Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen: A Grasshopper Lawns whodunit

by EJ Lamprey

  Her niece was a police sergeant based in Onderness, who had liaised with the amateur sleuths more than once in the past to their mutual benefit, and William suddenly looked a bit more cheerful.

  ‘Oh aye. I actually noticed the news item about her being missing. The paper said she was married, so it may be more than a bit of scandal. Wonder if we could use it to help promote the week?’

  Donald looked disapproving. ‘Not if she’s married. The most that will be said, at a guess, is that she’s been found safe and well.’

  Whatever William might have said was interrupted by the dogs barking a challenge and rushing out of the courtyard. When Edge opened the kitchen door they all heard the faint clangour of an approaching siren and within minutes two Search and Rescue all-terrain vehicles were crunching up the drive.

  ***

  The afternoon was drawing to a close when they returned to Grasshopper Lawns, the complex where they all lived. Rather than go to one of their garden apartments, or William’s bungalow, they put the dogs into the house kennels and made for the pub in the main house. It had become automatic to head on through to the conservatory which was filled with late sunshine and, today, unusually, people. Boules had become a great favourite at the Lawns since the Trust had added boules facilities at the top of the big property, and a Lawns team of six players had challenged the nearest town, Onderness, to a tournament.

  Edge, the only one of the four friends who played regularly, had regretfully given up a place in the team in favour of the outing to William’s and went across to ask how the afternoon had gone. Sylvia, tiny, indomitable and fiery, announced gleefully that the home team had demolished the visitors. They were taking her gloating in good part, vowing retribution, and calling for another round of drinks.

  Edge laughed and left the noisy party to it, crossing to Vivian and Donald who had chosen the furthest possible table. William was pushing through the pub door into the conservatory with their order.

  ‘I still think this Granger incident is the best way of promoting the place we could have asked for.’ William carefully placed the four glasses on the table and shared them out, putting a small whisky in front of Edge. He looked slightly guilty when they glared at him. ‘I’m not suggesting tipping off the media! Just using it if there is a story.’

  ‘Kirsty promised to phone me as soon as she had details.’ Edge sipped obediently at the whisky and made a face. ‘What is this, cat’s pee? I’m no connoisseur, but this is disgusting.’

  ‘Doctor’s orders, you’re still a bit pale from shock. Nothing like dropping through a floor to jar the system, but you have no idea what Jamie wanted to sting me for a dram of his single malt. This is the stuff they keep for visitors. Not surprising we don’t usually get many.’ He sat heavily opposite her and picked up his wine. ‘Get some roses back in your cheeks, then you can switch to wine. I’ll help Donald carry you back to your apartment.’

  She snorted, but took another sip. ‘Doctor’s orders, what’s your doctorate in again? Astronomy? This is definitely alien to Scotland. But thank you, I think.’

  ‘My doctorate is in History, as you well know, and I would be surprised if that stuff has any Scottish history at all. He keeps it for anyone who asks for a mixer, on the basis that anything good would be utterly wasted on them. When did Kirsty say she’d phone? All I’m saying is that if this is going to hit the news tomorrow, we want to tie it into any promoting as fast as possible after that.’

  Kirsty

  Sergeant Kirsty Cameron, who was in her mid-twenties, ambitious, good at her job, and played down her attractiveness while on duty by scraping her vivid red hair back ruthlessly, promised her aunt she would get whatever information she could. She ended the call hastily to pick up the ringing phone on her desk. There was a good chance Detective Inspector Iain McLuskie, who had headed up the Onderness police station before the shakeup of the police system in Scotland had promoted him to headquarters, and who still lived in the small and attractive town, would pop in on the way home. She’d had an excellent relationship with the DI since he was first transferred down from the north, but despite the occasional snide comments of the station’s other sergeant, she knew Iain, twenty years her senior and happily married, considered her only as a promising protégée. They had worked well together in the past, and he’d managed to get her onto some good cases since his transfer. If he’d heard that the Lawns lot had once again managed to get involved in anything which interested the police, he’d definitely be coming by.

  He did: she half-lifted her hand in greeting as he walked in before returning her concentration to the call she was on. He helped himself to tea and jerked his head towards one of the sound-proofed interview rooms, eyebrows raised. She nodded and followed as soon as she was free, coffee in hand.

  ‘How much do you ken?’ He put down the report he had been frowning over and she shrugged as she sat opposite.

  ‘Assume nothing. Edge certainly didn’t know much.’

  ‘Neither do we. It’s a bit frustrating. I found out as much as I could, of course, since our Lawns friends tend to find themselves in interesting situations. Starting with the mysterious Alec – when the PC rang him he was thoroughly cold and spiteful. At a guess he kept that phone purely for Missus Granger, because he certainly thought he was talking to her and thanked her for finally bothering to get in touch. Once he realized it was a poliswoman he was talking to he changed completely, said he was scunnered to hear Missus Granger had been trapped. She asked his full name and address and the phone went dead. I’d say it’s sitting in the bottom of a bin right now. So we ken it wasn’t deliberate on his side.’

  ‘We know she’s married, maybe he is too, and they were using the house as a love nest?’

  Iain barked with laughter. ‘I dinnae think so! I’d quite like to see the place, ken, the descriptions would make your hair stand on end, but aye, we’d quite like to ken why they were there. She’s not saying anything. Not his surname, not why they were there. She was barely speaking before her husband arrived and then she shut up altogether. PC Roberts was trying to get a statement from her, and you ken her, she can usually coax a story out of a mute. Not this time. Missus Granger wouldnae speak to her, wouldnae speak to her husband. She greeted every time she looked at him and he got difficult and said he was taking her home and we were to stop upsetting her. It isn’t as if we could charge her with anything unless William thinks anything was stolen or damaged. Of course, there’s always the chance she could sue, always a risk when someone has an accident on your property, whether they’re there illegally or not. You ken how it is, when we’re called in for any reason we need to make a record. Nowt. Did Edge get any more than we did?’

  ‘She rang on the way back to the Lawns, but says Mrs Granger went quiet with them too, once she knew her Alec had left her there, not that she could talk much anyway. She must have screamed herself voiceless. Edge wanted to know anything I was free to pass on, I think she was nearly as shaken as the victim. Four days stuck in a trap boggles the mind.’

  Iain finished his tea and put the cup down. ‘The doc’s initial report commented that it probably didnae feel so long a time to her. Some people do seal themselves up in sensory deprivation tanks by choice. Apparently you lose all sense of time. He says she’s in remarkably good shape, although still very disoriented. Mebbe when she’s brooded about her Alec leaving her like that, and gets vindictive, she’ll cough up more. ’

  ‘I did get one thing for you. A possible reason they were there.’ Kirsty leaned forward. ‘I was hoping you would come by so I could ask you if it’s worth adding to the file. William’s uncle told him there’s treasure hidden in the house. William doesnae set much store by that, but if the rumour is out there, the mysterious Alec could be looking for it. If so, the number of people who could know is definately limited. The old man lived alone for years, and the only people he saw were carers and the land agent. He could have told any of them, but the land agent could go in openly any t
ime he liked. He wouldn't need to sneak in at night.’

  Iain frowned in concentration. ‘That makes a lot more sense than middle-aged people behaving like teenagers in an empty house. Add a note to the file. We’ll follow up. William should organize a night watchman, though. Treasure seekers getting themselves killed could be inconvenient.’

  ‘Is it that dangerous?’ Kirsty raised her brows. ‘Edge said William’s talking of having some kind of a house party there.’

  Iain’s frown cleared and he grinned. ‘Oh aye? Once they had all the photies they needed, and sluiced the trap out, one of our technical guys had a quick look at the way it works. Turning that key in the door triggers the floor sliding away in four sections, and the victim drops through onto a coated metal slide. When Kenny climbed in to get a closer look, his weight triggered water skooshing out of a hidden jet. The slide tipped slightly and whoosh, off he went at high speed, ending up under the kitchen floor. There’s a light that came on and a hatch in the kitchen floor so he could get out, it isn’t a malicious trap, but the old man had what you’d call a very robust sense of humour. Never get building permission for that nowadays! Kenny was actually pretty impressed. Unfortunately for Missus Granger, there’s not a lot of clearance in the chute, and she’s a big lass. She fell in, slid far enough for the floor to click back into place, but was then stuck fast. Couldnae move down, and because the slide was wet, couldnae move up either.’

  Kirsty, who shared her aunt’s claustrophobia, shuddered. ‘And the Alec bawbag left her?’

  ‘That much she did tell PC Roberts, she said he didnae ken, he wasnae there. She opened the French door because the musty smell was making her lightheaded and the next thing she knew the room was shooting upwards, the trapdoor closed, and she was stuck. She heard him overhead looking for her, but she was still in shock, couldnae fill her lungs enough to scream. Then he left, she assumed to get help. She thought he must have been trapped himself when he didnae return. That’s as much as we got, before hubby arrived. Not what you would call an affectionate man: PC Roberts thought he was more relieved that she hadnae turned up dead and put him under suspicion.’

  ‘How much can I pass on to Edge?’ Kirsty asked and Iain shrugged.

  ‘They already ken the bits that could embarrass the Grangers. William should be warned there’s a possibility of a comeback, although it’s unlikely, and he really should get a watchman in there, as we dinnae ken the Alec eejit won’t go back. You ken we don’t usually talk freely to the public, but the Lawns lot are slightly different. I’ll trust your judgement.’

  ***

  Kirsty rang Edge when he left, catching her in the noisy conservatory, and passed on Iain’s warning.

  ‘Guess that scotches using the story for marketing.’ Edge stretched her eyes at William, who looked at her sharply across the table, then sighed. Kirsty wanted to know what she meant and Edge sketched in his hope of filling the house with writers to find every trap.

  ‘That almost sounds fun.’ Kirsty was intrigued. ‘If you’re short of people, Drew and I would definately be interested. What is it, about a two hour drive from here? We could commute from work and stay overnight, if that’s any good. Our techie was impressed by the slide thing, he told Iain it was pretty slick. It sounds quite the house.’

  The hubbub from the boules players cranked a few decibels higher, Sylvia’s shrill titter ringing out repeatedly, and Edge thanked her niece and rang off to bring the others up to date.

  ‘Excellent. Kirsty and Drew on the job would be perfect, even at the loss of a paying guest,’ William said with deep satisfaction. ‘Maybe that techie would be interested as well, eh? Pity about the publicity but aye, I can see that coming back to bite me if she thought I was profiting by her dilemma. I’ll phone Butler now, get him to put in a watchman, and at the same time I’ll ask if he has any idea who could have heard the treasure rumour. He can also look up the surname of that sticky-fingered carer who got fired because I know for a fact his name was Alec. Certainly someone searching for Uncle’s cache is likelier than her having a lover. I couldn’t see any attraction, myself.’

  ‘For goodness sake, William, she’d been stuck in a hydroslide for days, she was lucky to be alive!’ Vivian sounded genuinely annoyed. ‘I hope if that ever happens to me, you won’t decide I look too bedraggled and stinking to be of interest.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ he returned slightly coolly.

  ***

  ‘I’m worried about William and Vivian.’ Edge, sitting cross-legged on her bed in her small apartment, raised the subject as Donald lightly stroked skinfood into his cheeks, the part of his nightly ritual she found the most incongruous. Neither of her husbands had used any skin products at all other than for shaving and, grudgingly, in severely sunny conditions, sunscreen. To be with a man who paid as much attention to his skin as she did to hers had initially been slightly unnerving. Now she found their evening ritual cosy. Although they didn’t live together and had apartments two doors apart at the Lawns, they spent most nights together and had fallen into comfortable habits. She re-arranged her legs to turn her back automatically as he finished and reached for her brush to brush her thick shoulder-length hair through with firm strokes.

  ‘Ken. I wouldn't say I was worried, but relationships can't stay static, and he’s not an easy man, especially now. I was more surprised at her taking the huff.’

  Mortimer, always an opportunist, settled purring on her lap and she stroked him absently, her head bobbing slightly under the tug of the brush. ‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about their relationship lately. It’s this trip to South Africa at the end of the year, having to introduce him to everyone. She says it’s ridiculous to call him a boyfriend at this age, she wants something more conventional. He pointed out, perfectly logically, that they both like things the way they are, him in the bungalow and her in her apartment, and that her family would be horrified if she married him. She knows that, but she won’t let it go. That temper of hers doesn’t flare often, but when she builds up enough steam she can really let rip. Combined with him being such a grouch at the moment, they could both explode, and what on earth would we do if they do?’

  ‘Run for cover? That’s it, one hundred strokes. There’s nothing we can do. William’s difficult, and Vivian’s stubborn. They’re mature adults, they’ve both been single and therefore self-centred for years, and nobody gets close without some friction.’ He stood up to replace the brush and his cream on the narrow dressing table as Edge lifted Mortimer off her lap so she could get into bed. She shifted to make room for Donald as he joined her, reaching for her to pull her head onto his shoulder.

  ‘Even us?’ She resisted briefly to look into his face.

  ‘We are the exception that proves the rule. Both incredibly placid. No excitement at all, just a staid old couple falling comfortably into place together.’

  She giggled and ran her fingertips across his flat stomach, feeling his strong muscles tense. ‘Thank goodness for that. Excitement would be very disturbing.’

  His arm tightened around her shoulders. ‘Very. You’re a minx.’

  ‘Bite me. I do love you very much.’

  His stomach muscles quivered under her fingers as he laughed. ‘You can't make a comment like that without being prepared to prove it. Bite you where?’

  Alec

  ‘You seem bored, Alec. If you’d rather be talking to someone else, I don’t mind, I’m sure.’ Jeanette watched sardonically as he hastily straightened in his leather desk chair. They were talking on Skype, he in the study at Burns Hall, shelves of books to the ceiling behind him, and she in her boudoir, soft lighting chosen to flatter her and the frills and flounces of her furnishings.

  ‘Not bored. Just a little distracted. There’s no-one I would rather talk to than you.’

  She eyed him with purring satisfaction over the rim of her glass of wine. ‘The house search?’

  ‘The house search.’ He looked fretful. ‘The new owner is arranging a part
y of sorts there, a gathering of writers. I can’t see any way of getting into the house to finish searching before they arrive. I do wish you’d come up this weekend and help me.’

  ‘And be left in a drain?’ She was scornful. ‘You’re not a very nice man.’

  He forced an uneasy laugh. ‘That was a complete misunderstanding. I feel terrible about it. I thought Lorna had changed her mind and left.’

  ‘So you keep saying. Even though it was the middle of nowhere and you were both in your car.’

  He looked sullen. ‘We met outside the glen, I could hardly pick her up from her house. She’d hidden the car in case anyone saw it parked there. Yes, I could have checked but I assumed she’d gone as she didn’t like the place.’

  She shrugged and changed the subject. ‘You never did tell me what the treasure is.’

  ‘I don’t know!’ He ran a hand over his dark hair fretfully. ‘The old man clammed up every time I tried to get it out of him.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you being a carer.’ She lowered her heavy eyelids and tipped her head back to study him thoughtfully, her full lips curving as she saw his eyes fix on her throat and cleavage. ‘If you find it, will you vanish into the sunset? Will I ever hear from you again?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I adore you.’ He leaned forward again, radiating earnestness. ‘Adore you. It’s up for grabs, and if I can be the one to find it, well, every little helps. A few luxuries, here and there.’ He blinked as her comment belatedly registered. ‘What do you mean, carer? I care for you, you mean?’

  ‘I mean that as a writer, I’m an experienced researcher, Alec Burns, and I looked you up. You’re a male nurse and residential carer. Nothing about being laird of the manor. If I hadn’t visited Burns Hall I wouldn’t believe in you. Or are you looking after an old patient there, and pretending to own the place?’