Murder on the Moor (18 page)

Rex shut himself in
the library, preparing himself mentally for the phone call he knew he must make to his mother in Edinburgh. Outside in the hall, he heard the scrapes and thuds of suitcases being moved. He really should help Mrs. Farquharson with the luggage, he thought, since Cuthbert was not supposed to put any weight on his ankle, but Alistair and his new medic friend were there, and he really needed to get this conversation out of the way.

Mrs. Graves answered on the third ring in her refined Edinburgh accent. “How did the housewarming party go?” she inquired. “Did Helen use the lace doilies I made for her?”

“Aye,” Rex lied. “I wish you could have been here, but under the circumstances, it’s better you weren’t.”

“Och, it’s a long way, and ye know I don’t travel well … What do ye mean, it’s better I wasna there?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

“Some rather disturbing news, I’m afraid. Moira Wilcox arrived unexpectedly and, well, she was murdered. Mother?” he said when she didn’t answer. “Are you there?”

“What was she doing at Gleneagle Lodge?”

“She gatecrashed the party. I believe Miss Bird may have told her where to find me.”

“Oh, dear. But, Reginald, how was she murdered?”

“Did you hear aboot the Moor Murders?”

His mother rarely watched the news or read a paper. She said she found it too depressing.

“Aye, we were discussing it at our bridge game this afternoon,” she replied. “I told Elspeth and Winkie that the police force should put my son on the case so he could catch the evil killer and put him behind bars.”

Rex cleared his throat. “It so happens I did catch the killer. He was staying at the Loch Lochy Hotel and accompanied the Aller-dice family to the party.”

His mother let out a small scream. “Ye had a child murderer in the house? Did he kill Moira?”

“It seems she recognized him from years back, and he drowned her in the bath.”

“That’s terrible. How is Helen taking all this?”

“She’s bearing up well. She’s a tough lass.”

“I really like Helen. I hope all this murder ye get involved in will not put her off being wi’ ye.”

“I’ll call you later when I have more time, Mother. What I needed to ask you was if you could arrange the service for Moira. Most of her friends are from the Charitable Ladies of Morningside. I’m not sure what will happen aboot the funeral. I suppose it depends on whether we can locate her father in Glasgow and when her body will be released.”

Rex knew there was nothing his mother and her charitable lady friends enjoyed more than arranging a funeral. They would hold a flower committee, a readings committee, and a refreshments committee, and any other committee they could dream up.

After managing to extricate himself from the phone—his mother eager to hear all the details to relay to her friends—he went to attend to his guests. “My mother sends her regards,” he told the Farquharsons. “And sympathizes with your ordeal.”

“Nonsense,” Estelle replied. “We had a ball. It really was very exciting, especially when you knocked Beardsley unconscious. I’m just sorry about Moira, naturally.”

Alistair wrapped an arm around Rex’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You were fantastic. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m sorry I missed all the action,” John, the young medic, said with a seductive smile at Alistair.

After depositing Cuthbert safely in the Land Rover and issuing instructions to Mrs. Farquharson regarding proper care for the ankle, John took Alistair off to the pub for a drink. The Allerdices climbed into their van and drove away up the hill, ready to face the media onslaught at the hotel, while a cheerful Donnie set off cross-country with Honey.

“I will never get on a horse,” Rex said, waving them off. “They are the scariest of all God’s creatures. I must suffer from acute hippophobia.”

Helen laughed. “It’s hard to imagine you on horseback,” she agreed.

The sun peeped out between gray-tinged clouds, brightening up the landscape in a final effort before evening, and reviving Rex’s spirits. “Alone at last,” he said, watching the last of the vehicles disappear from sight. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Not quite,” Helen replied, looking up the road, where a battered gray van was cresting the hill toward them.

Shielding his eyes, Rex squinted at it. “Well, I’ll be …It’s the McCallum brothers come to fix the radiator.”

“Wonders will never cease.”

“Och, I’ll never get a chance to give you this, it seems. Best open it now.” He delved into his pocket and handed Helen a small blue velvet box, which he had purchased in Edinburgh and been planning to give her over the weekend at a propitious moment.

“What is it?” she asked, cornflower blue eyes flashing up at him in excitement.

“Open it and see.”

“Oh! Rex, you didn’t!” she said snapping open the box.

Inside, embedded in navy moiré silk, sparkled a diamond ring, its setting in the shape of a heart.

the end

About the Author

Born in Bloomington, Indiana, and now residing permanently in Florida, C. S. Challinor was educated in Scotland and England, and holds a joint honors degree in Latin and French from the University of Kent, Canterbury, as well as a diploma in Russian from the Pushkin Institute in Moscow. She has traveled extensively and enjoys discovering new territory for her novels.