The inspector did his best to sound butch and masculine, but he had had to get Cook to open the gun room for him to get the shotguns, and he was uneasy with any firearms, especially ones he held himself, but only the slightest of tremors gave away his state of mind, given the fact that the shotguns were not loaded, and had only ever been intended to act as a bluff.
‘But we know …’ Lady Amanda started to utter, but was immediately silenced by Glenister.
‘I know you probably know every little detail, but I need it from the horses’ mouths, so just keep shtum for now. Remember, I know your reputation from talking to my nephew, and I’ll give you the opportunity to let me know just how clever you’ve been, later, when I’ve got the goods from this little lot.’
‘Before we all leave this delightful area of the castle,’ she cut in, ‘I suggest that you have a word with Macdonald. I’m sure there’s someone else involved, and someone from the outside staff would fit the bill admirably. Don’t ask questions, just do it!’ I’ll explain when you’ve got him; or rather they’ll do that for you.
‘They could never have run this little scam without someone who really knew the castle and the woods like the back of his hand, and Cardew didn’t know the woods sufficiently. They also needed someone who would not be out of place anywhere on the estate, or in the less used parts of the castle.
‘Who would suspect a head game-keeper? He’d need to be inside to consult his employer, check the guns and ammunition, and for meals and refreshments. He’s rather like a postman – not even noticed as a person in his own right; just someone that one would expect to see about, just getting on with his job.
‘Mind the broken glasses as you go out, and I suggest you let these three go first, Inspector. If Macdonald has got wind of this, he’ll be waiting at the top of the stairs. Just tell them to be as silent as the grave or you’ll plug one of them. And if you don’t, I will. They can’t get far, all handcuffed together like that.’
With a smile of superiority on her face, she muttered, ‘Well done, Beauchamp! That really was thinking outside the tantalus, let alone the box.’
Macdonald hadn’t proved difficult to locate. He knew that the racket was clearing out of the castle and, therefore, his domain, and he was making the most of his last opportunity to be a taster for the product they had manufactured.
He’d made himself scarce during the loading of the lorry, and had been drinking in solitude in the servant’s hall, when Lady A et al had gone down the dungeon steps. It was he who had alerted Colcolough, and then been sent off to find the other two. While he waited for them to emerge, he had sipped his way rapidly into an alcoholic stupor at the great kitchen table, and it was there they found him now, the bottle knocked over by his arm, his head on the wood, snoring the snore of the absolutely blotto.
‘Cook’s OK,’ Beauchamp announced, apropos of nothing, but was understood perfectly by Glenister, who also believed Cook to be on the side of the angels, since it was she who had given him access to the arms he and MacDuff had used to bluff their way through the potential disaster that never materialised, down in the dungeons.
‘When we’ve got this little lot’s hash settled,’ he pronounced, ‘I’ll send MacDuff to fetch her, and she can watch over him until reinforcements arrive. I’ve already put out a call, but we’re not being treated to any more fancy and expensive choppers. The minor roads are all clear now, so they’ll be arriving by road.
We spent quite a bit of time down in the dungeons playing ‘who’s going to shoot first’, so I don’t think she’ll have long to stand guard before they get here, then she can get back to bed.’
‘I doubt she’ll do that, Inspector. Knowing Cook, she’ll want the ins and outs of a duck’s arse, before she’ll rest.’
‘ENID!’ bellowed Lady A, and the head gamekeeper twitched in his sleep. ‘Where did you learn language like that?’
‘From my mother,’ Mrs Tweedie replied, with a smile of sweet innocence on her face.
‘Well, I’ll be jiggered!’ exclaimed Lady A, in flabbergasted tones, and followed the others to the library, where there was sufficient seating for them all, including an extra-long and extremely uncomfortable sofa, to accommodate the three who were joined together with a bond that was, without a key, unbreakable, and probably a darned sight stronger than the loose business arrangement they had been enjoying, from what was now, and always had been, Lady Siobhan’s estate.
As it turned out, the three aristocratic co-conspirators couldn’t wait to rat on each other, and the tale of the manufacture and distribution of the moonshine was soon unravelling with a plethora of cross-accusations about who had done what.
It was as Lady Amanda and the gang had suspected. The illegal liquor was made in the still in the forest, then transported to the castle cellar. There, it was bottled and labelled, and flavour was added, so that the product had some variety.
After that, it was collected by lorry, courtesy of Menzies’ haulage business, and taken to the coast, where it was ferried over to an agreed spot in the wilds of the Irish coast, boats courtesy of Wriothesley’s so-called fishing business. The only mystery was how the slimy Colcolough fitted into the deal, and he gave this information to them of his own free will.
He was the money man. Both the haulage business and the fishing business of two of the partners had been in a parlous state, and he had been persuaded to invest in what they were doing, in order to get them each out of a financial hole. Cardew was similarly financially embarrassed, having enjoyed a fondness for horseracing and poker, about which Siobhan had known nothing, as he indulged in both of these gambling activities via the internet. He had been more than happy to offer the castle and its estate for the manufacture of the product.
The money was split four ways, with a small remuneration to Macdonald, for his part in their nefarious activities, which had been going on for a few years now.
‘But why the murders?’ asked Glenister, genuinely interested in how the piper had got involved, and what had caused the fall-out that resulted in Sir Cardew’s bizarre murder.
‘Jock Macleod overheard us planning to move the latest batch. My God, what an innocent the man was.’ This was Grizzly Rizzly speaking, and he appeared eager to share the simple honesty of the ex-piper with them as an act of unbelievable folly. ‘He ought to have asked for a “wee cut”, as he’d no doubt have referred to it, and he’d probably have got away with that. The poor lad, though, threatened to turn us over to the police. He had no idea what danger he was putting himself in.’
They were all quick to point the finger at Macdonald for the murder of the piper, but they fought like dogs over who had dropped the broadsword so accurately on Cardew, thus turning him into a giant, human, late-Saturday-night-snack of meat on a skewer. It was still stomach-churning even to think about what he had looked like, and it appeared as if the three were on the verge of blaming that on Macdonald as well, when the small sinewy man himself joined them, hanging by the scruff of his neck from the ham-like hand of Cook.
He looked to be in a bad way, still blurry with sleep, and still suffering more than a little from the effects of his ingestion of the illegal alcohol. She dumped him unceremoniously on the sofa, saying, ʻYer wee man woke up, so I thought he ought to join the party, as he was one of the party-planners in the first place,’ before stumping out of the room to take a look at Siobhan, who had been sent straight to bed, with the doctor summoned to check her over.
Cook had no intention whatsoever of waking Evelyn Waule, and retiring to her bed, where she’d miss any of the excitement still to come, if she didn’t have to. That way, she’d have a real tale to tell at breakfast, and she’d be the centre of attention for some time to come, as well as making Evelyn as jealous as hell, that it had been her who had looked after the lady of the house, and not her, her own lady’s maid.
Picking up the threads of where he had been in his questioning, Glenister next asked, ‘Why did you kill Cardew? Was there a fallin
g out between you?’
‘You bet there was,’ replied Colcolough. ‘I put up the money to get this thing started, and provided the contacts across the water, but when I sneaked a look at the books, when Cardew was otherwise engaged, I could see he was skimming off money for his own personal use.
‘A quick break-in of his computer, with a well-guessed password – he never was cunning enough for this sort of life – clearly showed that he had a bank account in the Cayman Islands, and there was a ticket in his desk, one way. He was going to have it on his toes with the majority of the money, leaving us to take the rap should word ever get out. What a bastard! He got no more than he deserved!’
‘And so shall you, Mr Colcolough. So shall you, along with your partners in crime.’ This statement hadn’t quite the drama that Glenister expected, as it was accompanied by loud snores and snorts from Macdonald, who had fallen asleep the moment he settled on the sofa Cook had dropped him on. ‘And he’s in for a shock when he wakes up,’ the inspector concluded, glaring at the old man who had just rained on his parade.
‘But who was the woman in all this?’ asked Hugo, eager to solve his own personal mystery.
‘What woman?’ asked Menzies, as all three of the handcuffed men looked puzzled.
‘When you were about your night-time activities, moving the stuff about. Manda and I sleep on that side of the castle, and have rooms that overlook the exterior to the door to where you stored your hooch.
‘Twice, I woke up to find a woman in a black veil leaning over me, while I’d been sleeping, so I assumed she was just checking that neither of us was awake. She wouldn’t have woken Manda, because she sleeps like the dead, but she woke me and scared the living daylights out of me.’
‘There was no woman!’ exclaimed Colcolough indignantly.
‘We’d never trust a woman with that sort of secret!’ declared Menzies with fervour.
‘Nothing to do with us,’ confirmed Wriothesley. ‘You must have been dreaming. Nobody checked on any of the guests to see if they were sleeping.’
Hugo went as white as a sheet, and clammed up like an oyster – or a clam, come to think of it. He’d have to pretend he hadn’t heard those emphatic denials, if he were to spend any more time in this ancient building, and there was no way he was going to sleep in that room again. No way!
At that juncture, the police summoned to help take the three reported, but now four, men into custody arrived with a van. The danger had passed, but they had with them a police marksman, in case a state of siege had been in existence when they arrived. Thanks to Beauchamp and Lady Amanda, this had been prevented, but the armed policeman might have proved very useful if half-brother and sister hadn’t thought to come armed on this visit, with nothing but a hunch to cause them so to do.
With the wrong-doers in custody and out of the castle, the stragglers decided that it was necessary for them to get at least a few hours’ sleep, so that they would be fresh to speak to Siobhan in the morning, to get her side of the story.
Cook reappeared after the van had left, and informed them that she had stripped the rooms of the three no-longer-present guests, for use by the police, should they wish to take advantage of the accommodation. They would be much more comfortable there than in the cots that had been put out for them in an empty staff bedroom, and both the inspector and the constable agreed with alacrity, being dead on their feet, without actually being deceased, which had been a distinct possibility earlier on in the night.
Hugo, who was still as silent as the grave, asked if he might use one of the rooms, as he had taken a sudden dislike to his quarters, and could do with a change, and was given the thumbs-up. And that was everything that could be done, dealt with for the night.
As they left, to go upstairs, Lady Amanda turned to her old friend and said, ‘Hugo, that blast on that horn was completely off-the-wall. Where did you get it?’
‘Yes!’ replied Hugo, enigmatically, and disappeared into the room he was about to vacate.
There, he collected his necessary possessions for spending the night in a different room, and retired to bed tired, but unworried about surprise night-time visitors. He had only been asleep for an hour, however, when the strident skirl of the pipes woke him, and he was so incensed, that he waited for the piper to round the castle and, when he was just below his window, hurled his alarm clock at him with great accuracy, and a roar to ‘Bloody well shut up!’
There was a cry of pain, followed by the dismal sound of a set of pipes deflating, and Hugo was, at last, able to get some well-earned rest.
Chapter Eleven
None of those involved in the previous night’s caper woke before noon, and didn’t arrive downstairs until nearly one o’clock. The doctor had called, hours earlier, to examine Siobhan, to check that she had suffered no long-lasting harm from her incarceration, and she had ventured downstairs just before noon.
By the time the other guests involved in the previous night’s activities appeared, she had ordered lunch for one-thirty, and instructed Cook that dinner was now never to be served before eight. She was already taking over the reins of the running of the castle, and was raring to go, as far as the rest of the estate was concerned.
She had already summoned the outside staff and ordered them to remove all trace of the still, once the police had all the evidence they needed, and was already planning residential shooting parties in season, and a host of other activities that would support the running needs of the castle without resorting to crime. She was a woman reborn.
Once it had dawned on her that she and her husband lived totally separate lives, and that the love between them had been lost some time ago, she also woke up to the fact that the castle was, in fact, hers, and had never been his, to run. Not only did she intend to really live now, but she might even look for a like-minded partner who would share this brave new world with her, although she would never again contemplate marriage.
Without her heavy make-up and elaborate out-of-date hair-do, she looked ten years younger, and after the shock of all that had happened, felt it as well, flooded with relief and gratitude to still be alive, and with the opportunity to rearrange her life to her own satisfaction.
‘I’ve organised a celebratory dinner for tonight:’ she informed her remaining guests at luncheon, ‘one that will help to erase the terrible events that have taken place here during your stay, and perhaps encourage you to believe that Castle Rumdrummond isn’t such a bad place after all. It will represent a wake for Cardew and Macleod, and celebrate the fact that I’ve got my common sense back, after years of living in a fugue state. I’ve also arranged for the piper to play for us, for some dancing.
‘Funny, but he had a lump on his forehead when I spoke to him earlier, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about how he got it.’
Hugo sat and blushed quietly to himself. He didn’t feel in the least guilty; just justified. Just before luncheon was served, he toddled round to the side of the castle from which his room looked out, and retrieved his alarm clock, unharmed, from the bare twigs of a shrub, into which it had ricocheted from the piper’s head. He slipped it to Beauchamp, whom he ran across on re-entry, to be returned to his new quarters, leaving no one any the wiser about how the piper had been injured.
Lunch proved to be a much jollier affair than usual, with a couple of bottles of the excellent wines that the amateur sleuths had discovered in the cellar sitting on the table for their enjoyment. Once again, Siobhan was in her element.
‘I never really approved of this being a dry house,’ she informed them. ‘I have always been of the opinion that a man who doesn’t drink has something to hide; that he would be afraid of what he might reveal under the influence of alcohol, and I seem to have been proved right.
‘From now on, this is a normal household, which will have wines upon its table and sherry before dinner, for all who wish to indulge. And as for that terrible bilge that Cardew insisted was served after dinner, I’ve had Cook pour it down the sink.
From now on there will be port and brandy for all who want them.’
As they left the table, Lady A whispered to Hugo, ‘I think we’ll still indulge in our private cocktail session this evening, don’t you? After all, we’ll be going home tomorrow. Beauchamp and Enid will leave as soon as cocktails are partaken of, and we have flights booked for tomorrow afternoon. I took the liberty of using the telephone just before you came down, having apprised Beauchamp of my decision.’
‘Oh, goody-goody-gumdrops!’ exclaimed Hugo, with an unexpected return to nursery language. ‘I do so miss our normal everyday life, and I shall be very grateful to get back to just pootling through life with no alarums and scares.’ Hugo’s memory could be very fickle at times. ‘And now I think I’ll go for another little snooze. Long night, what ho?’
At six-thirty sharp, Beauchamp and Enid entered Lady Amanda’s room to find Hugo there, waiting for them, Lady Amanda sprawling in a chair before the blazing grate, half-asleep. The arrival of the drinks tray, however, soon had her back to full consciousness.
‘I have taken the liberty of providing two turbo-charged Snowballs for the ladies, one a double for your ladyship, and a much smaller one for Enid. I have also brought a double Scotch Mist for Mr Hugo, and a rather more innocuous cocktail for myself – an Apple of my Eye – as I shall be driving after this last of our evening meetings.’
‘Golly, you can sound pompous at times, Beechie, old stick,’ Lady Amanda ragged him, then realised what she’d called him. ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry about that, Beauchamp. I didn’t mean to offend you. I don’t know what came over me!’
‘No offence taken. And I did address you rather informally, twice, in the aftermath of my misadventure in the snow, so perhaps we ought to call it quits.’ Although neither of them would admit it, they both felt a half-fraternal affection for each other, not only because they had known each other for so long, but also because of the blood-tie, of which both of them were now aware.
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