Page 52 of Death on a Scottish Train

She waved a hand. “Oh, he’s fine. But he wanted to speak to you about growing a vegetable garden in the greenhouse. He says he will use his own money, but he wants to give it a try.”

“He will not,” I said.

Her head snapped back like I’d slapped her.

“Use his own money,” I said quickly. “I’d love to have fresh veggies. I think it is a great idea. But I’ll only agree if I can pay for it.”

She laughed as she put a hand on her chest. “Oh, that is a relief. Not about the money, just that he can do it. He will not stop talking about this book we checked out at the library about growing organic fruit and vegetables. He wants to ask you himself, but I thought I would give you a heads up, as you like to say.”

“I’m happy to talk to him about it.” They were family as far as I was concerned. Whatever made them happy was fine with me.

It wasn’t long before my first patient arrived.

Almost every conversation started with, “That poor man you found at the train station …” or “I know Ewan won’t let you say anything …”

I’d smile and nod. “Ongoing investigation,” I’d add. Of course, that didn’t stop the questions or the various summations of what might have happened. Nobody had any real information to add.

That was until my last patient of the day.

Todd was an Englishman, who had moved to Sea Isle a decade ago to raise Highland cows. He often said it was his calling. He’d been a dentist before that.

“This is Horace, our wee addition to the family,” he said as he showed me a picture on the phone. The baby cow was furry and adorable. He shared the photos like a proud father. I didn’t mind because the fuzzy cows were gorgeous.

“He’s so cute,” I said.

“Aye. His mum is the one who gave me this.” He pointed to his foot, which was still in a cast. “She’s a good girl, though. She didn’t mean it. My foot was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I smiled. He spoke about his cows like most people did about their dogs.

“Well, we’ll take another X-ray to check, but hopefully we can get that cast off today. Though, I have a boot for you to wear for a few more weeks. It will help your foot to further heal. Promise me you’ll wear it. We want those bones to continue to mend. Is your son Angus still helping you?”

“He’s a good lad. He’s been working hard on the farm since he graduated university. He’s helping with the books, and he even set up social media for the herd. I never thought strangers would be so interested in a bunch of cows, but they are. He tells me they are up to seventy-five thousand followers.”

I chuckled. “Well, they are very cute cows,” I said.

“They are. He’s working on merchandise now. Says we need stuffed animal replicas. If it helps support the business, like he says, I’m all for it.”

“He sounds brilliant.”

“Aye, we are proud of him.”

“Heard you were investigating Donald Jacks’s death. Terrible business. Do you know how he died?”

“Oh, did he keep your books for the farm?” I asked avoiding his question.

“For a time. But he kept trying to get me to invest in various schemes. He was a pushy sort. As I said, when Angus came home from university, he offered to take over the books, and I let him.”

“When was that?”

“Beginning of summer,” he said. “Jacks was furious and wasn’t particularly kind when we made the change. He was a disagreeable sort. Did someone try to kill him? I only ask because I heard some rumors in the pub that he was murdered.” He held up his hands. “Aye, I know it’s an ongoing case, but I’m just curious. If he acted like he did with us to his other clients, I could see someone wanting to cause him harm.”

“Oh?”

“He wasn’t happy about us pulling our business. Said some unkind things to me and Angus. Made me angry, and I told him I’d be telling everyone I knew to pull their accounts from him.”

“What did he say to that?” I asked.

“Threatened to take us to court,” he said. “And he was serious. Said he’d sue if we besmirched his name. Those were the words he used.”