Dark of Night

by Oliver Davies

  He drank off his tea and put his cup down, looking rather vexed at the memory. “Naturally, I went to see Gareth about it, and he told me he didn’t think that could be possible, because the farm was already in the Land Register, and he didn’t see how the Keepers could have overlooked an error like that. He said that they’d have sent all the paperwork back for correction and made him submit them again, after they’d been properly amended. His daughter Mary got a bit upset and asked if I was accusing them of stealing and I was just mortified. I would never have blamed any of them for the confusion. I told her that, and Gareth became quite annoyed with her for suggesting that I was. When I got home, I called my solicitor and gave him a piece of my mind.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “The silly ass had everything checked again, by an expert in Edinburgh this time, and discovered that he’d completely overlooked the sale of that particular piece of land. I went to tell the Ramsays and apologised again, and Gareth laughed it off as ‘typical lawyer nonsense’. He suggested I demand a refund on their fee, and I said that the firm would probably bankrupt me before they were done arguing about it, because they’d bill me by the hour for that too. That made him laugh. At least Mary wasn’t angry with me anymore, and Gareth just acted like it had never happened after that.” I looked at Caitlin, and she nodded, ever so slightly. We both agreed then. There was nothing else I wanted to ask Douglas today. We stood, and Caitlin pocketed her notebook and pen.

  “That seems to be all the questions we have for you just now Mr Kerr. Thank you for giving us so much of your time, and for the tea. Perhaps you could take us to see your niece now?”

  Seven

  Caitlin

  As I followed Conall and Douglas Kerr to the library, I couldn’t forget those moments back there, when Conall had seemed to shut down in front of us, just after the housekeeper had said that line about solitary survivor’s cracking up sometimes, going out of their minds with grief. I’d honestly been a bit worried for a minute; the look on his face. I had no idea what that was about, but I suspected that it had made him remember some awful case that he’d tried not to think about ever since, something really upsetting.

  Conall had no idea just how good he was at getting people to talk to him. He had a knack of changing his tone, saying exactly the right things in the right way to put them at their ease, get them to open up. He was better at that than I would ever be, but he seemed to think I’d be his boss by now if I hadn’t decided that climbing the career ladder any higher would do me more mental harm than financial good. He could be such a clueless galoot sometimes, but usually only if it was anything about him or someone close to him, his only blind spots.

  He honestly didn’t even realise how attractive he was either. Not my type and I would never date a policeman anyway, let alone my partner/boss but, objectively, the man was a handsome devil by anyone’s standards. I didn’t understand how he couldn’t judge that correctly himself, and I was convinced by then that it wasn’t false modesty. In our line of work, you train your mind to notice inconsistencies in a person’s behaviour - and there just weren’t any, not on that score anyway. Eventually, I’d just had to accept it as genuine.

  I was already very fond of Conall. That ‘honorary big sister’ jab had been too close to the bone for comfort. It made me realise that yes, it was sort of like that, what I felt about him: proud as punch of his brilliance and ready to smash in the head of anyone who ever tried to hurt him. How had I become so attached in such a short time? He hadn’t even been here two years yet. It was different with him. I knew he liked me, thought we worked really well together, enjoyed my company at the gym or on work night’s out, when we could all relax and have a proper laugh. But that wasn’t the same depth of affection at all and sometimes, because of that imbalance, I misjudged where the line was, like earlier, and I’d disappoint him, and regret opening my stupid mouth. Luckily, he was clueless about how attached I’d become, because, being Conall, he couldn’t even begin to imagine why or how I would, to him of all people.

  The library, it turned out, was up on the first floor right at the toe end of the L shape, which, from the forecourt where we’d parked up, had stretched away from us on the left side of the Manor house. We got there eventually. The door was a big, arched, oaken thing with bars of black ironwork clamping the thick planks together at eye and shin level. You had to lift and turn a big ring, also black ironwork, to release the catch. A door like that, you’d think, should open onto torchlit stone stairs down to a dungeon or up into a tower. I liked it, though.

  After he’d opened the door, Douglas led us into a room twice the size of the drawing room where we’d sipped tea and eaten yummy little cakes, and the library stretched much higher than even that high-ceilinged room had. There was a mezzanine level, a gallery running around the other three walls, with steep wooden staircases to reach it on both sides, to our left and to our right. There were tall bookshelves all the way around the gallery, and a waist-high wooden barrier around the edge, solid wooden posts topped by a smoothly polished handrail. More bookshelves were spaced along the walls down here, and there was an area with easy chairs around a low table as well as a few free-standing stacks, with desks between them, running down the left side of the room.

  Another pair of those full-length curtains covered most of the wall opposite us, covering the windows. All the light in the room came from wall lanterns and ceiling fixtures, but there were plenty of those. The room was surprisingly and pleasantly warm, given its dimensions and I wondered where the heat was coming from, because the big stone hearth to my right was clean and occupied by a really big old vase. And by really big, I mean I could probably have climbed in and hidden inside it. It was chipped and cracked and made of a dull, sandy coloured clay.

  “Is that Amphora Cretan?” I heard Conall ask as he spotted it and stopped dead in his tracks. “It looks just like the ones from Knossos.”

  “We think it probably is,” a light voice told him as a young woman appeared from behind one of the stacks. She must have heard the door creak open and got up to see who it was, to appear so quickly now.

  She was a very pretty, young woman, I decided quickly, certainly a good seven and maybe even an eight, even without any makeup on, because she definitely wasn’t wearing any just then. I could tell. She had long curling golden yellow hair, and large pale blue eyes set in a fine-boned face. If her nose had been a smidge shorter and her lips a smidge fuller, she’d have been a real stunner. It’s funny how tiny details like that can make such a big difference to someone’s level of attractiveness. She was simply dressed, in a tatty black jumper and skinny jeans, old hiking boots on her feet. Good figure. “I believe a family member acquired it from a little place in Sicily, back in the 1890s. It was the kind of thing that the privileged classes did in those days,” she noted.

  Conall had glanced at her over his shoulder briefly, when her voice had startled him, but his eyes had gone back to the vase, as if he were examining it carefully for some reason. “Well, someone would probably have accidentally smashed it by now anyway, if it had stayed where they found it. And it’s not the kind of antiquity anyone would raise a fuss about, the Greeks have plenty of them left,” he commented, after a few more moments of study.

  “I’m glad you realise that, Inspector,” Douglas said, smiling, “We wouldn’t want to get into trouble over it. Believe me, if I thought it should be in a museum, then I would have given it to one.”

  “Yes, of course.” Conall seemed to have lost all interest in the vase. He turned to the girl. “Miss Jessica Kerr? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I stifled the urge to giggle at the polite but flat way he delivered the phrase, as if reciting from a tired script, badly. She seemed a little taken aback by his blank gaze, as if she was accustomed to more appreciative appraisals.

  “This is Inspector Keane, from The Inverness police, dear,” Douglas told her. “And Sergeant Murray. They are the bearers of bad news I’m afraid. Our
neighbour, Douglas Ramsay, has been killed.”

  “Oh! How dreadful? I’m so sorry to hear that.” She squeezed her uncle’s arm sympathetically. “You must be very upset. You always spoke so highly of him. Was it one of those awful accidents with farm machinery or something?”

  “No, dear. It rather looks like somebody did it on purpose.”

  She paled instantly, a disbelieving expression of horror on her face. “Somebody murdered Mr Ramsay? My God!” Douglas steadied her as she wobbled slightly. “Sorry,” she pulled herself together very quickly, “it’s just that things like that never happen here. It’s just so unexpected… and rather frightening.” She blinked a few times, then eased herself away from her uncle’s supporting arm. “You introduced me to him in the village, didn’t you, Uncle? He had his daughter and her little boy with him? They seemed like a very nice family.”

  “That’s right,” Douglas affirmed. “The village Summer Fete last year. I’d forgotten you’d come along to see how it was all going.” I noticed that Conall was looking thoughtful, staring at her quite intently now, a purely professional interest.

  “Is that the only time you ever met Mr Ramsay, Miss Kerr?” he asked her. “To speak with, I mean.”

  “Actually, no,” she admitted without hesitation, “but I hadn’t met him before that. We talked again, briefly, only a couple of weeks ago, actually. That was the second time we’d spoken… and the last now, of course. How terribly sad for his family. When my father died, mother and I didn’t cope very well and then, when mother was taken too, only a few years later…” She bit at her lower lip. “Well, I have a good idea of what they must be going through.”

  “Of course.” Conall nodded. “You have been in Mary’s position yourself.”

  “I was a total mess!” she snapped, quite sharply, as if she found his understanding tone offensive; as if no stranger should dare to presume they could imagine what it had been like for her. “I was an unattached, undergraduate freshman who hadn’t been in Edinburgh long enough to make close friends at college yet. I’m just so lucky that Uncle Douglas rushed straight down to look after me and let me fall to pieces on him. He took care of everything, the funeral arrangements, contacting the University about my classes and assignments - all those things you just can’t seem to deal with at the time because everything seems so pointless and stupid. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.” Her cheeks were flushed by the time she’d finished speaking.

  Douglas Kerr’s expression looked a bit like Conall’s had, when he’d had that weird moment earlier. It was a very diluted version of it though. His niece’s words had made him recall, too clearly for comfort, a painful period in their lives. Conall’s memory, whatever it had been, seemed to have ambushed and totally engulfed him.

  “You were stronger than you think, my dear girl. And doing what little I could to help you made it easier for me too. It gave me a useful purpose.” He assured his niece. Conall gave them a few moments to compose themselves again, until he judged it would not be inappropriate to press, and might even prevent any further awkwardness to do so.

  “What did you and Mr Ramsay speak about two weeks ago, Miss Kerr?” he asked her.

  “It was nothing much.” she managed to answer him quite calmly. “I’m afraid that two of my friends got a little lost when they went for a walk one afternoon and didn’t realise that they’d wandered off the estate until Mr Ramsay firmly asked them to leave his property. He came to see me the next day and asked me to make sure to warn them all not to cross the stream again. Something about disturbing the sheep, the pregnant ewes, they had penned down there. I apologised for the accidental intrusion, of course, and promised I’d make sure it didn’t happen again. He was really very polite and nice about it, not raising his voice or anything. After he’d left, I went up and got everyone together, and I told them about his visit. They all know, now, not to wander over there, and I asked them to make sure to pass it on if they brought anyone new to the place up when they visited.”

  “Did he mention what time this happened?” Conall asked.

  “No, but he said he’d seen them when he got up from an after-lunch nap. So after two, I’d say, and while it was still light out.”

  “Who were the two who were on the Ramsay farm?” Jessica looked a bit taken aback by the question. I could guess what she was thinking. Surely we didn’t think any of that could be connected to someone killing Mr Ramsay? That was ridiculous!

  “I don’t know.” she admitted, “He didn’t describe them, and nobody owned up. I suppose they were worried they might be asked to leave if they did, because I’d said that’s what would happen if anyone did it again.”

  “No matter,” Conall assured her. “We’ll have to talk to them all, anyway. What date did Mr Ramsay come to see you?” She hesitated, looking thoughtful, as if she couldn’t pin it down easily, so Conall gave her a helpful verbal nudge. “I’m thinking that your Uncle must have been out at the time, or he’d have wanted to apologise to Mr Ramsay for the intrusion himself? Does that help jog your memory?”

  “It’s true I don’t get out much these days, Jessica,” Douglas said cheerily, “We should be able to figure it out. Was it morning or afternoon when he called by?”

  “It was in the morning, because I’d taken my breakfast back to my room so I could finish the essay I was working on while I ate. I heard him knocking when I took my dishes back down because I wanted to make a hot drink and take a break. I suppose that was at about eleven.”

  Douglas beamed at her. “My doctor’s appointment in town! That was on Monday the fifth. That was the only morning I’ve been out at that time of day recently.” I was flicking my gaze between my notes and the Kerrs and Conall while they all talked, because I was trying to figure out why Conall was looking at the girl as if he sensed something off about her, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  “Yes, you’re right, Uncle,” Jessica agreed. “So, they must have wandered onto the farm on Sunday afternoon, on the fourth.”

  Conall smiled then, his first for a while. “Well, that’s got the date pinned down nicely, thank you both. It may prove to be helpful to us, if nobody wants to own up to the accidental trespass. After all, it’s one thing to keep quiet about making a silly mistake when it doesn’t seem very important but, well, I’m running a criminal investigation now. I’m sure your friends will understand how serious this all is and be very co-operative in answering any questions we may have, Miss Kerr.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they will.” Personally, I didn’t think she was so certain about that myself, not from the way she said it.

  “Well, now that we’ve settled that little issue satisfactorily, I should tell you that your uncle was kind enough to offer us your services as a guide earlier, Miss Kerr,” Conall told her then. “We came in here to see if you might be free to come with us now and show us how to reach the camp by car please?” And he smiled again, pleasantly,

  “Now?” she said doubtfully, as if she had something she’d rather be doing. She looked at her uncle, who was confidently smiling at her, sure she would want to help. “I, yes, of course. My work here isn’t anything pressing. I’ll be happy to take you up there.” Douglas showed Conall and I out by a handy side door while Jessica went off to fetch a jacket. We headed back to our car. The wind had dropped a bit, but it was starting to spit.

  “Something bothering you about the girl?” I asked him.

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “She obviously doesn’t believe that any of her friends could have anything to do with our case, but something’s worrying her, making her nervous.”

  “A killer on the loose can have that effect,” I suggested, but he shook his head.

  “That thought really scared her. That was genuine enough. But I think there’s something else bothering her.” He ran a hand over his scalp, smoothing his hair down a bit, or trying to. He shrugged. “Knowing students, they’re probably all smoking weed up there or something, and she doesn’t wa
nt us to catch them at it.”

  I snorted. “I’d rather deal with a dozy pothead than an aggressive drunk any day of the week. What’s the worst we’d do? Confiscate their stash?” And then Jessica came out, all bundled up now, so we couldn’t speculate together after that. I saw her safely into the back seat and climbed in the front, then we headed off for the camp.

  Eight

  Shay

  I was lounging about on the sofa feeling bored, restless and totally fed up with my own company when Conall called that morning. I was lying there, eyes closed, feet up, and my hands cushioning the back of my head, checking over the last bit of code I’d written. I’d eventually got so fed up with staring at the screen earlier that I had to make myself step away from the computer before I did something impulsively stupid. - like book myself a flight abroad somewhere, anywhere, and just disappear for a bit.

  I’d been told though, hadn’t I? Any more stunts like my last one would not be taken lightly. All the concessions I’d fought tooth and nail for might need to be reconsidered, my top-drawer clearances revoked. Smug bastards! I could just tell them to go fuc… well, you know, in one language after another, but then I’d never get to go and help Conall out, whenever he asked me to. It would give them an intolerable axe to hang over my head if they caught me at it.

  I’d eventually accepted that the current agreement I’d managed to wrangle with what I called ‘The Invisible Division’ mysteriously attached to SEJD (The Scottish Executive Justice Department), was the best I could hope for. Their psych evaluations were a joke! It had been dead easy to lead them to draw the conclusions I’d been angling for: “The subject may become mentally unstable and unfit for work if pushed too far. Grant requested dispensation if continued assistance is considered invaluable.” Hah!