The Darker Arts

by Oscar de Muriel

  ‘Nae,’ said Nine-Nails, taking hold of the little bundle. ‘There’s too much at stake. I don’t want a finicky bloody prosecutor questioning the results because ye fucked something up. I’ll talk to Reed right now. I’ll make him see the urgency.’

  ‘As you wish,’ I said, partly relieved.

  I was going to follow him, but McGray stopped me.

  ‘Nah, ye wait here, Percy. Just the sight o’ ye puts the laddie on edge.’

  Again, I agreed with relief.

  Nine-Nails came back not ten minutes later, looking insufferably smug.

  ‘Sorted. He’ll try to give us some results tomorrow morning, hopefully before the inquest.’

  I was not in the mood to hear him boast his success, so I promptly changed the subject and briefed him as to the contents of Holt’s loot.

  ‘We still have the chap in a cell,’ I concluded. ‘Do you want to question him now?’

  McGray rubbed his hands together. ‘Och, aye. He might be Katerina’s salvation.’

  9

  The questioning room was usually a depressing sight, with its bare brick walls, meagre and battered furniture, and the narrow window that barely provided any light. Today, the rain lashed the grimy glass, adding to the general gloom.

  When we walked in, we found Holt biting his nails and sweating profusely. Behind him sat a clerk, ready to record the man’s statement.

  McGray sat down, facing Holt. There was a third chair, but I preferred to stand behind Nine-Nails as I took notes. I have seldom permitted any of those nasty chairs touch my clothes.

  ‘Mr Holt!’ said McGray. Even though I could not see his face, I knew Nine-Nails was smiling. ‘Do I need to tell ye yer deep in shite?’

  ‘I can explain,’ Holt said once more.

  ‘Oi, ye better. From the state o’ the colonel’s bedroom and the stuff the dandy here found in yer bag, I’d say ye had yer eye on yer boss’s belongings : watches, clothes, a handsome Italian gunshot. Why did ye take them?’

  Holt pressed his hands on the table, attempting to control his trembles. ‘I was entitled to all those things. The colonel knew I loved them. He said many times I could have ’em if something ever happened to him.’

  Nine-Nails cackled. ‘Aye right, he did.’

  ‘I swear! He—’

  ‘Can you prove that?’ I intervened. ‘Did someone reliable ever hear him say so? Did he leave it in writing?’

  ‘Aye! Well … I think he did. He said he would write it in his will.’

  That could be easily checked, but I did not mention it right then. I simply gave him my most dubious look. I have learned that a stare can be more effective than hostile questions.

  ‘There are many things much more valuable in that house!’ Holt finally cried. ‘I only took what I was entitled to. I swear.’

  I nodded, still playing the doubtful act. ‘Let us assume you are telling the truth. Why did you take these items now? Why not wait until the will was effected? That would have saved you—’

  ‘I know how long those things can take,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m up to the neck in debt! I’ve a family to support! I have a wee daughter and no job now – if I can’t pay the tenement, she’ll have to go to the orphanage.’

  He buried his face in his hands, perhaps to conceal tears, and I felt a surge of sympathy. Even if it was all true – and again, a couple of brief enquiries would be enough to verify it – his actions remained very suspicious.

  ‘You had another set of keys to the house,’ I said. ‘Why did you not surrender them to the police?’

  Holt rubbed his grey beard. ‘I kept a spare set at home. I didn’t have it with me when the peelers first came. And I didn’t say a word ’cause I wanted to get my stuff.’ He looked pleadingly at McGray. ‘But I went straight to my master’s room! I’d never dare steal from his house, let alone from the room where he died!’

  ‘Ye sure? Ye sure ye took nothing from the séance parlour?’

  ‘Course not!’

  McGray cast him a stabbing stare and Holt whimpered from the bottom of his throat.

  ‘Nothing at all?’ McGray repeated.

  The whimper became a little louder, and I pictured Holt’s head like a hot-air balloon about to burst. In the end it did.

  ‘I … did – but … I didn’t!’

  Nine-Nails and I spoke over each other : ‘What the fuck ye prattling about?’ and ‘Will you care to explain?’

  Holt looked down. ‘Well, I …’

  McGray banged a hand on the table. ‘Oi! My eyes are up here.’

  Holt did look at him, though barely lifting his head.

  ‘I didn’t walk into the parlour, I swear. I didn’t dare! Not after—’

  ‘Then what?’

  The man moistened his lips. ‘I was going to my master’s room. I walked past the parlour door. It was half open. I … saw Miss Leonora’s chain, the one with the wee gold nugget, on the floor …’

  McGray and I nodded at each other, both recalling the piece.

  ‘So it was just lying there,’ said McGray, all suspicion.

  ‘Aye. The peelers must’ve dropped it when they took … the young miss away.’

  ‘Why did you take it?’ I asked. ‘You said you would not dare steal.’

  Holt blushed profusely, and for an instant I thought he was about to shed tears.

  ‘It …’ he started, and then covered his mouth with a fist, like one does to repress vomit. ‘It seemed easy.’

  McGray’s eyebrow rose slowly. ‘How did ye ken it was Miss Leonora’s?’

  The blush intensified. ‘She always wears it. Well – she always did.’ His voice then reduced to a whisper. ‘I thought … she’s not gonna miss it now.’

  McGray was going to enquire further, but I stepped forward.

  ‘I think we have heard enough about today. I am more interested in last Friday. And also the preceding days.’

  Holt cleared his throat. ‘If I can help youse—’

  ‘Why did they call the gypsy?’ I said promptly.

  ‘A family matter.’

  ‘Which was …?’

  Holt shook his head. ‘I don’t know. They never told me.’

  McGray chuckled. ‘Oi, please! Ye must have heard something.’

  ‘I don’t like to eavesdrop my—’

  ‘You must have heard something!’

  My quickness to raise my voice surprised me. Holt recoiled at my shout, then gulped.

  ‘They … they needed to find something.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  Holt’s eyes went from McGray’s to mine. ‘What did the gypsy tell youse?’

  McGray leaned forwards. ‘We’re asking ye.’

  ‘I … I – I don’t know. I—’

  ‘Looks like yer master was looking for something in that house. What was that?’

  ‘I told youse, I don’t know!’

  McGray clenched his fists, ready to beat the man to a pulp. I had to pat his shoulder like one does an enraged hound.

  ‘You were the colonel’s valet,’ I said. ‘For how long?’

  ‘Five, six years.’

  ‘Preparing his clothes, helping him dress, fetching his meals …?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘So you must have seen them searching. We saw the stripped floors and walls. That did not happen overnight. My guess is you even did some of that for them.’

  ‘No! My masters searched. I didn’t.’

  ‘And yet you have no idea what they were looking for.’

  ‘I told youse, it was a family matter! They didn’t share their secrets with the likes of me. I respected that.’

  I half smiled. ‘In my experience, Mr Holt, servants usually find things out. Even if they don’t mean to.’

  He chuckled. ‘Then you’ve only been served by nosy gossipmongers.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said with a sigh, ‘let’s talk about Mrs Grenville.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘We found terrible bruis
es on her. Did you ever hear about the colonel being … harsh on his wife?’

  Holt shrugged. ‘Aye. A few times, but all marriages have their highs ’n’ lows. She seemed happy most of the time.’ He looked sideways. ‘Although I can tell youse, the lady’s mother didn’t like them fighting.’

  ‘What did she think o’ the colonel?’ McGray asked. ‘Did she like him?’

  ‘Oh she didn’t. She always looked uptight when my master was around.’

  I recalled the woman’s name : Gertrude. Still alive. I made a note to question her.

  ‘Moving on to what happened that day,’ I said, ‘we also found grazes on your master’s hands. Did you see him fight?’

  ‘No, sir, but I wasn’t near him for most of the day.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I was the one who fetched most of the guests, including the gypsy.’

  ‘I see. Do you remember the times and the order in which you fetched them?’

  ‘Aye. Miss Leonora was the first one. I picked her up from Mr Willberg’s house, her uncle. It must have been midday.’

  ‘So early?’ I asked.

  ‘Aye. She needed to buy some stuff for her camera, so I took her to Princes Street first. From there I drove her to Morningside, and she began setting the parlour at once. I was helping her, but the colonel told me to go to Mrs Eliza’s house.’

  ‘Mrs Eliza?’ said McGray.

  ‘The family call her that, although she ought to be Mrs Shaw now that her grandma is dead. She’s the mother of Master Bertrand, first cousin of Mrs Grenville. He still shared a house with his younger brother and their mother. God, poor Mrs Eliza must be distraught!’

  I looked at my previous notes. ‘I assume the old Mr Shaw did not need fetching, since he shared the house with the colonel and his wife.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘So the last person you fetched was this other man, Peter Willberg.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Why did you not pick him up along with his niece, Leonora? I see she had lived with him since her own father died.’

  I noticed Mr Holt’s lip quivered. ‘Mr Willberg wasn’t home. Miss Leonora told me he was busy and I should come back for him. I did so and left him in Morningside just after eight.’

  McGray whistled. ‘Long drive for a single day! Mr Willberg lived nearby the botanical gardens – I saw it on the dog’s tag. That’s on the other side of Edinburgh.’

  Holt showed his palms. ‘That was my job, inspectors.’

  ‘And then you went to Cattle Market,’ I continued.

  ‘Aye. I was supposed to pick up the gypsy at half nine. I was there early, but her footman – or whatever she calls the fat lad that sells beer for her – told me she was busy with another client. I waited for almost two hours. My arse got numb in the seat. She finally came out just after eleven. I remember the time very well. I knew my master would be really annoyed.’

  ‘Did Madame Katerina offer any explanation?’

  ‘None, sir. She just jumped in and asked me very bossily to hurry up. I couldn’t even see her face. She had it covered with this black veil. And she stank. I think she’d been drinking.’

  McGray clenched his hands at that. I wrote the detail down – as did the clerk – and underlined it before my next question.

  ‘Did you notice anything unusual in any of the guests?’

  ‘No … well, Miss Leonora was very excited, like she always was when she was up to that kind of occult stuff. Mr Willberg was a wee bit put out, but that was usual in him … They all looked very tense before I left them.’

  I asked him to describe the room in detail, and what he told us matched what we’d seen ourselves.

  ‘So you left them then,’ I said.

  ‘Aye. My orders were to leave and come back first thing in the morning, before all the other servants.’

  ‘What did you do that night?’

  His answer was confident enough. ‘I went to my local for a few drinks, and then straight home to the wife.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for that? Other than your wife and the drunkards at your local?’

  ‘Aye! The pub’s owner will remember. And – o’ course, my landlord. I had a quarrel with him when I got home.’

  ‘That late?’ I asked. ‘That must have been in the small hours.’

  Holt again blushed. ‘Erm … You might call it early, sir. Just past five o’clock, I think. He was hoping to get his rent. I’ve … I’ve been hiding from him for a few months now. He threatened to evict us. I just told him I had no money.’

  ‘Because ye had spent it on pints and drams,’ McGray added, making Holt look down.

  ‘I … I also owe money at the pub.’

  He barely managed to utter those words, his hands tight on his lap.

  I asked for his address, the name of the public house and the address of his landlord.

  ‘And then you went back home?’

  ‘Aye. Had a wee rest – as much as the wife allowed, with her whining – then washed myself and went back to the house.’

  ‘I see. Did you find it locked?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘But only you and your masters had the keys.’

  Holt gulped at this, and only managed to nod. I took note and moved on.

  ‘Did it look as if anyone had been and gone?’

  ‘No, not at all, sir.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Y-yes! I was looking down, sir – I had a mighty hangover, you see – and I remember I only saw the tracks of my carriage. It was very muddy ; the wheels going so deep caught my eye.’

  I frowned. That would be impossible to verify. Then again, why would Holt admit there had been no other intrusions? That only incriminated him further.

  ‘Now,’ said McGray, leaning forwards, ‘tell us how ye found the bodies. Who was where? And don’t spare any details.’

  Holt gulped. His face changed from red to green and he began rubbing his hands. It looked as if he were trying to scrub off his own skin.

  ‘Poor Miss Leonora …’ he began, on the verge of tears, ‘was lying on the camera. It was all smashed to pieces. And there was this horrible look on her face, like … like she’d seen hell itself.’

  The man pressed his eyelids, attempting not to cry, but doing it so hard I feared he’d squash his eyes. He then cleared his throat and looked back at us, his expression slightly ashamed.

  ‘Young Bertrand was lying right next to her, the same expression. His chair was knocked back. I think he fell backwards.

  ‘On the other side were Mrs Grenville and her grandfather, both on the floor. The poor lady was still clutching the old man’s sleeve. I don’t know why, but she had this look … like a wee child trying to reach for her father …

  ‘The colonel and Mr Willberg were on each side of the gypsy. They … they were also on the floor, but …’ Holt stared on, and for a full minute he said no more.

  ‘But what?’ McGray prompted.

  Holt twitched, as if suddenly reawakened. ‘Everyone else looked scared, but not them. They looked angered.’

  ‘Angered, ye say?’

  ‘Aye. They were frowning. Their jaws were closed tight.’

  I took note of that. ‘What about the gypsy?’

  ‘Oh, she was still on her seat. The only one still on her seat.’

  ‘But she had fainted, aye?’ McGray jumped.

  ‘Aye … her head bent backwards. I …’ Holt shuddered. ‘I thought she was dead. Nobody looked more dead than her. She had her mouth open, that black veil on her. I don’t remember seeing her breathe … She looked … like a corpse.’

  ‘And you found no signs of violence. Something that suggested there might have been a skirmish or an intruder?’

  ‘Not at all, sir. Not even today. Everything in the house was as I had left it.’

  ‘So … you’d say they simply dropped dead? Just like that? Killed by an evil spirit?’

  He only managed a nod, his eyes misting up, and remained si
lent. I spoke as soon as I finished taking my notes.

  ‘And you went to the police straight away?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Immediately.’

  ‘It must have taken you at least a few moments to react.’

  ‘It’s … it’s all a blur, sir. I think I retched … I … I did freeze for a wee while, but as soon as I recovered I ran out o’ there and called for help.’

  ‘Did you touch anything?’

  ‘N-no! Course not!’

  ‘Did you not even stir the bodies? See if anyone might still be alive?’

  ‘No! I …’ he gulped, more and more anxious. ‘I touched no one. I didn’t dare!’

  ‘It is all right,’ I said, as conciliatory as possible. ‘It was a terrible sight. I would not blame you if you ran to the bodies and—’

  ‘I didn’t!’ he roared, banging his fists on the table and then covering his face. He wept miserably for a while, and we gave him time.

  McGray was the first one to speak. ‘We’ll have to keep ye here, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What? Are you mad? I just told you I have a—!’

  ‘Yer the mad one if ye think we’re goin’ to let ye go after this. Ye broke in, tried to steal goods, resisted arrest, took an item from a potential crime scene …’ He gathered breath for dramatic effect. ‘There’s nae way to prove ye didnae mess with that room before ye called the peelers … And, to be honest, I feel like yer a filthy liar.’

  I sighed. ‘McGray …’

  ‘A scrounging, thieving, scheming sod. I think ye did it.’

  Holt again changed colour, this time to pure white. ‘What?’

  ‘I think ye killed them all.’

  ‘What? Why would I kill my master? I told youse, I’m up to the neck in debt! And everything I said can be verified! Ask the people who saw me that night. Ask Mrs Eliza or—’

  McGray leaned forwards. ‘I ken there’s something yer nae telling us. I can see it in yer face.’

  Holt went silent at once, faster than if Nine-Nails had punched him straight in the stomach.

  I was about to give him the benefit of the doubt, but that expression alone rekindled my suspicions.

  ‘The inquest is tomorrow morning,’ I said. ‘You will have plenty of opportunity to talk then.’

  10