“I’d make a good…” Gray glances at me. “Consulting detective?”
McCreadie laughs. “As long as you don’t expect a cut of my pay, you can call yourself whatever you like. Yes, it appears to be the same killer. I would say itis,but we must always leave room for doubt when any exists.” He glances at me. “No insult to Catriona.”
“None taken. I am satisfied as long as no one continues to doubt that I was attacked by whatseemedto be the raven killer.”
“There is no doubt of that,” McCreadie says. “I apologize again for the earlier confusion. Now, would you take me through the events of that evening?”
I glance at Isla. “I think I should be honest here, as to what I was doing out that evening. If I may?”
Isla hesitates. It won’t do me any favors to admit I’d stolen her locket. Any lie, though, taints my testimony.
Isla nods. “You may. I would like to say, first, that the matter has been resolved, and I am fully persuaded of Catriona’s commitment to this second chance life has given her. I do not hold this—or any—prior action against her.”
“Well, now I reallydowant to know what you were doing out there,” McCreadie says.
I explain. As I do, both men’s moods shift, sparks of outrage from McCreadie and a descending thundercloud of anger from Gray.
“Your locket?” McCreadie says. “She stole your grandmother’slocket?”
Isla raises her hands. “The old Catriona stole it. The one sitting with us does not recall that and, on realizing what she had done, she took the necessary steps to retrieve the necklace. Dangerous steps that nearly cost Catriona her life.”
McCreadie continues to grumble, but his anger will pass quickly. Quick to temper and quicker to laughter, as my nan would say. It’s Gray I watch. It’s the weight ofhisanger that I feel. His is deeper. His will linger.
“Is there anything else we should know about, Catriona?” he asks finally, that cool gaze turning on me.
Isla tries to cut in, but I beat her to it. “I honestly do not know, sir. Mrs. Ballantyne mentioned the locket, and knowing I have stolen things in thepast, I feared I had taken it. I presumed if I had, it would be at the pawnbroker. Fortunately, it was. There may be other things I took before my accident. There may be things I said or did before my accident. Nothing since.”
“So you have been forthright with us on all subjects since the accident?”
“Duncan,” Isla says. “That is an entirely unfair question. Let me rephrase that with respect to her right to a private life. Catriona? Have you stolen anything since your accident? From us or from anyone else?”
“Only a cup of coffee.” At her look, I say, “It was from Dr. Gray’s breakfast tray. He didn’t finish his morning pot, and so I had a cup.”
Isla struggles to suppress a smile, and says gravely, “We shall see that you are allowed your own coffee.”
“Thank you.”
“Since your accident, have you lied about anything related to your employment or your position as a member of this household?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge. It is possible that I said something that was not true because I don’t remember the truth, but I have not intentionally lied.”
“Since your accident, have you done anything that could harm any member in this household?”
“No.”
Isla glances at her brother as McCreadie jokes about her taking a job as a barrister. His anger has already passed. Gray stays quiet. He’s not going to say that he accepts my words at face value—I’m not exactly hooked up to a polygraph. But he isn’t challenging me further, and that’s the best I can hope for.
I continue with my story. McCreadie is impressed by how I fought back and teases that Isla should have a knife of her own, to which she heartily agrees, and he realizes that was a dangerous joke to make. There’s a little back-and-forth there, with him trying to talk her out of it and her making plans to purchase one “posthaste.”
Gray pushes to his feet. “You’ve put the idea into her head, Hugh, and there will be no getting it out. The best you can do is teach her how to use it.”
“Use aknife?” he sputters.
“Would you prefer a revolver?” Isla says. “Although, now that you mention it—”
“I did not mention it. You did.”
“I should like a revolver. One of those tiny ones that American ladies carry in their handbags.”
“They do not carry pistols in their handbags, Isla. You have been reading too many of those novels of yours.”
“But one would fit in a handbag, would it not? That is an excellent idea, Hugh. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“I didnotsuggest it.”
Gray clears his throat. “Please do continue this lively discussion without me. I have a body to attend to.”
He rises and gets to the door before looking at me. When his brows knit, I almost exhale in relief. Okay, so he might not have forgiven me for the locket yet, but he isn’t angry enough to bar me from the examination room.
I nod and hurry after him.