Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  ‘Dominik Koloman,’ the young man said effusively, offering his hand to shake. McGray and McLachlan introduced themselves mechanically. ‘And you must be my cousin!’

  He saluted Benjamin with an unexpected embrace, patting his back vigorously and then placing the top hat on the boy’s head. He then grasped Benjamin’s shoulders and shook him with affection. ‘Good Lord, you do look a Koloman!’

  The resemblance was all too clear. They both had the exact same shade of blond hair, the same shape of the jaw, the same brow; but Dominik also looked entirely different. His raised chin, proud chest and perfectly groomed hair were in stark contrast with Benjamin’s freckles and frayed woollen jumper. And Benjamin looked bedazzled, clearly wishing to push his new-found cousin away. At once he took off the hat and handed it back.

  McLachlan asked the question in everybody’s mind. ‘Mr Koloman, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I had a telegram from my mother, my good man.’ He winked at McGray with condescension. ‘That would be Mrs Minerva Koloman to you. She wrote to tell me the news about my cousin. I was spending the summer in Stavanger’ – another wink – ‘that’s in Norway’ He turned to Benjamin. ‘I must take you there some day, cousin. Astonishing port. Outstanding landscapes.’ Then he turned back to McLachlan. ‘My mother told me Benjamin lived in Thurso and might be in need of transportation, so I thought I would shorten my trip and take him home with me.’

  McGray was studying the man and his rough servant with an arched brow.

  ‘When did youse arrive?’

  ‘Why, minutes ago,’ Dominik replied with a grin. ‘That’s how I know the ferry to Poolewe has just left. The man who runs them is a very old friend of the family. He supplies my parents with all manner of goods. He recognized my humble vessel and came to greet us – quite hurriedly, for he was already delayed.’ He squeezed Benjamin’s shoulders again.

  ‘We heard what happened, cousin. This entire town is talking of nothing else. I am so sorry, Ben.’

  But there was something in his tone that made the condolences sound silly, a cheerfulness and nonchalance the young man could not fully repress. McGray had heard that careless note many times from Edinburgh’s young gentry.

  He stared at Dominik for a second, recalling the dark shape he’d seen the night before on the river, rushing towards the sea.

  ‘Laddie,’ he said to Benjamin, ‘do ye mind giving us a minute?’

  The boy did not reply; he simply stepped back and went into the house, a little too eager to get out of view.

  Dominik gave him a rather condescending look. ‘Oh, my poor young cousin must be utterly –’

  ‘When did ye hear about him?’ McGray interrupted.

  Dominik looked McGray up and down, still smiling, but it seemed as though his jaw had frozen. ‘I believe I received the telegram about a week ago.’

  ‘I need ye to tell me the exact date.’

  Dominik widened his smile. ‘Might I know why?’

  ‘Nae, just answer.’

  ‘I do not recall the exact day but I still have my mother’s telegram. You are welcome to look at it if you need to.’

  ‘Yer mother tells you about the laddie, and then ye jump on yer boat here to pick him up?’

  ‘You are an extraordinary listener, sir! Indeed, that is precisely what I have just said.’

  ‘A week is very quick to travel from Norway.’

  ‘Oh, Calcraft here moves across the North Sea as if it were a walk in Les Tuileries. That’s in France.’

  Calcraft simply nodded, casting McGray a look of derision. He had all the appearance of a sailor coarsened by the sea and the elements, and all the arrogance of a captain who can’t stand talking to his petty passengers.

  ‘Is that true?’ McGray asked him.

  Calcraft sneered. ‘Are you doubting my skills or my master’s word?’

  McGray’s chest swelled and Dominik had to raise a conciliatory hand. ‘Oh, do, do excuse my man. His excellent skills more than compensate for his curtness.’

  As he spoke, Dominik produced a small pocket Bible and opened it. McGray thought he was about to recite a psalm, but instead Dominik tore out a page, produced a little pouch of tobacco and began rolling himself a cigarette. He noticed the men’s befuddled look.

  ‘Why, where are my manners? Do you want one?’

  ‘Nae. Thanks, laddie. I spoke to the priest yesterday. He kent nothing about –’

  ‘I beg your pardon – he what?’

  McGray snorted. ‘He knew nothing about yer arrival.’

  ‘Oh, of course not! I told nobody. I simply realized Thurso was on my way and thought it would be a jolly good surprise to meet my cousin and take him home myself.’

  ‘Aye, a jolly good surprise,’ McGray mocked. ‘Are ye in the habit of throwing bricks?’

  Dominik looked totally confused. ‘I . . . well, I don’t really know what you mean. I enjoyed skimming pebbles as a child, if that helps you.’

  And he smiled as widely as possible, his Bible-paper cigarette between his teeth.

  McLachlan made just one discreet note.

  ‘May I ask you,’ Dominik said, ‘how long you intend to stay in Thurso? Are you to take care of the investigations?’

  ‘I might,’ said McGray.

  ‘Well, we are planning to sail this afternoon. I have my own paddle steamer, you see. I could take my cousin with me . . . whilst you investigate?’

  McGray chuckled. He’d never leave Benjamin alone with this arrogant bag of slime.

  ‘Thanks, but nae. He’s been entrusted to me. Can ye wait a couple o’ days?’

  Dominik shook his head. ‘I know you have your work to do here, but I have a cargo that will spoil. I must set off today.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait ‘til the next ferry.’

  ‘They only run once a week,’ Dominik warned.

  ‘Shite! Is that true?’

  ‘That is true,’ said McLachlan.

  ‘And I’m afraid the railways don’t go that far west,’ Dominik added. ‘You might try a stagecoach but the roads in this part of Scotland are shockingly medieval. The journey would take you three or four days – that is, assuming everything goes smoothly. Your best choice is to wait a week for the boat.’

  McGray snorted in frustration. ‘What time are ye leaving?’

  ‘Five o’clock, at the latest. So that we can be home tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘All right. Ye’ll see us at the dock if I decide we go with youse. Now sod off.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to introduce myself properly to my cousin. We barely exchanged two words just now and my mother and father have always told me –’

  McGray cast him a murderous stare, and Dominik simply bowed and left.

  McLachlan came closer. ‘Do you suspect that man?’

  ‘A conceited, condescending, possibly jealous relative? Of course I suspect him. I can picture the rascal rubbing his sissy hands, anticipating his childless uncle would leave him tons o’ gold – and now this wee chap is in his way.’

  Are you not speculating a little too far?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve dealt a fair bit with those upper classes. I ken how they think.’

  And regarding the logistics of the murder . . .’

  ‘He could’ve kept his steamship offshore, sent someone here on a wee boat to do his dirty work and then pretended he’s just arrived.’

  ‘Cumbersome but plausible. Will you take his offer and go with him?’

  ‘I’d rather not; there’s something dubious about him. Then again, a week’s a bloody long wait. I have other businesses to attend in Loch Maree, and my colleague’s likely to be there by tomorrow noon.’

  ‘It is not absolutely essential that you stay around. I will carry on the investigations here; after all, this is my jurisdiction, and I have the resources.’

  ‘Ye sure?’

  McLachlan nodded. ‘In all honesty, I’d rather you took the boy away as soon as possible. If he was the ultimate
target and the killer is still at large, the last thing we want is to keep him here.’

  McGray bit his lip. McLachlan had told him exactly what he wanted to hear; he could not wait to reach Loch Maree and talk to that Miss Fletcher. But that was his wish, and in the past he had dragged innocent people into deadly situations because of his personal crusades. He would not allow himself to make that mistake again.

  ‘If the attacker is still here, we’ll find him,’ McLachlan assured him. ‘This is not a big town, and everyone here was fond of Father Thomas. People will help us. And you might find crucial details in Loch Maree.’

  McGray sighed. He must make up his mind, and very soon. He ended up kicking a few crushed carrots.

  ‘I’ll need ye to telegram any progress,’ he told McLachlan reluctantly. ‘Frequent updates if possible. That place is as remote as the seventh gate o’ hell. Like that brat said, there arenae railways, and it’s a ten-mile journey to the nearest settlement in either direction.’

  ‘Rest assured, Inspector. And I’ll ask you to take good care of that boy. Everyone in Thurso who appreciated Father Thomas will thank you.’ It was all too clear that McLachlan, dispassionate though he was, counted himself amongst them.

  McGray smiled jadedly. ‘Youse might end up cursing my name for evermore.’

  9

  Loch Maree, 20 August, 7:05 p.m.

  ‘Promise you will tell me everything, Mr Frey,’ Miss Fletcher pressed, her thick hand still grasping the door’s handle. ‘Please.’

  ‘If there is anything in that telegram that you have the right to know, I shall make sure you do,’ was my diplomatic answer, and we stepped into the Kolomans’ most lavish room. I could devote pages and pages to it – in fact I could have spent weeks in there, discovering its secrets one by one. It was a long gallery with domed ceilings and wrought-iron chandeliers, and it was crammed with all manner of scientific artefacts, musical instruments and works of art. The walls were almost entirely lined with books, and the few spaces between the shelves were filled with either tapestries or oil paintings – no family portraits, I noticed. I must simply mention that there was a grand piano, a brass barometer, several red velvet seats, and that the wide fireplace was the most imposing feature in the room. Its mantelpiece was of solid granite with no carvings, and the hearth was loaded with coal and ready to be lit. Above it there was a strange artefact that resembled a clock, but it had sixteen marks instead of twelve, and only one hand, whose position was not even close to the present hour.

  As I had predicted, the windows offered a breathtaking view of Loch Maree (unlike in the Shadows Room, here the heavy damask curtains were open). I recognized the lines of pine trees growing on Juniper Island, and the imposing mountains further away. Their craggy granite rocks, perhaps of the same stone used to build the manor, contrasted with the smooth grass that coated their slopes. The tops of the mountains were now crowned by grey clouds that had crawled in swiftly from the west; only a few small dots of blue sky were still visible.

  By the window there was a thin brass telescope on a polished tripod. It was not the instrument itself that fixed my attention, but the hand that rested on it, boasting a thick golden ring with a large ruby.

  There was Mr Koloman, staring at the landscape with dreamy eyes. He was not particularly tall, but his thin figure and long legs made him appear so. His blond hair was abundant with only a few white strands, just like his perfectly trimmed goatee. With his immaculately fitting black suit and his elegant pose, he much reminded me of an old portrait of the Austrian emperor.

  ‘Good evening, Inspector Frey.’

  It was not he who spoke but his wife, who had just emerged from behind the grand piano. I guessed she’d not been playing music but reading the telegram that still was in her hand. I saw she had crumpled the paper.

  In the now dim sunlight, the first I saw of her was the twinkle of her jewellery: the dark red of garnet beads and silver around her slender neck. Unlike the twins, she did wear a corset, her hourglass figure hugged by a long fitted jacket worn over matching silk skirts. I’d seen my stepmother wearing a similar attire last month, which meant Mrs Koloman was dressed in London’s latest fashion. I recognized in her the beautiful blue eyes of the daughters, only her features were not as soft: her jaw was a little more angular, her nose a little sharper. And with very thin wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, her general countenance was rather stern.

  We bowed to her and I made the introductions.

  ‘We are so glad you accepted our invitation,’ said Mr Koloman as we shook hands. ‘It is a shame we could not meet under more peaceful circumstances.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said and then looked at the message. ‘Have you just received bad news?’

  Mrs Koloman nodded. ‘Yes. I suggested we conceal it from Millie – Miss Fletcher. Though I know she must be told soon. You see, we’ve been told that Father Thomas, the priest who raised my nephew, has died.’

  My eyes opened wider.

  ‘In “very alarming circumstances", according to the telegram,’ said her husband. ‘Please, gentlemen, join us for a glass of wine. I took the liberty of having your drinks brought here.’

  Uncle Maurice and I sat on velvet armchairs, Mr and Mrs Koloman on a long sofa, and the lady poured us a very dark wine. The smell, strong and perfumed, really tempted me, but there was so much to discuss I would not touch my glass for a while.

  ‘My colleague might have heard about it,’ I said. ‘Inspector McGray telegrammed me saying he intended to arrive in Thurso on the eighteenth.’

  ‘Inspector McGray apparently witnessed the entire affair,’ said Mr Koloman, ‘and was partly involved in the investigations. He is to tell us the details when he arrives. All we know for sure is that Father Thomas, sadly, was murdered.’

  Uncle choked on the wine, and I was glad I’d not picked mine up or I’d have spilled it on the Persian rugs.

  ‘Miss Fletcher receives a death threat against the boy,’ I said, ‘and now his guardian has been murdered! Do you realize how serious this is?’

  Mrs Koloman reached for her husband’s hand. ‘We do. And I am terribly frightened.’

  I leaned forward. ‘Mr and Mrs Koloman –’

  ‘Please, call us Konrad and Minerva,’ said the lady.

  I bit my lip. ‘I’d rather we keep a certain degree of formality between us, given the job I must do. I need to look at these happenings from every angle and consider every possibility, no matter how remote. Do you understand?’

  They were sharp enough. ‘You think the threat might have come from within our family,’ said Mr Koloman. ‘It is natural you should suspect that, but I can assure you that that is impossible. Absolutely impossible.’

  ‘So it might be, but I need you to tell me everything about your family. And I do mean everything.’

  ‘You need but ask,’ said Mrs Koloman.

  I looked at her husband. ‘I understand the late Maximilian Koloman, Benjamin’s father, was your younger brother.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said.

  ‘And as such I assume he owned a share of this estate.’

  ‘Yes, and of the family vineyard in Bohemia.’

  ‘You should definitely try our wine,’ said Mrs Koloman. ‘Our Moravian grapes are excellent.’

  ‘She is not lying,’ said Uncle, swirling his glass and basking in the bouquet.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said impatiently. ‘I will in a minute. Now, tell me, who would have inherited his share? If Benjamin had not been in line, of course.’

  Mr Koloman allowed himself a sip of wine. ‘My poor brother was not of a fastidious nature. He had not made a will. It was only a few days before his death that he made us fetch a solicitor and put things in order.’

  ‘And I heard he had no wife or . . . legitimate offspring,’ I said.

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘So, legally, in the absence of a formal will, his estate would have gone to his nearest kin – that is you, Mr Koloman.’

 
His nod was almost imperceptible. ‘Yes.’

  A tense hush fell upon us, and I let it go on. The first person to speak can be very telling sometimes.

  ‘Oh, this is excellent!’ said Uncle Maurice, his nose stuck into his glass. ‘Full-bodied yet very easy on the palate. It reminds me a little of a Bordeaux, or a very strong Italian.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Uncle, do you mind?’ But he was too entranced to care. I looked back at the Kolomans. ‘You would have inherited that share. Would you have liked that?’

  He clearly understood what I meant. ‘I already managed his share of the estates. I have for years, since our father passed away. I managed Maximilian’s lands, his three townhouses on the Continent, his taxes, his income – everything.’

  ‘So you might have felt as though it was . . . already yours?’

  ‘Inspector, I’ll be direct. I have no interest in increasing my own personal wealth. You might have noticed that I am by no means short of capital.’

  ‘So you welcomed your brother’s rushed will?’

  ‘Of course I did! And Minerva too. Our own children are not likely to take charge of the business. Dominik, our eldest, very much took after his uncle. He travels all around Europe all the time. He is incredibly smart, but responsibility is not his strongest suit, and he cannot stand more than a few weeks in the same surroundings. And our daughters, clever and keen as they are, are still women, and unfortunately this is not a woman’s world.’

  ‘Not in business anyway,’ Mrs Koloman said with clear bitterness.

  ‘I’d always assumed they’d hire an overseer to manage the estates when I’m gone. Now I hear that Benjamin is a very accomplished young man, well read and good with numbers. We even heard that the late Father Thomas wanted him to take over his parochial duties. He seems perfect to continue my work. I told Maximilian so, just as he signed the new will favouring Benjamin.’

  ‘How did your children receive the news?’ I asked.