She moved back from the door, blushing, as if she had failed in her duty because she hadn’t thought to ask him for a message. He smiled at her. “It won’t take long.”

He walked past her, and she turned to a small table under the window, producing a sheaf of paper from the single drawer. It was church stationery. Rummaging, she came up with a pen as well, smiling in triumph as she handed it to him. She was almost childlike in her pleasure.

Rutledge scribbled on a sheet, I came to call this morning but must leave town for a day. If you have time when I return, I’d like to ask you a few questions. He signed his last name.

Folding the sheet, he handed it to her. Then he said, “Do you know Alistair McKinstry very well?”

“Know him?” She looked frightened.

“Does he attend services at the kirk? Is he a kind man?”

Relieved that Rutledge wanted only general information and had in no way suggested that she might be a particular friend of the constable’s, she answered shyly, “Yes, indeed, he attends regularly. And I think he’s kind. He’s always kind to me.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is.” He walked to the door. It was time for the question that had really brought him to the rectory. “When you were cared for in your illness by Miss MacCallum and her niece, do you remember a rather pretty cairngorm brooch that Fiona was fond of wearing?”

She frowned, thinking. “I don’t recall Fiona wearing a brooch. She never even wore her wedding ring. It hung on a chain around her neck, where she couldn’t lose it. I saw it sometimes when she bent down to settle the pillows or bathe my face.”

“But not the brooch.”

Trying hard to please him, she said earnestly, “But Miss MacCallum had a lovely brooch! There was a pearl in the center. She let me wear it—for courage—when I came to the rectory to be interviewed by Mr. Elliot.”

“Did it help?” he asked, unwilling to cut short her brief burst of enthusiasm. She was pretty when her face was lit from within. Fragile and pretty.

But it was the wrong question. Her face fell. “Mr. Elliot recognized it and made me take it off. He said it was unbecoming to ape one’s betters.”

Hamish swore. Rutledge felt a strong urge to throttle Elliot. It was, he thought, an intentional cruelty. “Did you tell Miss MacCallum what he’d said?”

“Oh, no!” she said, horrified. “I couldn’t! I was too embarrassed. I said only that he was very kind.”

As she had just told him that Constable McKinstry was very kind.