by Agatha Frost
“You too,” Julia said as she let go of the young man’s hand. “Did you move up here together?”
“I came up first,” Blair said. “When Henry fired Andrew McCracken, I put in a good word for Ben.”
“There aren’t many jobs back home,” Benjamin explained. “Not since the recession. Tourism isn’t what it was, and I didn’t fancy working behind a bar. I’ve always been an outdoors kind of guy, so the groundskeeper job suited me perfectly.”
“So you’re the new groundskeeper,” Julia said with a nod. “I think somebody mistook me for you yesterday. There was a man at reception who asked if I was the new groundskeeper. Quite rude, actually.”
Benjamin took a sharp intake of breath and pushed his hands behind his coat to rest them on his slender hips. He nodded his understanding and rolled his eyes a little, reminding Julia of Jessie.
“I guess you’ve met Andrew,” he said. “I only arrived a few weeks ago, but he’s been up here quite a lot. Probably trying to get his job back. I’ve avoided meeting the fella so far, but I can’t see it happening much longer.”
“He’s a drunk,” Blair explained with a whisper. “Not a very nice man.”
Julia opened her mouth to speak, but she suddenly stopped herself. She realised that she had seen Andrew on the morning Henry was murdered, meaning he was in the castle right before it had happened. The cogs in her mind started to crank slowly as the pieces slotted into place.
“Does Andrew live quite close?” Julia asked.
“Last I heard, he was staying above a pub in Aberfoyle,” Blair said.
“Do you know which pub?”
“Is it significant?”
Julia thought for a moment, smiling as not to give away her genuine motives.
“I wanted to go into the village with my sister, and I wondered if it was a good pub,” she said, hoping the first thing that sprung to her mind was good enough.
It appeared to be. Neither sibling looked too suspiciously at her.
“The Red Deer Inn,” Blair said. “Although it’s not the nicest place to eat. You might be better trying one of the little tearooms or cafés on the backstreets. We should get on with remaking Charlotte and Rory’s breakfasts before we need to start on your gran and sister’s.”
While Blair gathered the ingredients from the fridge, Julia pulled her notepad out of her handbag, flicked past a recipe for a double chocolate fudge cake, and scribbled down ‘Andrew McCracken - The Red Deer Inn’. If the former groundskeeper who had been fired by the victim only two weeks previously was lurking around the castle on the morning of Henry’s murder, Julia wanted to speak to him.
6
Just after lunch, Julia and Sue drove into Aberfoyle village, leaving their gran to enjoy the spa. Julia had intentionally waited until the masseuse had carefully placed the cucumber slices on Dot’s eyes before grabbing Sue and dragging her out of the castle.
“You’ve got flour in your hair,” Sue said as they drove slowly through the village as the afternoon sun beat down on them. “Why do you think this man will be able to tell you something, anyway?”
“Because he was there the morning Henry was murdered,” Julia said as she tried to look around the car in front to see what was causing the holdup. “Even if he can’t tell us anything about that morning, he might be able to paint a picture of Henry so I can try and figure out who would want to murder him.”
“Well, there’s only so many people it could be,” Sue said with a sigh. “I was thinking about this while Maria was giving me a deep tissue massage. Aside from us, the only people in the castle when Henry was shot were Charlotte and Blair, so it must have been one of those two.”
“Blair was down in the kitchen, and from what I can see, there was only one door out of that room, and it led to the dining room. We would have seen her.”
“Don’t these old castles have secret tunnels?”
Julia almost laughed off the suggestion, until she realised it wasn’t entirely ridiculous. If Charlotte had been the one to shoot her father with the gun she had known was sitting loaded in the drawing room, it would explain how she had come to be on the other side of the castle right before she had seen him. Julia still hadn’t been able to shake the cold and distant look in Charlotte’s eyes when she had seen her father’s corpse.
“I suppose,” Julia agreed with a nod as they turned down a small cobbled backstreet. “But they weren’t the only two in the castle, were they? Mary was there too. She found his body.”
“But she couldn’t have done it,” Sue said with a small laugh of disbelief. “Those tears were real.”
“Or very well acted,” Julia mumbled. “You should have seen her this morning, Sue. She was behind the reception desk in a pantsuit ready for a day of work like nothing had happened. She didn’t look like a woman who had just lost her husband.”
“Let’s not forget the man had thrown her out the day before,” Sue added. “I wonder why she came back when she found his body.”
“Maybe to reason with him?”
“Probably.”
“Or maybe to kill him?”
“Or that,” Sue said with a roll of her eyes. “Although I don’t believe she did. Either way, she’s a lucky woman. She died the man’s wife, so I guess that means she keeps his fortune. Another couple of months and a divorce later, and she wouldn’t have been entitled to a penny.”
“You sound just like Gran.”
“Well, it’s true,” Sue whispered. “You have to think about these things. Maybe she was chipper this morning because she realised she had landed on her feet. A castle like that would be worth more than a few quid.”
“From what I heard from Blair, Charlotte isn’t going to stand by and let her stepmother take over the running of the castle. Blair thinks Mary only got the job as manager because she was married to the king of the castle.”
“It would explain why the place was so quiet,” Sue said with another heavy sigh. “It’s a beautiful spa, but it would be nicer if there were more guests to talk to. In fact, it would be nice if I had my sister by my side to relax with me. Gran is already driving me up the wall!”
Julia smiled apologetically to her sister as she pulled into the car park in front of The Red Deer Inn. She looked up at it, and it lacked all of the charms of The Plough pub in the heart of Peridale. It was a nondescript building that Julia wouldn’t have even recognised as a pub if it weren’t for the giant red sign and the lopsided parasols jutting out of the plastic tables cluttering the entrance.
“He couldn’t have lived above a quaint tearoom?” Sue groaned as she got out of the car. “Or a nice little jewellery shop?”
The two sisters linked arms as they walked towards the pub. Burly men in white vests exposing their bulked-up and tattoo covered arms glanced at the two women. Julia stiffened her back a little and tried her best not to make eye contact with the men, who she was sure were trying everything to do just that.
“It stinks of beer,” Sue said with a gag as they stepped into the dark and musty pub. “I’m so glad my Neil isn’t a drinker. It’s making me feel sick.”
Julia couldn’t disagree with her sister. As they walked towards the bar, she tried her best to take short intakes of breath through her mouth. The dank pub stank of stale cigarette smoke worked into the wood decades before the smoking ban, spilt stale ale soaked into the carpets, and greasy peanuts, which were scattered across the cluttered bar.
An old man looked from under his hat at the two women, groaned and returned to his pint. Sue clung even tighter onto Julia’s arm.
“I think we should order a drink,” Julia whispered. “To blend in.”
“I’ll have an orange juice,” Sue replied. “And make sure to ask for a clean glass.”
Julia nodded and decided an orange juice was a good idea, especially since they had to drive back down the winding lanes to the castle. She leant over the bar and caught the attention of the only other woman she had seen since entering.
&nbs
p; “You lost?” the woman barked in her thick Scottish accent, her tone clearly condescending. “We dinnae do afternoon tea.”
The woman was a few years older than Julia, but she looked like she had lived a harder life. Her wiry peroxide blonde hair was scraped up into a loosely pinned roll at the back of her head. A large black beauty spot balanced on her top lip, which bounced up and down as she spoke. Her leopard print blouse left little to the imagination.
“Two orange juices please,” Julia said, trying her best to smile, not that she thought it was going to help.
“English too?” the woman scoffed, shaking her head as she collected two glasses from above her. “Dinnae get your kind ‘round these parts too often. Sure yer nae lost, lassie?”
“We’re actually looking for somebody,” Julia said as she swallowed hard and smiled even wider. “A Mr McCracken? We heard he rents a room here?”
“What’s it to you?” she snapped.
Julia took her lack of denial as confirmation that she was at least in the right place. She wriggled her arm free of Sue’s and pulled her purse from her small bag. She pulled out a Scottish ten-pound note that she had changed at the post office before leaving Peridale, and pushed it across the bar.
“Keep the change,” Julia said. “We just wanted to ask him some questions. A man has been murdered at Seirbigh Castle, and we thought he ought to know.”
“Are you the polis?”
“Do you mean ‘police’?” Sue asked, arching a brow and glancing at Julia.
“That’s what I said,” the woman replied flatly as she poured orange juice from a carton and into the two glasses. “Polis.”
“No,” Julia answered, giving her sister a look that she hoped read as ‘leave the talking to me’. “We’re just friends. We just wanted to let him know since it was his former employer.”
“Henry McLaughlin, yer say?” she asked, suddenly frowning as she picked up the money from the bar. “He’s been morrdered?”
“Huh?” Sue jumped in.
“Done in,” the woman barked, glaring at Sue. “Killed. Murdered.”
“Yes, he’s been murdered,” Julia said quickly before her sister could speak again. “Mr McCracken?”
The barmaid looked down at the drinks, then to the money in her hand, then to Julia, and then more disdainfully to Sue. She nodded silently into the corner of the room before turning her back on them and putting the money in the till. With her orange juice in hand, Julia turned and saw the man she had seen in the reception area on the morning of Henry’s murder. She suddenly felt foolish for not scoping out the place first before asking the unfriendly locals.
Andrew McCraken was staring into a dark pint of bitter ale, still in his musty overcoat. The grey stubble on his face had grown even longer, and his thin hair looked even more out of place. He was sitting beneath a dreary oil painting of what appeared to be Loch Lomond with Seirbigh Castle in the distance. It didn’t do the true beauty any justice. Julia and Sue walked over to his table, but he didn’t look up.
“Excuse me? Andrew?” Julia asked politely. “You might not remember me, but we met two days ago at the castle?”
The man grunted and frowned, looking up from his pint as though Julia had just interrupted a deep and important thought that he hadn’t been able to keep hold of.
“What?” he slurred. “Can’t a man enjoy his pint in peace anymore?”
Sue gave Julia a look that screamed ‘please make this quick because I’m scared and I want to leave’, but Julia dismissed it and sat uninvited across the table from Andrew. She knew she wouldn’t find out what she wanted to know if she was shy about it. Sue decided to stay hovering, like an unsure bumblebee buzzing over a dandelion.
“We met at the castle two days ago,” Julia repeated, looking under Andrew’s low and furrowed brow and into his eyes. “Do you remember me?”
The man shrugged and picked up his pint. He glugged half of it down, slammed it onto the table, and smeared his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. From the brown stains cluttering his sleeve, this seemed like normal behaviour.
“If she’s sent you down here to try and convince me, you can get away wi’ yer,” he barked, pointing a long and dirty fingernail in Julia’s face. “A’ve had it with that place.”
“Nobody sent us,” Julia said, glancing up to Sue who looked just as confused. “I’ve come to ask you why you were at the castle on the morning Henry McLaughlin was shot down and murdered in his own home.”
The man met her eyes, a flicker of anger crinkling them at the sides. He didn’t seem surprised to hear that Henry was dead, which made Julia suspect he already knew. She wasn’t sure if Aberfoyle was anything like Peridale, but news as exciting as a murder didn’t stay quiet for long, even if the barmaid hadn’t found out yet.
“Charlotte called me up there asking me to take my old job back,” Henry mumbled, staring into the depths of his pint. “But I told her what I told her today! The man sacked me for being a drunk! I’m no drunk! I just like a drink. There’s a difference y’know!”
“Charlotte came down here today?”
“Left ten minutes before you arrived to poke yer nose in,” he grunted with a small laugh. “Practically begged me. I worked for that family for twenty-five years. Twenty-five! I served in the Falklands, y’know. Then Henry gets all high and mighty and shows me the door for drinking on the job. He couldn’t keep hold of his staff, but I thought I was the exception until he gave me the boot two weeks ago. Wanted my job back at first but realised I was well shot of that place. I hope he rots in hell.”
Andrew lifted his pint to the ceiling before gulping down the remaining contents. Julia edged forward, eager to hear more.
“Henry liked to fire people?”
“It was his favourite thing to do, lassie,” Andrew said with a dark chuckle. “Gave the wee man power. He hardly cleared five feet in height. Napoleon complex right enough! Girls never last more than six months in that kitchen.”
“And the family?” Julia asked, her heart racing. “What are they like?”
“A nightmare,” he grunted, shaking his head heavily as he leant back in his chair to rest his head on the chunky frame of the oil painting. “That Charlotte is the worst, but she does have nerve, I’ll give the lassie that. She stands her ground, but she’s spoiled. Her brother is worse.”
“And Mary?”
“The latest Mrs McLaughlin?” he snorted. “I’ve been there long enough to remember the original Mrs McLaughlin. She was the only one up to the job. The rest haven’t held a candle to Sandra. Mary is running that place into the ground. I’ve never seen the place so quiet. Charlotte has been gunning for the lassie’s job since Henry got rid of the last wife. What was her name again? Claire? Bridget? It’s hard to keep track. Now if you don’t mind, I’m getting another drink, and I’d like it if you weren’t here when I got back.”
Andrew shuffled away from the table and towards the bar. Julia sat for a moment, absorbing the information she had just heard. She turned to Sue, and then to the bar. Andrew and the barmaid were both staring bitterly at them, and she knew they had overstayed their welcome.
“Why would Charlotte try so hard to give Andrew his job back?” she thought aloud. “And why on that morning? Why call him up there so early?”
“I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care,” Sue mumbled, linking arms with Julia and dragging her towards the exit. “I want a pedicure, a facial, and a nice long nap.”
Julia didn’t argue. Andrew had given her more than enough to think about, and as time ticked on, she found her attention directed more and more towards Charlotte McLaughlin.
7
As the sun set on Seirbigh Castle, Julia found herself in her kitchen apron once more and pushing a trolley down the corridor towards the entrance hall. She glanced over her shoulder, where she could hear her gran loudly placing her dinner order with Blair. Looking down at the silver cloche, which contained haggis, neeps and tatties on the plate ben
eath it, she almost couldn’t believe she had convinced Blair to let her take the food up to Charlotte alone.
She pushed through into the entrance hall, which aside from the roaring fire in the giant fireplace, was dark and deserted. She looked behind the reception desk and through to the office, but it was completely empty. She almost walked right by the fireplace and to the foot of the stairs, but something white fluttering on the stone slab in front of the flames caught her eye.
Leaving the trolley by the desk, she tiptoed over, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was truly alone. She knew it was possible that somebody would be there any moment to turn on the lights, but her intrigue drove her forward.
She crouched down and stared at the corner of a white piece of paper that was charred and smouldering at the edges. She patted it with her hand and blew off the excess ash before lifting it up to her eyes. It appeared to be an official looking letter, but the only thing that was still visible was an address in Aberfoyle. Julia looked into the fire where she was sure she could see the ash remnants of a large stack of paperwork that had been dumped onto the flames. She knew it could be nothing, but she pocketed the piece of paper anyway.
With the trolley in hand, she made her way up to the landing and towards Charlotte’s bedroom. She glanced at the miserable family portrait again and wondered if the little girl with the sad face could actually shoot her own father.
Julia knocked softly and waited a few seconds for Charlotte to summon her inside, before pushing carefully on the door, keeping her head bowed as she entered. She was relieved to see Charlotte sitting up in bed alone, in almost complete darkness aside from her bedside lamp. The heavy drapes were drawn, blocking out the last of the day’s sunlight. Charlotte was wearing a pale pink silk robe, and her auburn hair was flowing down her chest, almost hitting the paperwork she was reading.
