When Murder Comes Home

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Adventurous, that’s what the past week had felt like.

Isla, as she’d insisted Aileen call her, had been serious about the entire town pitching in to help. That same evening she’d sent her nephew, the lad who’d greeted Aileen in the bakery, along with his friends to lend a hand.

Before their arrival, Aileen had made a detailed list of what needed to be fixed. She shuddered even thinking about it.

The lads had helped her clean the guest bedrooms and dispose of the soiled bedsheets.

So appalled at the condition of the inn was she that the first thing Aileen disposed of – even before the stinky food – was the snooty innkeeper.

However, her happiness at ridding Dachaigh of its former innkeeper was short-lived. Even if she was as friendly as a jail guard, she’d at least known a thing or two about running an inn.

You are an accountant, Aileen reminded herself for the thousandth time that week. She could take inventory and figure out the expenditures that ate into profits, but running an inn?

Aileen sighed ruefully at her self-doubt.

Wasn’t this precisely why she’d left her former life behind? She chided herself – it was time to be spontaneous and courageous. The new Aileen didn’t second-guess herself. No, she was a confident woman who embraced spontaneity.

More determined than ever, Aileen clambered down the wooden stairs into the disastrous reception area – and took an involuntary step back.

Somehow the tall, muscled figure of Detective Inspector Callan Cameron in ripped jeans and workman’s boots suited the unruly plastic-covered reception area.

‘Dachaigh was very different the last time I came down here,’ the detective observed with a judgemental frown.

Callan remembered making a stop at Dachaigh when he’d first returned to Loch Fuar. The grandmotherly Siobhan had embraced him and cooked a warm, sumptuous meal as a welcome back gift.

It was her spirit that had kept this place going over the years, and this was more evident than ever given the way Dachaigh was falling apart.

He’d only heard the rumours after Siobhan had left for the nursing home – everyone had gossiped about how the innkeeper was more like the gatekeeper to Hell.

It was a good thing that Aileen had fired her, though Siobhan’s granddaughter seemed more lost than in control of the situation.

Callan studied the pitiful state of the inn and then the figure of Aileen Mackinnon, trying to hold in a snort – she looked like a sleep-deprived corpse in denim overalls.

Isla had subtly hinted every time he’d gone to get his morning coffee about the inn needing a hand for repairs. She’d also deliberately let it slip how Aileen was working tirelessly to get the place up and running before spring had finished blooming. Her interfering intention had been to sneak a date for her new city friend.

Callan dismissed those comments for what they were – pesky interference. But he was intrigued enough to drop in and maybe get a rise out of the prim and proper Aileen Mackinnon.

‘How may I help you?’ Aileen asked as politely as she could. The last thing she needed was an assessment by the police–Detective Cameron in particular.

She couldn’t put a finger on why, but he irked her – enough to make her forget about her self-doubts and personable manners.

Callan made a show of assessing the plastic covers before pinning her with his intense gaze. ‘Ye know, most people wouldn’t travel to a small town in one of the coldest regions of the Highlands to run a dilapidated inn.’

Aileen raised one shoulder with an air of superiority but filled with hollow confidence. ‘Well I did and Dachaigh wouldn’t be like you see it now – it’ll be the best it’s ever been.’

‘That’s saying something! Everyone here thinks Siobhan ran it best.’

Aileen folded her hands across her chest. ‘You haven’t seen my way yet.’

The detective circled his forefinger. ‘Isla has faith in ye. She’s sent me here to ask if ye need help fixing the leaks. I have a few friends willing to help this weekend.’

‘Nah, I’ve got it covered.’ Aileen couldn’t possibly acknowledge that she hadn’t a clue what to do about the leaks. Especially to this man who was waiting for her to make a mistake or worse fail – badly.

What a snob! Hadn’t he just enunciated his thoughts about her: a city girl who knew not a thing about town life? Well, the joke’s on him, Aileen thought: she learned well and learned quickly.

Maybe spending summers in a town was different from residing in one as an adult and innkeeper.

Stepping inside the handyman’s shop had been a mistake.

The brawny yet friendly man behind the cash register had asked Aileen what she needed to fix her inn.

‘We haven’t got our stock of the claw hammer yet. I can send it over to the inn if ye like,’ he informed her.

Aileen had no clue what a claw hammer did or what it was used for. She’d checked a YouTube video or two on fixing a leaking ceiling. They said she needed a drill, but the inn didn’t have any sort of equipment on hand, hence this fateful trip.

Aileen blushed a little. Only that morning she’d climbed onto the ladder and poked the sagging ceiling with a long screwdriver, the only one left in the supply closet. At least that’s what the internet had told her to do. Damn the internet!

No one specified that the entire thing might collapse on her head, leaving an evil hole in the ceiling! She’d been completely drenched!

Hadn’t it been sheer luck the water was from a fresh-water pipe? The last thing Aileen wanted was to stink like a dunghill, and even though the reception area of the inn was flooded… She’d fix it.

Aileen cleared her throat and approached the man. His smile reached his kind eyes. So she dared. ‘Er, um, you see I need some minor help with the leaks,’ she began as bravely as she could.

‘Och, worry not! Isla told me about it! Isla’s my wife. She told me ye’d be down here soon.’

‘Okay.’ If Isla knew, her miserable failure would soon be the talk of the town. Aileen cringed at the thought. With embarrassment flushing her cheeks, she stared at the ground.

Adventurous! she tried to boost herself.

‘My partner’ll be along anytime now. Maybe I can come down and assess it for ye?’

Aileen looked at her clenched hands. ‘That would be helpful.’

‘Ah, Miss Mackinnon, this is a mess, I tell ye.’

She didn’t say a word.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get the troops assembled and at work by tomorrow morning. It’ll be fine in a week or two…’

At least Mr Daniel McIntyre wasn’t a snob. He wanted to help.

True to his word, he had driven down with a bunch of men, armed with tools and equipment to set her roof to rights, as well as the plumbing and the reception area’s ceiling.

Isla joined her husband most days. She kept Aileen company, talking nineteen to a dozen.

‘When I came over from Stirling, I didn’t have a clue what to do with a broken light! That’s how I met Daniel.’

She began helping Aileen clear out the soiled food cans.

‘Oh, didn’t Callan visit you? I had asked him to. He’s handy with a hammer – helps Daniel out sometimes.’

That meant he’d find out about her situation earlier than Aileen had calculated. She winced. He’d surely gloat for a while. But mistakes were stepping stones to success, she reassured herself.

‘Um, I wasn’t sure he’d know. He’s a detective, not a—’

‘Aye, not to worry – between them, the inn’ll be as shiny as new before you know it!’

And thus days continued into weeks.

As nature bloomed with spring, Dachaigh came into itself.

Daniel’s team – Callan included on the weekends – repaired jammed windows, leaking pipes, chipped tiles, worn wallpaper, peeled paint and fixed the creaky furniture.

Apart from the cost of materials, all Daniel had asked in payment was a daily lunch for him and his men for the duration of their work at the inn. That was one thing Aileen could do very well – she was a decent cook and an amateur baker.

Isla helped and joked about, her larger-than-life personality lighting up Aileen’s lonely days.

She told Aileen it was her cooking that brought so many helpful hands to Dachaigh, and it was true that everyone had complimented her on her cooking – everyone except Detective Cameron. He was being nasty, Aileen decided. Even if he helped Daniel out and laughed with the others, he had an aloof air about him.

In just over a month, a new website announced that the Dachaigh Inn at Loch Fuar was open to guests once more, waxing lyrical about the incredible views from the inn’s rooms: tall snow-clad peaks, green grasslands, and the shimmering blue Loch Fuar in the background kissed with a breeze as refreshing as melodies of birdsong.

A week after that, Aileen had her first ten customers booked. They’d all be here in the last week of April.

Fantastic!

The new Adventurous Aileen couldn’t wait!