Somewhere My Lass by Beth Trissel Read Free Book Online

commented from his recliner. He cocked his head at Neil. “Is shampoo a scarce commodity in Scotland?”
    “Not as far as I know. Maybe Mora’s from way out in the country and makes do with soap,” he offered, having no better explanation.
    “Or a good brushing down, like a horse.”
    “Fergus—”
    Here’s a thought. Maybe she’s from a remote island in the Hebrides accessible only by fishing boats, where supplies run short and the islanders live in the manner of medieval peasants.”
    “She’s not the earthy sort.”
    “No. More the regal type with her imperious manner and expecting a maid.” Fergus snickered.
    His mind spinning, Neil reached toward the coffee table for the caffeine molecule emblazoned mug Fergus had provided. He took a sip of the steaming brew and tried to fathom the woman that was Mora, her fascinations, exasperations, and perplexities.
    Fergus fingered his left earlobe as he did when thinking. “Did Mrs. Dannon mention anything unusual about her niece?”
    “Nothing that I recall. Said she likes to knit and work puzzles.”
    Fergus snorted. “Mora?”
    “Maybe that was the old Mora, before the bump on her head.” But his words didn’t ring true even to Neil.
    Fergus grimaced. “Well, you can hardly ask Mrs. D for the details now, poor woman. I’ll miss her scones.”
    Neil still couldn’t believe that warmhearted soul was gone.
    “What does this MacDonald character want?” Fergus asked.
    “You make it sound like he’s in a film.”
    Running pale fingers through his orange thatch, Fergus countered, “Your life has spiraled into a movie of the week.”
    Neil offered no argument.
    “Why was he in your house in the first place? More to the point, how did he get in?”
    Neil shrugged. “The police aren’t sure, say the matter’s under investigation. Lieutenant Hale told me the master bedroom’s been ransacked. I didn’t even have the opportunity to look before I left for the hospital, so have no idea what’s missing.” He shifted uneasily. “That fiend is searching for something.”
    Fergus pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “What?”
    “My father has all those Scottish heirlooms stashed in there. Been in the MacKenzie family forever.”
    “Valuable stuff,” Fergus said.
    “Yeah. I’ll have to check everything against the list in the safe to see what’s been taken.”
    Fergus’s keen expression reminded Neil of a fox on a scent.
    “There are two other upstairs rooms. What about those?” Fergus asked.
    “Untouched. But the master suite’s much larger since the renovation and has far more antiques.”
    “That whole house is crammed full if someone wanted to steal them. They could load a semitrailer truck.” Fergus frowned.
    “Comforting thought. Thanks,” Neil muttered. “The downstairs wasn’t disturbed. Makes me think he’s after something in particular.”
    “Or you returned before he could finish and scared him off.”
    Neil envisioned an enraged kilt-clad Scotsman. “That’s what I thought. But he doesn’t seem the type to scare easy.”
    “Give yourself some credit, dude. You’re super scary.”
    “In my suit and tie, wielding that monkey headed cane?”
    Fergus raised his shoulder and let it drop. “Maybe he couldn’t find what he was after and left. For now.”
    “Again, thanks for the chins up.”
    “I told you to get a taser.”
    “Not everyone wants a stun gun for Christmas.”
    Fergus quirked an eyebrow at him. “Speak for yourself—”
    Mora’s howl broke into their conjecture. “Where are ye going with m’ cross?”
    “Just getting it out of the wet,” Wrenie answered.
    “I cannot lose it! ’Tis sacred to me.”
    “I’ll put it safely on the dresser.”
    The narrow space between Fergus’s eyebrows puckered. “She clings to that cross like the One Ring .”
    “She’s deeply religious.”
    “Or from Middle Earth. What exactly do we know about Mora?”
    Neil swallowed his coffee. “I told you all I