Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery)

by Alanna Knight

  Overcome by emotion he dashed a hand across his eyes and walked rapidly to the door. 'I'll bid ye goodnight, lass.'

  He went out quickly, avoiding the questions I was dying to ask. Then, aware of me watching him, he turned and waved, the package of food still in his hand.

  We were to talk again when, unable to resist a mystery, I mentioned the meeting with his son.

  'I should have believed them, lassie. My laddie's dead now. Dead for me,' he added firmly.

  Events moved tragically fast after that and I never did get the end of the story then.

  At least, not from him.

  Chapter Three

  Thane had watched Rory take his departure, his expression under those magisterial eyebrows very broody, even wistful, as if he would have enjoyed accompanying him.

  Inside the Tower, I realized I must make haste. The tilt of the earth in autumn has a dramatic effect on Scotland's landscapes and the best light is toward sunset. Hills like Arthur's Seat are thrown into sharp relief against an often cloudless sky, colours bleached into insignificance under the blaze of summer sunshine becoming vividly alive again. Rock fissures take on shadows deep and mysterious, hinting at the presence of lurking caves with ancient secrets long lost to men. The lines of the runrig agricultural system set down by the early inhabitants of the hill stand out sharply in the fading light and, over all, the breathtaking beauty of deep purples, wine red heath, trees and bushes dappled gold in sunlight.

  It is a magic time when almost anything could happen, an artist's paradise when even an amateur like myself could find inspiration in shapes and shadows.

  Conscious of urgency, of the need to get something down on paper for Vince's approval, I followed the path high above the Tower, which soon disappeared among the rocky shapes. As I clambered across, far below me was the road with its magnificent views of Edinburgh's distant spires.

  I had walked these tracks so many times in the last six months that I knew every stone, with Thane to lead the way, bounding ahead. Watching him, I wondered how old he was. He looked like a young dog, but his life was still one big unsolved mystery and he didn't help much by preferring to remain out of sight most of the time. He was shy to the point of invisibility to all except a chosen few.

  Myself, Jack and now Auld Rory and Nancy. His acquaintance, his trust in humans was expanding. As for me, I still had not the least idea where his lair was or how he managed to keep his coat in that silky condition.

  Sometimes it seemed impossible that Thane was a stray dog roaming the hill, a tramp who identified with one from the human species like Rory. Strays, as I knew, were scruffy and wild: Cat had been a perfect example of an animal who had abandoned the Tower when her old owner Sir Hedley Marsh died and had taken to living rough.

  I watched Thane loping joyously ahead. So often when I went out to sketch, he seemed to know of my intentions. He would sit at my side and watch very solemnly as I put pencil to paper. As reward, I often included him.

  My track led across the Haggis Knowe, also known as the Fairies Knowe, with its superb view, of the Old Town, Holyrood Palace and St Margaret's Loch.

  St Anthony's Chapel came into view steeply some two hundred feet below us. On the path leading up from the road was an ancient well, once famed for its healing powers. These were allegedly very reliable on the first Sunday in May, Beltane - the pagan and Christian religions seemed to coexist in this area.

  The chapel was built in the fifteenth century, its dedication suggesting that it was once connected to a hospital for those afflicted with 'St Anthony's Fire' as erysipelas was commonly known. Tradition claimed that it was founded to guard the holy well and supported a hermit to tend the altar. His duties included lighting the lamp which shone through the night guiding mariners through the treacherous waters of the River Forth.

  All that remains of the ancient chapel is a picturesque ruin. Lit by a magnificent sky of rosy sunset clouds, a worthy painting for Olivia - if I could hope to do it justice.

  I sat on a boulder overlooking the scene, took out my sketchbook. This time, I wasn't to have Thane's company. Sniffing the air, he barked, a muted 'Woof', and loped away.

  Looking around I failed to see anything that could have given him this quiver of excitement. The scent of deer, perhaps? I didn't have long to wonder as he reappeared.

  'Woof!'

  'Too late, were you? Pity. Sit down, this won't take long.'

  'Woof!' Deeper now, more urgent. He seized the edge of my skirt gently and tugged. The cause of his agitation was invisible but I was familiar with the note of distress in his bark.

  'All right, I'll come.'

  Gathering my pencils with a sigh I went after him somewhat reluctantly as he darted ahead, loping down through the heather, then turning and rushing firmly back to my side. Making sure that I was doing what he wanted...

  I could see nothing amiss. 'What is it -what have you found?'

  A dead animal? Hardly. A buried treasure? Surely not. I didn't expect him to understand the human greed for lost gold...

  'Woof.' Once more, he turned to make sure that I was with him and disappeared behind the one remaining chapel wall.

  I scrambled down the last few yards and into the ruin.

  And there on the ground, her back against the wall, a woman sprawled apparently asleep.

  Asleep or - dead. She looked crumpled enough to be dead.

  I shuddered as I approached. Kneeling down, I touched her shoulder gently, praying that she was asleep or had fainted. There was no response.

  ‘Hello! Hello, are you all right?’

  Even as I said the words I knew the silence mocked me. She was in profile; I turned her face towards me. Her eyelids were half closed, her face a greyish colour.

  As I bent down to loosen the scarf tight about her neck, there was a faint smell lingering about her. Not perfume nor incense - something indefinable, which I did not recognise until I encountered it unexpectedly much later.

  My main concern was for a pulse. There was none.

  I sat back on my heels. She was dead. I had seen too many dead by violence to be mistaken.

  This poor woman had been strangled with her scarf.

  And death had happened very recently.

  Which indicated that whoever had done this must still be in the vicinity - perhaps close by!

  Trembling I stood up, looked over my shoulder, chillingly aware that with a killer not far off, perhaps watching from behind the boulders above me, my own life was in imminent danger.

  I seemed to be alone. Indeed I seemed to have the whole of Arthur’s Seat to myself, towering and majestic in the glowing light.

  I needed help. I am no hysterical woman to faint at the sight of death. I’d been at the site of an Apache massacre and barely escaped with my life a year ago.

  I looked at the dead woman again. This was murder. Of that there was no doubt in my mind. Again I glanced round nervously for someone, a sinister watcher, hidden in the rocks.

  I wanted to yell, to shout accusingly, ‘Come out. I can see you.’ I was aware of Thane standing very close, touching my side, shivering slightly.

  He knew danger and death when he saw them. If only Jack were here, I thought longingly, suddenly practical and searching for a reticule, something that might provide the dead woman with an identity. There was nothing. If she had died from natural causes then that was suspicious in itself.

  I stared down the hill. The road below was already deep in shadow, the dramatic sunset glow had disappeared from the high rocks behind me, the hill turned cold and forbidding as the twilight of gloaming faded into darkness.

  I had the landscape to myself and uneasily I realized that on an autumn day when the weather on Arthur’s Seat had been atrocious, there would be few passers-by in carriages or casual strollers out with a dog.

  But how I would have welcomed the sight of another human being. I knew what I must do...

  I must inform the police. I looked again at the woman. She wa
s perhaps thirty-five. The plain face, worries in life indicated by a furrowed brow, was pallid in death. Her dark hair was pulled back from a centre parting, gathered into a neat bun from which some of the strands had escaped, perhaps in her struggle with the killer. But her garments were undisturbed - which hinted at decorum even in death. She had not been the victim of sexual assault or rape.

  Glimpses of a starched white petticoat, lace-edged, a dark blue serge costume, white high-necked cambric blouse, a row of imitation pearl buttons, neatly fastened. Black cotton stockings and boots rather shabby but well polished.

  Not a well-off lady’s outdoor garb, especially as there was no sign of a hat anywhere. That omission was odd since most women whatever their station in life wore hats out of doors. Her clothes were clean, neat and respectable, well cared for.

  An upstairs servant, or a lower middle-class wife. And there were plenty to choose from to fit her description in the new villa area of Newington.

  No gloves and no rings. I lifted her hands carefully, remembering how Pappa had always stressed the importance of examining hands.

  I shuddered a little as the hands I touched were colder than her face had been. White and dead, but uncalloused with well-kept nails. A seamstress or a shop assistant. She certainly hadn’t scrubbed floors for a living.

  I was glad of the sketchbook and did a quick drawing, just as she lay, with the chapel wall behind her.

  As I finished it, Thane was on the move again, darting down the hill, heading for the road.

  ‘Thane! Come back!’ I called to him, panicked.

  I didn’t want to be left alone. Maybe he had seen someone, I thought hopefully as I ran after him and saw the reason for his sudden flight.

  Below us the road was not empty after all. Pointing in the direction of the Tower stood a hackney cab. It was stationary but must have been there for some time, or I would have heard the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves.

  There was no driver in sight - on this unfrequented road with plenty of boulders, not an unusual occurrence. Coachmen after putting down a fare often seized the opportunity to stop and, concealed by the bushes, attend to the needs of nature.

  ‘Having a quick one,’ as Jack rudely described it.

  A deep-throated growl from Thane. A warning ‘Woof!’

  And there on the road walking in our direction was the best sight in the world for me at that moment.

  A helmet and uniform cape.

  An Edinburgh policeman on his beat.

  ‘Wait,’ I called and leaped down the last few yards.

  But Thane was already there, running round him in circles, barking.

  That got the constable’s attention. When I reached him he was being confronted by Thane and at a loss as to how to deal with the situation, holding out his hands defensively.

  I was surprised and gratified he hadn’t resorted to using his truncheon on the massive deerhound who had appeared from nowhere and was calculated to put the fear of death into even the fearless heart of an officer of the law.

  He heard my footsteps, turned and shouted, ‘Call off your dog, miss.’

  ‘It’s all right. He won’t harm you,’ I called.

  As I reached him, Thane came to my side, sat down and looked at the constable with an air of triumph.

  ‘Thank goodness we’ve found you,’ I gasped.

  Still keeping a wary eye on Thane, he asked, ‘What’s the trouble, miss?’

  ‘We’ve just found a body - a woman, up by the chapel.’

  He looked at me impassively, as if I was mad, and asked quietly, ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  He nodded and said, ‘Are you sure, miss?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. Look, come with me and see for yourself.’

  He seemed a little reluctant. Now that I got a closer look, I could see that he was quite young - in fact his face looked still too young to have grown the heavy grey and somewhat elderly moustache.

  I must be getting old, I thought, when policemen start looking younger.

  He must be new to the force, I decided. As, with Thane in the lead, we climbed up to the ruined chapel I saw that he hadn’t been issued with the ugly but serviceable uniform boots yet, nor the even more serviceable truncheon.

  The dead woman was still there and the young constable didn’t say a word. He just stood very still, looking down at her with what I can only describe as considerable distaste and revulsion. Obviously he didn’t want to touch her but, aware of my stern gaze and what was expected of him, he knelt at her side, touched her wrist and dropped it hastily.

  In the background I sighed. A lily-livered lad who would not go far. Death by strangulation was a fairly clean-cut murder, wait until he came upon the gruesome kind, with lots of blood.

  He stood up, shaking a little.

  ‘I’m afraid she’s dead.’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s been murdered,’ I said.

  He looked at me quickly, asked sharply, ‘What makes you say that, miss?’

  ‘Look at the scarf around her neck. She’s been strangled.’

  ‘The scarf’s loose.’

  ‘I did that, trying to find her pulse, hoping I wasn’t too late. But someone had tied it tight enough to kill her.’

  He gave me a tight-lipped look. ‘Well, we’ll see when we get her to the mortuary.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’ I asked, remembering police procedure. ‘Aren’t you supposed to wait and touch nothing until a senior officer arrives?’

  He seemed amused and surprised by my knowledge.

  ‘Why would that be, miss?’ he asked, humouring me.

  I shrugged. ‘Clues to her killer - that sort of thing.’

  ‘But we don’t know for sure that she’s been murdered, do we, miss?’

  We stared at one another indecisively and I said, ‘Do you want me to stay until you get someone?’ I hoped not. It was a bold offer but as soon as I got the words out I was wishing I had not volunteered. By the time he came back, it would be black dark and even with Thane I didn’t fancy sitting in the old chapel guarding a corpse.

  The constable was impressed by my offer. ‘You’re not scared, miss?’

  ‘I’ve seen dead people before.’

  ‘Have you now?’ He looked interested, as if he’d like to hear more about that.

  I pointed down towards the road. ‘I noticed a cab down there.’

  He nodded. 'So I saw.'

  'You didn't happen to notice a driver?'

  He smiled. 'That's all right, miss. I know him. He does a bit of rabbiting. There's a lot of them about when it's getting dusk.'

  We walked back down to the road. When we reached it he saluted me gravely. 'You can be off now, miss. I'll do the necessary. And thanks for your help,' he added politely.

  The closed carriage was still unattended. We both stared at it.

  'I'll get Charlie to take a message to the station, for the ambulance wagon. No need for you to worry any more about it,' he added smoothly. 'I'm sure there'll be a simple explanation.'

  'Simple!' I gasped. 'Is that what you call murder?'

  He gave me a pitying smile. 'We don't know that, miss,' he repeated. 'Until we get the body examined. So if you'll excuse me, I'll look for Charlie.'

  'You'll need my name as a witness, won't you,' I reminded him as gently as I could.

  'Oh yes, of course.' He began searching his pockets. 'Dammit, I had my notebook - I must have dropped it on the way down!' He pointed vaguely towards the chapel. 'You just tell me, miss, and I'll write it down when I get it back.'

  I tore a sheet out of my sketchbook, wrote it down firmly. He read it carefully and said, 'You live as near as that, miss? Ah well, no need to see you safe home.'

  'My dog will do that, constable.'

  He gave Thane a hard look. 'We'll be in touch if we need you, miss.'

  The usual beat constable, Lenny, knew Jack well and I was tempted to say. Don't bother, my young man is a detective sergeant.<
br />
  I don't know why I restrained myself from giving that piece of information, except a sense of propriety. I didn't think Jack would want my name bandied around the constables, with appropriate nudges and winks.

  'You're new on this beat, constable. What's your name?'

  He seemed taken aback by this request. 'Smith, miss. PC Smith.'

  'And your division number?'

  'A654.'

  'You're new to Edinburgh?'

  'Yes.' And anxious to be on his way, saluting me once again, he said goodnight and disappeared over the edge of the hill, calling, 'Charlie - Charlie, are you there?'

  Thane looked all set to follow him. I called him back and he came with me reluctantly, occasionally stopping in his tracks as we made our way back across the hill to the Tower in the darkness.

  What was wrong with him? His behaviour was as strange as PC Smith's. Why not use his whistle to attract Charlie, for heaven's sake? What an incompetent, I thought, losing his notebook and being on his beat without even a truncheon. What was the Edinburgh City Police coming to? Pappa would never have tolerated such behaviour. As for Jack, a stickler for efficiency... I shook my head sadly. Well, we all have to make mistakes and make allowances for beginners.

  I'd keep my comments to myself. I didn't want to get the raw young constable into trouble.

  Chapter Four

  We had almost reached the Tower when I heard the sound of an approaching carriage on the road below. It was too dark to see clearly, and for a moment I thought it must be Charlie driving in the wrong direction.

  Then the swinging lantern halted outside the Tower. I ran through the garden and to my delight the door opened and the passenger who descended was Jack, grinning at me.

  At the sight of him, Thane loped off up the hill with a look in my direction that said, You'll be all right now. You're in safe hands.

  Jack watched him go. 'Walking the dog, were you? Good job I caught you. Well, are you ready to go to the concert?'

  I stared at him. 'I thought you were on a case. You sent a message.'

  'Inspector Grey let me off. He knows I'm a music lover,' he said mockingly. Telling the cabbie to wait, he followed me indoors. Closing the door, he kissed me.