Nelly smiled in spite of her grief. Happy endings only ever happened in fairy tales.
She took one last look at the house, picked up her suitcases and left.
38
Charlie Johns had typed up his report and it was now with the Procurator Fiscal. There wouldn’t be a case as the main suspect was dead. No bodies had washed up and, although that situation could change, Charlie had a gut feeling Lena and Kenneth would both remain undiscovered.
What a tragic case it had turned out to be, from the initial report of Harry Hawkins’ death and the dogged determination of one old man, who firmly believed that he hadn’t died a natural death, to this terrible conclusion.
From that Shakespeare play all those years ago, one quotation remained in his mind: ‘A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’
This had been such a tale, not told by an idiot but by a vengeful woman and it had signified a lot. There had been nine deaths, if one included Lizzy’s unborn child, but it could have been much worse if Molly McQueen and Tam had also died.
The telephone on his desk rang. ‘DS Johns,’ he said. It was a report of a burglary in Broughty Ferry.
PC Williams was on the stairs as Charlie made for the door.
‘Ah, just the man I need. Drive me to this address, would you? They’ve had a burglary.’ He gave PC Williams the address.
As they both went downstairs, a look of dismay crossed the constable’s face. After all the excitement of the Lamont case with its echoes of wartime betrayal and fabulous jewels, this burglary was taking him back to the drudgery of a policeman’s lot.
He gave a deep sigh then slipped behind the wheel of the car.
39
Molly stood on the platform of the railway station. Christie was late and she hoped he wouldn’t miss his train. The station was busy with people coming back from day excursions and shopping trips.
Small children, tired from a day out, were whining and needing their beds. Molly glanced at the large railway clock. It said six o’clock. Christie would have to hurry as his train would be arriving in fifteen minutes. She saw him hurrying down the stairs with two large suitcases. She waved and he saw her.
‘I thought I would miss the train,’ he said. He sounded out of breath as if he had been running. ‘Joe asked me to go with him to see Mike and I didn’t like to refuse. I just wanted to say goodbye to them both.’
‘Well, you’re here at last.’
‘I’m really pleased you came to see me off, Molly. I’ll miss you.’
Molly looked surprised. ‘Will you?’
‘Don’t look so astonished. Of course I’ll miss you. I liked you from the very first day you came to Cliff Top House.’
Molly didn’t know what to say. When he had asked her to come and see him off, she hadn’t realised how he felt about her. She had seen so little of him during her time at the house.
‘I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you come over to Canada? You would do well there with your agency and I could open a detective agency next door to you. Then I could do all the investigative work while you do the office stuff. We could become partners in crime.’
Molly laughed. ‘You sound like someone from an Agatha Christie novel. Was that why your parents called you that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe my mother was a fan of hers. But I’m serious about the Canadian offer. Will you think about it?’
The train arrived, sending great belches of steam over the roof and the platform. Christie shook her hand.
‘I hope this isn’t goodbye. Will you keep in touch?’
‘Yes I will. I’ll write to you with all my news.’
The train slowly pulled away and Christie leaned out of the window. ‘Remember my offer. Canada is only a few thousand miles away.’
Then he was gone.
Molly felt dispirited. After all the drama of the past couple of weeks she now felt she was in the doldrums. She had prayed that Kenneth would be found but, as time went on, it seemed highly unlikely.
She didn’t feel like going home so she made her way to the Wellgate and the agency. The street was busy with people all heading for a night out at the pictures or maybe just for a walk on this fine summer night.
When she got near the agency she was surprised to see Edna and Mary standing at the door.
‘We thought you might be a bit down in the dumps, Molly, so we thought we would come here and see you,’ said Edna.
Mary had a small white box in her hand. ‘We’ve bought some cakes from Nicoll and Smibert to have a cup of tea.’
Molly took her key from her bag. ‘Well, what are we waiting for? Put the kettle on, Mary, and we can drown our sorrows with tea and cakes.’
When they were all sitting down, Molly said, ‘Christie asked me to go to Canada with him.’
Edna looked at her. ‘And? Are you thinking of going?’
‘No,’ said Molly. ‘What I am going to do is convert the rooms upstairs into a flat for myself. I don’t want to stay with my parents when they come back from Australia.’
Edna gave her a shrewd glance. ‘Why’s that, Molly?’
For a moment Molly didn’t answer, then she said, ‘I can’t bear looking at the river from the window in the house. It brings back horrible memories.’
Mary went over and gave her a hug. ‘You’ve still got us working for you and the business is getting busier. You’ve still got your friends.’ She stopped. ‘I remember where I saw Mike. Do you remember I said I thought his face was familiar? Well, the night Rita and I went to the Palais, I’m sure he was standing near us at the tram stop earlier that day.’
Molly was embarrassed when tears came into her eyes. ‘It’s all over now, Mary, and yes, I’m very lucky with you both. You’re friends as well as work colleagues.’
Later as they all left to go home, Edna touched the letter in her pocket. She had been shocked to hear of Reg’s death. There had been an old letter from her in his pocket when he was shot and the authorities had written to inform her.
She had never wanted him to die, just to go away and leave her alone. Now, of course, he wouldn’t ever bother her again. She was glad she hadn’t mentioned it. Molly had suffered enough bad memories. She could do without hearing about her troubles just now.
Molly caught the train to Wormit. She had left the car there and as she slowly made her way home, her mind was full of confusing thoughts, mainly about Kenneth. Joe had told her that Kenneth was falling in love with her and she now realised she felt the same about him. He was far older than her but he had been a lovely man and she knew she would have had a great life with him. But like Tom, he was also dead so what was the good in thinking like this? She felt like there was some kind of jinx.
Marigold was waiting at the gate when she arrived. Sabby was sitting at her feet. Molly could tell she had been gardening because she was wearing her enormous canvas gloves, which had been the death of many a weed and thistle.
She was holding up a small yellow square. ‘Molly, a telegram came for you about an hour ago.’
Molly always associated a telegram with bad news. She took it and quickly opened it.
‘Nell had a baby girl yesterday. She’s to be called Molly. Both well and asking for you.’
Marigold was dancing with joy, much to Sabby’s displeasure. ‘Oh that’s wonderful news. A wee girl and called after you, Molly.’
Molly said, ‘There’s a bit more. “What a pity you couldn’t be here. You’ve missed all the excitement. Mum and Dad.”’
‘Missed all the excitement indeed,’ said Marigold.
Molly laughed so hard that she cried.
Copyright
First published 2010 by
Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive
Edinburgh
EH6 6JL
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2011
ISBN: 978 1 84502 391 1 in EPub format
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p; ISBN: 978 1 84502 392 8 in Mobipocket format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 295 2 in trade paperback format
Copyright © Maureen Reynolds 2011
The right of Maureen Reynolds to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Original typesetting and Ebook compilation by
RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk
McQueen's Agency Page 27
