Page 41 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

“Always. Minerva?” She called out.

“Coming,” Minerva said from the back room.

“Oh, Doctor, how are you?” Minerva’s heavy Scottish brogue was sometimes difficult to understand, but I was getting better at it.

“I’m good, thanks. You’re looking lovely in that jumper.” Her sweater was covered in pumpkins, and her skirt matched.

She patted her hair. “Thank you, luv. I made it. What did you need, Lulu?”

“Grab the two dresses I held back for Emilia. The emerald one and the black one with the lace.”

“I—uh.” I didn’t want to take the time to try on clothes. But sometimes Lulu didn’t understand the word no.

“It will only take a minute, love. You look so pretty in green. I know you’ll love that one.”

While she wrapped the presents, Minerva came out with the two dresses. They were both gorgeous. And she was right. I was drawn to the green one.

“They are beautiful,” I said.

“Try on the green one, quick as you can be,” Lulu said. There was no use arguing and I really wanted to try it on.

A few minutes later, I walked out to check it out in the big mirror in the back. It had long sheer sleeves and a flared skirt. The tea length with a belted waist, which was perfect.

“Fine. Add it to my bill.”

“I have some matching shoes being shipped in tomorrow. So come back. Just happened to order some in your size.”

I laughed. “It’s like you know me, Lulu.”

“I know what my clients like,” she said. “I made that one, by the way. Though the embellishing was done by Margie. She helped with the belt and the cuffs. My eyes are too old for that kind of work.”

I smiled. “There’s nothing old about you,” I said.

“You know that isn’t true better than most,” she replied and then gave me a wink. “Now, while we finish up, can you tell us about the Duncans?”

The women stared at me expectantly.

“I’m afraid the Constable would have my head. And to be honest, per usual, the investigation is ongoing.”

“Feathers,” Lulu said. “Angie said you wouldn’t spill. I’ve been texting her all day. She said she didn’t know either.”

“She doesn’t. We’re still running a lot of tests, and that’s more than I should say.”

“Well, it’s a sad business,” Minerva said. “Leaving a wife and poor wee one. And the other one worked on the rigs. Heard that in the pub. And it’s all the demons running around this time of year. The veil is thin and all sorts of awful things pop through. We shouldn’t be surprised evil is among us.” She sounded so dramatic.

“Oh, I have the perfect ribbon for the wee one’s gift.” She toddled off to the back room, as if she hadn’t been speaking about Dante’s seventh ring before.

“Don’t mind her,” Lulu said. “She fancies herself part witch-part fairy. Who knows, she might be. Does seem to have a magic touch when it comes to our clients and the clothing she makes. I hope to be like her when I grow up.”

Minerva was well into her sixties.

I bit down on my lip to keep from smiling.

A few minutes later, I was on my way with a new dress and gifts for Flora and Elsie. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mara.

Boys from the rig are here. They don’t seem happy.

Might want to listen in.