Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  ‘But you do need to lie down, missus,’ said Miss Fletcher as she lifted the woman in her arms. ‘Ma’am, may I take her to the last guest room?’

  Mrs Koloman looked at the frail woman, her eyes still on fire, but then her gaze went to the mortified Helena, and to Miss Fletcher, and her features softened a little.

  Miss Fletcher attempted to smile at the girl. ‘Helena, you had better stay here. I’ll take good care of your mother, I promise.’

  Helena stretched her arms towards her mother, but Mrs Koloman held her in place.

  Veronika and Mrs Plunket still stood like statues at the bottom of the stairs, and their eyes followed Mrs Nellys as Miss Fletcher carried her right in front of them. Veronika’s expression was striking: she stared at the poor woman in sheer, indescribable terror, unable either to blink or to breathe. She only remained on her feet because Mrs Plunket held her firmly.

  The cook whispered something in the girl’s ear and Veronika shuddered, suddenly coming back to her senses, and she managed to look away.

  ‘My dear, you’re freezing!’ I heard Mrs Koloman say. She was holding Helena’s hands. ‘Mrs Plunket, take my daughter to her room, and then bring a blanket and some hot soup for Helena. And for the love of God, find any of the girls and tell them to set a fire in the drawing room.’

  At once, ma’am,’ said Mrs Plunket; she and Veronika were already on their way upstairs.

  ‘Come, my dear,’ said Mrs Koloman. ‘I need to get you out of those drenched clothes. I might have something you can wear.’

  ‘Mrs Koloman,’ I said as softly as I could manage, ‘please let me know when the child and the mother are fit to talk. I have several questions I’d like to –’

  And then we all heard a gunshot outside.

  32

  ‘Go upstairs!’ I urged, running to the back door. As I unsheathed my gun I took one last glance at the staircase. As soon as the women disappeared I kicked the door open. I strode out, my heart thumping and my hand ready to shoot. I would soon feel slightly ridiculous.

  ‘Nothing to worry about!’ McGray yelled from the distance, but I did not lower my gun until I saw him appear. He came from the west end of the manor, snorting and stamping on the ground with fury.

  ‘What happened?’

  He shook his head, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. I saw Mr Koloman emerge around the same corner, and behind him came Benjamin and Natalja. And Uncle Maurice.

  I nearly gasped, for all the men were armed with either rifles or slimmer shotguns. Even Benjamin, though he held the weapon as far from his body as he could, as if it were a skunk.

  Mr Koloman was grinning, oblivious to his nephew’s discomfort. He pranced forward in a manner that very much reminded me of his son, with the rifle over his shoulder, and in the other hand he brandished what I thought at first was the world’s most famished grouse. The daylight was dull indeed, for I did not recognize the animal until Mr Koloman stood three yards from me. It was, of course, a bat, most likely the one I’d seen minutes ago.

  ‘We found this thing flapping around the house,’ he announced.

  I winced, for the animal was a very ugly sight: black, hairy and dripping blood. However, that was not what surprised me the most.

  ‘Why did you never tell us you had all these guns?’

  McGray was red with anger. ‘Aye, I was as shocked as ye. They have a room full o’ them, guns and ammunition. I told them they could take the laddie out for a wee while, and before I knew it they were all armed and strolling about the garden.’ He looked at Uncle Maurice with indignation. ‘And yer soddin’ Frog of an uncle told them to never mind the “Aber-bloody-deener”. I’m from Dundee, ye cretin!’

  Uncle Maurice looked rather pleased with himself, which only worsened my mood. ‘Ian, these are hunting grounds. Of course they keep guns. I keep even more on my estate. You have seen them.’

  ‘This is ridiculous!’ I cried, both to him and Mr Koloman. ‘Do you not grasp the situation? You should have told us you had firearms within everybody’s reach!’

  ‘They won’t for much longer,’ said McGray, patting his breast pocket, where the keys jingled. ‘I’m locking these in the gun room right away.’

  Mr Koloman’s smile had not faded. ‘Inspectors, I have told you plenty of times already, Benjamin is perfectly safe here. If anyone in the family had the slightest –’

  ‘Och, shut that hole in yer face!’ McGray snatched the dead bat.

  ‘Where did you find that thing?’ I asked.

  Mr Koloman used the rifle to point. ‘On the west wing, close to the kitchen . . . By the pantry, in fact, where you are keeping Lazarus.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said McGray, staring at the dead bat. ‘I was the first one to see the poor devil.’

  ‘Give the weapons to my uncle,’ I told them. ‘We are locking them up ourselves. And do go inside. Your wife has some news for you.’

  Benjamin seemed only too glad to be rid of his gun. Mr Koloman, still in high spirits, put his arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders. ‘We must do as we are told, mustn’t we? Come, you look like you could use some red wine.’

  ‘Sir, it’s not yet eleven . . .’

  ‘Do not call me sir, for the love of God!’ and their voices became lost as they went inside. Natalja rushed away without even glancing at me.

  ‘She’s been furious all morning,’ Uncle whispered in my ear. ‘What have you done to her?’

  McGray chuckled. ‘Ye should ask what has he nae done –’

  ‘Oh, that is the least of my worries right now. Uncle, what the heck did you think you were doing, encouraging them to go shooting at a time like this? Gosh, you are worse than Elgie, and he has only just turned nineteen!’

  McGray was sombre. ‘Percy’s right. Don’t mingle with these people like that. And don’t ye dare mock or question our authority again.’

  ‘In fact,’ I said, all bleakness, ‘you should go back to the inn.’

  Uncle smiled, but for once he seemed uneasy. ‘Oh, Ian, you cannot be serious.’

  He did not stop smiling, as if my words could not sink in.

  ‘I am,’ I said, ‘and the sooner you leave the better. There will be constables here soon and I cannot bear the thought of you passing them drinks and cigars while they question people and inspect the corpse.’

  Uncle Maurice faltered for an instant. He attempted to widen his already fading grin, but I was glaring at him.

  ‘Very well,’ he said in the end, his voice graver than I’d ever heard it. ‘I shall just say farewell to the family. Basic manners, Ian.’

  He dropped the rifles in my arms and went inside.

  ‘I hope he is not too offended,’ I mumbled.

  McGray shrugged. ‘Mnah, buy him a bloody crate o’ fancy Frogs’ wine and it’ll all be forgotten. We do need him out o’ the way.’

  I sighed. ‘In that you are right. Things are getting more and more convoluted: Mrs Nellys is here with her daughter. She is demanding we free Lazarus.’

  ‘What? She’s here? How did she manage to row all the way from the island?’

  ‘By nearly killing herself. Miss Fletcher had to take her to a bed. The last one in the house, I believe.’

  McGray whistled. ‘At least we still outnumber the dead ones.’

  I sighed at that thought, and for some reason a little voice in my head whispered: For now.

  ‘It is an old specimen. See, the fangs are eroded.’

  The little jaw, oozing blood and saliva, looked exactly like the engraving in Natalja’s book, so at least the repulsive image was not a complete surprise.

  McGray and I were both leaning over the unfortunate animal. We had spread its wings on a small table in the astronomy room – the only place where we seemed to have some privacy.

  ‘That book said they could live for almost ten years,’ said McGray. ‘So this wee lad has seen his share o’ Scottish winters.’

  ‘Yes, this species don’t hibernate. In winter they
must have a place to roost. A . . .’ I remembered the chilling lines in that history book. A cave, perhaps.’

  McGray straightened his back. ‘And if they cannae withstand the cold . . . they’d also need to be fed in the coldest months.’

  My eyes opened wide. ‘Are you suggesting that the Nellyses in fact breed these things?’

  ‘And feed them with their goats’ blood. Aye.’

  I looked sideways. ‘I just heard Mrs Koloman say that the Nellyses manage to produce only a meagre amount of cheese.’

  ‘Really? That makes nae sense. They have a lot o’ goats, Frey. And remember I saw a bat the night the priest was murdered. These things seem to follow that family like hungry pets.’

  ‘Breeding bats,’ I muttered. ‘Why would anybody do that?’ Once again I felt I was looking at the loose pieces of a dark, disturbing puzzle. ‘Blood is at the core of everything,’ I mumbled, completing my thought.

  ‘Aye. The bull’s blood baths; the constable appearing without a drop o’ blood in his body; these bloodsucking flying beasts; and then –’

  I saw the buoyancy in his eyes. I was about to ask what he was thinking but there was a gentle knock at the door.

  ‘Yes?’

  Mrs Glenister stepped in, looking, if possible, more irritated than ever before: her hands were interlaced tightly, her lips a mere slit across her face.

  ‘Inspector Frey, Mr Plantard says he wishes to have a word with you before he leaves. I’m afraid he is already at the main entrance.’

  McGray went to the south dormer window. ‘Aye, yer uncle seems to be taking his goodbyes very seriously.’

  I had a look too. The Kolomans’ main carriage was there, already loaded with most of my uncle’s trunks. The entire family – including Veronika, of course – had gathered around him.

  ‘What did he give ‘em to drink?’ McGray asked scornfully. ‘They only met him a couple o’ bloody days ago, yet they’re all melting on him like butter on a fat hag’s arse.’

  Mrs Glenister cleared her throat very loudly. ‘Shall I show you the way – gentlemen?’

  I breathed out. ‘Very well. The sooner he can leave the better.’

  And I laid out a handkerchief to cover the bat, but very poorly. Mrs Glenister raised an eyebrow, looking intently at the leathery wings that still stuck out. ‘When I was younger,’ she said, ‘there was not one such creature in these lands.’

  McGray and I both turned our heads towards her. Our movement was so sudden she took a step back.

  ‘Could you elaborate, please?’ I asked, and Mrs Glenister gulped.

  ‘Mr Plantard appears to be in a hurry, sir.’

  ‘That soddin’ imp can wait,’ said McGray. ‘Tell us, how long ago was that?’

  The wrinkles between the woman’s eyes had deepened and extended almost to her hairline. ‘Twenty-five . . . no, nearly thirty years ago. Not a single one of them in sight.’

  ‘And then?’

  Another gulp, and then she burst out, as if she’d longed to say those words for a very long time, ‘They all arrived with the Nellyses. Only a few at first, but then more and more . . . And now we see them every summer, fluttering about whenever it’s warm. It seems every year they dare come a little closer to the house. We would never have seen them on the mainland five years ago, but now my master shoots at least a couple every summer. This is the third one this year.’ She trembled and rubbed her arms, as if stricken by a sudden draught. 1 had a nightmare once. I saw thousands of them flapping through the manor, in every hall and every room.’ She took a breath, perhaps about to say more, but then closed her mouth tightly and looked away.

  ‘Why do you think the Nellyses brought them?’ I said.

  ‘God only knows. The ghastly things just seem to follow that family wherever they go.’

  Like this one did today, I thought.

  I shook my head and hurried to the door. When we arrived at the manor’s main entrance Smeaton was already in the driver’s seat, looking quite bored as the Kolomans said their goodbyes. Boyde had just loaded the last trunk.

  Veronika seemed quite sad, supporting herself on Natalja’s arm as Uncle Maurice kissed her hand.

  ‘I do hope we can meet again,’ the girl was saying. Either she had recovered some colour or she was flushed at my uncle’s presence. ‘Under more pleasant circumstances, of course.’

  ‘I shall write as soon as this sad affair is over,’ he replied with his most charming smile. ‘You would all be welcome to visit my estate in Gloucestershire.’

  ‘Perhaps this very winter,’ Mr Koloman jumped in, giving Uncle a hearty handshake.

  I watched the scene from a distance, my arms crossed, perfectly aware of how bitter I looked.

  Uncle saw me and his smile faded immediately. He excused himself, came over to me and we walked to a quieter corner of the sumptuous garden. Bushy lavenders bloomed all around, and Ellie was gathering the flowers in a basket, perhaps for more baths. As soon as she saw me she ran away.

  ‘I know I have been disturbing things,’ Uncle said as soon as the girl had gone. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘There is something about this family I do not like,’ I mumbled, but when I looked over at them I found the twins pointing at the roses and rhododendrons, while their parents, arm in arm, whispered and smiled at each other. In their flourishing gardens, the solid manor behind them, they were the very image of plenty.

  ‘Oh, my, they are dreadful indeed,’ said Uncle, all sarcasm. He did not let me protest. ‘Ian, Konrad seems to adore Benjamin. So do Minerva and the cousins. They have all told me so: they see Benjamin as a blessing. Konrad now has someone to manage the estate; Dominik can go on world-trotting; the girls can now marry for love. . .’ He glanced at Veronika with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Natalja. ‘Or not at all, if they so wish. If anyone around here will look after Benjamin, it is them.’

  Uncle might be irresponsible, immature, hedonistic and decadent, but he is decidedly good at judging people. I took a deep breath.

  ‘Let’s assume you are right. Then who sent the death threat?’

  He gave me a weary smile. ‘Sometimes we need a little help to see the obvious.’

  He rested a hand on my shoulder and made me look back at the house. I saw an ashen face looking out from one of the upstairs’ windows: Mrs Nellys was staring at us without shame, her mouth downturned.

  ‘Uncle, why –’

  ‘There is something clearly wrong with that family. Many things, in fact. I cannot tell why they would not want Benjamin around, but I am sure you will be able to find that out. You are right; I am far too irresponsible for this sort of affair. I He gulped painfully, and then looked down. ‘I have never told you this . . .’

  He stooped over the nearest lavender, plucked a bloom and brought it to his nose.

  ‘What?’ I said softly.

  ‘I once got a girl . . . a sweet girl in trouble.’

  I felt my heart rushing. ‘Oh, Uncle, there is no need –’

  ‘Yes, Ian, there is every need. Only a handful of people ever knew. Your mother included.’ He sighed. ‘She took care of everything for me. She assured the family that their daughter would be well looked after. She made sure your grandfather promised an income for the child . . . Dear, dear Cecilia. She was the best sister and the best woman in the world. I wish you’d spent more time with her.’

  I wanted to say I do so too, but the words stuck in my throat.

  ‘And what did I do?’ he continued, tossing the flower aside. ‘I went away to spend three months between Paris and the Swiss Alps, and spared no other thought for the matter. I even refused to see the girl again, and when I returned I learned that she had died. Her family had sent her off to give birth in secret, somewhere very remote in Cornwall, and she did not survive. Neither did the child. Perhaps because of the poor conditions there.’ Uncle Maurice swallowed again, tightening his entire body to hold back tears. ‘People whispered it had been a boy.’

  I remembered the
melancholy in his eyes when he had stared at the tiny graves on Isle Maree. Now I understood.

  After a moment of deep silence he nodded at the Kolomans. ‘This family reminds me too much of that year, Ian. I see a lot of myself in Konrad, attempting to undo at least some of the harm that was done in the past.’ Uncle smiled wryly. ‘He still can. I, on the other hand. . .’ He smirked, his face full of regret. ‘I have not even learned the lesson, it would seem. I simply cannot confront hardship with a straight face.’ He squeezed my arm affectionately. ‘You are far better at that than me, Ian, and I admire you for it. I really do.’

  A light breeze came then, stirring the scents of the lavenders and the nearby pines.

  I did not know what to say, and Uncle read it in my face, for he just squeezed my arm a little tighter, smiled and went away.

  All the things I could have told him then . . .

  33

  ‘I just know!’ Mrs Nellys said for the tenth time.

  There was a tray full of cold meats, wine and succulent fruits by her side, but she had refused to eat or drink at all.

  ‘You do realize that will not help your son at the inquest?’ I asked, replacing the stethoscope in Mrs Koloman’s instrument case. Mrs Nellys had firmly refused to be examined by the lady, so I’d had to step in. ‘And before you blame Dominik Koloman one more time, I must tell you that he at least has given some explanation of his whereabouts at the time of the death. A statement impossible to verify, yes, but your son has offered none.’

  She crossed her arms and looked away. I knew I would not get anything from her.

  McGray had been standing by the window throughout my interrogation, staring at the gardens. At last he spoke.

  ‘What can ye tell us about yer bats?’

  ‘They’re not my bats,’ she retorted at once.

  ‘Do youse breed them?’

  ‘Why would we breed those monsters?’ she almost shrieked. ‘They besiege our goats and bleed them to death if we’re not careful. We make hardly any profit because of them.’

  ‘We heard they arrived here at around the same time you and your husband’s family moved to Juniper Island,’ I said.