Page 62 of Death on a Scottish Train

“Moving here was one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself.”

“I’ve been so stuck in Edinburgh. Maybe I should make a move.”

“You’re the only one who can make that decision. I will say, it isn’t such a bad thing to shake up your life every once in a while.”

“You might be right about that. Thank you again for your help. I’m exhausted. I think I’ll head back to the B&B.”

I nodded, and then went in search of my friends.

They were all coming off the merry-go-round.

I smiled when they came through the gate onto the fairway.

“Did you have fun?”

They were all laughing.

“We did. Tommy tried to tell us that the ride was only for small children,” Mara said. “He thought it was too much of a kiddie thing for adults to do. We showed him how wrong he was.”

“I still like the Graviton better and the Ferris Wheel,” Tommy said before putting his headphones back on.

We laughed again.

Everyone was tired, so we headed to the shuttle to take us back down the mountain.

After speaking with Donald Jacks’s sister, I didn’t think she had anything to do with his murder. It was more a feeling than anything to do with evidence.

But someone had wanted him dead. And it could have been his business partner, the executive assistant or one of their angry clients.

The problem was, which one was responsible for his death?

Chapter Sixteen

While I’d come up with the idea for s’mores at the bonfire the next night, I hadn’t volunteered to help out. But I was curious about what they called The Burning Ritual. The event had been around for more than 800 years in Sea Isle.

I had read a book from the library about how it was believed to have been started by the pagans, who used fire to bring on the new harvest.

In Sea Isle, they liked to keep their traditions, no matter what religious background they might have. But The Burning Ritual had turned into a way for people to write down their regrets or things they wanted to remove from their lives. Then they tossed them into a fire. They used a special flash paper that burned cleanly, so it wasn’t harmful for the environment.

I headed down to the pier that evening to see how it all worked.

There were several smaller fires on the beaches where people were making s’mores and doing their own form of the ritual.

At the pier, well, beside it, a huge bonfire had been built below. I took the stairs down to the sandy beach where everyone had gathered.

There were several writing stations set up around the huge fire. People with baskets would gather the folded notes they were given, and then toss them into the fire.

The crowd would say, “hurrah,” every time a basket full of paper was tossed.

While I’d let go of most of my regrets long ago, there was one part of my life I was ready to say goodbye to. I’d dealt with the betrayal of my former husband through therapy, but I didn’t think it would hurt to say one last goodbye.

I wrote down:I forgive you and myself. For so long, I’d felt dumb for being fooled by him. But we all make mistakes, and often trusted without question those we loved. But I was finished with that feeling. I folded my note and tossed it in the basket when it came around.

Not long after, the papers were tossed in the fire, and I joined in on the hurrah. Strangely, I did feel lighter. Maybe, there was something to this burning ritual.

A text beeped on my phone, and I pulled it out.

On the beach in front of the pub. Come get s’mores. Mara had texted.I have news.