“A pleasure,” he said, shaking her hand and looking into her face. She was of the right height to match the lass Sallie and the others had described; her hair was right as well. But she seemed heavier than their description, a bulky, loose-knit sweater camouflaging what he imagined was a fullish top.

A sweater that hid a bullet-proof vest?

He wasn’t merely paranoid but delusional, he thought to himself.

“You’re a schoolteacher?” said Gorrie, taking a cup from his wife.

“Oh yes. In the States. I was just telling your wife, we’re on vacation. Holiday, I think you would say.”

“You’ve seen Loch Ness, I expect.”

“Of course—but no monster, I’m sorry to say.” Miss Plower rattled off a full itinerary. She had been to the ruins of Fortrose Cathedral, Chanory Point, Fair Glen (though the cherry trees were dormant), and two dozen other local highlights.

A lot of time in Inverness, Gorrie thought. And a lot of visiting in the area where Cameron was found.

“Have you tried our pubs?” he asked.

“Doesn’t drink,” said Nan, with a hint that perhaps others might take the example.

“A visit to Scotland without stopping in a pub?”

“I expect I’ll visit one soon,” answered Miss Plower. “Your wife said you were a detective.”

“An inspector, yes.”

“You must have interesting cases.”

“The odd sort, now and again.”

She smiled. Gorrie noticed that her bag wasn’t nearby—Nan would have put it in the closet straightaway.

If she had a gun, she’d have it there, he thought. And if she was a killer, she would have a gun.

A simple thing to make an excuse, get up, and check.

“Frank has been with the police twenty-five years,” said Nan. “Tell her the story of the boat rescue. That’s a favorite.”

“Wasn’t much.”

“A boat rescue on land,” Nan told Miss Powers. “Some wee lads were havin’ a bit of fun—”

“I saw some police up on the highway near Rosmarkie yesterday afternoon,” said Miss Powers. “Must have been an accident.”

“Wouldn’t know,” said Gorrie. “Traffic constables, I expect.”

The American sipped her tea.

“She’s heard about that business on Eriskay,” said Nan.

“Terrible,” said the American.

“Oh, yes.”

“Jealous wife? That’s what the paper said.”

Gorrie got up. “I’ve forgotten to put out the garbage. Let me take care of that before it slips my mind again.”

“Frank,” hissed his wife. “The garbage now? Manners,” she added in a stage whisper.

He ignored her, walking quickly to the closet. He reached inside, past his jacket, looking toward the floor for the American’s bag.

“Now, Inspector, do you think I would be so foolish as to leave my weapon in the bag?” said the American behind him. “Back out now, with the pocketbook please, and keep your hands high. Stay where you are, Nan.”