Competition Can Be Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

just give this a little re-warm,” she said after feeling the side of the teapot. “Be right back.”
    I browsed the room now that I was alone. The soft green wallpaper was silk and it perfectly matched the fabric on the chairs that showed just a genteel bit of wear. Bright persimmon pillows picked up the same shade in an Oriental carpet. Family photos covered one table top, modern pictures of the Dunbars and their offspring, some posed and some casual. A windowsill displayed a grouping of porcelain figurines, one of which I recognized as Chinese and very old. The others were traditional English figures and I assumed they were also antiques.
    “There, this should hit the spot,” Sarah said, bustling back in with the tea.
    As quickly as she’d reheated the pot, I had to assume that even ancient castles had microwave ovens in the modern age. She glanced up at the door.
    “So, what was that you were saying about missing lambs?” she asked as Robert entered the room.
    “Rrrr,” he growled. “Two more. From the same flock as before. Don’t get me started—I’m angry as hell about this.”
    “Here, have your tea,” Sarah soothed, offering him a cup which she’d poured and laced with milk and sugar.
    He took it and eased back into one of the overstuffed chairs.
    “What do you think has happened to the missing lambs?” I asked, not catching Sarah’s warning glance in time.
    “Same damn thing.” The growl was back in his voice. “Stolen.”
    “Now, Robert, you don’t know that for a fact,” Sarah said quietly.
    “I bloody well do!” He glanced at me. “Excuse my language.”
    I waved it off.
    “That young bloke . . . whatever his name is. You know bloody well that he’d love to increase his own flock. And he’s made no secret that he thinks I’m part of the problem with price controls on wool. I wasn’t one of the MSPs who voted that in, you know.”
    Ian Brodie, I thought, remembering the snatch of conversation I’d overheard at the store this morning. I almost opened my mouth, but didn’t.
    “Always griping about the cost of feed, cost of medicine for the sheep. Damned ingrate doesn’t even appreciate that I’m giving him the lowest lease rates around for pasture.”
    “We’re not the lowest,” Sarah murmured, not very loudly. “And your position in Parliament certainly doesn’t make you anti-farmer. He’s just spouting off, I’m sure.”
    “And that attitude of his, like we owe him something because we’ve got it all and he has nothing. Huh. Man has no idea what a struggle it is to keep a place like this afloat. Trade places with me, he wouldn’t last a month.” He paused to take a sip of his tea.
    “Enough of this,” Sarah declared. “Let’s get to know Charlie. Robert, she’s the first female helicopter pilot I’ve ever met.”
    “Is that so?” he replied. “Are you really? Guess I thought your husband was the pilot.”
    “Well, he is. He taught me to fly and we share the duties.” I explained briefly that we’d come to help Brian Swinney while his mother was ill. “Drake has had some fascinating experiences during his career. I think you’d enjoy meeting him.”
    “And is this what you do at home, too? New Mexico, did someone tell me?”
    “Actually, back home I’m a partner in a private investigation firm. With my brother, Ron. I help Drake out in his own helicopter business there, but just on a limited basis.”
    “Investigator, eh?” Robert picked up on that tidbit right away. “Well, maybe you can find these lambs for me.”
    I chuckled at the thought. “Believe me, I wouldn’t know one lamb from another and watching me try to catch one would probably be a spectacle worth selling tickets to.”
    “Ah, a little extra cash flow.” He laughed, a deep, rich sound.
    I finished my tea and told them I better be on my way. Sarah reminded me to take the clan book with me, and Robert offered to walk me to the door.
    “We’ll plan dinner sometime soon. You’ve