Page 10 of A Very Bookish Murder
But Brigitte wasn’t in the dining room, so Ally ventured upstairs and, as she walked past Jodi’s room, noticed that thedoor was ajar. She was sure she’d left it closed, and she’d meant to lock it because she knew the police might want to look in there but had been distracted by the other guests returning as she’d been looking for the key.
Ally opened the door and there, standing in front of the chest of drawers reading what looked like a diary, was none other than Brigitte.
Brigitte laid the diary down hastily. ‘I just wanted to have a look at the room,’ she said, ‘because I wondered if I could move in here when my husband arrives tomorrow? He worries about me, you see?’ She gave a little pout. ‘Now that Jodi is no longer here, is it possible we could move in here, with the double bed?’ She looked sadly at Ally. ‘Also, I do not like to tell her, but that Penelope snoreslike ahippopotamus! Soloud. I cannotsleep.’
Ally had never heard a hippopotamus snore, but since Penelope was so loud anyway, she didn’t doubt it for a moment. ‘I have every sympathy, Brigitte, but the new detective is on his way now to talk to us all, and for sure he’s going to want to check Jodi’s room. And she has a husband who will doubtless want to deal with her personal things. So perhaps we can talk about it again tomorrow?’
Brigitte pulled a face but nodded. ‘Yes, of course. And I must tell you that there were some strange noises coming from our bathroom also on Sunday night, which I think is perhaps the pipes, but it was difficult to know because of the snoring.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Ally.
Oh, Willie! she thought.
Wailing Willie was the ghost she’d acquired along with the malthouse. A couple of hundred years ago, Willie, along with his bagpipes, had broken into the still-functioning malthouse to taste some of the finished product, also stored there, and had happily drunk himself to death while playing his pipes. The drunker Willie got, the more wailing emanated from the pipes,and now, rumour had it, Willie still wailed away shortly before a local death was imminent.
Ally, originally sceptical, was now more inclined to admit that there just might besometruth in this after some of the events which had occurred over the past year. If Willie was still around, he inhabited the en-suite bathroom to Room 2.
But as she made her way downstairs, Ally wasn’t thinking about Willie; she kept visualising Brigitte standing in Room 1 reading Jodi’s diary. It was high time the bedroom door was locked, so she went straight downstairs, got the key, and did just that.
Morag McConnachie arrived at nine o’clock to do the cleaning. As she tied her apron round her middle, she said, ‘For God’s sake, Ally, what’s goin’ on in Locharran?’
‘One of my guests was murdered at the Craigmonie yesterday afternoon –that’swhat’s going on,’ Ally replied somewhat tersely.
Morag stared at her. ‘There was policeall over the place this mornin’,’ she said, ‘and the Craigmonie’s not takin’ any new guests for the moment.’
‘The police will have to examine everything thoroughly before it can be opened up again, I expect.’
‘But, Ally, whowasshe? And how did she get hersel’ murdered?’
‘I don’t think she planned it exactly, Morag! She was an author, giving a lecture, and later found strangled in the ladies’ toilet – byme!’
‘It was yersel’ that found her?’ Morag stared at her in horror. ‘Oh my God! Ye couldnae make it up.’
Never was a truer word spoken, Ally thought.
After the four women had left in Joyce’s Land Rover, and Morag was vacuuming upstairs, the inevitable happened. It was her son on the phone.
‘Mum!’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve just seen the news. You’ve gotanothermurder!’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Ally admitted.
‘You once said that you wanted to get away from the crime of the big city,’ Jamie said to her sternly, ‘and look where it’s got you. This is ridiculous! You must really think about selling up that place and coming back to civilisation.’
Ally rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, Jamie, I’m fine. Really. And I love it here.’
‘If it wasn’t for the fact I know you’ve got Ross living nearby,’ he said, ‘I’d be right up there to bring you back. I worry about you.’
‘You’ve no need to,’ Ally assured him as she ended the call. ‘I’m well looked after.’ She was perfectly aware that Jamie, no matter how concerned he might be, would find it difficult to abandon his building company even for a day or two. Likewise his wife, Liz, with her boutique.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, which made Ally worry in case it might be a guest seeking accommodation and she wouldn’t be able to accommodate them.
On the doorstep was a tall, very good-looking South Asian man. He looked as if he might be in his mid-forties. He was smiling, and he had lovely teeth. Ally was very fussy about teeth, and his were beautiful.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked. ‘I’m afraid all my rooms are taken at the moment…’
He held up his ID card. ‘Detective Inspector Amir Kandahar,’ he said in a broad Glaswegian accent.
‘Oh!’ Ally was momentarily at a loss for words. With everything else going on, she’d forgotten that Rigby’s replacement was on his way. ‘Oh, do come in,’ she added hastily and led the way into the guests’ sitting room, cursing the fact she hadn’t removed last night’s mugs from the coffee table. ‘I hope you don’t mind these,’ she said, waving her hand at the mugs. ‘I haven’t had time to tidy up. My guests had hot chocolates when they got back last night.’
