The Complete Kate Benedict Cozy British Mysteries

by Carrie Bedford

  “Come back, you big oaf,” Fergus yelled, moving to the verge and whistling to the dog. I lowered my hood to listen more closely. Arbroath stopped barking suddenly and scurried around in the undergrowth, rustling the leaves on the shrubs and snapping twigs under his big paws. Something certainly had him excited. When Fergus stepped off the path to follow, Josh went with him. My heart pounded. What if someone were lurking among the trees? I edged closer, prepared to do my part if we had an intruder, but all I could hear was loud panting. Less than a minute later, Arbroath seemed to lose interest and padded back out onto the drive. Behind him, Josh and Fergus emerged from the bushes, soaked through.

  “Barmy dog,” Fergus muttered, extricating leaves from his hair. “It was probably a rabbit. When he was younger he’d have caught it, but nowadays he’s too lazy.”

  My pulse slowed, but still I was happy that we were heading back to the shelter of the house. Arbroath stood in the center of the hall and shook himself, sending showers of water over the tiled floor. Fergus grabbed a towel from a hook in the boot cupboard. He rubbed the dog vigorously, leaving Arbroath’s hair standing up in spikes and smelling like a wet carpet. I crossed the hall to put my jacket in the cupboard.

  “Before dinner, I need to make some calls and send a few emails,” Fergus said as he dried the dog’s paws. “I promised Stanton Knox I’d let him have the painting and book inventories, and I still need to finish up the furniture.” He straightened up and hung the wet towel over the oak bench. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you think I’m heartless to be thinking of business matters now, right after Duncan’s death. And I need to make plans for his funeral, although I suppose we’ll have to wait until the autopsy is done.”

  “You’re not heartless,” Josh said. “It’s important to keep moving forward. Knox would be concerned if he stopped hearing from you. I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

  “I wonder if I should tell him about Duncan?”

  “Yes, definitely. The police will almost certainly be in touch with him, as he was here the night of the murder, so advance warning might be a good idea.”

  Fergus nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  The front door creaked open, making me jump, but it was Lachlan. He too began dripping water on the tiles. “Just checking in,” he said. “I thought I heard the dog barking?”

  “We think it was a rabbit,” Josh said. “But he didn’t catch it.”

  Lachlan grunted. “Very well. I’ll carry on then.”

  “You don’t have to be patrolling the place,” Fergus said. “There’s another storm rolling in. Come in and dry off. Mrs. Dunsmore will make you some supper.”

  The groundskeeper looked uncertain. “I told that inspector I’d keep watch,” he said. “Until they catch the murderer.” He rolled the word ‘murderer’ so that it sounded as though it had twice as many syllables as it really did. He shifted his rifle from one arm to the other and adjusted his cap. “I’ll grab something to eat and then I’ll get back out there,” he said. “The rain doesn’t bother me.”

  “There’s no need to be outside,” Fergus said. “But you do what you think is best.”

  “Aye, sir, I will, thank you.” He strode across the hall towards the kitchen stairs, his heavy boots thumping on the tile floor.

  “I’m going up to the office then,” Fergus said. “If you want to join me.”

  “Perhaps I could use the computer once you’re finished with it,” I asked. “I’d like to take a look for more information on the Fabergé eggs, but there’s no wi-fi or mobile signal so I can’t use my phone.” I tried not to sound whiny, but I did miss having easy access to the Internet.

  “Be my guest,” he said. “Off we go, then. Come on, Arbroath.”

  We all traipsed up the stairs and through the long hallway to the office where Fergus switched on the lights, banishing the shadows that had spooked me last time I was here. Josh and I sat together on one of the tartan sofas, while Fergus stood at the window, looking out at the rain, his reflection in the glass pale and ghostly. My stomach flipped. We had to stay focused. Someone or something still threatened Fergus’s life. His aura rippled fast over his head although, in the reflection, it was invisible.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and use the computer first,” he offered, without turning around. “I want to take another look at the purchase agreement.”

  We went to the table in the corner, where Josh pulled up two chairs. I turned on the PC, and we stared at the screen as though waiting for a celestial vision to appear. The dial-up modem screeched in the background as it struggled to connect. In spite of Fergus’s intention to work on the contract, he remained by the window, apparently lost in thought. Arbroath, spread out on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace, whimpered in his sleep, his legs twitching as though he was dreaming of running.

  “Chasing that rabbit,” Fergus said, looking over at the dog with affection. He stretched his arms over his head as he moved towards his desk and sat down. We turned our attention back to the computer, which was still whirring and clicking its way to life.

  A crash of glass followed by a boom and a blinding flash brought my heart to my mouth. Josh jumped up as I turned to see a jagged hole in the window and an eruption of flames in the middle of the room. Had the house been struck by lightning? I shot up, pushing back from the computer table, my chair crashing to the floor. Not lightning, my brain was telling me, but I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.

  “It’s a firebomb,” Josh yelled. “Get out, get out now.”

  Smoke, thick and oily, quickly filled the room. It was hard to see anything. Josh yelled at Fergus to get to the door while the dog howled. Wind poured through the broken window, fanning the flames higher. The varnished paneled walls caught fire instantly. My chest hurt as I struggled to breathe, with tears streaming down my face. Arbroath sprang from his place on the rug and backed away, barking at the fire that surged towards him. Ignoring Josh’s pleas for him to stay back, Fergus weaved past the highest flames to reach the frantic dog, caught hold of Arbroath’s collar and pulled on it. The dog refused to budge, and Fergus crouched down next to him, begging him to move.

  “Kate. Get out, get help.” Josh shouted. But like Arbroath, it seemed that my legs were glued to the carpet. I couldn’t move, watching in horror as the flames swallowed Fergus’s desk. The curtains at the broken window became cascades of fire, and the sofas blazed.

  But then Arbroath’s howls brought me to my senses. I calculated my path to the door, and ran. Just as I reached it, a figure filled the doorway. Through the miasma, I saw it was Lachlan. “Get out,” he yelled over the din.

  “Fergus won’t leave without the dog,” I gasped. “He’s on the other side of the room.”

  Without a word, Lachlan plunged in, disappearing into the inferno. Doubled over, I held the door frame for support, struggling to breathe through the smothering fumes that billowed out into the corridor. Josh was in there. I couldn’t leave him, but I had to get some air. I pushed away from the door and, as I staggered a few steps along the hall to where the smoke thinned, I became aware of a shrill ringing sound. A fire alarm, I realized, which must have alerted Lachlan. After inhaling deeply, I moved back towards the door. Someone was shouting above the roar of the fire, and suddenly Josh was rushing towards me through the haze, dragging the dog by its collar. I grabbed Josh, pulling him further along the hallway, away from the burning room. Freed from Josh’s grasp, Arbroath fled up the hallway.

  “Oh my God, are you all right?” I ran my hands over Josh’s hair and face, across his shoulders, sweeping away several embers that had fallen on his jacket. I stamped on them until I was sure they were out. Josh leaned against the wall. “Fergus,” he croaked.

  My heart felt as though it had stopped. Was this it? Earlier, Fergus’s aura had been moving so fast it was dizzying.

  A crash like a clap of thunder made the floor vibrate under our feet. Josh’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

  Seconds later Ferg
us and Lachlan burst through the open door, hurling themselves into the hallway. Using his jacket sleeve to protect his hand, Lachlan pulled the door closed. I ran to Fergus, patting him down as I’d done with Josh, extinguishing embers as I found them. The stench of burning hair and wool made me gag. Worse, Fergus’s aura still swirled over his head. Lachlan staggered away from the door, his face blackened with smoke and soot, his clothes ruined.

  “A book case collapsed near the door,” Fergus coughed, answering our unasked question about the crash.

  “We need to call the fire brigade,” I wheezed, looking around for a fire extinguisher.

  “They’re already on their way,” Lachlan said. “Mrs. Dunsmore called them when we heard the alarm going off.” He pointed to the ceiling a few yards along the corridor, and I saw a smoke detector, its red light winking furiously, still emitting its high-pitched squeal. Mrs. Dunsmore appeared at the end of the corridor, brandishing an extinguisher, Pierre right behind her.

  “That won’t help at this point, I’m afraid,” Fergus told her. “We need to get downstairs right now.”

  Another loud crack made me jump. The paint on the den door was bubbling and peeling, and the top panel splintered, releasing a blast of hot air and smoke. Together, we dashed along the hall and down the stairs to the entry hall, where we hurriedly took stock. Lachlan was nursing his hand, the skin from his fingers to his wrist red and blistered. Fortunately, at first glance anyway, neither Fergus nor Josh was hurt although their faces, like Lachlan’s, were covered in black smudges and Josh’s eyes were red.

  Mrs. Dunsmore opened the front door and we emerged into the fresh, cold air as sirens sounded in the distance.

  21

  We huddled out on the grass, watching in awe as the fire raged in the upstairs window. With the fresh air easing the pain in my chest, my panic subsided and my head started to clear. I leaned into Josh’s arms, still trembling, but overjoyed that he was safe. We both reeked of smoke.

  “Should we be thinking about saving anything from the downstairs rooms?” Josh asked Fergus. “The fire might spread before the engines get here.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Fergus replied. “But the internal walls are all built of stone and the floors are thick, so that will slow the fire down. Hopefully, help will arrive before it can do more harm.”

  As if in answer, a siren wailed on the road nearby. A minute later, a fire engine roared up the driveway, lights flashing. A team of men in fluorescent jackets disgorged from the vehicle and sprinted past us, pausing just long enough to ask Fergus for directions to the location of the fire. A second team worked on fitting a hose to the fire hydrant half-hidden in the shrubs along the drive. Within a minute, four firemen were directing the hose at the window of the office upstairs, water puddling on the ground at their feet.

  While we were watching, an ambulance arrived, and two paramedics jumped out. They insisted on examining each of us, and one began treating Lachlan’s hand. Fergus fretted about Arbroath, who’d run far from the fire and hidden in the kitchens. Mrs. Dunsmore tried to convince Fergus that the dog had been scared, not hurt, but still, she hurried back inside to call the vet, who promised to come over immediately.

  When another fire engine arrived, most of its crew hurried past us, but one man stopped and introduced himself as the fire chief. “What happened here?” he asked.

  “Someone threw a firebomb through the office window. He might still be out here, in the gardens. Maybe a pyromaniac, enjoying watching the results of his work,” Fergus said, with a wry smile.

  “A firebomb?” The chief looked surprised for a split second and then he turned away, talking on his radio. When he’d finished his call, he told us we should sit inside in the entry hall. The police were on their way, he said, and planned to search the grounds for the firebomber. He didn't need to mention that being outside made us easy targets. I wished I'd thought of how exposed Fergus had been, standing at the window.

  We straggled into the entry hall and huddled in a corner, out of the way of the firemen. In the light, I watched the air rotate over Fergus’s head. For a few moments, upstairs in the hallway, I’d allowed myself to hope that the fire had been the threat to his life, and that he had survived it. But if that were the case, the aura would have disappeared. The danger would be over. Disheartened, I clung to Josh’s arm, and we watched the comings and goings of the emergency crews.

  Inspector McMahon’s arrival soon afterwards induced a weird sensation of déja-vu. It was his third visit in as many days. He had a resolute, almost angry look on his face, as though this had gone too far, and he’d had enough.

  “Good to see you, Inspector,” Fergus said.

  “The chief’s saying it could have been a firebomb?” McMahon already had his notebook out and appeared ready to start taking notes, but the arrival of the vet interrupted him.

  “Dr. Ramsey,” the man said, introducing himself. “And I think you know my daughter, Fiona? She often helps me on my calls.”

  Fiona, dressed in a green sweatshirt and spandex leggings, gave us a nervous wave. “I’m training to be a veterinary assistant,” she said, explaining her presence. “Where’s Arbroath? Is he all right?”

  “I’ll take you to him,” Mrs. Dunsmore said. “Come along.”

  As Dr. Ramsey and Fiona followed her towards the kitchen stairs, Fergus made a move to join them, but McMahon raised his hand. “If you don’t mind, sir, the sooner I learn what happened here, the sooner we’ll catch the culprit.”

  “Don’t worry,” Fiona told Fergus. “I’ll bring Arbroath up to you as soon as my dad’s taken a look at him.”

  The paramedics had finished working on Lachlan’s wrist. When they recommended he go to the hospital, he refused and stomped off towards the kitchens. In the suddenly quiet hall, McMahon asked if we were ready to talk or if we needed to clean up first.

  “We’re okay,” Josh said.

  McMahon nodded. “Let’s move into the dining room,” he suggested when a group of firemen clattered past us. We did, all the three of us sitting on one side of the table with McMahon facing us. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Josh explained everything, from when the projectile smashed the window to when Lachlan arrived and succeeded in dragging Arbroath to the door.

  “You believe that someone deliberately attacked the room where you all happened to be gathered?” McMahon asked.

  Josh hesitated, thinking. “I’m not sure it would have been apparent the three of us were in there, but Fergus obviously was. The lights were on, with him at the window looking outside. We’d just come in from a walk, and we hadn’t turned lights on in any other rooms. So, on that side of the building, only one window was lit, and Fergus would have been clearly visible.”

  “You think, then, that the target was Fergus?”

  Josh glanced at his uncle before answering. “Yes, I think I do. And Kate and I would have simply been collateral damage.”

  McMahon directed his iron-colored gaze at me for a few seconds, perhaps thinking of what I’d told him earlier about the aura. I wondered if he would mention it, but the fire chief poked his head around the door just then. “I have a quick update and a couple of questions if you don’t mind. The fire is out. That room is a total loss, I’m afraid, but we can be thankful the fire didn’t spread beyond it. You could have lost the entire castle. We’re still working on establishing the cause of the fire, but we suspect a small incendiary device; a glass container containing an accelerant, kerosene most likely.”

  “Josh here says someone threw the container through the window,” McMahon said. “Wouldn’t that be hard to achieve?”

  “Not really. Someone with a good throwing arm could manage it well enough, and those windows are single pane, very easy to break. I’ve got someone outside calculating the trajectory of the projectile to see if we can pin down the location of the thrower.”

  “Arbroath barked when we were out in the garden earlier,” I said. “The
re may have been an intruder hiding in the bushes. We took a look around, but we didn’t see anyone.”

  “Whoever it was has almost certainly gone by now, but we’ll keep looking,” McMahon said. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch them.”

  “I’ll let my crew finish up and then we’ll be on our way,” the fire chief said. “And I’ll send a full report to you as soon as I can, Inspector.”

  While the fire chief tramped out in his heavy gear, McMahon stared at us thoughtfully. I wondered what was going through his mind, but whatever it was, the noisy arrival of the dog disturbed his contemplation. Arbroath bounded up to Fergus and licked his face, leaving trail marks on his sooty skin.

  Fiona followed close behind. “He’s fine, my dad says. The poor thing got scared, and his eyes hurt from the smoke, so we put some drops in them. But his lungs and breathing are good. Dad’s having a cup of tea with Mrs. Dunsmore. He’s doing a good job of calming her down.” She looked around the room as though at a loss on what to do next, and McMahon was quick to pounce.

  “As you’re here, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Take a seat.”

  “Me?” Fiona looked confused. “I wasn’t here. I’ve been home with Dad all evening.”

  “My questions don’t concern the fire,” McMahon said. “I’m looking for information on your movements last night. Just a couple of details.”

  She sat down next to me, knotting the cord of her green sweatshirt around her fingers.

  “There’s no need to worry,” McMahon assured her. “What time did you leave the castle?”

  McMahon now had two concurrent investigations to run and had to be looking for connections between Duncan’s death and this attack. It seemed like a daunting task, but he appeared calm, almost detached. When Fiona took her time answering, he didn’t hurry her.

  “Well, I left the kitchens once we’d finished the cleaning up,” she said at last. “Around one a.m.”

  “Who was still there when you left?”