Highland Fling Episode 70

“Should we pass on this information to the men looking for her?” Mcgregor asked. “Not yet,” said Eddie. “You know more, don’t you, Belle?

Does she have the alexandrite? Do you know that?”

“Not for sure,” Mirabelle admitted. “But she definitely took something she was hiding. I don’t know what it was but there was a package of some sort concealed in her room.”

“How do you know?” Mcgregor asked. Mirabelle felt her cheeks colour. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Dust moved on a surface,” she said. “In an alcove. A hiding place.”

It was always better to tell the truth – just, in this case, maybe not the whole truth.

Mcgregor seemed to accept this. “So, did she know who tried to kill her?” he asked.

Bruce returned with the walking maps and behind his back Mirabelle shrugged.

They were all aware they couldn’t talk freely in front of Mcgregor’s cousin. Instead, Mirabelle helped him to lay out the map.

“Where did they find the watch?” she asked Eddie.

Eddie examined the map efficiently. “West of here and north.”

He pointed to the moor beyond the mountains that overlooked Brochmor.

“On foot she might make four miles an hour. She’d be lucky at that – it’s difficult ground,” Mirabelle said.

Bruce looked at her with a shocked expression tempered with admiration.

“She started here.” Mirabelle pointed at the location of the Robertson estate.

“By the time she dropped the watch, it must have been three hours later. She was set on a course. I mean, we can guess the broad sweep of her direction from that information, and actually, it’s a strange one.”

“Yes,” Eddie mused as he perused it. “What’s a clue but a mistake given another name?”

“What’s strange about it?” Bruce stared at the map. Mcgregor nodded slowly as he took in the information.

“It’s illogical, Bruce. I mean, if you want to get out of difficult territory you make for transport. As your wife, Eleanor can’t just turn up at the local railway station – or anywhere local, in fact. Everybody knows who she is. She’d be recognised in a heartbeat.

“Logically she should make for somewhere she won’t be recognised, and her best chance at that is on the coast.”

Eddie nodded. “It’s a long coastline,” he said. “Look at it.”

This was certainly true. The line intruded inland a long way, taking in the inlets of a sea loch which Eleanor had seemingly passed by.

Mcgregor continued. “She could steal a boat, or even hire one, if it was far away enough. She’d be less likely to be recognised, wouldn’t she?

“Either that or she ought to make for as large a town as she can – she might get away unnoticed at Inverness railway station, for example, or Aberdeen.

“But she hasn’t gone in that direction. Actually, she hasn’t gone straight for the coast either. She’s headed inland to the Highlands.

“Away from the coast and away from the main towns. I mean, what’s she playing at? There’s nothing there.”

“I wouldn’t say that, old man. There’s got to be something,” Eddie laid a finger on the land to the west of where the watch was found.

“They lost her scent over rock – that has to be somewhere here,” he mused.

“Mr Robertson, what’s in this direction? This 20-mile stretch, say?” He drew a circle with his finger.

Bruce put his hand to his chin. “There are a couple of places – friends with estates,” he said.

“Small villages. Are you sure she isn’t heading for the coast – the west coast, that is?”

Mirabelle considered this. “It’s a helluva walk,” she said.

“Across hills too. Why would she do that? She doesn’t have to, just to get to the sea. Is there anybody in this area she likes, Bruce?”

Mirabelle refocused Bruce’s attention on the circle Eddie had drawn. “Anyone she might feel close to?”

“Quite the reverse, I’d say. And they mostly live in London. They come up for the shooting, that kind of thing. Not at this

Away from the coast and away from the main towns. I mean, what’s she playing at? There’s nothing there

time of year. A lot of that area is forested, actually. There are a few climbers’ huts.

“Some academics from time to time – mostly in the summer.”

“Academics?” Eddie’s voice sounded casual. Mirabelle stifled a smile. He was very good. Bruce continued, getting into his stride. He wanted his wife back, after all. They all did.

“The geology is interesting, apparently. And the archaeology. St Andrews brings students up during the breaks – not at this time of year, though.”

Eddie grinned. “We’ve found the boffins,” he said. “Do you know where they live while they’re here?”

“They bought a place,” Bruce replied. “On Michael Mcgregor’s estate. He couldn’t believe what they paid.”

“And where is that?”

Bruce squinted at the map. “There,” he replied, pointing. “West of Struy.”

Eddie picked up the chart and left the room. “Sergeant,” he shouted as he passed through the doorway and headed towards the kitchen.

Mirabelle sank on to the sofa.

“Will they find her now?” Bruce asked. “I mean, if she ran, she must have been terrified.

“Someone tried to kill her yesterday and she didn’t feel safe here, in her own home. My poor El.”

Mirabelle’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure what to say. Eleanor almost certainly had the alexandrite.

And that meant she was involved in something unspeakably shady.

Government lists of potential spies included a high proportion of academics and journalists. Eleanor had been in the second group before she got married and this might link her to the first.

“Bruce,” she said, trying to break it to him gently. “The thing is, Eleanor might be with somebody.”

“What do you mean?”

“She might not be... alone.”

More tomorrow.

Copyright © Sara Sheridan 2020, extracted from Highland Fling, published by Constable, an imprint of Little, Brown Book Group, at £8.99.