A Poisoning at the Pageant: The Highland Horse Whisperer Mysteries, #3

By R.B. Marshall

Meeting your boyfriend's mother is stressful enough without murder taking centre stage

When Izzy Paterson—horse trainer, coffee-holic and computer geek—attends a medieval pageant, everyone performs brilliantly—until the star of the show, a Mary Queen of Scots re-enactor, drops dead.

 

With her boyfriend's mother, Violet MacDonald, cast as the prime suspect, the police think they've silenced the critics and aren't auditioning anyone else for the part of villain. It's up to Izzy to investigate, shining a spotlight on the many suspects so she can bring the killer front and centre, and prove the police wrong.

 

Can Izzy solve the mystery before the final curtain drops and it's 'lights-out' for Mrs MacDonald?

>> Find out in A Poisoning at the Pageant, a clever cozy mystery with a relatable sleuth, set in a small town brimming with eccentric characters in the beautiful Scottish countryside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aye Alba Publishing
• Release date: Apr 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215573099

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Late June, 2018

Someone was winding me up. They had to be. Can you say that again?

Yes, Ms Paterson, on the fourteenth of July we’d like you to provide a horse for Mary Queen of Scots.

That was what I thought they’d said. But— Isn’t she dead? I was bad at history, but not that bad that someone could fool me so easily.

Oh, my apologies, I should have clarified. It’s for the Mary Queen of Scots festival that’s running in Kinross in the middle of July. An actress will be playing Mary; that’s who we need the horse for. We heard you had one of the Queen’s—the current queen, Queen Elizabeth’s—stallions, and we thought that would be a nice way to tie the two monarchs together.

I do. We do. I tried to wrap my brain around the concept. I’d been horse trainer at Glengowrie Stud in the Scottish Highlands for a few months now, but so far, nobody had asked me to do something as strange as this. Well, he’s ours now, me and my boss, Lady Letham, I explained. But he used to belong to the Queen. What would you expect of him?

Just carry our re-enactor while she parades around the showground with her entourage.

I sat down at the large oak table in the middle of the tack room, surrounded by the saddles and bridles that were the tools of my trade, and visualised Eagle carrying someone with a big dress. He’d look gorgeous—he always did—but he might not take kindly to how it felt. I’d need to do some acclimatisation with him.

We’d pay, of course, the voice added. For your time, and the hire of the horse. And it might lead to more work of this type. Historic Scotland run events most summers, and there’s film and TV work to be had locally.

I remembered seeing on social media that Outlander was filming in Fife, and looking for extras who could ride. Trinity had tried to get me to go along, but I’d told her we were too busy with horses to train. Really, I was just too shy.

But the man was right. Perhaps events and film work would be a wee sideline for us, I’d have to think about it. And talk to Lady Letham. Eagle was half hers, after all, so I couldn’t decide without consulting her. Okay, leave it with me and I’ll check with his co-owner. We’ll let you know.

I found Lady Letham in her orangery tending her orchids. Built onto the side of the Glengowrie House, it was like a mini-jungle in there, with a woody, humid, slightly mouldy smell and the faint tinkling of water somewhere in the background.

My boss—wearing her usual eccentric mix of garish patterns, tweed and cashmere—had a pair of fine pruning shears in her hand and appeared to be snipping at some of the plants. Dead-heading them, perhaps. Gardening wasn’t something I knew much about.

Why, of course! she exclaimed when I told her about the Mary Queen of Scots festival. "I would be so thrilled to see Eagle at such an event. It would be just perfect for a handsome boy like him with his royal connections. And, Isobel, my dear, did you know that my late husband was a distant descendant of Queen Mary? So, of course, I shall attend to represent the family. The real family, not the actors."

That was something I hadn’t realised. So not only was my boss good friends with royalty, her family was descended from them too. Maybe I should be curtsying in her presence? Then I dismissed the thought. Lady L had always been fairly approachable and had no obvious airs and graces. Great. I’ll let you know the details once I find out more.

With a nod and a wave of her shears, she leaned over her plants again. Then her hands stilled and her chin raised. While I remember, dear Izzy—

Uh-oh. I wondered what she was about to spring on me. Hopefully not something that would end up with me being a murder suspect at Balmoral Castle, like the first time she’d asked me for a favour.

I wondered if you could do a little something for me. I’m sure it won’t take much of your time.

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. In my early career when I’d worked in a corporate setting, a phrase like that usually meant that the ‘little something’ would take forever.

You know I’m involved in The Rural? Lady L continued. Then she noticed my blank look. It used to be called the Scottish Women’s Rural Institute, now known as the SWI. But everyone still calls it ‘The Rural’.

Ah. Yes, I remember.

Well, we wondered if you would be so kind as to come and give us a little talk about your horse training methods. It needn’t be too long.

Phew. I could probably manage five minutes.

Perhaps just a half hour.

Yikes!

Or forty minutes. That part of the meeting usually lasts an hour, so that would leave us twenty minutes for questions.

I blinked at her. I really don’t think I could find enough to talk about—

Of course she will! I was interrupted by Trinity, my colleague and housemate, who had walked in through the open door, and must’ve overheard some of our conversation. As usual, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt above sensible boots, her hair in a messy pixie cut and her brown eyes sparkling.

Trinity waved a hand back towards the stables. You could do some case studies, talk about the different horses you’ve trained and the successes you’ve had. Maybe show ’em some photos. I’ll help if you want. Might get you some new clients, she finished, with a wink.

Exactly my thoughts, agreed Lady Letham. I know that you are quite busy at the present time, but it never hurts to have a waiting list, does it?

Feeling cornered, I looked from one to the other. Public speaking was something I didn’t enjoy. In fact, I didn’t really enjoy anything where I was the centre of attention—unless I was on the back of a horse, that is.

In the saddle, dressed in my show gear and riding an animal I loved, I had all the confidence in the world. I could ride down the centre line of a dressage test with ranks of spectators watching and it was like they weren’t there. My world became just me and the horse, and the movements we had to perform.

But put me on my own in front of an audience, and it was a different matter. I, um—

You’ll be great, Trinity interrupted me again.

I’m just not used to speaking in front of people.

In my experience, Lady Letham steepled her fingers, one gets better at public speaking the more one does it. Practice makes perfect, as they say.

Anyway, I came to get you, Trinity put a hand on my arm, to say Mrs McDade has turned up, wanting to see Darcy. I thought you’d be the best one to give her an update on how he’s doing.

Oh. Okay. I don’t remember her saying she was coming?

Trinity wrinkled her nose. Think she mentioned it last time she were ’ere.

I wracked my brain. Somewhere, deep in a dark, dusty nook, there was a vague memory of Francine muttering something about Thursday. Did I not write it in the diary?

You might well’ve done. But when did you last look at it?

She had a point there. I’d need to be a bit more organised. I used to be more of a planner, back when I was in London. But obviously the genteel pace of life in Glengowrie had affected me in more ways than one.

Lady L waved us away. Please, ladies, go and look after things at the stables. I shall let the committee know that they can rely on Isobel to do a talk in the near future. She glanced at me over the top of her glasses. And I shall enter Eagle’s date with Mary Queen of Scots into my diary.

What a great opportunity, the women’s institute talk, Trinity said as we hurried back to the stable yard. It’ll get your name known in the area.

But standing up in front of all those strange women—it scares me. I hate being in those sorts of situations.

You need to have more confidence in yourself, girl. You’ll be great.

I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say. You must’ve been born confident."

Not really. She stopped and put her hands on her hips, facing me. Y’know, it was actually horses what helped. I were bullied at school, picked on for being small. And then someone got me to the Grass Roots Horse Club in Camberwell, where I lived, and I learned to look after horses, and to ride, and… I suppose I just came out of meself. Horses gave me confidence. And the bullying stopped.

Frowning, I tilted my head. But you don’t ride now. Why is that? I’d wondered why she didn’t ride, but she never talked about it and I hadn’t liked to ask. Until now.

She grimaced. After I were finished at school, I went off to work at a racing yard in Newmarket. And they put me on this nutter who… long story short, I had a bad fall, got a fractured vertebrae and a broken ankle. If the weather’s bad it still gives me gyp.

Oh, wow, I didn’t realise. But you don’t look lame?

I’m good at hiding it. A smile creased her face. That were one of the reasons I got into dancing—for therapy, to strengthen me muscles after the fall. And then I ended up teaching it. The rest, as they say, is history.

We started walking again. Indeed. That’s a shame about the riding, though. You’re so good with the horses. D’you think you’d ever get back into it?

Too scared, if I’m honest. I couldn’t stomach being out of action again. It’d kill me.

I looked at her sideways, wondering if I was about to push things too far. "So, if I’m going to have to face my fears and do public speaking with your help, how about I try to help you face yours and we get you back on board again?"

Yeah, but there’s a fatal flaw in your argument.

My eyebrows asked the question.

"We’s a training yard. For horses with problems. Not exactly the quietest beasts in the area."

Leo’s pretty safe.

An’ about two feet too tall for me.

What about Eagle, then? I’m going to be putting this Mary Queen of Scots actress on him, he’s so well behaved. And he’s smaller than Leo.

She threw up another road block. But ain’t he here because he killed a man a few weeks ago?

That wasn’t his fault. He was frightened by a snake. This was beginning to feel like an argument I wouldn’t win. And we’d arrived back at the stable yard. Look, I’d better speak to Francine. And then I’m going to get Eagle used to having someone with a long dress on his back. We can talk about it later, okay?

Yes, boss, she threw over her shoulder as she disappeared into a stable to avoid Francine, who was bearing down on me at a rate of knots with a determined look on her face.

Give me strength, I thought, and pinned on the most people-friendly smile this introvert could muster.

CHAPTER TWO

Francine, it transpired, had a long list of shows she wanted Darcy to attend in the next months. She was hoping to get him qualified for the Horse of the Year Show in October, and then Olympia in December.

My heart sank. But those are in England.

From the other side of the table in the tack room, she looked at me over the top of her lilac-framed reading glasses like I was an imbecile. Yes. We’ll take our lorry. It has luxury living, as you know, so you’ll be perfectly cozy. The colonel and I will stay in a hotel. So you could even bring a friend.

The colonel?

Colonel Roberts. He was a great comfort to me after Pat died. And we just… she waved her fingers airily. You know.

I tried not to let my face show my thoughts. Francine McDade must be one of those women who couldn’t go through life without a man at her side. When I’d first met her, just a handful of weeks ago, she’d been married to Pat, the owner of the local agricultural feed stores, and was also having an affair with Jason, the younger guy who was riding Darcy, her horse.

When both of