Page 50 of Death on a Scottish Train

“Thanks,” he said. “We have to think which customers might have been close enough to know about his lip balm habit, and how they would have had the proximity to use the venom.”

“Right. But I think it is worth taking a look. The problem is—none of them have actual names.”

“Our expert can trace the emails, so that won’t be an issue.”

I had figured as much. Ewan was right about the proximity, but from what others had said, he used the balm all the time.

One thing dawned on me, and I made a mental note to check. While Scottish weather was harsh on the skin, why was Jacks always using the balms?

I needed to know if he had a medical condition that may have caused the dryness.

My phone dinged with an alarm. I only had an hour before I had to start seeing patients. “I need to go,” I said. “I have a full schedule this afternoon.”

“I’ll have Henry run you down,” Ewan said. He took the laptop from me and put it one of the file boxes. “Thank you for your help. Oh, can you write down the password?”

I found a sticky note in the desk and wrote it down. Then I handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

“You’re welcome. Will you let me know if you find out anything else?”

“Yes,” he said.

We’d come a long way when it came to trust. I used to have to pry information out of him, but now, more or less, he considered me a colleague. I didn’t get the automatic response everyone else did about it being an ongoing case.

As I was walking out of the building with Henry, Angie and her grandfather were going into the accountants’ office.

Her eyes went wide when she saw me. “What are you doing here? Do you use this firm?” She asked.

I shook my head. “They are part of the investigation of the murder I was telling you about yesterday on the boat.”

“Oh. Ohhhh. I dinnae make the connection.” She turned to look at her grandfather. “One of the partners is the fellow who died at the station.”

Her grandfather shook his head. “Poor fellow.”

“What are you two doing here?” I asked. It came out a bit harsher than I meant. “Are you clients?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Now that Damian’s business matters are more or less settled, we were thinking about making a move to Sea Isle. Well, at least buy a weekend place so I’m not always having to bunk with grandad.”

“I told you I don’t mind,” her grandfather said. They owned a tartan shop that sold all kinds of tartans, kilts, macs, and other outerwear. They had shops all over Scotland, and Angie was in charge of thebusiness. She might have pink hair, but there was a wicked clever brain in that head of hers.

She crooked her arm in his. “I know. Anyway, I thought I might check out an accounting firm here to help keep an eye on the business.”

Something must have flashed over my face, because she frowned.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the firm?”

“Uh.” I was at a loss for words. “I really need to get down the mountain. I have patients to see.”

She let go of her grandfather. “You go on inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He seemed confused but she opened the door for him.

Angie grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down the block a bit.

“I need you to tell me what is going on. Is there something I should know?”

“I will get in trouble if I say anything,” I said. “You know how Ewan is. But as you can see the firm is under investigation.”