Dressed to Kilt by Hannah Reed

didn’t sleep well and so decided tae start bakin’ earlier. I have a key tae get in tae the shop, ye see, so it doesn’t matter what time I get there as long as I finish before it opens.”
    â€œI suspect that she’s been hit over the head with the fire poker,” the inspector added. “She musta startled the intruder.”
    Ginny nodded. “I couldn’t wake her, and called an ambulance. She has tae be all right, she just has tae.”
    The inspector and I exchanged glances. Mine was questioning, wanting to inquire into Katie’s prognosis, but reluctant to do so in front of her friend. His return look showed real concern.
    â€œIn the end, your actions might be responsible for saving her life,” I told Gayle, sure she would grasp for any straws of reassurance to exonerate her from the heavy burden of blame.
    â€œAnd how do ye see that?” she asked, and I could see the hope in her eyes.
    â€œBy getting there when you did,” I said, punting. “If you had stayed at the baker the usual length of time instead of going home early and calling for prompt medical attention, it might have been too late by the time help arrived.”
    Gayle hadn’t considered that. I could tell it had a positive impact. “I might have heard something when I came in,” she said, speaking hesitantly, “now that I’m thinking back on it.”
    â€œGo on,” the inspector said, pressing her in the calm professional tone I’d come to recognize and recently found myself imitating. “Anything you can remember is useful.”
    â€œAt the rear o’ the house. I mighta heard a sound, like the back door closing.” She thought hard while we waited, then shook her head. “But I can’t be sure.”
    â€œWas anything taken?” I asked, thinking perhaps it was a robbery gone wrong. The thief could have been familiar with Gayle’s morning routine and expected an easy in and out, not anticipating a guest staying at the house.
    â€œI rushed tae hospital, not stayin’ tae check my belongings,” she answered. “My personal effects don’t matter at all in the scheme o’ things. But I do vaguely remember seein’ the telly where it usually is. It’s an old thing. Nothing struck me as out o’ place except the poker. Besides, I don’t have much in the way o’ valuables.”
    â€œWhat do the doctors say about her condition?” I asked, looking from Katie’s friend to the inspector.
    â€œThey aren’t sayin’ other than they are doin’ scans and such,” Gayle answered. “And will speak further with the family once they arrive.”
    â€œI couldn’t get more out o’ them, either,” the inspector offered.
    Not surprising. From my experience dealing with doctors when my mother was gravely ill with MS, they don’t like to express any opinion one way or the other unless they’re forced to do so by a persistent family member. And then only if pinned right up against the wall. The medical world is more gray than black or white. Anything is possible.
    â€œI’ve notified her family,” Inspector Jamieson told us.“They’ll be here as soon as possible. They live in one o’ the villages a ways out, although the roads are goin’ tae be icy and snow covered. That will slow them down a bit.”
    â€œI’ll be back as soon as I can,” Gayle said. “I want tae get a few o’ Katie’s things fer her.”
    â€œWe’ll leave ye tae yer task then,” the inspector said to her.
    Gayle set off to gather personal items for Katie’s overnight bag.
    Once she was out of sight, he added more detailed information. “I’ve been through the house and nothin’ seems tae be obviously missing. Sure money or jewelry might have been taken, but if it was, there’s no sign o’ a hurried search. No drawers or closets