The Complete Kate Benedict Cozy British Mysteries

by Carrie Bedford

  Deciding I’d seen enough, I stepped into the room. “Hi Duncan,” I said brightly. “Josh is looking for you. Are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right. Is the meeting over?”

  “Yes. Josh and Fergus are on their way up to have a drink. I don’t know where Lucy is.”

  I groped around on the wall next to me and switched on the lights, filling the library with a soft golden glow. Duncan glared at me, red spots of color on his cheeks.

  He smiled suddenly, a patently fake attempt that moved his lips up a fraction. “A drink sounds good.” The red blotches gradually faded. “Come on, we’ll go review our options while we wait for Fergus.”

  I followed him into the drinks cupboard where we examined the labels on the bottles until Josh arrived, with Fergus not far behind him. Lucy came in as Fergus was pouring our selections. He seemed to be in good humor. “To Stanton Knox,” he said, raising his glass. “He’s offering even more than we first discussed, although he wants me to throw in the collection of single malts, and I’m not so sure about that.”

  “He’s only saying that to wind you up,” Josh laughed. “But with what he’s prepared to pay for the place, I say give him the whisky. You’ll be able to afford to buy some more.”

  “Is Knox buying everything?” I asked. “Including the furniture and paintings?”

  “That remains under discussion,” Fergus said, leading us to the sofas in front of the fire. “I’ve drawn up lists of items that won’t be included in the sale. I’ll keep most of the family portraits, for example, and enough furniture for my new home. And I’m not prepared to include the entire contents of the library, although he’s very keen to keep it all.”

  I stole a surreptitious glance at Duncan. What had he been looking for on the bookshelves and in the chest of drawers? He glanced at me and looked away. Perhaps he guessed I’d seen him searching.

  “We’ll have to come to an agreement on how to handle the books,” Fergus continued. “I’ll create a list of what I want to keep. When I inherited the estate, I was given a stack of binders containing inventory registers of the books, pictures and furniture. So the book register will be a good starting point. I’ll go look for it after dinner.”

  “I’d be happy to help you,” Lucy said.

  Fergus patted her arm. “Thank you my dear. I’d appreciate the assistance.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I love books.”

  Duncan glared at her. What was that all about? Then I realized that he was probably angry at her offer to help Fergus with something related to the estate sale, but Lucy seemed either oblivious or deliberately ignoring his obvious disapproval. I thought about his search of the library shelves. He was up to something, that was clear. Was he the threat to Fergus? Josh had completely discounted that idea, but I wasn’t so sure. I’d have to keep a closer eye on him.

  10

  “Wake up, Kate.”

  It was Josh, pulling the covers back and shaking me harder than seemed necessary.

  “I’m awake.”

  “There’s something weird outside. You need to take a look.”

  I stumbled out of bed, woozy with sleep, and blinked when Josh opened the curtains, flooding the room with bright light. The window revealed a perfect view of azure sky, laced with threads of gossamer clouds. The rising sun set the moors alight in shades of amber and copper. I glanced back at Josh, eyebrows raised.

  “It’s a rare phenomenon,” he said. “They call it the sun, and it rarely visits this northern wilderness.”

  “Can I go back to bed now? It’s Saturday, and it’s only nine o’clock.”

  He cocked his head. “And miss all that?” He waved his arm dramatically towards the window.

  “It is beautiful,” I conceded.

  He ruffled my hair. “So are you, but get dressed. I’m starving.”

  Twenty minutes later, we found Fergus in the breakfast room, drinking tea and reading a newspaper. He looked up with a smile when he heard us come in. “Lovely morning,” he said. “I’m glad you will finally see Castle Aiten in the sunshine, Kate. And as we have the morning free, I think we should go for a ride. Rob Bryant runs the estate stables. I called him earlier, and they’re all ready and waiting for us.”

  I glanced at Josh. Riding sounded dangerous, and Fergus’s aura still swirled. “Perhaps we should all stay here and help you with your book list,” I said.

  Fergus shook his head. “No need. Lucy and I started it this morning at the crack of dawn, but we need some exercise and a break from staring at letters and numbers. Grab some breakfast and then we’ll go. Lucy and Duncan are getting ready. Duncan didn’t want to come, but I managed to persuade him.”

  It didn’t surprise me that Duncan would rather stay behind. It would give him a few hours to poke around the house in peace. But if he didn’t come, then I’d stay as well. I needed to find out what he was up to.

  Fergus went back to reading his paper while Josh piled scrambled eggs on to his plate, to which he added a slice of ham and a mound of sautéed mushrooms. But the continued evidence of the threat to Fergus had dulled my appetite. I poured myself a cup of tea and spread butter and homemade marmalade on a piece of toast. By the time I’d finished, Fergus and Josh were on their feet and waiting to go. In the entry hall, I held back as they put on their jackets, contemplating how best to excuse myself from the ride.

  Just then Lucy called from the top of the stairs. “We’re coming. Mrs. Dunsmore found some proper shoes that Duncan can ride in. He doesn’t want to wreck his fancy loafers.”

  So Duncan would come after all. There went my excuse to avoid the ride.

  Unlike some of my friends, I was never horse-crazy growing up. I’d taken a few lessons at the local riding school— on a pony appropriately named Placid. I thought, looking back on it, that my parents must have bribed the teacher to only let me ride the smallest and fattest pony in the school.

  Hoping my horse today would be equally serene, I squeezed in with the others in the back of Fergus’s dilapidated green Land Rover for the short drive to the stables. No one discussed Knox or the sale. In the front, Fergus and Josh chatted about Josh’s job and what it was like living in London. Duncan and Lucy chatted quietly, making no effort to include me. But the drive was short, and we soon arrived at a neat stable block that held a dozen stalls and a small office where the manager greeted us. The smell of hay, manure and horse sweat filled the air.

  A stable boy brought out our horses, one by one, starting with a handsome black stallion for Fergus. Duncan didn’t seem happy with his smaller white horse, although I thought she was charming. While Duncan pouted, Lucy happily mounted her pretty black and white piebald, and Josh helped me onto a sleek brown mare called Missy.

  “Have you ridden before?” I asked Lucy as I concentrated on stopping Missy from backing into Josh.

  “I grew up with horses and was on an equestrian team at school,” she said. “After I graduated and was living in Kent, I rode on weekends. But I haven’t been able to do much since I moved to London, so I’m excited to get out for a while. Here,” she added, leaning over. “Thread the reins through your fingers like this and relax your hands.”

  Lucy was full of surprises. For some reason, my first impression of her had been of a quiet, retiring, professorial type. But now it seemed obvious I’d misjudged her. There was something of a female Indiana Jones about her, with her secretive explorations of the castle and her horsemanship.

  Once everyone was ready, we followed Fergus at a sedate pace out of the stable yard and along a dirt road, which quickly dwindled to a sheep track. I soon got used to the gentle sway of Missy’s back under the saddle and remembered how to use the reins to move her in the right direction— not that she needed much help from me. She trotted along with determination as though she’d done this ride many times before.

  As we wound our way through the heather, the sun transformed the moors into fields of molten gold, and the air smelled of warm ve
getation, which reminded me of my dad’s garden in the summer, with its scent of sun-kissed tomato plants. For a blissful hour or so, I pushed away thoughts of the vision and of Fergus’s aura. It seemed impossible for anything bad to happen on a day as gorgeous as this one.

  Catching sight of water glinting under the translucent sky, I saw that we’d circled all the way to the lochan that Josh and I had visited the day before. Gone were the ominous grey waves. Today, the surface was like glass, reflecting the lemony light. We rode to the water’s edge to let the horses drink in the shadow of the Brynjarr Stone. The sounds of lapping and gentle nickering were peaceful and soothing. Even Duncan looked relaxed and content.

  When Fergus turned his horse to start the ride back, the others followed, but Missy refused to budge. I tugged on the reins, trying to raise her head. She carried on drinking. Unconcerned, knowing I could catch up, I sat and patted her neck, enjoying the moment of solitude. Her coat was warm against the palm of my hand, and the sun felt like a heat lamp on my back.

  A bird squawked overhead, loud enough for Missy to look up. Black and white, the bird flew over us and landed on a low boulder a hundred meters away. A few seconds later, another bird settled next to it. While I was trying to make out what kind of birds they were, I noticed something gleaming on the sand. It was very close to the rock, which sat half in and half out of the water. They were magpies, I realized, scavengers attracted to shiny things. Curious to see what the glistening object was, I tugged on the reins until Missy paid attention. We ambled slowly towards the birds. Even as we came closer, they didn’t move, staring at us with the arrogance they were known for. In spite of their attractive plumage, they had a reputation as bearers of evil omens. Even my down-to-earth grandmother always crossed herself when a magpie flew past.

  The object I’d seen from a distance was glass, probably a bottle of some kind. Certain that Josh or I would have noticed it yesterday from where we’d been sitting, I wondered who’d left it there and when. I pulled Missy to a halt and dismounted. She stood quietly, gazing at the birds out of the corner of her eye as though she didn’t trust them.

  It was only after I’d walked a few steps closer that I understood that there was no boulder. The magpies were sitting on the back of a man’s body. His legs were in the sand and his head in the water. My stomach churned, but I moved forward. It didn’t seem possible he was alive, but I had to be sure. Shooing the stubborn birds away, I knelt at the edge of the shallows and, screwing up my courage, rolled the man over. It was obvious at once he was dead. His face was a mess, grey and puffy, dreadful enough to make me look away quickly. His fair hair was darkened with water and I couldn’t guess his age, but the Mumford & Sons T-shirt he wore suggested he was young. One of his hands stretched out towards what I now saw was a whisky bottle, with a few centimeters of brown liquid in the bottom. I forced myself to look at his face again and saw an abrasion on his cheek and a deep and jagged gash in his left temple.

  Bile rose in my mouth. I jumped up and rushed to a bush where I threw up. Still shaking, I returned to Missy and tried to scramble into the saddle, but my muscles weren’t working properly, and I couldn’t pull myself up. Clutching her bridle, I leaned against Missy’s neck, feeling her coarse mane rough against my cheek. I took a few deep breaths and straightened up. On my next attempt, I swung up onto the saddle, and turned the horse away from the man’s body. Abandoning my earlier caution, I dug my heels into her flanks and coaxed her into a fast trot, guiding her along the lochan towards the Brynjarr Stone and the path that Fergus had taken.

  At the black spire, I stopped when I saw Josh riding towards me. He waved me forward. “Come on,” he called. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  My voice caught in my throat. I could hardly speak, let alone shout, so I waited until he rode closer. “We need to call the police,” I gasped. “A dead body.” I twisted in the saddle to point.

  Josh’s face paled. “Show me,” he said.

  Reluctantly, I turned Missy around and led Josh back along the shore. The magpies had already returned and now perched on the man’s chest. I yelled at them to no avail while Josh slid from his horse and handed me the reins. After a moment of hesitation, he strode towards the water, flapping his arms until the birds flew off.

  He knelt down beside the body for a moment and then stood and dusted sand from his jeans. He looked as shaken as I felt.

  “Do you know who it is?” I asked.

  “I only met him once a year ago, but if I had to take a guess, it’s Nick.”

  11

  A rush of activity followed. Leading Josh’s horse, I rode after Fergus and the others to tell them what had happened; Josh took the footpath through the rocks to reach the house and a phone. Fergus insisted on seeing the body and refused to wait until the police arrived, which left me with a dilemma. I couldn’t leave him alone, so I had to go with him, much as I dreaded seeing the corpse again. Duncan and Lucy said they’d ride to the stables and bring the Land Rover back to the house.

  Fergus cantered fast enough along the lochan to make me nervous that his horse might stumble, but we soon arrived safely at the water’s edge. I pulled Missy to a halt and stayed in the saddle while Fergus dismounted and strode towards the body.

  “Is it Nick?” I asked.

  “It is.” Fergus knelt down, his head bowed for a minute before he straightened up. His aura swirled, a constant reminder of the threat to him. I was sure Nick would have had an aura too, but I hadn’t seen him when he was alive. And, I knew from past experience that, at the moment of death, the aura disappeared.

  Fergus remained next to Nick, keeping watch over him, until two police officers arrived, led by Josh along the pathway through the granite boulders.

  “We’ll take it from here, sir,” the senior officer said. “We need to secure the scene so if you’d step back and get the horses out of the way, we’d appreciate it.”

  With nothing left to do, the three of us rode to the stables, where we were greeted by the grim-faced manager, who offered his condolences and a ride home in his Range Rover. We drove in silence back towards the castle.

  The ambulance and a second police car arrived just as we turned into the castle driveway. One of the officers told us that Nick’s father had been notified and was on his way. My stomach did flips as I thought of how awful it must have been to receive that call. Fergus was shaken, his face white and drawn. Of all of us, only he had known Nick well. Taking charge, Josh guided him inside and insisted that he sit down in the drawing room. Duncan, who must have heard us come in, joined us and said Lucy was resting in her room.

  “What do you think happened?” he asked once we were all seated.

  Josh shook his head. “It looked as though maybe he’d been drinking and he fell.”

  “Damn silly behavior,” Duncan commented, apparently unmoved by the death. Josh rolled his eyes and we sat in silence until Mrs. Dunsmore came with tea. She poured it without talking, and the clink of china and silver was strangely soothing.

  Half an hour later, a policeman came to tell Fergus that Mr. Jameson had confirmed the dead man was his son. The senior investigating officer was due to arrive shortly, he said.

  It turned out that the middle-aged inspector, who introduced himself as DCI McMahon, knew Fergus through a prior case, something to do with sheep rustling. They greeted each other somberly and talked quietly for a few minutes before McMahon asked if he could interview me, as the person who’d discovered the body. Fergus suggested we use the breakfast room. I followed the inspector there, and we drank tea while McMahon filled out his interview sheet.

  “This is purely routine,” he said in a soft Scottish accent. “We only need the details of how and when you found the body.”

  His slate-grey eyes flicked between me and the notes on the paper in front of him as I talked. He had big hands, I noticed, which stuck out from the sleeves of his dark blue suit.

  When he’d finished with me, he stood and straightened his t
ie, a muted green tartan that didn’t really go with his navy jacket. “I’m sorry you had to go through this,” he said. “Finding a body is always a shock. If you feel you need to talk to someone about it, I can make a recommendation for a counsellor.”

  I thanked him and said I was fine. It didn’t seem like the right time to say that I was fairly used to stumbling across dead bodies.

  “You’re free to join the others,” he said. “I plan to have a word with the chef, Pierre, while I wait for my team to finish up at the lochan.”

  When I wandered into the drawing room, Fergus, Josh and Duncan were talking quietly.

  “Should we cancel the birthday party?” Fergus asked once I was seated next to Josh.

  “I don’t think so,” Duncan replied. “It’s too late. We can’t possibly contact every guest in time. It is unfortunate timing, but we should go ahead as planned. Most of the guests don’t even know the Jameson family.”

  Josh nodded his agreement. “Knox is coming back especially for the party, and the overnight guests will arrive at any minute. It’s tough, but I don’t see a way around it.”

  “You’re right. It seems inappropriate though.”

  A heavy silence hung in the air, seemingly pushing the oxygen out of the room. I was finding it difficult to breathe, recollecting the sight of Nick’s ruined body by the water. A little later, McMahon appeared in the doorway and, although Fergus invited him to sit, the inspector remained standing. Without preamble, he told us that their initial findings indicated an accidental death. “The whisky bottle was almost empty,” he said. “We’ll have to wait for results of toxicology tests, but it seems likely the victim was intoxicated. He fell and hit his head hard enough to knock him unconscious into the shallow water where he drowned. Or the fall itself may have been fatal. The medical examiner will be able to tell us whether he died from the head injury or drowning, but we won’t probably hear anything until tomorrow or Monday.”