‘Minerva.’ I savoured the spicy drink as I pondered the question. ‘They seem clever. I need to question them further, but I can tell you that the mother looked rather nervous, more so than Mr Koloman, even though I practically accused him directly at one point.’
‘The missus cannae be too happy with these events. The frolics of her brother-in-law are taking a bloody good chunk from her children’s inheritance.’ McGray downed the drink in one go, but rather than pour another measure he took a swig straight from the decanter. ‘Did ye meet the idiotic constable?’
I told him all about that meeting, and we agreed the man must be dismissed. Having covered all the aspects of Benjamin’s case, I thought of the other matter that had brought us here. I stared into my drink for a moment, unsure whether I should ask this. ‘How did you find your sister?’
McGray hissed, turned and went to the window that overlooked the loch. ‘I only saw her for a minute. She was doing very well . . . up until I came round.’
‘I am sorry,’ I said.
McGray stared out at the tranquil waters. The sky had begun to show the shades of the night. ‘Did ye go to the wee island?’
‘I did, and I saw the well. I also saw the ruinous little hovel where the man lives, but we are not to disturb him without his family’s consent. They all live on that big island. Apparendy they manufacture gin but barely make ends meet.’
And ye talked to Madame Katerina?’
I blew inside my cheeks, recalling that nasty Sunday morning in the gypsy’s divination room. I’d caught the woman freshly out of bed (most likely after a night of heavy drinking at her side brewery) and I still flinched at the memory. ‘I wish you had not sent me to her. She is as crazy as ever.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘She knew a good deal about the loch and its islands, as you expected. She told me about that ancient saint. He had an impossible name . . .’
‘Maelrubha.’
‘Correct. I looked into your books and found that some Scots call him St Rufus. I shall use that name, if you do not mind.’
‘Go on.’
‘St Rufus founded a little chapel on that island, back when the early Christians were attempting to convert the Celts. Apparently he dug the well – it is a nondescript hole in the ground, with some stones around it. It is possible that he made up the legend about the waters.’
‘Dammit, I told ye to be less Frey-like when ye looked into this! It’s my sister who’s at stake here.’
‘Yes, and I was! But even your beloved gypsy clairvoyant is of that opinion. Now, here is the disturbing part. . .’
‘Disturbing?’
‘Yes. Katerina says St Rufus probably fabricated that tale to discourage the more . . . savage practices of the Druids. Apparently the Celts were convinced that the island was sacred and that people could be cured there, but not with water from a well.’
I had McGray’s undivided attention. ‘Tell me.’
I went to the east window and looked out at the dim stars that had only just begun to appear. The shadows in between the islands’ trees looked much darker now, and I imagined the horrid happenings that those woods might have witnessed. ‘In their rituals the Druids sacrificed bulls . . . and then bathed people in their blood.’
I felt a sudden chill as I turned back to Nine-Nails. It could have been a draught coming through the windows, or the disquieting expression in McGray’s eyes, which seemed to twinkle in the growing darkness.
He whispered, ‘Does it work?’
‘Drinking the waters or bathing in blood?’
‘Either!’
I snorted. ‘Katerina has heard of many people coming here and drinking from the well. Some even do this stupid ritual of sailing three times around the island. Katerina has never heard of it working for anybody.’
‘And the ritual with the blood?’
I shook my head. ‘You are not thinking of taking your sister there and . . . well, doing that, are you?’
‘Answer the sodding question, Frey.’
I had no choice but to tell him exactly what the gypsy had said.
‘She has not heard of the ritual being attempted – not in living memory at least.’ I saw the twinkle again in McGray’s eyes and rushed to go on. ‘Before you get any twisted ideas, Miss Fletcher says it is the waters that cured Mr Nellys. The waters that not even your clairvoyant believes might work.’
McGray sighed deeply. ‘I’ll go there tomorrow.’
‘What about Benjamin?’
‘Ye can keep an eye on him while I do what I need to.’
‘You are not intending to drop the case now because of those cretinous legends, are you?’
‘O’ course nae, Percy! I saw that poor auld priest die. And how that affected the laddie. I ken he’s in dangerous territory.’
‘Yet you are the one who brought him here. Even if I had insisted otherwise, I know you are so bloody stubborn you would not have –’
‘Aye, aye, save yer fucking claret breath. I hate the shite- sniffing face ye pull when yer preaching. I did bring him here. Ye might nae believe it but I do feel it’s my responsibility to make sure the laddie –’
A tap at the door interrupted him. It was Uncle Maurice.
‘Ian, Mr Koloman sent me in case you two were discussing delicate matters. Dinner is ready. Mrs Koloman says she hopes you both have an appetite.’
McGray looked forlornly at the loch one last time, gathering his strength. ‘As long as they’re nae serving salted fucking herring!’
12
The main drawing room looked like a Christmas scene. The large trunk I’d seen Calcraft bring in was at the centre of the room, and there were smaller boxes and shreds of wrapping paper scattered all around. Everybody was laughing and cheering.
Veronika and her mother sat on cushions on the floor surrounded by fine materials, bobbins of lace and books of patterns. Uncle Maurice stood by them, a hand on his hip and in the other a glass of wine.
‘La Mode Illustrée,’ he said. ‘I did not think you followed their guidelines, Miss Veronika.’
‘But I do,’ answered Mrs Koloman. ‘And Veronika likes to read it to mock me.’
‘Mama, I would never!’ the girl said jokingly, her smiles always directed at my uncle.
‘Inspectors!’ said Mr Koloman, all welcoming. ‘Do join us. My dear son likes to spoil us with presents whenever he visits home.’
We followed him in and he put glasses of wine in our hands before we could object.
Dominik was pacing around, drinking liberally from his glass, but the wine did not seem to affect him at all – not yet, at least. He gave us a rather petulant nod.
Natalja was seated in one of the armchairs, opening a small parcel cushioned with straw. She pulled out a bell glass set on a mahogany base. Inside there was a perfect prism like those she used in the Shadows Room. I have seen less excitement in girls presented with diamonds – my former fiancée included.
‘A sodium chloride prism!’ she cried.
‘Of course, Nat! This chap in Norway made it for me. It cost me a bloody fortune.’
Natalja jumped from her seat and hugged her brother. Dominik stumbled and spilled some of his wine on the rugs.
‘You must keep it under the glass lid whenever you’re not using it,’ Dominik warned, half choked by his sister.
‘Because of the humidity?’ asked Mr Koloman, and his son assented.
Natalja hugged the container. ‘I will try it now.’
Her mother rose and tugged at her arm. ‘Tomorrow, Natalja. We have visitors tonight.’
The girl twisted her mouth, her reproachful stare directed at McGray and me, and I understood her frustration – finding herself perhaps at the brink of a scientific discovery yet being told she must attend some unwanted guests.
I suddenly realized something, and so did McGray.
‘Where’s Benjamin?’ he asked.
‘Changing and refreshing,’ said Mr Koloman. He saw ou
r instant alarm. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Inspectors. Boyde and Calcraft are with him.’
The young man who stank of chemicals and Dominik’s devious-looking sailor . . . I nearly spat out my wine, and McGray and I were about to storm out of the room, but the doors opened right then.
Benjamin himself came in, wearing a black suit and looking quite uncomfortable in it. The trousers and sleeves were a little short for him, but his burgundy ascot tie had been done in a perfect knot.
He was still nervous, and the compliments from Dominik and Mrs Koloman seemed only to increase his stress. It was Natalja who broke his rigidity, if only partially. She took him by the arm and showed him around the bookshelves. After a moment we even heard his very shy laugh.
Mr Koloman approached me while his wife and other daughter resumed the unwrapping. Dominik had just presented Veronika with a collection of German books.
‘We are a tightly knit family, as you can see,’ he said proudly and then grasped my forearm. ‘We will take good care of the boy. I swear.’
He clinked our glasses and I had to take a sip out of good manners, only the blasted wine was so delectable I could not help rolling it around in my mouth (and I can imagine the sort of face I must have been pulling).
Mr Koloman smiled at my reluctant appreciation. ‘I hope you find our table as impressive as you do our cellars. Have you ever tasted kid’s meat?’
‘I – I beg your pardon?’
He laughed. ‘By kid I mean a young goat, Inspector. We do not kill younglings here, I can assure you!’
The meat fell off the bone, as soft as butter and so juicy it melted in the mouth. They’d marinated the tiny joints in spices and wine, and roasted them to perfection. And the excellent wine was a heavenly match: I’d had two glasses already and was tempted to ask for a third.
McGray too was delighted, devouring the meat and the roast potatoes with remarkable gusto. From time to time I winced at the loud squelching, but none of the Kolomans seemed to care and Uncle’s attention was far more pleasantly engaged.
‘I do feel sorry for eating the darling things,’ said Veronika, who had rushed to sit next to Maurice. ‘I wish they weren’t so delicious.’
Uncle whispered something in her ear, and they exchanged a complicit look.
‘They would die anyway,’ said Dominik in a monotone.
‘How so?’ Uncle asked.
‘They come from Juniper Island,’ Mr Koloman answered, and I instantly looked up. I had seen a goat there . . . and I still believed I’d seen a bat fluttering around. ‘The Nellyses keep goats and make some wonderful cheeses,’ Konrad went on. ‘We will offer you some for dessert. The female kids are kept for more milk, of course, but the males have no use. If we didn’t buy them for meat, the Nellyses would have to sacrifice them.’
‘I need to talk to that family,’ said McGray, his mouth full. ‘What can youse tell me about them? This miraculous cure?’
There was palpable tension in the room. The twins rushed to put food in their mouths, Dominik pretended to wipe his lips far too thoroughly, and Mr Koloman turned to Boyde to have his glass refilled.
It was Mrs Koloman who spoke, though she looked grim. ‘I meet them regularly. Mr Nellys is very frail these days.’
‘Have ye seen him improve?’ McGray prompted.
Mrs Koloman took a moment to answer. ‘His mind certainly has, and I cannot explain it. He used to have horrid hallucinations about monsters and diseases corroding his insides, but he hasn’t had a single episode in years . . . apparently ever since his family brought him here.’
She looked down, moving the food around her plate, suddenly unable to take another mouthful.
‘Then why d’ye look so gloomy?’ McGray asked.
‘His mind may have improved; his body, on the other hand . . . It is so sad.’ She breathed deeply. ‘I’ll see that Millie takes you there tomorrow morning, if you please.’
‘I was told you have medical training, madam,’ I said.
‘You heard well, Inspector. I help whenever I can. I aid pretty much everyone in the vicinity, if it is in my hands.’
‘But you spend far too much time with the Nellyses,’ said Dominik, a clear reproach.
‘His wife gets weaker every day, Dominik,’ his mother said promptly. ‘She has a very hard life, looking after the goats, and making their gin and their cheese.’
‘Don’t they have any children?’ McGray asked.
‘Yes, a grown son and a younger daughter. She must be around Benjamin’s age.’ Mrs Koloman smiled at her nephew, who simply shifted uncomfortably on his seat. She picked up her wine, looking sombre. ‘I’m afraid they’ll end up just like their parents, broken by the work and the elements.’
‘Wasting their lives away only to look after that sickly old man,’ Dominik grumbled. ‘The entire family devoted to bringing him back from madness – what a bunch of deluded fools.’
McGray clenched his fists around his cutlery so hard I thought he’d bend the silver.
‘He was losing his mind, getting worse and worse,’ Mrs Koloman told him. ‘They couldn’t just let him fade away in a lunatics’ asylum.’
Benjamin was the only one who seemed to notice McGray’s tense jaw. I realized the twins and Mr Koloman had remained deliberately silent.
‘This obsession with looking after the sick and infirm,’ Dominik said after clicking his tongue. He looked at Veronika. ‘I brought you a new book by this German chap, Nietzsche. He has some compelling ideas on the matter.’
I opened my mouth to speak but McGray kicked me under the table. His gesture was clear enough: we would not take part in their debate. We would let it unfold naturally.
‘Oh, Dominik, you know I don’t like those German philosophers,’ said Mrs Koloman, somewhat echoing what her daughter had said in the Shadows Room.
‘But think about it, Mama,’ Dominik pressed, leaning forward. ‘The Romans and the ancient Greeks valued strength, beauty, health. Common sense would tell you one should aspire to those virtues, but instead we are moral, compassionate.’
Benjamin opened his mouth, but his cousin continued. ‘The poor, the weak, the illiterate, they of course have resented their masters from the beginning of time, and they made up this silly fantasy of an afterlife reward to console themselves.’
Benjamin hesitated for a second longer, and Mrs Koloman intervened, not even seeing that her nephew wanted to speak. ‘Those are very dangerous ideas, and I think it’s wrong to publish them so carelessly. If that sort of book were to fall in the wrong hands . . . I can see it inspiring wars, massacres –’
Dominik and the twins all interjected, but then Mr Koloman raised a hand and there was instant silence. He smiled at his nephew. ‘Benjamin, you seem to have something to say. Go ahead.’
All eyes turned to the boy, who blushed and slowly put his cutlery down (he’d barely touched his food and wine). ‘Does this man Niet–’
‘Nietzsche,’ Dominik said. ‘That’s German.’
I saw the tendons in Benjamin’s neck pop out when his cousin winked at him. ‘Does he discuss the origin of that resentment?’
Dominik sat back, looking utterly amused, and swirled the wine in his glass. ‘What do you mean – cousin?’
‘That resentment exists only because some masters like to crush and humiliate their servants. That is an animal vice: enjoying the suffering of the defenceless, enjoying pinning them down and subjugating them.’
Benjamin’s hands were shaking, and for the first time he lifted his glass and took a long drink. ‘In fact, I take that back. Even animals don’t torment each other just for pleasure . . . like some high-born men who torture unprotected women.’
Mrs Koloman let out a soft gasp, but that was the only sound that followed.
So Benjamin knew. He knew everything about his father’s sins. Whether the priest had told him or the boy had deduced it all by himself, I could not tell. Did he also know already that his mother was Miss Fletcher?
&nb
sp; Benjamin gulped down more wine, and it was as if the kick of the drink brought out the best in him. ‘Also, what does this Nietzsche call weak? Does he provide a good definition? After all, the weak Jews managed to free themselves from Egypt. The weak French servants managed to crush their filthy aristocrats. I think the masters are only strong for as long as the so-called weak ones allow it.’
A deep hush fell on the room, and when Benjamin put his glass down it made a loud thud. ‘May I be excused?’
He left the room at once, before anyone could reply. So much for the meek boy the Kolomans might have expected.
13
McGray found Benjamin at the foot of the staircase, covering his face with his clenched fists. It looked like the situation had finally overwhelmed him.
‘Ye all right, laddie?’ The boy could not reply, so McGray simply patted him on the back. ‘It’s all right. Give yerself some time.’ He let the boy be for a moment, before whispering, ‘What were ye trying to tell yer cousin? Did Father Thomas tell ye that yer mum –’
‘Was abused by my father?’ Benjamin barked. ‘Of course he did. He also said she might still live around this loch; he told me to keep my eyes open.’
McGray nodded. So the priest had managed to keep his word and yet plant doubt in Benjamin’s mind.
Should he tell Benjamin that his mother was still a servant in that house? Would that be completely out of place?
Fortunately, the answer showed itself. He saw someone stirring in the shadows: Miss Fletcher. She started, and squeezed the two light shawls she had in her hands. McGray raised his hand, bidding her to come closer. This was a good time; she might give her son some comfort.
Miss Fletcher lost all colour. She took a step forward, looking at her son with so much affection it was painful to behold. But then, just before Benjamin lifted his face, she faltered and hurried into the dining room, moving as silently as a ghost.
McGray shook his head, but he knew this was something he couldn’t force.
‘I’m going to my room,’ said Benjamin, too drained to speak further.
Loch of the Dead Page 10