Bonnie of Evidence - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,90

me. We stared at each other. I grabbed her shoulders. “Oh, my God! They’re running away to get married!”

I burst into Bean’s office. “We think we know where they’re heading.”

“Would ye hold, please?” Bean clapped his hand over the phone. “Where?”

“Gretna Green.”

“Why?”

“To get married.”

“Why would they travel all the way ta the Scottish border ta do that when they could be married by a justice of the peace in Wick?”

I stared at him as if he had two heads. “Because Gretna Green would be more romantic, of course.”

“Romantic.” He rolled his eyes. “Mrs. Miceli, we’re not going ta know anything fer sure until we initiate the tracking process.”

“But—”

“Please, Mrs. Miceli.” He returned to his call. “I’m sorry. Whit were ye saying?”

I stepped out of the office and closed the door behind me, shrugging at Etienne and Nana. “He doesn’t quite understand the romance angle.”

“I got a bad feelin’ about this, dear. What happens if Erik breaks up their plans? What happens if Lucille’s left all by herself someplace? She don’t got the street smarts like what Bernice’s got. What’ll she do?”

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip and threw Etienne a pleading look.

“I know what you’re thinking, bella. We’re responsible for her welfare, and yes, we should be there for her if she needs us, but we’re facing an impossibly challenging transportation problem. We have to make up the twelve-hour lead they have on us. So how do you propose we arrive at Gretna Green before them?”

“Well, would you lookit that?” marveled Nana as she pressed her face closer to the map. “An airport.”

_____

During England’s Regency period, the blacksmith shop at Gretna Green had probably been an isolated stone building surrounded by pastureland and sheep. Two centuries later, it was a whitewashed stone building surrounded by a mini shopping center that touted souvenirs, food court, historical museum, and token piper.

We were blending into the crowd at the outdoor food court by huddling around a table, eating ice cream cones. The blacksmith shop with its marriage room was about twenty-five feet away, located amid a tasteful backdrop of greenery and circular stone fountains. A bagpiper in full regimental dress commanded the attention of an audience nearby, a plate sitting near his feet to collect donations from appreciative onlookers.

“If and when they arrive, do not allow your emotions to get the better of you,” Etienne instructed us. “You will calmly escort Lucille and Cameron into the blacksmith shop, and if Erik shows up, I’ll be the one in charge of handling him. Agreed?”

I gave him a thumbs up. Nana nodded as she shoved the last of her sugar cone into her mouth. The piper’s audience burst into applause as he finished the last strains of “Amazing Grace.”

“Mi hance ur schicty,” Nana mumbled, touching her fingertips together to show us how sticky they were. She pointed to the sign for the toilet and stood up. “Be wight back.”

My stomach twisted into knots as I scanned the tourists milling around the property. I hung my head and groaned. “How much longer, do you think? The waiting is killing me.”

“If this is where they were heading, and they didn’t miss any connections, they should be here momentarily. If not …”

I slumped against the table and hung my head lower.

“Emily.”

“Just give me a minute. I’m feeling the need for a brief pity-party.”

He gently squeezed my forearm. “They’re here.”

“What?” I jerked my head up.

There they were. On the far edge of the bagpiper’s audience, listening to him begin his next tune. They were snuggled cozily against each other, hand-in-hand, smiles lighting their faces, Lucille looking happier than she’d looked in years.

Aw, that was so sweet.

“Are you ready, bella?”

We cut across the food court at a brisk pace. “I just thought of something,” I said to Etienne as we approached them from behind. “Since we’re already here, maybe they’ll ask us to be witnesses at their wedding.”

I sidled a glance at the street to find Erik Ishmael stepping out of a taxi. “Oh, my God.” I grabbed Etienne’s arm. “He’s here.”

“Don’t panic. Just follow the plan.”

As the air rang out with the slightly off-key drone of a lively march, Etienne detoured down the walkway to the taxi while I marched up beside Lucille. “Hi, there.”

Lucille startled as she gaped at me in disbelief. “Emily?” Her mouth worked soundlessly. Her eyes looked about to fly out of their sockets. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.”

“What?” said Cameron.

“No time to explain. But if you’d follow me into the blacksmith’s