A Spell of Murder

by Kennedy Kerr

  ‘I see.’ The Laird raised his eyebrow.

  ‘May I ask what you saw them about?’ Temerity knew it was rude to enquire, but her instinct was shouting at her that this was somehow important. The Laird sighed.

  ‘It sounds silly. But it felt very real to me at the time…’ He played with the handle on his mug. ‘I was married twice. I don’t know if you knew that?’

  Tilda nodded.

  ‘We’re sorry for your loss.’ Her voice was clipped and formal, but nonetheless kind.

  ‘Thank you. My first wife, Emma, drowned in the loch. She was carrying our child. Her body was never found. Two years later, I married Claire, the mother of my son, Anthony, but sadly the marriage didn’t last.’ He sighed; Temerity wanted to reach out, touch his hand, hug him, something that would take away the grief she could see was ageing him.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Temerity said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘If I’m honest, the marriage to Claire didn’t last because I was still mourning for Emma. Terrible thing. Just terrible. At the time, I needed some kind of support and I heard that your mother was a psychic medium. I wanted to speak to Emma. I needed… something.’

  Temerity nodded.

  ‘She took pity on me and we sat down in a séance, the three of us: your mother, father, and me. It was upstairs, above the shop. Your mother had made it very esoteric in that room. There were statues of Egyptian gods that stood floor to ceiling. Shelves and shelves of books and the floorboards were painted black. They’d painted a huge pentagram at the centre of it, a magic circle. I didn’t understand all the symbols. We sat down on it. She’d lit a very smoky incense; I do remember that smell. Like a church.’

  Temerity nodded again, not wanting to break the Laird’s stream of memory. The room that their parents had used for magic – which was now Tilda and the rare books’ domain – still held the woody aroma of frankincense.

  ‘Nothing came through, but your mother said she had picked up something else. A curse which had been put on Emma and the baby.’

  ‘A curse?’ Tilda looked interested.

  ‘I’m sure you think that’s ridiculous. I’ve never mentioned it to anyone apart from you, actually. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this now, apart from that your parents tried to help once.’ Tears had appeared in the Laird’s eyes. Temerity obeyed her instincts now and put her hand gently on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Love. What must you think of me?’

  ‘It’s not at all ridiculous,’ she said softly. ‘Remember that we’re the children of two occultists. We know what they were doing up in that room. This is the least of it.’

  ‘What else did Mother say about the curse? Did she know who had cast it?’ Tilda questioned.

  ‘She tried, but it had been concealed too well. Whoever cast it was very thorough, she said.’

  ‘Interesting. And you had no inkling of anyone that might want to harm Emma and the baby?’

  ‘None. Emma was loved by all who knew her,’ the Laird replied. ‘After that, I didn’t go back. Maria, your mother, wanted me to – she was intrigued by the curse, but I couldn’t… it was too upsetting.’

  ‘Of course.’ Temerity had a thought. ‘Do you have any items that belonged to your first wife? I might be able to tune in with her spirit that way. Give you some clarification. Peace, maybe, after all this time.’

  The Laird shook his head.

  ‘Honestly, I’d rather just let it lie, now. It’s been too long. But thank you.’

  Temerity looked at his grey pallor; at the shadows under his eyes. You’ve carried the worry of this curse too long, she thought, but she didn’t say it. He had come to terms with it in his own way, even if it was making him ill. You had to let people walk their own paths.

  ‘Well, if you—’ She broke off as the back door opened and Liz walked in with an elderly woman on her arm. Temerity felt a sudden chill go up her spine: a sharp breeze had blown in behind Liz as she entered.

  ‘Ah, Mother.’ The Laird sprung up from his seat and went to go and take her arm. ‘Ladies, this is my mother, Lady Balfour Dalcairney. Mother, this is Tilda and Temerity Love, from the village.’

  ‘I know who they are,’ Lady Dalcairney rasped; her voice had been ruined, either from years of smoking or shouting; Temerity suspected both. ‘And I won’t have them in my house!’

  19

  ‘Mother!’ The Laird looked shocked. ‘Please don’t be rude to our visitors!’ but Lady Dalcairney wouldn’t be silenced. She hissed and spat at Temerity and Tilda and made the old gesture of protection from the evil eye. Temerity exchanged a look of amazement with Tilda and stepped back.

  ‘Witches! You’re the curse on this house! I repel thee in the name of God!’ She wrangled her arm free from Liz, reached into her blouse and pulled out a gold crucifix on a long chain and waved it at them.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s got into her.’ David Dalcairney blushed as he and Liz caught Lady Dalcairney’s flailing arms and guided her firmly into the hallway. ‘I’ll help Liz make her comfortable and I’ll be back.’

  ‘We should go.’ Temerity stood up. ‘We’re obviously upsetting her by being here.’ Gods, this got weird quickly, she thought. It’s like someone just turned on the horror B-movie filter.

  Tilda glared at her and cleared her throat.

  ‘No, stay!’ Liz called over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. This isn’t your fault.’

  ‘We’ll be here!’ Tilda called after them; the sisters listened as Liz and David guided Lady Dalcairney up the stairs.

  ‘Well, that was… unexpected,’ Tilda said.

  ‘For want of a better word. That woman’s got bats in the belfry.’ Temerity rolled her eyes.

  ‘She must be going senile. Poor thing.’

  ‘Not so senile that she didn’t know who we were,’ Temerity mused. ‘But what was all that about a curse on the house?’

  ‘The same curse as the Laird was talking about, I guess. They’ve both come to think of it in the same way. The loss of the two wives like that.’ Tilda drained her coffee.

  ‘No one’s ever hissed at me before. Like a cat.’ Temerity still felt quite affected by what had happened: it was shocking, really, for anyone to think that they needed to protect themselves from her. And yet Lady Dalcairney had, because she was terrified. Temerity had seen it in her eyes.

  ‘She was scared of us. Confused,’ she said.

  ‘That’s how it is with dementia. You can’t keep a grip on what’s real. I think paranoia is common with it. You think people are trying to kill you, that kind of thing. It’s so sad.’ Tilda nodded.

  Liz reappeared in the kitchen.

  ‘The Laird’s just quieting her down now. I’m so sorry about that.’ She straightened her navy blue cardigan, under which she wore a plain cream blouse with an enamelled pin featuring a blue and purple thistle at the neck. ‘She gets muddled. I don’t know why she responded to you in that way.’

  ‘She called us witches. So, she knows something about us. It wasn’t random,’ Temerity said.

  ‘Yes. I think she remembers your mother and father from when they were alive. You do have a resemblance to your mother. And the night of the rescue, she asked who was here. I would have told her you were here then. She’s got it all confused in her head, though. Ah, I see you’ve made some coffee.’ Liz busied herself cutting some cake and laying it out on a plate with some biscuits, which she set down on the table. ‘Here, help yourselves.’

  ‘You knew our mother?’ Temerity was surprised. ‘I didn’t think you’d worked here that long.’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t, but I had a friend who used to live in the village and I used to come and visit her. I remember my friend pointing out your mother in the village, once or twice. She was a very striking woman,’ Liz responded breezily.

  ‘So, what was it you wanted to tell us?’ Tilda said, taking a china plate with painted roses and two shortcake biscuits. ‘Your note wasn’t exactly clear.’

  ‘Wel
l, it’s delicate. I wanted to speak to you first, because you seem to have a relationship with the Inspector, Temerity… and I didn’t want to go straight to him. I wasn’t sure, you see.’

  ‘Sure of what?’

  Liz sighed.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if it was him I saw. But I think it was.’

  ‘Who? The Inspector? Where?’

  ‘No, dear. The man he’s been questioning. My friend Dora told me – you might know her; she works at the police station?’

  Temerity rolled her eyes, not surprised in the least that Dora had told all her friends about Ben’s interrogation. Suspect confidentiality clearly wasn’t a top priority in Lost Maidens Loch.

  ‘Ben McKinley.’

  ‘Yes. Well, he was here, you see. One Sunday. I wouldn’t normally be here on a Sunday, but I’d popped in because I’d left my cardigan, you know how it is. When you get older, you can be a little bit absent-minded. Anyway, I was in the kitchen and I looked out and I saw him. He was in the garden, talking to Lady Dalcairney.’

  ‘Ben McKinley, the teacher? How can you be sure?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know who he was then, dear. At the time I thought there was a new gardener, or maybe a friend of the Laird had popped in. It wasn’t my business.’

  ‘When was this?’ Tilda asked.

  ‘A month or so ago. It was mid-morning and she was taking her daily constitutional. That means, generally, she sits outside for a short while if it’s sunny and it was bright that day. She likes to potter around the garden, but she needs help for that now. It was mid-January, I think. Unseasonably warm.’

  ‘And did you hear what they were talking about?’ Temerity asked.

  Liz looked offended. ‘I don’t eavesdrop, dear. It wouldn’t be fitting.’

  ‘Right. Do you have any idea what it might have been about, then?’

  ‘None at all,’ Liz said. ‘But the thing is, dearie, I was just on my way out and I noticed that something was missing. Now, as you can imagine, a house like this is absolutely full to the brim with knickknacks. Cigar boxes, perfume bottles, vases, candlesticks, that kind of thing. And it all needs polishing and caring for, which is my responsibility, though Sally often helps.’

  Temerity nodded.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, the thing is, there was a hand mirror of Lady Dalcairney’s that I’d put out downstairs for polishing. There were a few things; a matching hairbrush, a couple of brass vases, some ornaments. I’d put them on the hall table to do on Monday when I came back in. And the mirror was gone.’

  Temerity exchanged a glance with Tilda.

  ‘Can you describe the mirror?’

  ‘Yes, of course, dear. It’s made of pewter and it has a thistle design on the back. It’s been in her family for many years. At the time, I just assumed that the Laird or Lady must have moved it and not told me, though they wouldn’t usually do something like that. But then, when Dora told me that a mirror just like it was found next to that poor girl’s body… and then, with him being the prime suspect in the case…’

  ‘There are other leads that the Inspector is following up,’ Temerity interjected. ‘We don’t know that it was him.’

  ‘Oh, of course, dear. But I wanted to tell you. About the mirror. It must be the same one.’

  ‘It might not be. But even if it is, it doesn’t prove anything except Ben McKinley being a thief,’ Tilda added. ‘Though it’s odd that he was here in the first place. Surely, if we ask Lady Dalcairney…?’

  ‘I doubt she remembers, but you can ask her. I would have suggested asking her just now if she hadn’t got so upset. You can see how she is.’

  ‘I think the mirror was placed purposefully at the crime scene,’ Temerity said, thoughtfully. ‘It’s quite a large thing. It’s not exactly something that Molly would have just carried around, tucked into her pocket. I got the impression it was there for a reason.’

  Temerity didn’t add the fact that the mirror’s glass had also been painted black, making it into a scrying or magic mirror. If it had been stolen, then that was something that could have been done to it afterwards.

  ‘Was there anything strange about the mirror?’ Temerity wasn’t going to mention it to Liz, but wanted to see if she knew about the black glass. If she did, then it had already been customised before it was stolen, which threw up a whole other set of questions.

  But Liz shook her head.

  ‘No. It’s a hand mirror, you know, part of an old-fashioned set. It belonged to Lady Dalcairney’s grandmother and she inherited it. She’s always been very sentimental about family heirlooms.’

  Temerity nodded. If Ben had stolen the mirror, that would imply that he had made it into a witch’s magic mirror before giving it to Molly. As a gift, maybe? But why? Neither of them had showed any sign of being involved in witchcraft. Temerity didn’t count someone’s flatmate owning a pack of tarot cards as being involved in any way.

  ‘Would Sally have taken it?’ Tilda asked. Liz looked surprised at the suggestion.

  ‘Oh! I don’t think so,’ she replied, but she sounded uncertain.

  ‘How long has Sally worked here?’ Temerity asked. ‘Do you trust her?’

  ‘Of course I trust her! I don’t know how long… a year, no more than that.’ Liz frowned. ‘I can’t think she’d be involved with all this.’

  Temerity wanted to ask more about the silent maid, but she couldn’t think of a way to phrase it without sounding unkind about Sally’s silent manner, so she decided to leave it for now.

  ‘Is Lady Dalcairney a very religious woman?’ Temerity asked, remembering the gold crucifix.

  Liz sighed.

  ‘Oh, yes. Very much so. I understand that the Dalcairneys have always been good churchgoers. As they should be, of course.’ Liz sighed. ‘Though I do think it’s slightly encouraged her… imagination, let’s say. It’s not her fault, of course, it’s the dementia. But she does have an obsession about the family being cursed. It’s quite the task to talk her down from a full-blown panic sometimes. Once she knocked over a candle and set her quilt on fire. It was a wonder she didn’t burn to death.’

  ‘What does she think, at those times?’

  ‘Oh, that someone wants to kill her. She’s still grieving for her two daughters-in-law. She thinks the second one’s dead, too, though I do keep telling her she’s living in Italy. I’m sure that’s it.’

  ‘Is there anything else you want to tell us?’ Tilda asked.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if this mirror business is relevant. But do tell the Inspector if you think it is,’ Liz said.

  ‘I will,’ Temerity said. ‘You could have told him yourself, though. They interrogated McKinley this week. This would have been key information.’

  ‘Ah, well, I didn’t want to disturb him with something that might have been silly,’ Liz confessed. ‘He must be so busy. But I thought you’d want to know, either way.’

  ‘Of course,’ Temerity agreed.

  ‘Well, ladies. I’ll have to see you out because the hydrotherapist will be here any minute for Lady Dalcairney.’ Liz stood up and dusted crumbs off her skirt.

  It was only then that Temerity noticed that Liz’s wool skirt was embroidered at the hem with a pattern of golden feathers.

  ‘Will she be all right?’ Tilda was asking as she followed Liz out into the long corridor. Temerity, frowning, walked behind. Was this just a coincidence, or was there another suspect in Lost Maidens Loch?

  ‘Oh yes, don’t worry. She’s fine,’ the housekeeper said. ‘I take good care of her.’

  They said their goodbyes and the sisters got into Tilda’s car. Sally was nowhere to be seen, but as Temerity raised her gaze to one of the upper windows, she saw a figure in black watching them. She felt a shiver go down her spine.

  ‘Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting,’ Tilda said as she started the motor.

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘That maid is kind of spooky,’ Tilda added.

  ‘I know,�
� Temerity agreed, thoughtful.

  The embroidery on Liz’s skirt was just as much of a sign as the spirit feathers on Beth and Ben’s shoulders. Was Liz involved in all this somehow, or did she have some kind of other secret? What was Liz guilty of?

  ‘The Inspector’s going to want to hear about it. I better give him a call. Can you drop me off at the station?’ Temerity added.

  ‘He’s more likely to be at Muriel’s, but sure.’ Tilda headed down the drive. ‘I think there’s something more going on there. That maid Sally is suspicious. And I don’t feel like Liz told us everything.’

  ‘No.’ Temerity looked out of the window; mist had lowered onto the loch and the bright morning was gone. ‘I don’t think she did.’

  20

  Temerity stood on the top rung of her rickety stepladder, carefully cleaning the huge gold-leaf chandelier with a soft rag. The radio was playing an all-1950s internet station and Temerity was singing along when the door opened and Angus Harley stepped into the shop. She wasn’t expecting him, or anyone, really – she’d started to consider being closed for a couple of days a week at least in the tourist off-season. The regulars of Lost Maidens Loch didn’t tend to find themselves in need of esoteric artefacts that often.

  ‘Oh!’ Caught off guard, Temerity nearly toppled over, and fought the impulse to hang onto the chandelier. Instead she crouched down, grabbing on to the ladder which swayed precariously. Harley strode over and steadied it, holding out a hand for her to step down safely.

  ‘You should be careful on that thing,’ he warned, unsmiling. ‘Looks like it’s going to fall apart any minute.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Temerity, annoyed that she’d only just avoided swinging from the chandelier like a monkey in front of a man she still regarded as having the social skills of a wild animal. Touché, Wolfman: touché, she thought. ‘It’s lasted this long.’

  ‘All the more reason to get a new one?’ he commented as she climbed down.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she replied tersely, thinking, my stepladder is none of your business. ‘Can I help you?’