‘He has, aye,’ replied Macdonald. ‘He has one o’ they CB radio jobbies, and he did some speakin’ on that afore he told everyone in the dining room. Walter from the indoor staff’ll be comin’ oot here when the breakfast’s done with, to take my place. I’m to round up the outdoor staff so we can clear some o’ the ground for the big machine.’
‘What big machine’s that, Macdonald?’ Hugo had finally found his voice.
‘Tae bring the doctor and the police, sir,’ replied Macdonald, pronouncing ‘police’ as ‘po-liss’. ‘They’re travelling here by helicopter. It’s the only way, when the weather’s like this, and ye cannae use the roads.’
‘And you’re sure you didnae do this? I don’t see you running for the hills.’
Lady Amanda treated this last remark with the contempt it deserved, and left him to it, her ears ringing with his broad Scots accent, which seemed, to her ears, ridiculously exaggerated. ‘I don’t know, Hugo,’ she said, as they walked back towards the relative warmth of the castle, ‘That’s the Scots all over. If they’re not rolling their ‘r’s at you, they’re rolling their eyes.
‘But who the hell stole my hip flask to use to plant on the piper’s body? Someone unauthorised has been in my room, and I intend to find out who that was. If that doesn’t turn up the actual murderer, it will probably turn up an accomplice. Hmph!’
They entered through the staff door to alert Beauchamp and Enid that they would be needed for a consultation, and found the staff in little huddles, whispering, conspiratorially, it seemed to them.
The news had also curdled the social order with the guests, and they, too, were sitting about in pairs and trios, muttering to each other. As the quartet headed up the stairs, Lady Amanda commented, ‘That’s killed the conviviality as well as the piper, hasn’t it? I’ve never seen a bunch of people look so guilty in my life.
‘I know people react unnaturally to something like this, Beauchamp, before you remind me of it, but there really is an atmosphere of furtiveness in the air, not just with the guests, but with the staff as well. Is it only an exaggerated reaction to Pipie’s death, or is there more to it than that?’
After all the busyness of preparing for and executing the Burns’ Night dinner, and their stay being such a short one, Beauchamp did not think he would need to transfer the cocktail ingredients he had kept in his room since his arrival, but with the heavy fall of snow, he had managed to bring them all up to Lady Amanda’s room, as she and Hugo were obviously going nowhere fast.
He felt, after even such a short time since his real identity had been revealed, less embarrassed if asked to sit down and join his half-sister for a cocktail or afternoon tea, the feeling of guilt being replaced with one of contentment: that he at last belonged where he lived, and there would be no more secrets or pretence on his part.
He had, however, moved the things for afternoon tea into Mr Hugo’s room shortly after they arrived, as he didn’t want any of the staff tampering with his cake tin or his supply of biscuits, let alone his half-sister’s precious supplies of Earl Grey and Darjeeling, and it was a pot of this latter that he brewed for them, to oil the wheels of speculation, as they discussed what might have happened to the unfortunate piper.
Hugo threw a couple more logs on to the fire, now that they had a decent supply, and the four of them gathered round the hearth with their steaming cups and plates. ‘There’s one thing to be said about cold temperatures,’ ventured Hugo. ‘They really stimulate the appetite. I suppose that’s because the body has to work so much harder to keep warm, and I’ve got plenty of body working on that, as have you, Manda.’
‘Hugo! Is that a reference to my weight?’ barked Lady A, an indignant frown crossing her face.
‘I’m only stating that neither of us is emaciated. You never looked like Twiggy, even in your youth; you have to admit that, and I could never have been described as tall, slim, and elegant. We’re a couple of “portlies”, and nothing can disguise that.’
‘I really don’t think this is the time or the place to be discussing our body shapes, Hugo. We have a murder to solve, and I’ve been mulling things over about this place. I haven’t been here for some years, of course, but the atmosphere just isn’t the same. It used to be a very friendly household. The members of staff – of whom, I might point out, there used to be considerably more – as well as the guests, were always convivial, but there seems to be some tension in the air.
‘I know we were all focussed on Burns’ Night, but beneath that there was a reserve I’ve never been aware of in the past. The only people I’ve really spoken to are Drew and Moira, who were placed with us at table.
‘Of course, I’ve known them for an age, but I’ve met all the other guests before, with the exception of Menzies, on whom Siobhan seems to have rather a crush, and they’ve been, on the whole, standoffish. I don’t know how you feel about how things are at the moment, Beauchamp. Do you detect a difference from when you last came? I know that was before Mama died the first time, but I missed quite a few visits before that, and you and my parents came on their own. Is it me, or is it the place?’
‘I can definitely detect a change in atmosphere, especially if you remember that, when Enid and I arrived, there were two maids trying to tear each other’s hair out downstairs, and not a soul made an effort to separate them.
‘Cook would never have tolerated that in the past. She’d have given them a severe reprimand, and reported their behaviour to their respective employers. Had they worked here, not only would they have been reprimanded, but would have had their employment terminated, as well. Now, she doesn’t seem to care much about anything.’
‘Everyone seemed really happy when they were dancing last night,’ interjected Enid, innocently.
‘Did you see the dead look in that maid’s eyes?’ asked Beauchamp, who was very observant. ‘That big lump of a girl that no one seemed of a mind to dance with?’ he clarified, with an interrogatory inflexion in his voice. ‘Well, that’s the look that a lot of the residents of this house seem to possess at the moment, so I definitely think there’s something amiss here.’
‘The food’s certainly not as good as it was before, and I can’t be sure whether that’s down to the staff, or the quality of the ingredients, but the place is definitely less convivial than it used to be. Although many of the staff have changed, that never seemed to matter before. Cook would wear her bonhomie like a crown, and radiated it over everyone within reach of her. Now, she seems more introverted. I think I’ll try to get her on her own and ask her what’s happened to alter things.’
‘You could have a “wee chat” with Macdonald, too. I don’t think he’s comfortable in the company of women,’ suggested Lady A. ‘Enid, you can do your worst with the rest of them, and Hugo and I will make great efforts to ingratiate ourselves with the guests, as we’re all stuck here for a while, and not just because of the murder.
‘Oh, by the way, when Hugo and I were outside …’ Here, she gave an account of her and Hugo’s discoveries out at the scene of the crime, concluding with, ‘And they’ve notified the Procurator Fiscal, and a doctor and a representative of the police will be arriving by helicopter. The outside staff have been summoned to clear a piece of ground for it to land.
‘I just wish we had dear old PC Glenister here. I’m really going to miss his inside information and cooperation. He’s become quite one of the gang, even if he does work for that sour-faced Inspector Moody, and he always used to tip us the wink if we needed to know anything.’
‘Just be pleased it’s not old Lemon-Chops who’ll be working on this murder,’ Hugo exhorted her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘With our luck we’ll probably get Inspector McLemon-Chops, his Scottish cousin, or something similar. But let’s lighten the atmosphere a little. I have, in my handbag, a list of the current guests, and I’m sure we’d all enjoy it immensely if Enid would care to attempt to read it to us.’
‘That’s me,’ Enid declared, ‘always t
he clown,’ and she prepared to be ribbed mercilessly when she couldn’t decipher, with any accuracy, all the ridiculous names that people of Lady A’s acquaintance seemed to own.
The sound of an approaching helicopter was discernible just before noon, and a landing place had been prepared for it in an area of pasture not far from the castle. A route to the castle already existed, in the form of the track that had been cleared by the estate workers to access the landing area so that they could remove the snow, so Macdonald was sent up there in a decrepit Land Rover to meet both medical man and representatives of the law.
Lady Amanda, eager to get a head start, in case the Scottish lawmen were resistant to her charms, began to infiltrate the cliques that had formed, dragging the hapless Hugo in her wake for, although she knew Moira and Drew Ruthven, and had kept in rather sketchy touch with them, there were those in attendance that she had not seen for two decades, and one she had never met before.
She proceeded on the assumption that, if she spent some time working on her acquaintanceship with Moira, she could subtly coerce her into introducing her round those she had not met for so long, and provide introductions to Menzies, whom she had never met.
Moira, pleased with the attention, picked up the subliminal message that Lady A was furiously beaming at her, and proceeded to do just as it was hoped she would, starting with Wallace Menzies, who was sitting chatting in the cathedral-like space for which drawing room seemed such an inadequate description, with the Smellies, the room providing many groupings of seating to fill its vastness.
Elspeth announced that this was the first time they had attended for many a year, but they’d just felt like a little break after the hectic chaos that was Christmas with their large family. She, too, was of the opinion that the atmosphere had changed in some subtle way since they had last attended.
Although her husband seemed to be in agreement with this opinion, saying that some of the conviviality had gone out of it, Menzies, who claimed – untruthfully, in Lady A’s opinion, otherwise why didn’t she recognise him – that he had not missed a Burns’ Night since he was a ‘wee laddie’, opined that it seemed exactly the same as it always had done, to him.
Lady A immediately concluded that a change would not be noted, if it were subtle, by someone who never missed the January visit, if that were true, but was much more likely to be apparent to someone, like herself, who had not been for several years, and she made a mental note to seek out the Smellies later, to have a chat about how they thought things had changed, in the specific.
Seeing that they were on the move again, Moira materialised at their side and steered them over to a trio speaking in low tones, away from the fire and the rest of the others. Here, she and Hugo were formally introduced to Quinton Wriothesley (Grizzly Rizzly, when he was the subject of a conversation in which he was not involved), Ralf Colcolough (Kooky Koukli – ditto) and St John Bagehot (Bedbug Bedsit – ditto).
Lady A learnt within minutes that two of them had some sort of tenuous connection with the estate, but having made her a gift of that nugget of information, they then turned the subject to the death of the piper.
‘Damned rum thing to happen when one is visiting, I must say, knocking off the household piper,’ Bagehot opened the subject, his eyes darting round his little group as if he harboured suspicions that one of them might be responsible for the deed.
Hugo picked up on this, and his face became an indignant mask. ‘Surely it must have been some outsider who had a grudge against him.’
‘Who says it might not just have been a heart attack?’ interjected Moira, re-joining the group. ‘Playing the pipes is not easy. It required a lot of strength and energy just to get a note out of the beastie. I know: I’ve tried.’
‘Because we’ve seen the body,’ Lady Amanda informed her, ‘and he’d been run through with a sharp implement. Of course, this being a castle, with weaponry displayed all over the walls, the first supposition is that it was a sword, but I might be wrong.’ She wasn’t needlessly giving away inside information; more, she wanted to see what effect this titbit had on those present which, with the addition to Moira, had become the main group in the room.
‘And there was something rather odd in his sporran,’ she added, wickedly, then nodded to Hugo as she observed the faces around her.
Hugo took his cue with a smile of gratitude on his face. He didn’t often get to impart information of this import. ‘There was a small flask of whisky in it, and a piece of paper with ‘a wee dram afore ye go’ written on it. God knows what that means, but the police might be able to make something of it.’
‘And it was handwritten, not printed,’ added his partner in sleuthing, just to get things nicely stirred, ‘So I expect they’ll bring in a handwriting expert.’
‘I don’t think we should let any of that worry us,’ soothed Moira. ‘It must be some sort of falling out he had with one of the estate staff, or someone from the local town. It can’t be one of us; we’re all civilised people, with impeccable upbringings and backgrounds, and all that good stuff.’
‘Hear hear!’ added Drew, in support of his wife’s irrefutable logic, and the group began to melt away and glide into other formations and combinations.
When there were just the two of them again, Hugo asked Lady A if she had learnt anything from their little bombshells. ‘Only that there are a good few poker faces around here,’ she replied, as someone tapped her on the shoulder.
It was their hostess, Lady Siobhan, just bursting with news. ‘Spit it out, old girl,’ urged Lady A, as the other woman looked like she might burst if she didn’t speak soon.
‘There’s to be a wake,’ she announced. ‘I know that nobody’s going to be allowed to leave until the police are satisfied, so we’re going to have a wake for our poor, dear piper, the day after tomorrow. It’s going to be for staff and guests. We’ll have it in here, with whisky and a buffet.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she reassured them, as Hugo’s face had taken on a stricken look. ‘It won’t be rowdy. There’ll be dancing, of course, and stories about him told, but there’ll be another wake for him with all his family. This is just a gesture to show how much we appreciated him, and mourn his passing.’
‘But I haven’t a black tie with me,’ bleated Hugo, feeling seriously underprepared for an event such as this.
‘No need for anything like that, Hugo, dear. This will be in full highland gear, and what you wore for Burns’ Night will be absolutely perfect. It’s just a celebration of his life, and having a last good time for him.
‘And as for tomorrow, do, please take advantage of any of the facilities offered by the estate. There’ll be deer stalking, if anyone’s interested, a horse-drawn sleigh ride for the less energetic, and even skiing lessons, should anyone feel the urge. There’s a great piece of ground at the back of the castle that makes a perfect nursery slope.
‘I’ll put three pieces of paper on the dining table so that people can put their names down for what they’d like to do, then I’ll liaise with the policemen, so that we can coordinate keeping him happy with interviews, and keeping everybody else busy and amused.’
‘Have you met the policeman who’s going to be in charge of this case?’ asked Lady A, thinking: know thine enemy.
‘No yet. He and the medical chappie are ensconced in Cardew’s study as we speak, but, thank God the phones are on again, so we’re back in touch with the outside world again. It’s such a bore, only being able to speak to people with CB radios – all that ‘breaker, breaker’ nonsense, you know. They’re a bunch of nuts, in my opinion. Oh, by the way, I think he wants to speak to you first, Manda, due to it being your hip flask found in Pipie’s sporran,’ Siobhan finished before wandering off to see to her lists.
‘I do wish she wouldn’t plaster her face with so much make-up or wear her hair in that ridiculously out-of-date fashion,’ she said to Hugo. ‘She’d look ten years younger if she just got a decent haircut and applied just the teeniest smear of
make-up. She’s got no chance with our handsome Menzies, looking the way she does: although Cardew’s probably quite happy about that.’
An hour later, in Lady Amanda’s room, a fierce argument was raging, Beauchamp and Enid both in attendance, but keeping well out of it. ‘I want to do a sleigh ride, Manda,’ wailed Hugo.
‘You can want as much as you like, Hugo. You’re going skiing, and that’s that,’ countered Lady Amanda, her hands on her hips and her head raised autocratically.
‘And do I get little skis for my walking sticks?’
‘You get ski sticks, you silly old fusspot.’
‘But, why can’t I go on the sleigh ride? I bet you’re going to.’
‘I certainly am not. I’m going deer stalking.’
‘You’re what?’ cried Hugo, aghast.
‘I’ve got a fair idea of who’s going on the sleigh ride, and the interesting ones will be either deer stalking or skiing. The sleigh won’t be out for long, and Enid and Beauchamp can do their darndest to find out about the ones who have selected the sedate option, whom I think will be Siobhan, Drew and Moira.
‘Surely, between the two of us, we can get in a few pertinent questions on our excursions?’
‘On the way to hospital, you mean?’
‘Hugo, don’t be such a wet blanket. They know what they’re doing. I should think everyone on this estate can ski, given the weather conditions in these parts, and the number of years most of them have been coming here.’
‘If I break a leg, I shall find some way of suing you.’
‘Hugo, you won’t even break one of your beautifully trimmed nails,’ she informed him, in the tone of voice that brooked no more argument.
A discreet knock at the door revealed Walter Waule, who requested that Lady Amanda accompany him to Sir Cardew’s study, where the inspector was waiting to question her. Hugo was to go down when she returned, followed by Beauchamp and Enid, the four people most likely to have placed the hip flask where it had been found. It was, at the moment, a very incriminating object.
Belchester Box Set Page 41
