Angus gave the Vauxhall a tune up before he left Edinburgh and the engine purred along the highway. It was a cold, partly sunny day, and the drive to Taye went smoothly. He planned to wrap this case up one way or the other in the next few days. He'd already made an appointment with Chief Inspector Wallace and relayed much of the information he had accumulated to him, via post-holiday phone conversations and emails.
Relieved to reach his destination, he pushed the door to the Blue Bell open and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit pub. He took a deep breath and strolled into the lobby. It almost felt like home. Seeing Donald Merriwether behind the counter immediately lifted some of the burden he carried. Both men laughed when they saw each other. They could not help themselves. Duncan laughed at the older gentleman's welcoming smile and the relief he felt upon seeing him. Donald chuckled at the transformation he witnessed on Duncan's face, a change from near dread to happiness.
"So, the lad has returned as he promised," Donald said, reaching to shake the younger man's hand. "It's been a wee dull around here without you," he added.
"Really? I heard Abigail Neward came around one or twice, and I know excitement follows her wherever she goes," Duncan retorted.
"Psshaw!" Donald exclaimed, waving his hand to dismiss the idea. "Room nine is all ready for ye. Just the way ye like it," Donald added, an ornery smile creeping across his face. "Do ye want to have dinner together tonight? I'll be here all evening."
"Brilliant! Would seven p.m. work for you?"
"Perfect. Do you need any help with yer bags?"
"No," he said, lifting the bag, "this is all I brought. Give me the key and I'll go up and settle in. I plan to get some work done before seven."
He found room nine just as before. Donald had seen to it that a blaze burned in the fireplace and that the accommodations were ready, in every way, for a cherished guest. He called Caroline to let her know he had arrived. They arranged to meet for dinner the next day and made the usual small talk before signing off. It was strange to be in such close proximity without seeing each other, but Duncan had work to do before tomorrow. His personal affairs would have to wait.
He sat at the table and turned on his laptop, as he had done a dozen or more times in this place. He pulled his local history book out and placed it on the night stand for late night recreational reading. Then, Duncan returned to the table and tried to write the points he would need to cover with the inspector tomorrow.
He had spent his recent time in Edinburgh fine tuning his theory of what may have happened to Stuart Menzies. The private investigator he sometimes used revealed that Stuart had some trouble with the law himself, in his younger days. All charges were dropped, but a girlfriend from that time had accused him of hitting her.
The P.I. also provided two interesting tidbits regarding Caroline. She had qualified for Mensa while in high school, but never joined the group. That meant she had an intelligence level, at a minimum, in the top two percentile of people everywhere. In addition, the X-ray taken of Caroline's arm showed a fracture consistent with an injury sustained from a grab and twist motion, not a fall. It was likely that Stuart had broken his wife's arm, since he had a history of hurting women.
Duncan had also compared photos of Castle Taye taken before Stuart's death with those taken at the scene. He wanted to be one hundred percent certain that the merlon missing from the battlement could not be the one discovered on Stuart. Its measurements were smaller than others on the castle, but he had to prove it did not fall from the building. Newspaper photos he obtained from the internet proved that all merlons had been identical. Whatever rested atop Stuart did not come from the castle. So, the original tooth was gone, as was the fake.
The chief inspector had tried before Christmas to locate the stone that supposedly killed Stuart. Its fate remained hazy. Caroline stated it had been removed from the property so as not to upset her. She did not know who performed that difficult task. Constable Ainsley, Inspector Smythe, and Donald Merriwether all denied moving the stone, as did Peter Menzies and Mr. Charmicle, the neighbor. Duncan did not suspect Donald or Chief Inspector John Wallace of any involvement in the death. They had nothing to gain, and Wallace was new to the area at that time.
He dreaded meeting the chief inspector the next day. Duncan forced himself to make a list of points to discuss. He struggled knowing that his position in this small community, how the locals felt about him, would alter considerably after tomorrow. Duncan had grown fond of Taye, its people and traditions. Still, he was an outsider compared to everyone involved in this case.
The wall phone rang, startling Duncan from his musings. He checked his watch, seven fifteen. Ooops! He had lost track of time, wrestling with his thoughts. He ran to the phone.
"I'll be right down," he said.
"Fine. I'm getting hungry, Lad," Donald stated.
"I'm on my way!"
Duncan hung up and grabbed his room key. His stomach rumbled as he locked room nine and hurried to the lobby.
"How does a salmon sound?" Donald asked, moving from behind the desk. "The chef has prepared a simple poached salmon tonight, healthy for those of us needing to watch our waistlines."
Donald rubbed his stomach and rolled his eyes towards Heaven, grinning.
"I'm getting a jump on the new year. Skye wants me to take better care of myself and I've promised her I will."
"Glad to hear that. We should all make more of an effort towards that end. I hope to get back to running on a regular basis soon," Duncan said as they strolled into the pub.
They each ordered a pint and chose a table near the fire. He noticed that Donald's limp had improved since he last saw him. They sat silently, enjoying the ale, Duncan content to absorb the Blue Bell's atmosphere and Donald happy to have a male companion.
After the waiter took their order, Duncan said, "I see Christmas didn't kill you. Your leg is improved since I left."
"Aye, I am better. My arthritis acts up at certain temperatures. It seems to improve when it gets colder. Of course, it improves when it gets warmer too, like in spring and summer. Doesn't bother me at all then. But, we did have a big crowd for Christmas and Christmas Eve. The staff took on most of the work. I just greeted people and made sure everyone stayed happy," Donald said, satisfaction spreading across his face as he remembered the Blue Bell's recent success.
"Speaking of staff, I haven't seen Skye," Duncan remarked, glancing around the pub, "where is she?"
"She'll be here at breakfast tomorrow. She's out at the castle with yer friend, seeing everything remains calm." Donald continued, "I heard ye had a visitor in Edinburgh over Christmas."
Duncan breathed a deep sigh and fought to suppress a smile that tried to appear every time Caroline was mentioned.
"Yes, Caroline came to Edinburgh for the holidays," Duncan admitted, battling that smile as the corners of his mouth tried to curl up. "She met my family. I put her up at the Balmoral, and we enjoyed the sights."
"How did that come off?" Donald asked, an eyebrow raised.
Maybe he had already heard about Duncan's family from Caroline. Duncan relayed most of what happened during Christmas in Edinburgh. Donald was near hysteria by the time they'd finished their salmon. His description of choking on the melon and ginger sent the innkeeper into uncontrollable fits of laughter which ended with a coughing spell.
Finally, Donald stammered, "That brother of yers is something of a delinquent, isn't he?"
"He's something alright," he answered, laughing along with Donald.
He reached his room around ten p.m. and fumbled getting the key in the lock. He drank one pint too many at the bar after dinner. Eventually, he got the door open and flipped on the light switch. His eyes went to the bed where he hoped to be soon, sleeping. At first, nothing seemed amiss, but when a car's headlights crossing the bridge down river shone through one of the windows, Duncan saw a message on the glass. As he crossed the room to get a closer look, he tripped on his suitcase. Glancing around, Dun
can then noticed that his bag had been moved and papers scattered on the floor. Here we go again, he thought as he moved towards the window.
Upon closer examination, Duncan saw that condensation had formed on the glass. Leave Now had been crudely traced there, parting the miniscule drops of water, and forming a visible, threatening message. He'd solved the mystery of Bluie.
Duncan knew the average woman of Bluie's time would not know how to write, let alone in modern English. Someone, not something, had been entering his room and disturbing his belongings. Duncan was relieved he had not gotten around to writing his list for tomorrow's meeting before dinner. He wouldn't want the intruder to see that. He leaned down and grabbed his papers from the floor, moved his suitcase back where it belonged, and checked the shower and toilette alcoves to be sure he was alone. He made certain the door was locked, changed into his sweats and climbed in bed.
The discovery that an intruder had been in his room, sometimes when he slept, only slightly bothered Duncan. Maybe it was that extra pint, calming his nerves. Either way, the thought that the culprit must have a key dawned upon him. Duncan got up and wedged a chair under the room's door knob. Then he returned to bed, picking up his local history. Reading would help his mind relax so he could get some sleep. Flipping through the book to locate where he had left off, Duncan made another discovery. Someone had ripped several pages from the tome.
Chapter 17 - A Hermit's Revenge
Duncan pulled into a parking spot in front of Cat's Books. He had given himself an extra half hour before his meeting with Chief Inspector Wallace to locate another copy of A Local History of Clan MacNab. He wanted to know what the missing pages of his volume contained. He pushed the glass paneled door open and just like before, the bell on a spring went to ringing. Abigail leaned from behind a shelf, her head appearing in the store's center aisle.
"Well, hallo there, Duncan! How are ye this morning?" she chirped, happy to see her dance partner.
"Hallo, Abigail. I'm well, and you?" he asked, clutching his damaged paperback.
"Never better. Are ye back at the Blue Bell?" she asked.
"Yes, I am. In fact, I had dinner with Donald last night and breakfast with Skye this morning," he volunteered, knowing Abigail would appreciate any word she could get about the innkeeper. He continued, "I was happy to see Donald's arthritis has improved and that the inn did a healthy business over Christmas. Did you have a nice holiday?"
"Oh, aye," Abigail answered after a pause.
He assumed her mind was stuck in Donald mode.
"Was there something I can help ye with?" she asked.
"As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could do me a favor. You see, I bought this book in Killin a while back," Duncan held the book up and continued, "and just noticed some missing pages, not many, only three, but I'm awfully curious to know what's been left out. Is there any way I could glance at a copy here, assuming you have one?"
Abigail stared at the book.
"I've got a hard copy and I'd be glad to let ye see it. Take a seat in the back and I'll bring it to ye."
"Oh, thank you, Abigail. It's most generous of you," he said, walking to the back counter.
He took a seat and played with Abigail's felines until she appeared behind the counter. Duncan had not heard her coming. It seemed Abigail had much in common with her pets!
"Here it is," she announced, presenting him with the book. She added, "I'm going to make a cup of tea. Would ye like one?"
Duncan checked his wristwatch.
"I'd love one, but I have an appointment with the chief inspector in 20 minutes," he said.
"Not a problem. I've an electric kettle in back. I'll be out in a shake with a cup fer each of us."
Abigail disappeared into a back room, while Duncan flipped to the missing pages. He noticed the fine cover on Abigail's hardback version. This volume was much older than his paperback. The page numbers did not match exactly. His later edition must have included more information. Frustrated and worried about the time, Duncan scanned the pages forward and backward.
Abigail materialized with cups, saucers, and biscuits. She handed Duncan his cup of tea .
"What's wrong? Ye look upset, harried."
Duncan thought Abigail might also have a bit of detective in her, like her nephew, Jimmy Smythe.
"The pages don't correlate between the books," he sighed, pointing towards his version and then Abigail's.
"Of course not. Yer paperback there is a condensed version. The chapters cover the same material, so track the pages down by the chapter they are in," she instructed.
"You certainly know your books Abigail. How much information do you store up there?" he asked, tapping his own temple.
"All of it!" Abigail said and laughed.
Duncan located the chapter in his tome where the pages had been torn away.
"Lucky number thirteen, it's chapter thirteen," he explained, dropping his book and picking up Abigail's hardback.
He turned to the correct chapter and starting scanning the pages, pausing now and then to check his watch. He found what he was looking for on page 97, under a section entitled The Hermit of Tyne.
"Did every hamlet have its own hermit?" Duncan whispered to himself.
"What did ye say?" Abigail asked, petting one of her cats.
Duncan had forgotten she still stood opposite him, across the counter.
"The missing pages explain about the Hermit of Tyne. I was just wondering if every village had a hermit in those days?"
He read further, not waiting for her response. The hermit, some kind of mystic, became angry with a local rascal who refused to allow him to remain in a cave on his lands. Bad choice for the rascal who was later found, crushed beneath a merlon from his own castle. He read the last paragraph again…. crushed beneath a merlon. Local rumor had it that the hermit, or mystic, pried the merlon from the landowner's castle with his walking stick, dropping it onto the man and killing him. The perpetrator was never seen again. Duncan mused to himself, Stuart's was not the first death by merlon.
"Abigail, could you do me a huge favor?" he asked, closing the book.
She nodded.
"Keep this behind the counter for a while. Don't sell it. I may need those missing pages later. If anyone else comes in asking for it, tell them it's sold. I'll buy it from you if you lose a sale on my account."
Abigail agreed and Duncan dashed from the shop, almost late for his meeting. He drove around the green, the Vauxhall travelling just under the accepted speed limit, and parked in front of the police station. Taking the steps two at a time he gripped a folder filled with papers and his paperback in one hand. He jerked the door to headquarters open with his free hand, a blast of heat hitting his face. Why did they keep this place so warm? Duncan glanced around, surprised to find the station empty.
He took a step further into the room and glimpsed Wallace in his private office, behind a closed door. Duncan waved and caught the other man's attention.
"Come in," Wallace said, opening wide the door to his office.
Duncan followed the chief inspector and sat down in a chair in front of his desk.
As Wallace closed the door behind Duncan and took his own seat, Duncan asked, "Why do you keep it so blasted hot in here?"
"For interrogation purposes. If the person we're questioning is uncomfortable, they'll talk sooner. Saves us time," Wallace admitted.
For a second, Duncan wondered if he was to be interrogated.
Then, the chief inspector continued, "Let me just start by saying that I was new here when Stuart died. I made some mistakes, especially assuming my staff was experienced enough to handle a situation like this. I quietly reopened the case and informed my superiors before Christmas. The information you forwarded to me made it clear this was no freak accident. But, I'm afraid I'm still in the dark regarding what really happened." Wallace paused and stared intently at Duncan, then added, "Do you know what went on out there?"
"Some of it, and I
have a theory for the rest. You may not like everything I have to say," Duncan replied.
"Well, please, enlighten me."
"Let's start with Stuart. He studied history and chemistry at university. We found out he had a record of violence against women and most likely broke his wife's arm some time before his death."
Duncan took a breath and noticed surprise reflected on Wallace's face.
He continued, "Not a police record, but accusations from a prior girlfriend. He also had a large insurance policy on Caroline Menzies for no obvious reason. His corpse showed signs that he'd been meddling with acid shortly before his death. The effects of acid were also apparent on the base of the missing merlon at Castle Taye. I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility to assume Stuart was planning to murder his wife and collect the insurance proceeds to save his estate."
"That's a little far fetched don't you… " Wallace started before Duncan interrupted.
"Hear me out, please," Duncan said, his voice calm.
He had been down this road before with the police and it was never easy. The chief inspector made an impatient gesture with his hands, encouraging Duncan to continue.
"I have a history book here," Duncan said, raising the book. "I've been reading it at night while staying at the Blue Bell. Last night, someone came in my room and tore several pages out. Those pages contained a story of a hermit killing a man by prying a merlon off a castle and dropping it on him. As a student of history, surely Stuart was familiar with this local tale. By the way, the person who took the pages has rummaged through my room on several occasions. Last night, they left me a threatening message."
Mystery: The Merlon Murders II: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 2) Page 16
