Competition Can Be Murder Read Free Page B

counter, but she seemed busy stacking boxes of shortbread and didn’t indicate that she’d paid the men any attention.
    I’d gathered a small basket of grocery items—some cans of soup, fresh fruit and salad makings—and took them to the counter.
    “Umbrellas?” I asked.
    “Oh, in the gift shop,” the woman told me. “Just pick one up. You can pay for it in here with your other things.”
    I spotted a display spinner and pulled two umbrellas from it.
    “Guess we didn’t come very well prepared,” I commented to her.
    “Staying long?”
    “A couple of months. I’m sure I’ll become a regular in here over the next few weeks.”
    “Aye, well you’ll need these, then.” She finished totaling my groceries and told me what I owed.
    As I was struggling to remember the denominations of the strange-looking coins, she spoke again. “You the couple who’s renting out at Dunworthy? Those pilots?”
    Beauty of a small town. You never have to introduce yourself. I grinned at her. “Yes, we’re the ones.”
    “Amanda Douglas,” she said. “Think you got some mail here.”
    “Mail?” I couldn’t imagine what we’d be receiving so soon.
    Amanda stepped through a doorway that led to the third section of the small building, the post office.
    “Yeah, here you go,” she announced, bringing a small parcel with her. “Looks like it’s from New Mexico, USA.”
    I looked at the return address. The box was from Elsa Higgins, my surrogate grandmother and neighbor who was watching Rusty for us during our stay in Scotland. What on earth could she be sending? Probably some little item I’d forgotten, something she thought I couldn’t live without.
    Amanda was watching me with frank curiosity.
    “Let’s see what she sent,” I suggested.
    A pair of scissors appeared like magic from below the counter and Amanda watched as I opened them and used one blade to slit the tape on the package. Beneath a cushion of crumpled newspaper sat six small cans of Hatch green chile. I couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled out of me.
    “Whatever . . .?” Amanda was examining one of the cans, her face screwed up in puzzlement.
    “It’s hard to explain,” I chuckled. “Guess she knew Drake and I wouldn’t last long without a chile fix.”
    She set the can back into the box with the others.
    “It’s a Southwestern thing, I guess. Kind of like, if you went to live in the U.S. for awhile and couldn’t find haggis.”
    “Ah . . ..” She nodded in complete agreement. “Like that.”

Chapter 4

    The sky had lightened considerably now that I owned two umbrellas, and by the time I got back to the cottage there were patches of blue showing. I puttered around, organizing our few belongings and rearranging a couple of pieces of furniture in the living room until it was more to my liking. I spent the afternoon exploring the tiny garden that surrounded our little home and getting some exercise walking through the forest.
    After a quick shower, I donned a pair of slacks and cashmere sweater, hoping the outfit would be casual enough for afternoon tea and dressy enough for my first visit to a real castle. I envisioned the lady of the manor wearing a Chanel suit and pearls, tasteful black pumps and little button earrings.
    I arrived promptly at four, guiding my rented Vector down a storybook lane flanked by rows of trees whose trunks were close to four feet in diameter and whose branches had become so entwined with time that the overhead canopy was nearly solid. I emerged into an open area and spotted two other vehicles—a brand new Land Rover and a fifty-year-old Bentley—sitting to the side of a circular drive. I pulled to the side, staying a respectful distance from the Land Rover.
    The castle itself towered five stories above me, a tasteful gray stone edifice with turrets pasted to its sides in seemingly random fashion. Wings extended from either side of the central structure, and archways led to unseen courtyards and other