The Presence Part 28

"For being American?" Toni said.

David winced. "No, not exactly. And when I said 'we,' I meant Kevin and myself. For being of a different persuasion," he said lightly. "But people are wonderful. We had a great time in the village yesterday. Certainly, some of the older folks, gents, mainly, looked at us with a great deal of curiosity, but...everyone was curious and intrigued. We're actually going to get a lot of the locals up to the castle to see what we're up to, I think."

"That's good. I'm glad."

"But we don't really have a right to the place, so who knows how long Laird MacNiall will let it go on?"

Toni looked downward. Yes, how long could it go on?

"Well," she said, looking up. "In light of Laird MacNiall's pleasure over the vindication of his ancestor, I've thought of a way to change that particular bit of history in our tour."

"Oh, yeah?"

She nodded. "We have the great laird ride in just as before. He climbs the stairs to meet Annalise. It's glorious, a dramatic confrontation. Annalise pleads her innocence, then the two come running down the stairs--just as the bad guy rides in!"

David arched a brow to her. "Oh, Lord. Don't make me be the bad guy!"

She grinned. "No, it has to be Ryan. He's the only one with a prayer of controlling Wallace when Shaunessy is in the hall." She frowned suddenly, starting to jump up. "Wallace is...better, right?"

David nodded. "Sit. Finish your coffee. Wallace is right as rain this morning."

She sat. "Well, what do you think?"

"I like it. And MacNiall will like it. Ryan will love it. He'll have a chance to play the knight again."

She nodded. "I've got to run it by the others. And Bruce, of course."

Kevin came walking on in.

"What are you running by the others?"

With a sigh, she went through her idea again.

"Works for me!" Kevin said. "Want breakfast? What have we got? You know, David, we bought all those supplies yesterday and what we really need is to go grocery shopping for ourselves again."

"There's eggs," David said. "Plenty of them."

"Omelettes then."

"Um, want help?" Toni asked.

"No!" both of them said in unison.

"I'm not that bad a cook!" she protested.

"As long as we're not getting too elaborate," David said, "Kevin and I work best alone. Go on out and see old Wallace, why don't you? a.s.sure yourself that he's doing all right."

"Good idea!" she agreed, and started out.

The morning was crisp, clear and beautiful. As Toni walked from the castle to the stables, she found herself looking around, hoping that Eban wasn't about. She hated herself for still feeling so uneasy around the man, but she did. She was always ready to defend him in public. But inside, he made her uneasy.

She didn't see Eban as she walked on into the stables, but Shaunessy was gone. Bruce must have taken him. Wallace, however, was in his stall. Standing. He snorted as she walked toward him, and she thought that the horse was glad to see her.

She patted his nose, looking at his eyes, checking out his length thoroughly. "You're looking good this morning, fellow!" she told him. "Very good, as a matter of fact."

He stuck his head over the stall gate and pressed his nose against her chest, pushing her, as if he were looking for some kind of a handout.

"No, I didn't bring anything for you, boy," she told him, patting the downy nose. "We don't know what's making you sick! Maybe you're allergic to apples or carrots. Hmm. I wonder if that's possible. I haven't met this vet of yours yet, but when I do, I'll have to ask him about that."

The horse's huge brown eyes were on her, as if he really listened. He prodded her chest again with the tip of his soft nose, as if saying that such delights as apples and carrots couldn't possibly cause a problem.

"You are such a sweetie!" she told him.

She was startled when his ears suddenly went back flat. Turning around, she saw nothing. But she couldn't believe that the horse had suddenly become angry with her!

Then she heard a noise, a sc.r.a.ping sound from the rafters above her. A tingling of instinctive wariness vibrated throughout her limbs.

A ladder led up to the rafters. It was between her and the exit to the stables.

She inhaled deeply. So? Someone was up there. So what? It was probably just Eban, shelving hay, or...doing something.

The sound stopped, but she was still on edge.

"Well, Wallace, dear boy, I'm going to leave you to...enjoy your time off, stand around, do whatever horses do in their stalls," she said aloud. But she didn't walk out. Instead, she silently slipped the latch and entered the stall, standing by the horse's side. Still. Waiting.

At first, there was nothing at all. Then she heard movement above her again. She remained where she was, not breathing. Someone was coming down the ladder. She stayed hiding behind the horse, watching.

From around Wallace's flank, she saw a man coming down the ladder. He was in jeans and a casual denim shirt. She saw the back of his head first, his sandy colored hair.

Thayer.

He jumped the last few feet to the ground, dusted his hands on his jeans and looked around. He seemed to sigh with relief. Then he walked to the stable doors and hesitated, looking out. After a moment, he made a quick exit.

Toni remained with the horse for a moment, puzzled. Why should Thayer be nervous about being in the stables? He had as much right to come out here as any of them.

"Good boy," she murmured, patting Wallace's neck. She slipped back out of the stall, walked out down the aisle of stalls and found herself looking up the ladder.

What the h.e.l.l had he been doing up there?

She was just about to set a foot on the first rung of the ladder when she was startled by a voice.

"Eh, he be lookin' well and fine this mornin', miss, don't ye think?"

She swung around, almost in a panic herself. Eban was just inside the doorway, looking toward Wallace's stall.

She swallowed hard, forced a smile. Despite herself, she noted that he blocked the doorway.

"He looks very good, Eban. Thank you for watching him with such concern. He's really a wonderful horse."

"Aye, that he is," Eban agreed.

He didn't move from the doorway. If she was going to make an exit, she would have to walk by him.

"Well, thank you again," she murmured a bit awkwardly, striding toward the exit. She pa.s.sed him, painfully aware of his presence. She was afraid that he was going to reach a hand out, stop her.

But he didn't. Instead, he caused her to pause with his words.

"'E's trying to talk to ye, miss, ye know."

She felt almost as if she had been physically gripped. And so she turned back to him.

"What?"

"The laird. Not everyone is able t'see him. But ye.. .y've got the way, y'know. The touch."

He came closer to her and whispered, "Aye, y'must take care, grave care. Don't be lettin' 'em all know it. There's those out there, always, who would do evil. But the laird.. .the laird would tell ye things."

She felt every hair on her body stand on end. Her smile was about to crack.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said firmly, and turned.

Her footsteps were slow, but, by the time she neared the castle, she was nearly running.

As she entered the main hall, Ryan was coming down the stairs. "You went to see Wallace. Isn't it great, the old boy bounded back like a trooper!"

"Right. It's great."

She started up the stairs, anxious to hurry past him.

His hand fell on her arm. He stared at her quizzically. "Where are you going now? Kevin just shouted up to say that breakfast was ready."

"I--I just want to wash up," she said. "I'll be right back down. Don't wait for me, though. Everyone just eat, okay?"

Almost jerking free, she ran past him. She went straight to her room and found her purse. She dumped the contents on the bed, heedless of any mess. She dug into her wallet and found the card she had carried with her always, swearing that she would never use it.

She looked around, glad to realize that she'd remembered to plug her phone into the wall with the European adaptor on Sat.u.r.day.

She punched in the country code for the United States, hesitated, looked at the card and then dialed.

"I've heard about the great discovery old Doc Darrow has made," Robert said, greeting Bruce as he came into the pub. "Congratulations!"

Bruce took his friend's hand and shook it as he slid into the booth. They were in Stirling, on Robert's suggestion that they meet there.

"Might be a bit absurd to feel so elated about something so long ago, but..." Bruce said with a shrug. "Sure, I'm happy. It's a fine thing to discover that your heroic ancestor wasn't a wife killer."

Robert grinned.

"Why Stirling?" Bruce asked.

"Didn't want to make you come to Edinburgh. I had some business here, and I don't really want our man Jonathan to know that I'm meeting with you so often. Don't want to step on his toes there, you know? We need too much cooperation."

Bruce nodded. "Well, then fine. So?"

"Want to order first?"

"Sure," Bruce said, glancing around with a slightly arched brow. The pub was rather dingy, considering that Stirling offered a lot of really fine establishments. Actually, Bruce considered the city a true gem of the country.

"They have the most delicious fish and chips in the world here. Full of fat and cholesterol," Robert said. He grimaced. "Service is slow today. The old fellow who owns the place has lost another waitress. They all quit on him. He's a b.l.o.o.d.y b.u.g.g.e.r, he is. Still, the fish and chips make it worth the wait."

"How long a wait?"

Robert grinned. "Not too long for me. He knows who I am." To prove his point, he lifted a hand. A fleshy man in an ap.r.o.n made his way over.

"Aye, then, what'll it be, Detective Inspector?"

"Fish and chips for me." He looked at Bruce.

"Fish and chips, and a stout," Bruce said.

"I'll be puttin' a rush on it," the man said, and he shook his head. "La.s.ses these days! Dependable as s.h.i.te!"

"Lost another one, did you, George?"

"Came in Sunday mornin', took off Sunday afternoon, haven't see the lights o' her eyes since!" Muttering, he walked away.

"Someone should just tell him one day that he's a nasty b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Robert said.

George came back swiftly, nearly throwing a pint of stout down before Bruce.

"So?" Bruce said, when he was gone.

"Actually, I didn't dig up much. It's rather the coincidence of things that made me call you so quickly," Robert explained. "First, our Glasgow fellow, Thayer Fraser. The man has a record."

"Anything serious?"

"Some busts for drugs when he was young. Clean slate for the last several years. Played with a band, the Kinked Kilts, and his last gig was at a piano bar."

"As he said," Bruce murmured.

"He worked some shady places," Robert said. "Suspect, but not criminal."

"That's all on the man?"

"Aye, so far."

"And the others?"

"What I've gotten in from checking legally accessible records is rather strange. Apparently they're all exactly what they appear to be. I've found the college records from NYU, and some references to work. Not one of the Americans has a police record of any kind. But, as a point of interest, two of them are natural computer whizzes."