• Crime Writers of Canada Whodunit Award for Best Traditional Mystery, finalist

Inheriting the Skipper's House from her late aunt Deirdre MacPhail, a famed Scottish writer, looks like the solution to all Elspeth Laird's financial problems—but this inheritance comes with a dark legacy. New to Sulla Island's wild beauty and fierce weather, Elspeth soon discovers a community divided by her aunt's memory. Some cherish the tourism Deirdre brought, while others blame her for ruining their traditional way of life. Practical jokes escalate to sinister threats, and a murder confirms Elspeth's worst fears: a killer is among them. With tensions rising and allies scarce, Elspeth must navigate a web of secrets and old grudges. As legend says, the Skipper's House brings doom to its owners. Elspeth must unravel the truth before she becomes the next victim of Sulla Island's deadly legacy.

It was beginning to rain by the time she reached the Skipper's House. That walk along the beach was not going to happen. Drops of water blown by the wind stung her face as she secured the big gate. The dog peed quickly then ran for the shelter of the house.

Elspeth retrieved the groceries and her new boots. She fumbled for the key to the door with one hand and opened it.

She noticed the smell as soon as she walked into the kitchen. It was rotten and fishy. She dropped the boots inside the door and laid the bag of groceries on the table. The dog was at the sink, sniffing.

In it lay a large, dead, stinking fish. It was long enough to almost fill the sink. Its eyes were filmed over, its fins were tattered, the skin torn, exposing raw flesh and entrails. Elspeth almost threw up at the stench.

She went to the pantry to look for rubber gloves but all she found was a box of garbage bags. She stuck her hand inside one of them and gingerly lifted the fish by the tail, then dropped it inside another black bag, tied it tight, opened the back door and threw it out into what was rapidly becoming a deluge. She would decide what to do with it later. She needed to think about this.

Had someone managed to get into the house while she was gone, so they could leave this disgusting mess as some kind of gruesome present? Did that person have a key or could they have climbed in through a window? She went to check the one above the sink. It had two framed panes of glass, top and bottom, that latched together and it was unlocked. Had it been like that when she left the house? She had never opened it but she had never looked to see if it was fastened. She walked through the house and checked all the other windows. They were all firmly latched.

She went back to the kitchen window for a closer look. The lock was circular. You turned the catch to lock it and it was loose. It might be possible to slide it around from outside, if you used a thin blade. To find out if that was possible, she would have to venture outside again. Among the coats hanging near the front door was a yellow raincoat with a hood, too big for her but waterproof. She put it on and stuffed her feet into her new boots. Then she searched through the dresser drawers and found a thin kitchen knife.

The rain teemed down, the sea had disappeared into a mass of cloud but Elspeth could hear waves crashing onto the rocks down at the pier. Wilma made it as far as the door and chose to remain inside. The plastic bag with the dead fish in it lay near the gate. Elspeth threw it further away, out onto the grass. She didn't want the smelly thing anywhere near her. She stumbled to the window through the pouring rain and pushed the blade up between the window frames to nudge the lock. Water ran up inside her sleeve but it didn't take much effort to slide it open.

She made her way back inside, kicked off the boots and shook out the raincoat, then sat down at the table. The dog padded to her side and snuggled against her leg. She rubbed the small brown ears, feeling comforted, still shaken by what she had found. Overhead, rain drummed against the slate roof.

She could call the police station, but what would she report? That someone had broken into the house and left a dead fish? She didn't even know if they had climbed in. She looked to see if it was possible to drop the carcase into the sink from the window. It was.

She didn't think she had been robbed. Her laptop lay on the table beside her, untouched, so that wasn't the motive. This looked like it had been done to scare her. To send her a message. To tell her that she didn't belong, that she wasn't welcome here.