I explained that her father was in hospital at the moment.
Anxious looks, murmurs, was it something catching? I felt that fears of the dreaded consumption haunted the middle class.
'He had an accident, nothing serious,' I lied. 'He will be delighted to know that I have seen Meg and he will certainly be pleased to know that she is to have such a lovely home with you.'
There wasn't much more to say and Mrs Blaker escorted me to the front door, with assurances that I must come again and any time.
As we shook hands, she said, 'You have no idea, Mrs McQuinn - having this lovely little girl at last means so very much to me.' She sighed. 'I can't believe it is going to happen at last, after these long years of waiting and hoping.' She frowned. 'We have been married five, nearly six years, you know, and we had lost hope of having a child of our own.'
'It could still happen.'
'You really think so?' she said anxiously.
I smiled politely but didn't add that Danny and I had been married ten years before a baby arrived.
I walked down the steps, glad to have met Meg and heartened by the awareness that I had somehow established a bond with Jack's child.
He would be pleased. But there were vague misgivings stirring, threatening confidence in the glowing future for Meg promised by the Blakers, and all this talk of adoption.
There was a reason for my unease and it had nothing to do with Meg. I kept remembering how Mr Blaker kept in the background, said little, and then I knew the reason why.
Piers was an unusual name and this was not our first encounter. A couple of years ago he had been involved in a particularly nasty and spiteful divorce action by one of my clients, who needed the services of a private investigator because of her own husband's high profile in Edinburgh society. Mr Blaker had been threatening to make matters worse by making public love letters sent by her.
It was not a comforting thought that one of Meg's prospective parents hid an unpleasant past as a blackmailer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Before I could go down to the hospital and console Jack with the outcome of my meeting with Meg, I had an unexpected visitor. I opened the front door to a distinguished silver-haired elderly gentleman.
He bowed, looking embarrassed. 'Pardon me for applying so vigorously to the doorbell, but it seems to be out of action.'
'A little rusty, I'm afraid.' Another of Jack's repairs for when he had time on his hands that wasn't urgently needed by the Edinburgh City Police. I was making up quite a list.
'I am Trevor Hayward,' said the newcomer. 'Is Mr Macmerry at home?'
'Not at present, I'm afraid. But do come inside.' So this was the librarian-cum-historian who I hoped was now going to produce Jack's map. As I introduced myself, he said, 'Ah, the young lady who left a message at my home.' He paused. 'Then you know why I am here. I apologise for the informality of the visit, but I had someone to see in Blacket Place and on impulse, to save a second journey, I took a chance on Mr Macmerry being at home ...'
So he was unaware that Jack was a detective. As I led the way across the Great Hall he looked around, shook his head and smiled. 'I have not set foot inside Solomon's Tower for many years. It belonged to an old friend - long before your time.' And with a rueful glance, 'He was a bachelor, and the house is much improved by a lady's hands, better than I ever remember it,' he added candidly.
Thinking of the doorbell that didn't work, creaking floorboards as well as an uncertain roof, I said, 'There is much work to be done, inside and out.'
He smiled. 'That is to be expected considering that it has been bravely standing here on Samson's Ribs facing all manner of weather for three hundred years.' Another wry glance. 'At least it does not smell of cats.'
Leading the way into the kitchen, I laughed. 'Now there is a very large dog.'
Thane was nowhere to be seen, absent on one of his daily forages.
'A species I much prefer. May I?' And laying his case on the kitchen table he opened it and took out the map Jack and I had found. 'This is definitely part of a rather crude map, a plan of battle manoeuvres. Note the roughly torn edges. Not giving away much helpful information I'm afraid, but my researches suggest that Mr Macmerry's theory was right and that it was drawn in 1745, possibly on the eve of the Battle of Prestonpans.'
Pausing, he looked at me and asked, 'How did Mr Macmerry come by it?'
Reluctant to mention the existence of a secret room, I said, 'Among some old junk in the upstairs regions. We thought it might have been left by a soldier or an officer from that time - billeted in the Tower.'
He rubbed his chin and said eagerly, 'That is a perfectly logical explanation. The prince, we are given to understand, was in a house in Duddingston. His highlanders camped hereabouts on Arthur's Seat, but presumably those in command might well have been billeted here.' Looking at me, he tapped the map. 'This, of course, is only speculation - a fragment of the original map on its own is merely of historic interest.' I decided to show him Mrs Lawers' piece of the map and the letters which I had brought down to study that morning, explaining that it had belonged to a lady recently deceased.
Eagerly he spread it out alongside Jack's map. I watched as he studied the two pieces minutely.
'There is certainly a similarity in the parchment - only an expert could tell if it was from the same roll.' He shook his head. 'If you look carefully, you will observe that the edges do not fit together and might well be from two different maps.'
Taking out a magnifying glass, he examined the edges and gave a nod of satisfaction. 'The similarity of the writing, however, illegible and faded as it is, suggests that these two pieces were part of a larger map, but for some reason, the middle section linking them together has been removed.'
Straightening up, he said, 'Why, or indeed by whom, is a mystery.' And shaking his head, 'Alas, I can tell Mr Macmerry no more than that, but I have a large collection of maps of the period - and if he would wish me to investigate further I will do this immediately and return with my deliberations.'
I did not want to part with Mrs Lawers' map, even knowing it would be in safe hands. I needed to discuss it all with Jack but time was short. Perhaps that missing section held the clue to Mrs Lawers' murder and for that I must leave no stone, or map, however improbable, unturned.
Mr Hayward was looking at me, obviously waiting for me to say 'Yes, please take it', and I did so.
He smiled, placing the two maps carefully in his case. 'Mr Macmerry may rest assured, they are in safe hands.'
I offered him tea, and in a mood to linger, he accepted. Sitting at the table, he looked round and asked, 'May I enquire how Mr Macmerry came by the Tower?'
'It doesn't belong to either of us. My stepbrother, Dr Laurie, was left it by a grateful patient, Sir Hedley Marsh.'
He gave me a look of triumph. 'My old friend!'
This was my chance to find out more about that formidable old man, who scared us as children playing on Arthur's Seat. When he emerged and shook his stick, that was enough to send us rushing away in mortal fear for our lives. No nightmare story or threat for disobedience from our housekeeper at Sheridan Place could equal the terror of the resident of Solomon's Tower.
Mr Hayward shook his head sadly and continued. 'Sir Hedley never married, you know. One of those tragic love affairs that went wrong. Heartbroken, never looked at another woman, all that sort of thing. Lonely and bitter, in a rare moment of confidence, he once told me that he believed his lost love had borne his child.'
I was astonished. Such a romantic story would never have fitted our youthful conceptions of this scary old man with all his cats.
Mr Hayward accepted a second cup of tea, and I remembered guiltily that although Vince had attended Sir Hedley during his last days, he had found it quite revolting, having always detested the old man; he recalled heading to the local golf course in his student days and taking the short cut past the Tower, and how, to his embarrassment and his friends' teasing, that wild demented
-looking creature would emerge from the front door and try to strike up a conversation with him.
Vince was furious. He used to shudder and tell us, 'It's as if he's always lying in wait for me. Oh, how I hate him!'
Mr Hayward had been looking at the family photographs on the dresser while I was preparing tea.
Touching one, he smiled, 'Your father, Mrs McQuinn? The legendary Chief Inspector Faro? Well, well.' The photograph was of Pappa and Vince taken at Balmoral Castle seated by the late Queen in her carriage.
I answered that in retirement my father spent a great deal of time abroad, fulfilling his dream of seeing the world at the end of a long and distinguished career with the Edinburgh City Police.
'A pity they don't make policemen of his calibre any more outside the pages of fiction,' said the historian. 'Just think what he could have achieved with all these advances in the science of crime detection unknown in the past century.' Pausing, he examined the photo closely. 'The elegant young man? Is he a member of the royal family?'
'No, that is my father's stepson Vince - the present owner of Solomon's Tower.'
'May I?' And rising from the table he took the photograph to the window and examined it in the better light. 'Remarkable,' he said, 'quite remarkable.'
He prepared to leave with promises to return the maps as soon as he could, the hope that his researches might uncover some important information.
Whatever his revelations, Jack would be delighted and I had an instinct that this was a man to be trusted, so as I handed him the two letters I realised that a further explanation was needed. 'As matter of fact, sir, I am a private investigator--'
His head jerked up and he chuckled. 'Well, bless my soul. I might have guessed that. Your father's daughter, eh? I beg your pardon, I interrupted you ...'
'These letters were included in the package with the map. The lady was a client and I believe they are of the same vintage as the map. Unfortunately, they are written in French, of which I have very little acquaintance.'
He studied them carefully and shook his head. 'The writing is fairly illegible and my French is also somewhat rusty these days. But I will be happy to have a look at them and perhaps find out if there is any possible connection.'
Leaving, he bowed. 'It has been a delight to make the acquaintance of such an illustrious member of the Faro family.'
Another bow. 'Please give my regards to Mr Macmerry, who I hope to meet on my next visit,' he added, either too polite or too disinterested in our connection for further comment. 'When is he likely to return?'
There was nothing else for it but to inform him that Mr Macmerry was in fact a detective inspector and at present in hospital following an accident while on duty.
He looked grave. 'Nothing of a serious nature, I trust.'
In return, I gave him the hearty assurance which I hoped was true and he smiled again. 'Then all is well. Excellent, excellent. And a detective? How interesting. I will look forward most eagerly to our meeting, since we have something in common. A lifetime of searching for clues, mine to the past and his to the present.'
And mine, I thought, to solving a mystery that had little concern with the Jacobites but all to do with the solution of a present-day murder just a mile away from where we stood.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Closing the door, I took out my bicycle and headed to the hospital, eager to tell Jack of the latest developments, not only regarding Meg, but also the possibility that the map from the secret room was part of the one in Mrs Lawers' legacy. That opportunity was to be nipped in the bud, for as I approached Jack's ward there were voices. Opening the door, I saw that he was sitting up in bed and he had a visitor.
I recognised that familiar voice and the familiar face that turned to greet me with a beaming smile.
Jack's father, farmer Andy Macmerry, jumped from his chair and gave me a great hug.
'Grand to see ye, lass. Got your letter this morning and his ma insisted that I come in and see the lad for ourselves. Jess is no' very great, a bit too frail for long travel these days.' And holding me at arm's length, 'Ye're looking just great, lass.'
Jack was watching all this, waiting for his turn in this exchange of greetings. I leant over, kissed him and he grinned.
'Good news, Rose. They're letting me out tomorrow if I behave myself. I'm so looking forward to seeing Meg. How is she?' he asked anxiously.
I said, 'She's fine, Jack. Such a lovely little girl, you'll be proud of her. And she's the very image of you.'
'That will do her no favours, poor lass.' A grimace, then he grinned and looked across at his father. 'I'll go and see her.'
'And I'll come with you, lad. I'm keen to meet this wee granddaughter I've heard so much about.'
I doubted that, looking at Jack, but I smiled anyway.
Andy put an arm around me. 'The lad's coming back home with me,' he said firmly. 'Just for a day or two - a wee rest. Get some good fresh Border air into his lungs, away from Auld Reekie. And some of his ma's cooking. He'll be right as rain in no time.'
Pausing to see how I was receiving all this, he patted my hand. 'I had a word with the surgeon mannie, and he says it's vital that the lad doesna' go rushing back to chasing criminals for a wee while.'
It took a little time for me to arrange my face at this news, and watching my expression, he added hastily, 'Why don't you come along. Just great to have you too, lass. You're always welcome and Jess is just longing to see you again. We both ken how busy ye are, what with one thing and another, but it's been a while now since your last visit ...'
That made me feel guilty - so often Jack went alone. But I knew the surgeon's recommendation was right, it was the best thing for him. If he came back to the Tower he would be restless at this forced inactivity, longing to get back on the job.
I had learnt through our years together that police business often sent him to Glasgow, Aberdeen or elsewhere. I could deal with that, but since his accident I realised how much I had missed him, longing to have him home again.
I looked at him sitting in that hospital bed and could not deny that the gunshot wound had taken a lot of his vitality - he certainly looked far from the strong detective inspector ready to deal with any emergency. He had lost weight; thin and worn, he certainly was not up to the rigours of Solomon's Tower with my indifferent cooking compared to his ma's sumptuous feasts.
'Why don't you come, Rose?' he asked.
'Aye, lass,' said Andy. 'And bring that great doggie with you. Thane! I well ken the last time you brought him. We got along like a house on fire.'
I thought of that 'doggie' and remembered that Andy had a local reputation for healing sick animals. Thane's injured leg had made a startling recovery. But memories of that visit were painful, of a wedding that never was, and Jack's mother would want to know as always why we weren't married yet. It bothered her, and Jack on his own would have to do some explaining to a woman whose upbringing had set down certain principles of respectable living, much simpler than ours. And that applied equally to Andy Macmerry, as both failed to understand why a couple who obviously loved each other chose to live together instead of tying the knot legally.
Andy was saying to Jack, 'I'll be back for you tomorrow. There's a sheep sale in Fife I'm mighty interested in - buying a new ram for my ewes. May as well take the chance of a gossip with some of the local farmers.'
A final resume of arrangements and it was agreed that there was no point in Jack returning to Solomon's Tower to wait for him there.
Andy took out his watch. 'There'll be a train on the hour. I'll check in at the local hotel overnight with my farming mates.'
Both men looked at me for approval and Jack said, 'You don't mind me going, Rose?'
'Of course not.' And to Andy, 'It makes sense - far easier to meet here with Waverley Station just down the road.'
'Aye, there's a local train passes through Eildon every hour. Maybe I'll leave that visit to your wee lass until next time, eh?'
Jack nod
ded vaguely while Andy, giving me another bear hug, said, 'I'll be on my way, then. Leave you two lovebirds together.' He was away, firm footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Jack took my hand. 'I feel badly about leaving you, Rose. And I did want to see Meg in her new home. But ...'
He stopped, shrugged. I was able to fill in what he was leaving unsaid. He didn't want to meet her alone, he wanted my support. And it would be much better for both of them if he waited until he was fully fit. If he went now, a possibly stressful emotional meeting would not be good for him and could cast a shadow on his future relationship with his young impressionable daughter.
'That's settled then. Pack a suitcase for me - you're good at that!' He grinned.
'I'll need time to do some laundry, Jack. Shirts to wash and iron and clothes to press,' I reminded him.
'In that case Wright can collect them.'
A bell had sounded. A nurse looked in and said, 'Time the patient had his rest. He's had an extended visiting time today,' she added reproachfully.
We kissed and Jack held my hand, looking anxious. 'Sure you'll be all right?'
'Of course,' I lied, feeling guilty again.
I should go with him, I knew. But I also knew that it was impossible. Everything in my life as a private investigator sternly demanded that I should remain in Edinburgh at this crucial time. There were too many things that Jack knew nothing about, too many unanswered questions that could not await delay and matters that had developed since his accident and that I must be on hand to deal with alone. I was glad now that he didn't know of my attack on that train journey, or of any of the stresses regarding the tracking down of Meg, and above all there was the investigation of the murder of one of my clients that was also of vital importance to me personally.
As I was leaving he said, 'Take the Jacobite file with you, I don't imagine I'll need it.'
'I had a visit from Mr Hayward - he brought back the map and had some very interesting observations.'
Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy Page 12