I walked towards the Tower with the resolution to wear my ring in future as well as improve my wardrobe, although these were the smallest of my problems.
Thane greeted me eagerly as I staggered into the kitchen, only wishing that his attributes included making a cup of tea. Drinking a glass of water as I swallowed the contents of the sachet, I noticed Jack’s note still on the table. At a time when I needed him most, he was not here.
My legs felt too weak and shaky to carry me much further and I regarded the spiral staircase with dismay. Thane was watching me anxiously and rushed to my side. He knew what was required of him as I clung on to his shoulder and eased my way step by step to the bedroom.
The sight of the bed was enough. Removing my outer garments, I had no further strength but to drag extra blankets from the press and lie down. Thane sat upright close to the bedside, alert like a nurse watching over a sick patient.
I patted him and whispered, ‘Take care of me.’ My last sight of him, as my eyes closed, was that oddly almost-human expression.
I felt dreadful, sure that I was going to die this time, as the fever carried me back in wakeful nightmare seven years ago to the Indian reservation in Arizona where I had waited in vain for Danny’s return. I had thought then that I would die. I survived, but not, alas, our infant son Daniel. Weak as I was, that bitter memory could still, as always, set the tears flowing.
I sobbed, helpless, conscious of Thane’s huge paw on the coverlet, his head on a level with my own, his gaze like that of an anxious parent. He normally slept on his rug, his place by my bedside when Jack was absent. When we were together he retired to the kitchen with almost human feelings of delicacy about invading our privacy.
Grateful for his presence now, I drifted away once more in the darkening room, a voice inside my head repeating, ‘Sleep and the fever will leave you – sleep.’
I have no idea how long I did just that, in a journey through nightmares and strange dreams, a tormented sleep. Once or twice I opened my eyes – Thane was still there; he had not moved. Asleep, his head now gently resting on the covers.
Once it was dark and I saw the stars gleaming through the window, then it was daylight, then darkness again. Still I slept, night came, and then one morning, which I later calculated must have been the third of my fever, I awoke feeling desperately hungry and thirsty.
Could I get out of bed? Was it too early and I too weak? I threw back the covers.
Thane had now retired to his rug; he sat up and watched me gulp down a glass of water, wagging his tail delightedly.
I smiled at him, patted his head and realised to my astonishment that I was feeling quite fit again. I had fully recovered. The fever had left me, not shaky and weak, but strong and completely restored.
As I walked downstairs, shadowed by Thane, my footsteps firm, I laughed. ‘I’m well again, Thane. Isn’t that amazing?’
He looked at me and seemed to smile with what in human terms could be described as indulgent satisfaction.
In that moment I guessed, or knew, the reason for my miraculously swift recovery. Thane. It was his voice I had heard, urging me to sleep; Thane, who miraculously had once again somehow acted as my protector. Strange magic indeed. I hugged Thane, whispered my thanks and set about boiling the kettle on that other miracle, a peat fire still smouldering after three days. Slowly I stirred into life. Bread, butter, eggs and cheese from the pantry, and my hunger appeased I noticed a note pushed through the front door.
From Jack, presumably delivered by one of his constables, while I lay inert upstairs. It was brief: ‘Sorry about the delay. Be home tomorrow.’
Tomorrow? Had that been yesterday or was it today? Now with a sudden yearning for fresh air and the sunshine that caressed the world outside, I decided to ride down the road to Duddingston and report back to Mrs Lawers the dismal failure of my mission.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The day was surprisingly pleasant and mild as I rode past the loch, after my recent experiences of dour skies and rain in Lochandor and Tarnbrae. This was a day when October forgot its rightful place in the autumn calendar and made a last dash to be summer in disguise.
Much to my surprise there was a gathering outside Mrs Lawers’ door, and as I parked with a premonition of disaster, her neighbour Amy Dodd, who had spoken to me earlier, ran swiftly to my side.
‘What happened?’ I gasped. ‘Was it the influenza?’
Tearfully she shook her head. ‘We don’t know for sure. Mary assured me that they were on the mend as I’d been called away to Gullane to see my daughter. They’ve had an outbreak of the influenza there and I was anxious about the grandchildren. I stayed longer than I had intended. When I came back I went straight in to see how they were next door …’
She paused and took a deep breath. ‘And there they were, both lying there – Mary and Hinton – both of them … Hinton had come back while I was away.’ A sobbing breath. ‘I knew at one glance … and the smell of death. I’ve seen enough in my time – buried six bairns, I have. I knew they were dead. It was terrible. I went for the doctor, along the street there, and he came right away. Came out looking very grave, very white, and when I asked him what it was, if it was the influenza, he wasn’t prepared to say more than that they had been dead for a while.’
She looked round and whispered, ‘Now the police have been here, taken things away. I was sure I smelt gas when I found them both. I knew there would be trouble when Duddingston was linked up.’
As she shook her head, still suspicious of this new fad, I thought how much easier it made life for folks in Edinburgh – Jack had promised me my very first gas cooker once Solomon’s Tower was on the circuit.
Amy was saying, ‘We don’t know what will happen, both alone in the world, neither with any family. No one to bury them.’
I thought of Mr Lawers, uncaring in Lochandor, as she went on, ‘Hinton was devoted to Mary. Been with her since she was a young lass, more of a close friend than a maid.’
She looked at me anxiously. ‘You’d better come inside, miss, not stand talking out here in the cold. You’re not looking too well yourself.’
I was glad to follow her into the cottage, very similar to that of Mrs Lawers’, in a row of ancient houses built more than two centuries ago.
Inviting me to sit down with a gesture, she said, ‘Would you like a bowl of soup, just to warm you up?’
I accepted gladly. Food was scarce in Solomon’s Tower when Jack was absent. Since I had been ill there had been no shopping and the pantry was almost empty.
The soup was delicious, and as I praised it, she nodded. ‘Are you one of Mary’s Edinburgh friends?’
‘We are quite recently acquainted, so I didn’t know her very well. I live along the road at Solomon’s Tower.’
Amy smiled sadly. ‘Mary’s a lovely lady, and I’ll miss her sorely, that I will. A good friend these four years. I felt quite honoured as I soon found out she doesn’t abide neighbours. There’s that Frenchie fellow on her other side; he’s been here years and years but she’s kept him at the door, wouldn’t have anything to do with him. But so kind and friendly to me – we’d meet nearly every day ’cos we share the communal garden. Through there.’ She pointed to the kitchen window. ‘Mary’s been getting too frail and rheumatic to do much any more and her dear Hinton was never good at gardening, so as I’m strong and willing, I do most of it now.’
‘Tell me about the maid. What did she look like?’
Amy seemed to find this question curious but she said, ‘She was quite small.’ She looked at me. ‘A bit like yourself, Mrs McQuinn, not very tall. I always thought she must have been right bonny when she was young, and although she had a club foot from birth, it didn’t deter her. She was quite sprightly.’
Under five feet tall and a club foot didn’t sound like the bogus Hinton who had taken her place. I wanted to know more, especially as I had being doing some rapid calculations that suggested the two women had already been dead when I made my s
econd journey to Lochandor. I remembered that I had not seen Mrs Lawers, only heard that hoarse whisper from behind the door. I felt suddenly chilled at the realisation that while I stood outside the door, they were both lying dead inside.
Who then was pretending to be Mrs Lawers? There was only one answer – their killer.
‘Did they have any visitors?’
‘Not often. Mary liked to meet her friends in Edinburgh. She’d take a carriage, her “little luxury” she said, a nice change of scene and a bit of shopping.’
And I remembered that momentous day in Jenners as she went on, ‘It was quite an event if someone came to call, and Mary would tell me all about it. I’d even do a bit of baking, on the rare occasion there was something like a birthday to celebrate.’
‘Any recent callers?’
The question worried her. She frowned. ‘Yes, a strange youngish man, tall, well dressed. A gentleman. I thought he might be some sort of a solicitor. Called about a week ago, while I was visiting her. He didn’t seem pleased to see me, and Mary didn’t introduce us, which was odd. She was always very polite and proper about such things, well brought up, good family, y’know.’ She nodded. ‘I left them – I know my place. Never intrude.’
She paused, with a thoughtful frown. ‘Odd that was, because she never mentioned his visit and when she had an important visitor she enjoyed gossiping about them to me afterwards.’
‘It might have been private matters, of course.’
‘Maybe you’re right. Something urgent, because he was back a couple of days later. I saw him through the window; it was a nice warm day and I was doing a bit of gardening and gathering some vegetables, nice and fresh – they make the best soup.’
She frowned. ‘Anyway, whatever it was, it wasn’t nice business, he was being rude and upsetting her. Yes, shouting at her like no gentleman would. He had a loud voice, and although she was getting rather deaf and he needed to speak up, there was no need for bullying her.’
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded vigorously. ‘I know bullying when I hear it, Mrs McQuinn. Although I couldn’t hear the exact words, I knew he was threatening her. Yes, that’s what it was.’ She paused. ‘They were having words. And I know all about voices. I used to teach elocution.’
‘What kind of words?’
‘Angry ones. First time I ever heard Mary raise her voice to anyone, except Frenchie next door, telling him that he was trespassing on private property when he was looking in her back window – searching for a lost kitten, he said. Told him off properly, said trespassing applied to his cat too, using her garden as a lavatory.’
A smile of satisfaction. ‘That was him put in his place, but this other fellow – it was quite a shock. He was shouting too: “You’re not listening, you old fool.” I heard that, it was so loud and so rude and she was saying something about never letting him have it. Sounded as if he wanted to buy the house. But I knew she would never sell.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Oh, she was very proud of her cottage, said it was the one Bonnie Prince Charlie lived in before the Battle of Prestonpans. One of her ancestors had served with him. She was very proud of that but never told me anything more; she liked her privacy and was always angry and upset when nosy folk came and stared in the windows. Like yon Jacobite society or old Frenchie, who she said was always wanting an excuse to come in and have a look round. She sent them off sharpish, I can tell you.’
‘This bullying man, did you see him again?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Maybe he came when I was in Gullane. I came back—’ her voice broke. ‘That was when I found them. I’ll never forget the sight – both lying there, dead. Not a mark on them, looked as if they had just fallen asleep. But I blame that awful man; everything had been fine before he came. Perhaps he had frightened them to death.’
I thought that most improbable and as she was talking I was adding up the evidence. And my own theories were grim indeed. The fact that the police had been called suggested suspicious circumstances and that the women had died by violence – the most likely suspect the man who had wanted this house so much, the man speaking behind the door and pretending to be Mrs Lawers on that last visit.
I found no consolation that I had completed my assignment for Mrs Lawers. I could have closed my eyes, put the money in the bank and walked away, got on with the rest of my life. Instead I felt that I was personally involved, under an obligation to find their killer.
I had the first clue, a certainty, that the bullying mystery man was in league with the bogus Hinton who had tried to steal Mrs Lawers’ legacy by pushing me out of the door of a moving train.
I had much to occupy my mind as I rode back to Solomon’s Tower, where I was delighted and greatly relieved to see Jack sitting at the kitchen table. His first words were, ‘How was Meg? Did she look well? Was she happy and did she like her present? Tell me all about her – did they have a photograph of her for me?’
And alas, I could answer none of his questions.
Saying that the Pringlesses weren’t at home sounded like a weak excuse. His eyebrows shot up. ‘After all that distance, couldn’t you have waited for them to return?’
And when I mentioned the tattie howking, his sigh was full of reproach. ‘Surely that would be local and you could have tracked them down?’ A pause and then he added, ‘What about Mrs Lawers’ precious package? I suppose you managed that.’
I nodded vaguely. He was so cross I forbore all but the minor details about Mrs Lawers’ reluctant heir. ‘I’m sorry about Meg, but I was feeling awful, Jack. I just had to get home,’ I added weakly.
‘Doesn’t sound like you,’ he said mockingly. ‘You’re always strong as a horse.’ And giving me a hard look, ‘You certainly got better very quickly in a couple of days, so it couldn’t have been all that bad.’
I was growing weary of this inquisition, cross too, and guilty that I had let him down. I certainly didn’t feel like discussing Thane’s part in my miraculous recovery. Normally the almost-fatal circumstances of my first journey and the salacious details of the Lochandor Convalescent Home would have intrigued Jack, but not this time. He was otherwise involved, all his thoughts on Meg and my failure to reach her.
A moment of calm and he said, ‘Well, I will have to do something about contacting Meg’s folks now. So what have you being doing all this time?’
‘If you mean this morning, then I’ve been down to Duddingston to see Mrs Lawers. And what do I find? She and her maid are both dead. A neighbour found their bodies – I had presumed the poor souls had succumbed to influenza. She said she had smelt gas.’ I paused. ‘And I gather from her neighbour that the police are interested.’
He looked sheepish, cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t want to upset you, Rose.’
‘I think you know me better than that, DI Macmerry, or you should by now,’ I said coldly.
‘Chief Inspector Gray is on this one, based on the doctor’s suspicions, I gather. He wasn’t satisfied with his findings, thought it might be more than a gas leak which had killed them. I’ve just heard.’
‘But you weren’t going to tell me! Did you think I wouldn’t be interested?’ I added sweetly, ‘Well, I hope this doesn’t put you off the idea of a gas cooker.’
I gave him a hard look and he said sternly, ‘This is a police matter, Rose. You must stay out of it.’
Gray and I were old foes; his scathing comments about lady investigators still rankled. That was the moment I decided to keep my own counsel, certain that Jack would dutifully pass on the details of my almost-fatal train journey to Gray. But what a triumph, I thought, if my own investigation could reveal the truth about the Duddingston murder. I said only, ‘If you want to steal a march on the chief inspector, then have a private word with Amy Dodd, her next-door neighbour and long-term friend. They’ve lived in and out of each other’s houses for years.’
And I went about preparing the meal trying to pretend I had accepted Jack’s ruling. My min
d was already racing ahead making plans for the immediate future.
As we ate together, I said, ‘I intend returning to Lochandor, seeing John Lawers—’
‘Even if you get the door slammed in your face again?’
‘Even if he throws the package into the fire this time. I have been paid to deliver a client’s dying wish. And this time, I will see Meg.’
Jack smiled, ‘Fair enough, Rose. That’s my girl.’ And taking my hand across the table, ‘That’s what makes me love you.’
As we prepared for bed later, he said, ‘Sorry I’ve sounded so uncaring. I’ve got a lot on my mind, just now. What with one thing and another, I think you understand – about Meg. Not knowing if she’s really my child is gnawing away at me.’
I looked at him. The mother had gone and he would never know the truth. But for the child’s sake, the innocent in all this, I hoped his fears were unfounded as he added, ‘I’ve reached the stage where I am almost afraid to meet her, Rose. It was different when she was just a baby but now – what if she doesn’t know me, or even like me? That is why it is so important that you see her now, take her a birthday present, explain that I promise to come and see her in a week or two.’
Lacking any recent news of Meg, I could well understand his anxiety. He had my sympathy. Three-year-old Meg would regard the Pringlesses as her real parents and Jack would be a stranger.
CHAPTER NINE
I decided to leave immediately. My plan was to appeal once again to the irascible John Lawers, hoping that, influenced by Mary Lawers’ tragic end, he would not be so dismissive this time. I might even learn from him some tenuous family link.
If he decided to put the legacy on the fire, then I must insist that it was opened first as it might contain vital evidence relating to his relative’s death – or murder.
If this failed and he still refused, the only alternative was to open the package myself. I was unwilling – it would be like reading a private diary – but if by so doing I could unravel the mystery and steal a march on Chief Inspector Gray, all the better. Especially as, if I felt magnanimous, Jack could take all the credit, claim the idea was his own.
Deadly Legacy Page 5
