I asked.
“Scotsmen have no aversion ta bugs,” she said with a hint of snark, “much ta the dismay of our visitors from North America. Window screens are an American contrivance that you’ll find nowhere in yer travels here.”
Note to self—Items for immediate purchase: Insect repellent. Fly swatter.
“But it wasn’t a bug that killed the lady,” Morna cautioned us.
“Right,” said Wally as he heaved himself off the ottoman. “It was demons. If I’m no longer needed here, I’ll head back to my room to make a few phone calls. I have a number for her son, so I’ll let him know what’s happening, and maybe he can fill me in on the allergy situation.”
Etienne checked his watch. “Sounds good. I’ll wait here for the emergency services unit. It’ll give me time to jot down some notes.”
“They’re coming all the way from Inverness,” Morna warned him, “so yer in fer a long wait.” She boosted herself to her feet and tightened the belt on her robe with a firm tug. “I’d like ta leave now. Mrs. Miceli and I will be in the library if ye have any more questions.”
“We will?” I straightened so fast, my bones cracked.
“Yes, we will. I’m an old lady. I’ve had a harrowing morning, and I want a cup of tea.”
_____
We entered the library as the sun was peeking over the horizon, its light gilding the loch with streaks of liquid gold. I wandered to the window while Morna called the kitchen with instructions to deliver a breakfast tray to the library.
“My dad swears he saw Nessie last night,” I said when she’d hung up.
“He’s not the first; he won’t be the last.”
“He said she had lovely eyes for a monster.”
Her expression was unreadable. “Did he take a photograph?”
“He tried, but it didn’t come out. Technical difficulties.”
“I never say this too loudly, Mrs. Miceli,” she said as she joined me at the window, “but … it’s all a myth.”
I reeled backward, as if I’d just been sucker-punched. No Nessie? “But—”
“My family has operated an inn on this spot fer over four hundred years. If a sea creature lived in the loch, don’t ye think we would have seen it by now?”
I was hit with the same wrenching disappointment I’d felt when Victoria’s Secret announced the discontinuation of their Click Miracle bras. “But—”
“It’s because of the tourist dollars.” She glanced out the window, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the blinding light that reflected off the loch. “Without Nessie, our local economy would take a tumble ta pre-Nessie days. Do ye have any idea whit that would mean?”
I could take a wild guess. “Goodbye boomtown, hello Greece?”
“Worse.”
My jaw dropped. “Worse than Greece?” Wow. I didn’t think that was possible.
“Ye should talk ta the pensioners in the area. Before the Nessie craze, we couldn’t give camera film away. Now we charge a thousand percent markup on four gigabyte memory cards, and everyone’s clamoring fer them. Do ye know how much revenue we can earn by raising our profit margins on photographic accessories alone?”
“But … my dad saw something last night. He’s a practical, no-nonsense, salt of the earth conservative who believes in less government and more tax cuts. He could never be mistaken for someone with a functioning imagination. So if he didn’t see Nessie, what did he see?”
“It’s a myth, Mrs. Miceli. If he claims he saw Nessie, I would encourage him ta spread the word ta the rest of yer tour group. And then perhaps ye would direct them ta the hotel’s gift shop, where we’re currently running a shoppers’ special on six gigabyte memory cards … and bottled beverages.”
A rattling clink of china drew our attention to the door, where a kilted waiter bounded into the room balancing an oversized breakfast tray above one shoulder. “I hope we’ve not kept ye waiting too long, Mrs. Dalrymple.” He set the tray on the library table, removed a cover from a plate of morning pastries, tidied the linens, then nodded his satisfaction. “Enjoy.”
Morna Dalrymple swept her hand toward the table. “Would ye pour, Mrs. Miceli? My hands aren’t as steady as I’d like.”
While I poured tea, Morna circled around me, pausing in front of Isobel’s abandoned metal box. “Wheesht. Manky thing. I don’t know where it came from, but it belongs somewhere other than my library.”
“It came from a tree trunk in Braemar,” I said as she removed it from the table.
“Is it yers?” She shook it, raising a clatter like pebbles in a tin cup.
“It