Murder on the Moor

by C. S. Challinor

  Hamish’s countenance darkened. “So?”

  “She sounded a wee bit upset.”

  “She was leading me on earlier. I dinna know why she would suddenly get so agitated.”

  “There are boundaries, Hamish. Approaching a woman in her dressing gown might leave her feeling a bit vulnerable.”

  “Look, I dinna know what happened to your ex-girlfriend. She slammed the door in my face. I was worried she would make a scene, so I just left.”

  “You did not sound too happy aboot it.”

  “Do you like rejection?” Hamish asked with a scowl.

  “I tend to avoid getting into situations where I might get rejected.”

  Hamish’s body seemed to implode as he sank back in the chair. “Aye, well. ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ as they say.”

  “I need to ask you aboot an argument you had with your wife this morning.”

  “She told you?” Hamish expostulated.

  “Helen heard you.”

  “Is this placed bugged? There’s no bloody privacy!” Hamish paused a beat before resuming. “It was aboot something that happened a long time ago. It’s not relevant to your ex-girlfriend’s murder.”

  “I need all the facts, if only to be able to eliminate them. Do you have any secrets you keep from your wife?”

  “Shona?”

  “Is there another wife?”

  Hamish glared at him. “Of course not! I only meant, why should I keep any secrets from her?”

  “She may keep some from you.”

  “Like the smoking, you mean?”

  “You know?”

  “Aye.”

  “Wouldn’t it be simpler if you just told her you knew?”

  “If she thought I condoned her habit, she’d just smoke more, and we canna afford it.”

  Rex wondered what bad habit of his own Hamish indulged in to make him tolerate his wife’s aberration.

  “Look,” the hotelier said with a sigh. “My wife’s right upset aboot Moira. We had a drowning in our loch a couple of summers ago, if you must know. A wee lass at the hotel.”

  Rex glanced up from his spiral notebook and studied the heavy face in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I didna want to bring it up as it’s not the sort of thing you want to broadcast. The parents were in the sauna at the time. You know how bairns are. She wandered away from the person supposed to be minding her and waded into the loch. She’d been talking aboot the magic dragon. She was right fascinated wi’ the idea of a fantastical monster living in the water.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Six or seven.” Hamish wrung his hands. “It was an accident, but all the same … Terrible publicity at the time. It’s a godsend there’s renewed interest in the Loch Lochy Monster. Rob Roy has promised not to allude to the drowning.”

  “This was the subject of the argument between you and your wife?”

  “Aye. Well, it’s a long story.” Hamish scratched his sandpaper stubble. “Will that be all?”

  “Just one other thing. Did you need to get more coal for the heater in the stable?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just wondered if Donnie was warm enough last night.”

  “Och, he was snug as a bug in a rug. Plenty warm enough.”

  Interesting that Hamish had not taken the bait, Rex noted in his pad. “Thank you. I’ll talk to Shona now.”

  Hamish rose abruptly from the dining table. “Please treat her with kid gloves. She had a nervous breakdown two years ago. I’m worried this might set her off again.”

  Rex sat back in the uncomfortable Queen Anne style chair, which the interior designer had recommended and which he had been gullible enough to buy. He should, in retrospect, have let Helen choose the furnishings, but he had been afraid of being dragged around furniture shops and asked for opinions that would never be listened to anyway. So much easier to present her with the finished product so they could get on with the business of enjoying the house.

  Obviously, that was not going to be this weekend.

  “You wanted to see me?” Shona asked timidly from the doorway.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Rex said bouncing up from the table and pulling out a chair for her. “Would you like some water?”

  “Och, no, I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry to bring up something upsetting that happened two years ago, but Hamish said you were troubled by the situation with Moira in view of that event …”

  Crossing her arms, Shona rubbed the sleeves of her homespun sweater as though she might be cold. Finally she nodded and began to speak. “When your friend was found in the loch this morning, it all came flooding back. That wee lass that drowned in our loch was brought out of the water in her father’s arms. He dove in after her but it was too late.” Mrs. Allerdice dried away a tear with her woolen cuff. “He blamed us, but it wasna Flora’s fault. She was only nineteen at the time and was doing them a favour, looking after their bairn while they were gallivanting in the sauna.”

  “What happened exactly?”

  “The wee lass was building a sand castle on the strip of shoreline, which we call the beach. Flora was sunbathing and reading a magazine. One of our other guests, a young American, went over to talk to her and, well, that’s when Amy took off. Her father spotted her from his bedroom window and tried to attract Flora’s attention. He rushed down to the loch and swam out to the spot where he had last seen the child.”

  “What a tragedy.” Rex comfortingly squeezed Shona’s wrist across the table.

  “Flora was devastated. There had been a budding relationship between her and the American—Brad, a young architect from Boston. But it was never the same after that. Things became strained and, in any case, he had to fly home the following week. He never contacted her. Flora was verra disappointed.”

  “Were there other guests staying at the hotel?”

  “Aye, we had a full house that June. None of them ever came back. It was the parents’ fault for not taking care of the bairn themselves,” Shona declared bitterly. “It wasna Flora’s job.”

  “So you are hoping to deflect interest away from that incident by promoting the Lizzie of Loch Lochy story.” Rex almost said “hoax” but stopped himself just in time. “And Rob Roy is proving instrumental in this project.”

  “Well, aye,” Shona said, brightening up. “He’s verra serious about this article he’s writing. Yesterday he went to take photographs from the far side of the loch, aboot ten miles to the south, where old Cameron saw Lizzie.”

  “Did he walk?”

  “Aye, he came up from Glasgow by train. I packed him some egg sandwiches, crisps, and an orange, since he said he would not be back for lunch. He saw some ripples in the water, but wasna able to get a picture.”

  Rex shook his head in sympathy. “It’s a right elusive creature, isn’t it?” Then, “It looks like Rob Roy might be playing court to Flora,” he added tentatively.

  “Och, no. At any rate, I don’t think Flora is interested.”

  “You don’t approve of Rob Roy?”

  “Well,” Shona replied in a lowered voice. “I dinna think he has much money. He’s a nice young man, but Flora could do better. In fact, since you bring it up, that’s what Hamish and I were in disagreement aboot this morning. He thinks I have unrealistic expectations regarding Flora’s future. He said the romance between our daughter and the architect from Boston was all in my head—and hers. He spoke to Brad regarding his intentions, he said, and the lad acted cool and surprised. But men often don’t have a clue aboot these things.”

  “Quite,” Rex said in a noncommittal tone. “Going back to Moira’s death—and I regret making you dwell on it—did you notice anything unusual last night, either in the way people were behaving or perhaps later, when everybody had gone to bed? You might have remembered something …”

  Shona sighed and looked around the room for inspiration. Apparently she found none, for she drew her thin lips together u
ntil they were mere lines in her face and shook her head resolutely. “I wish I could help. I mean, other than your friend flirting with all the men …”

  “You mean Moira?”

  “Oh, aye, not Helen. She would never do that to you. She loves and respects you. That’s obvious.”

  Rex pondered this. Did that mean Shona did not think Moira had loved and respected him? Since they were no longer together, it did not much matter whether she had or not—though had she not still loved him, would she have chased after him to Florida and then to the Highlands?

  Gazing upon Shona’s downcast face, it suddenly dawned on him. She was drawing a comparison between Hamish and Moira. She was suggesting that her husband could not love or respect her or else he wouldn’t make a pass at every attractive woman within grasp. But, according to Helen, Moira had been trying to make him jealous.

  “All right, hen,” he said kindly. “I’ll just have a word with Flora, and Donnie when he returns, and then you can get back to the hotel as soon as we get your van fixed.” Presumably the police would arrive before then.

  “What aboot Rob Roy?”

  “You can wait for him or else he can walk back after I’ve spoken to him. He has his walking boots and it’s only four miles as the crow flies.”

  Shona slipped out of her chair and called to Flora. The girl sidled into the room and her mother closed the door softly between them.

  “I want to be here when you question Donnie,” Flora told Rex. “He’ll only clam up if I’m not.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’ll be around somewhere. He prefers the outdoors to being cooped up in a house.”

  “Of course you can sit in when I talk to him. I can see how close the two of you are.”

  Appeased, Flora took a chair. “My dad said the two of you discussed the drowning back at the hotel two summers ago.”

  “He wanted me to be aware of the situation before I talked to your mother, so as not to upset her.”

  “It was awful,” Flora said. “It affected everyone.”

  “Who else was on the beach at the time?”

  “I was there with Brad.” Flora swallowed with difficulty. “I was distracted.”

  Rex poured her a glass of water. She was rather a plain lass, he decided, but with a bit of effort, she could have been attractive. Her features were pleasant enough and her dreamy eyes, pale and gray as mist, lent her face a certain wistfulness.

  “I was supposed to keep an eye on Amy for part of the morning,” she explained. “My mother begged me to. I’d planned to spend time with Brad since he was leaving to go back to the States the following week. He’d talked about visiting Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness and asked if I would come along as a tour guide.”

  Rex didn’t think “tour guide” sounded very romantic on the part of a suitor, but tried to keep his expression neutral.

  “My mother said it was good for business if I did a spot of free babysitting. She said I could visit the castle with Brad another time and not to seem so eager. When he came up to me and started talking, I forgot all about Amy.”

  “Were you and Brad the only two adults on the beach?”

  “It’s not really a beach, just a slip of sand along the loch. There was a couple from the hotel, but they were facing the hotel. They didn’t see anything.”

  “What about Donnie?”

  “He was roe deer stalking that day. He started as a ghillie when he was fourteen. Why is the drowning at our hotel relevant to Moira’s murder?”

  “The drowning at Loch Lochy may not be relevant at all. What happened afterwards?”

  Flora folded her arms into her chest. “It was ruled an accident. Eventually the press went away. Brad never wrote or called. I was heartbroken about the whole thing. I think he blamed me for Amy’s death. He didna know she was supposed to be in my care. I could actually blame him. If he hadna stopped on the beach, I would have been paying attention to her.”

  “Do you plan to stay on at your parents’ hotel?”

  “I wish I could leave. I was about to go off to university when the accident happened. But I was too depressed afterwards. I decided to wait a year. And, well, I’m still here—as you can see.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me more aboot the shadow you saw on the stairs last night?”

  Flora shifted in her chair. “I’ve already told you.”

  “Was the person going up or down the stairs?”

  “Down—no, up. I told you, I canna remember.”

  “Can you recall what sort of knife? Was it a kitchen knife or perhaps a hunting knife like Donnie keeps in a sheath on his belt—?”

  “No! And now that I think aboot it, I dinna think it can have been a knife. It wasna sharp, but it was long.”

  “A hunting rifle?”

  Flora gazed right into his eyes. “I think so. And just so you know, Donnie doesn’t have a rifle. Dad won’t let him keep one.”

  “There’s only one person here who owns a gun, as far as I know,” Rex told her, wondering what was keeping Cuthbert. He needed to ask Mr. Farquharson how long he had been talking to Moira at the bathroom door and what had been said. Helen had crept up on him as he was listening at the foot of the stairs and he hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation.

  “One more question,” he told Flora. “Are you sure it was half past twelve when you saw this person?”

  “Aye, I believe so. Can I go now?”

  Rex nodded and thanked her. “Could you ask Mrs. Farquharson to step in?”

  Rex made a note in his pad and underlined it. He was sure the girl was lying.

  Estelle popped in as soon as Flora opened the door. “I was waiting in line,” she told Rex, striding into the dining room. “Is this the hot seat?” she asked, pulling out the chair Flora had vacated.

  “Sit anywhere you like.”

  Estelle plunked herself down on the Queen Anne chair and propped her arms on the table, regarding him expectantly. “Shoot.”

  “Well, ehm, let me see.” Rex perused the notes in his pad. “I can’t recall if you said you had reason to go downstairs after you went to bed last night.”

  “I think I may. I usually have to get up at least once in the night, especially if I’ve had a lot of alcohol to drink. I have what is commonly known as an overactive bladder.”

  “I had that problem myself awhile back. It turned out to be an enlarged prostate. So, you think you may have gone downstairs at some point.”

  “Yes, pretty certain I did, actually.”

  “But you have no idea when?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Presumably you tried the upstairs bathroom first?”

  Estelle nodded. “Must have found it occupied.”

  “Were you wearing your dressing gown?”

  “I’m sure I was, dear man! Though I did have my nightie on underneath.”

  “Were you carrying anything?”

  Estelle leaned forward across the table. “What on earth are you suggesting? That I was the shadow Flora saw on the stairs?”

  “It fits your description, if you were wearing your curlers. She thought you might have been holding a rifle.”

  “Didn’t she say a knife? And, anyway, wasn’t the rifle in the room with the leaky radiator? Cuthbert said you retrieved it from the cupboard this morning.”

  “That’s where I put it yesterday afternoon, out of harm’s way.”

  “You didn’t hide it very well. Usually Bertie can’t find anything.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to hide it, exactly. I just did not want your husband using it on my land. I happen to believe in the sacredness of life.”

  “Nonsense,” Estelle said affably. “I’m sure you eat beef and pork and all the rest of it. Don’t think for a minute they’re slaughtered in a more humane way.”

  “In any case,” Rex resumed. “That room wasn’t supposed to be used. Then Moira turned up and everybody ended up staying because of the rainstorm, and I had to p
ut Mr. and Mrs. Allerdice in there.”

  “Well, perhaps it was one of them on the stairs with the gun, though I have to say I can’t picture Shona with a rifle. Such a tame little thing. More likely her brute of a husband.”

  “Flora said something about Gorgon-like hair. Hamish is slightly lacking in that department.”

  “Perhaps he had something over his head to keep off the rain.”

  This was something Rex had not considered.

  “Are you going to be questioning your friend Alistair?” she asked.

  “I already spoke to him at length before lunch. Why?”

  “Well, there’s something a bit secretive about him. Now, I know he’s a colleague of yours, but he seems rather mopey and brooding, in a Heathcliff sort of way, if you follow my drift. Devilishly handsome, of course. No wonder the women swoon over him. I just think there might be something going on there.”

  Not what you might think, Rex said to himself, unwilling to out Alistair. Changing tack, he asked, “I saw that there was coal dust on your shoes, and I’m curious as to how it got there.”

  “You know very well,” Mrs. Farquharson reprimanded. “I went to the coal shed to see what you were doing. I must have stood in some.”

  “I might simply have been fetching coal,” Rex told her.

  “But you didn’t come back with any, so I followed you up the stairs.”

  “And you gave away my secret about Helen’s surprise.”

  “Oh, dear. Did that feckless Allerdice woman spill the beans?”

  “She is one to gossip, Estelle. I cannot imagine why you told her.”

  “Mea culpa. She gave me her word she wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Her word did not prove to be of much value,” Rex said pointedly. Estelle’s neither.

  “Oh, did she tell Helen?”

  “Aye.” Rex glared at her from beneath profuse ginger eyebrows, a look he used to good effect in court when confronted by a recalcitrant witness.

  “My dear man, I feel horrible. Shona somehow managed to wheedle it out of me. She thought we were discussing Alistair.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “Because he’s a friend of yours and he has been acting a bit strangely. He seemed fine last night and then today he’s been morose and hasn’t spoken two words to Flora.”