Murder Lies Waiting

by Alanna Knight

  She stopped and looked out of the window as if she was seeing it all again. ‘After the trial and a not-proven verdict, it was terrible – terrible until Aunt Brook offered me a new life – with her – and I gladly accepted. The past was gone, never mentioned between us.’

  I had one question. ‘Is Lady Adeline still around?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I expect so.’

  ‘Then why on earth did you want to come here with so many bitter memories? Wouldn’t it have been better, especially for you, to forget the past?’

  And all the time she had been talking, one other question had been forcing its way into my shocked thoughts, remembering the original story about her foster parents. I already suspected Sadie was somewhat economical with the truth. Were there other lies to be uncovered, but most important of all, what was the truth, the real reason for coming back to Bute and for my presence here with her?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When I put the question to her, she smiled. ‘Yes, Rose, there was a reason, a very good one. I have always loved Bute. I was born here and I’ve always been haunted by the past. Always wanted to prove my innocence and most of all, get the island to acknowledge that I was an honest islander and I hadn’t murdered anyone.’

  We were both silent for a moment before I said rather awkwardly: ‘Well, thank you for telling me all this.’

  She gave me one of her intense looks. ‘Surely you can guess why I wanted you to know? When I first came to Solomon’s Tower as housekeeper to a lady detective, well, meeting you like that was when the idea came to me. I realised that I would never have a better chance, and if I was patient, sometime the perfect opportunity might arise to tell you my story, and you were such a kind, understanding person, I was certain to get your help.

  ‘Then at last the perfect time came, Mr Jack’s family wedding anniversary. I had been given a holiday, thought I might go to Oban – I know some folks there. But the real thrill for me, what really changed my mind was when you had to go to Glasgow to the court case and abandon the family visit.’ She clapped her hands delightedly. ‘It was just like fate had planned it all. We’ve become real friends lately, we can talk to each other and here was the perfect chance to go back to Bute.’

  A little faint light was beginning to filter through. I groaned and she smiled. ‘Yes, Rose, now you see why I arranged this holiday and asked you to come with me. Can you blame me? You have solved so many cases, helped so many people who were nothing to you, and I realised as I reorganised your files that you were the one person in this world who could lift this cloud off me for ever.’

  ‘Wait a moment. I’m used to dealing with things in the present.’ I stopped and thought of the impossibility – where on earth would I start on a not-proven case where all the clues, if any existed, had been lost and the circumstantial evidence destroyed twenty years ago?

  She grinned. ‘I take it that means yes, you’ll do it? Oh, I’m so glad.’

  I shook my head firmly. ‘It does not mean yes. Have you thought what this entails? For heaven’s sake, I—we are supposed to be on a week’s holiday. What makes you think I can solve your problem in a few days?’ I added, swallowing the first bitter realisation about how easily I had been tricked.

  Sadie gave one of her brilliant smiles. ‘Oh, you’re a dab hand at solving mysteries, I’m absolutely sure it will be easy for you.’ Her mind was quite settled, her aim achieved. ‘Now, shall I ring for another pot of tea?’

  I didn’t sleep much that night in the splendid frothy white mass of a bed I had been so looking forward to in this luxurious bedroom. Perhaps three courses of a splendid supper with soup, poached salmon and an apple dumpling helped to keep me awake, and when I thought of Sadie in the room next door, in all probability sleeping peacefully, I felt angry and yes, betrayed.

  I had been lured here on false pretences – give Sadie her due, she had admitted as much. And the last thing I wanted at this moment was to get involved in a long-dead, not-proven murder case. I realised too that my pride and integrity were hurt most of all. To think that for the past two years I, a respected lady investigator, as well as a senior detective in the Edinburgh Police and a small girl, had been quite unaware that we were living under the same roof as a woman who had once been tried for murder.

  Of course, she was probably innocent – if she was telling the truth – but the stigma remained. As for Jack, he would have a fit when he heard about it. For the possible contamination of his innocent little daughter, first of all. And then his wife, who was always far too trusting, would be his scornful rejoinder.

  I had a couple of hours of troubled sleep and when dawn broke I was strong in my resolution that over breakfast I would tell Sadie that having thought her situation over most carefully – which was true, I had hardly slept thinking about it – although I was sympathetic to the plan she had been considering since her arrival at Solomon’s Tower as housekeeper to a lady detective, and the possibilities that might be achieved in putting to rights what she had long regarded as an impediment to her reputation, I could not be expected in all truth to spend one week, all that we had, trying to re-establish the past and exorcise the nightmare that had haunted her. I would add that I was sorry to disappoint her but would point out rather sternly that in the circumstances, as I had only been invited on this holiday on false pretences, I would catch the next ferry back to Wemyss Bay and return home.

  Of course, I was hoping that she would still consider us as her friends and as our housekeeper, if she was prepared to keep the details of her unfortunate past as confidential between us, and at all costs, endeavour to keep these revelations well away from Jack. I would add that I hoped I had made it clear what his reactions would be. He was a policeman. She would be dismissed, sent off immediately.

  With my little speech prepared, I went down to the restaurant, full of firm resolve.

  She was already there at the breakfast table, Harry Godwin hovering near.

  Not only Harry but an older man introduced as Gerald Thorn. An exceedingly handsome, dark-haired and well-set-up gentleman in an expensive-looking suit, a presence that reduced Harry to the appearance of a gawky schoolboy.

  Gerald. He was very tall and as he shook my hand warmly, I realised that he had a charming smile and the kind of face that would inspire all women guests with a feeling of trust – and perhaps even secret dreams.

  At his side, Harry beamed on him. ‘Gerald is the power behind the throne here.’

  So Gerald was the real manager and, as he shook his head modestly, if first appearances were anything to go by I didn’t doubt that for a moment.

  ‘Excuse us, ladies. We have the day’s business matters to attend,’ he said politely and with a bow, the two men left us.

  Sadie rose politely as I took my seat opposite and gave me that brilliant smile.

  ‘Well?’ she said eagerly. ‘What do you think of him?’

  I knew she meant Thorn. ‘I thought Gerald was going to be the porter,’ I said weakly.

  She laughed. ‘He’s Harry’s greatest friend.’

  ‘How old is Harry?’ I had to ask.

  She shrugged. ‘Early twenties.’ He certainly didn’t look it, I thought, as she went on, ‘Gerald is a lot older but they’ve always been quite inseparable. Harry says everything he has learnt about hotel management, he owes to Gerald.’

  She was clearly very impressed. And I knew somehow that the situation had subtly changed and that I would never say a word of what I had rehearsed as I looked at this new Sadie who I had never dreamt existed inside the pleasant, efficient but unassuming housekeeper at Solomon’s Tower. Thirty-six years old, never married but with a constant stream of male admirers, that’s for sure, and by her happy expression, Harry Godwin – or was it Gerald Thorn? – was about to join the line, next on the list.

  And I remembered Jack’s words as we met her occasionally on her day off walking in Princes Street Gardens, or encountered her in the Sheep Heid Inn, our local taver
n at Duddingston, the end of the street one might say, or having a goodnight conversation at our kitchen door. Always with a man, and seldom the same one twice.

  Jack, not usually observant about such matters, had remarked on this before. It was a mystery the way she attracted men and he had even hinted, to put it rather crudely, that she might be making a bit extra cash on the side.

  However, when we were alone together I asked her: ‘Why have you never married? I mean you seem to have plenty of gentleman friends,’ I added delicately.

  She sighed, a sad shake of the head. ‘I have had plenty of chances, as Aunt Brook would say, but surely you can guess the reason why the men I met remained just friends, why I kept them all at arm’s length? They knew nothing about me or my past or that I secretly yearned when I was young – and still do,’ she sighed, ‘– for a husband and children.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m getting a bit too old for that now.’

  ‘What nonsense,’ I said, but realising it was probably true. ‘Isn’t there anyone?’ looking in the direction of the two men who had disappeared into the office, especially Harry who had already indicated that he could hardly keep his eyes off her.

  She followed my glance and grinned. ‘Harry is really sweet, isn’t he?’ She was aware of his attentions but I guessed – wrongly as it turned out – that even in his early twenties and looking sixteen, he was far too young for her.

  ‘There has never been anyone,’ she was saying. ‘I have always told myself firmly that I must never marry.’ A pause and a deep sigh. ‘That was until Captain Robbie came along – he’s very handsome and kind, wants to marry me. He’s in the Merchant Navy on short hauls, thankfully, wants an answer when he gets back from Hamburg.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve thought about that and it will have to be no.’

  ‘Why no?’

  ‘Oh, surely you can see the reason, Rose?’ she cried. ‘Whoever marries me, marries Sadie Brook with no idea of my past, of Sarah Vantry – and what happened. I could never be any man’s wife and withhold that dark secret, even presuming I could keep it and that somehow, sometime it would not leak out. And that would be the end of a happy marriage.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘Not-proven was the verdict.’

  She laughed scornfully. ‘And as a policeman’s wife and an investigator you know what that means. I quote – “We know you did it, but we can’t prove it; go away and don’t do it again.” I couldn’t take that chance, and deceive a good, decent man like Robbie. I would have to tell him the truth.’

  ‘When does he get back?’

  ‘Very soon. They are due in Leith shortly after we get back.’ She paused. ‘You are my last hope, Rose, my last chance of happiness, if you like. I knew you would help me,’ she added bleakly. ‘You are a kind woman and I’ve seen how ready you are to help unhappy clients who have real problems.’

  As she spoke, she looked at me intently and the demons clicked in again. Suddenly it was all monstrous, the timing, the way she had planned this: no impromptu holiday but as soon as she knew I was going to Glasgow, all carefully worked out. She would invite me to accompany her to Rothesay with some incredible crazy idea that she could prevail upon me to prove her innocence. What she hadn’t worked out, however, was that although I was competent at solving domestic crimes, I could not work miracles.

  I did some rapid calculations. We were almost newly arrived at the hotel but from that first moment we stepped into reception, Harry Godwin had shown a great interest in Sadie.

  He obviously found her very appealing and despite the absent Robbie away at sea, whose cause I was now learning I had been brought along to support, she was certainly sharing signs that this was a mutual attraction. That was no business of mine, despite the aforesaid Robbie, since there was no commitment there either. It did give me a further sense of the trap that I had fallen into and again revived that sense of having been used. Did she intend telling Harry that she was Sarah Vantry?

  She stretched out her hand across the table. ‘You will try, won’t you?’

  The plea wasn’t completely wasted. I’m used to listening to clients’ sad and complicated histories. I liked Sadie and wanted to believe her story, that as a sixteen-year-old girl, an unwanted step-daughter, she had been framed. But I also knew that I was completely helpless faced with a murder case done and dusted, the page closed on that not-proven verdict twenty years ago.

  So where was I expected to find fresh evidence – if any existed – to prove her innocence, when even the police had not been able to find any but circumstantial, not enough to convict and hang her?

  I told her so in as many words and she winced visibly. A week, six days was all we had. ‘You know Rothesay and as I am a complete stranger, where do you suggest we start?’

  Clasping her hands, she looked almost happy, poor girl. She presumed she had won me over. ‘Well, at the scene of the crime, of course. That’s the procedure, what you do, isn’t it, Rose?’

  ‘Where is this place?’

  ‘Just a mile or two away, near the West Island Way. A place called St Colmac, that’s where Vantry Castle has been for hundreds of years.’

  My heart sank as I pictured another ancient ruin to add to this Gothic horror.

  ‘So how do we get there?’

  ‘There’s a horse-drawn tramway from here to Port Bannatyne. Vantry is fairly near.’

  I had a sudden, pleasing thought. With my new interest in motor cars, Jack had taught me to drive, I had also seen a notice in reception declaring that this luxury hotel boasted in this age of travel by motor car, the hire of vehicles and a chauffeur, if the gentleman – no mention of a lady – was not himself a qualified driver. And at a price, I suspected.

  I mentioned this to Sadie and found that she knew already. She had seen the notice and had worked out that possibility as well. Very thorough she had been, from the moment I imagined her going through my casebooks, on the excuse of providing an updated filing system, but with this idea of returning to Bute always at the front of her mind.

  I read her thoughts. Rose McQuinn will prove my innocence. Had it never seemed a forlorn hope, even then?

  ‘Who lives there now? After twenty years, what if it is a deserted ruin?’

  ‘I haven’t asked yet. Quite honestly I want to keep a low profile – just in case old Godwin remembered me, I didn’t want to seem interested in case that jogged his memory.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Maybe we’re safe enough with Harry. He won’t remember.’ She paused. ‘But maybe it would be less risky if you made the enquiry about the Vantrys.’

  So I took my first cautious step over the threshold and decided to make what sounded like regular tourist enquiries. But at the back of my mind, struggling and fretful to be recognised, those words – Jack’s – as we prepared for the holiday.

  Safe enough …

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sadie went back upstairs and Gerald drifted over from the reception desk and seemed very eager to resume a conversation regarding the afternoon tea menu. I was surprised to find myself his centre of attraction until it transpired that Harry had told him that I was an authoress, and I was suddenly a person of some importance in Gerald Thorn’s orbit. He was eager to wax eloquent on the tourist history.

  ‘The holidaymakers of the last decade arrived as you did, Mrs Macmerry, foot passengers on the steamer, and it was necessary to transport such large crowds as cheaply and quickly as possible to their destinations. This was done by horse-drawn vehicles. Then five years ago the Rothesay Tramways company opened their electric tramway system from Guildford Square to Port Bannatyne. Last year this was extended to Ettrick Bay and has proved very popular.’

  He paused and gave me an encouraging smile. ‘Is there any particular part of the island’s history you are interested in?’

  Not Vantry Castle, in case he remembered Sadie. ‘I’d like to know more about St Colmac and St Blane’s.’

  He nodded. ‘Oh, St Colmac isn’t difficult, the tramway ride to Bannat
yne and then just ten minutes’ walk away, there are some interesting standing stones. We believe that St Blane came over from Ireland, one of the earliest saints from that area, but both places are part of the mysterious, unrecorded history of our island.’

  Harry had joined us while he was talking and nodded eagerly. ‘Mrs Macmerry should be warned that it is more difficult to get to St Blane’s, although it’s worth seeing for its ruined chapel.’

  I thought for a moment and said: ‘I noticed that you have motor car hire.’

  Gerald laughed, a broad smile. ‘We have indeed.’

  ‘That’s very up to date and surely still fairly novel on an island?’

  He smiled. ‘Well, this is a very high-class hotel and so we try to keep everything up to the minute. That is what our wealthier guests, especially foreigners, now expect.’

  Harry looked at him and said: ‘Although it is costly, many rich folk who pride themselves on being modern like to avail themselves of the unique opportunity of exploring the whole island in comfort.’

  Gerald nodded. ‘And we also have a couple of sailing boats moored out at Kames Bay and have access to qualified sailors, ready to take guests out round the island or even across to Arran and the outer islands.’

  I noticed the use of the proprietory ‘we’ as he continued, smiling: ‘Can I interest you in that, Mrs Macmerry? A great experience and very popular,’ and Harry interrupted proudly: ‘I’m sure there can’t be many such facilities provided by hotels in Edinburgh.’

  I murmured vaguely. Although I had got used to the idea of a ferry and felt safe enough, the idea of a sailing boat with the sea lapping at its sides just yards away, bobbing about in the waves and occasionally throwing spray aboard, was terrifying. Persuaded by the family on holiday, I had had a nightmare experience on Loch Muick that I would not care to repeat, not only because of the embarrassment of seasickness but – much worse – the prospect that if the boat capsized I would drown. I can’t swim. Even a childhood in Orkney had not encouraged me to go anywhere near the sea and Gran told me when other children went paddling at the water’s edge, the touch of a wave on my toes sent me off in screaming terror. Was it an inheritance from my selkie great-grandmother Sibella Scarth, I often wondered, this fear of being reclaimed by the sea?