`They've put together the story of the Kinture treason and of the murder of Agnes Tod which covered it up. Most of it can be proved categorically, the rest would stand up beyond reasonable doubt in a modern court of justice, if there were any point to it.'
Kinture looked up, with tears staining his white face. 'I can prove the rest for you,' he croaked.
In 1977 a mad old woman came along from Longniddry, in a taxi, to see my pa. She was rambling; she went on that the curse had been betrayed; that it had been told to a common outsider. The old crone believed that she was a witch. She said that she would call down her powers against the outsider, but that Pa must do everything in his power to keep the secret.
Eventually Pa realised that the old woman was in deadly earnest. Mad or not, she believed everything she was saying. He mollified her and delivered her back home. Then he searched our family records, and he found a deathbed document, written and sealed by James Carr himself, confessing to the events you have just described, with the curse written down in full.
`Pa told Ma and me the story. The three of us decided that some things are best left undisturbed. So the old lady's secret was kept, and James Carr's confession was hidden once more. I still have it, though.' He wheeled himself over to the mahogany desk, and opened a drawer. He reached inside and pulled a lever. Slowly, a leather panel in the centre of the desktop swung up to reveal a secret compartment. Kinture took out a thick, folded document, yellow with age and with a broken red seal, and handed it to Skinner. 'Here, take the damn thing. Do with it what you think best.'
The policeman looked at the Marquis, long and hard. Twice, Martin thought that he wanted to speak, but found the words caught in his throat. But finally, he reached out his hand and took the paper. 'Thank you,' he said. 'I know exactly what I'm going to do with it. There's a man at Edinburgh University who deserves some glory, and a young woman in Germany who deserves to be relieved of a burden.' He paused. 'One thing, though. Don't go trying to reclaim the Kinture Bible. The Soutar line have earned the right to it.'
He looked across at Martin. 'So, Andy, that's one of our two investigations at an end. The trouble is, it seems to have absolutely bugger all to do with the other one. James Carr's been dead for over three hundred and fifty years, but in the here and now there's another murderer about on his land, and he has to be caught too, before he's one day older!
And in that, My Lord, from having been a bloody nuisance up till now, you have a chance to help! So has Arthur Highfield, if he's here. Could you ask him to join us, please? There are a few things he may be able to tell me.'
Kinture picked up a phone from the desk, pressed a button and did as Skinner asked.
`Good,' said the policeman. Now, while we're waiting for him, I want to ask you about something odd that you said to me last Sunday. I thought it was a throwaway line at the time, but it may be one of the last pieces of a bloody difficult jigsaw!'
Sixty-six
‘This is the oddest breakfast I've ever had, I think,' said Bob. He, Sarah, Alex and Andy, sat round the conservatory table, just after nine-forty-five, surveying the detritus of boiled eggs, beef tomatoes, baguettes, and coffee. Beside them Jazz slurped happily, as his sister introduced him to the taste of another new baby-food.
‘For the last twelve hours, my life's been turning somersaults. I've never known a week quite like this, for twists and turns, damn few of them expected. But I can see the picture now. I know who I'm after, although whether I'll be able to catch my quarry is something else.'
He stared at the ceiling. Sarah and Alex looked at him. This was a mood new to both of them.
It was Andy who broke the silence. 'Bob. What the Marquis said back there, about the old woman calling down her powers and everything. I mean, that's all balls, and you mustn't let yourself dwell on it.'
Bob looked at him and smiled. 'Don't worry, Andy. I won't do that. Hector Kinture was right about one thing. Some things are best left undisturbed, and that one will be.'
He looked at the ceiling once more, focusing on a dark patch on the paintwork. 'All the same, faith is a dangerous thing. And old Nana Soutar had plenty of that; four centuries of it, in fact.
She believed beyond all reason in the legend of Agnes Tod. The whole world's built on faith, you know, Andy It's held together by good faith, and it can be broken by bad. People with the sort of faith that Nana Soutar had, people like that can move mountains.
One thing that I know for certain is that I don't know everything. And I'll tell you; I don't want to! So don't worry, my friend; I won't brood on what the daft old lady said. I'll let it lie, for my sake and for everyone else's.'
Alex wiped Jazz's mouth with a soft cloth. 'What the hell are you two going on about?' Sarah asked.
I'll tell you later, and I'll let Andy tell Alex. Meantime…'
Once more, he was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. 'What now, I wonder?' He picked up the remote handset which lay on the table, near to hand, extended the aerial and pressed the 'Talk' button.
`Skinner,' he said, his voice unusually tetchy.
`Hello, sir. It's Brian Mackie. I'm coming out to Witches' Hill, but right now I'm still in the office. There's been some news from England'
Oh aye? What's that?'
`Richard Andrews has been found.'
Skinner sat upright in his chair. 'Andrews! Where?'
`He's turned up in Farnham, in Surrey, sir. In a private clinic.
`When we started looking for him, we circulated the number of his hired car to every force in the country, with a request to locate at all costs. Last night, a Detective Constable on the Surrey force was visiting his mother in the Farnham clinic, when he spotted it in the car park.
`He went in and he checked the clinic's records. Andrews has been a patient there since last Saturday. He's due to leave today. The Surrey CID have him under observation, but they're taking no action till they hear from us.'
`Did they ask who made the booking?'
`Sure, it was made for him by his doctor in the States, two weeks ago, on an emergency basis.
He turned up on schedule, last Saturday evening. He was checked over on Sunday, had his surgical procedure last Monday, and he's been recuperating ever since. He's never been out of his room, he's made no phone calls and he's received none. He's read no newspapers, just listened to music all week. Non-stop Pavarotti.'
Skinner, phone in hand, glanced across the table at Martin. `So why the secrecy? Why didn't he tell anyone where he was going, not even Morton, his cousin as well as his boss? Do we know?'
He was surprised by Mackie's uncharacteristic laugh. 'I think I can guess, sir. The Farnham clinic is internationally respected, apparently. It specialises in the treatment of complaints of a delicate, personal nature.
Apparently Andrews was the unhappy owner of one of the finest collections of haemorrhoids they've ever seen. Piles of them, you might say. Like a bunch of grapes, the Matron described them.
I can understand a guy with a major dose of the Farmers being a bit shy about them, boss.
They wouldn't do anything for his hard-man image, would they?'
Skinner laughed. 'No, I don't suppose they would. Still, it's nice to know that the Almighty bestows his bounty where it's most deserved.'
`What do you want the people in Surrey to do about him, sir? Pick him up?'
`No, Brian. There's no reason for that. All they've got to do is break the news to him that he's minus one cousin. Put that in hand, will you?'
He paused, in thought, for a few moments, and a dark gleam came into his eye. 'Eliminating Andrews completes the jigsaw, Brian. The picture's clear now.
`Listen, don't come out here yet. I want some enquiries made very fast in a couple of places.
And I need a favour from my colleagues in the security services, in the communications section.
`Here's what you do.'
Sixty-seven
The weather had moved from overcast to oppressive as Skinne
r climbed the steps to the mobile office. He felt the humidity hanging in the air, and the mounting heat even in mid-morning. The conditions were alien to the Scottish climate, particularly in September, and they added to the feeling of unreality which gripped him.
Alison Higgins, Maggie Rose, Mario McGuire and Neil Mcllhenney were waiting inside as he stepped through the door, with Andy Martin, in plain clothes, on his heels. To the Inspector and the two Sergeants, their arrival together rang of a reunion, but none voiced their thoughts.
Skinner looked around his grim-faced colleagues.
`Well people, it's been quite a week, hasn't it? Just when we were hoping it was over, we've lost another. But that's it, I promise you. It stops today.'
He turned towards Higgins, kindly. 'Superintendent, you've done a bloody good job. But it's been an impossible one. I believe I know the whole story, now. I still have to put it to the test, but I'm certain of it. There's no need for watchers on the course any more. Richard Andrews was found this morning, and he's out of the picture. I know who we're after, and how we'll find him.
Alison, I only came upon the truth through an incredible piece of luck, but once that happened, the whole thing came together, as clear as crystal. There was no step you didn't take, nothing you could have done that would have brought us to it any sooner. Knowing it's one thing though. Proving it will be something else again. Still, we'll see what the day brings.
There are a couple of traps I can set. One of them's already in place.'
He looked across at McGuire. The other one, that's a backstop, and for it, Mario, I need you to make a purchase for me. This is what it is.' As he gave the Sergeant-turned-caddy his instructions, even Andy Martin looked puzzled.
Sixty-eight
‘Tell you what, Maggie,' said Skinner, as he and his assistant stepped down from the mobile office. 'Before I go off to practise, I think I might take my captain's advice and see what odds the bookies are giving on his score today.
I know you're not much of a gambler — neither am I… with money at any rate — but if they're long enough, they might be too good to miss. Fancy it?'
The red-haired Inspector grinned up at him. 'OK, sir, if you're for it, so am I. I'll follow your lead.'
`Right then, let's find the bookmaker's tent.'
They turned towards the heart of the small tented village, past the big exhibition pavilion, into which Mario McGuire was disappearing, and headed past the champagne tent and the almost legendary bar which is reserved at major tournaments for golf club stewards, down towards a marquee which flew the colours of a leading gaming house.
`You're really certain you know who we're after, boss, aren't you? I assume you think all three murders are connected.'
He nodded. 'Absolutely. Everything's connected, apart from the Witch's Curse, of course.
You, incidentally, are in line for a commendation for your work on that, and Henry Wills will have a letter of thanks from the Chief Constable, and whether he likes it or not, a consultancy fee. You've worked it out, by now, haven't you?'
She looked at him, hesitant. 'Well I've worked out that James Carr framed Agnes and the other two women because they were an embarrassment to him, and he wanted them out of the way.'
`Good. I've got a document back in Gullane which will take you the rest of the way. I'll show it to you after this lot's over. In the office tomorrow, maybe.'
I can't wait.' They walked in silence for a few paces, until Rose looked up at him again. 'Sir, I know I'm being presumptuous, but I've got to say this. I'm glad that things seem to be all right again between you and Mr Martin.'
Skinner smiled. 'There's nothing presumptuous about caring for friends, Maggie. I'm just as glad about what you and Big McGuire will be doing next weekend.'
`That's good,' she gulped. 'In that case, as well as coming to the wedding, I wonder if you'd give me away. My dad's dead, as you know, and I've got no brothers or uncles, and there's no one I'd rather.. Or is that really too presumptuous?'
He stopped in his stride and looked at her, straight-faced. `Maggie, giving you away would be an honour…' he broke into a grin.. provided I get you back after the honeymoon.'
The grin became more quizzical. 'You never know, it might be a dress rehearsal.'
Before she could ask him what he meant, she was interrupted by a cry from down the walkway, beyond the bookmaker's tent. 'Miss Rose! Maggie!'
Both she and Skinner looked up in surprise. The woman who waved to them was dark-haired.
She was beaming and her eyes were shining with delight. She wore a brightly coloured top and jeans with a look of newness about them. Beside her in a buggy was a small girl, her hair in bright ribbons.
Maggie's eyes widened. 'My God. Lisa! Is that you?'
The woman rushed towards them, pushing the buggy as fast as she could. The drab, wan creature Maggie had met in Germany had vanished. In her place, the new Lisa Soutar was confident and effervescent.
`What the devil are you doing here?' Maggie asked as she reached them. 'What's happened?'
Lisa smiled. 'I've been looking for you. I rang your office and they said that you'd be here. I just wanted to find you and thank you.'
`Thank me? For what?'
`For waking me up, that's what. When you came to see me the other day, I was suddenly ashamed of the way I must have looked to you. And just talking to you about the curse and everything, I realised all at once just what my nana had done to my life. I decided there and then that I'd never do that to wee Cherry.
`Then when you phoned to tell me about the Bible, and what it was worth, the rest just fell away too. I thought to myself, "Bugger it, wumman, this is your chance to change your life!"
And so there and then I packed up; I bought a plane ticket; I took my Bible from that bank vault, and I brought my daughter, and it, back home. Cherry and me, we're here for good. The Bible's here only until I can sell the bloody thing. As for Nana's warning, ah'll take my chance wi' the Devil! And as for the Witch's Curse, it's a good story, so maybe someone will help me write a book about it.'
Maggie threw back her head and laughed with delight. 'Yes, and Lisa, I know the very man!'
She paused. 'But what about your husband?'
`That miserable bugger!' she snorted. 'I have to thank you for that too. When you looked at the way we were living, when you looked at his fancy hi-fi stuff in the house and then at me in my shabbiness, you looked so bloody angry. I realised that I was angry too, only I'd been too feart to let it out.
`So as far as Corporal Davies is concerned, he can… well, saving the presence of wee Cherry and the gentleman here, do you know the phrase, "Piss up a rope"? All I have to do now is arrange things so that when I sell the Bible, he doesn't get a single penny from it.'
`Lisa,' said Maggie, 'it's a hell of a word to use about this, but you're magic!'
She stopped. 'But listen, I'm sorry. You've been thanking me. This is the man you should thank. This is my boss, ACC Skinner. It was him who sent me to see you, and it was him who uncovered the curse, and your tape.'
Lisa looked up at him, and her mouth dropped open. She looked suddenly sad. 'Oh, you poor man. You know, I still remember your wife like yesterday. She was so nice. I remember you too. What must finding that tape have done to you?'
Skinner smiled at her. 'I'm glad I found it, Lisa, for what it's done for you, and for what it's done to uncover more wrongs than you can imagine. It's a funny thing you know, but I believe that in this world, most things do turn out all right in the end. Even if sometimes it takes a few hundred years!'
Sixty-nine
Skinner's Round
`Team, could you do me a favour?' Skinner asked, as they stood on the first tee, at five minutes before 1 p.m. on the final day of the Murano Million. The crowd which gathered behind them was by far the biggest of the event.
`Name it, my friend,' said Darren Atkinson, with a smile, although his eyes were beginning to narrow as he gathered his concentration for t
he challenge ahead.
`Could you sign something for me? I can't let this week go by without having a memento of it.' He produced an event programme. 'Hah,' said Darren, 'a punter at heart!' He took the programme, signed it with a flourish, then passed it to Hideo Murano.
As the Japanese automobile heir and the millionaire singer added their signatures, Skinner said, I'm a punter indeed, skipper. I took your advice about going to the bookie's. So did my assistant, your stand-in caddy's fiancee. They gave us seven-to-two against you shooting sixty-three or lower. I've got fifty quid on you to do it. Maggie wasn't as sure though. She reckoned with Mario caddying the odds weren't long enough, so she only bet a fiver!'
McGuire looked relieved by her lack of confidence.
Atkinson gathered the team together. 'Look, boys. This is crunch time. The team event's sewn up. We couldn't lose that if we tried. But in the individual event, I've got a million quid to secure, and I don't want to win it just by a shot or two. Bob, here, he's got something pretty big to go for too. He's in sight of the scratch amateur prize, and he could even shoot lower than one or two of the pros.'
Norton Wales cut in. 'So what you're saying, Darren, boyo, is that you'd like Hideo and me to keep out of the road of you two.'
Atkinson looked flustered by his directness. 'I don't want to be rude, but yes. That's about it.'
`Rude, man! Considering what's at stake, you've been magic all week. Don't worry about us.
There's nothing in the rules to say we have to play, and we won't add anything to the effort, so for today I'll just be a spectator like that lot there. How do you feel, Hideo?'
Beside him, the Japanese nodded emphatically. He and Wales withdrew to the back of the tee, to explain the change of plan to their caddies, and to pay them for their shortest day's work ever.
Skinner’s round bs-4 Page 30
