If I announced that I was going to leave immediately, it would look very suspicious. Craig would surely try to stop me. And even if I found a means of escape, I couldn’t leave Jamie behind. He would have to come with me.
I’d forgotten that Jamie was still in bed, waiting for me. Steeling myself to be calm, I washed up quickly at the sink and went through to dress. I was wondering what I ought to say about my close shave this morning.
Perhaps it would be best to say nothing and let Craig think his plan had misfired. But my tinkering must surely have blown a fuse. That would bring someone looking for the fault. It struck me that I ought to remove the evidence of my activities before anything else.
I looked at the towel rail dubiously. The thing was probably quite dead now, but I dared not risk leaving it as it was. If a fuse had blown at the main box it would probably be rectified soon. And then the towel rail would be alive again, and the maid who came in to do the cleaning might take my place as the victim.
To be on the safe side I switched it off and swiftly pulled the plug out once more. Then I removed the tangled remains of my coat hangers and let the bath water drain out.
When Jamie and I entered the breakfast room I looked directly at Craig. He must have been astounded at seeing me walk in apparently quite unharmed, but he allowed no trace of surprise to register in those smoky blue eyes of his. With a quick smile he jumped up from the table to greet us.
“Are you sure you felt well enough to get up this morning, Lucy?”
I lied with smooth defiance. “I feel fine.”
Alistair Lennox was breakfasting downstairs for once, so I took the bull by the horns. As I started on my grapefruit I observed as casually as I could that something appeared to be wrong with the towel rail in my bathroom.
“It gave a sort of ‘phut’ and then there was an odd smell.”
Duncan was bringing in a fresh pot of coffee, and happened to overhear me.
“If you will excuse me, Miss Calvert, I am very glad you have mentioned it because one of the fuses blew this morning. Now we shall know where to find the fault.”
Craig looked worried. “That could be very dangerous,” he said. “I’ll see to it myself directly after breakfast. Duncan, you’d better tell the maids to keep away from Miss Calvert’s bathroom for the moment.”
“Very good, sir.”
Mr. Lennox looked a bit nettled, and I guessed he felt his authority was being usurped. But he waited until the servant had gone before handing out a mild rebuke.
“You mustn’t upset Duncan, my boy. He’s a valuable man.”
Craig gave his uncle a surprised look. “Upset Duncan? How?”
“He’s a very competent electrician, you know. After all, he is the one who copes with our generating plant, so he must be quite knowledgeable.”
Craig shrugged. “I imagine he’ll be glad enough to let me fix it. I’m sure he’s got plenty to keep him busy.”
The moment he’d finished eating, Craig got up from the table, and asked permission to go into my room. I would have liked to refuse. A dreadful fear was growing inside me that he would tamper with something else while he was there. Already he’d made two attempts to kill me. The third time he might be lucky.
I determined to keep close to other people today. That seemed the best insurance of safety while I planned how I was to get myself right away, clear of any danger.
Craig was upstairs almost half an hour. When he came down I was in the sitting room, trying to give my attention to Jamie, while Mrs. Lennox sat at the writing table dealing with some correspondence.
Craig showed every appearance of concern about what he’d found in my bathroom. “The live wire was actually touching the casing,” he explained. “Of course, it should have blown the fuse long ago, but the earth connection seemed to be a bit loose.” He smiled grimly. “The towel rail should never have been placed in reach of the bath. I’ve disconnected it now, but I don’t like to think ...”
So he had neatly covered his tracks. There would be no possibility of anyone ever discovering that the towel rail had been tampered with. How cunning of Craig to have dismissed Duncan and taken over the job himself.
I had no doubt about the towel rail being quite safe now. But had Craig taken the opportunity to fix something else? I vowed that if I had to stay another night in this house, I wouldn’t even put a foot in that bathroom. I’d use Jamie’s next door.
And I’d be constantly on my guard with every smallest move I made. Before I ever touched a thing that could by any stretch of the imagination be potentially dangerous, I would pause to consider if it might be a trap.
Mrs. Lennox rose from the writing table, and I gathered from her vague remarks that she was going to get on with her tapestry work. Hastily, I asked if Jamie and I might accompany her. “I’d be fascinated to watch you,” I explained.
She looked faintly surprised, but agreed readily enough.
Once established in her private sitting room, I began to feel a bit safer. I still had no workable ideas about getting away from Glengarron—how to get Jamie and myself well out of reach before the alarm was raised. There wasn’t anyone I could turn to for help.
How could I go the police with such an incredible story? How could I hope to make them believe that there had been two attempts on my life? In both instances any evidence of deliberate tampering would be impossible to find by now.
I did possess one concrete piece of information. I knew Craig had been in Margo’s flat the night she died. But would that fact condemn him? He hadn’t broken any law by being there. And as for his subsequent disappearance, he could claim that he hadn’t known of Margo’s right away. In any case, the police had presumably been satisfied with their inquiries. Would there be the slightest reason for the authorities to believe Craig might have killed his wife?
Besides, something else would inevitably come out in the process of my telling this tale—the fact that Lambert Nairn had been at Margo’s flat earlier the same evening. Everybody would nod their heads knowingly, condemning poor Margo. Nobody else would understand as I did. Nobody else would try to understand. Margo would be labeled promiscuous, little better than a cheap tart. In the world of fashion, people could be very cruel.
My only hope was to get right away, to go into hiding with Jamie, and try to find some more evidence against Craig. Should I engage a private detective to do some investigating for me? The notion seemed wildly fanciful, but it was stuck firm in my mind. I needed something to cling to, right then.
For twenty minutes I’d been trying to show an intelligent interest in Isabel Lennox’s delicate needlework, at the same time stopping a bored Jamie from misbehaving. A tap on the door came as a relief, until I saw that it was Craig.
“Excuse me, Aunt Isabel. I was wondering if Lucy felt like going out on the lake for a while.” All his charm was in the smile he turned on me. “It’s such a lovely morning. We could use the motor launch.”
“Oh no,” I cried out in sudden panic. That would be far too easy for him. I certainly wasn’t going to play into his hands.
Craig looked rather nonplused. “I’m sorry,” he said uncomfortably. “It was just a thought.”
I had to avoid letting him guess how much I knew. He must think I was quite unsuspecting.
Swiftly I adopted an apologetic air. “I still feel a bit shaken up, you see. Maybe it’s best for me to stay indoors.”
“Yes, of course.” His solicitude was back at once. “Perhaps after lunch you might like that outing we didn’t manage yesterday. Just a quiet drive around, with a stop for tea at an inn somewhere.”
I believe I succeeded in turning him down without conveying how afraid I was at the very idea of having a drive alone with him.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I temporized. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving it.”
He went away then, and I guessed he felt at a loss. My determined refusal must have thrown a wrench in the works of his scheming mind.
Jamie and I s
tayed right there with Mrs. Lennox till lunch-time. She appeared not to mind, talking placidly if rather inconclusively about the tapestry she was working on.
I tried to be attentive, interjecting a question now and then. Apparently the tapestry depicted a particularly savage and bloody episode way back in medieval times. Several hundred men had been slain that day, before the McKinross faction emerged victorious, and Glengarron Castle was theirs.
I shuddered involuntarily. “Somehow I imagined that Glengarron had always belonged to your family.”
“No ... we are only here by right of conquest....” Isabel Lennox gave an apologetic little smile. “Time makes history …respectable.”
“Well anyway,” I put in for the sake of something to say, “it’s certainly a fine estate now.”
She nodded, absorbed in threading her needle with crimson silk.
“Of course, the days of the landed gentry are really over. The modern world has no place ...”
Mrs. Lennox dried up, and I made an encouraging noise.
“My brother had plans.... He was going to turn Glengarron into a center for experimental forestry, but...”
“Your husband didn’t carry on with that idea, then?”
Suddenly she was speaking rapidly and lucidly. “My husband was not experienced in forestry management when he took over here. Glengarron was already an efficient and profitable concern. He thought it best not to make any major changes.”
She had all the vehemence of an unwilling protagonist. I got the distinct impression that Alistair Lennox had kept things as they were simply because he reveled in the aristocratic way of life. I knew his wife didn’t share his tastes in this respect. I guessed she would infinitely prefer Glengarron to be used for something like forestry research, leaving her to lead a quiet, retiring sort of life.
I tried to steer the conversation around to the subject of Craig’s marriage. Even with Jamie right there in the room, I had to snatch this chance of finding out more about Craig and Margo. But Isabel Lennox made so many false starts and sudden stops that in the end I had to give up. I couldn’t make it out. Why was she suddenly so agitated? Was it the thought of Craig’s inhuman conduct? Or did she believe Margo responsible for the rift, and wished to avoid speaking critically of my cousin?
Whatever the reason, it was perfectly clear that I wasn’t going to get any useful information out of Isabel Lennox.
Chapter 12
Fiona was away from home, playing in a golf tournament at Glenoustie. For the last couple of days she had been angling for Craig to go too. But in spite of her entreaties, in spite of all her pretty pouting, he had persistently refused.
Eventually Fiona had accepted defeat and tried to dodge going herself. “I think I’ll miss it too. It’ll be a frightful bore, anyway.”
“Oh darling,” began her mother in fainthearted protest. “Do you really think ... ? I mean, at the very last minute ... ?”
Mr. Lennox cut right across his wife’s meanderings. “You’ll do nothing of the kind, Fiona,” he said sternly. “I’m not going to have you setting a bad example like that.”
She accepted the flat ruling with surprising meekness. Fiona led an idle life of pleasure and she was indulged in every minor whim. But I was beginning to see that Alistair Lennox expected his daughter to conform to the social pattern of her class. He just wouldn’t tolerate anything that might prejudice the family’s superior position among the Highland elite.
Fiona had flounced off early this morning, and I wasn’t sorry to see her go. My guilt about suspecting her of pushing those logs down on me was largely wiped out by her utter indifference to the fact that I had almost been killed. At no time had she made even a token gesture of asking how I felt after such a shattering experience.
Her parents, though, had maintained their anxious concern about my well-being.
“And how do you feel now, my dear?” Alistair Lennox inquired, when we were all gathered together for the ritual pre-luncheon glass of sherry. “I trust you are suffering no uncomfortable side effects.”
“I’m much better, thank you.”
Mr. Lennox went on to explain that after lunch he had a business matter to attend to some twenty miles away. “My wife will be coming with me for the drive. Perhaps you and Jamie would care to join us ... ?”
I hesitated, sensing Craig’s sharp glance in my direction. I had just turned him down on the grounds that I didn’t feel well enough to go. Dare I now accept his uncle’s invitation? Yet if I stayed behind, Jamie and I would be left alone with Craig.
I decided I’d have to risk making it obvious that I was scared of him. He’d know I was suspicious, but it couldn’t be helped.
But hesitation lost me my chance. Craig cut in swiftly, “I’ve already offered to take Lucy out, Uncle. Unfortunately she still doesn’t feel up to it.”
Alistair Lennox courteously smiled his regret. “Another time then, my dear. You just take it quietly this afternoon. Put your feet up with a book by the fire.” With a pretended ferocity he glared at Jamie. “And pack that young man off with one of the maids. You can’t get any rest with such a lively imp around you all the time.”
Let Jamie out of my sight? Never. From now on he was going to stay right with me, every single minute. I would take him up to his bedroom, lock the door firmly, and remain there with him until the Lennoxes returned.
I’d been wondering if I might get a chance to use the telephone unobserved. But who could I call? Who could I talk to about my fears? Craig McKinross was the Laird of one of the greatest estates in the Highlands. A well-liked man with an ancient and respected name. I was merely the cousin of his dead wife—the wife who, it would be generally believed, had let him down badly.
I must be wary of taking hasty, ill-considered action that served no purpose. Twice already Craig had tried to kill me by a staged accident. If I showed my hand incautiously he might decide to kill me first, and arrange the “accident” afterward. It wouldn’t be all that difficult for a man in his high position.
Soon after two o’clock, just as the Lennoxes were leaving, I marched Jamie upstairs to his room.
“But, Lucy, I want to go to the beach again.”
“Not today, darling. I... I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
“Daddy will take me then.” I believe he was already old enough to see through my headache.
I had to be firm. “No, Jamie, you’re staying right here with me.” Then I tried wheedling. “Would you like me to read to you?”
Unfortunately, I had done my job too well. The little boy who such a short time ago had clung to me obsessively, was fast growing independent. He’d be quite happy to wander around the castle on his own, and look for someone else to take him down to the beach. His father, or indeed anyone who was willing.
Normally Jamie was so cooperative, but now he went sulky on me. In the end I had to get really cross with him. “Stop that, and go and play with your toys.”
He was quiet eventually. Having clambered up onto his bed to make a tent of the eiderdown, he fell right off to sleep. I was half dozing myself, my book fallen to the floor, when I heard a tap on the door. I jumped and looked at my watch. Four-thirty.
I called out cautiously. “Yes? Who’s there?”
“It’s me—Craig.” His voice sounded reproachful. “Aren’t you coming down for some tea, Lucy?”
I’d forgotten all about tea. “I ... I don’t really think I want any, thank you.” It was the best I could manage on the spur of the moment.
“Well, what about Jamie?”
“Jamie’s asleep.”
“Lucy,” said Craig in a different voice. “I want to talk to you.”
I got up and went nearer the door, scared now of waking Jamie. “Talk to me, Craig? What about?”
He tried the handle, and discovered the door was locked.
“Are you trying to avoid me or something, Lucy?”
“Avoid you?” The little laugh I put on was a shade too shrill. “
Of course I’m not. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Why do we have to talk through a closed door? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
The situation was becoming absurd. I had to act normally and sensibly.
“I ... I am just...” I sought around wildly for some good excuse for keeping Craig out. I couldn’t very well say I was changing my clothes—not in Jamie’s room. “I ... I’m just repairing a tear in my dress,” I improvised quickly. “We’ll come down as soon as I’ve finished.”
“All right then. But don’t be long, will you?”
I didn’t hear Craig walk away, but of course the corridor was thickly carpeted.
If we didn’t go downstairs, I guessed that Craig would soon be back. And he might not be brushed off so easily next time. I tried to convince myself that I was panicking unnecessarily. What harm could Craig possibly do to me in front of his son? And with the servants close at hand?
I woke Jamie and told him we were going down to tea.
“Goody! Will there be some of that lovely choc’late cake?”
“I expect so.”
In spite of my feverish rationalization, it still took quite some nerve to leave the security of Jamie’s room. The door had seemed to give protection far beyond the slender strength of its lock. As a barrier, it would have been pretty useless. But going through the doorway was like quitting the safe waters of harbor for the stormy open sea.
Cautiously I looked out, both ways. The corridor was empty, all the other doors closed. It was utterly quiet, so that I heard my own sharply indrawn breath when Jamie pushed me impatiently.
“Come on,” he urged, tugging at my hand.
We went quickly downstairs and found Craig in the small sitting room, waiting for us. As we entered, he pressed the service bell.
“Hello there, mischief,” he greeted Jamie. “Tea in a minute.”
The little boy made a beeline for his father, and Craig swept him off his feet, high into the air. “How’s that?”
Call of Glengarron Page 13
