as warmly as the first time. She was magnificent in a bright turquoise tunic with a low neckline, worn over an ankle-length black skirt. A beautiful necklace of turquoise and silver glimmered against her dark skin. Her steel-gray hair was swept up in a fluffy pouffe on her head. And dangling earrings matching the necklace hung in her ears. Donna was a very feminine woman.
“And what have you done about my tall, stylish policeman?” she asked and winked at Irene.
“The only one I know who’s going to retire soon is my boss. He isn’t particularly tall or stylish,” Irene apologized.
“But is he somewhat healthy?” Donna said, and her voice sounded sincerely interested.
“Not really. . . .”
“Send him here anyway. At my age, you can’t be too picky,” Donna laughed.
A distinguished man at the bar turned around and looked at Donna. The look told Irene that Donna could still afford to be somewhat choosy.
Glen arrived a few minutes later. They ordered before beginning to talk, vodka martinis as a starter drink, and then both chose crayfish soup and grilled lamb kebabs with salsa and potato wedges. Irene asked for a half carafe of red wine, Glen, a large beer.
“Naturally, my boss went crazy when I told him that Andrew St. Clair had popped up in the investigation. Bosses get cold feet as soon as big fish are involved. But he understood that it has to be followed up, so he called St. Clair. Or rather his secretary. St. Clair is busy with foreign businessmen all morning tomorrow, but he could meet with us after lunch. My boss gave his secretary my cell number, but neither she nor St. Clair has gotten in touch with me yet. You and I are booked on the morning plane to Edinburgh. We’ll have to head back to Heathrow at five in the afternoon. Then you’ll make the evening flight back to Göteborg.”
Something clicked when she thought about what he had just said.
“Have you checked if St. Clair flew from Edinburgh to London?”
“Yes. He wasn’t booked on any flights. He may have traveled by car.”
Chapter 18
THEY LANDED AT EDINBURGH International Airport, west of the city. Because they had a few hours left before they were going to meet St. Clair, they stopped to grab a bite to eat there. Warm croissants and coffee tasted heavenly after the Spartan airplane breakfast.
They had barely been seated when Glen’s telephone started ringing. The conversation was short but very polite. When he had hung up, he said, “That was St. Clair’s secretary. We’re very welcome for lunch at one o’clock.”
“Where?”
“At his home, Rosslyn Castle.”
“He lives in a castle?”
“Of course.”
He smiled. With a pompous air, he took a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and cleared his throat as if he were about to make a speech.
“Kate has helped me do some research. We have several books at home about Scotland’s history and the Scottish clans. She wrote down the relevant information, but I’ve only had time to glance at the paper. I didn’t want to read it on the plane in case we might be spied on. We’re to use the greatest possible discretion, the boss said several times yesterday.”
He took a big bite out of his croissant and washed it down with coffee, squinting at the paper as he read it. After a while, he said, “The St. Clair family can trace its ancestors back to the fourteen hundreds. They are descended from the great Earl of Orkney and Sir William St. Clair. The earl built the castle and Sir William built a famous church. The family still owns large areas of land in the Pentland Hills. Andrew’s father, George, had a head for business and invested in the Scottish oil industry from its incipience. Earlier, they made their fortunes from the wool and tweed trades.”
“Have they been weaving their own plaids since the fourteen hundreds?” Irene asked.
“This tradition, that each clan has a special tartan, is said to be genuine. But actually it was a weaver from Lancashire who popularized the idea in the eighteen hundreds. Distinguished ladies sat in their drawing rooms and chose a pattern, which they named after their family. Probably they had to place a large order to obtain exclusivity. The whole world has gone along with it!”
Irene smiled but felt disappointed. Like most, she had thought the Scots had fought for freedom wearing their clan plaids like in the movie Braveheart. But one of the soldiers in that film had actually been