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Shizzle. I had no time to think about what a complete moron Serena was. Martin must’ve written that note-or forced Helen to do so. And where was Royce? I needed to find a cop and get to St. Margaret’s Chapel now.
“Yoo-hoo!”
I whipped around and saw my mother waving at me from the hotel entry. She was carrying several shopping bags, and Dad followed behind with several of his own. Robin trailed them both, wearing a new plaid beret and a tired grin.
I turned back. “Look, Serena, thanks for telling me about Helen. I’ve got to go.”
Her face was a mask of tragedy. “I hope she’s not in any trouble.”
“Right, me too. See you later.” I ran across the lobby to meet my parents.
“Mom, hi,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got to-”
“We went crazy!” Mom said as she dropped all the bags on the carpet, then opened one up and whipped out a bright red Royal Stewart plaid skirt. “Matching kilts for your father and me! Kilt, jacket, sporran, shoes, socks, sash, the whole enchilada.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, momentarily stu
“I think the whole thing’s a gas,” he said, always up for a challenge.
“We’ll have everyone wearing kilts within six months,” Mom predicted.
“Right on.” Dad gri
“I can’t right now,” I said. “I need to go to St. Margaret’s Chapel up at the castle.”
“You’re going to church?” Dad asked, baffled.
“No, it’s a… a meeting, up at the castle, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave right now.”
“Let’s all go,” Mom said merrily.
I started to protest. “That’s probably not-”
“Groovy,” Dad said, ignoring me. “We’ll leave everything with the bellman.”
I sent Robin a pleading look. “Will you come, too?”
“More the merrier,” she said, then added more quietly, “What’s going on?”
“Looks like we’re going to church.”
As we walked quickly up Castle Hill toward the ancient fortress, I thought it might be just as well that my family was along for the ride. There was safety in numbers, after all.
I pulled Robin close. “Do you have Angus’s phone number?”
“Yeah, should I call him?”
“I left him a message and another two for Derek, but I’d feel better if you tried Angus again.”
“What’s going on, Brooklyn?”
I pulled the note from my pocket. “Got this from Helen.”
She read it and frowned. “Weird. Did she call the police?”
“That’s what I wondered. It might be a trap, or Helen might be in trouble.” I turned and saw Mom and Dad straggling half a block behind us. “Maybe we can drop them off somewhere and you and I can head over to the chapel.”
“Good idea. Your mom might like to see the doggy cemetery.”
“Perfect.”
She pulled out her cell and got hold of Angus immediately. Hmm, guess she had his personal number.
After explaining the note to Angus, Robin held the phone away from her ear and looked at me. We could both hear him yelling. After a few seconds, she brought the phone back to her ear. “We appreciate your concern, Angus. So I guess we’ll see you soon. Okay. Bye-bye.”
He was still yelling as she disco
“Good.” I was glad to know not only that Angus would be there, but also that I was not the only one being lectured to lately.
Since it was teatime, there weren’t many tourists wandering around. The air had turned bitterly cold, and the Scottish cadets walking the perimeter had to be shivering in their sporrans. Gray clouds huddled just overhead, and the drone of the wind across the stones sounded mournful.
We crossed the wide esplanade, passed the elegant bronze statues of Robert the Bruce and William Wallace, and walked briskly through the gatehouse. After paying the entry fees, we hurried through the Portcullis Gate and turned to face the treacherously steep and curving Lang Stairs that would lead to the Upper Ward and St. Margaret’s.
“These may be too much for you to climb,” I said.
“It’s good exercise,” Mom said.
“Yeah, let’s go,” said Dad.
We didn’t speak as our boots scuffed against the rough stone stairs. To take my mind off what I might find at St. Margaret’s, I counted steps and finally hit seventy. I knew now why they were called the Lang Stairs, as lang was the old Scots word for long. I’d made it to the top but hardly in triumph. I had to grip my stomach as I bent over, huffing and puffing and wheezing like an asthmatic smoker.
I was somewhat relieved to see Robin and my parents do the same, although Mom and Dad recovered quickly. What was up with that? Maybe there was something to all those purging and cleansing tonics they swilled.
Once we’d caught our breaths, I led Mom and Dad past St. Margaret’s Chapel on the left, to the low wall that looked out over the lower levels of the castle and much of the New Town. I pointed out the lovingly tended pet cemetery on a small plot of lush green land that covered a lower terrace twenty feet below where we stood. Small headstones lined the curved wall, with colorful flowers planted alongside them.
“This is where the faithful companions of the castle’s commanders are given their final resting places,” Robin said softly, sounding just like the tour guide she was.
“How wonderful,” Mom said, leaning both elbows on the thick parapet. “I want to read every miniature tombstone.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ve got a meeting in that little chapel right over there.” I pointed to the small, ancient stone building just across the wide walkway.
“Oh, it’s as small as a dollhouse,” Mom said.
“Have fun,” said Dad.
I started to walk away, then turned to face my parents. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back here in ten minutes.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
“You don’t want them coming in the chapel?” Robin said.
“No way.” When I realized Robin had followed me across to the chapel, I turned and glared at her. “What are you doing? You need to stay with them.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, her boots scuffing against the cobbled walkway. “They’ll be fine, while you, on the other hand, scare the shit out of me.”
St. Margaret’s Chapel, the most ancient of all the buildings on the castle grounds, was covered in rough stone that masked the pristine jewel within. I remembered from my last visit that the chapel nave was minuscule, barely ten feet across and maybe fifteen feet in length, with a deep, wide archway that separated the nave from the tiny vaulted altar area.
“Aren’t you going inside?” Robin asked.
“In a minute,” I said, sca
From where we stood at the railing outside the door leading into the chapel, the view was spectacular. We could see the entire city and surrounding hills from this point at the top of the castle grounds. White clouds scudded across a sky so blue it might’ve been a Boucher painting.
“Wow, it’s beautiful up here,” she remarked.
A scream pierced the air.
I raced up the ramp, yanked the chapel door open and stepped inside.