A Corpse at the Castle

by R B Marshall

  Lifting a thin shoulder, she sniffed. “It was some fancy foreign one, or so the policeman said. Probably came from the supermarket on some fruit. Paralyses you within fifteen minutes.” Her face crumpled, and I put a hand on her arm.

  “I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of it soon.” I glanced across at Craig. “And we’ll do everything we can to help.”

  She shook her head sadly. “There’s nothing to be done. I just have to get over it.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “A tragic accident, he called it. There’ll be an inquest, of course, but it seems like the police have their answers.”

  A roar of engine noise drifted on the wind, coming from the estate road. The mechanical sound was rather obvious in this quiet area where the only real noise was the occasional blackbird chittering a warning, or the wind soughing through the pine trees.

  Mrs Douglas gave a wan smile. “Maybe that’s Laura.” She checked her watch. “She’s made good time if it is.”

  Moments later, a sporty blue BMW swung round the corner and growled to a stop outside the cottage. Inside was a forty-ish woman with her black hair swept into a stylish knot at the back of her neck, red lipstick accentuating her lips and dark shades covering her eyes. In her dark suit and white shirt, she looked like I did, just a few months ago—like she’d only moments ago left her desk at some high-powered job in the city.

  I stuck my hands in my pockets and gave Craig a quick look from under my lashes.

  He took the hint. “Okay now, we’ll leave you in peace, Mrs D.” He raised a hand in farewell. “Just let me know if you are needing anything. Anything at all. You’ve got my number.”

  With Mrs Douglas occupied with welcoming her daughter, Craig walked me back to the truck and carried on where he’d left off with my goodbye kiss. Uninterrupted, this time.

  Ten minutes later—or maybe it was fifteen, I kind of lost track—with my toes still tingling and my pulse almost back to normal, I was in the lorry and driving back to Glengowrie.

  There was so much to think about, I didn’t know where to start. Who’d have thought, when I blithely drove up here yesterday afternoon that I’d have met a dishy royal employee, a hunky policeman… and a grieving widow.

  That last thought gave me pause. I thought back to what Mrs D had said about the spider. Was it really an accident? I’d heard of foreign spiders coming in on bunches of bananas. If that was the case, then Hamish’s death would be bad luck like the police said, not murder like I’d thought.

  I tapped a finger on the steering wheel while I thought that scenario through. If the spider bite had made him collapse in Eagle’s stable, then the horse may have got a fright and somehow ended up standing on him.

  But what about Eagle’s vision? I’d got so caught up with Mrs Douglas and then Craig that I’d forgotten about that. Did I really get a psychic message from a horse? I knew there were some people in the horse world who called themselves horse whisperers and said that horses ‘spoke’ to them, but I’d always been sceptical about that, assuming they were charlatans who were really good at reading the owners’—and the horses’—body language. So did I just imagine it?

  Of course, if Craig’s Horseman’s Guild weren’t merely grown-up boys playing at secret societies, maybe horse whispering was actually a thing and my imagination hadn’t been playing tricks. But why now? Why would I suddenly get a message from a horse for the first time at the grand old age of twenty-eight? It didn’t seem likely.

  I shook my head. Maybe it was simply a tragic accident after all.

  Chapter Ten

  I ended up going back to Balmoral sooner than I expected.

  Two days later, when I’d just about got back into the routine at Glengowrie, I got a phone call from Craig. We’d texted a few times since my visit, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the fact that it was a phone call took me a little by surprise. I was also sitting on Leo at the time, so it meant trying to ride one-handed while not dropping the phone in the other. Juggling was never my strong suit.

  “Hey Izzy, how’s things?”

  “Fine thanks. Just schooling Leo at the minute. You okay?”

  “Aye, I’m fine thanks. But—” In the pause that followed I could almost hear him running a hand through his hair.

  My heart sank. This doesn’t sound like it’s going to be good news.

  “It’s just—with all the shenanigans going on in the paddock, Allegra has lost a shoe and I’m afraid she’s looking a bit sore on that foot.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Could be worse. “It’s fine to get your farrier out if that’s what you were checking. Just get him to bill Lady L.”

  “Well, you see, that’s the problem. He’s not back in the area till next week. Might yours be able to pop up and put it back on?”

  Leo stamped a foot impatiently, so I squeezed with my calves to ask him to walk on. “Sorry, I’ll need to go. But I’ll ask him and let you know soon as.”

  “Okay. I’ll speak with you later.”

  Just before I clicked the phone off and stuffed it back into my pocket, I thought I heard the sound of him blowing me a kiss. Even if I imagined it, it made me smile for the rest of Leo’s training session. It’s the little things.

  Half an hour later, in the gap between riding Leo and working with Merlin, I was frowning, not smiling.

  Our farrier, Will Thomson-Bond, who I’d only met once, had unfortunately strained his back and been signed off for a week. The rounded vowels of his West Country accent seemed overly loud on the phone. “But him’s okay, my lovely. That Richard Mortimer is doing all my ’orses in the meantime. He’ll see you right.”

  I blinked. Looked like the urban cowboy was going to get his way after all, and get us as a client, albeit temporarily.

  “Well, you did say you’d give him a try,” Trinity reminded me when I came off the phone to Will.

  “True.” The eager expression on her face gave me an idea. “D’you want to phone him? See how quickly he can fit Allegra in. His card’s on the table in the tack room.”

  She beamed. “Sure thing, boss.”

  “I thought I told you not to call me…” I tailed off with a sigh as she disappeared into the tack room. There was no point in remonstrating with empty air.

  At lunchtime, once I’d finished working the horses, I phoned Craig back. “Our farrier’s off sick,” I told him. “But that Richard Mortimer is covering for him, and he can fit Allegra in tomorrow at two o’clock.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Och, would you believe it! That’s about the only time tomorrow that I can’t manage. I’ve a meeting up at the castle at two.” There was a pause. “I could ask Stan to hold the mare for you?”

  Creepy Stan. Ugh. “Let me see if I can organise things here so I can do it myself.” At least that would let me check up on the Lone Ranger and see his work in person.

  “Well, okay. But only if you let me take you for coffee after.”

  That put the smile back onto my face, and I went around for the rest of the day doing what Trinity called ‘my Cheshire Cat impersonation’.

  “Just take ’er out here into the laneway an’ I’ll do ’er there. It’ll be less stony for ’er there than in the yard,” Richard called over to me as he lugged his heavy equipment from his van in the Balmoral stables car park towards the fields.

  Fortunately he couldn’t see the surprise on my face. Didn’t expect him to be that thoughtful. Although, true to form with most farriers I’d ever encountered, he’d been half an hour late for our appointment. So maybe not that thoughtful.

  A couple of minutes later I had Allegra caught and led her into the path where Richard was waiting. Behind me in the paddock, Daisy and Eagle had their heads down, happily munching on the lush grass, seemingly unbothered that their friend had gone and that the heavy grey clouds overhead were promising rain.

  Richard motioned to a piece of orange baler twine looped round one of the fence posts. “Tie ’er to that. She’ll be done in no time.”

  I
did as he asked and handed him the lost shoe that Craig had left hanging on the gatepost.

  “Lovely jubley.” Taking it from me, Richard bent over and lifted her foot, checking that the shoe still fitted properly. “We’ll ’ave this back on in two shakes.” Standing up, he patted her shoulder and leaned over his toolbox to pick up his hammer and some nails.

  A loud snorting diverted my attention to the paddock, just in time to see Eagle standing up on his hind legs, front legs waving in the air, neck arched and nostrils flaring.

  Richard straightened, fist on his hip and a frown creasing his brow. “What’s up wiv ’im?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll go check.” Leaving Allegra tied up, I hurried over to the stallion. Grabbing a head collar from where it was hung on the fence, I opened the gate and approached Eagle, who now had all four feet on the ground but was still staring fixedly at Allegra, every muscle in his body quivering. Perhaps he’s got separation anxiety, I thought, sending out soothing vibes. He must really like the mare.

  My calming attitude seemed to help, and it let me quickly clip the head collar onto the stallion who was still tense but less angry looking. Putting a hand on his neck, I channelled placidity, hoping to calm him further.

  Instead, I got another vision.

  We were still in the stable, with a strange, musky smell filtering through the air, and only faint moonlight to see by. But this time there were two shadowy men, arguing angrily. One was smaller—Hamish, I assumed—and the other bigger. In silhouette, the taller man appeared to be wearing a hat with a brim, and it was this man that was causing Eagle’s intense feelings of fear and anger.

  Almost as quickly as the vision had appeared, it vanished again, leaving me mentally reeling, the hand on the stallion’s neck helping to hold me upright as much as calming him.

  It took a few seconds for me to get myself together, but fortunately Eagle remained quiet beside me while I gathered my wits. He nuzzled my hand, almost as if he was glad to have shared his memory with me—for I was sure it was real, this time, and not my imagination. There was so much emotion attached, I couldn’t have made it up. It affected me right to my core.

  Blinking, I looked back across the paddock to check Allegra was okay with Richard, only to spot Craig, who had appeared around the corner of the stable block and was walking towards the farrier, Jet at his heels.

  The breath stopped in my throat. Was it him in the vision? As usual, Craig had his baseball cap on, brim to the front. And he was certainly taller than Hamish.

  Ice trickled down my spine, making me shiver. Could Craig—the lovely man with the mesmerising green eyes—really have killed his boss? And then somehow have hurried away from the stables, met up with me at the pub, and…

  My cheeks flushed as I remembered what had happened in the dark outside the guest house. Was that why I couldn’t imagine Craig as a murderer? My heart sank. And was he only being nice to me so he’d have an alibi?

  As I stood motionless beside the stallion, my thoughts in a whirl, Craig spotted me across the paddock and raised a hand in greeting. Keeping my head down, I pretended I hadn’t noticed him and busied myself running a hand down the stallion’s legs, checking he hadn’t strained anything with his antics. It felt churlish, but I just couldn’t trust myself to respond to Craig right now, not while I was having these awful suspicions about him.

  “Was it him, boy?” I whispered, stroking the stallion’s shoulder, my back to the others in the lane. There was still tension in the muscles under his skin, but he was calmer than a few minutes before. “If you tell me, I can let the police know.”

  Then I almost laughed, as the absurdity of that last statement hit me. How would I inform the police? “Officer Night’s Watch, it wasn’t an accident, Hamish was killed. And I know who the murderer is, because a horse told me. In a vision.” Yeah, that would go down well. Not. They would send unsmiling men with a padded jacket and a little yellow van to collect me, and that would be the last I’d see of daylight for a while. I grimaced. That won’t work, Paterson. You’ll need to think of another plan.

  Pursing my lips, I puffed out a breath. So, even if Eagle showed me the murderer, I couldn’t tell the police, or they’d think I was nuts. I clenched my fists. I’ll just have to find other evidence then. Decision made, I nodded imperceptibly, then slipped the stallion’s head collar off and gave him a pat. “I’ll need to set Gremlin on him,” I muttered conspiratorially.

  “What’s that you’re saying about gremlins?” Craig appeared at Eagle’s other shoulder, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  “Oh! You gave me a fright,” I said, dropping the head collar in my fluster. Picking it up gave me an excuse to delay replying, and time to think of a decent answer. “I was just saying it must have been gremlins that set him off. Eagle, I mean,” I added, patting his shoulder again. “He took a right funny turn when he discovered Allegra was missing.”

  “So Richard said.” Swiping the cap off his head, Craig rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, squinting in the sunlight. “My meeting at the castle finished early.” He jerked his head northwards. “Would you want to go for a coffee? Then I can tell you all about it?”

  I checked my watch, using it as another excuse to delay replying. What could I say? From being excited about seeing Craig again, I was now feeling mistrustful and suspicious. Should I make my excuses and head back to Glengowrie, or should I meet up with him and pump him for information?

  “I can only spare a little while,” I said, deciding that I could do some investigating in person now, and use Gremlin later. “The farrier was late, so it’s set me back.” I motioned with my chin at the farrier and Allegra. “I’ll need to square up with him and put the mare back in the field first.”

  “Of course, of course. Shall we go to the café again?”

  “Okay,” I said. Surely I’d be safe enough in a public place, even if he was the killer?

  He dangled his keys. “Would you want a lift?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll follow you in my car once Allegra’s done. That way I can make a quick getaway after.” And that way I can avoid being in a confined space with a possible murderer. There was no harm in being careful, was there?

  Craig put his elbows on the table and looked at me over the top of his coffee cup. “So I couldn’t tell you on the phone, but the estate manager called me up to the castle for a meeting, and, would you believe it, he said that, subject to the Queen’s approval, they’re going to make me Stud Manager to replace Hamish!” His smile slowly grew, reaching from one ear to the other and lighting up his whole face.

  “That’s great!” I said, finding his enthusiasm rather infectious, even though his news gave him prime reason to murder his ex-boss. “But you thought that might happen?”

  “Well, aye, since I was Hamish’s second-in-command. But they could always have advertised the job outside. I mean, I’ve only been here a couple of years, so they mightn’t have thought I had enough experience.”

  “True. Well, congratulations, then,” I said, raising my coffee cup and clinking it against his. I had no real appetite to drink it, though. All this suspicion was wreaking havoc with my insides, and I was finding it hard to behave normally around Craig. Acting had never been my strong point. “Is the Queen’s approval just a formality? Like parliament? Surely she delegates stuff like this. Otherwise she’d be doing nothing but paperwork.”

  “Aye, but she’s more involved with the stud, since horses play such a big part in her life. She used to meet with Hamish once or twice a year, to go over the breeding plans. So I’m no’ sure if it’s a formality or not.” An anxious look flitted across his face.

  “Have you met her before?”

  He nodded. “When she’s been up in the summer, aye, once or twice. I’ve saddled her horse ready for her to ride, held it while she got on.” He could see the next question in my face. “She was okay wi’ me, I suppose. Even cracked a wee joke, one time.”

  “That’s goo
d then. But surely the new job means your duties will change?” I asked, trying to keep him talking.

  “Aye.” He set his cup down and stared at his drink for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I’ll have more to do wi’ the stud, and less time up the hill.” His mouth set in a line.

  “Will you miss it?”

  “I suppose I will, yes. I like being up there wi’ the garrons. Even when the weather’s bad it’s still spectacular up there.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Craig caught my hand across the table. “You should come up wi’ me sometime. Join in one of the shoots.”

  With a shudder, I shook my head and snatched my hand away. “I couldn’t do that. I’m okay knowing in theory that it happens, I know that deer numbers need controlling. But I wouldn’t want to see it in person.”

  Looking a little crestfallen, Craig nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s fair enough. Some of the guns can be a bit boorish. Or boring. So at least you’re saved from that.” His face brightened. “We could just go for a hill walk together on a day off. Conachcraig has some lovely views over Lochnagar. Or Craigendarroch is an easy walk through an old oak wood.”

  I nodded noncommittally. “I love those Scottish names. They just trip so easily off your tongue. Are they Gaelic?”

  “Yes, probably. My mother has the Gaelic, but I’m afraid I don’t speak it.”

  “The Gaelic,” I repeated, mimicking his lilt. “So quaint!”

  “You’ll be taken for a Sassenach if you carry on like that,” he teased.

  I snorted, then remembered that I was supposed to be interrogating him about the murder. “So does the new job mean you’ll be moving into Hamish’s cottage at the stables?”

  “Och, no, I wouldnae do that to Mrs Douglas. She loves thon garden. No, I’ll stay where I am, it’s no’ far from the stables and big enough for me and Jet.” He dropped his hand under the table to scratch the top of the Labrador’s head. “If I ever needed somewhere larger,” he gave me a significant look as he said this, “I could ask the estate manager to move me. But I’m fine for now.”