by Mona Marple
The group made muffled noises of agreement and Graeme shone the torch past them onto the table itself.
“If you look closely, you’ll see how intricate the cutlery is. Every knife, fork and spoon features a unicorn head and dates back to the 1600s.”
“Why a unicorn?” Tom asked.
“It’s been a Scottish symbol since the 12th century.” Graeme said. “Remember that Lady Margaret would have entertained people from around the world in this hall, and the cutlery was one way of her reminding them they were on Scottish soil.”
“I’d be scared to use any of that stuff.” Sandy muttered. “I bet it’s all so valuable.”
“It’s either incredibly valuable or Graeme bought it from the supermarket last week and made up a nice story about it.” Tom whispered. She let out a small laugh. It was hard to tell whether their tour guide was knowledgeable or imaginative.
“Now, if we can move our attention to the wall over here.” Graeme said, moving the torch light on to the wall to Sandy’s right. A huge tapestry hung on the wall, its colours muted with age. “This is one of my personal favourites. We have direct evidence that this tapestry was hung in this exact spot when Lady Margaret herself was in residence.”
“What evidence?” One of the Americans asked, his voice high with curiosity. “I mean, surely, you didn’t see a selfie on her Facebook profile with it in the background.”
“No, no.” Graeme said. “Lady Margaret preferred Twitter.”
Sandy let out a snort of laughter.
“And then if we can look across to the left, I’ll highlight some of the…”
“Ahhh!” It was Priscilla again. She let out a blood-curdling scream as the torch spanned across to the display case on the left. “Oh my, oh Lord no.”
“What is it?” Graeme asked. Sandy heard movement among the group but remained still.
“Down there.” Priscilla said through heavy tears. “On the floor, it’s Marlene, she’s… oh Lord. Oh Lord have mercy.”
Graeme flashed the light across the floor, until Sandy saw the spotlight illuminate a figure on the floor. The group took in a collective gasp as they all spotted the shape.
“Marlene? Marlene, can you hear me?” Graeme called out.
Sandy watched the scene unfold with dread in her stomach.
The dagger in Marlene’s back told her that Marlene wouldn’t be responding to Graeme’s questions.
6
The scene was chaos.
Chaos in the dark.
Sandy watched as the flashlight remained on Marlene’s lifeless body and her family wailed, lay down beside her on the floor, and demanded an explanation. Priscilla fainted.
Graeme attempted to ring for help but found, as Devon had earlier, that there was no phone signal within the castle.
“Someone needs to take charge.” Sandy whispered to Tom.
“I have to get out of here.” Priscilla, conscious again, cried. “Teddy, let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Teddy said. “I can’t leave her.”
“Well, I have to get some fresh air. My therapist says I can’t be in high stress situations.”
“Wait.” Sandy said, the authority in her voice surprising nobody more than herself. “This is a murder scene. We’re all witnesses. We can’t leave until the police arrive.”
“The police won’t ever arrive if we can’t get cell service.” Devon said. Her voice was easy to pick out in the dark as her accent wasn’t the same as the others’. She wasn’t from the Deep South.
“Are you a cop?” One of the men asked.
“No.” Sandy said. “I’m like a, a detective. A private investigator.”
“Well you’d better investigate, then. Whoever did this to my mother needs to pay!” Teddy said, his voice catching on emotion.
“Graeme, I believe I can manage this situation until we can make contact with the police.”
“Be my guest.” Graeme said, eager to hand the responsibility over to someone else.
“Okay. Can I get everyone’s attention? Graeme, move the torch, please. Thank you. My name is Sandy Shaw, and I’m going to be in charge until we can get help. I need everyone to stay calm.”
“Calm?!” Priscilla shrieked.
“Graeme, we need a space where everyone can sit, and a small space where I can interview people individually.”
“Interview? Woah, I know my rights, I won’t speak without a lawyer.” A young voice called out from the darkness.
“Enough.” An older male voice chided.
“We can go to the drawing room. There’s seating in there for visitors.” Graeme said.
“Lead the way.” Sandy said, her authority surprising her.
“Be careful, Sand. One of those Americans is a murderer.” Tom whispered in her ear. Sandy felt a shiver run through her body as she realised he was right. She had dealt with murder cases before, but never in such a closed environment. She was in a party of ten, including herself and Tom, and one of them was a killer.
“Stay close together.” She called as the followed the light. She gripped onto Tom’s hand and realised how grateful she was for the spooks she had felt earlier; they meant she could rule Tom out as a suspect straight away as he’d been holding her hand the whole time.
“Ok, this is the drawing room. You can sit on any chairs on this side of the roped area.” Graeme explained as he switched off the torch. The drawing room had large windows that let in plenty of daylight. The room was divided into two sides by a thick velvet rope that marked the right-hand side of the room as out of bounds. The left side featured a row of chairs below the windows.
Sandy watched the tour party, eager to see their reactions in daylight. Priscilla had collapsed into a chair and was popping tablets from a foil pack, which she downed with a swig of bottled water. Teddy appeared disinterested in her dramatics, choosing instead to pace the length of the room. Sandy noticed huge damp patches around his armpits and on the back of his shirt, making it stick to his body.
Devon had an arm draped around Trixie, the other arm outstretched into the air as she attempted to get signal on her phone. She noticed Sandy watching her and shook her head.
“One of us needs to go outside to get service.” She said.
Sandy nodded. “Tom, can you go out and call the police.”
Tom looked at her carefully, reluctant to leave her in the presence of a killer.
“Please.” She urged. She couldn’t ask anyone else, and she didn’t want to go herself and miss vital moments of assessing each person’s reaction.
Jeff, the quiet son with the bald head, had taken a seat and was gazing blankly ahead into the distance. Curly-haired Eli, and his son Hamm, sat next to each other in silence.
And Graeme O’Connell appeared to be among the most jittery of the group. He stood by the velvet rope, as if guarding it from intruders, furiously biting the skin around his thumb nail. His left foot tapped rhymthically on the stone floor.
“I know you must all be in shock.” Sandy addressed the group. She pulled her notebook and pen from her handbag. “But there’s valuable information we need to gather right away. I need you all to give me some information about Marlene. What was her full name?”
“McVeigh.” Devon offered. “Marlene McVeigh.”
“And you’re all related to her, is that right?”
Teddy nodded as he paced past Sandy.
The door at the far end of the room opened and Tom appeared. “Mainland police will come out as soon as they can but the waters are choppy, no boats are leaving Oban.”
Sandy’s heart sank. “There’s no police on the island?”
Tom shrugged. “I got through to Oban. We need to sit tight until they can get across. They say a storm’s coming in.”
“Okay.” Sandy said. “I’m going to gather some initial information and then start interviews. Nobody can leave this room, apart from coming with me for interview, until the police arrive.”
“I have to
be on a 10pm plane.” Devon said.
“You’re going home today?” Sandy asked the group.
“Just mum.” Trixie said, her voice soft and quiet. The scared voice of a child.
“You’ll be fine Trix, dad will be here.” Devon said.
“You won’t be on that plane.” Sandy said. “The police won’t let anyone leave until full interviews have been done.”
“Look.” Devon said. “What’s happened here is clearly awful, but I have things to do. I must be in the States tomorrow.”
“Devon, please.” Teddy said, his cheeks red and damp from his tears. “Your damn work will wait. Have some thought.”
Devon’s cheeks flushed.
“So, I think what we have here is Marlene’s three sons, two daughters-in-law and two grandchildren. Right?”
It was Trixie who nodded.
“Are there any other relatives on this holiday?” Sandy asked, curious about the absence of the third daughter-in-law.
“No, this is all our family.” Teddy said, then began to cry again. “This was all our family.”
“It wasn’t all my family.” The teenage boy said. “You all think she’s just disappeared since the divorce but she still exists.”
“Your mum?” Sandy asked.
He nodded.
“Meghan and I divorced recently.” Eli explained. “It’s still very raw.”
Sandy nodded and noted the name on her notepad. “Where is Meghan?”
“She lives in South Carolina.”
“In a trailer.” The teenage boy muttered.
“It’s not a trailer, Hamm. Geeze, if your mom wants to live in a big house again she might have to go out and get a job.”
“Hamm?” Sandy asked. “Is that your name?”
The teenage boy nodded. “She’s got a job, dad. Unlike some people.”
“I’ve had enough of your attitude!” Teddy shouted. He paced across to Hamm and glared in his direction.
“Leave him alone.” Eli said. He rose to his feet and it was clear that he would be the winner if there was a fight. He was taller, with a more stocky build. Teddy shook his head and moved away, returning to pacing.
“Was there a special reason for this holiday?” Sandy asked.
“We have roots here.” Teddy said, his voice unsteady from the confrontation. “Mom was tracing the family tree and wanted us all to come across here and see where we’re from.”
“Tom?” Sandy called. He walked closer to her. She whispered in his ear. “Go back outside and see if you can find anything out online about Marlene McVeigh.”
He nodded and left the room.
“I’m going to start interviewing people one by one soon. Where would be a good space for that, Graeme?”
“There’s a small room next door that the staff use as an office.” Graeme said. He began to walk towards the door.
“Wait.” Sandy called.
He spun on his heels and looked at her quizzically.
“Nobody leaves this room, that includes you.”
“But…”
“No exceptions. Tom will watch everyone in here while I interview in the other room.”
Silence descended across the room and Sandy returned to observing.
Trixie had begun to cry, her sobs muffled into her mother’s chest as she clung to Devon, who rubbed her back and kissed her head. Jeff continued to stare into space ahead.
Eli and Hamm still sat together, their crossed arms mirroring each other, their expressions blank.
Priscilla had fallen asleep in her chair, a hand covered her eyes and forehead as if she wanted to block out the world.
Teddy continued to pace, but had begun to mutter under his breath as he did.
The door opened and Tom reappeared.
He held up his phone, where he had taken a photo of an online news report for Sandy to see.
“Wow.” She breathed as she read the headline.
“We have motive.” Tom whispered.
7
“Teddy, come with me please.” Sandy said. Her request stopped him in his tracks and his face blanched. “Everyone else, stay right here. Tom will watch everyone while I’m gone.”
Tom eyed her anxiously but she chose to ignore him. Her stomach was sick with butterflies, but she ignored them and walked side by side with Teddy into the small office room.
The room featured a small desk with a chair at each side, and a computer that looked as old as the castle itself. She took the seat closest to the door and laid her notebook and pen on the desk. Teddy hovered near her.
“I’ll need you to sit down, please.” She commanded.
He did.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She said. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you right now, but it’s really important that we gather as much as we can to help the police. I’m sure you want the person who did this to be caught and punished.”
Teddy shook his head and burst into tears again. “I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t stop seeing her, on the floor…”
“Let’s start with some easier questions. You’re Teddy McVeigh?”
“Theodore. Everyone calls me Teddy.”
“And Priscilla is your wife?”
He nodded.
“She’s taking it hard. Was she close to your mum?”
“She takes everything hard.” Teddy said. “She isn’t very strong.”
“Okay.” Sandy said, making notes on her paper. Luckily, her handwriting was so bad she knew nobody else would be able to make out what her scribbles meant. “It’s not cheap coming across here from America, you must have a good job I’m guessing.”
“I have a great job.” Teddy said with a smile. “It just doesn’t pay any money.”
“Oh?”
“I’m an artist.” He declared. “I paint portraits mainly, watercolour but sometimes oils. I can do landscapes. I have to follow my muse, I can’t just paint to order like some hacks do. The inspiration calls and I obey.”
“How do you survive if that doesn’t pay?”
Teddy smiled. “Oh, I have a generous allowance.”
“Allowance?” Sandy asked. To her English roots, allowance meant pocket money. And Teddy certainly wasn’t a kid. “What does that mean?”
“Oh!” Teddy exclaimed. “Two nations separated by a common language! Well, it’s money from a benefactor, I suppose. Anyone who wants to support your work can give you an allowance so that you don’t have to lower yourself and work in a cafe or something.”
“Imagine that.” Sandy quipped. “So you have a benefactor. Who is that?”
“My mother, of course.” Teddy said. “She’s my biggest fan.”
“Okay. So your mum gave you a lump sum or regular payments?”
“An allowance every month.” Teddy said. “It’s not much, not when you think how much she has, but it let me focus on my painting.”
“Your mum was wealthy, then?” Sandy asked, although she had already discovered that from the online article which declared her to the wealthiest woman in the state of South Carolina, and gave a motive for her to be killed.
“Oh she was more than wealthy.” Teddy said, and his eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion. Envy?
“Does Priscilla work?”
“No.” Teddy said. His voice faltered. “She’s not really been very well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What’s been wrong with her?”
“She’s such a delicate flower. And one day I’ll be running for office, so she’ll need to be at home to support me with that. It’s probably not worth her getting a job.”
“Office?”
“Politics, ya know? I’ve always wanted to make a difference to the world.”
“Interesting.” Sandy said. “Are you involved in politics now?”
“Goodness no, it costs so much money to run. I was waiting for my big break.”
Sandy noted the past tense and wrote it down.
“Tell me about your relationship
with your mum?”
“She’s my best friend.” Teddy said. “I tell her everything. I only moved out because Priscilla insisted on it last year. I’d quite happily still be in the McMansion, eating breakfast on the balcony with her. It was a good life.”
“The McMansion?”
“Oh!” Teddy said. “I forget we’re not back home. Everyone knows the McMansion. That’s what we nickname mom’s house.”
“It’s a mansion, I take it?”
“Kind of. It’s a plantation house. Here, I have some photos.” Teddy said. He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket and flicked through images until he came to one, which he held up and showed Sandy. It was a beautiful three-level house with a green roof and a grand outdoor staircase leading to a wraparound balcony on the second floor. It was in the middle of a lush green lawn and nestled between what looked like cedar trees. It was certainly big enough to warrant the mansion nickname.
“That’s beautiful.” Sandy said.
Teddy shrugged. “Priscilla hates it. I don’t know why she tried to compete with my mom, there was no need. She was never going to win.”
Sandy nodded. “You two really were that close?”
“Of course. That woman did everything for me. She gave me everything I ever wished for. Aren’t you close to your mom like that?”
The question stung and Sandy had to take a moment to compose herself. “My mum died when I was young.”
“You poor girl.” Teddy said.
“Thank you.” Sandy said. “So, who do you think did it?”
Teddy sat back in his chair, distancing himself from the question. Sandy had planned to ask each person the same question, and at the point when they would least expect it.
“I don’t have a damn clue.” Teddy said.
“Really? There’s no black sheep of the family?”
“The black sheep of the family? That’s probably me.” He admitted.
“In what way?”
“Not working, not practical like mom, no children. And I know the others talk. They talk about Priscilla.”