Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy

How important could it be if Stevenson had left it on the bed? Or had he? Could he have tucked it in the sheet for safe keeping? But then that would mean he was worried someone was after it? Also, Madge said he had checked out. Had he accidentally left the key behind?

I took my notebook out of my day backpack and added notes about the old key to the ones I had jotted down since finding the dead guy. Most of what I had pointed to things Scottish; Ian Macgregor, Scottish and well-known cover model; Robert Louis Stevenson, famous author and Scottish as well; dead guy using the name of the famous author, also Scottish; and one that just came to me—Max Macgregor original owner of Willow Lake Lodge—Scottish.

That was a connection I couldn’t ignore and made me think that somehow this murder was somehow linked to Ian. A thought that did not make me happy, though it did make me determined to discover who killed the dead guy. I had to find out for my own sanity. I couldn’t have a neighbor who might be a murderer or a boyfriend who went around killing people.

Boyfriend?

What was I thinking? Who even had a boyfriend these days? You were either in a relationship or you weren’t. And I was not in a relationship with Ian Macgregor.

A tap on my window had me jumping sky high and my heart pounding. I was relieved to see it was my dad. I rolled down the truck window.

“What are you doing sitting here, Pepper?” he asked, though didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Your brother has passed by you twice while on call and radioed me that he was worried something might be wrong with you.”

“More likely he was nosy as to what I was doing,” I said and reached over to grab the old key before stepping out of the truck. I held it out to my dad. “Madge called and asked me to give this to you. She found it when she was getting ready to wash the sheets that had been on the dead guy’s bed,” —I held up my hand when I saw him ready to argue— “Madge called me because she had called your office and Claire didn’t take the time to listen to her about the key. She thought she was talking about keys that Madge had lost and told her that she’d let you know.”

My dad shook his head. “Claire is too quick to surmise instead of listen. You were sitting here snapping pictures of the key.”

I smiled. “You know me well.”

“I suppose no one bothered to think of possible fingerprints,” my dad said.

“Not likely. Madge and Ben’s are probably all over them and now mine as well.”

My dad took the key from me, and I felt a strange sense of loss, almost as if I was somehow familiar with the key and didn’t want to part with it.

“It looks old,” he said, giving it a quick glance.

I figured now was a good time to find out what else he might have learned. “No luck in finding the car or anything else about the dead guy?”

“Nothing yet and you know I can’t tell you anything even if I do.”

“Yet you expect me to share anything I find.”

“I do and let me know when you come up with a theory on this one.”

I smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You know you’re my superhero, right?”

“Always,” he said with a smile.

It was something I thought my dad needed to hear at the moment, since it was a way of reminding him how much I loved him and always would. And it was his way of letting me know he would always be there for me.

“Tell me you’re going home so I don’t worry about you getting into things you shouldn’t.”

“I’m headed home. Work calls.”

“Good,” he said.

“Oh,” I said as he turned to walk away. “Ian is coming over tonight around eight. He says he has some ideas on the murder and thought we could bounce some ideas off each other.”

I was surprised when my dad grinned. “Ian already called me and told me. He seems to be a man of his word.” His stern Dad face returned. “Be careful, you never know.”

“I have Mo,” I reminded him, impressed that Ian had kept his word to my dad.

“Useless dog,” my dad said, walking away shaking his head. “Call me when he leaves, if anything of interest pops up.”

“Will do,” I said and took off for home.

I got home and immediately got busy on my book Prepping for the Doubting Thomas. It explains how prepping even in the smallest way can prove beneficial. I had been a Doubting Thomas once and just a few small prepping steps would have helped me tremendously when it came time for me to evacuate my home. I looked forward to writing this book.