Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

‘Veronika and Natalja were thrilled,’ said Mrs Koloman. ‘At some point they had considered taking care of things themselves, silly as it sounds. Veronika even told me once that she might marry someone who could look after the vineyards. To keep it all within the family, as it has always been.’ She placed a hand on her husband’s knee. ‘I’m sorry, Konrad, I never told you this.’

  His frown was deep. ‘I told the girls I did not want to parade them for marriage as if they were cattle in a market! When was that?’

  ‘About a year ago.’

  ‘Minerva, Minerva, you should have told me. I would have talked to her.’

  ‘Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter any more, does it? Now that Benjamin will be here?’

  I thought she was far too hasty in assuming the boy would be capable – or willing – to take charge, but I said nothing.

  Mr Koloman took a deep breath. ‘We can talk about that later, Minerva. Mr Frey, do you have any more questions? Dinner must be nearly ready. I hope you will join us. We can resume our conversation then.’

  ‘Oh, Ian will be glad,’ said Uncle Maurice, and then went on babbling nonsense about the wine, which I did not care to listen to. I was mulling over the situation.

  ‘Mr Koloman,’ I interrupted, ‘do you have more brothers and sisters?’

  ‘I had a younger sister, but she sadly died many years ago.’

  I nodded. ‘So I suppose Benjamin is to inherit half of everything I can see?’

  ‘Well, yes ...

  ‘And your half of the estate will ultimately have to be divided between your three children? So they’ll each own a sixth, while Benjamin, effectively a stranger, will own half?’

  The Kolomans went silent, looking terribly uncomfortable, as if suddenly sitting on thorns rather than velvet. The lady seemed particularly affected, gripping her glass so tightly I thought she might crush it.

  ‘I have reason to doubt your children are as happy to welcome Benjamin to the family as you might think,’ I said, not really expecting a reply. I finally picked up my glass and had a little taste.

  Uncle Maurice was right. It was smooth, yet rich in flavour and scent: one of those wines one can drink and drink and only realize one’s had too much when it is too late. I felt a wave of warmth as I savoured the liquor, like a boost to my mood.

  ‘What about your eldest son?’ I asked. ‘What is his name again?’

  ‘Dominik,’ said Mrs Koloman.

  ‘How did he take the news?’

  The woman became sombre. ‘I . . . I do not know. He is in Norway now. I telegrammed him but he never replied.’ She saw my expression and her brow rose. ‘Which is not at all unusual for him. As my husband told you –’

  The door opened and Miss Fletcher came in. She was pale and her hands trembled.

  ‘Sir, Ma’am, they’re here! Inspector McGray, and . . . Benjamin.’ She swallowed. ‘And they’ve come with Master Dominik.’

  10

  Poolewe, at the western end of Loch Maree, 20 August, 4:05 p.m.

  ’More sodding herrings!’ McGray had cried the previous night, when the deck boy put the plate on the table. He had soaked them in milk and added spices, which only worsened McGray’s seasickness. As he gulped them down he pledged never to eat the blasted fish again.

  Dominik made the trip all the worse. He was simply insufferable, forever smoking, sipping his ‘family wine’, and telling jokes and stories with a good humour that nobody on board, except that Calcraft rogue, shared. Benjamin had not laughed or smiled, or even pretended to pay attention to his cousin; he simply ate his meal quickly and excused himself. McGray followed, and they went to a shared cabin. Thankfully Benjamin slept most of the trip (or pretended to) and Dominik did not come around to nag, so McGray was free to nurse his queasiness.

  He was only too glad to see the small port of Poolewe appear in the distance, and he was the first man to jump to the ground as soon as the steamer had docked. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, still feeling the sway of the water.

  When McGray looked again Dominik had planted himself right in front of him, a sardonic smile on his face.

  ‘That is a nasty Achilles heel,’ he said, pulling out his little Bible to roll himself a cigarette.

  ‘Och, go f–’

  ‘Mr Dominik!’ somebody shouted in the distance. It was a very beefy sailor, bald and shiny with perspiration. ‘Welcome back, sir! How lucky you are. You missed the sun.’

  He laughed and pointed at the sky, covered with clumps of dark cloud that seemed to have clustered only around the port.

  ‘It was quite miserable where I last docked too,’ said Dominik, lighting up his cigarette. ‘Foul weather seems to follow me.’

  The man laughed far more loudly than the comment merited. He nodded at the hired coach that was being speedily loaded with trunks, crates and barrels from Dominik’s ship. ‘Sir, we have quite a few parcels for your parents and sisters, but I’m afraid Miss Fletcher hasn’t come for a while.’

  ‘The dainty miss is busy,’ said Calcraft, dragging a hefty trunk.

  Dominik looked around, perhaps to see if Benjamin had heard, and then giggled.

  ‘We’ll see she comes soon,’ said Dominik. ‘We don’t want to clog up your storerooms.’

  ‘That’s no problem, sir,’ said the sailor. ‘I only thought there might be things that could, you know, go bad.’

  ‘Oh, no, I am taking care of that,’ said Dominik, and just as he spoke a small barrel rolled from the roof of the coach and crashed on to the pebbled street. Its lid went flying and hundreds of bright lemons spilled all around.

  ‘Watch those barrels, you stupid brats!’ Dominik shouted, suddenly red with anger, and he tossed his barely smoked cigarette into the water.

  The young footmen could not have apologized more fervently.

  ‘Let me help them,’ the sailor said, rushing over. ‘We’re all waiting eagerly for Mrs Plunket’s famous curd.’

  As they meticulously gathered up every single piece of fruit, Dominik stood proudly, his hands on his lapels, looking every inch the lord of Poolewe.

  The locals were certainly dazzled by his presence. Another two men approached to greet him, a few others waved from the distance, and anyone who walked past either bowed or asked him to give their regards to his parents.

  ‘Youse are popular,’ McGray had to admit.

  ‘Indeed. We have brought good business to this port for decades. You will understand when we get home. My grandfather imported tons of granite to build our manor. My father is partial to exotic woods and plants; ten years ago or so he had thirty-five giant rhododendrons brought from Nepal. And my mother is the closest these people have to a decent physician; she runs a little school too, in the autumn months, when the children are not needed in the fields.’

  Benjamin disembarked then, clutching his meagre luggage and refusing Calcraft’s help.

  His cousin grinned. ‘Ben, you are going to adore this little port. Would you like me to introduce you to –’

  But Benjamin didn’t stop. He simply took his seat in the carriage, looking grim. Dominik chuckled, tearing another page from his Bible.

  McGray sighed. ‘Give him time. He’s been through a lot.’

  Dominik ran his tongue in a leisurely way along the paper, and rolled the tobacco with utmost care. ‘Haven’t we all?’

  McGray had to laugh at that. What hardships could that arrogant, spoiled, rich chap have had to endure?

  ‘And,’ McGray spoke loud enough for Calcraft to hear, ‘ye should make sure yer servants show some respect. Things seem to have changed.’

  Dominik turned on McGray the most annoying smile, his eyes challenging. ‘A few things will never change. Mark my words.’

  And without waiting for a reply he jumped into the coach, smiling sardonically at his cousin. McGray could not help thinking of a marauding wolf, salivating just before jumping on its prey.

  PART 2

  . . . as surely as I live, declares
the Lord God, I wil prepare you for blood, and blood shall pursue you . . .

  Ezekiel 35:6

  11

  Miss Fletcher could not stop wringing her leather gloves as we waited in the entrance hall. I’d agreed to keep quiet about the priest’s death, at least momentarily, but only because she was already overwhelmed. The poor woman was about to meet her son for the first time in years, perfectly aware that the boy was never to know the truth. I thought it a silly charade, but there was nothing I could do; it was a family matter.

  Mr and Mrs Koloman had told Miss Fletcher she did not need to be present, but she had, at least for now, ignored the suggestion.

  ‘Sixteen years is a long time,’ I whispered.

  ‘It feels like a century,’ she said, and Mrs Koloman held her hand.

  ‘We saw the carriages coming!’ said Veronika, rushing down the stairs with her sister. They had changed, but these dresses were even more indecent than before: again they were made of very thin, flowing silk, which followed the natural shapes of the girls’ bodies; the garments were held by straps as fine as threads, leaving bare shoulders and a licentious amount of bosom. Veronika wore dark red and Natalja a bottle green that looked nearly black.

  Uncle Maurice rushed to the stairs and again kissed Miss Veronika’s hand. Natalja quickened her pace, albeit with a sideways smile. I could tell she was leaving the coast clear for her sister.

  ‘Do you like my dress, Mr Plantard?’ Veronika asked. ‘I designed it myself.’

  ‘It is absolutely ravishing,’ he said, his eyes nowhere near the fabric. ‘You are very talented.’

  Natalja stood next to me, her eyes fixed on the main door. I knew I ought to say something but I was paralysed like an anxious child; I could not help feeling as if she were walking around in the nude.

  ‘Very . . .’ I gulped, ‘very unusual style, I must admit.’

  ‘We believe the dress should not outshine what lies underneath,’ said Veronika, now arm in arm with Uncle.

  Outshine? I echoed in my head. I looked at Mr and Mrs Koloman, who did not seem to notice my discomfort and definitely did not give a second thought to their daughters’ impudence.

  Boyde, the solid manservant, opened the door then, letting in a draught of cool air from the gardens (modesty forbids me to say how, but I knew the twins felt a little too cold).

  A large carriage had just halted, followed by a cart loaded with a mountain of trunks and barrels of all sizes.

  I instantly recognized Dominik, who had the same height and general poise of his father, and then McGray jumped off the carriage with a sluggishness that was very rare for him.

  In fact, Nine-Nails looked ghastly (not that he is ever a model of elegance). His stubble was particularly scruffy, his eyes quite reddened, and his skin had a sickly hint of green. He helped a spindly boy down, and Natalja at once brought a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Gosh, it’s as though Uncle Maximilian has come back to life!’

  She was the first one to step forward, smiling, and waited just a few feet from the threshold. It was McGray, rather than Dominik, who gently pushed the boy’s back to guide him in.

  Natalja reached for her cousin’s hand, and placed the other on his cheek. Benjamin blushed intensely, but then also smiled and they embraced. It was an instant connection; words were not needed.

  Mr and Mrs Koloman whispered to each other and they also approached the boy.

  ‘Welcome, Benjamin!’ said Mr Koloman, shaking the boy’s hand so effusively Benjamin’s entire body quaked.

  Only then did Dominik approach, and I watched his every move without blinking.

  ‘Ben, this is my father, your Uncle Konrad. And your Aunt Minerva.’ He smiled and seemed courteous enough, but his entire countenance had an air of falseness I have seen countless times at the London ballrooms. He poked Benjamin on the shoulder. ‘And I see you have already met your cousin Natalja. That’s spelled with a j.’

  The very instant Dominik touched Benjamin, Miss Fletcher jolted. I noticed even though she had retreated to a corner of the hall, and my eyes went alternately from her to Benjamin. Seeing them in the same room, it was obvious that he was her son. He might look like the Kolomans, but he also had her freckles, her height and her bright-blue eyes. This was not something they could keep quiet for long, and was likely to become one of those open secrets so common amongst the upper classes. I went to her, feeling her sorrow.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked her. She tried to assent, but could not even do that, and simply turned on her heel and quit the hall. I looked back at Benjamin, who’d not noticed her presence at all. My eyes then fell on Dominik’s manservant, who was bringing in a large trunk. The man, clearly a weather-beaten sailor, was staring at Miss Fletcher as she walked away. He chuckled without shame.

  ‘Go, go and greet your cousin,’ Uncle Maurice told Veronika, whose eyes were also following Miss Fletcher. The girl answered something in French I did not catch, and then joined her family as they clustered around Benjamin.

  ‘They look like a happy lot,’ Uncle said. Veronika was just standing on tiptoes to kiss Benjamin on the cheek, and Mr Koloman was joking about the boy’s remarkable height.

  ‘Indeed,’ I muttered. ‘They look happy.’

  ‘Oh, Ian, is this your boss?’

  McGray had walked around the family and was approaching us. Uncle had recognized the four-fingered hand I’d mentioned in so many letters.

  ‘We’ve loads o’ work to do, Percy,’ McGray told me joylessly. His frown deepened when he saw Uncle Maurice. Nine-Nails was about to say something but Uncle went first, drawing back his torso as if dodging a blow.

  ‘Ian, what in the good name of God is this man wearing?’

  McGray went a little greener. ‘Och, what d’ye

  Uncle winced. ‘He looks as though he was gobbled up by a bagpipe that then exploded from the indigestion!’

  ‘I’ll make ye gobble yer –’

  ‘Or as if he’d attempted to dress as the jester to Mary Queen of Scots but could not be bothered to go all the way through with it.’

  McGray closed his right fist. I took a step aside.

  ‘It could be worse, I suppose,’ Uncle concluded. ‘For instance, he could be Welsh.’

  McGray threw a mighty blow, but Uncle Maurice, who had devoted his life to nothing but hunting and fencing, dodged it with enviable reflexes. McGray threw a second punch, this time stumbling forward, but Uncle ducked it just as easily.

  Nine-Nails looked befuddled like never before, and I did a very poor job of concealing my amusement.

  ‘Och, fuck off! Both o’ youse!’

  I cleared my throat to drown a snigger. ‘McGray, my uncle, Maurice Plantard. Uncle, Adolphus Nine-Nails McGray.’ They did not shake hands. ‘McGray, are you ill? You look like you just swallowed a mouthful of curdled milk.’

  ‘Seasickness,’ said Dominik from afar. ‘One of the worst cases I have seen.’

  Mrs Koloman came over to us. ‘Is that so? Poor Mr McGray! Let me offer you an aperitif. That always settles my husband’s stomach.’

  Nine-Nails nodded. ‘Thanks, missus. Could ye also show us somewhere quiet? I’ve a lot to discuss with my measly colleague. In private.’

  ‘Of course. Millie will –’ She realized Miss Fletcher had vanished. ‘Oh, I am so sorry.’

  The muscly young man who had opened the door came up immediately. He had a childlike face and seemed very solicitous, but he brought with him an odd smell, a mixture of chemicals and strong body odour. ‘May I help you, ma’am?’

  Mrs Koloman smiled. ‘Yes, Boyde, show the inspectors to the astronomy parlour. And ask Mrs Glenister to bring them some ginger liqueur.’

  ‘Right away, ma’am,’ he said, before giving a deep bow.

  ‘I suppose you do not need me now,’ said Uncle, sliding across the room to rejoin Miss Veronika. I heard her introduce him to Benjamin like one does an old family friend.

  Boyde approached and bade us to fo
llow him, but I hesitated, realizing we’d be leaving Benjamin unsupervised. I saw the family encircling him, all of them smiling and welcoming, but there was something in that picture I did not like. I could not tell what, however.

  ‘I don’t think the laddie’s under threat,’ said McGray, noticing my concern. ‘At least, not right now.’

  I did not take my sight from the group as we ascended. The only eyes that met mine were Natalja’s.

  If one wanted to have a private conversation, the astronomy parlour was the ideal place. It was a wide room on the top floor at the easternmost end of the manor, running right across the building and with three dormer windows, so that one could look at the skies to the south, north and east without obstruction. I paced nervously as McGray recounted the priest’s death in detail.

  He’d just finished the tale when Boyde returned, bringing a silver tray. He made to pour the drinks but I took the decanter from him. ‘We can manage ourselves, thank you very much.’

  ‘Or course, sir. Mrs Plunket, our cook, sent you some savoury biscuits. She says they’re good for seasickness too.’

  He bowed and left. McGray ignored the biscuits and went straight to the liquor, though he looked at the tiny cut-glass tumbler with a wrinkled nose. In his hands it looked like a thimble.

  ‘Are you sure that man, Constable McLachlan, was reliable?’ I asked him.

  ‘As reliable as they come. I’m sure he’ll keep us well informed.’

  ‘Good. We should keep an eye on the correspondence.’

  I then told McGray how the family’s estate would be divided. It was just as he had guessed.

  ‘So we both suspect the lad Dominik?’ he asked.

  ‘Indeed. As much as I’d like to keep my mind open, he is the natural suspect. And this tale of him returning from Norway at the right time to pick up Benjamin seems a little too convenient to me.’ I placed a hand on one of four shining telescopes. ‘If he orchestrated the murder – as you said, leaving his ship offshore – then his manservant, that Calcraft man, is his accomplice.’

  ‘He might have even done the dirty work for his master,’ said McGray. ‘We really must keep an eye on the laddie. What do ye think o’ the parents? Konrad and . . . ?’