A Job From Hell (Ancient Legends #1)

puffed all the way to the van and
opened the passenger door to let me in. I jumped on the wide passenger seat and
fastened the seatbelt. Harry squeezed his large body behind the steering wheel
and started the engine. The car spluttered to life. Harry pulled out of the
driveway before he resumed our conversation. “Greta always says a bit of
exercise will do me good. But I say all this walking’s of no help if I don’t
cut back on the beef.”
    I didn’t want to point out that we weren’t
walking but driving. “You couldn’t pay me to give up beef. I just try and watch
my portions.”
    Harry laughed, gaze fixed on the road. “It’s
a short drive to Inverness. The streets are usually empty after ten o’clock but
before ten it’s hell.”
    “Do you drive to town often?” I inquired.
    Harry snorted. “Often enough. I’m taking
care of two houses since Aidan’s hardly ever home, always busy with his work.
Every day, there’s something for me to mend. Old houses aren’t so different
from old people, they constantly need a doctor.” He laughed. When I joined in,
he continued, “Last week it was my rheumatism, this week it’s my spine and next
week it might be the grave.”
    I peered at him, horrified. “Don’t say that.”
    “I’m telling you, my dear mother was as
healthy as a horse. One day, she felt poorly and wouldn’t get out of bed. A
stroke, said the doctor. She spent a week in the hospital before she closed her
eyes and never woke up again.”
    “I’m so sorry.” I leaned in to squeeze his
hand resting on the steering wheel.
    “Well, that’s life. Enjoy it while you’re
young. You never know what you might miss if you lock yourself up like Aidan.”
    So Aidan liked to stay indoors. Funny, I
hadn’t seen him all week. “What does—” I hesitated saying his name “—Aidan
do?”
    Harry shook his head. “Something with
buying and selling, I think.”
    We drove for nearly two hours with Harry
talking most of the time. Eventually, he pulled the car into a parking lot in
the middle of Inverness and killed the engine.
    “See the corner over there? That’s High
Street with all the trendy shops. I’ll be at the pub.” He pointed at a green
building with a sign outside advertising a pint for a pound and Karaoke night.
    “Thanks.” I felt embarrassed for wasting the
old man’s time, particularly since I didn’t really need anything from the
stores. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
    “You’re doing me a favor, dear.” Harry
winked and slapped my shoulder lightly. “Greta would never let me waste a
perfect Saturday morning sitting in the pub, unless I came up with a good
excuse for having a pint of beer at this time of the day.”
    “I’ll be back in an hour, then.”
    “No need to hurry. Take your time,” Harry
said.
    “Thanks.” I stepped onto the grey asphalt,
overwhelmed by something I couldn’t pinpoint. I swallowed hard, trying to calm
down my racing heart at the outlook of adding my rising paranoia to my money
worries. “I’ll be back in two hours,” I called after Harry as he crossed the
street, heading for the pub on the other side of the road.

 
    ***

 
    When I returned, laden with countless
shopping bags, Harry waved from across the street through a crowd of people. I
waited until he reached me and unlocked the car.
    “Did you find everything you came for?” He
grabbed my bags and tossed them on the backseat.
    “I wish I didn’t.” I held up a clutch,
ignoring the guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I got this for half the
price. The sales here are great.”
    “Pretty.” Harry nodded appreciatively and
locked the car. “You girls always find something. You must be famished. What do
you say to lunch? My treat.”
    My stomach rumbled in response. “Sounds
great. Thank you.”
    From outside, the pub looked deserted. Inside,
most seats were occupied. A high shelf with various wine and beer bottles lined
the wall behind the bar. The walls were covered in mirrors and posters
advertising various drinks. Harry guided me to an empty table near the kitchen
and handed me the menu. “This place has the finest beef and mash in town.
Almost as good as my Greta’s.”
    Someone yelled, “Ye already back, Harry? Or dinna ye find the way out?” The man’s Scottish accent
was so strong, I barely understood a word, but I smiled. Harry waved to a table
across the room, then turned back to me.
    A redhead in her forties approached, hands
pressed