Ignoring that, I said, 'There are some questions I want to know the answer to. You say they could have known you were in hospital, but where did Sawler get the uniform?'
Jack laughed. 'That's easy. He was an actor, and the Portobello Players have mystery plays on their repertoire and must have a costume hamper full of police uniforms.' Pausing, he looked at me. 'What's on your mind, Rose?'
'Where did they get all this information - us and the Tower, I mean?' I didn't want to end Wright's brief career in the Edinburgh City Police and added quickly, 'I mean how widespread is your personal knowledge about each other in the Central Office?'
'It's all there, in the files; Gray and those above have it all on record. My career, my marriage, widowed, one daughter. And yours too, Rose - I'd be prepared to bet you have a dossier.' He paused, then added, 'And of course, ours.'
'Would anyone junior to you have access to this information?'
Jack thought about that. 'Well, we do gossip in the local pub. All lads together, that sort of thing, over a pie and a pint. We're only human after all.' A quizzical look. 'Is all this leading somewhere?'
It was, but I shook my head, determined not to incriminate Sergeant Wright, who I was sure held his inspector in high regard and had somehow allowed himself to be drawn into the Adrian-Steven conspiracy without the least knowledge of what dire crimes were intended.
'So Meg was no secret.'
Jack laughed. 'I don't go on about her like some of the doting fathers, but if any of the lads ask me, I say yes, I have a wee girl, living with her aunty. I dare say Adrian and Steven frequented the same local pubs, had the same acquaintances, and for their vile purposes, learnt that I had a little girl who might prove useful.'
Later he said, 'Don't worry, Rose, under pressure he will reveal Meg's whereabouts and all will be well.'
I wished I felt as sure as he did. I could not rid myself of that ominous feeling of disaster - one that I was quite used to and which, alas, often proved to be right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Next day, in my role as a private investigator, I was to be present in the interview room in the Central Office while Jack questioned Adrian Dyce. This procedure had been approved, somewhat reluctantly, by Chief Inspector Gray, who poured scorn on the activities of female sleuths. However I had become a valuable witness, involved right from the start when I agreed to deliver Mrs Lawers' legacy, and gaining possession of it was the motive for her murder.
There was a policeman present and I wondered why it wasn't Wright taking notes, as Adrian began throwing all the blame on Steven, who, he said, had killed the two women because the legacy belonged to his branch of the family by rights - a lot of money, thousands of pounds stolen by his ancestor who was a Jacobite spy.
'I hadn't much faith in it personally but he persuaded me to go along with him. Said it would be easy, a sick old woman not long for this world. But she defied him, and when she refused to part with it by peaceful persuasion, he said he lost his temper and ... well, he hit her - too hard. The maid tried to intervene.'
A pause; there was no need for further comment.
'And what about Steven's unfortunate death, did you have a hand in that too?' Jack asked.
'Of course not, that was an accident coming back from rehearsals. Birthday party for one of the cast. We both drank too much. Past midnight, we ran out of money for a hiring carriage. Nothing for it but to walk - took the short cut back by Duddingston. By that time, the fog was so bad over Arthur's Seat that we could hardly see our hands before our faces. We reached the turn of the road leading down to the loch. A carriage was coming up the steep hill. Steven tried to get it to stop and give us a lift. I didn't see what happened next. He staggered and fell down the steep slope to the loch.'
A pause. 'Naturally I went down after him, but I couldn't do anything to revive him. I guessed he was dead.'
He made the statement totally without emotion, and in the short silence I guessed that Jack and the other policeman present, who was taking notes, had also decided that this was an unlikely story.
Jack asked, 'Why didn't you go for help?'
Adrian thought about that. 'There wasn't any place nearby. That part is completely isolated.'
'What about Solomon's Tower?'
'In the middle of the night?' A sneering glance in my direction. 'A woman on her own with that great watchdog?'
That was significant, I thought, as he added huffily, 'Frankly I didn't want to get involved.'
'Why were you so worried? If you were innocent of your friend's death - an unfortunate accident - you had nothing to fear.'
'Indeed? I know what you lot are like.'
'Indeed you don't, Mr Dyce. We would be naturally suspicious of a man who callously left his friend lying dead at the edge of the loch and went home.'
I fancied that Adrian shrugged this aside. 'If I was detained for questioning, there was the Portobello play to be considered. It was imminent and I couldn't risk delays. Had the rest of the cast to think of, cancellations and so forth. We couldn't afford that sort of thing - or to disappoint all those people,' he added piously.
'All, in your opinion, more important than Steven Sawler's dead body? And, of course, wasting police time trying to discover his identity by emptying his pockets, removing any possessions.'
'Don't know what you're talking about.'
'I am talking about means of identification, a wallet, watch - the sort of thing you carry yourself, but all were missing from Sawler's body when we found him.'
A grim laugh. 'Then some of your lot must have helped themselves. It certainly wasn't me.'
A pause and Jack went on, 'Now, tell us where the kidnapped child is.'
'Can't help you there. Haven't the slightest idea. Steven arranged that and kept it to himself, as he did a lot of things. I was only the messenger.'
'The messenger?' Jack interrupted. 'With Sawler already dead, I think you invented this role - didn't you?'
Adrian was trapped, a note of desperation in his voice. 'I tell you this was all Steven's fault, right from the beginning. He wanted those documents Mrs McQuinn had been given by Mrs Lawers to hand on to some relative in the Highlands. That maddened Steven, said he was a closer relative by descent. Reslaw was his real name.'
'Did he know what these documents contained?'
Adrian laughed. 'Of course. He was obsessed by them. The key to the whereabouts of a missing treasure - called it a "king's ransom".'
'And presumably you were to have a share in this vast fortune.'
'Yes, that was the general idea. But I would never have willingly become an accessory to murder. I was an actor, his best friend, and he needed my help to get hold of this hidden money that was to set us both up for life. He thought it might have been hidden all these years in the house where the prince had lodged.
'So he sent me to have a look around as a prospective buyer for this historic house and a distant relative of the Lawers family. But I refused to kill the old lady and the maid - he did that accidentally he said, and then he tried to make it look like a gas leak. He was desperate, and because I was shorter and slimmer than him and had played female roles, I was to pretend to be the maid and get the documents from the McQuinn woman over there on the journey.'
'Attempted murder,' said Jack grimly.
'Prove it, Inspector.' He jabbed a finger in my direction. 'Go on, tell them. You felt faint, tried to open the window and all I did was grab you to stop you falling out. I saved your life!'
I merely shook my head and Jack continued sharply: 'After being an accessory to murdering two innocent women.'
A short silence. 'I've told you. I had no part in that.' He laughed. 'Where's your proof?' With Steven dead that was true.
He went on: 'It wasn't in the house, so he decided that this ancestor of his, the Jacobite spy, must have been billeted with some of the prince's men on Arthur's Seat, and as the only building was Solomon's Tower, the money might still be there.'
&
nbsp; 'So you went disguised as a policeman, lured Mrs McQuinn away, so that you could have a look for them.'
'That wasn't me. That was Steven.' And Adrian realised too late that he had just revealed that he knew all about the break-in.
Jack returned again to Meg's kidnapping but Adrian remained adamant in his denial of having anything to do with that, perhaps believing that this was something he could use - assisting the police - that would reduce his sentence.
I lingered by the door waiting for Jack, who was with the young policeman obviously going over the notes.
As we left the building, I asked why his sergeant hadn't been with him during the interview with Adrian.
'Con asked to be excused, on the grounds that Adrian would recognise him. He was very apologetic, mortified. The two actors had befriended him over the past few weeks, finding out in the pub that he was stage-struck and admired the Portobello Players; they even hinted at the chance of some walk-on parts. When he recognised Steven's body he realised what was going on, that he was being pumped for information and had unwittingly aided them in their murderous intent. The kidnap of Meg was the bitter end.'
Jack shook his head. 'Poor Con was almost tearful, offered to hand in his resignation. I said no, he's got the makings of a good copper, we all make mistakes in judgement and I trusted that this indiscretion would make him more careful in the future not to gossip about his colleagues.'
He added, 'As Dyce was taken down to the cells, Gray came over and said, "All that murder and mayhem for a mythical thirty thousand. After all that time, the idea of it still existing is preposterous. Sawler must have been insane to believe it."'
Jack laughed, 'I said nothing.'
'You didn't tell him that at home we had a souvenir?'
'An envelope full of mouse-chewed shreds?' Jack added. 'No, I think we keep that piece of information to ourselves.'
But we had more to think about; a king's ransom wasn't worth the life of a child, at this moment in deadly peril.
The terrifying question remained: where was she?
And the dreadful reality was unshakeable. Steven was dead and, if Adrian hadn't lied, the secret of where she was hidden had died with him.
Who could we turn to? I thought of Nanny Craigle - she knew Adrian and Steven and possibly actors' favourite haunts. I would go and see her, trying not to think of Beth - of coming face-to-face with her terrible distress that the man she loved and hoped to marry was a ruthless killer. I thought of Lillie ...
And suddenly I had an idea.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
'Jack, I think I know where she is.'
Hardly daring to hope we took a carriage and went to Portobello. Nanny Craigle opened the door. Very upset she was, gasping out that she couldn't believe all this about Adrian and Steven. It wasn't true, was it?
'Poor Beth, that lass has suffered so much.'
'Where is she?'
'Upstairs in her bedroom with Lillie and the other wee girl, Madge.'
Jack almost pushed her aside and raced upstairs.
The door was open; Beth sat on the bed, tear-stained, tragic, rocking the baby Lillie in her cot. The little girl on her knee saw us, jumped down and ran to Jack.
Laughing, she shouted, 'Pa!'
He swept her up into his arms and held her close to his heart. I saw his expression. He had not expected this since Steven claiming to be her father had taken her from the Blakers. And yet some instinct, some fragment of memory, had recognised that this man was her real father. Now he held her as if he could never let her go again.
We explained to Beth, as gently as we could, that there was no actress mother. Steven, or Adrian at his behest, had kidnapped this little girl and held her to ransom.
Beth ran to me. 'Oh Rose, I am so ashamed. Loving a man, giving my heart to such a vile creature. I never want to see him again. And I am so glad that my little Lillie is not his child.'
It was sad, for Meg's kidnapping was the final curtain on Beth's tragedy. We left her shocked and disillusioned, unable to offer words of comfort, and we were the only ones with even a crumb of joy in our hearts.
Except perhaps for Nanny Craigle, who whispered as we were leaving, 'Miss Beth will be all right. Sir Frederick will take care of her.'
Longing to take Meg home with us, Jack had a duty to her adoptive parents. 'To the Blakers first. The poor woman was distraught.'
At the house in Joppa, a happy reunion. Mrs Blaker took us into the sitting room, Meg frowning, holding on to her father's hand with both of her own, as if reluctant to be separated from him for an instant.
Mr Blaker was there, solid, quiet. Saying 'All's well that ends well,' he left the rest to his wife. Meg went over politely, sat on her knee, but all the time looking back, watching Jack with that anxious expression I had seen in the orphans, reminding me of stray dogs.
It broke my heart. I felt tears threatening.
'Welcome home again, dear,' said Mrs Blaker.
She was wearing a long pendant with a bright jewel. Meg toyed with it, not looking at her.
A clearing of the throat and Mr Blaker said sternly, 'You had better tell them, my dear.'
Mrs Blaker sighed, looked across at us. 'We have just discovered from our physician that after all these years we are to have a child of our own.'
Her husband interrupted quickly, 'In the circumstances, as my wife is somewhat delicate, I am afraid we must decline adopting Meg. It is most unfortunate, of course, but I am sure other adoptive parents will be found, and she is most welcome to remain with us until suitable arrangements are made.'
We waited no longer. We took her home with us. Thane was waiting with a joyous welcome. Almost asleep, Jack carried her upstairs to bed in the spare room.
Thane came with us, sat at the bedside watching as Jack tucked her into bed. Her eyes opened, she pointed.
'Want doggie,' she said firmly, 'Doggie stay.'
Jack was already carrying Thane's rug from our bedroom floor. I felt that he wasn't displeased.
There were decisions to be made. As for that legacy and the money which cost so many lives, we treasured our envelope of mouse-chewed paper. The historical documents, including the letters and map drawn by Prince Charlie, would go to the archives. The snuffbox and mourning ring might be valuable but I wouldn't lay claim to either of them, and we decided that their future lay in a glass case in the history museum.
Jack came in while I was writing letters.
'Hold on, you can post these for me in town,' I said.
He looked over my shoulder at the addresses and I explained, 'Two new cases, prospective clients, Jack, but I'm postponing everything to do with my investigations until we get Meg settled.'
He was silent, nodded, then said, 'You can't do this, Rose. It isn't right.'
I sighed. 'Meg's future is more important than a couple of new clients.'
He looked down at me. 'Listen, Rose, Meg is my problem, I can't let you sacrifice your career. There must be some other solution.'
As he said the words, Vince's parting remark flashed into my mind - that the solution was so simple he was surprised it had taken so long for a lady investigator to work it out.
I handed the letters to him. 'And until we do, I will look after Meg.'
I cut short his arguments. 'Jack, Meg is your daughter but I have always felt that she is partly my responsibility.'
He frowned. 'How do you come by that, pray?'
'I know it is disagreeable for you to remember, but if you can bear to cast your mind back, her very existence is my fault - if I hadn't rejected you and sent you away, you would never have taken up with Maggie and married her on the rebound. And wee Meg would never have been born.'
'Don't be idiotic, Rose. I can't allow such sentiments. Now let's be practical.'
'I am being practical. I have thought of a way ...' I paused, took a deep breath. 'We could get married - make it legal. Be proper parents.'
Jack stared at me and bit his lip. Not only a
ngry but obstinate. He shook his head, 'No Rose, I will not marry you against your every inclination, just because of Meg. The idea is intolerable. I will hear no more about it. And that's definite.'
'Jack.' I put my arms around his neck and he backed away, eyeing me coldly. 'It is not intolerable, because I love you,' I whispered. 'I think I have known that for a very long time.'
Silent for a moment, he said grumpily, 'You might have told me, then. What about your career, always so important?'
'It still is important, but I want you. There's plenty of room for you - and Meg.'
'No, Rose.' He held up his hand. 'You have consistently refused to marry me for years - only once did you agree, and, as I found out when you miscarried on the eve of our wedding, that was only because you were pregnant,' he added bitterly.
'Yes, I lost that baby, yours and mine, Jack. It seems unlikely that I'll conceive again; the Faro women are rather doomed in that respect, one child - if they are lucky. The old Orkney selkie curse.'
He gave an impatient shrug as I went on, 'So having your daughter is the next best thing.'
'I'm not listening to all this, Rose. Meg can stay with us till we sort something out that is best for her, meantime--'
'"Meantime" is for always as far as I am concerned. She is your daughter and this is her rightful home, here with you. As for marriage, if you won't have me, I really don't care. We are already married under Scottish law - by habit and repute, remember - and I am not greatly concerned about the legal documents, the church wedding or what people think.'
Jack looked at the clock. 'I have to go. We'll discuss this later.' He held up the letters. 'Sure you want me to post these?'
'Yes. I want a week or two to spend with Meg, get to know each other while I make some arrangements that will suit all three of us.'
'What kind of arrangements would those be, pray?'
'With the convent - the Little Sisters of the Poor across the way.'
Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy Page 21