Page 97 of Death at a Scottish Halloween

“About that,” I said.

“I was stupid, but I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

“Right. I’m still ordering a psych eval. You need help, Baird. Your best friend died, any of us would need to talk to someone after that.”

He closed his eyes. “You don’t understand,” he said. “It’s all my fault.” Then he coughed. I helped him to sit up.

“Your throat is sore,” I said. “Whatever you need to say, you can tell me later.”

He shook his head. “No. I need you to explain it to them. You examined him. You have to know I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Wait. What?

“You killed him?” The words came out a whisper.

“No. I mean, I was there. But he—”

“He couldn’t have stabbed himself. It’s impossible.”

“I held the knife. I thought it was a fake. I mean, it was heavy. But he handed it to me. I thought he was being dramatic. He was good at that.”

“Start from the beginning,” I insisted.

“I went to get Isobel’s scarf. He was there, painting something on the canvas. He said, ‘I know.’ I had no idea what hewas talking about. Then he turned and picked up the knife. ‘You might as well stab me in the heart. You’re supposed to be my best friend. I’ve risked my job and my life for you.’ Again, I had no idea what he meant.”

He sipped on the ice chips. His voice was hoarse now, no more than a whisper.

“Then he handed me the knife. ‘Take it. You might as well kill me. I’ll never let you be with my sister.’ And there it was. I thought I’d been so careful, but I’ve been in love with Isobel from the day we were introduced. But you have to know, I never pursued it. I hadn’t planned to because her brother was my friend. There’s a code.

“I told him that. ‘Liar,’ he said. Then he rushed me, like he wanted to attack and tripped on the drop cloth we had on the floor. I was still holding the knife. It all happened so fast he pushed himself onto it with his full weight. His last words were, ‘It’s real.’ We both thought it was a fake knife. I don’t even know where he found it. We didn’t have anything like it in our room at the haunted house. I didn’t know what to do. He was just dead. I sat him in the chair.

“Isobel would never forgive me. It was the only thing going through my mind. I just left. The blood on my shirt looked like paint. I put my jacket on, and no one knew. I have a bunch of the same ones, and that’s what I brought for you to test.” He started to weep then. “I just left him there alone, but it was an accident. No one will ever believe me, but it was.”

I cleared my throat. “I believe you. Leaving him wasn’t a great idea, but we don’t always think clearly during high-stress situations. But you’ve wasted a great deal of the police’s time looking for a killer.”

“I’m ready to take whatever comes my way.”

“I will ask you again. Did you try to kill yourself last night?” I would insist Ewan keep him under observation.

“Not intentionally. I drank too much. Then I had a headache. I took some pills. I don’t know how many. I just wanted the pain to stop.”

Definitely needed a psych eval. That would mean a transfer to Edinburgh, and Ewan would have to sort out the rest.

“Pills and whiskey are not the answer,” I said. I held up my hands. “No judgments, but there are people who care about you. And it matters that you are here.”

Sometimes that was all people needed to hear.

“I really didn’t try to kill myself. I was just stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Right. So you need to tell the Constable and Isobel what happened. I’ll be here to support you. But it’s time for the truth to come out. Isobel and Duncan deserve that.”

He nodded.

“Did you have anything to do with the other Duncan?”

He appeared perplexed. “The man with the wife and daughter? No. I’d never seen him before.”

Well, one mystery solved, and I was grateful for the confession. Poor Isobel was in for another upset. And why had Duncan taken our knife? Maybe to do exactly what he had, to threaten Baird.