Dressed to Kilt by Hannah Reed Page B

usually we hadn’t for good reason. I expected an unlikely scenario from someone like Bridie, who’d never dealt with a situation like this, but Sean had jumped right onto the same bandwagon. He has a heart of gold, but he isn’t the sharpest when it comes to detecting and the tedious process of rational elimination.
    Sean tends to affect a stiff and proper pose whenever he wears the official uniform, which he does proudly on every occasion he can, and this was one of those occasions. The inspector, on the other hand, is rarely decked out, preferring a less obvious show of authority. Tonight he had on beige trousers and a white oxford button-down rolled at the sleeves.
    A look of pained annoyance crossed the inspector’s face, an expression not uncommon when he was dealing with Sean. “Please give us a moment. I need tae have a private word with Sean and Eden,” he said to Bridie, leading the way to the hall, where he turned to Sean.
    â€œSo,” he said to his constable recruit in a controlled, low tone, “ye think somebody sent a warning that was found by the deceased, as would be expected, since she always brought in the mail, according tae Bridie here. And somehow the warning was intended fer Patricia Martin? And, tae top it off, the killer followed her all the way from Edinburghtae murder her in the distillery and then managed tae botch the job by doin’ in the wrong sister?”
    I added another point. “And what plans would Patricia have that she needed to stop? And why threaten her through Henrietta? And without addressing Patricia specifically in the note, how could anyone have guessed the warning was for her?”
    â€œEden’s right,” the inspector said, scowling at Sean. “That won’t do.”
    â€œIt could be her politician husband who thought he was doin’ away with the wife,” Sean insisted.
    â€œWe’ll leave the speculation fer now,” the inspector said, glaring at Sean. “And if ye have any more bright ideas, ye need tae express them tae me in private, not go blathering tae others.”
    From past experience with him, I was well aware that he didn’t approve of voicing theories in public, where the rumor mill would grind and churn out something altogether unsavory and most likely untrue.
    He went on addressing Sean. “Why don’t ye tell the lot in the tasting room that they can go fer the time being. But not tae leave the village. I’ve already made that clear, but another reminder won’t hurt.”
    â€œI’ll put it tae them firmly that no one is tae go against yer orders,” Sean said, hustling off on his new mission to warn the group against travel.
    Staying in Glenkillen wasn’t going to be an issue for those who worked daily at the distillery. Most of tonight’s invitees were local and affiliated with the distillery in some capacity. I’d learned that Archie and Florence owned a home in Glenkillen and that they were renting out one of theirbedrooms to Gordon until his financial situation improved to the point that he could purchase his own home.
    Nor was it a problem for Janet Dougal, the tactless American, who had checked into the Whistling Inn upon her arrival in Glenkillen. Her departure date was a week out. Hopefully the case would be solved before then and she could be on her way.
    The victim’s sister, Patricia Martin, also had booked into the inn, and her original idea had been to depart by train after spending a few days with her sister. Little had she known that those days would be spent planning her sister’s funeral.
    Katie Taylor would have had an hour’s drive home after the event, and based on the weather conditions, she had made arrangements in advance to stay with a friend for the night. She’d be imposing on that friend for a little while longer.
    We rejoined Bridie and the inspector said to her, “Ye shouldn’t be alone tonight. Where is