Murder Lies Waiting

by Alanna Knight

  ‘I know what you are thinking. But you haven’t been completely honest with us, have you, Rose? Pretending to be an authoress?’

  ‘That wasn’t my idea,’ I protested. ‘It was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘I’m not blaming you, don’t think that. Pretence isn’t a punishable offence, unless you are using it intending to cheat someone. And you are quite at liberty to be an authoress as well in your real profession – as a detective.’

  I stared at him. How did he know? He smiled. ‘Your husband gave the game away. As I told you, I happened to be in the office when he telephoned and we had the opportunity for a wee chat. When I said I had the pleasure of meeting you, Jack groaned. “For God’s sake don’t have any murders up there while she’s staying on the island,” he said. And out it came, that you were in fact a lady investigator – quite famous, he said, in Edinburgh – having a holiday up there with your housekeeper as companion. He laughed, and although he hated to mention it, he said they do follow you, knowing your profession – murders, I mean.’

  I felt cross about Jack not minding his own business, as Peter continued: ‘This is our first murder in twenty years and the last one had a not-proven verdict.’ Thankfully he hadn’t recognised Sadie, I thought, as he sighed: ‘To be honest, I am right out of my depth. Not only do I not have a clue about the corpse, or to put it more bluntly the victim, lying in the hospital mortuary, but I doubt whether Inspector Rudd has any idea, either, on how to conduct a murder investigation. We’ve done nothing here but investigate poachers, petty thefts, lost dogs and cats and a very occasional violent drunk, and unless we had some definite proof that this is murder, I could hardly approach Rudd with it. He is a stickler for facts, keeps us all up to scratch. He’d just laugh and say I had been reading too many crime stories, and real life in Bute wasn’t like that.’

  I had a feeling that Rudd wasn’t the most popular and well-liked inspector as Peter gave a bewildered sigh: ‘I can’t even rely on my Edinburgh training manual. That was for detectives and I was just a beat policeman.’

  ‘Well,’ I said consolingly, ‘not to worry. I expect it will be handled by the lads from Glasgow.’

  He looked at me, seemed about to say something and changed his mind. We were silent for a moment, then he grinned weakly. ‘However, once the word gets around there will be general consternation. First an influenza epidemic – that turned out to be premature – and now murder. Panic all round.’

  Another deep sigh. ‘This is the year that will go down in the island’s history. Folks here like to boast that we are a law-abiding community, and have even said they didn’t need a police force and it was a waste of money. Now, if we don’t produce the killer, they will believe that they are not safe in their beds, and we have a murderer on the loose.’

  He regarded me sadly. ‘I’m a novice at this game. I just wish I had your experience – you must have solved a lot of crimes as a lady investigator.’

  I said hastily: ‘Most of my cases have always been domestic matters, fraud, thieving servants, adultery or blackmail. Only a few violent deaths and no murders.’

  ‘So maybe you can give me an idea from your greater experience in Edinburgh where one starts searching for clues,’ he said mockingly, but the remark had a serious implication as, frowning, he added: ‘There will still be a day or two before you leave the Glasgow lads and the procurator arrive, and we might have some evidence to present to Rudd.’

  Suddenly I knew what he had in mind. Clouds cleared from my mind. With Sadie’s illness, perhaps fate was taking a hand. The plan to prove her innocence had never been feasible, just a dream, and now since she seemed no longer particularly interested in anything but Harry – in less than a week the whole situation had changed.

  And until we left I could lend my experience to help Peter solve his first murder, especially as he knew Bute well and I might need assistance in discovering why someone wanted to kill me. There had to be a motive.

  What did I know of vital importance that had scared or driven someone at Vantry into the role of my would-be killer? Main suspects were Edgar and Beatrice – surely not Lady Adeline, but what about Angus? He had easy access to the bicycle to cut that brake cable while I was indoors. Did he have a secret history, perhaps a police record?

  Peter was waiting for me to say something. I nodded and said: ‘Very well, I’ll do what I can, though I should warn you, that might not be much—’

  He jumped to his feet. For a moment I thought he was about to hug me. ‘You will?’

  ‘What else am I to do until we leave? Sadie isn’t well enough to go gallivanting about the island, so I might as well make myself useful. Where do we begin?’

  Peter had taken out a notebook and was gathering his thoughts when I said: ‘First of all, I need to speak to Jack, tell him as little as possible, just that I may have to stay a little longer – until Sadie is completely recovered.’

  Peter was pleased and I was glad that he had asked for my help and that I was back in business, instead of sitting around trying to work out who had tried to kill me and watching over Sadie, I was free to do what I loved most. Peter had called it my bread and butter, and so it was, solving a mystery.

  ‘What was this man like?’ I asked.

  ‘Would you like to come and have a look at him?’ Peter said eagerly. ‘He is in the hospital mortuary,’ he added with an anxious frown. ‘Maybe you wouldn’t—’

  He wasn’t the first to feel doubtful regarding the abilities of this under-five-foot, fortyish woman with the mass of unruly yellow curls. For a detective, mine was not an appearance most likely to inspire confidence.

  I said quickly: ‘I’ve seen many corpses in my career. I lived in Arizona in the Wild West with my first husband who worked with Pinkerton’s Detective Agency. We were on both sides of the bullets from marauding bandits – and Indian arrows, Peter. I assure you, I’m not at all squeamish.’

  He sighed. ‘That would be a help.’

  That settled, I went on: ‘First of all, I’d like to see the exact spot where the body was found.’

  ‘The usual procedure in Edinburgh, I seem to remember.’

  ‘And where any crime has been committed, it is invaluable, especially if it has not been disturbed and remains exactly the same, for footprints and so forth. How do we get there?’

  ‘We can borrow the hotel motor car in an emergency like this, I am sure Harry will be willing, and perhaps drive us there. I can’t yet.’

  ‘But I can, Peter.’ His eyes widened at that. Armed with Harry’s instructions, which he had read to me earlier, a female at the wheel was to provoke even more stares as well as anxious looks. I was enjoying this new experience. The motor car was easy to navigate and there were none of those sixteen-foot-wide roads, which were forbidden under the law – at least if there were, we were not wasting time getting out and measuring them, I told Peter.

  We drove the short distance through Port Bannatyne and down to Kames Bay towards the strand where the man had been found. Parking by the roadside we walked down steps towards the beach and faced our first hurdle. The tide was out, the crime scene now a vast stretch of unmarked wet sand. There would no longer be any visible footprints, they having been carried away by the twice-daily tides. The disturbance where the finder’s dog had scraped away the seaweed, where the doctor had knelt down to examine the body, the footprints of the men from the hospital, all were lost, every possible clue had vanished, washed away into the sea.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Peter scratched his head. ‘Sorry, forgot about it being a beach and the tide.’

  ‘Which way was he lying? Can you remember?’ I asked. The sea far out now, a faint lace of white waves patterning the land.

  Peter stopped, looked round and then with a stick of seaweed lying nearby, he knelt down and drew a shape in the sand. ‘Head here – and feet there.’

  I thought about that. The fact that he was lying facing the sea indicated that he was running from his atta
cker but it could also mean that if he was already dead, his body had been arranged in such a position to deliberately create that impression.

  ‘Tell me about him. What was he like?’

  Peter thought for a moment and consulted his notebook. ‘Mid sixties, I have here. Blood had been washed away, but there was a wound on the back of his head suggesting he had been struck down. However, Rudd said it could have been caused when he fell from the sailing ship.’

  He shook his head. ‘I think the inspector is keen on the accidental death theory. It makes for less work and interruption of his easy life.’

  The same thought had occurred to me as, frowning, he continued: ‘The dead man was tall, distinguished-looking, wearing a dark-grey, expensive-looking suit, waistcoat, shirt and tie.’ He looked at me. ‘D’you know, that was when I first suspected that we weren’t seeing one of the drowned passengers. You see, his clothes were all wrong. Not the kind a man would wear for an afternoon outing on a sailing boat – far too formally dressed, clothes he would wear for a business meeting. And his shoes. I always notice a man’s shoes, it’s part of being a policeman, and his were new and highly polished. They hadn’t been in the sea.’

  ‘Well done, Peter.’ He grinned as I went on: ‘Which suggests that he was dead before he was brought down here. Any identifying possessions?’

  ‘No wallet. A gold watch and chain and a signet ring with odd initials, QVE, sounds like he was a freemason or a member of some secret society. Definitely doesn’t sound as if robbery was the motive.’

  ‘I agree, but removing the wallet with some proof of identity is significant.’

  Peter shook his head. ‘It looked to me as if this wasn’t a planned crime, maybe a quarrel and a fight with someone.’

  Not a fight, I thought. Not that blow to the back of his head, unless he was running away. As we walked back to the motor car, my eyes turned in the direction of Vantry. The dead man wearing a dark-grey suit had been tall and distinguished-looking. Now I wondered would the body in the mortuary be the man we had met on the drive after the tour of the house, so frantic not to be seen he had dashed into the bushes. Then there was the other occasion: although I had not had the chance or a reason for a close-up look, the man lurking by the Worths’ pony and trap while they lunched in the hotel also fitted the description.

  Peter had to go back to the station and while I waited for him back at the hotel, Dr Richards appeared in the lounge. He smiled and said: ‘Good, it’s you I’ve come to see – in a professional capacity,’ he added wryly. ‘Wondering how you were, any ill effects after that accident?’

  ‘The bruises are doing nicely, thank you.’

  ‘Hope you gave the bicycle owner a good telling-off.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, it was the other way round …’ And I told him about the brake cable having been cut.

  He was shocked. ‘That could only have happened at Vantry, if the machine was in good order when he last checked it before you.’ Silent for a moment, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully and I asked: ‘How was your visit? Did you see her ladyship?’

  He sighed. ‘I did not. A waste of time. And I went just out of goodwill. My father had a heart condition and he was in the same Glasgow hospital where we understood Lady Vantry had been taken and treated after her riding accident. We were very friendly when I came over here as locum.’ He laughed. ‘I was able to get drugs for her, frowned upon by the good Dr Wills and not easily available without a prescription. In fact, I was always a welcome visitor to Vantry.’ A charming smile. ‘I stayed several times, she liked young folk around her.’

  His expression hinted at more than a little flirtation too, as he went on. ‘She was my only reason for nipping across the water from Wemyss Bay after visiting my mother.’ He sighed. ‘Not exactly popular with the policeman here, our cousin Rudd. Bit of a family feud.’

  I knew that already as he went on: ‘I wanted to see her ladyship, not only as an old friend but as a doctor I was naturally interested, and I decided it would be worthwhile reporting back on her progress.’ Pausing, he shook his head. ‘You see, it was quite odd. There had obviously been a mistake somewhere. The hospital had no record of Lady Adeline Vantry as an accident victim, or of treating her appalling injuries. I was interested in sorting it out, decided that it could have been another hospital and that I would call on her anyway when I was in the area.’

  His expression was grim as he continued: ‘I never got to see her. Beatrice Worth didn’t even let me over the threshold, turned me away saying her ladyship was not receiving visitors and hated all doctors for bungling the operation to her face. I was very annoyed. So much for good intentions.’

  Peter arrived and Richards, with a look at his watch, got up to leave. ‘I have a ferry to catch and to say goodbye to Mamma before I head back homeward. Been good to meet you, Mrs Macmerry. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

  I made the usual cordial reply of hoping so. Peter watched him go and I had an odd feeling that there wasn’t much love lost there either. And that set me thinking. Neither did Dr Wills like him and the general impression was that nobody was anxious to welcome this one-time locum doctor back in Bute, including his cousin the inspector.

  Peter watched the door close and smiled wryly.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked. ‘Have you some problem with the good doctor?’

  ‘You’d need to ask Wills.’ He sighed deeply. ‘First time he’s been back since he was locum here. He had a reputation for drinking too much, gambling, and didn’t inspire trust in patients.’

  Apart from Lady Vantry, I thought, as Peter went on: ‘He tried to blackmail a couple of patients. It was all hushed up, one of those incidents that Wills never talked about, but rumours spread like lightning on an island and it left a sour taste after he departed. Shall we go now?’

  First time Richards had been back in years, and as I followed Peter, I thought: had he come over to Bute, perhaps prompted by his mother in Wemyss Bay, to patch up that family feud with Inspector Rudd, his visit to Vantry merely interest in Lady Vantry’s progress, a sentimental recollection of renewing old acquaintance? Or was there more to it than finding out that she had not been treated in that Glasgow hospital?

  The easy explanation was that even the best hospitals can have their past records lost or mislaid, but did the fact that they denied all knowledge of a patient who was a woman of some importance suggest that Richards might have had in mind a more sinister motive for coming back to Bute, some idea or information that suggested it might be a useful piece of blackmail?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  At the mortuary, a long walk down a narrow corridor into a tiled room, where the acidic chemical smell reminded me unpleasantly of the stuffed animals in the gunroom at Vantry. It made me sneeze and I reached for my handkerchief as Peter spoke to the white-coated man on the door who solemnly ushered us inside and removed the sheet covering the dead man.

  I looked down at his face, my worst fears confirmed.

  ‘Did you recognise him?’ Peter asked, as we left to return the motor car to the hotel.

  ‘I believe so, inasmuch as I have seen him before but never spoken to him.’

  Peter looked at me hopefully and I shook my head. ‘I don’t know his name or his identity.’

  ‘Tell me what you do know, then.’

  So I told him about the furtive man Sadie and I met on the Vantry drive and how I was almost certain this was the same man, identical in height and wearing the same clothes, that I saw waiting for the Worths outside the hotel.

  ‘Our only clue is the initials on that signet ring,’ Peter shook his head. ‘Some Masonic society, I expect, and that’s not much of a clue to go on.’

  Suddenly the initials had a new significance. ‘It’s not a secret society,’ I said triumphantly. ‘V stands for Vantry and QVE could be the initials of Lady Adeline’s estranged husband.’

  As we made our way out of the building, I said: ‘I have a strange feeling that the
corpse we have just visited might well be identified as that remote cousin from England she married.’

  Peter whistled and stared at me wide-eyed. ‘If you’re right, then we have something to go on, a clue at last. Right!’

  And as we approached the waiting motor car: ‘We’ll head to Vantry and when we give the Worths his description, they will be able to immediately confirm his identity. No time like the present, Rose.’

  ‘No, Peter, not so fast.’ He began to protest and I said: ‘Listen, will you? That would be the wrong thing to do. We have already decided this is a murder and in that case everyone connected with the victim is under suspicion.’

  Peter was frowning as I continued: ‘You are presuming the Worths and Lady Vantry had nothing to do with Mr QVE’s unfortunate end, but if you are wrong and they are guilty, not only will they deny all knowledge of him, but it will put them on their guard.’

  Again he began to interrupt and I cut him short: ‘Hear me out. What you suggest is entirely the wrong way to go about solving a murder. And I have another reason that you don’t know about. A very personal reason. Someone tried to kill me after my visit to Vantry yesterday.’

  He gave a shocked exclamation. ‘I thought you just had an accident on the bicycle.’

  ‘An intentional one that was meant to be fatal.’

  I had made light of it, now he had to be told the details. ‘I was there yesterday afternoon, by her ladyship’s invitation, and while I was seeing her someone tampered with the brakes cable on my bicycle outside. It’s a steep, dangerous hill back to the St Colmac road.’

  He nodded. ‘I know it well.’

  ‘Then I expect you know that losing control on a bicycle could have had fatal results. I had just ridden about twenty yards when suddenly I needed to press on the brakes. Nothing happened, I had no control, I was whizzing down the hill and I was going to run full pelt into Dr Richards’ car coming up the hill, straight for me. The only way I could avoid him was throwing myself off. I went one way into the hedgerows and the bicycle skidded away across the road. Dr Richards gathered me up and saw me back to the hotel with the damaged machine.’