Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery)

by Alanna Knight

  'Incidentally, Jack, did she look like the drawing I made?'

  'What drawing?'

  'Jack, the one I did of the dead woman at St Anthony's Chapel.'

  He shrugged. 'Well - yes - near enough. Perhaps. But in case you're new to this aspect of mortality, people who have been immersed in the sea for twenty-four hours undergo quite a rapid transformation.'

  After he left I sat down at the table with my logbook, and reading it over did not give me any satisfaction.

  If the drowned woman wasn't Nora Marks nor Miss Simms, as far as I was concerned the case was closed or I had better carry my search further afield.

  Of one thing I was certain, I would never rest until I had solved the mystery of her disappearance and proved to Jack Macmerry that I had not imagined the dead woman, and until I had proved beyond all doubt the identity of the bogus PC Smith.

  A mysterious hiring carriage had been in the vicinity. But what of Charlie, supposed coachman? Did he exist?

  There was only one way to find out.

  I had noticed, while riding my bicycle up and down the Pleasance, a sign in St Mary's Street, advertising 'Coaches for Hire, Vehicles Repaired', and I had made a special note of it in the hope that vehicles included bicycles, should that buckled wheel, still rather unsteady despite Jack's efforts, need replacing.

  I had an excuse and the establishment seemed worth investigating.

  I went inside expecting a seedy-looking interior. But instead there was a counter, a potted plant of generous proportions and a glass door leading to an office and bearing the words: 'Felix Micklan. Prop.'

  I rang the bell on the counter and a well-groomed gentleman of thirty-five or so emerged. His appearance exuded an air of prosperity. It hinted that business, like the potted plant, was flourishing.

  He looked me over very shrewdly before bowing, obviously a quick guess at the stratum of Edinburgh society I represented. Satisfied he said, 'Good day, madam. You wish to hire a carriage?'

  I decided not to mention the bicycle. 'I would like a brougham for the day. It is for my fiancé's birthday and we are to celebrate our engagement with a drive - possibly to East Lothian.'

  His expression developed into a barely concealed smirk. I guessed his mind was racing well ahead and he knew exactly what engaged couples got up to in the country in hired carriages.

  I gave him a date a month ahead. He made a note of it, quoted a price which would have cut nicely into my savings had my enquiry been genuine. As he politely escorted me to the door I was desperately considering some way of obtaining the vital information which was the reason for my visit.

  'I presume you hire many broughams and gigs and that you would provide coachmen if required.'

  'Yes, we have a modest team available.'

  'How interesting. My fiancé was recommended that he should ask for Charlie.'

  He bowed slightly. 'I fear the gentleman was mistaken. We have no coachman by that name.'

  'Then it must have been some other firm. But I was sure this was the one he named in the Pleasance.'

  'Definitely not in this area. We do all the private hiring here. That is why it is more expensive having a cab without a coachman - we have to know that our clients are competent and reliable.'

  What were his feelings about this particular client as he watched me ride off on my bicycle? I hadn't the heart to mention repairs to the wheel and I was more than a little depressed.

  No body, no hiring gig and no Charlie.

  Should I pursue the subject? Return to Mr Micklan and reveal my identity and ask him for a list of clients?

  I doubted somehow from the man I had met that he would be sympathetic to my quest, especially as gentlemen who hired carriages, and for more genial and less sinister purposes than murder, preferred to drive themselves.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nancy was becoming a constant visitor. She arrived over the hill breathless, clutching her bonnet against the wind.

  'Rose - I have an invitation for you. If you're free this afternoon - about five - the General and Lady Carthew would like you to come to Tessa's fireworks party.'

  Pausing, she looked at me proudly. 'Isn't that delightful?'

  Delightful perhaps, although I had little taste in fireworks that were loud bangs, since loud bangs and smells of gunpowder would always be associated in my mind with less innocent and bloodier memories of Arizona rather than childhood days in Sheridan Place.

  'You have made a great impression on Tessa - and Torquil too. Apparently they asked their uncle if that nice lady from the Tower might come to Tessa's party.'

  I agreed, feeling rather flattered as I had not gone out of my way in the least to appear like a nice lady to the children. All I seemed to recall was being rather stern with them, I thought, as I went upstairs to see what would be appropriate presents.

  There was a small turquoise bracelet, a present from Olivia which I had never worn, but what for Torquil? Then I had it. In the bookcase there were two model soldiers from the Napoleonic wars, perfect for a small boy.

  Suddenly I was looking forward to Tessa's party and, in particular, curious to see the inside of Carthew House and meet their aunt, Lady Carthew.

  Thane appeared at the kitchen door just as I was about to leave. I told him where I was going. He gave me an intelligent look. All it meant to him was yet another walk, and we set off together.

  It would have been perfect for such a leisurely pastime, a divine autumn day. Here and there the heath on the hill was garnished with the gold and red of distant clumps of bracken, and below us on the roadside, the splash of bright red elderberries.

  When we reached the lane leading off the hill to Carthew House, Thane stopped, looked cautious and disappointed. With what in a human would have been a shake of the head, he darted back the way we had come.

  It was fast growing dark and here and there blazing bonfires dotted the landscape. I crossed the stile, walked along the lane and reached the iron gate Nancy had told me to take. It led through the stables and round to the front door.

  There were lights already in the stables and as I walked across the cobbles a man was emerging. He raised his hat gallantly and greeted me: 'Good evening, ma'am.'

  I recognized Felix Micklan. Surprise was out of proportion to meeting him there, for what was more likely than that he had business at the Carthew stables. They could well afford his prices.

  I walked around the darkened house to the front door with its fine flight of stone steps guarded by a pair of bronze lions whose ferocity had seen more compelling days. On the circular drive, at a safe distance from the house but visible from the vantage point of the upstairs windows, a space for the bonfire had been cleared and two of the stable boys were busily setting up the fireworks display.

  Nancy was expecting me. As I crunched across the gravel she appeared at the door followed by Torquil and Tessa who ran down the steps and seized my hand eagerly as I was ushered into the hall.

  A handsome marble floor led across to a fine oak staircase and the upper regions. The walls were hung with portraits of long gone Carthews and a more recent painting of the uniformed General in full military splendour.

  The children, still holding my hands, led me into the sitting-room where the General stood smoking a cigar before the fire.

  'Here she is, Uncle.'

  The General smiled, bowed over my hand and said, 'Welcome.' And to the children: 'This nice lady and I have met before.' And to me: 'We are so glad you could join us. It is a rare treat for the children to have visitors and especially for Tessa on such an important occasion as her sixth birthday.'

  As he spoke, he touched the bell-pull. 'Now we are ready to proceed. The fireworks are all in place. Lead the way, Nanny.'

  'Are you all well wrapped up, children? Yes, Tessa, you must wear your scarf and bonnet, even if it is your birthday. You cannot go outside in a velvet dress.'

  This small mutiny quenched, we followed her into the garden.

  Th
e General, walking at my side, said, 'Unfortunately Lady Carthew won't be able to come outside. It is too cold and we have to watch her health just now. However, we had the bonfire arranged so that she may watch the fireworks from her window. See, up there!'

  He pointed and waved to a large bow window on the upper floor. I could see Lady Carthew, luxurious fair hair reflected against the light and a shawl around her shoulders.

  'Hello, my dear!' the General called to her.

  She waved to us and blew a kiss to the children who yelled a greeting.

  We settled, or rather huddled, close to the wall to keep out of the sudden chill wind.

  'Everyone has been invited,' said Nancy.

  Everyone, by which I gathered she meant the staff, was represented by Mrs Laing, the coachman Harry and the two stable lads.

  The bonfire was set alight but without the traditional guy. Perhaps the General felt this was too bloodthirsty for those of tender years. We all applauded and the sparks flew off into the dark, then it was the turn of the fireworks: Catherine wheels, Roman candles and finally a batch of rockets.

  It was all over too soon for the children, who were told that it was now time for their bed but first there would be a glass of milk and a piece of birthday cake baked specially by Mrs Laing.

  I had hoped to make the further acquaintance of the voluble and knowledgeable cook-housekeeper but, after a brief nod, she scurried off back to the kitchen, presumably to attend to preparing supper for the General and his lady.

  There were few presents for Tessa. Practical gloves from Nancy and a workbox from her aunt and uncle.

  The General smiled, watching her delight over the turquoise bracelet and fondly regarding Torquil playing solemnly with his Napoleonic soldiers.

  'Thank you for giving my niece and nephew so much pleasure, Mrs McQuinn, especially for remembering little Torquil. His birthday is next week and he can never quite forgive his sister for being entitled to the Bonfire Night fireworks for her celebration.'

  And looking at the boy fondly, he said, 'We have to watch him closely as he is not above stealing one or two of the crackers to have an independent birthday bonfire of his own. Gerald warned me that we have a young arsonist in the making.'

  I wondered why there were no presents from their father for the motherless children until the General said, 'The geological expedition is on the move and Gerald would be unable to buy presents for his little ones. But as soon as he returns to Scotland, he will be lavish as always with exciting gifts from distant places.'

  It was time for cutting the cake and I was disappointed that Lady Carthew didn't feel strong enough to descend the stairs and take part in this little ceremony.

  'Wishes, everyone!' said the General.

  I was sure that he must have wished for better health for his absent wife.

  'Tessa - Torquil. One, two, three - now! Blow!'

  We all applauded as the candles were extinguished with one breath.

  The General produced the sherry decanter and poured out three small glasses. For the grown-ups, he said, to keep out the cold. We talked trivialities and as soon as the cake was consumed, this was obviously the children's bedtime and time for their guest to take her leave.

  As I was about to do so, the General drew me aside. 'I have a matter of some importance I wish to discuss with you. Mrs McQuinn.' He glanced at the clock and continued, 'Unfortunately there is no time now as I am expecting a business acquaintance at any moment. However, would you be so good as to call again tomorrow afternoon - if that is convenient?'

  I couldn't think of any reason why it wasn't and the General said, 'Excellent. Shall we say three o'clock then?'

  And leading me back to Nancy and the children he kissed my hand and thanked me for coming, gesturing towards Torquil who bowed and Tessa who curtseyed nicely.

  'Lady Carthew has asked me to give you her special thanks and good wishes, Mrs McQuinn. She hopes she will be well enough to welcome you to our home on some other occasion. And now Nanny will see you to the gate.'

  Nancy thanked me for coming and hoped I thought it had been worthwhile. Apologizing for having to rush back to her charges, she said, 'I will be seeing you again - very soon, Rose. Now that the children have found the way to the Tower, and they like you so much, I fear I will never be able to keep them away.'

  It was very dark now, a few stars visible among fast-moving clouds. The bonfire was blazing steadily on the crown of the hill as I made my way towards the Tower.

  No Thane tonight, I feared. All this noisy human activity would keep him well out of sight. Rockets exploding and fireworks shooting up into the sky, destroying the peace of Arthur's Seat at night, would signal caution to a shy deerhound.

  Lighting the lamp, I conscientiously wrote up my logbook for the day including my visit to Felix Micklan.

  Laying the book aside, I had decided to have an early night when a scraping at the door announced Thane. I was so glad to see him, feeling that he had braved the activity on the hill to visit me. He settled down by the peat fire and I went back to Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Sometimes I talked to Thane and stroked his head.

  I felt warm and comfortable and so safe when he was in the kitchen with me, an unlikely guardian angel come to earth.

  Turning down the lamp, I left him sleeping by the hearth and went to bed, my last thoughts about the General and what he wanted that was of such importance.

  Was this of a professional nature? I thought it highly unlikely that a man so elevated in Edinburgh society would require the services of a discreet lady investigator.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Something wakened me.

  The sound of a carriage moving fast along the road. I had no idea what the time was; it was still dark beyond the windows and I suspected it must be the early hours of the morning.

  Unusual. It must be some emergency from Duddingston heading to Edinburgh by the fastest road. I was about to close my eyes and drift back into sleep-

  Sounds from downstairs. From outside the Tower.

  I sat up in bed.

  Thane? He could have got out through the back door.

  A loud baying bark penetrated up the spiral staircase to my bedroom. That was Thane.

  And something was seriously wrong. Seizing my robe, I ran down the stair. The kitchen was empty, the back door hung wide open.

  An icy wind blew across the floor.

  Thane was gone. But I could hear him baying, and I knew that sound of distress. It came from the front of the Tower and I ran through, opened the door and out on to the road.

  A flickering light - sunrise?

  No. I stared, bewildered.

  A fire. A fire, coming from the area of the ditch along the road where Rory sheltered.

  The light grew brighter, a shape running towards it, outlined in the darkness.

  'Thane!'

  I ran down the road after him. The light from the ditch was unmistakably a fierce blaze.

  But Thane was already there. As I ran I saw the huge shape of Thane dragging a lighted bundle on to the road.

  A guy from one of the bonfires-

  'Rory!' I screamed again.

  I ran faster. Within yards of the ditch were two flaming shapes together, a torch unrecognizable as a man and a dog.

  At that moment, there was a clap of thunder and above our heads the heavens opened. Never have I been so glad of torrential rain. Where there had been flames an instant earlier, there were now two bedraggled blackened shapes shrouded in smoke.

  Rory staggered forward. Alive, his face blackened, his old army cape still smouldering.

  I ran to him. Thane shivered by his side. Eyebrows singed, his silky coat blackened, but he managed one 'Woof', and a frantic tail-wagging.

  They were alive.

  'Thank God,' I said, 'thank God,' as I took Rory's arm. He looked dazed, shaking his head. 'I was asleep. I thought it was a nightmare.'

  'Are you hurt?' I asked.

  He stared at me. 'I dinna ke
n.'

  'Can you walk to the Tower?'

  'Aye, I can manage that,' he nodded and attempted to straighten his shoulders.

  'Wait, lass.' He walked back to the ditch, his hand on Thane like a blind man, staggering, and raked among the smouldering ashes. His few possessions were blackened beyond recognition.

  He stood very still, looking shrunken, lost and bewildered. Then he sniffed the air. 'D'ye smell onything, lass?'

  I sniffed. 'Whisky, isn't it?'

  'Aye, it is that,' he said grimly.

  I looked at him. 'You don't drink, Rory. What happened?'

  He seemed too numbed with shock to reply, standing there shaking his head from side to side over the ruins of his shelter.

  'You could have burnt to death,' I said, still horrified by what I had seen, and the implications of what I now knew. 'Someone tried to kill you.'

  He shook his head. 'But someone didn't succeed.' He patted the capacious pocket of his army cape, took out his bible and kissed it, a solemn gesture. 'This saved me, lass, and your dog,' and turning his palm outward he looked heavenward. 'And God's rain.'

  Conscious for the first time that I was soaking, wet hair streaming down my neck, I noticed that the torrential downpour had stopped as suddenly as it began.

  I shivered and looked towards the blackened ditch. 'Is there anything we can save for you?'

  'Nothing, lass. Your dog saved all I had - my life, for what it's worth.'

  I took his arm. 'Let's get indoors, I'll get us a hot drink.'

  Once inside, Rory cast aside his army cape, rescuing his old clay pipe from the pocket. It seemed a controlled gesture but his hands were shaking. I looked at him closely. Apart from most of the hair on his head and face being singed off, he seemed undamaged.

  Before blowing life into the peat fire and putting on the kettle to boil, I dried Thane's coat with an old towel, examining his head, his mouth and ears to make sure he hadn't been burned. He accepted my ministrations good-humouredly. Opening his mouth, he yawned as if to say, It's only on the surface, it'll grow out.