Human Face

by Aline Templeton

  ‘Of course, though I doubt if I can be of much help. We’ll go in this way.’ He went round to the side of the house where a little patio led to open French doors. ‘Come in and sit down. Coffee?’

  He was quite a good-looking man, in his late forties, Strang guessed; not tall but strongly built and fit-looking, not carrying an ounce of excess weight. His mouth was ugly, though, when he wasn’t actually smiling, thin-lipped and turned down at the corners, and there were strong frown marks between his dark brows. Though he was smiling now, his eyes were cold.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Strang nodded to Murray to take out her notebook. ‘What was Ms Havel’s position in the household?’

  Carnegie had gone to pour himself out a mug of coffee from a very fancy machine on a unit that neatly divided what looked like a designer kitchen from the expensively furnished sitting room: sleek cream leather sofas on either side of the fireplace, a large oriental rug on top of the pale fitted carpet, a dark polished wood desk in the window, a huge TV and a couple of good modern prints on the walls.

  ‘Position?’ Carnegie said. ‘She didn’t exactly have a position, Inspector. She was my girlfriend.’

  Murray looked up, opened her mouth to speak then thought the better of it. Strang said, ‘Oh? She was described to me as the housekeeper.’

  Carnegie brought over his coffee and sat on the sofa opposite and the dog lay down at his feet. ‘Well, we tended to say that. The village is not, shall we say, terribly sophisticated when it comes to modern morals.’ He sounded amused.

  ‘So – no papers, no employment contract?’

  Carnegie didn’t like that. ‘Do you give your girlfriends a contract, Inspector? Oh, sorry, I beg your pardon. I see you’re a married man.’

  God, that hurt. It took him all his strength not to gasp. There was a fraction of a beat too long before he managed to say, ‘What nationality was Ms Havel?’

  ‘Polish, I believe. Or so she said.’

  ‘Like Mr Kaczka?’

  That took him aback. ‘Oh – oh yes, that’s right. And before you ask, I do have employment papers for him.’

  ‘They must have enjoyed having a fellow Pole to talk to.’

  ‘Perhaps they might. I don’t know. Their paths didn’t cross very much.’ Carnegie moved restlessly and the dog sat up. ‘Look, I really can’t help you about the day Eva left. I had no idea she was planning to go, but apparently there was a young man in the village that she’d been meeting behind my back. I’m away a lot on business, you know. And as it happened, I was away – flew to Paris that afternoon. When I came back she was gone. The person you want to talk to is Beatrice Lacey – she saw her packing.’

  ‘We’ll speak to her later. So – how did you feel about being dumped?’

  Carnegie gave a short laugh. ‘Indifferent, to be honest. She was obviously tired of me and I was tired of her too. It was never going to be a long-term relationship.’

  ‘You seem to have had a number of “housekeepers”, or girlfriends, if you prefer.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said flatly.

  ‘All foreign?’

  ‘I like foreign girls. You should try that sometime, Inspector – oh, sorry, but perhaps your wife is broad-minded?’

  That was deliberate. He had spotted Strang’s reaction to the mention of his wife and he was probing. It hurt again and Strang hesitated briefly.

  Murray seized the opportunity to jump in. ‘Where do you meet them all? Not a lot of them around here.’

  Neither man seemed to welcome her interjection. Strang gave her a cool look and Carnegie scowled at her, as if she’d interrupted a private conversation or come between the foils in a fencing match. ‘If it’s any of your business, I am abroad at international conferences quite frequently.’

  Strang returned to the fray. ‘And have they all been “Polish”?’ He made the inverted commas obvious.

  Carnegie did not rise to the bait. ‘No.’

  Time to bring out the big guns. ‘Did any of your other girlfriends just disappear?’ He fixed his eyes intently on Carnegie’s face and saw his sudden wariness.

  Only for a second, though. The man bent over to stroke the dog at his feet then said smoothly, ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Veruschka.’

  The name dropped into the conversation like a stone. Carnegie seemed almost stunned. ‘Veruschka?’ he said slowly.

  ‘You seem very uncomfortable about that. What happened to her?’

  ‘Uncomfortable? No, just surprised. It was years ago – to be honest, I’d forgotten all about her.’ He was definitely rattled, fighting to regain his composure. ‘We’d been together for a few months and one day she decided to move on. Fair enough – I had no problem with that.’

  It was tempting to go down that track but so far Strang wasn’t here to investigate Veruschka, whoever she might be, so he only said, ‘You don’t seem to be awfully lucky in love, Mr Carnegie. You must suffer a certain amount of wounded pride.’

  That got to him, as he had guessed it would. His lips tightened, though he said lightly, ‘Who’s talking about love, Inspector?’

  ‘Anyway, at the moment I’m interested in Eva Havel. Did she have any family connections, here or back in Poland?’

  ‘I haven’t the slightest idea. We didn’t talk about that.’ He gave a little, suggestive smirk. ‘To be brutally honest, Inspector, we didn’t talk much at all. I didn’t bring her here for the charm of her conversation.’

  It was a pity there was a prejudice in the police force against giving someone a punch in the face just because that was what they were asking for. Strang got up. ‘That’s all – at least for the moment. Thank you for your time. Perhaps we could speak to Miss Lacey since you seem to think she knows more about it than you do.’

  ‘Of course.’ He stood up, with a signal to the dog to stay, then led them out into the front hall. A man was coming through from a door under the stairs, a man who stopped dead when he saw them.

  Carnegie greeted him, ‘Looking for me, Harry? I’ll be with you in just a moment.’ Then he turned to Strang. ‘This is my partner, Harry Drummond. I don’t think he can help you over Eva’s departure – he only arrived here after she’d gone. I doubt if you ever had a conversation with her alone, did you?’

  Drummond was, like his partner, middle-aged and of middle height. His hair was dark and curly; he had very bright blue eyes and a small, mean mouth. ‘Can hardly even picture her,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  He went back the way he had come. Carnegie went across the hall and opened a door on the farther side. ‘Some people to speak to you, sweetie. It’s the fuzz – better be on your best behaviour.’

  He waved them through the door and left them.

  Beatrice Lacey felt as if the floor had opened beneath her. It seemed rude not to stand up and greet the policewoman and the man with her, who was presumably a detective, but she wasn’t sure that if she did her legs would hold her up. Instead, she gestured towards the two seats that stood beside her desk as PC Murray reminded her that they’d met before and introduced Detective Inspector Strang.

  ‘Would you like to sit down? Is this about Eva again? I told you everything I could already.’ She managed to inject a note of irritation into her voice.

  The detective had a penetrating gaze and he was looking at her now in a way that made her feel he could see right through her, through to all the sleep-troubling secrets. What did he know? Could she mount a defence against whatever he was going to ask her? She wasn’t a good liar. She was beginning to hyperventilate, and he had noticed.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Miss Lacey,’ he said. He had a very attractive voice, quite deep and rich, and he sounded sympathetic. ‘I know that it’s a bit intimidating when the police march in but all I want is to hear for myself what happened the day that Eva Havel left.’

  Beatrice licked dry lips. ‘I was actually away most of that day. I had to go down to Oban to check on an order and I only saw her very briefly. I went into her room to tel
l her I’d be away and I saw she was packing. That’s all, really.’

  ‘You didn’t ask her why?’

  ‘It wasn’t my business.’

  ‘And you didn’t mention it to Mr Carnegie?’

  ‘He’s a busy man. He was just on his way to Paris for a conference and I didn’t want to worry him.’

  ‘Had there been any rows between them, to your knowledge?’

  ‘None at all.’ She was firm on that. ‘I couldn’t see any reason why she should want to leave, but—’ She shrugged.

  ‘Was he upset when he found she had left?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Beatrice said contemptuously. ‘Their relationship – it didn’t mean anything. She was just a – a temporary distraction for Adam. Nothing to do with his true feelings.’

  ‘Which are?’

  Oh dear God, he was looking at her and she knew she was blushing. ‘You’d – you’d have to ask him,’ she said feebly.

  ‘You suggested to my colleague that Ms Havel might have been involved with other young men apart from Mr Tennant, who contacted us about her disappearance. Was there anyone you had in mind?’

  ‘Well, no, not exactly. It was just – well, she had that sort of manner, I suppose. The sort who would encourage …well, you know.’ She was getting flustered, and she wasn’t even at the difficult bit yet.

  ‘She never mentioned anyone to you?’

  ‘No. We weren’t really on terms like that.’

  ‘I see.’

  He had paused. She braced herself for questions about Adam’s movements, but instead he asked her about her position here and she seized on that with relief.

  ‘I’m the charity’s patron, Inspector. I christened it – Blake, you know?’ She saw him nod and went on, ‘I do the administration that keeps it going so that Adam can get on with his vital work.’

  Much happier now, she expounded on the aims and achievements of the charity, her eyes shining with fervour. ‘And of course none of this could happen without Adam. He’s a wonderful, wonderful man.’

  She’d let herself get carried away – too much so. The inspector was looking at her very thoughtfully.

  ‘Mr Carnegie was away in Paris the day Ms Havel left – is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She had managed to say it. If he left it at that, everything would be all right. And they were getting up, asking where to find Vicky Macdonald …

  ‘By the way,’ he said as he reached the door, ‘do you remember someone called Veruschka?’

  The cold horror of the question, she thought later, must have put her into shock. Beatrice heard her own voice saying quite calmly, ‘Veruschka? Oh yes, she was here a few years ago. Always very unsettled, I remember – I wasn’t surprised when she went.’

  It seemed to satisfy him. They left, and she was able to slump across her desk, feeling her heart beating so hard that it felt as if it might burst out of her chest. But she’d got through it. Perhaps she wasn’t as bad a liar as she had thought.

  The contrast between Adam Carnegie’s designer kitchen and the dingy kitchen where Strang and Murray found Vicky Macdonald was stark. Here it looked as if nothing had been done in the past thirty years: a scrubbed wood table stood in the centre of the room, the walls were beige, the Formica units and surfaces were beige, the worn vinyl floor was beige and brown. The only touches of colour came from the bottle of lemon washing-up liquid and yellow rubber gloves by the stainless steel sink, a bright red tea towel and the vivid orange of the carrots she was chopping.

  There was a similar contrast in the reactions they provoked. Adam Carnegie had been hostile, Beatrice Lacey terrified; Vicky Macdonald was effusive.

  ‘Oh, Inspector, I’m so pleased to have a chance to talk to you! I’m sorry about last night—’

  Strang cut her off. ‘You clearly had something you were very keen to tell me. What was it?’

  Vicky hesitated. ‘It wasn’t exactly something I had to tell you – I wish it had been. I just wanted to stress that I don’t believe Eva would behave like this, telling Daniel to be ready waiting for her and then doing something else without explaining, without saying anything to me. She was a really nice person, honestly.’

  A willing witness without anything to say – this was undoubtedly disappointing. He said, ‘Do you actually know that there wasn’t anyone else she might have been involved with? Did she confide in you?’

  Vicky looked crestfallen. ‘Not really, no. I felt she was isolated here, needed a friend, and I tried to be one but her English wasn’t that good and I think she was a bit careful too about what she said – I guess she was probably here illegally.’

  ‘Were she and Mr Carnegie on good terms? Any rows, arguments?’

  She hesitated. ‘Not rows, no. But there was – well, an atmosphere. The relationship had definitely cooled and you didn’t see them together much any more and Eva seemed strained. But—’ She glanced at the kitchen door to make sure it was shut, then said, ‘I think there’s something going on just now. Beatrice is behaving as if she’s had advance notice that the sky’s going to fall and Adam and Harry keep shouting at each other. I really think you should investigate—’

  ‘At the moment I’m only concerned with Ms Havel’s disappearance,’ Strang said firmly. ‘You saw Miss Lacey and Mr Carnegie leave before you did – is that right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So she was alone in the house?’

  She nodded again. Then she burst out, ‘Oh, you’re not going to take it seriously, are you? You’re just going to repeat the line that she was a grown-up woman—’

  ‘We’re taking it seriously enough for me to have come up from Edinburgh to investigate and I am interviewing everyone who might have information. I am keeping an open mind, I assure you.’

  ‘Talk to Daniel Tennant,’ she urged.

  ‘I had thought of that.’ He tried not to sound sarcastic. ‘I spoke to Murdo John Macdonald – your husband?’

  ‘Yes. But he won’t have told you anything useful. He thinks she just left.’

  She sounded bitter. Domestic friction? Well, that wasn’t any of his business. He went on, ‘How long have you lived here, Mrs Macdonald?’

  ‘I came here on holiday two, almost three years ago, then got a job waitressing. I married Murdo John about a year later.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t have known someone called Veruschka?’

  She looked blank. ‘No. Should I have?’

  ‘Your husband mentioned her. She was a housekeeper here a few years back and there was some story about her having disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared?’ A flush came to Vicky’s face. ‘And Murdo never told me about this?’ She was wringing her hands. ‘Inspector, I beg you – you’ve got to find out what happened to Eva! There’s something wrong here, there really is. Adam Carnegie—’ She stopped.

  ‘Adam Carnegie?’ he prompted her.

  ‘Oh, I don’t suppose there’s anything you could really prove against him. I just have a feeling about him.’ She gave a little shrug that somehow turned into a shudder.

  She was a nice, concerned lady and he admired her crusading spirit, but she was absolutely useless. ‘I’ll remember everything you’ve said,’ Strang assured her, getting up. ‘But I’ll get on my way now and hope to find Mr Tennant and see what he has to add.’

  Vicky thanked him but her tone was flat. She was clearly as disappointed in him as he had been in her.

  As they started out on the road back to Balnasheil, he turned to his silent shadow. ‘You’re very quiet. Any questions about the interviews?’

  ‘Didn’t think I was invited to ask – me being a humble plod.’

  He was annoyed by the chippy tone. ‘I don’t see it like that, Murray.’

  Her response was a slight shrug. ‘I got the idea you didn’t welcome my input – that I was just there to take notes.’

  ‘Yes, you were. It’s what a police constable does. I followed up the intervention you made in the Carnegie interview, but it wasn’t
a direction I had planned to take at that moment and it’s my job to shape the line it takes. It didn’t matter, as it happened, but it could be a distraction.

  ‘But you said you wanted to learn, so I’m asking you now – were there things you wondered about, things you thought I’d missed?’

  ‘No. No, there weren’t.’

  ‘So tell me – you’d interviewed Miss Lacey before. Did anything further emerge this time?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said grudgingly. ‘She’d do anything for him. She’s in love with him, isn’t she?’

  Strang thought of the woman’s ungainly body, her flat face with its muddy complexion and double chins. ‘Poor woman,’ he said. ‘Inevitable, of course. I’m sure he can be very charming.’

  ‘Charming?’ Murray looked at him in amazement. ‘Sleaze bucket. I was thinking of asking if I could have a quick bath before the next interview.’

  He smiled. ‘I was thinking more in terms of physical violence myself. But it looks as if the man wasn’t even there at the time when Eva left and it’s easy enough to check. So how do you assess the situation now, Murray?’

  For a moment she didn’t answer. Then she said, ‘To be honest, this stinks. But we’ve nothing to go on, so I still don’t see what we can do.’

  She might be irritating but she wasn’t stupid. ‘Yes,’ he said heavily. ‘I’ve got an unpleasant feeling that you’re right.’

  The door had barely shut behind him and Vicky was standing staring blankly at the carrots, thinking over what Strang had said, when it opened again and Adam Carnegie came in, smiling.

  ‘Seen them off, have you?’

  Vicky gave a feeble smile in return. ‘They were perfectly pleasant but I don’t think they’re taking it seriously.’

  ‘And you are?’ The smile became a little more fixed. ‘Oh, come on, Vicky! Eva was a very bright, vivacious girl – there might easily have been more than one young man hoping for her favours. She probably found it a bit dull over here when I’m away so much and I certainly don’t hold it against her – though I wish she’d left a note or something and saved us all being interrogated about something we knew nothing about.