When Old Fires Ignite

The dead man on her doorstep: a premonition or an angel?

A car burns just around the bend from Dachaigh. Is it a plot to destroy the inn or exterminate every trace of the body within?

For Detective Inspector Callan Cameron, it’s a brilliant example of a murder with the victim as hidden in the shadows as the suspects.

Amateur sleuth Aileen Mackinnon vows to crack this case. Was the man a fraudster or a damaged soul looking for salvation?

Smoke and mirrors lead them down a path to jail, fraud and fatal car crashes.

Is this the end of Aileen and Callan or a promise of something new?

Aileen’s eyes clashed with his. ‘Well?’ She read his thoughts. Callan guessed his face displayed it all. ‘You can’t mean—’
‘There’s no one else.’
‘But – but that’s not even the car he drove. He rented out a two-seater because he came here alone. You saw the surveillance footage.’
Callan folded into a chair opposite hers. ‘Who else can it be if it isn’t a guest? Why would a car loiter in that lay-by so close to the inn otherwise? Unless, unless…’ Unless it’s something got to do with you.
‘You think it’s about the inn? Macalister didn’t know anyone here. He didn’t wish me any harm.’
‘I know what you’re going through financially.’
‘Are you stalking me now? Am I a suspect?’ Her words smarted like a whip.
He ran a hand over his face. ‘No, darling – you left the rejection letter on the kitchen counter.’
Aileen’s eyes met his, and he saw it, the hostility. ‘I wouldn’t, Callan. I would never kill someone and try to burn the place down for insurance money.’
He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. ‘I thought you believed me.’
Damn it! Talk about assuming the worst.
‘I never thought ye’d deliberately kill someone. But I wanted to ken if someone’s put in a bid for this place.’
‘And I killed them for revenge?’ She pushed off the table. ‘Get out.’
‘Aileen.’
‘Get out! Men, the lot of you, are such, such imbeciles. Why would I kill anyone to protect a life I’ve already lost? Why would I…’
Callan watched her – really observed her. Her hair was pressed flat on her head; the hat she’d worn lay discarded on the table. Her face was a deep red and her eyes – her eyes were the sole windows to her. And they looked panicked, scared.
Aileen Mackinnon was terrified.
He moved towards her when before he’d have run away from the tears lining her eyes. But in the past few months, he’d realised one thing: Aileen never ran away from the people who mattered to her. And now she needed help.
If he drew away, he’d rip them apart, tear Aileen apart.
Callan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. ‘I’ve got ye, darling.’
Her hands flew to his chest and grabbed onto his shirt until Callan swore he heard something rip.
‘I-I’m sorry.’
‘Ye shouldn’t be.’ He should’ve spoken to her sooner; offered help. As she sobbed into his chest, Callan realised what this meant.
If she had no money to stay here, Dachaigh would be gone, sold off to the highest bidder. And without Dachaigh, what kept Aileen here? Siobhan, her gran, was away at the nursing home. And Loch Fuar didn’t need any forensic accountants.
Aileen would have to pack her bags, leave him behind.
He tugged her closer so not even air passed between them. If he crushed her, she didn’t complain. She snuggled closer still.
‘We’ll figure something out. We’ll—’
‘You don’t understand. If Dachaigh had burned down the other day, I’d’ve lost everything. Then this absurd offer. Why would Macalister want to involve me? I barely know him.’
Callan led Aileen to the dining table and sat her on a chair. ‘Ye said the will mentioned yer issue.’
Aileen’s reddened eyes cut through him. Callan focused on her words. ‘He stayed here and saw I had no guests. It’s easy to conclude the inn’s struggling.’
Callan shook his head. ‘It’s the month after Christmas, downtime for most lodging businesses. He knew. Ken Macalister knew ye were struggling. Did ye tell anyone?’
‘And risk them mentioning anything to Gran?’
‘I’ll run him, see if anything pops. Maybe we can go meet your bank manager—’
‘No. I’ll handle that.’
Callan took her hand in his. ‘This is not the time to be stubborn. Besides, I want to ask him if anyone’s eyeing the property.’
Aileen opened her mouth to shout another retort.
‘I’m not blaming ye, Aileen. What I’m trying to imply is this is an extensive property. Not just yer inn, but the estate around it. It’s all yours, or yer gran’s. If that fire had spread, it would’ve burned the estate, the inn… caused a lot of damage. It would’ve driven ye out of business.’
Her eyes sparkled then. This time, she didn’t direct the fury at him. ‘And if the fire looked like arson, the insurance company would deny paying the claim, saying I burned it because of my financial troubles.’
Callan flinched at the phrase. ‘Aye, ye’d have to surrender the place.’ Callan huffed. ‘This is just a theory until we confirm it. But first I need to ken about Ken Macalister and how he relates to ye.’