by Adam Carter
“I found some digestives in the cupboard as well,” Lin said, handing over a small plate with a few biscuits scattered across it.
“Walter hates biscuits,” Agnes said. “Can’t abide them in the house, as though they’re plagued or something.”
“Oh. They were pretty easy to find, I didn’t have to go digging or anything.”
“Why hide them? Chamberlain’s only knowledge of tha kitchen is that it’s tha only route to tha bathroom.”
Lin smiled. Sipped her tea. “You didn’t much like him did you?”
“Past tense?”
“Slip of the tongue.”
Agnes sighed. “He’s dead. Isn’t he?”
Lin did not react, but that was enough for Agnes to understand.
“Ah hated him,” Agnes said, shivering, and it was nothing to do with the cold. “He saw me as a piece of dirt, you know what tha’s like? He was some rich upper class English pig, and he thought ah should be praising the Lord if ah got to wipe his backside. Which,” she added at Lin’s expression, “ah didn’t, by the way.”
Her fire was returning. It wasn’t anger any more, just a natural fierceness. Lin found herself growing to like this woman, and fought for how she should best phrase her questions. “Why did you stay?” she asked at last. It wasn’t a question to which she needed to know the answer, but it was still relevant.
“Money,” Agnes asked with an expression that told Lin she was asking stupid questions. “Why else would anyone stay with that creature? Ah was being paid more ta look after Walter for a month than ah could ever make at the agency.”
“You model?”
Agnes laughed. “Office temp. Ach, you really are trying to be nice to me now.”
Lin had met a lot of pretty girls in her line of work. Most of them were crying their eyes out because of whatever had just happened to them, some were sleeping off a night of binge drinking in the cells, and she tried to picture Agnes doing either. She didn’t seem the type to cry; more likely she’d be getting even herself rather than go to the police. And the latter? Well, she seemed a tad too sensible.
“I spoke with Dave,” Lin said, and noticed several emotions flash across Agnes’s face. First there was anger that Dave should be talking about her at all, then affection that he should be talking about her at all, then embarrassment that she should have been thinking either. All three filled the space of a second. “He was worried about you,” Lin said. “Because of the storm, and because of Chamberlain.”
“Dave has a good job,” Agnes said. “If he didn’t, ah’m sure he’d a taken this opportunity as well.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
Agnes fixed her with a sour expression. “If ya want me to answer questions then just ask away. You don’t have ta mould me first.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re a cop, aren’t you?”
“That obvious?”
Agnes shrugged. “If someone’s askin’ questions about Chamberlain dying, it’d probably be a cop.”
“Shrewd. Did you see anything suspicious last night?”
Agnes shook her head. “Nope. I went ta bed and woke up when you came in.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate. She had woken up after Lin had spent ages trying to rouse her, but there was no point in going through all of that.
“How’d he die?” Agnes asked.
Lin did not know, but she had already guessed the most likely cause. “Fell off a cliff.”
“Well, it was a bad storm an’ all.”
“Did you push him?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“No. It was a bad storm. Maybe he was trying to conquer God or something.”
Agnes smiled. “Aye. That sounds like Walter.”
Now the pointless questions were out the way, Lin carefully phrased her actual ones. “Do you remember anything else of last night? What time did Walter leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you do anything before going to bed?”
“Like what?”
Lin shrugged. “Read? Brush your teeth? Fill a bottle with water?”
“Cocoa. I always have cocoa before ah go to bed.” Agnes stopped there, frowning.
Lin allowed the moment to drift before saying, “You don’t remember having cocoa last night do you?”
“I ...” She looked directly at the detective then. “There was someone here. A man. I ... A guy in a suit.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t remember.”
That was something at least. “Did he talk to Chamberlain?”
“He ... It was really funny, but ah can’t remember what he ...” Her eyes widened. “He told Walter to go walk off the cliff. Ah’m sure he did. Whispered it. Whispered it like a dirty secret between lovers.”
That was neither what Lin was expecting nor wanting. Obviously Agnes’s memories were somewhat warped. Baronaire was an oddball but even he couldn’t just order someone to walk off a cliff and have them do it. But Lin could see Agnes was nervous now, afraid. She was scratching at her wrists beneath the duvet and Lin took it as an excellent cue. “Can I see your injuries?”
“Injuries? I’m not injured.”
“Your arm?”
Agnes stopped scratching, suddenly aware that she was. There was a pleading to her eyes Lin wasn’t even certain the girl was aware was there, but it was gone in an instant. The human mind was a strange thing, and Lin could sense there was a part of Agnes McBright which wanted Lin to know something; something maybe even Agnes herself didn’t or couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps there was something her mind had chosen to block out. A bad memory she would prefer to be able to forget.
Slowly Lin reached forward and drew the young woman’s arm from beneath the folds of the duvet. There were terrible scratch marks down her lower arm, but those were all self-inflicted. At the wrist, however, were two tiny punctures, as though someone had pressed a stapler through her veins.
“What happened to me?” Agnes asked in a small voice, but Lin had no answer for her.
Holding the girl’s hand between her own, Lin looked Agnes in the eyes and said, “I need to get you to a hospital. You’re cold, you’re pale, and I think you have memory loss. Maybe Chamberlain attacked you, maybe you fought him off. Maybe a stranger appeared and they fought, and Chamberlain ran out into the storm to get away. Lost out there, he would have easily fallen to his death.” It was a horrible thing to do to the girl, but Lin needed Agnes’s fragile mind to accept some possible truths. If she told the police everything she had just told Lin, a manhunt would ensue and Baronaire would eventually be caught. At least this way Chamberlain’s death was still a suicide and the investigation could be closed.
Agnes nodded slowly, looking away.
“Good girl. I ...” Lin stopped, for in the doorway leading to the kitchen stood a shadow; a man garbed in darkness and trying to get her attention. “I’ll go make the call,” she told Agnes and moved nonchalantly for the kitchen.
Baronaire grabbed her by the arm and half-dragged her through the kitchen.
Lin shook him off savagely. “What?”
“What, what?”
“What are you doing here and what did you do to that poor girl?”
“The police are on their way. We have to move.”
“I have to get her an ambulance.”
“The police can do that.”
“We are the police, damn it.”
A knock sounded then upon the front door and Lin’s heart skipped a beat.
“They’re here,” Baronaire said, grabbing her again and brooking no argument. He tore through the kitchen and out the back door. Thankfully there were no officers covering the exit and they ran for several minutes, using the jagged rocky terrain as cover. Finally they dropped behind some rocks and Baronaire cast a glance back over to the house. “They didn’t follow. Chances are they didn’t see us then. With any luck the girl will think you were a figment. Maybe the police will buy that too.”<
br />
“What did you do to her?”
“Damn it, Lin, this is serious! If either of us gets linked to this Sanders will do his nut!”
Lin folded her arms. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?”
Baronaire scowled, but she raised her eyebrows and finally he realised he would not win this contest of wills and so collapsed against a rock, disheartened. “I didn’t do anything to her,” he said. “She was like that when I got there. Chamberlain must have done something, I don’t know. I saw her lying in the bed, so pale ... I figured she was dead, that Chamberlain had killed her. So I took him out and threw him into the sea. Figured it sat better with us because the law would think he murdered the girl, then killed himself. Grew a conscience or something. I don’t know. I guess I should have checked the girl, but she looked dead to me so I didn’t think I needed to.”
It was a plausible explanation. It certainly was not what Lin had been expecting, but then she had no idea what she had been expecting. It was very tidy, very acceptable. But it wasn’t the truth. Lin had been lied to many times in her life, and she knew when someone was lying. Baronaire may have been putting on a good act, but he was lying through his eyeteeth.
Still, there was no reason to let him know that.
“So what did happen to her?” she asked at last.
Baronaire shrugged. “You know more than I do. Did she tell you anything?”
“Nothing. Whatever she went through, she’s blocked it.”
“Shame.”
Lin did not tell him Agnes had seen Baronaire there last night. For the sake of the mission she should have, but for the sake of the girl she kept silent. “We should head back to the hotel,” she said. “Meet up with Foster.”
“And leave this place as quickly as possible.”
“And that won’t look suspicious? No, we’ve paid up ‘til tomorrow. We check out tomorrow morning, as planned.”
“Great. So in the meantime we just maintain a low profile?”
“You do whatever you want, Baronaire. I’m going to find out what I can from the hospital about Agnes. I want to know what happened to her last night.”
“Sanders won’t like you interfering.”
“Sanders doesn’t have to know.”
Baronaire said nothing and they started back for the hotel. Lin knew Baronaire would do everything he could to block her investigation, but Lin had a secret weapon Baronaire would not count on. A weapon so powerful even the mighty Baronaire would quail before it. Lin smiled to herself as she considered the best way to deploy it. For once unleashed, there was no stopping it.
*
“Run that by me again.”
Detective Sharon Foster had not much liked Lin when the two women had first met. Lin had been new to the team, but seemed to be one of those people who thought she was already in charge. She had an authoritative air to her and Sanders seemed to like her, which were two further reasons for Foster to despise her. And then Lin had been paired with Baronaire, her Baronaire, and a red haze had fired up before Foster’s eyes. They were in her hotel room now, just the two of them, and Lin had said something which suddenly made Foster like the woman a whole lot more.
“Baronaire’s a little uptight,” Lin repeated. “His dog died before we came up here, and he was really fond of that dog.”
“I never even knew he had a dog.”
“He didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t like people to know he cared about anything other than the job. I only found out because Sanders asked me to keep an eye on him. But ... well, Baronaire’s really distraught, he’s not himself. He needs some major cheering up today, and since we’ve got a whole day where we don’t have to actually do anything, I figured you’d like the job. You’d be much better at it than me, and he is your man right?”
Foster grinned from ear to ear. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’ll show him a good time today, make him forget all about his poor little pooch. What was the dog’s name?”
“I don’t know, and please don’t ask. I ... I think he’d clam up if he knew we knew about his problems. Sanders only told me because he was worried.” She whispered, “We’re not supposed to know.”
“You can count on me,” Foster said enthusiastically. “By the end of the day Charles will have forgotten all about his poor dog.”
“Just don’t let him out of your sight, Shaz.”
“Leave it with me.”
Lin had departed then, going on about what business she had. Foster did not spare Lin a second thought. Whatever Lin did, so long as she did it far away from her and Baronaire Foster didn’t much care what it was.
She found Baronaire in the bar. He didn’t have a drink in front of him, which was something of a crime if he was in the bar; instead he seemed to be chatting to one of the staff. Foster stopped, watching him. She had never seen him chat to anyone before, but he was making a good show of it now. The guy behind the bar was about twenty, good looking and happy to talk. A sudden sinking feeling churned Foster’s stomach as she contemplated Baronaire’s intentions. Perhaps there was a good reason she and he had never actually hit it off. Perhaps she simply wasn’t his type.
She watched a while longer before sucking up her gut and deciding if she was going to learn anything she would have to just go in there and see for herself. The guy behind the bar noticed her first and smiled her way. Baronaire seemed as though he was trying to back away out the door.
“Charles!” Foster said, studiously ignoring the barman. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Hmm?”
He offered her a somewhat distant smile. “Sorry, I’m in something of a rush. Where’s Lin?”
“In her room, having a lie down. Want to buy me a drink?”
“No.”
“Gin and tonic,” she told the barman.
“Uh,” Baronaire said, “it’s three in the afternoon, Foster.”
“Sure, I do have a watch, Charles.” The barman brought the drink over and Foster raised her eyebrows at her companion. Baronaire stared at her for some moments, then pulled out his wallet. “Thanks,” she smiled. “Do you know,” she said absently to the barman, “this is one of those rare occasions Charles has bought me a drink. Can you believe that?”
The barman didn’t seem to know what to say.
“We haven’t even been on a date since last year,” she said, leaning over the bar as though to divulge this fact quietly. “Can you believe that?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Baronaire said. “We’ve never been on a date, we just went out because you did me a favour and I ...”
“He even watched the film, what a gentleman.”
“I am not a gentleman.”
“Modest too. So, Mister Barman, what’s your angle in all of this?” She spoke very jovially, as though they had all been friends for many years. “You quizzing my man about something?”
“Foster,” Baronaire cut in, “I was asking Mister Henderson what he knew about ...”
“Mister Henderson,” Foster said accusatorially. “That’s not very Scottish.”
“Dave,” the barman said. “And to be honest you two are really starting to freak me out.” He looked directly to Baronaire and said, “I don’t know anything about Chamberlain. Really. And just as soon as ah can close up tha bar ah’m going over to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Foster asked.
“Call just came through,” Baronaire said. “There’s a house at the top of the cliffs. Bad storm last night. One man dead, a woman in the hospital. Suspected shock.”
Foster did not have any idea how shock could be suspected. Surely it was possible for even a layman to diagnose shock. Still, she knew the house was their assignment and did not want to draw attention to the fact that Baronaire had been the one to have committed the killing. “You should go,” she told Dave the barman.
“Ah would do if people would let me.”
Foster finished her drink and took Baronaire by the arm, leading him away from the
bar with a parting wave at Dave. “You can buy me lunch if you like, Charles.”
“I don’t have time for this, Foster. I need to ...”
“Pish! There’s always time for lunch. Besides, we haven’t seen much of the town. Everyone’s going to think we’re recluses, that we came here with sinister purposes.”
“No one cares what we’re doing here, no one even knows we’re here. And I really do have things to do.”
“Do them later.” They had left the hotel by this point. The town was only a ten minute walk and they had set out upon it before Baronaire could say words to the contrary. “Besides,” she added, “you wouldn’t want me going out by myself. I might get into trouble, say things I shouldn’t to complete strangers. Then you would have some work to do, cleaning up my mess.”
“Foster, are you feeling all right?”
“Never better, sweetie,” she said with a wink. “Just come with me and we’ll have a grand old time.”
Baronaire was still protesting, but there was nothing he could do to stop her. If there was one skill Sharon Foster had perfected in her early childhood it was to always get what she wanted. And she accomplished this mainly by never allowing anyone else to get a word in edgewise.
Charles Baronaire had never stood a chance.
CHAPTER SIX
The cup of coffee sat untouched. There had been a lot of coffee and Detective Catherine Laidlaw felt if she had just one more she’d be peeing caffeine for a week. The town in which she lived was quiet most of the time. There were drunks to be moved along on a Friday and Saturday night, but what town didn’t have that sort of trouble? There were burglaries, but to be honest there weren’t even many of those. They had a flasher about six months back, and that had made the local papers purely because it had given them something to report. They were far enough from the big cities not to have much crime to care about, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. Still, there hadn’t been a murder in over a year, and Laidlaw had on this occasion been unlucky enough to be on shift when this one came up.