Legacy of the Highlands (7 page)

“
Un momento por favor
,
Señora
Cameron,” Luisa called as Alex headed for the stairs.

“Your friend,
Señora
Francie, phoned
today. She said you are to call her as soon as you returned. The
Señora
said she was very worried about you, but I assured
her that you are well. You looked so peaceful resting on the beach
that I didn’t want to disturb you,” Luisa explained. “But first you
must eat. The cook told me that you ate little today.”

Oh, come on, Alex thought irritably. The
drugged dream about making love with her dead husband had left her
in a horrible mood and she wanted Luisa to leave her the hell
alone. But the woman was simply being a good hostess, so she made
herself bury her own emotions and tried to be a polite,
appreciative guest.

“Okay, fine, I’ll eat,” she answered
petulantly. “Has Diego had dinner yet?”

“Did he not tell you?
Ay, Díos mío
,
that boy,” she said shaking her head. “He left this morning and
we’re never sure when he’ll return.”

“That sounds like Diego. I guess I was still
asleep when he left so he couldn’t say good-bye. Don’t worry about
it. Can I have dinner in the courtyard?”

“
Seguro,
Señora
.” said Luisa.
“Of course you may eat wherever you wish. Would fish and a salad
please you? Some wine?”

“That sounds fine, thank you,” she answered
distractedly as she crossed the large kitchen, its intricate tile
work and rustic stone floor another reflection of the Navarros’
heritage.

Alex felt safe in the verdant oasis of the villa’s
courtyard as if its walls could protect her from the outside world.
Will’s murder was so irrational that she had trouble believing that
she wouldn’t be the killer’s next prey. Maybe that was the real
reason she’d left Boston, but she wasn’t ready to examine her
motives yet, so she tucked that thought away in the corner of her
mind where she stored her other fears.

She decided to sit at one of the small tables
scattered around the courtyard. They reminded her of those outside
Paris cafés, just large enough for a coffee or an aperitif.
“
Señor
Diego often chooses to dine at this table also when
no one else is in residence,” Luisa commented as she served Alex’s
dinner.

“I’m not surprised. Diego likes beautiful
things and this is a gorgeous spot. And Luisa…I was rude to you
before. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to forgive, but I thank you
for apologizing. There are many who think nothing of treating an
employee rudely. I already know you’re not like that,” the older
woman said. “Enjoy your dinner,
Señora
.”

The sautéed snapper was simply prepared and
delicious, and the accompanying wine had that hint of sweetness
that she preferred. She’d never understood the appeal of dry wines.
Will’s parents had been appalled when she expressed her dislike for
brut Champagne in favor of the less expensive, but sweeter, extra
dry. Her mother-in-law haughtily informed her that Dom Pérignon,
the only Champagne the senior Camerons ever served, doesn’t even
produce an extra dry.

“She’s used to Asti Spumante or beer,” she’d
once overheard Anne Cameron hiss to one of her stick-thin friends
as they’d twittered hysterically at Alex’s expense. She’d been very
aware that Will’s mother was ashamed of Alex’s middle class
pedigree, but not enough to hide it — as if she could — from her
equally stuck-up girlfriends.

As Alex fractured the crisp caramel atop the
créme brûlée
dessert, she wracked her brain about the one
clue the police had found — the
sgian dubh
. Will’s murder
must be connected to their vacation in Scotland. It had to be. Why
else was the Scottish dagger left beside his body? It was supposed
to mean something, send some kind of message — unless it was a
diversion intended to lead investigators on a fool’s errand. But
damned if she knew what it was. There had to be a link, there had
to be, but any connection eluded her. Even more disturbing, the
police had come up empty after interviewing the owner of the bed
and breakfast where they’d stayed and that gift shop owner,
Mackinnon. Without witnesses or evidence, the trail was already
cold.

The medical examiner concluded that Will had
quickly lost consciousness after his jugular was pierced with
expert precision. The choice of weapon — a knife instead of a gun —
implied that the attack was personal and that the assailant had
enough confidence to get close enough to complete the job swiftly
and silently.

Forensics surmised that the Scottish dagger —
whose blade was too narrow and free from any trace of blood residue
— wasn’t used to inflict the deep, fatal wound. If the murderer had
slashed Will’s throat, it would have been more difficult to
determine the weapon’s precise size. Detective O’Shea had explained
that many knives, unless they’re very thick, make the same size cut
when used in a slashing motion. But Will’s neck hadn’t been
slashed. He’d been stabbed, the blade entering the side of his neck
point first, which left a clear impression of the knife’s
dimensions. Because of the upward angle of the wound, police were
also sure that Will was attacked from behind and that the killer
was a couple of inches shorter than he or had crouched. Will was
strong and very fit, but he’d had no chance to react or defend
himself and probably never even saw his attacker. If he’d fought
there would have been scrapes, bruises or some trace of skin, hair
or fiber beneath his nails, but there were none. Everything came up
blank. No bloody footprints, no fingerprints, no DNA except Will’s,
no witnesses, no murder weapon, no anything.

Frustrated, she concentrated on something she
could control. Something basic. She had to shop for clothes, shoes,
makeup, and everything else she would have brought with her if
she’d known she was going to end up in Miami after the funeral.
People like Diego kept clothing in each of their homes so he hadn’t
considered that she’d arrive in Florida with only the clothes she
was wearing. So…she’d go shopping tomorrow. That small decision
took care of how to fill one day, which was how she now lived her
life. She scraped up the last of the rich dessert then climbed the
stairs to her room to return Francie’s call.

“
Ciao, Francesca.” Alex smiled as she pictured
her best friend pacing like a caged tigress, a bundle of nervous
energy until she could relax and lose herself in
conversation.

“Alexandra MacBain Cameron! What kind of
friend has someone else — and Diego Navarro yet! — leave a
voicemail that she’s on her way to Florida and then doesn’t call
for twenty-four hours? Are you crazy? No, don’t answer that. I
guess you’re allowed to be a little bit nuts. What’s going on? Talk
to me. Are you all right?”

“Well, if you’ll be quiet for a minute...”
Alex replied. She didn’t like being put on the defensive, but if
the situation were reversed she knew she’d be grilling Francie
too.

“Okay, okay. When I’m worried, I can get a
little hysterical. I’m sorry, but you were so upset and…”

“I’m fine. Or I’m as fine as I can be,” Alex
interrupted.

“I was kind of shocked that you’d left with
Diego.”

“Yeah, me too, but he knew exactly what I
needed and made it happen. And you know what? A part of me was sure
that he would. Diego’s always been a take charge kind of guy.”

“So how’s it going?” Francie probed.

“Fine, actually. He was gone when I woke up
today, off on some business trip I think. When he gets back he and
I will have to talk. It was Will who was furious with him after
all, and so I went along with it. I never heard his side of what
happened between them, so who knows, maybe we can work things out
and put it all behind us. I don’t have the energy for feuds.”

“So when are you coming home?” Francie asked
in her no bullshit fashion. Subtlety was not her style.

“Who knows? It’s going to be a long time
before I’m ready to face reality and besides, I feel safe
here.”

After a brief pause Francie changed the
subject. “You’ll never guess who called this morning.”

“I give up. Who?” Alex was tired and wasn’t
in any mood for games.

“Will’s father! Can you believe it?”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish. John Cameron actually said he was
worried about you because you’d left their house with a migraine
and then didn’t answer your phone. He asked where you were and of
course I played dumb, but I’m pretty sure he knew I was lying”

Alex began to pace restlessly. She opened the
French doors to the balcony and inhaled the salty air. It helped.
She’d never been comfortable with her in-laws and without Will as a
buffer she didn’t expect to have much to do with them anymore. “Did
John say anything else?”

“No, but he sounded kind of weird…almost
jumpy…not Mr. Suave at all.”

“He probably wanted to tell me I’ve been
excommunicated from the high and mighty Cameron family and I have
to move out of the condo. You remember they bought it for us as a
wedding gift, right?”

“Cut it out, Alex. What would people say if
they did something so despicable to their recently widowed
daughter-in-law?

“I shouldn’t have let Will go out that
night.”

“Stop that! So you had fabulous sex and you
BOTH wanted ice cream. So Will, being a great guy, offered to get
it. I know you’re going to whine, ‘I told him to go through the
alley,’ but shit, Alex, we know that man only listened to you if he
damn well wanted to. It was his decision, not yours.”

“Are you done?”

“No, I’m not. You could not have kept it from
happening. You’re not God, Alex. You don’t control the universe. It
just is,” Francie said, her voice softening.

“I know…I know.” She wiped her runny nose and
the tears that began to drip from her chin during Francie’s tirade.
“It’s easier if I have someone to be mad at, to blame, you know?
And since it looks like this guy is never going to be caught…I
guess I’m it.”

“Come home, sweetie. Maybe if you get back to
a normal routine it’ll help. You could go back to work or start a
business or something to occupy that sharp mind of yours. I know
you don’t have to work, but...”

“I’ll think about it and believe me, I know
I’m lucky not to have to worry about money, but bottom line? I
don’t want to come back yet. I’m in a very luxurious, secure cocoon
and I think I’ll stay a while.”

“Define ‘a while’.”

“Maybe a week...maybe even a month. I don’t
know. By the way, I’m very grateful that David stays in touch with
the police. O’Shea called today with a routine question and it
freaked me out.”

“David says the cops are surprised that the
Camerons haven’t used their influence to apply pressure on the
investigators. O’Shea is going to talk to Will’s parents
again.”

“Does he think they have something to do with
it?”

“David didn’t get that impression, just that
in a high profile case like this O’Shea expected the brass to lean
on him to solve it quickly. Will’s parents couldn’t be covering up
something, could they?”

“No, of course not. They adored him, but it’s
odd that John isn’t on the phone with the Mayor or even the
Governor every day. He has access. I wonder why he doesn’t use it.
But enough about my in-laws.” Alex rubbed her eyes and yawned. “
Look, France, I’m wiped out and I’ve got a big day of shopping
ahead of me. This time I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ve
got nothing to wear!”

“Retail therapy is almost as effective as
drugs or chocolate so give your AmEx a good workout. Sleep well,
sweetie…and call me!”

“Don’t worry. I will. Give my love to David,
and tell him to give you a big hug and a smoochy kiss from me.
Bye.”

David had been listening to Francie’s side of the
conversation and was now watching his wife intently from their
canopied bed in a room bedecked with enough frou-frou floral prints
to double as a Laura Ashley shop. She raised both palms in a
gesture of bewilderment and shook her head from side to side.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her. She
still blames herself for what happened. You saw what a mess she was
and now…she says the change of scenery was good for her and she
wants to stay in Miami indefinitely. This isn’t like Alex. She’s
usually so strong and rational.”

David wasn’t going to offer his opinion on
this subject without an invitation.

After a few minutes of silence, Francie
raised her eyes to him. “Aren’t you going to say anything? I’m
worried about her. She wouldn’t do anything stupid like hurt
herself, would she?” Alex’s hasty departure and her guilt about
Will’s death, combined with John Cameron’s sudden interest in her,
were troubling.

“No. Alex isn’t the suicide type, she’s a
survivor,” said David. “Maybe it was smart for her to start the
healing process in a place she doesn’t associate with Will.” He
paused, took a breath and dove into the deep end. “Don’t jump down
my throat, but sometimes I think she’s right to believe that she’s
partly responsible for what happened to Will.”

“What!” Francie snapped, hands on hips and an
edge in her voice.

“Well,” he began then hesitated.

“David, you better tell me what you mean if
you expect to get any sleep tonight.”

“Okay. I’ve walked from their apartment to
that market with Will lots of times. He never went through that
alley. He never even considered it. He always stuck to the street.
He liked to watch the people. I think she’s right that she put the
idea about the shortcut in his head that night. No guy is going to
take his time when he knows his woman is naked and waiting for him
at home.”

Francie seemed uncharacteristically calm as
she sat down in an overstuffed chair across the room from him and
drew her legs up. She rested her chin on her knees, concentrating.
When she looked up, her large gray eyes met his.