by Kennedy Kerr
‘Hmmm. What else did you find out? Don’t hold out on me, Muriel, I know you know more.’
Muriel sucked in her cheeks.
‘I don’t know what ye mean!’ she protested.
‘Muriel. Come on.’
Muriel sighed.
‘All’s I know is that the other teachers didnae like her much. The kids said she was too strict, she wasnae a team player, didnae play nice in the staff room, lots of arguments. The only one she was popular with was that Ben McKinley. I never liked him. He comes in from time to time but he’s always a difficult bugger, wants to know what I cook the sausages in, where do I get the eggs from. Eat the food or don’t eat it, don’t quiz me on where I get it,’ she grumbled.
‘They were seeing each other, then?’ Temerity asked, innocently, as if she didn’t know.
‘According to him they were. In secret, because of workin’ together.’ Muriel scoffed. ‘I think it’s a lovers’ quarrel. Him or that boyfriend of the flatmate that she stole, they’ll have done it.’ She nodded confidently. ‘Inspector says Ben has an alibi because he was on playground duty when she drank the poison, mind ye.’
‘Was he?’ Temerity frowned. Presumably the poisoner would have to have been present to drop the poison into Molly’s mug after she had made the tea, which meant it had to be one of the other teachers. It could have been Laura Hardcastle – a headmistress could be anywhere in the school at any time if she wanted. But what would her motive be?
‘Aye, lots of kids and teachers say he was, the whole break, didnae come inside. So maybe it’s the other one. Beth Bennett’s fiancé.’
‘But she was poisoned at school. How could the other guy have been there to do it? Who is he, anyway?’ Temerity cut an egg in half and mopped up the bright yolk with the thick bread Muriel had cut from a large loaf behind the counter.
‘Dunno, darlin’. She never brought him in here that I know of.’ Muriel shrugged. The door opened; Temerity looked round to see Inspector Hyland, bundled up in his coat, hat and scarf. ‘Ah, good mornin’, Kim. The usual?’
‘Bless ye, Muriel, aye.’ Kim Hyland took off his coat and hung it up on the pine coat stand in the corner of the café. ‘Mornin’, Temerity! Just the lassie I’m looking for. I hear yer parrot tried tae kill ma new constable.’ The familiar twinkle in his eye showed he was joking.
‘Hebrides is the best burglar alarm a girl could ever have.’ Temerity shrugged.
‘Aye, well, I take it Angus wasnae tryin’ tae burgle ye?’ Hyland enquired.
‘No. He came in on the way home from Beth Bennett’s house and Hebrides got a little… territorial.’
‘Hm. So, Angus tells me ye found somethin’ there. A Russian doll?’
Temerity nodded and recounted what she had seen, but also the strange sensations she’d experienced touching the doll and the hand-drawn sigil inside it.
‘Odd. Ye felt funny when ye touched that mirror as well, aye.’ Hyland regarded her completely seriously; unlike Angus Harley, Kim Hyland knew that there was more in heaven and earth than could be dreamed of.
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘Apparently, Beth and Molly didn’t get along. Maybe she got her revenge with witchcraft somehow.’ Hyland accepted a mug of coffee from Muriel. ‘What d’ye think? More popular nowadays, I understand.’
Temerity made a face.
‘I did see some tarot cards next to her bed. But if I’m being totally honest, I don’t think Beth Bennett’s a witchy type. She just doesn’t have it about her. And I asked her about the cards and she said they were a gift. She’s hardly used them.’
‘She might be lyin’.’ Hyland sipped his coffee.
‘She might, but I don’t think she is. Not about that, anyway. What do you know about Beth’s fiancé? The one that Molly’s supposed to have gone off with?’
‘News travels fast.’ The Inspector raised a salt-and-pepper eyebrow at Muriel, who avoided his look. He sighed. ‘Guy called Andrew May. Works at the same company in Glasgow, firm of accountants. She’s a PA there. Beth told Angus she’d been seeing him a few months and then after Molly moved in, she came downstairs one morning tae find them canoodlin’ on the sofa. She told Molly tae pack her bags. This was aboot a week before Molly died. We havenae been able to speak to him to substantiate her claims, though.’
‘What was Beth doing on the day of the murder?’ Temerity loaded sausage and baked beans on her fork, savouring the breakfast. She recalled the feather she’d seen on Beth’s shoulder. It was supposed to be a sign of guilt, but what was Beth Bennett guilty of? Even though she didn’t really like Beth, Temerity didn’t feel in her heart that she was the murderer. Her instincts tended to be right, but instincts wouldn’t stand up in a court of law.
‘She said she was at work, but Harley checked yesterday and they said she was off ill that day. Stomach bug.’
Temerity chewed her food thoughtfully.
‘You’d remember if you were off sick just the week before, wouldn’t you?’
‘I would have thought so, aye.’ Muriel deposited another full Scottish in front of Hyland. ‘Thanks, darlin’.’
‘So Beth doesn’t have an alibi?’ Temerity frowned. ‘Would she have done it?’
‘Murders have been done for less.’ Hyland shrugged. ‘Affairs of the heart are always the most savage. But no one saw her at the school that day; the school has high fences and every visitor has tae sign in at reception.’
‘So it couldn’t be her…’
‘Hm. Maybe, maybe not. People are ingenious when they want to be.’
‘What about Laura? Ms Hardcastle?’
The Inspector frowned at Temerity and stopped chewing his food.
‘The Headmistress? What aboot her?’
‘Does she have an alibi?’
‘Aye, she does, as a matter of fact. Why ask aboot Hardcastle, though? Ye suspect her?’
‘It’s nothing. Just… the stag. I saw the stag in the vision when I touched the mirror. I saw Laura yesterday, and she… she had a stag design on her hair clip.’
Kim Hyland smiled and returned to his breakfast.
‘No offence, Tem, but I dinnae think our police work should be based on ladies’ fashions. As I say, Laura Hardcastle has an alibi for the mornin’ of the murder. She was in her office doin’ paperwork; the receptionist swears she never left till mid lunchtime, and that was when she heard a commotion from the staff room.’
‘She still could have left without her receptionist noticing,’ Temerity argued. Hyland snorted and almost choked on a bite of sausage.
‘I assume ye’ve not met Brenda,’ he said when he’d recovered. ‘Brenda could tell ye what time a magpie flew past and how many feathers it had.’
Temerity sighed.
‘Fair enough. I didn’t exactly want it to be Laura, but… I don’t know. The stag thing is driving me crazy,’ she explained. ‘What about this Ben guy? Beth said he was stalking Molly. Stalkers often turn into murderers.’
‘Aye. He says they were seein’ each other.’ Hyland speared a hash brown and poked it in a glob of ketchup.
‘He can say what he likes now. Laura Hardcastle told me that she’s put him on suspension for workplace harassment, though.’ Temerity thought of Ben in the staff room: how he’d wailed. He’d been inconsolable. Was it all a pretence?
‘Hm. I know. He was out in the playground when it happened. We’re goin’ tae go and talk tae him again about the stalkin’. We can check emails and texts so it should be pretty easy tae see if he’s lyin’ aboot that, anyway.’
‘Good.’ Temerity finished the last of her tea. ‘So, what else can I do?’
‘Research that mirror. I want tae know who it belonged tae. Can ye do that?’
‘Of course. Can I see it again?’ she asked.
‘I’ll send Harley around with it later. You’ll be in?’
Temerity balked at the idea of seeing Angus Harley again so soon after walking in on him with his shirt off, but she nodded.
/> ‘I’ll be home. I’ve got work to do.’
‘For what it’s worth, I think ye should go to that conference in Alaska.’ Hyland burped and covered his mouth with a paper serviette. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Who told you about that?’ Temerity demanded.
‘Constable Harley mentioned it. He said you weren’t going.’
‘Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t want to go,’ she snapped.
‘Hey! Dinnae have a go at me! I’d rather you stayed here and helped me oot. God knows I’m not gonna get to go on that cruise with Kathleen otherwise,’ the Inspector muttered. ‘But I know how talented ye are, darlin’. Don’t hide yer light under a bushel, is all I’m sayin’.’
‘Noted.’ Temerity shrugged on her coat and hat for the walk back to the shop.
‘I’ll send him over at the end of the day!’ Hyland called out as she left. Temerity waved, shouted a goodbye at Muriel and stepped out into a storm.
11
Temerity opened the shop door and looked down the dark cobblestone street. The wind was vicious and rain sliced down from heavy black clouds, edged in a murky yellow from the full moon behind them. She had run home from the storm, returning home from The Singing Kettle at about ten; all day after that, the storm had lashed the village.
It was past six o’clock and Angus Harley hadn’t turned up with the pewter mirror. Irritated once again, Temerity closed the door, flipped the Open sign to Closed and slid the old lead bolts into place. If he wasn’t going to come, then he should have called to let her know. It was plain disrespectful, and that was all there was to it. She entertained herself by imagining herself berating him:
Temerity: Why are you so rude?
Harley: Please excuse me. I was raised by wolves.
Temerity: I feel like we’ve had this conversation already.
Harley: [howls sadly]
Temerity: Why didn’t you turn up? I waited in for you. I could have done something else. There were a variety of sparkling social events I could have attended.
Harley: Please accept these animal entrails as an apology.
Still, she had managed to do some research while she was waiting. Mirrors like the one found by Molly’s body were common enough and often part of a dressing-table set with a hair brush and comb. The thistle detail indicated that it was Scottish, but that didn’t help Temerity much; she knew it was more than a hundred years old because of its similarity to others from that time she’d seen at antique auctions. She sighed and adjusted her green-rimmed glasses. Sometimes they pinched; she rubbed the bridge of her nose thoughtfully.
The fact that the mirror had been customised in the way it had, with the glass painted black, was more interesting. Witches usually made their own magical tools, believing that they could be imbued with the witch’s power in the creation process. There was also a value in recycling items and not buying them mass-produced, supporting capitalist manufacturers. Temerity knew that the Inspector would be dusting the mirror for fingerprints, but when she got hold of it again she felt sure she could find out much more if she could handle it without the latex gloves this time. If she could only dispel the strange confusion she had when she held it. It was much the same kind of fog as when she had touched the Russian doll, only she had got more information from the doll. Both items had clearly been bewitched.
Charybdis the Russian Blue, who Tilda and Temerity sometimes called Carrie, snaked around her ankles as she stood by the door. She was, as a rule, haughty and standoffish, but today she seemed to want Temerity’s attention.
‘What’s up, sweetie?’ Temerity crouched down and stroked the dense fur around Charybdis’s ears. ‘What’s wrong with my Carrie-Cat?’
The cat miaowed and went to the door, scratching at it.
‘You want to go out? But it’s blowing a hoolie out there.’ Temerity frowned. Charybdis rarely ever went out; she deigned to do her business in the garden, but she would waddle back afterwards and curl up on a blanket.
Carrie scratched at the wooden door again.
‘Hey! Naughty.’ Temerity sighed and opened the door again to let the cat out; sometimes, in a storm, the cats dashed wildly around the house, up and down the stairs, completely contrary to their usual sedate habits. You could tell if a storm was coming if they did that, but the storm was already here.
But Charybdis didn’t run out into the street; she sat primly bedside Temerity’s feet, as if waiting for something to happen.
‘Carrie, I’m not going to stand next to an open door all night. I’ll catch my death,’ Temerity tutted and was closing the door when she saw a door open a way up the street and her two neighbours, Alf Hersey and Harry Donaldson, emerge, wrapping themselves up in scarves and coats. Alf and Harry were both in their sixties, though they kept pretty fit. Harry still rowed and both of them were into hill walking and yoga. That was, until recently: Alf, the village doctor, had been at home recovering from a heart bypass. Harry waved at her.
‘Alf, what on earth are you doing, going out in this?’ Temerity called out as she buttoned up her baby-blue twinset cardigan against the cold. She had an old Godzilla-print T-shirt underneath it which really wasn’t protection enough against the weather. She was also wearing red Capri pants and her Minnie Mouse slippers.
‘Haven’t you heard? There’s a boat lost on the loch. Three tourists on board. Been on the radio, they need rowers. Going to see if we can help!’ Harry called out.
‘Oh, Lord. Wait, I’ll come with you.’ Temerity grabbed her coat, a long grey-and-black winter houndstooth and buttoned it up. There was no point taking an umbrella: the wind was too fierce, so she picked up her rainproof gloves and a fleece-lined brown leather deerstalker Tilda had bought her as a joke a few Christmases ago. Temerity actually quite liked it.
Tilda appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Tem, I just heard on the radio… oh. Hi, Harry. Are you going to help?’ she called down. ‘Hang on. Two minutes, I’ll come with you.’
Tilda emerged a few minutes later, bundled in a purple wool coat that had been their mother’s, with green wellingtons underneath and a mustard wool scarf wrapped around her head.
They ventured into the storm.
By the time they got to The Singing Kettle, it had become the centre of a rescue operation.
‘I told them not tae stay out long. And not to go over by the Manor.’ Henry Sutherland, who owned and ran the boat shed, was telling the Inspector as they walked in. ‘It’s my fault. I should hae known a storm was comin’ in. But they were so insistent.’
‘Ah, now.’ Muriel appeared with a tray of mugs of hot chocolate and coffee. ‘Ye cannae have known. It’s just unlucky, aye.’
Depending on what you wanted to believe, Lost Maidens Loch was named after an ancient legend that a mythical lady had drowned in the loch – or you could believe the more likely explanation that its name was inspired by its shape, which was, if you looked at it from above, the shape of a girl’s head with long hair.
The rounded part of the ‘head’ was to the west of the village, which sat on the south side of the loch. The ends of the Maiden’s ‘hair’ stretched out to the east, alongside the main road that ran in and out of the village, in three twisting, narrow straits that were shallower than the main part of the Loch. However, they were thick with an unusual river weed that could stop boats. Sometimes, people and swimming dogs got tangled in it, too.
Dalcairney Manor sat on the north side of the loch, across from the village. If you didn’t want a meandering drive along tiny roads (that often flooded) to get from one to the other, you took a boat across. Yet boats making the full journey across the loch were rare, because the Laird didn’t often leave his home and the Manor accepted few visitors.
Tourists could take Henry Sutherland’s twice-weekly loch boat tour, which skimmed the edge of the black water, taking in the breath-taking views and local wildlife. Near to the Manor, there were rocks under the water that Henry could navigate in dayli
ght, but they were dangerous to those who didn’t know the loch – and even more dangerous in a storm.
‘Thanks for coming.’ Hyland took a mug of coffee and drained it; Temerity accepted a hot chocolate and coughed at the first sip, not expecting the whisky Muriel had added with a liberal hand.
‘Of course. I’m sorry we didn’t get here before.’
‘I can row, if you need anyone. Or handle a motorboat.’ Harry, a retired PE teacher, took off his hat and stuffed it in his pocket: his hair was shaved to his scalp, disguising his receding hairline. He and Alf had lived down the street from Love’s Curiosities for as long as Temerity could remember.
‘Great. Talk to Henry, he’s going to take a boat out and see if we can find them on the water. We’ve called the coastguard, they should be here soon. You all right with a boat in this weather?’
Harry nodded.
‘Reckon so. I was in the Navy. You don’t forget this kind of stuff.’
‘Right ye are.’ The Inspector nodded.
‘What about us?’ Tilda asked. ‘What can we do?’
‘Angus – Constable Harley – is organising search groups on foot. Walk around the loch, see if you can spot the boat.’ Hyland pointed at Harley, who was standing a few feet away. Temerity felt guilty for thinking he had been rude not to turn up to the shop with the mirror. But how was she to know he was coordinating a rescue mission? Raised by wolves. A human would have called, she thought crossly.
‘All right. Tils, you’re coming?’
‘Sure. But Alf, I think you should stay in the warm.’ Tilda looked concernedly at Alf, who coughed. Alf and Tilda had become close friends since he’d had his heart problems; Tilda would go round with various herbal concoctions aimed at improving his general health. Alf, the village doctor, had known the girls since they were children and Temerity suspected that he understood Tilda better than most, especially now that they had become friends as adults. Good doctors like Alf understood people’s characters as well as their bodies: Temerity suspected that Alf knew that Tilda was lonely and that her spiky manner shielded a sensitive soul. Tilda’s herbal medicine had helped, in fact, Tilda had said, glowing with pride one night a few weeks ago. Temerity was happy: it was a good thing for Alf to have someone keeping an eye on him. It took the burden off Harry a little bit and it gave Tilda someone else to talk to beside her sister and the cats.
