The Balmoral Incident

by Alanna Knight

  As I rushed out to get my bicycle, Mabel said: ‘Shall I come? I know where he is …’

  Listening to her directions I said: ‘You stay here,’ knowing she wouldn’t be much use. I had dealt with, nursed and bandaged a lot of badly injured men in my far-off days in Arizona. It was not an experience I expected to encounter on the royal estate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  It was Bobby Biggs. I was bending over him as minutes later Jock and the lads with cart and stretcher arrived. As I had feared, just one look, and I knew he was dead. His head at a queer angle told a grim tale. He had been thrown and his neck was broken.

  As the lads gathered him up, Jock, shaking his head sadly, looked at my face. I was shocked and sad. It seemed such a waste of a young life. Jock said: ‘Dinna ye grieve, miss. He didna suffer. Not with that neck. Died immediately.’

  Perhaps he was trying to spare my feelings and I didn’t contradict him by saying that he had still been alive when the lady who found him gave the alarm.

  One of the lads had sent for Vince and he was already at the stables by the time our sad procession with Bobby’s body got there.

  My presence wasn’t needed and in the cottage Mabel was sitting by the window. She had made a pot of tea and asked anxiously, ‘Is he all right?’

  I shook my head. There was no need for any further explanation. She sighed deeply. ‘You were too late to save him. What a pity. Such a young man too.’

  I needed that tea and I said: ‘Tell me again what happened?’

  She repeated word for word how she had almost run over him, and got down to see if he had been injured.

  ‘The horse had thrown him, his neck was broken.’

  She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘How awful!’

  ‘They said they thought he had died instantly. But he was still alive when you found him. Can you remember what he was trying to tell you?’

  She looked at me blankly. ‘Just mumbled some words.’ And shaking her head, ‘I was upset not knowing how to help him, what to do.’ She paused, her hand trembling as she put down the cup. ‘You know I have problems understanding what people here are saying.’ Again she paused and then in a whisper she went on, ‘I think it was that someone had attacked him.’

  I felt a sudden chill. If that was so and Mabel had heard correctly, then this was a second murder. While Lily’s body lay in a temporary grave awaiting further information regarding her parents, her killer had struck again. There was little doubt in my mind now after my visit to the stables and Jock’s information that Bobby had come to see someone urgently, that he had returned in the hope of extracting more money to keep his mouth shut and whoever he was blackmailing had killed him.

  Vince called in on his way back from telling Bobby’s mother. As always these necessary interviews upset him considerably. He had never got used to breaking tragic news. ‘Fortunately, her older son and wife were having supper with her at the time. But she was in a terrible state and I got the impression when they tried to comfort her that Bobby, although adopted, mattered most. I got the impression that he and not her real son was the apple of her eye.’ He paused. ‘It always amazes me how much normally well-concealed family feelings can be revealed by a sudden tragedy in the blink of an eye.’

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘Oh, the usual information to the fiscal, that sort of thing. But in the case of accidents on the estate, it’s just a matter of course.’

  ‘Is it now?’ I asked. ‘Are you sure this was an accident?’

  He looked at me and groaned. ‘Oh, there you are, off again, Rose. If every fatality in a great mass of servants and estate workers and tenants was to be regarded as murder, we’d need a resident police force.’

  ‘Such as Inspector Gray,’ I said slowly.

  He ignored that. ‘The lad’s death was the kind that is not unknown, and certainly without any suspicious circumstances. His horse threw him, broke his neck.’

  ‘Mabel said he was still alive when she found him, muttered something about an attacker.’

  Vince looked at me. ‘Is that so? I would have said that death was instantaneous.’

  ‘He had been fired,’ I said patiently and I repeated what Jock had said. ‘He was here to see someone urgently. And that sounds to me like suspicious circumstances, namely to blackmail whoever sent him packing into parting with more money to keep his mouth shut.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Rose. We’ve been over all this ground before.’

  ‘No, we haven’t, Vince. It must have been someone on the estate and that was why he borrowed the horse for half an hour.’

  Meg and Rowena came downstairs. They had been playing in Meg’s room and Vince said, ‘You still here, Rowena? You should have been back ages ago.’

  An apologetic shrug from Rowena. ‘We were having a fine game, Dr Laurie.’

  Vince said: ‘Never mind that. It’s late and your mother worries about you, so come along with me.’

  And as they left I could not help thinking this was the perfect excuse for cutting short our conversation.

  Meg and I took Thane for our usual evening stroll. We did a circuitous path as I wanted to avoid the wood where half a mile away Bobby had died.

  Meg was asking if Rowena could come and stay overnight and I said yes, if her mother would allow her.

  She sighed. ‘Her mother isn’t like you, Mam. She makes such a fuss about everything. Anyone would think Rowena was made of glass, or just stupid!’

  Back at the cottage, I hoped to talk to Mabel but she had retired to her room with her book. My questions would have to wait until tomorrow. I saw Meg off to bed and came downstairs, thinking of poor Mrs Biggs and of Rowena’s mother. The devotion parents can bestow like shackles on children who yearn to be free.

  I did not sleep well that night. The window had no shutters, and although the curtains were pretty they were no match for the moonlight which streamed in like a forbidden searcher, lighting every corner and keeping me wide awake, my thoughts going round and round, back and forth, over and over the day’s events.

  At breakfast next morning, Mabel seemed to have recovered from the shock of her discovery. In fact when I mentioned Bobby Biggs she blinked as if she had never heard of him.

  ‘It just occurred to me last night, Mabel, after you had gone to bed, can you remember if you met anyone when you were out in the pony cart before you, er—found the young man.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Well, I did see someone, one of the ghillies, I suppose, about ten minutes earlier. But I thought nothing of that, they are always around the wood. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I just wondered, that’s all, if he might have some information.’

  ‘What kind of information, Rose?’

  ‘Oh, just if he saw the horse bolting. That sort of thing,’ I lied.

  Mabel nodded and I asked: ‘What did this man look like?’

  She frowned. ‘I didn’t see him up close. But he was youngish, tall with dark hair.’

  She didn’t need to say any more, or I to ask any more questions. That cold chill went through me again.

  The description matched perfectly: Mr Saemus Brown or whatever was his real name.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  If I wasn’t satisfied that Bobby’s death was an accident, neither was Inspector Gray. He was back again asking questions and suddenly I was a suspect.

  ‘At the stables they said that just after Biggs left with the borrowed horse you came looking for him. Can you tell me why, Mrs Macmerry?’

  ‘I thought he might have information about Lily.’

  At her mention, Gray winced. ‘Is that so?’ And before waiting for my answer, he said. ‘The lads thought it was odd that you were so interested in Biggs who had a way with women.’

  ‘What you are hinting, Inspector, is outrageous and ridiculous!’

  He shook his head and said: ‘It has been known, especially women who look younger than their age.’

  That was either flattery, wh
ich I did not expect from him, or more likely a veiled insult. I said: ‘Very well, I’ll tell you what it was all about.’ And I went into the whole story, Bobby threatened, given ten quid to leave.

  Gray listened, his face impassive, giving nothing away.

  ‘So when you saw him, you presumed he was here for a bit of blackmail.’

  ‘That is correct. And I think he met up with his intended victim who killed him.’

  Gray sighed deeply. ‘Mrs Macmerry, the horse threw him. That was how he died. An unfortunate accident that can happen to the most experienced of riders.’

  ‘But there are ways and means of making a horse throw his rider.’

  Gray tapped his fingers on the table, a dismissive smile. ‘Don’t you think your ideas are a little fanciful, Mrs Macmerry? This is all circumstantial evidence that would never stand up in court.’ He paused. ‘There is another matter. Can you account for the bicycle tyre marks where the body was found?’

  ‘Of course I can. When Miss Penby Worth rushed back to the cottage, she was in a state of shock. She guessed that he might be badly injured but he was still alive and had mumbled something, she thought, about an attacker. I took my bicycle and went immediately.’

  A thin smile. ‘That could be concluded by a jury as being before as well as after the accident.’

  I gasped in amazement. ‘Are you accusing me of … of—’

  ‘Of murder? No, Mrs Macmerry, but you must admit that knowing your unfortunate propensity to investigate not only imaginary crimes but ones that are none of your business …’ Pausing, he gave me a hard look and continued: ‘The interest you displayed in him might suggest reasons for a crime passionnel. A personable young lad, who had rejected your advances.’

  ‘Stop! Stop right there, Inspector,’ I interrupted. ‘Stop talking nonsense. Have you forgotten that I am a happily married woman, the wife of Inspector Macmerry?’

  He shook his head solemnly. ‘Indeed no. But does that make a difference?’ At that he stood up, leaving me speechless with fury. ‘Now I’ll bid you good day.’

  I was still thinking of a reply, reeling at his accusations and wanting to throw something at him as he made a dignified exit.

  That might have been the end of it, except that on the very next day Mabel was attacked.

  After breakfast I learnt later she had gone to the stables for the pony cart, to find that there was a problem with one of the wheels and that she would not get it that day. Disappointed, as it was a fine day, she decided to make do with a walk.

  Meanwhile I was washing the breakfast dishes with Meg, a willing helper, drying them. Rowena would be arriving later so we prepared to give Thane his morning exercise together.

  Suddenly the door opened and Mabel rushed in. Muddied, dishevelled, her face white, she was sobbing, terrified and quite inarticulate.

  I made her sit down, tried to calm her.

  ‘What happened, Mabel? Did you fall, did you have an accident?’

  She gulped. ‘No accident, Rose. I was attacked. A man tried to kill me. In the wood.’

  I sat down opposite, she was still hysterical. Meg gave her a glass of water, she gulped it down.

  ‘Have you something stronger?’

  Vince’s excellent brandy which Olivia had left with us was produced. She made good use of that and it seemed to work. With a sigh, clenching her hands together, her eyes still wide with terror – a frightened horse came to mind – she unreeled the terrifying story. Between sobs, and sips of brandy, I got the gist of it.

  Unable to have her pony cart, for her daily excursions for her health, for fresh air and exercise, the latter which I might have questioned as there was little exercise in sitting in a cart for hours, she was making do with a brisk walk following the path she usually took through the wood.

  She wasn’t concerned that it took her very near the place where Bobby had his fatal accident, but it was just yards from the scene set for a second fatal encounter. This time her own.

  Meg was holding my hand. I told her to go to Uncle Vince. He would alert Inspector Gray if he was still somewhere in the confines of the castle.

  Mabel was saying: ‘I took a path through the trees alongside the river. Thought I heard something. Voices and rustling. Like footsteps. Decided it was just an animal.’ She gulped, looking bewildered, remembering. ‘Then – then he leapt out at me, threw a sack, a disgusting smelly sack, Rose, put it over my head and tried to push me down the bank to the river.’ Wringing her hands she went on: ‘I was terrified but I knew I was fighting for my life and thank God I am strong. I struggled, kicked out and the next moment I was on the ground. He had gone. Those voices I had heard were part of the shooting party with their dogs.

  ‘They got me to my feet, asked what had happened. There was no sign of my attacker and I didn’t want to make a fuss. So I said I had slipped and rolled down the bank, and they said I was lucky, another few feet and I would have been in the river.’

  She clutched my hand, ‘Oh Rose, if those people hadn’t been near, they saved my life.’

  I asked the obvious question. Could she describe her attacker?

  ‘He felt like a tall man, but I never saw his face. He grabbed me from behind.’

  I realised this was something else for Inspector Gray. But it didn’t make sense. Why should anyone attack Mabel? Again that missing motive. She had nothing to do with Bobby, although there was a link with Lily.

  It was beginning to sound as if we had a madman at large, an unseen maniac now attacking a defenceless woman. Who next? I wondered.

  The sound of a motor outside. Meg must have run all the way. Inspector Gray emerged with Vince, who had advised Meg to stay with Rowena.

  Satisfied that Mabel had suffered no injuries, Vince departed and Gray took a seat at the table opposite a forlorn-looking Mabel who had not yet attended to her muddied skirt and boots. She would have to do without a personal maid this time.

  ‘Am I to understand that you have been attacked, Miss Penby Worth?’

  ‘Indeed, yes. Just an hour ago.’

  And out again, the same story, word for word as she had told me.

  Gray listened patiently, an occasional nod, or that habit of tapping his fingers on the table. At the end, he asked for the description of her attacker. Again she had no notion, guessed only that he was a tall man, taller than her and very strong.

  A short silence as Gray made some notes and I said from my place by the window: ‘As this happened the very next day after Bobby Biggs’ accident, do you not think the two incidents might be related?’

  Gray swung round to face me. ‘In what way, Mrs Macmerry?’

  ‘I’ve just realised … perhaps it was the same man Miss Penby Worth noticed at the time just before she found the body.’

  Gray turned swiftly to her. ‘So there was someone else on the scene when the accident happened. Can you describe him?’

  As she spoke I closed my eyes. I had my own picture of that tall youngish man with dark hair.

  ‘If he had attacked the stable lad, Inspector, then perhaps he believed I had seen him, and as it was well known that I went out in the pony cart every morning, it is possible that he was lying in wait for me.’

  I looked at her. We had both reached the same conclusion.

  Gray thanked her and made another note. There was a certain finality in his action and Mabel asked: ‘May I ask what you intend doing about this, Inspector?’

  ‘This is a serious case of assault but we have no reason to believe there is any connection with the stable boy’s fatal accident yesterday. The fact that you were attacked very near the same spot could well be a coincidence. We will certainly look into it.’

  I never had any faith in coincidences. I distrusted them implicitly. Later that day Mabel was eager to unroll the full story to Vince once again. Vince was relieved that, although uninjured, she had suffered no after-effects so far, but appalled by what might have been the result. A third death.

  The story o
f Mabel’s attack was verified. One man had been with the shooting party who had found her in hysterics by the river, the sack that had covered her head lying alongside.

  ‘It will certainly help Gray in his investigation,’ Vince said.

  ‘Who was the man?’ I asked.

  Vince frowned, thought for a moment. ‘Oh, Brown, I think.’

  Again that chill went over me. Brown, or whatever his name was, also fitted the description of the man Mabel had seen on the scene of Bobby’s accident – or murder. He also fitted the vague description of the man who had attacked her. And it was no problem for him to apparently be the first on the scene to have found her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  An independent investigation whatever its consequences was now seriously overdue. I was running out of time. Soon it would be too late, the end of the holiday looming in sight, only days away. Walking with Thane that morning I was certain that he would be glad to be home again and welcome the freedom of roaming about Arthur’s Seat. If he could have talked, I was sure he would be sharing my sympathy for an outdoor animal confined for a month to the area around the cottage and woods with scant chance of the exercise he was used to. Or often having to sit for hours on end alone or with Mabel when the girls and I went to the castle gardens and areas forbidden to him.

  Mabel still referred to him as That Dog and endlessly complained about him, although once she had mellowed enough to suggest he might like to run alongside the pony cart. Declining her offer with suitable excuses I wondered if this was because she feared another attack.

  At that she laughed. ‘You need not worry about my safety, Rose.’ She smiled. ‘I will be armed if there is a next time.’ And I remembered that according to her, she was a crack hand with a rifle.

  At least she seemed to have overcome her initial hostility to That Dog and conceded that some animals could have quite exceptional, almost human, intelligence. Perhaps this was after Meg had reported our encounter with the King. In Mabel’s eyes, if royalty cast an approving glance on him that marked him down as somehow rather special.