“He was the devil,” Donnie said. “He put a curse on her and she died. I thought I killed her, but I never touched her.”
“I know that, lad. This is what I believe happened,” Rex told the officers. “Beardsley slipped out of the living room by one of the windows. He knew there was a ladder in the stable because he had gone in there at the beginning of the evening to feed the pony some oats. But Donnie had beaten him to it. He followed Donnie up the ladder and listened in on the conversation. When Donnie rushed out of the bathroom on to the landing, Beardsley jumped in through the open window, forced Moira’s head under the water before she could react, and locked the door before bundling her body through the window and following after her.”
Rex nodded to himself as he finished piecing the puzzle together. “He guessed the boy would ultimately get the blame, so he helpfully pinpointed the time he threw the body out of the window, which was just minutes after Donnie had left. All he had to do after disposing of the corpse was creep back into the living room and pretend he’d been awoken by the sound. He thought he would never be found out because no one but Moira knew about his past, and there was nothing to link him to her murder. Donnie, on the other hand, had put the ladder beneath the window and had a reason to get Moira oot of the way. So Flora could be with Alistair.”
“Would Beardsley not have noticed the face in the mirror and worried that Donnie had seen it and might say something?” Inspector Strickler asked. “Why not kill the boy as well?”
“He is a serial killer, after all,” his partner added. “Or did the steam evaporate by the time he entered, so the face wasna visible?”
“I believe he did try to kill him,” Rex informed them. “He must have been nervous the boy would say something. He set up that trap in the stable to guillotine him. But we’d need prints to prove it, and it’s doubtful Beardsley would have left any.”
“We’ll put SOCO on it.” Strickler looked Donnie over and sighed. “I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Graves, since you seem to have all the answers. But you’ll have to give a complete statement to the chief inspector. And the boy must stay at home under the supervision of his parents in the meantime.”
Shona nodded and babbled words of thanks. Then she dragged Donnie back down to the lodge before the policemen could change their minds. With a shrug and a wave, Dawes and Strickler got back inside their vehicle and drove off.
“I was right worried,” Flora said as she accompanied Rex down the road. “I thought Donnie had killed the poor woman so I could have Alistair all to myself.”
“I should have thought it through more carefully,” Rex apologized, “but I was up against the clock. I’m sorry to have put your family through all that.”
“Is it true that Alistair is … you know … ?”
“Aye. I only just found oot myself. But there are plenty more fish in the sea.” Rex smiled sadly as he remembered Moira telling him that very thing last night.
“Och, well, I suppose I’ll be too busy over at the hotel dealing with all the publicity to have much time for romance.”
“You might want to take advantage of the media coverage to try and exonerate yourself for wee Amy’s death.”
“How do you mean?”
“The reporters will be all over Loch Lochy, taking pictures of where Beardsley was staying at the time he abducted and murdered his fourth victim. Mrs. Farquharson was right. The newspeople will want to know every last detail regarding your notorious guest. You might as well explain how Beardsley stayed at the hotel two years ago, unknown to you, and enticed the lass into the loch.”
Flora slowed down on the road, head bowed in thought. “You’re right. But you know, I should have been paying closer attention to Amy. I’ll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”
“Talking about your life, perhaps you should think about getting away and leading your own life, Flora.”
“I was considering art college. Aye, I shall go away,” she said dreamily. “But not so far that I can’t visit Donnie regularly.” She tucked her arm in his as they proceeded down the wet path. “Thanks, Mr. Graves.”
Rex shut himself in the library, preparing himself mentally for the phone call he knew he must make to his mother in Edinburgh. Outside in the hall, he heard the scrapes and thuds of suitcases being moved. He really should help Mrs. Farquharson with the luggage, he thought, since Cuthbert was not supposed to put any weight on his ankle, but Alistair and his new medic friend were there, and he really needed to get this conversation out of the way.
Mrs. Graves answered on the third ring in her refined Edinburgh accent. “How did the housewarming party go?” she inquired. “Did Helen use the lace doilies I made for her?”
“Aye,” Rex lied. “I wish you could have been here, but under the circumstances, it’s better you weren’t.”
“Och, it’s a long way, and ye know I don’t travel well … What do ye mean, it’s better I wasna there?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.
“Some rather disturbing news, I’m afraid. Moira Wilcox arrived unexpectedly and, well, she was murdered. Mother?” he said when she didn’t answer. “Are you there?”
“What was she doing at Gleneagle Lodge?”
“She gatecrashed the party. I believe Miss Bird may have told her where to find me.”
“Oh, dear. But, Reginald, how was she murdered?”
“Did you hear aboot the Moor Murders?”
His mother rarely watched the news or read a paper. She said she found it too depressing.
“Aye, we were discussing it at our bridge game this afternoon,” she replied. “I told Elspeth and Winkie that the police force should put my son on the case so he could catch the evil killer and put him behind bars.”
Rex cleared his throat. “It so happens I did catch the killer. He was staying at the Loch Lochy Hotel and accompanied the Aller-dice family to the party.”
His mother let out a small scream. “Ye had a child murderer in the house? Did he kill Moira?”
“It seems she recognized him from years back, and he drowned her in the bath.”
“That’s terrible. How is Helen taking all this?”
“She’s bearing up well. She’s a tough lass.”
“I really like Helen. I hope all this murder ye get involved in will not put her off being wi’ ye.”
“I’ll call you later when I have more time, Mother. What I needed to ask you was if you could arrange the service for Moira. Most of her friends are from the Charitable Ladies of Morningside. I’m not sure what will happen aboot the funeral. I suppose it depends on whether we can locate her father in Glasgow and when her body will be released.”
Rex knew there was nothing his mother and her charitable lady friends enjoyed more than arranging a funeral. They would hold a flower committee, a readings committee, and a refreshments committee, and any other committee they could dream up.
After managing to extricate himself from the phone—his mother eager to hear all the details to relay to her friends—he went to attend to his guests. “My mother sends her regards,” he told the Farquharsons. “And sympathizes with your ordeal.”
“Nonsense,” Estelle replied. “We had a ball. It really was very exciting, especially when you knocked Beardsley unconscious. I’m just sorry about Moira, naturally.”
Alistair wrapped an arm around Rex’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You were fantastic. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m sorry I missed all the action,” John, the young medic, said with a seductive smile at Alistair.
After depositing Cuthbert safely in the Land Rover and issuing instructions to Mrs. Farquharson regarding proper care for the ankle, John took Alistair off to the pub for a drink. The Allerdices climbed into their van and drove away up the hill, ready to face the media onslaught at the hotel, while a cheerful Donnie set off cross-country with Honey.
“I will never get on a horse,” Rex said, waving them off. “They are the scariest of al
l God’s creatures. I must suffer from acute hippophobia.”
Helen laughed. “It’s hard to imagine you on horseback,” she agreed.
The sun peeped out between gray-tinged clouds, brightening up the landscape in a final effort before evening, and reviving Rex’s spirits. “Alone at last,” he said, watching the last of the vehicles disappear from sight. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Not quite,” Helen replied, looking up the road, where a battered gray van was cresting the hill toward them.
Shielding his eyes, Rex squinted at it. “Well, I’ll be …It’s the McCallum brothers come to fix the radiator.”
“Wonders will never cease.”
“Och, I’ll never get a chance to give you this, it seems. Best open it now.” He delved into his pocket and handed Helen a small blue velvet box, which he had purchased in Edinburgh and been planning to give her over the weekend at a propitious moment.
“What is it?” she asked, cornflower blue eyes flashing up at him in excitement.
“Open it and see.”
“Oh! Rex, you didn’t!” she said snapping open the box.
Inside, embedded in navy moiré silk, sparkled a diamond ring, its setting in the shape of a heart.
the end
About the Author
Born in Bloomington, Indiana, and now residing permanently in Florida, C. S. Challinor was educated in Scotland and England, and holds a joint honors degree in Latin and French from the University of Kent, Canterbury, as well as a diploma in Russian from the Pushkin Institute in Moscow. She has traveled extensively and enjoys discovering new territory for her novels.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title_Page
Copyright
Cast_of_Characters
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
About_the_Author
Murder on the Moor Page 16
