A Spell of Murder

by Kennedy Kerr

  ‘Hmmm.’ Angus heaped the mashed turnips on his fork. ‘McKinley poisoned it, then.’

  ‘But… if he wanted to poison Molly, why did he need to put something into a love potion? Either he wanted her to love him, or he wanted her dead. Not both,’ Temerity pointed out. ‘And Muriel says she passed Ben the love potion. So that rather throws doubt on the idea of him being the murderer, don’t you think?’ She sipped her cola.

  ‘I don’t know. All I can think is that we’ve got a witness who says she gave McKinley some kind of herbal concoction and then his… not girlfriend… love interest – in his eyes anyway – Molly Bayliss is found dead. Doesn’t look too good, does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Temerity mused and looked at her watch. ‘Have you got the patrol car?’

  ‘It’s in for a service.’ He gave her an enquiring look. ‘Why?’

  ‘Maybe we should go now,’ Temerity suggested. ‘We could still walk over.’

  ‘Where? To the Manor? I’m off duty and you haven’t eaten your pie.’ Angus pointed to the pottery bowl Temerity had put to one side which held a generous slice of pie and a stainless-steel jug of cream Muriel had placed next to it. He gave her that warm smile again and despite her initial assessment of him, Temerity felt herself melting a little. Maybe you do have a personality, under the ridiculously uncomfortable formality, she thought. It’s within the realms of possibility. ‘Why don’t we finish our dinner first?’ he looked at his watch. ‘It’s still early.’

  ‘You’ll go with me after that, though? The surprise approach, as it were.’

  ‘It is a little irregular.’ He swallowed his food. ‘But maybe you’re right. And I could do with a walk to digest all of this.’

  ‘I am right and a walk would do us both good, I’m sure,’ Temerity replied archly, grinning at him. For a moment, their eyes met and for the first time Temerity saw something more than duty and formality in Angus’s gaze. A smile played around his lips. ‘Aren’t you curious to find out what all this is about?’

  ‘Curious. Yes, I suppose you could say I am,’ he replied. Gods, was that flirting? Temerity thought. It was hard to tell, but she thought maybe that it was.

  Damn. He did look good when he smiled.

  24

  It was a clear night and the stars were starting to come out over Lost Maidens Loch by the time Angus and Temerity had finished their dinner.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she sighed as they made their way down the narrow cobbled path from The Singing Kettle and turned right along the wide pathway that led walkers alongside the loch. To their right, the village was already quiet; they passed the boat shed which was closed for the night, then Ken MacDonald’s glass-blowing studio, where he made colourful paperweights, vases and other trinkets for tourists. Next there was the bakery, where Mrs Black stringently resisted any modern innovations in baking and churned out the same selection of unsliced farmhouse, cob and bloomer, crusty white rolls, sandwiches and teacakes she had for forty years. Temerity didn’t care that she never varied; she loved Mrs Black’s bread. Tilda, being Tilda, complained that, in the twenty-first century, Mrs Black’s choice of sandwich cheese being either sliced or grated cheddar was unacceptably basic.

  Next to the bakery was a line of modern wood-panelled townhouses which looked over the loch; the wood was painted blue and the houses featured white picket fences and white windowsills, maybe to give them a kind of fisherman look. Unlike the older stone cottages, these modern properties had attracted a few new inhabitants to the village.

  ‘Have you heard? The old guard want those taken down. Say they’re not in keeping with the village and should never have been built.’ Temerity nodded to the houses, two of which still had FOR SALE signs on them.

  ‘Taken down? What do they think’s going to happen, they just fold up into a shoe box or something?’ Angus shook his head. ‘This place. It takes a lot of getting used to.’

  ‘It certainly does.’ Temerity nodded. ‘They’re just grumbling. They don’t like change.’

  ‘No, I noticed that.’ He jammed his hands in his pockets as they walked along.

  ‘How long have you been here now?’ she asked him. Neither of them had mentioned the incident outside the library. Also, who in their right mind gets in the mood to ask someone out by doing a house search? Temerity pondered. It’s weird. One minute you’re dusting for fingerprints, the next, you’re proposing romantic drinks. Maybe it’s a policeman thing.

  ‘A month. I was posted here from Glasgow.’

  ‘Pretty different, huh?’ Once they were past the village and started alongside the loch path, it was so quiet that Temerity could hear the occasional plop of a fish breaking the water to catch a fly on the water. The last time they’d walked this path together, they’d been part of the search party for the missing boat with the helicopter circling overhead. Tonight’s ambience was kind of nicer.

  ‘You could say that. I think I told you I was in the fire service originally. Joined the police about two years ago. After…’ His face clouded over and Temerity recalled the scars she’d seen on his back.

  ‘You can tell me what happened,’ she said, gently. He smiled wanly and stared at his feet on the path in the gathering dark.

  ‘We were called to a fire. I went in with some of the others. We were trained, we’d done it hundreds of times before. There was a kid trapped in her bedroom. She was crying out for us, so she hadn’t succumbed to smoke inhalation yet.’ He took in a deep breath, but continued plodding along. ‘We broke the door down. Got her out, passed her along the line, back outside. I was the last to leave. The ceiling fell in on me. I was knocked out. Next thing I know, I woke up in hospital.’

  ‘It must have taken a long time to heal,’ Temerity said, quietly. The scarring had spread right down one side of Angus’s torso. Even though he was awkward, she was at fault, too. She knew she had been purposefully cold with him, if only in her own mind. To some degree it was her and Tilda’s caustic sense of humour, but it was also a self-defence kind of thing. Temerity purposefully kept people at arm’s length, using humour as a defence mechanism. It was kind of difficult to stop, sometimes.

  ‘Months. After that, I dunno… I couldn’t face it. Going back into a fire. Long story short, I got accepted for police training instead. And here I am. Lost Maidens Loch.’

  ‘Here you are,’ Temerity agreed. She sensed he didn’t want to talk about the fire in great detail, so she changed the subject. ‘Has anyone told you about the legends about the town?’

  Angus laughed. ‘I read that damn brochure, whatever it was. It’s all haunted, or something.’

  Temerity laughed. ‘I don’t know about that. I’ve never detected any hauntings in the places it described. Elsewhere, occasionally. But the real legend of Lost Maidens Loch is that once, nobody knows when, a beautiful young woman—’

  ‘It’s always a beautiful young woman.’ Angus rolled his eyes. ‘Why can’t it be an average, middle-aged woman in this type of legend? Or an old man?’

  ‘You won’t get any argument from me.’ Registering modern views about women: check, Temerity thought. ‘It’d be nice if the victims in these old tales were middle-aged men. But, nonetheless, the legend holds that a beautiful young woman drowned in the loch. No one knows why; some say she was swimming out to her lover who waited for her on the other side. Some say that she was abducted by a dragon and taken to live under the loch as its Queen.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Silly, right?’

  ‘Not exactly believable,’ Angus agreed. ‘But there have been other deaths, too, right? Other drownings. Not always women. I did my research before I came here. And… I mean, you told me about your loss, too. It can’t be easy walking past here every day, remembering what happened.’

  Temerity gave a half smile.

  ‘The legend goes that, now, the loch requires a new victim every few years. I think it’s kind of sick that people think like that, but there you are.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence;
Temerity felt the grief she normally suppressed rising up in her.

  ‘Why do you stay?’ Angus reached for her hand; she stopped walking, surprised at the contact. ‘I’d have left years ago. I don’t think I could stand it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, taken aback at the sudden contact. ‘I suppose… I feel I can’t leave. I’d be leaving Patrick.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t want to go to that conference?’ he asked softly. Temerity looked away, not wanting to talk about it. ‘But he’s gone,’ Angus said, softly. The warmth from his hand seemed to transmit itself to her, along with a sadness that she was surprised by, but recognised.

  Temerity closed her eyes; touching Angus gave her access to him in a totally different way and she realised how similar he was to her. They were both hiding something, an old sadness. She couldn’t tell, for him, whether it was the fire or something else, but there was something there, hidden. Come on, now. Don’t make me empathise with the Wolfman, she thought, but she couldn’t help it. There was something there. Something familiar.

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.’

  ‘It’s not stupid. I suppose… I just don’t think someone like you belongs here.’

  ‘Someone like me?’ Temerity wondered what he meant. ‘A witch? You think I’m too much of a weirdo to live with all these normal people?’

  He dropped her hand; the last flash of emotion she got from him before her skin lost contact with his was guilt and embarrassment. She wasn’t angry, but grateful for an excuse to divert attention away from her grief by pretending to be irritated.

  ‘You might think what I do is weird, Angus, but I can assure you that there are lots of people – even in boring little Lost Maidens Loch – who appreciate my talents. And, I think you’ll find, when you’ve been here a little longer, that the Loch isn’t as normal as you think it is.’ She wagged her finger at him, and instantly remonstrated with herself: Oh dear lord, did I just wag my finger at him? What am I, eighty?

  ‘That’s not what I…’ he sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said gruffly.

  Temerity was glad that Angus didn’t have a psychic bone in his body, because if he could have heard her thoughts, she felt sure that he would have thought she was a crazy witch for sure.

  They walked on in silence.

  25

  It was the Laird who opened Dalcairney Manor’s heavy oak front door; Temerity had expected Liz or Sally. He looked surprised.

  ‘Constable. Miss Love. I wasn’t expecting you. Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? Come in!’ He ushered them into the long, carpeted hallway. ‘Did we make an appointment? I’m so sorry, but I’m on my way out just now.’ He shrugged on a black dinner jacket over a dress shirt and black trousers. ‘Fundraising dinner. I expect I’ll see the Inspector there.’ He smiled. ‘It’s all a bit of a fuss, really, but one must do one’s duty. Liz’ll be back in a minute, if you want to wait? She popped out into the garden, I think.’ He waved his hand distractedly in the general direction of the side of the house where Temerity had discovered the overgrown herb garden.

  ‘No problem. We just popped in to talk to Liz,’ Temerity lied; they actually wanted to speak to Lady Dalcairney, but it seemed safer to pretend that they were paying a call on a friend. ‘Just to say hi, really. We were walking up this way and thought she might take pity on us and make us a cup of tea.’

  Temerity could sense Angus’s slight incredulity at the ease of Temerity’s lie, but she ignored it and reached for his hand instead. He tensed immediately. Some detective you are, she thought, still cross in a not-very-cross way at him. She had invented the argument to have a reason not to have to talk about Patrick, but for the rest of the walk she had engineered an argument with Angus Harley in her mind, soundly debating him on issues of faith, life after death and the healing power of crystals. Therefore, by the time they came to the beach at the edge of the Laird’s land, Temerity felt argued out.

  Also, the more that David Dalcairney believed they were here as a couple, out for the evening on a romantic walk and not as an off-duty policeman and his psychic, unofficial colleague coming to ask difficult questions, the better.

  ‘Ah, right you are. Well, I’d better be off, but do wait in the lounge. As I say, she won’t be long, I’m sure.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Temerity stood a little closer to Angus as the Laird busied himself with a scarf and his shoes and waved them goodbye; Angus was as stiff as a board. Touching his hand, she knew instantly that he was uncomfortable, but when she realised the reason for his lack of comfort, she was mortified. He was quite deeply attracted to her and he was uncomfortable about the little show she was doing for the Laird’s benefit.

  Temerity felt immediately embarrassed and as soon as the door closed, she stepped away from Angus and let go of his hand.

  ‘That was a close one,’ she said, brightly. ‘Hope you didn’t mind me holding your hand then. I just thought if it looked like we were on a date, then he’d be less suspicious.’ Mortified, mortified, OH MY GODS, she thought, madly. He really likes me. What am I doing?

  ‘Oh. Right, yes, of course.’

  ‘I mean, we’re not on a date,’ she added, making it worse.

  ‘Clearly,’ he answered.

  ‘I mean… it’s not really the time to talk about it. The date thing. You asking me out.’ She blundered on, wondering when she’d stop. Not showing any signs yet, she thought. Rambling on really quite badly at this point. Yep. ‘Is it? I mean, we could talk about it. Maybe we should.’

  ‘Maybe not right now.’ Angus gave her a look that implied he thought she was at best batty and at worst, unhinged.

  ‘Right.’ Temerity tried to regain some of her usual composure. ‘Okay. We should find Lady Dalcairney. While Liz is outside. I don’t know where Sally is.’ Temerity pushed her own feelings to one side. She didn’t know if she did have feelings for Angus – sure, he was attractive, if you liked that kind of tall, healthy, Scottish warrior kind of look – Temerity, focus – and anyway, her feelings about Patrick always got in the way when she thought she might be interested in someone. This was the good thing about antiques. They were little mysteries Temerity could solve. People, on the other hand, not so much.

  Also, they were alone in Dalcairney Manor, but it wouldn’t be long before they weren’t.

  ‘I don’t know if I’ve met Sally,’ Angus commented.

  ‘Oh, you’d remember.’ Temerity lowered her voice in case the maid appeared suddenly. ‘She’s… kind of creepy. Wears black. Doesn’t talk. Glares a lot.’

  ‘Well, I can’t imagine being a maid is that much fun,’ Angus shrugged. ‘Let’s focus on Lady Dalcairney, anyway. Where is she likely to be?’

  ‘Upstairs. If Liz comes in while we’re up there, we can say… I don’t know. We heard a cry and we went up to check she was all right.’

  Angus shook his head.

  ‘You’re quite devious, aren’t you?’ he said as he followed Temerity up the imposing staircase.

  ‘I suppose it comes of being a witch,’ Temerity replied archly, glad for a change of subject.

  The whole interior of the house was panelled in dark varnished oak and the staircase had an elaborately carved siding and wide banister. The image of a stag’s head, engraved into the wood, flashed into Temerity’s mind; she turned to Angus, halfway up the stairs, whispering.

  ‘I saw a stag when I first picked up the hand mirror found on Molly Bayliss’s body. We know that it had belonged to Lady Dalcairney. Liz told me that it disappeared on the same day Ben McKinley visited.’

  ‘We can assume he came to request some kind of potion from Lady Dalcairney and stole it when he was here. Why, though?’ Angus whispered back. ‘Maybe he’s into witchcraft.’

  Temerity rolled her eyes and continued walking as quietly as she could up the stairs. ‘Why do you always say that straightaway? Oh, she’s got a broom, she must be a witch. He’s got a cat, he must be a witch. There’s a bit
more to it.’

  ‘He might be, though.’

  ‘I highly doubt he is.’

  ‘Why? You don’t know.’

  ‘I’d know, okay?’ Temerity hissed. ‘I know my own kind. I’ve got radar.’

  ‘Well then, why would Ben McKinley steal the mirror? Doesn’t make any sense. Unless he knew it could be used for some kind of purpose.’

  ‘What purpose?’ Temerity whispered back. ‘If he wanted to kill her, then the poison did the job. What difference does putting a mirror near the body make?’ She frowned and stopped on the stairs.

  ‘What?’

  ‘No, it’s just…’ Temerity broke off as a new thought came to her. Opposite her, on the wall, a full-length mirror in an elaborate gold frame reflected herself back to her.

  ‘What?’

  She turned to him.

  ‘What do mirrors do?’

  Angus gave her another meaningful look.

  ‘Show us our reflections,’ he said, as if he was talking to an idiot.

  ‘Yes. They reflect. But they also deflect. If I shone a torch onto a hand mirror and angled it, the light would go elsewhere. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realise it,’ she mused.

  ‘So?’ Angus was frowning.

  ‘So, a magic mirror – with the glass painted black, like the one found on Molly’s body. One way it could be used is for scrying. Seeing the future and suchlike.’

  ‘She didn’t have much of a future. Minutes, at best, after she ingested the poison,’ Angus said.

  ‘Right. But witches also use mirrors to deflect curses. It’s like psychic self-defence,’ Temerity continued. ‘What if the murderer placed the mirror near the body to put us off the scent? What if that mirror was enchanted to deflect attention away from the killer? Put there to make us think that Molly was caught up in some kind of witchcraft, herself – but instead, what it was actually doing was diverting our gaze from the truth?’

  ‘That would mean that the murderer was a witch. Or knew enough about witchcraft for it not to make much difference,’ Angus replied. ‘That doesn’t leave us with a very wide pool. In fact, it incriminates you and Tilda more than anyone.’