be loud and distracting.

The old woman was followed by a younger couple, a slightly balding man and an attractive, slender woman of about forty-five.

”Afternoon,” the man said, nodding to them. The old woman ignored them, but the man's wife offered them a pleasant smile.

The old woman bent down with her flowers, and said her prayer by the grave. Then she rose slowly, using a headstone to help herself up, and turned, acknowledging that they were there.

Toni noticed that the woman's eyes, a faded blue set in the timeworn creases of her face, seemed to fasten right upon her.

”Yer from the castle,” she said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.

Toni and Thayer nodded. Despite the interruption, they were still basking in the pleasure of having heard about such a good review of the tour. But as those faded blue eyes a.s.sessed her, Toni felt a sure stirring of unease.

The woman pointed a long bony finger at Toni.

”Y'know it, don't ye?”

”Pardon?” Toni murmured.

”There's greater trouble ahead, eh? They've found the lady, missing all those years. Disturbed the past! Dug up a ghost. And they wonder wot's goin' on in that forest! He killed once, and set her in the ground. Now she's dug up. He'll kill again, and again, and again. We've known that he roamed here all these years. Aye, that we have! Roamed his castle and the woods, betrayed and seeking his vengeance. Now he's risen, and he seeks it about the countryside. You!” Her finger shook in Toni's direction. ”You know it! Know that he is up and about, wakened and furious! You know it! Bruce MacNiall is up and about, and killin'. And if ye tread upon the past any longer, y'll be the la.s.s in the water. Aye, y'll be the la.s.s in the water!”

*12*

Bruce arrived at Darrow's office not long after noon, surprised by the urgency and excitement in the message the man had left on his cell phone.

It was quite a mystery, since Daniel hadn't left any details about why he was concerned that Bruce come in. And though Bruce should have accompanied the group into town, gone straight to the office of records as planned and shown them the deed, there really seemed little urgency to do so anymore. They had accepted the fact that he indeed owned the castle.

And Darrow's message had been just too intriguing.

Tillingham was one of those places where, most often, death came naturally, and to the aged. The surrounding countryside, at the base of the Highlands, was rich farmland. Those who hadn't made their way into larger cities or towns earned their living by producing some of the finest wool, dairy products and beef available. For the most part, they loved their corner of the earth, the land and a way of life that was almost ancient, yet far better than what it had been in centuries of servitude and strife.

Bruce owned large tracts of land and a number of the buildings in town where merchants sold their wares, but his holdings hadn't all been inherited. An education in the States at UCLA had taught him a great deal about the American stock market, and he had gambled--for that's what he considered it--well over the years. Even in hard times, he'd had luck with getting in and getting out. Still, his father had ingrained in him a certain tradition. Heredity--and the return of Charles II to the throne of England--had made them lairds. That meant a responsibility to the village of Tillingham.

There was another factor, of course. The area was home. He loved it. There were still thatched roof houses that served as cafes and shops, apartments and single dwelling residences. The farmland wasn't far from the center and the castle sat atop a hill as it had for centuries. Whatever the history a.s.sociated with the place, good and bad, it was his.

Darrow's facility was on the square, near the constable's office and the beautiful old medieval building that housed the records and licensing bureaus, among other legal offices. When he had decided to hurry on down to see Daniel Darrow, he had refrained from mentioning that he'd be near the group, intrigued to see the medical examiner on his own.

Rowenna, Darrow's secretary, greeted him pleasantly, and with a little sparkle to her eyes. ”He's agog with excitement!” Rowenna told Bruce, rising to lead him into the mortuary room, where Darrow tended to the dead of Tillingham and the surrounding areas. ”He hasn't even told me what's got him so excited,” she said.

He thanked Rowenna when she opened the door to admit him to Darrow's work area, and she gave him another wave and smile as she closed the door behind her.

The M.E. employed two a.s.sistants at all times, but most often they were temporary, eager to work their way to larger facilities or higher positions in other small villages. Neither of them seemed to be about that afternoon. Bruce realized that this must be something of a pleasant change for the man. Darrow had a very different case of a discovered ”body” on his hands.

Darrow was wearing a headlight and huge gla.s.ses, studying the remains that were stretched out in proper form on the autopsy table before him. He looked up, seeing that Bruce had arrived, and his eyes seemed enormous behind the gla.s.ses. In his lab coat and paraphernalia, he gave the appearance of a mad scientist.

”Bruce!” he said with pleasure. ”You're here?”

”How could I resist such an invitation?” Bruce said.

Darrow nodded and said, ”Well, my good lad, if you've ever loved me before, yer about to adore me now.”

”Oh?”

He beckoned Bruce closer.

It was a strange feeling to look down at the remains. On the one side, all that time had rendered had taken away something of the humanity that once belonged to the woman. The empty eye sockets were eerie, as were the remaining tufts of hair and mummified flesh. Some bones were not actually attached, yet they had been laid out in anatomical order. Blackened pieces of fabric gave an odd cast to what she must have worn during her last moments of life. The skull itself was devoid of flesh in places, while in others, that fragile bit of her onetime life remained.

Time could play good tricks with the mind, as well. He couldn't feel what he had experienced when he found the body of the murdered girl in Tillingham, because her life had been far more recent, far more real. And yet it occurred to him that this was one of his ancestors, and that if it hadn't been for her life, he would not have had his own.

”She's truly an exquisite find!” Darrow said, studying the upper region of the remains again.

Bruce cleared his throat slightly. Darrow looked at him and then seemed to realize the a.s.sociation. ”Sorry, dear boy. I keep forgetting.. .well, centuries have gone by, you know.”

”Aye, of course,” Bruce said.

”It's the state of preservation,” Darrow said. ”Well, we've some naked bone, but I haven't actually cut into her, taken samples. We do have experts on the way.”

”Daniel, what is it then?” Bruce said, afraid that the doctor was getting so involved in his discovery again that he was going to forget to explain.

”There!” Darrow said. He focused the lights of his headgear on the ligature that remained around the neck.

There? Bruce stared, but he saw only the muddied and blackened ligature, nothing else.