Bonnie of Evidence by Maddy Hunter Read Free Book Online

stared at the mannequin. They stared at each other. “Socks!” they echoed in perfect unison, as if the ability to predict what the other was going to say was second nature to them. “Group hug, group hug.” They surrounded me like two slices of marble rye around a half-pound of pastrami, giving me a heartfelt squeeze before hurrying to the mannequin for a closer look.
    “Love the socks,” said Erik. He bent down to smooth his fingers over the ribbing. “Feels like wool and poly blend. You think I can wear them with my sandals?”
    Alex shook his head. “Not if you want to be seen with me, you can’t. How much are the shoes?”
    “Doesn’t matter. They’re ugly. I wouldn’t wear them if they were giving them away.” They were black, tongueless oxfords with lacings that crossed the top of the foot and wrapped around the leg to tie at mid-calf, kinda like what a business exec might buy if he were looking for just the right shoes to wear with a tutu.
    Alex sighed woefully. “You’re right. Ugly and impractical. I wouldn’t wear them either.”
    “How about modified hiking boots?” I piped up. “That’s what our local guide wore yesterday, and I thought he looked rather fetching.”
    Delight flitted across their faces. They looked at me. They looked at each other. “Shall we keep her?” asked Alex.
    “I’d love to,” Erik said in a conspiratorial tone, “but I think her husband might notice.”
    “The cad. So, Emily,” Alex inquired, eyes leaping with excitement, “what else would you recommend to complete our ensembles?”
    “ Whoa! I’m not an expert in—”
    “Scottish fanny pack?” asked Erik. He toyed with the tasseled pouch that hung from the mannequin’s belt and rested at groin-level, like a furry cod piece. “The Scots call this thing a sporran. Or how about a Scottish bread knife?” He tapped the sheath of the long-bladed dagger suspended from the mannequin’s waist. “Or a Scottish shawl?” He fingered the length of tartan cloth that was draped neatly over the mannequin’s left shoulder.
    I looked from Erik to Alex. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather eat lunch?”
    Alex regarded me, wide-eyed. “Eat, rather than shop? Are you insane?”
    I smiled involuntarily. Wow . That clinched it. I loved these guys.
    _____
    We made it back to the bus just in time for both men to receive their coordinates from Mom and traipse off into the great unknown for ten short minutes with their individual teams. Much to my astonishment, each team finished its search within the allotted time, without any pouting, sniping, or name calling, so we were able to reload the bus and head for Inverness right on schedule. I figured this had to have been an easy find, because everyone seemed to be in a good mood. They were lending their voices to Wally’s singalong, chatting each other up across the aisle, and talking to family back home on their cell phones. I guess success bred contentment. Even Isobel Kronk, who’d gone ballistic about Bernice’s GPS failure yesterday, seemed happy.
    And not just happy.
    As she exchanged quips with Cameron Dasher across the aisle, she looked absolutely exuberant.
    Almost too exuberant.
    And for whatever reason, that worried me.

four
    Dad was first off the bus at our hotel, so he made good use of his time by videotaping everyone else getting off, just in case Mom happened to miss it. I paused in front of him, mugging for the camera like a six-year-old, because seeing Dad wield a piece of photographic equipment reminded me of the silly pictures he’d shot of me on the last family vacation we’d taken together, when I was six years old.
    Dad loved travel. He just preferred that other people do it so he wouldn’t have to do it himself.
    “Hi, Dad.” I waved idiotically.
    “Hi, hon.”
    “Having a good time?”
    “Yup.”
    “Are you getting geared up to shoot some jaw-dropping footage of Nessie?”
    “Yup.”
    Our hotel was perched on a grassy hillock overlooking