Death in Dalkinchie

by Carly Reid

  Jessica cleared her throat, which was suddenly feeling scratchy. “Nothing has been really ordinary, Detective Inspector…I mean, I have spoken to Patricia a couple of times and I think she’s coping OK, but I haven’t seen her since – ” she interrupted herself, unsure how to phrase the next part of the sentence. Since she had been implicated in her own husband’s death? Since she found the poison? Since her unfair arrest?

  ” – since yesterday morning.” She finished, lamely. She swallowed. Still scratchy. She lifted Ealisaid’s cup to her lips, but found it empty. There was no water on the table – although, as she now realized, it looked as if she had interrupted DI Gordon and Murdo in the middle of afternoon tea. A floral plate in the centre of the table held some of Ealisaid’s finest delicacies and Murdo was, in fact, placidly finishing off a strawberry tart. Normally Jessica would have been quite envious – the little fruit and cream filled tarts were her favourites – but right now it didn’t appeal at all. In fact, she realized, she was feeling a little queasy.

  James Gordon was having trouble focusing on Jessica’s words. All he could hear was the noise of Murdo eating the cake; chew, chew, slurp. Chew, chew, slurp. Chew, chew – how could the man take such a long time to eat such a tiny cake? Then, suddenly, the noise receded, to be replaced with an insistent ringing in his ears. Or was it buzzing? He blinked and realized that Jessica had stopped speaking and he had taken absolutely nothing from what she had said. The room suddenly seemed impossibly bright. His eyes were beginning to water. He opened his mouth to speak, although he had no idea what he was going to say, but before he could get a chance, Murdo interjected.

  “You don’t look very well, Jessica. You look a wee bit hingy. Are you sure you shouldnae be in your bed?”

  A look of relief came over Jessica’s face. “I actually do think I’m getting sick. Can we do this another time?”

  Murdo glanced towards the Detective Inspector who nodded, and then the young Special Constable rose to his feet. “Come on then, I’ll walk you hame. I think it’s maybe a hot toddy and a cozy blanket that you need! There’s been a few bugs going about, it’s always the same when the schools go back. Up you get.”

  They departed from the room. James knew that he should be concerned about the young woman, and should probably try and follow them to make sure she was OK.

  Instead, he just wanted to curl up and fall asleep.

  * * *

  Grateful for Murdo’s company, Jessica made her way along the path towards the cottage. It was a good thing she had left when she did. All of a sudden she felt boiling hot. A fever, on top of everything else, perhaps? Her head ached, her throat was definitely actually hurting, and the toastie she had eaten – far too fast, she now realized – was sitting heavily in her delicate stomach. She hoped she could make it home before that was no longer the case.

  Murdo, striding beside her, was chatting away comfortably. “As I say, there’s quite a few wee bugs going about and you and Magnus were up at Drummond Primary, were you no’? Or maybe it was something you ate?”

  Jessica’s internal alarm system pinged. Apart from the toastie, what had she eaten that day? Her eyes swam. She focused on her feet, moving them one after the other, step, step, step along the path until finally the small bridge that signalled the start of the direct path to Reenie’s cottage came into view.

  “Do you need me to come in, Jessica?” Murdo seemed untroubled, so it couldn’t be as bad as all that. He had taken her all the way to the door of the cottage.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll go straight to bed.”

  Murdo nodded and took his leave, walking back the same way they had come.

  True to her word, Jessica managed only to take her shoes off before tumbling into her bed and falling in to a hot, bewildered sleep.

  * * *

  The room was still when she awoke, and for a moment Jessica was utterly confused. Unaccustomed to napping during the day, she couldn’t understand why she was in bed while the light through the window told her that it could not be night time. And why did her head feel like that?

  She sat up as she remembered what had happened, testing her body to see where the trouble was. It all seem centred in her head, which felt like it might burst, although her limbs ached unbearably too, and – she now realized – her chest felt tight.

  Jessica panicked, sitting there alone in her room, tears coming readily to her eyes. What could be wrong with her? With horror, she remembered the coffee she had left sitting unattended on a table in the café. How could she have been so stupid? She knew that there was a poisoner on the loose, and she didn’t really believe it could be Patricia, which logically meant that it must be someone else – and she had left a drink sitting in full view of anyone in Dalkinchie who had happened to be in the café. Perhaps the true culprit knew she was investigating the murder? Who knows what might have been put into her drink? Was this how Desmond Wilcott had felt?

  She had to contact Reenie. She managed a quick text before falling back into a feverish sleep.

  When she next awoke, Reenie was sitting next to her bed. There was a tall glass of water sitting on the nightstand, and something cool spread across her head. The light had changed somewhat, the August evenings, while still summery, contained more than a hint of fall – autumn, as Reenie would say.

  “Hey, there. How are you doing, Jessie?”

  Jessica focused on her aunt’s face. How was she doing? Once again she was unsure. She tried to sit up and Reenie eased the process by adjusting the pillows comfortably behind her as she rose. Jessica realised that she was feeling a little better. The intense pressure in her head had lessened, although her throat was still hurting when she swallowed. She didn’t feel quite as hot either, and her heart rate had slowed down to a level she could cope with.

  “Reenie. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me…I feel so sick.”

  Reenie gently stroked her niece’s brow.

  “I think you just have a virus, Jessie, but Grant is looking into you seeing a doctor. I’ve been so remiss, not getting you signed up sooner. There is an out-of-hours service, but we just need to work out how you access it as a visitor. Then we will get you an appointment.”

  “Grant’s here?”

  “Yes. He was in the shop when I got your message, and we came together. He’s downstairs with Skye and Willow. Do you have a sore throat? I can make you a ginger tea, and put some honey in it if that sounds good?”

  That sounded perfect, and Jessica said so. As Reenie went downstairs, she lay back in her pillows and contemplated what had happened. The fear of a few hours ago had faded somewhat, and she felt a little stupid for her earlier panic. Perhaps it really was just a virus.

  A mug of sweet, spicy tea later, and Jessica felt well enough to go downstairs. She found Reenie sitting in front of the fireplace. Willow, clearly in a playful mood, kept jumping in front of Skye who had taken the coveted spot on the rug. The puppy barked and play-bowed, trying to entice Skye to get on her feet and run around with her. Skye raised her head and looked steadily at the puppy, then tucked it down again, lifting her eyes and looking pleadingly at Reenie, and as Jessica moved over, flicking her soulful gaze to her as well. Reenie picked up a tug toy and waved it in front of the pup, trying to distract her with a game. Jessica dropped into the armchair beside Skye.

  “Jessica. It’s good to see you up and about.”

  Grant had come through from the kitchen, wearing an apron tied around his waist. That explained the drifting smells of sautéed onions…and maybe sweet peppers? Jessica didn’t feel hungry, but the fact that Grant was here, cooking for Reenie in her kitchen, was not lost on her. Maybe she was starting to feel better after all.

  “Thanks, Grant, Honestly, I am beginning to feel like I overreacted a bit. I felt so, so sick earlier!”

  “You were sleeping when we arrived, and hot but not worryingly so. Reenie thought it would be a good idea to bring down your temperature and try to get you a doctor�
�s appointment.”

  “I feel much cooler now. I’m still not right, but I’m not as scared as I was earlier. I really thought – ” Jessica didn’t expand on what she had thought. It was embarrassing to admit that she had worried that she might have been poisoned.

  “Well, we’ve established that you can just turn up at the out-of-hours doctors and they will schedule you, so if you think you need to do that we can. However, Reenie thinks it’s probably the beginning of a nasty virus and I must say, I agree. The early stages can make you feel very ill. If your temperature is coming down then I would hope that you might find relief from the other symptoms quickly.”

  Jessica looked at Grant, standing there in his apron, oven glove flipped over his forearm. His head slightly tilted to the side, concern and – yes, affection, written all over his face. Reenie, still half-engaged with the tussle with Willow, had been nodding along while Grant spoke. Unexpected tears prickled the back of Jessica’s eyes. She had been lucky enough to grow up in a close-knit, caring family, and here in Scotland it seemed that she had found the same again.

  * * *

  A good night’s sleep improved Jessica’s symptoms and her spirits even further, and a doctor had been ruled unnecessary. Despite this, Reenie had prescribed a day of rest and Grant had agreed. There was nothing pressing at the newspaper, he’d said, and it would be better if Jessica returned in full health rather than trying to battle through the symptoms and probably take longer to get better. She should rest.

  This had sounded like a great plan, and Jessica did want to recover enough to help out Ealisaid at her outside catering job the following evening. The only problem? By midday, Jessica was bored. She had drifted around the cottage, done a little laundry, watched some daytime TV, read a couple of chapters of her book, and was now attempting to do a meditation exercise. One of her sisters had sent her the link.

  Jessica sat crossed-legged on the rug, closed her eyes, pictured the calm beach scene as instructed, tried to relax her whole body...but felt her attention drifting within fifteen seconds, wondering whether Patricia would call her. She opened one eye and peeked at the screen of her cell phone. No messages. She sighed, and tried to tune in again to the woman’s soporific voice. This time, it was only ten seconds before she began to wonder if it was too early for lunch.

  Jessica wished that Reenie had at least left Willow behind to provide a little company and stimulation.

  By early afternoon, Jessica knew that she had a heavy cold but was otherwise feeling a lot better. Reenie had left her some hot medicated lemon drinks to take and they had cleared her head and soothed her throat. Her appetite had recovered, and she was contemplating going into Dalkinchie village after all, when the noise of a car drawing up outside attracted her attention.

  Glancing out the window, Jessica saw Patricia Wilcott emerge from her car, drawn neatly up to the sidewalk just outside Reenie’s small front garden. The woman reached back in to her car to remove a bunch of flowers, walked smartly down the path and rapped a couple of times on the front door.

  “Jessica, how are you feeling my dear? Your aunt said you had taken ill. Here, these are for you,” Patricia said, proffering the flowers.

  “That’s so kind! Thank you. I’m actually feeling a lot better. Come in. When were you speaking to Reenie?”

  “I have just come from her shop – these are from me, but she made them up with you in mind.”

  Jessica took the delicate bunch from her. Reenie knew her favorites, and had incorporated some sweet-smelling freesia.

  “I hope you don’t mind me popping in to see you. I had been wanting to catch up; I wasn’t sure what you had heard, but there have been a number of developments since our breakfast the other day.”

  Jessica nodded. “I guess Mr Donaldson hasn’t given you my message yet.”

  “I saw Donald this morning, but he didn’t mention anything. What did you want to talk about?”

  Jessica struggled with her next words. She didn’t want to upset Patricia by hinting at the gossip that she had been hearing. But Patricia was pragmatic; and she put Jessica straight.

  “I know what everyone is saying, Jessica. They think I have been arrested for poisoning my husband. I haven’t, of course, or I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now. I found a vial of nicotine. A small glass thing, tucked away on my mantelpiece. I would never have found it if I hadn’t been clearing those trophies off the mantelpiece to pack away. All of a sudden I got tired of looking at a shelf full of his achievements, you know? It all felt meaningless and more than a little sad. What does a life amount to in the end?”

  Patricia stopped, and pressed her lips together tightly for a moment, closing her eyes. She took a breath, and continued:

  “We didn’t always get on, Desmond and I, although we did build a marriage and a life together, and raised a wonderful daughter. As hard as things sometimes were, I’m proud of what we achieved and all that silver on the mantelpiece – it wasn’t about that. I wanted them boxed up and away, and I had this sudden realization that I didn’t have to ask anyone for permission so I went ahead and did it. That’s when I found the nicotine. I told the police straight away, and naturally they had a lot of questions for me. That’s all. I imagine whoever put it there wanted to frame me, but didn’t count on me finding it first. I suppose I’m lucky the police didn’t search my house!” The normally porcelain Patricia had a spot of high colour on each cheekbone. Jessica finally got her opportunity to get a word in edgeways, and question Patricia about the nicotine.

  “Where was the nicotine vial exactly?”

  Patricia looked confused. “Inside a trophy on the mantelpiece. I just told you.“

  “No, I mean which trophy exactly? Because I looked at them a bit on Sunday, and there aren’t many that are like a cup, you know, that would hold something inside. A lot of them were shaped more like a shield.”

  “Oh yes, I see what you mean. It was the large one in the centre. The Donaldson one. It’s got a deep bowl, perfect for concealing things. You wouldn’t see anything unless you looked right inside, or picked it up and heard it rattle.”

  Jessica felt a jolt of excitement, She had been right.

  “Then…Patricia, it wasn’t there when I looked at it on Sunday! I did pick that one up and had a good look. I’m honestly sure…really, it was definitely empty. Whoever put it there…”

  “Must have done so after Sunday, and before I found it on Tuesday afternoon.” Patricia finished the sentence, looking at Jessica with widened eyes. Her next question took Jessica by surprise.

  “Are you feeling well enough to go out?”

  “Actually, yes. I am feeling a lot better. The paracetamol is helping. I was planning on going out. I’m getting really bored stuck in the house.”

  “Right. Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Jessica could not have predicted the next words that came from Patricia’s lips.

  “We are going to confront my husband’s murderer.”

  14

  Margaret Mustard Speaks

  Patricia had remained tight-lipped throughout the journey, driving efficiently around the curves and bends, and fobbing off Jessica’s entreaties for more information. Soon it was evident where she was headed, as she took the unmistakable winding road up to the gates of Castle Drummond. Patricia walked determinedly across the gravel drive, round to the side door that Jessica had been through earlier in the week and knew led to the kitchen and pantry. Patricia gave it one smart rap and then, opening it before waiting for a response, strode straight through. A woman on a mission.

  Margaret Mustard was bent over the large range stove at the far end of the large room, stirring a wooden spoon around a stock pot. She turned as the two women entered, her mouth falling open in a perfect round ‘O’ of shock.

  “Margaret Mustard, how could you! I knew you hated him…but to go this far. And then to make it look as if it was me!”

  Patricia didn’t stop
until she was inches from the woman, too close for comfort. Margaret was several inches taller, but was clearly intimidated by the shorter woman’s fierce demeanour. Although as she began to speak, Jessica felt she was missing something entirely.

  “Patricia, I dinnae know what to say…I’m so sorry, I never meant for any of it to happen!”

  “I am not saying that he didn’t hurt you Margaret, and I understand why you were angry at him. But this! And what do you have against me?”

  After a brief silence, Patricia – to everyone’s surprise, not least her own – burst into loud, noisy sobs. She backed away from Margaret and found a chair, dropping into it and continuing to cry. The adrenaline that had brought her all the way here from Dalkinchie, up the winding road and through the door had clearly deserted her. Gone was the composure she had maintained for nearly a week. Jessica rushed to her side and so did Margaret Mustard. The latter dropped to her knees beside Patricia and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Patricia, I’m so, so awfy sorry. I really never meant for things to end up like this. It was all a big mistake and I’ve been so worried, you’ll never know, it’s been keeping me up at night. There wis no love lost between me and your husband for sure, but I am not the sort of person who would do something like that. It has been a terrible, terrible time and I’ve felt so badly.”

  Margaret’s words rang true and it would certainly explain her emotional reactions and furtive behavior over the past few days, but Jessica couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. How could mixing nicotine into a pot of marmalade be described as a mistake?

  “I wish I had never entered my marmalade in the Show. All those years ago. I loved entering the knitting, but I had never entered the edible classes. My pal Janet suggested it, and all of a sudden, there I was, with my Orange & Whisky taking best in show! The pressure, you can’t imagine. All of a sudden I had to keep up appearances and enter year after year, especially when I joined the committee of the Guild. I think they only took me because I was the marmalade winner. I wis so worried, every year, that this would be the time that I didnae win.”