The Singing Sleuth Goes Home

The Singing Sleuth Goes Home

D.B. Barton

The Singing Sleuth Goes Home

by D.B. Barton

Cover by Marv Conn

First Edition 2011

Revised Edition 2017

Smashwords Edition 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

The Singing Sleuth Print Series:

The Singing Sleuth (2005, 2012)

The Singing Sleuth Returns (2007, 2014)

The Singing Sleuth Goes Home (2009, 2017)

The Singing Sleuth Crosses the Pond (2011)

The Singing Sleuth Does Las Vegas (2013)

The Singing Sleuth Takes a Bow (2015)

The Singing Sleuth Meets his Matches (2019)

The complete series can be ordered directly from:

www.singingsleuth.com.

Acknowledgments

I want to thank the people that I’ve bothered, badgered, and exasperated.

Peter MacPhee, Detective Chief Inspector

of the Northern Constabulary for answering my endless questions about Scottish police procedure and forensics by email and in person.

Diane Minty, Chief Registrar

of the Highland Council, Inverness Office for giving me the complete scoop on getting married in Scotland.

Sinclair Dunnett,

the owner and operator of Puffin Express for taking me on an eye-opening tour of the Orkney Islands.

Barbara and Richard Coles,

my English friends, for chauffeuring me around the Highlands, listening to me fret, and acting like human thesauri by giving me another word for ….

Andy Fraser,

a transplanted Scotsman, for tasting my recipes, teaching me colorful colloquialisms, and sharing his witty and often biting Scottish humor.

Susan Labare,

for being my sounding board, joining me in song, and loving Alec DunBarton nearly as much as I do.

Table of Contents

PROLOQUE

Chapter 1: Mist Covered Mountains

Chapter 2: Auld Lang Syne

Chapter 3: First Cut is the Deepest

Chapter 4: I’m Gonna Be 500 Miles

Chapter 5: It’s a Game

Chapter 6: MacGregor’s Gathering

Chapter 7: Wait a Little While

Chapter 8: Season of the Witch

Chapter 9: The World is Not Enough

Chapter 10: Maneater

Chapter 11: For Your Eyes Only

Chapter 12: Hold On

Chapter 13: Caledonia

Chapter 14: Life is a Long Song

Chapter 15: Don’t Answer Me

Chapter 16: Scotland the Brave

Chapter 17: Bewitched

Chapter 18: Behind Blue Eyes

Chapter 19: No More, ‘I Love You’s’

Chapter 20: You Had Me from Hello

EPILOQUE

Alec’s Favorite Recipes

Copyright Acknowledgements

PROLOGUE

Wednesday Evening

7th of October

5:33 PM EDT

Alec DunBarton was very intuitive about three things—food, drink, and murder. When it came to the first two items, he could sense before most humans that a long-awaited meal was on its way to him. He didn’t need to hear the familiar clatter of plates or see a harried server approach.

Although the trait was not particularly useful, it was functioning perfectly when he murmured to Paige, The beverage cart is on its way, Lass. What can I get you to drink?

Paige closed the flight magazine she had been thumbing through and tucked it into the seat pouch facing her. As she released the food-tray latch and allowed it to drop open, she replied, I’d like a glass of red wine. Are you having Scotch?

Of course. Alec’s dark brown eyes danced with amusement. When I flew British Airlines last January, the flight attendant had to obtain my single-malt whisky from first class.

The steward, now within hearing range announced with a smile, That won’t be necessary, sir. I have plenty on hand. After taking Paige’s order, he adeptly passed her a pouch of pretzels and a small bottle of Pepperwood Grove Cabernet Sauvignon, standing upright in a plastic cup.

Turning to Alec, the flight attendant asked whether he would prefer Glenlivet or Glenfiddich. Since Alec favored Glenlivet, he requested the former and was given a thirty-milliliter bottle and a miniature tumbler.

Alec emptied the contents into his glass, swallowed a generous mouthful, and glanced at Paige. Her attention seemed divided between the red wine and a passenger waiting to use the restroom. Unsure whether the drink was to her liking, Alec asked, Would you rather have a gin and tonic? I can call the steward back.

Paige took a sip and shook her head. No, it’s fine. But, I have been a bit worried. What have your parents said about me? Do they think you’re marrying too soon after …?

In response to Paige’s beseeching gaze and seductive pout, Alec experienced a surge of both tenderness and desire. Indifferent to their surroundings, he placed his hands alongside her upturned face and pressed his lips down to hers. One kiss turned into several.

Wishing his seat was roomier and he could hold Paige’s body close to his, Alec reluctantly pulled away. Under his breath, he groaned, This trip is going to be bloody long.

It’s your own fault, Paige replied. Before you get any ideas about making us charter members of the Mile-High Club, I want to know the truth. How does your family feel about our wedding engagement?

Alec responded with a grin. My cousins, William and Roddy, are looking forward to meeting you and to our upcoming nuptials. In fact, I received an email from them this morning. Alec removed a copy of the message from his breast pocket and invited Paige to follow along.

Nuzzling her perfumed neck appreciatively, Alec read out loud:

Subj: See you soon!

Date: 6th of October, 11:45:31 AM BST

From: RDunBarton@DunBartonInn.com

To: AlecDunBarton@aol.com

William and I can’t wait to see you and meet your bride-to-be. We hear that she’s never been to Scotland before. I must say, you’re coming at a grand time of year. Since the weather has gotten nippy and the tourists have begun to vacate, you’ll have the hotel practically to yourselves. At present, the autumn tints are spectacular, and the two-week Highland Food Festival has just gotten underway. We haven’t forgotten how much you love to eat ….

When Paige began to giggle, Alec stopped reading, pretending to be affronted. Roddy shouldn’t talk. While I was losing forty pounds on Diamond’s Diet, he gained two stone or should I say twenty-eight pounds.

With an impish expression, Paige squeezed Alec’s knee. Not everyone has your willpower, darling. Tell me about Roddy. From his email, he sounds very nice.

"Aye, he is. But, he’s also a ladies’ man. The last time I spoke to him, he was dating three women at the same time—two from our hotel. I’m not sure what they see in him. His red hair is the color of pumpkin squash, and it’s usually disheveled.

William, my elder cousin, is cut from different cloth. He’s shy, serious, and sensitive. You wouldn’t think that he and Roddy were brothers. Roddy knows how to pamper the guests, and William is a pro at handling the business end. Together, they keep the DunBarton Inn running smoothly.

Paige nodded as though committing their individual characteristics to memory and asked, Did you pal around with them when you were young?

Sipping his Scotch, Alec recanted, "Roddy and I were inseparable and we had more in common. As lads, we called William, Sioraf, which is Gaelic for giraffe. Will’s neck was very long, and Roddy and I used to tease him every time his huge Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Even though William was a scrawny kid, he could pack a punch."

Alec stroked his check remembering the times he had stepped out of line. After munching on a few pretzel nuggets, he picked up the email that had fallen on the tray and resumed reading.

This weekend, the hotel is hosting the Caledonian Writers’ Annual Conference. On Thursday night, the conference committee will be meeting privately to discuss their upcoming events and, from Friday evening to Sunday morning, there will be guests and local writers attending various functions throughout the hotel. A famous literary agent from London—Ian Griffin, will be on the flight you’re taking from Gatwick to Inverness. Be a good lad and see that you welcome him.

I wasn’t certain whether you would be requiring one bedroom or two during your stay. Since the DunBarton men are known for their sexual prowess and virility, I assume you and your sweetheart will be comfy in the honeymoon suite. No paying guests have requested it. So, it’s yours, if you want it.

Alec chuckled. It’s a charming room with a four-poster king-sized bed, a fireplace, and a spacious sitting room. From its bay windows, you can see the River Ness and the tree-lined grassy banks beyond. The bathroom is en suite, of course, and has a garden tub large enough for two.

He squeezed Paige’s hand as he murmured tub and smiled wickedly when he spied goose bumps on her arms.

Paige derailed him from his passion-filled thoughts by asking, What else did Roddy write?

Grudgingly, Alec continued.

Your parents arrived three days ago, and they’re both looking well. William and I were amazed to hear that they’re thinking of moving back to Inverness when your dad retires next year. Your mother says that London has become too noisy, and your dad is eager to play golf with civilized folk who invented the game. It would be great to have more family up here. It’s unfortunate that the DunBarton clan has been shrinking of late. When I mentioned that to your mother, she told William and me to stop wasting time, get married and produce progeny! I believe the next two months should be interesting.

William is going to meet you and that literary agent at the airport. Don’t be shocked when you see your car, (the one you owned prior to taking the accounting job with Flagship Cruise Line). Your old Mini Cooper now has the DunBarton Inn emblem embossed on its doors, so you can’t have it back.

See you soon.

Roddy

Before Alec could make a salient remark concerning his long-lost car, Paige sighed. I feel better about meeting your cousins, but I still know nothing about your parents. Start with your dad.

Alec polished off the remainder of his drink and began. You’ll adore my father. He learned how to put people at ease when he became a doctor. My dad is laid-back, amusing, and handsome, much like his son.

Does he resemble Pierce Brosnan too? Paige ribbed.

Laughing, Alec answered, No, Lass. I’m the only one in the family endowed with those good looks. My father is quite bald and speaks with a similar accent and cadence as his hero, Sir Sean Connery, who played the first James Bond. Don’t be surprised if my dad introduces himself as, ‘James, James DunBarton.’

I’m glad you warned me, Paige smiled. Does your mother share your father’s sense of humor?

Alec replied evasively, "I’ve told you, haven’t I? My mother isn’t Scottish. She was born and raised in England."

Realizing that Paige might not understand what he was implying, Alec added, She can be sort of territorial and excitable, especially with my dad’s side of the family. But, once you get to know her, you’ll find she’s extremely loyal and reliable. I wouldn’t worry.

Aware that he had just made his mother sound like a bad-tempered English terrier, Alec glanced at Paige.

Paige, in turn, finished her red wine in one gulp and requested another bottle.

CHAPTER ONE

Mist Covered Mountains

Words by John Cameron (1856)

Thursday Morning—8th of October

Alec and Paige had exactly seventy-four minutes to reach Gatwick’s busy south terminal and check in for their 9:35 AM flight to Inverness. After a brief stop at the Bureau de Change, Alec guided Paige to the Flybe Airlines’ ticket desk in Zone F.

While waiting in line for their boarding passes, Alec became absorbed in a conversation between the ticket agent and a corpulent man dressed in an expensive three-piece suit. From the way the man stood, with his feet in a wide stance and his arms akimbo, he bore a striking resemblance to Henry VIII. Even though the former King of England had been captured on canvas in 1540, scowling and resting his hand on the hilt of a jeweled sword, the stranger looked more menacing.

In an arrogant tone, the man snapped, You can’t be serious. A man of my girth can’t possibly be expected to sit in a middle seat. Find something else. My patience is wearing thin.

Alec tried to catch the ticket agent’s soft response, but only managed to hear the customer reply, That’s better. Now, I won’t need to speak to your supervisor, Miss Davis.

As the man raised his eyes from her nameplate, he stroked his neatly-trimmed beard and attempted to smile. His stubby, ringed fingers caressed the young woman’s hand for a split second while taking the boarding pass from her.

After gathering his belongings, he walked toward the security area. Alec found himself wondering whether Henry VIII’s twin had a penchant for marrying a succession of women and then beheading them.

Paige brought Alec’s attention back to the present as she whispered, We’re up next.

The harassed agent welcomed them with a brittle smile. When she glanced down at the newcomers’ tickets and passports, Miss Davis said haltingly, You’re also going … to Inverness.

Paige glanced at Alec before asking, That unpleasant fellow ahead of us was Ian Griffin, wasn’t he?

Both Alec and Paige looked at the ticket agent expectantly. By way of reply, she answered, Your seats are directly behind Mr. Griffin’s. I can move you to a different section of the plane. Seats B and C are available in row three.

Alec declined with a shake of his head. Instead of responding to Paige’s questioning gaze, Alec reached for their papers and hurried Paige off to domestic departures.

Despite an early morning fog in London, the flight to Inverness took off just twenty minutes late. Alec speculated that they would be in the Highlands by noon. Relaxing for the first time since arriving in England, Alec stared out the window. As the gentle countryside disappeared behind thickening clouds, he breathed in deeply and sang.

Oh, roe, soon shall I see them, oh.

Hee-roe, see them, oh see them.

Oh, roe, soon shall I see them,

the mist covered mountains of home!

There shall I visit the place of my birth.

They’ll give me a welcome, the warmest on earth.

So loving and kind, full of music and mirth,

the sweet-sounding language of home.

Alec never got a chance to repeat the first verse. Ian Griffin, sitting in the aisle seat in front of them, craned his neck around to face Paige and snarled, Can’t you do something about your country bumpkin? There has been far too much inbreeding in Scotland.

Before Alec could retort, Paige replied with icy clarity. You have no idea to whom you’re maligning. My fiancé, Alec DunBarton, is a two-star officer on the Pegasus. His analytical and investigative skills are topnotch, and his services have been used by the Fort Lauderdale Police to solve baffling murder cases. Via song lyrics, he’s able to uncover hidden agendas and expose killers. You should be ….

Ian Griffin, who had been quiet to this point, yawned and turned away. Speaking to the woman sitting to his right, he said loudly, She must be American. It’s a pity we didn’t win the Revolutionary War.

Alec grinned at Paige, whose mouth was agape, and whispered, Don’t give him another thought. These literary types can be full of themselves.

Paige shuddered. He’d better behave himself on the ride to your cousin’s hotel. In all my years working as a cruise consultant, I’ve never met anyone so disagreeable, and I’ve met some winners!

Mesmerized by the fiery gleam in Paige’s green eyes, Alec reflected upon her ability to fight for people she loved and for her capacity to forgive those who had hurt her. Paige’s vulnerable side had captured his heart and her passionate nature repeatedly aroused his senses.

Unable to express those thoughts out loud, he teased, You were a little fast and loose with the truth, Lass. I am the controller on the Pegasus and have helped the police solve three murders, but you made me sound as though I was a high-ranking military officer and an expert criminologist.

Well, I think you’re incredibly gifted, Paige asserted as she rested her head against Alec’s shoulder and closed her eyes. While she dozed, Alec eavesdropped on the conversation between Ian Griffin and the woman in the window seat.

He learned that Griffin had been given fictional and non-fictional writing samples from members of the Caledonian Writer’s Association. The participants were told that the literary agent had the means to represent them and the connections to sell their manuscripts to prestigious publishers. On Saturday, Griffin was scheduled to meet with those authors to critique their work and to give an inspirational speech at the awards’ dinner ceremony.

It sounded harmless until Alec overheard the literary agent say, Not one piece came up to my standards. If those amateurs suppose that I’m going to pussyfoot around and encourage them to keep writing, they have another think coming. Every piece was rubbish—not even good enough to line a budgerigar cage.

The tiny hairs on the back of Alec’s head stood on end as Griffin carried on his tirade. Under his breath, Alec muttered to himself, "I’m afraid he’s not going to survive the weekend."

At the baggage claim area, Alec and Paige eagerly watched the conveyor belt for their suitcases. The literary agent was one of the first passengers to pick up his luggage. Alec did not inquire where he was going when Griffin followed a tall man out of the building to a black car, illegally double-parked in front of the airport.

While Alec was reaching for a garment bag from the carousel, he heard, You’re a sight for sore eyes.

Alec turned around and joyfully gave William