Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  ‘If you don’t want to walk back,’ said Miss Fletcher, ‘I am sure Mr Dailey, the innkeeper, can lend us one of his boats.’

  ‘He will lend us one, lass. After I’ve talked to him I want ye to take me to the islands, as we had agreed before the death.’

  Miss Fletcher’s lips parted but she didn’t say a word; she simply nodded.

  McGray turned to the building, its grey stones a perfect match to the surrounding fog. ‘So Queen Vicky stayed here?’

  Aye, she did!’ said a man’s coarse voice. McGray saw the milky silhouette of a broad-shouldered, broad-bellied man with a bushy moustache. ‘Twelve years ago. The wretched woman was wider than she was tall. And miserable. She was here for twelve days but spent nine locked in her room with a “headache” – that wee window over there.’ The man offered a hand to shake. ‘George Dailey, at yer service. Millie, is this the policeman who wanted to talk to the Nellyses?’

  ‘Aye, that’s me,’ said McGray. ‘But before that I need to talk to ye and everyone else in yer inn. Constable McEwan is dead.’

  Mr Dailey at once staggered, went pale and dropped the sack of spuds he was carrying. ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been told I can be blunt sometimes.’

  ‘Are ye sure? There must be a mistake. I thought he’d still be in his room!’

  Miss Fletcher picked up the bag for him. ‘The inspector is telling the truth. I found him myself. There’s no doubt.’

  Mr Dailey took a few panting breaths. ‘My, my! I saw him just last night; his horse is still in the stables. How . . . how did it–’

  ‘D’ye mind if I look at his room right away? The lass here can tell ye all the details in the meantime.’

  Miss Fletcher winced, perhaps at the memory of the dead body, perhaps because of something else.

  ‘O-of course!’ said Mr Dailey. ‘Do come in.’

  He led McGray and Miss Fletcher to a large dining room, where his wife was setting the tables for breakfast. Her husband whispered in her ear and the woman dropped the cutlery she’d been handling.

  ‘Can I look at the room now?’ McGray asked. ‘That’ll give youse a moment to take it in.’

  ‘Och, I don’t need a moment,’ said the woman. ‘The lad was a useless pile o’ dung. But for my life, no such thing had ever happened here in living memory!’

  ‘D’ye have the keys to his room?’ McGray insisted. ‘I’m in a wee bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Our guests rarely lock their doors; there is hardly a soul in the vicinity. But here’s the master key, just in case he did. It’s the second door on the left.’

  Mrs Dailey looked up. ‘I don’t think ye’ll find much. The constable just went up there for a nap right after dinner.’

  McGray simply thanked them with a nod and went upstairs. Contrary to Mr Dailey’s expectation, McEwan’s door was locked. McGray turned the key and entered a generous, very clean room. The window overlooked not the lake but the road. McEwan would have been able to see anybody coming and going. However, there were scant signs of the room having been occupied: the bed was still made, with faint marks on the linen, where McEwan had lain. A chair had been pulled towards the window and there were some ashes on the sill

  ‘So ye were having a wee smoke, looking out,’ McGray mumbled to himself.

  That was all he found. McEwan had not even carried any luggage, which was to be expected; the man had not intended to spend the night there when he first set out from Poolewe.

  McGray went back to the dining room and found the Daileys and Miss Fletcher breaking bread and sharing a large pot of tea. He had a cup himself and listened to their remarks on the death before asking his questions. ‘Can youse tell me what McEwan was up to while he was here? Everything. Doesnae matter how trivial.’

  Man and wife looked at each other, a little tense. It was she who spoke. ‘He did very little, really. He gobbled up his dinner – two servings of my stew – drank a few pints, then went upstairs for a nap.’

  Mr Dailey joined in. ‘He told us not to disappear, cause he’d need more beer after his sleep. After an hour or so he came downstairs, but he wouldnae drink straight away. He . . . did something very odd.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Aye. He went outside to smoke. Can ye believe it?’

  McGray frowned deeply. ‘He went outside to smoke? Why on earth would anyone do that?’

  ‘We found it very strange too, but that’s what he did. He stayed out there for a while ‘n’ then came back in demanding a pint.’

  ‘How long was a while?’ McGray asked.

  ‘Oh, dunno, sir. Ten, fifteen minutes?’

  ‘What did McEwan do after that?’

  Mrs Dailey shrugged. ‘Just drank. Spilled quite a bit on himself – and then went out without saying a word. He seemed in a hurry.’

  Mr Dailey shook his head. ‘I remember we joked he needed to kick up a stink.’

  McGray half smiled.

  Then Mrs Dailey opened her eyes wide. ‘Oh, and I did see him then, through the kitchen’s window – I was doing the last dishes o’ the day. He took the footpath that goes into the woods.’ She pointed west, in the direction of the Kolomans’ manor. ‘I lost sight o’ him when he went into the forest. I remember he was smoking; the light o’ his cigar was the last of him I saw.’

  ‘What time was this?’ McGray asked.

  ‘Oh, that I remember,’ said the woman. ‘It must have been a quarter past nine. I checked the clock after I did the dishes.’

  McGray sat back, interlacing his fingers. ‘From what we’ve gathered, the murder must’ve happened merely minutes after that.’

  Mrs Dailey put a hand to her chest.

  ‘We heard nothing,’ Mr Dailey said immediately, ‘and we went to bed soon after. As I told ye, we thought he’d come back late ‘n’ was still in his room. Ye and yer English colleague were s’posed to meet him here today.’

  McGray pondered for a moment. Why would McEwan go out to smoke if he’d been doing so in his room? Had he been waiting for someone? If so, he had probably gone out to meet that person. His killer, perhaps?

  ‘Do youse have any other guests?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Mrs Dailey. ‘It’s been awfully quiet this past fortnight.’

  McGray nodded. ‘Thanks, youse have been very helpful. All I’ve left to do is go to that island. The boat –’

  Miss Fletcher rose. ‘I’il go and get it ready, sir.’ She bowed and left, looking rather nervous. Perhaps she feared what McGray might ask her whilst they were alone in the boat.

  Mr and Mrs Dailey also excused themselves and went to the back rooms, leaving McGray momentarily alone.

  He went to the large bay window and saw Miss Fletcher walk to the inn’s small piers, where a few boats, surely for guests, swayed gently. He looked up and let out a sigh at the mesmerizing landscape. The islands’ pine trees, tall and straight above the mist, suddenly looked like the bars of a cage full of secrets.

  19

  I rose naturally a few minutes before nine o’clock. I had slept for only about three hours but I felt a new man, and quite hungry. Instead of ringing the bell I decided to wash, dress and go downstairs directly. I already had a plan of action.

  The first thing I did was check on Benjamin. Unlike McGray, I was not happy merely hearing his voice; I wanted to see him.

  As soon as he opened the door I realized the boy had not rested at all. His eyes were reddened, as if he’d cried most of the night, and his skin looked pale and dry.

  His small oil lamp was still by the windowsill, and next to it I saw a big book. I noticed a corner of its leather cover was slightly scorched, and I pictured Benjamin trying to read with shaking hands, so nervous he’d not noticed the tome was singeing.

  Is everything all right?’ I asked him.

  He shook his head shyly, barely meeting my eyes. ‘I . . . I heard a lot of rattle last night, sir. Something bad happened?’

  I felt so sorry to break yet more bad news to him, b
ut it had to be done. And I could not think of a soft way to put it.

  ‘I am afraid so. The local constable has been murdered.’

  Benjamin sat on the edge of the bed, folded his long hands together and looked at me with a very puzzling face. His frown deepened a little, but I could not tell what his actual sentiment was. Shock, perhaps.

  ‘It happened last night,’ I added, since he remained silent. ‘While your twin cousins were outside and the rest of us . . .’

  Something struck me then.

  Benjamin had not been accounted for either. He’d been locked in this room – allegedly. He’d had the keys and would have been able to go out if he wished. The bed sheets were a tangle, suggesting he’d spent hours tossing and turning, but it would take seconds to mess a few layers of linen. He did not look at all like a murderer, but in my experience that meant nothing.

  ‘. . . the rest of us were here in the house,’ I went on, concealing my sudden suspicions for the time being.

  Benjamin lowered his face and stared hard at his hands. ‘Was that the constable who refused to investigate the threat against me? The one who also refused to help my mother years ago?’

  So McGray had told him absolutely everything.

  ‘Yes. Constable McEwan.’

  After another moment of silence he asked, ‘Do you think he found out something about that threat? Something that put him in danger?’

  ‘I have thought of that, but recalling the man’s unmitigated apathy I find it extremely unlikely.’ I saw him twist his mouth, unconvinced. ‘We will be investigating, and my good uncle is on his way to Kin . . . Kinloo . . .’

  ‘Kinlochewe.’

  ‘Yes, to send a telegram calling for reinforcements. As soon as they arrive I will suggest you leave the manor, given the circumstances, until we shed light on these deaths.’

  Benjamin rubbed his face, trying to fend off tears. ‘What do you want me to do in the meantime? Should I stay here, locked up all day?’

  I sighed. ‘I know it is difficult, but I would strongly suggest so.’ He was now a suspect too (he even had a clear motive, being aware of how McEwan had mistreated Miss Fletcher), so I needed him close at hand. ‘Open that door only for Inspector McGray or myself. Understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I will come back in a few moments with some food –’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but don’t bother. I couldn’t eat anything.’

  ‘I can imagine, but I will still bring you something. You should keep up your strength.’

  I left then, and walked away only after I heard him turn the key.

  The house was deserted, every corridor and room downstairs. For a moment I thought every soul in the manor had fled, until I walked into the dining room and heard faint voices. They came from the kitchen.

  I descended the narrow stairs that led there, and found the spacious room bustling with life.

  The impossibly wide cook was by the fire, peeling potatoes with a tiny blade that was almost lost in her chubby fingers. The maid Tamlyn was having some porridge, talking worriedly to Mrs Glenister. The latter was preparing a silver tray with bread, tea and jams, perhaps for Mrs Koloman. Boyde was in the centre of the room, turning the lever of a butter-maker as quickly as if his life depended on it; the young man was sweating like a mule, his body odour overpowering all other scents in the kitchen – even though Mrs Plunket was simmering some sort of pungent curry.

  Everyone went quiet as soon as I walked in, and even though I have met my share of uncomfortable silences, this one was particularly caustic. They all stared at me, except for Tamlyn, who lowered her face so far she nearly dunked her nose in the porridge.

  ‘Keep turning that,’ Mrs Plunket said, pointing at Boyde with her shiny knife.

  ‘How may we help you?’ Mrs Glenister asked, standing upright and looking very tall with her enormous beehive.

  ‘I would like some breakfast. And prepare trays for Benjamin, Mr Dominik and Calcraft. I will unlock their doors for you.’

  ‘Tamlyn will see to that,’ said old Glenister as she picked up the tray. ‘My mistress cannot wait.’

  I simply stepped aside. She was one of those maids who fancied themselves in command of their masters.

  Tamlyn hurriedly arranged pots, jars and trays. The scrutinizing eyes of the other servants and the noise of the butter-maker made me edgy, so I decided to wait in the breakfast parlour. When my food came I ate at full speed, hardly tasting what I had, and then Tamlyn took me to Dominik’s bedroom. I knocked at the door with little delicacy, and even before I heard him reply I unlocked and opened the door.

  ‘Breakfast is served,’ I said, inexpressive.

  The room stank of tobacco, a thin cloud of smoke hovering about the ceiling. Dominik sat by the window, a cigarette in his hand, staring at Loch Maree. He was wrapped in a purple brocade dressing gown, the collar and cuffs trimmed with black fur. That and his brooding pose made him look very much the lord of the manor.

  Not yet, I thought, as Tamlyn arranged the tray and the coffee pot. She did her job silently and left the room in a hurry.

  ‘Have a seat, Inspector,’ Dominik said with a mocking smile. ‘Would you like some coffee? A cigar? Tyrannical control over my parents’ home?’

  I did take a seat, but there was no time for petty games. ‘Dominik, and excuse me if I use your Christian name’ –I did not want him to think he inspired too much reverence – ‘you are not a simple-minded man. You know why we had to lock you away.’ He simply sipped his coffee and I took his silence as assent. ‘Now, I will give you a fair chance to redeem yourself. Tell me what you and Calcraft were doing out there last night. Tell me nothing but the truth, and give me convincing evidence if you can.’

  I waited while Dominik helped himself to food and more coffee. Just as I was about to stand up and leave he spoke.

  ‘I went to the cellar to check that the wines had been properly stored. I also brought an important cargo of Sicilian lemons –’

  I tilted my head. ‘I thought you travelled from Norway.’

  ‘Indeed. I had them shipped especially. My mother and sisters are very fond of their lemon curd and I like to pamper them, as you have seen. Mrs Plunket has a secret recipe and —’

  ‘Do not distract me with those lemons. Get to the point.’

  ‘Calcraft helped me take them to the coolest pantry. He did a very good job throughout this trip – he always does – so I took a couple of bottles and we went to have a drink outside.’

  ‘Because . . . you could not drink indoors?’

  Dominik smiled. ‘I believe I am free to drink wherever I want in my father’s estate.’

  ‘Dominik, you know what I mean. Would you please

  He raised his voice. ‘My mother is not fond of Calcraft, if you must know.’

  ‘Is she not? May I ask why?’

  Dominik shrugged. ‘Women. Apparently, Calcraft made a few insensitive remarks at the height of Miss Fletcher’s . . . troubles. My mother did not like it so she sent him away with my uncle. As you know, he travelled a good deal, just as I do now. Calcraft became a proficient sailor very quickly, and Uncle Maximilian told me he was very loyal, so I put him in charge of my own ship when I was old enough to travel on my own.’

  I nodded. ‘So you two went to have a drink outside, away from the disapproving eyes of your mother.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nobody in your household saw you. They would have told me by now.’

  Dominik shrugged again. ‘I had no idea any of this was about to happen. I did not care to leave witnesses.’

  ‘Where exactly did you go?’

  ‘We went across the front gardens and then to a tiny bay on the westernmost part of our lands.’

  ‘You both became very intoxicated very quickly.’

  ‘Inspector, again, I am free to drink at whatever speed I like.’

  I took a deep breath. If Dominik was telling the truth, he and Calcraft had been at the opposite end of the
Kolomans’ grounds, as far as possible from the crime scene as they could reasonably have been. If he was telling the truth.

  ‘You cannot prove any of that,’ I said.

  Dominik pushed his cigarette into a heaving ashtray. I noticed small print on the singed paper, and recognized biblical lines. ‘The only evidence you might find are a few empty bottles we left on the spot and a few cigarette ends. You’ll know they are mine because I use this paper,’ and he pulled the little Bible from his pocket. Even with it still unopened I could see pages had been torn out indiscriminately. ‘We have good servants, but I doubt they sweep and mop every square inch of the grounds.’

  I nodded. ‘Good. I shall look for those bottles.’

  ‘And let me out?’

  ‘Let us hope so, Dominik.’ I shifted in my seat. ‘One more thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I noticed you showing a certain hostility towards your cousin.’

  ‘Hostility! I received the boy as warmly as possible. Ask your gaudy, tartan-clad clown of a colleague. Whenever I tried to talk or joke the silly boy just stood there all taut, as if I spoke bloody Cantonese.’

  ‘He had witnessed a murder a few hours earlier. The murder of not just any person but the man who raised him.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be my fault?’

  I nearly smiled, thinking it might be. ‘Can you tell me the exact time your steamer docked in Thurso?’

  He tossed his head back and cackled. ‘Oh, this is bloody unbelievable! Will you tell me now I also killed the stupid priest?’ He noticed I was studying his face, for he became serious. ‘Can you tell me why I’d want to murder two lowly, inconsequential men?’

  I could not, but I decided not to answer that directly. ‘There is another matter, something that must be in your mind. All of a sudden, your inheritance will go from one third to one sixth of your family’s estate. Benjamin is to receive half. Does that not bother you?’

  Dominik raised both arms, showing off his broad sleeves and looking around at the richly carved furnishings. ‘Does it look like we are short of money, Inspector?’