Gently with Love

by Alan Hunter

I heard Ailsie Mackenzie gasp.

  ‘I don’t think he gave a damn for your daughter,’ I said. ‘He was after Anne. She meant money to him. He was probably convinced that he would get his own way. But he couldn’t keep his hands off a pretty girl, and when you threatened to throw him out she made a handy lever. So suddenly that was the situation. She wouldn’t hold back, and you couldn’t get rid of him. And then the call came from James Mackenzie, who I am sure advised you what was afoot.’

  ‘Ach, he’s the very devil!’ Ailsie Mackenzie exclaimed.

  ‘What exactly were your movements after the phone call?’

  ‘He came to the bar!’ Ailsie Mackenzie cried. ‘He came to tell me what was going on.’

  ‘Ailsie, hold your tongue,’ Robert Mackenzie growled. ‘Do you not see that he’s trying it on? He would talk you into the county jail if you let him, and you’re for giving him a helping hand.’ He finished his drink with a quick, irritable motion and set the glass on the tray with a slam. ‘So that’s the drift of it,’ he said. ‘You’ll be setting me up to take the heat off the youngster.’

  ‘I am simply trying to get at the facts.’

  ‘Would you say it is a fact that I am a liar?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘I am looking you in the eyes and swearing that I took no part in what happened.’

  ‘Then where were you?’

  ‘Here – right here! In this very room where we sit now. And wishing that Anne’s laddie would break every bone of him, which I had been sorely tempted to do myself.’

  ‘You were here alone?’

  ‘Ach – ach!’

  ‘He was in here when Iain rang!’ Ailsie Mackenzie burst out. ‘And would he not be seen leaving the bar, which faces the front and the gate?’

  ‘He was not seen?’

  ‘No, he was not!’

  ‘Then you were in the bar, not in the parlour?’

  ‘I was serving the laddies, and what else – and I could see that nobody left the house!’

  I nodded, and ate up my bannock. ‘So your husband was in here when Iain Mackenzie rang.’

  ‘Aye – I’ve told you! I took the call and fetched Robert out to talk to him.’

  ‘It must have been a moment of some excitement.’

  Ailsie Mackenzie gazed. ‘Who is going to deny it?’

  ‘Did you go down to the clifftop?’

  ‘Ach, we all did!’

  ‘Your daughter too?’

  ‘She went with the rest.’

  ‘But your husband stayed here.’

  Her mouth gaped. Robert Mackenzie looked grim.

  ‘It’s simple,’ I said. ‘Your husband mentioned earlier that he hadn’t met Sambrooke. Sambrooke was present at the clifftop. It follows that your husband didn’t go there.’ I regarded him mildly. ‘Yet surely what was happening was of considerable interest to you? If Fortuny was indeed dead it solved the problem that had just arisen.’

  Robert Mackenzie stared at me bitterly. ‘You are a master man all right,’ he said. ‘You forget nothing when once it is told you, and you throw it up at an unco moment. Aye, I did not go, and you’ll ken why. And it was not that I was fresh back from murdering him. It was because the news of it went to my stomach and I was casting my dinner like a sick bairn. You are right – dooms right – it had solved a problem, and it had answered the curse that I threw after him. I should not have done it, but I did, and when the news came my stomach threw up.’

  I looked at him curiously. ‘You believe in curses?’

  ‘Aye. And who has a better right?’

  ‘But you’re a reasonable man.’

  ‘Ach, and because of it I am compelled to believe.’

  ‘His grandmother was Elspeth Mackay,’ Ailsie Mackenzie broke in. ‘She was kenned through the country for second sight. She let on the Viking curse to Robbie, and he was fool enough to cast it at Fortuny.’

  ‘But . . . you believe it caused his death?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Just the repetition of some words?’

  ‘It works, it works,’ Robert Mackenzie exclaimed. ‘What use is it turning a blind eye to fact? At first I was scornful as a southron, I used the curse in a manner of jest – but it kept coming true, it never did fail, and in the end I was feared but to think of the words.’

  ‘Could it not have been coincidence?’

  ‘Ach, call it what you will. But it is a coincidence that always happens. And if I had kent what would befall Fortuny I would have bitten my tongue through before I uttered it.’

  ‘What are the words?’

  ‘You’ll not get them from me. I will never speak nor think them again.’

  ‘I ken the words,’ Ailsie Mackenzie said, ‘and I would not give them to a saint upon earth.’

  I was intrigued. I had heard that second sight was a widely held belief in the islands, and I could well credit that a complementary belief in the efficacy of cursing might go with it. Robert Mackenzie seemed a rational enough man but the most sceptical among us have our blind spots. It was credible that in this instance he had reacted as he did. He was watching me closely.

  ‘Then you must take some of the responsibility for Fortuny’s death.’

  He relaxed slightly. ‘I am glad to do so. I have felt it on my conscience.’

  ‘But for you, you are saying, it would not have happened.’

  ‘I do not believe the young man would have died.’

  ‘So that in fact the murderer is not wholly culpable.’

  He stared for a moment, then averted his eyes. ‘You ken how I’m placed. I’m wishing well. I am all for Miss Anne’s young man getting off. But just supposing I knew more than I do, I am a sharer in the guilt, and I could not be informing. So though I would help you in any fair question, you will not be expecting me to go beyond that.’

  ‘I think you are telling me you know who killed Fortuny.’

  I heard his wife gasp. Robert Mackenzie shook his head. ‘I was here in this place. I do not have second sight like my grandmother.’

  ‘But you have spoken to that man since.’

  ‘You are putting words in his mouth!’ Ailsie Mackenzie cried. ‘We have told you what we know. It is in the statements. You cannot come asking questions like Inspector Sinclair.’

  ‘Whist, Ailsie, whist,’ Robert Mackenzie chided. ‘The man has a right to shog us a little. His friend is sitting in Dornoch jail and there is no doubt that he should not be there.’ He rose slowly and stood before me. ‘I think we have finished our crack, Superintendent. You are going away with more in your head than I expected to put there when you stepped in. But remember this. If you did ken all, you might not be rushing off to Sinclair. This is a sad affair and a strange one, but it may not be just that simple.’

  I rose too. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

  ‘Aye. You may find it to be of service.’

  ‘And let me thank you for your hospitality.’

  ‘Ach, ach. You’re in Kylie here.’

  He saw me out; as we passed through the hall, I thought I heard Beattie’s voice above. But Robert Mackenzie opened the door clumsily and noisily, and then there was only silence.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  IT WAS STILL not properly dark when I took my leave from the House of Reay. The loch, glimmering below, made hard silhouettes of the staithe and the moored boats. Ahead the great mass of rock that the road divided loomed dim and heavy, lacking in detail; and beyond it, in a dusky sea, a far-off lighthouse flashed indistinctly. I felt I was sure of one thing. Except for myself, the whole of Kyleness knew who had killed Fortuny. Robert Mackenzie and his family knew it and so did James and Iain and all their connections. This was what Sinclair must have sensed and why he had held his hand in charging Earle. It may have been that the Mackenzies had indulged his suspicions even as now they were indulging mine; they knew, and they felt sufficiently secure to be able to take this line in Earle’s defence. Nobody would talk; the story was watertight; I could ask where I ple
ased but I would find no leaks in it. Sinclair was aware of this, and all he had asked me for was modest support for a case of not proven. My role, in fact, had been tacitly defined; I was to frank the situation with my professional repute; Earle would be freed, Sinclair would be justified, and the Mackenzies left unoffended and in possession of their secret. Fortuny, after all, was only a southron; he was not worth turning the world upside down over. Well, good enough. But my professional repute would not rest easy in these circumstances. It had a will of its own, and a curiosity, and a propensity to take offence that rivalled the Mackenzies. If it could not arrive at proof at least it demanded satisfaction, and as I walked down from the House of Reay I determined that I would penetrate the mystery before I quit Kyleness. That was the price of my professional repute and I would not accept a penny less. Yet a solution didn’t seem to be getting closer. I had been struck by a contention of Robert Mackenzie’s. Fortuny had not been in Kyleness long enough to have aroused any mortal enmity. He appeared to have met but very few people. The Kylie Rose and her crew had been at sea. He had aroused the anger of James Mackenzie and presented Robert Mackenzie with a problem, but could either of these have simmered to a point where murdering Fortuny entered the reckoning? I found it hard to believe. The sort of thrashing Earle gave him would have been adequate in either instance. It would have settled his hash with regard to Anne, and if he had persisted with Beattie I could easily imagine Robert Mackenzie repeating the dose. The auld way: it was sufficient; it was the natural recourse of the Mackenzies; it did not lead to stabbing a defenceless man and tossing his unconscious body to destruction. Fortuny’s killer had not been angry, he had been possessed. He had been goaded by a maturity of injury and resentment. Yet who, except Earle had these qualifications, and what other stranger would the Mackenzies protect?

  With my meditation at this stage I reached the passage through the rocks. There indeed it was dark; and the darkness seemed to accentuate the detonations of the surf below. I quickened my step. I couldn’t quite subdue the feeling of horror with which the place oppressed me. Yet I knew it was folly; though a man had been slain there, these remained just rocks, and this just a road. I came down from the cliff edge into the bend, where I could barely make out the road in front of me, and I failed to see the man who was standing there until I was almost upon him. The man was Alex.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ‘I’M SORRY IF I startled you.’

  He was standing on the verge exactly at the spot where Earle claimed he had waited. His face was merely a pale blur but I could imagine his amused smile. I grunted surlily.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  He laughed. ‘I came to indulge in the frissons. One doesn’t often have such an opportunity. And I’m still young enough to admire Shelley.’

  ‘You mean you were ghost-hunting?’

  ‘I thought I’d give one a chance. I dare say that if Fortuny could appear he would jump at it. And I was his enemy in life, so who would be a better subject for haunting?’

  I didn’t at once reply. There seemed something almost predestined about Alex’s appearance in this place, and I realized that, in my reverie, I had been just about to find him a niche. I had been sketching the killer’s qualifications. They were qualifications shared by Alex. Small wonder if I had started when I found him close to me just then.

  ‘Were you waiting for me?’

  He laughed again. ‘One expects you to look for the prosaic reason. But you’re right, the frissons were just a bonus. I thought it was time we had a little talk.’

  ‘What have you to tell me?’

  ‘Not very much. But I appreciate that you may have questions to ask me.’

  ‘Suppose we go somewhere a little less chilling.’

  He shook his head. ‘We can’t talk in the house.’

  He shivered; he was wearing a short coat and his hands were stuffed into the pockets. I wondered how long he had been waiting there and why he had not come up to the hotel. But I wasn’t going to stay in that icy frost-trap. I gestured with my head and began to retrace my steps. Alex followed. We came to the parapet. He hesitated briefly, then sat down on the wall.

  ‘This will do.’

  I sat down near him. It was not a perch I would have chosen. One hundred and fifty feet below us the waves gnawed at the rocks where Fortuny had lain. But here in the better light I could just make out the features of the oval face turned towards me, and the large, dark eyes that stared unwinkingly into mine.

  ‘Do you think I set Earle up for this?’

  I paused before nodding abruptly. I thought I saw his mouth twist.

  ‘You’re right. It was too good a chance to miss. I knew that Earle could give him a beating. He had wiped the floor with him before. I would like to have done the job myself, but frankly I’m no good in a punch-up.’

  ‘Are you satisfied with the result?’

  His black eyes considered me. ‘The truth is yes. I can be as hypocritical as other people, but not on Fortuny’s account.’

  ‘You are glad he is dead.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘You must have felt he had done you grave injury.’

  ‘He stole my work. He jeopardized my career. And now he’s dead, and I’m glad.’

  ‘You don’t find it in your heart to pity him.’

  Alex gave a jerk of his head. ‘It would be easy to say so. After four years working for Aunty, making the right sounds becomes an automatic reflex. Perhaps I’m not BBC material. Coming up here has taught me a few things. I’m a Mackenzie too. I have a tough soul. I’m not what Oxford tried to make me. I’ve been doing a lot of re-thinking, lately, about who I am and where I’m going, and first I’m determined on moral honesty. I don’t have a scrap of pity for Fortuny.’

  ‘Who killed him?’

  ‘Earle, I think.’

  ‘It could have been you.’

  ‘Yes, it could. You could make a good case out of casting me as the villain, and showing how I followed Earle to finish off the job.’

  ‘Why did you follow him?’

  ‘You don’t think I’m the villain?’

  ‘I think, like you, that the case is a good one.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re not certain, are you? You think I’ve got it in me to have done it.

  I said nothing. He eyed me steadily.

  ‘This would be an excellent place to confess. After I had got it off my chest I could decide whether to take the consequences or not. I might even dodge them altogether by a treacherous attack on yourself. I might be armed, had you thought of that? I could be holding a gun in one of these pockets.’

  ‘But you’re not. You’re romanticizing.’

  Now I was sure of the bitter twist to his mouth. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’m still twenty-seven. It isn’t an age when moral honesty comes easily.’ He caught up a chip of rock and hurled it violently into emptiness: it vanished silently. He sat moodily staring towards the surf, invisible below. ‘I thought there was a chance of what happened.’

  ‘Of Earle’s killing him?’

  He nodded. ‘Earle can lose his head. When I told him about Fortuny he went nearly crazy. I felt there was a chance that he wouldn’t stop at thrashing him and it gave me a queer thrill. Can you understand that? I was crazy too. I felt that at least I’d found a way to be even with him.’

  ‘Then you were crazy.’

  ‘Yes, I admit it. Yet perhaps not as crazy as you are thinking. You’re an abolitionist, I’m not so sure: I think there are men whom society should get rid of.’

  ‘Men like Fortuny?’

  He shook his head, but reluctantly. ‘Perhaps with Fortuny that’s going too far. But it’s an argument that retentionists have tended to overlook that execution purges us of killers. They get led astray by red herrings such as the elements of revenge and prevention. They are irrelevant. The question is simply one of the disposal of the men who kill.’

  ‘That solution would leave a killer in our midst.�
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  ‘Perhaps we could devise automatic execution.’

  ‘You can’t get rid of the moral guilt.’

  ‘It might be worth it.’

  ‘It has never been found so.’

  Alex dug into his pockets. ‘I’ve no doubt you’re right. I’m just a foolish young man trying to question everything. And the fact is that I didn’t stay crazy for long – I got on the road and tried to head Earle off.’

  ‘That was why you followed him.’

  ‘Of course. I thought I could catch him in the MG. He had two hours’ start but it’s seven hundred miles and I knew the road a lot better than he did.’

  ‘And if you caught him?’

  ‘I would have tried to argue sense into him. I admit that probably he wouldn’t have listened. But there was a chance that I could have got there first and warned Fortuny. At least I might have exerted a calming influence.’

  ‘But you didn’t catch him. Or get here first.’

  ‘I didn’t know that he would drive so far and so fast. By Stirling I was sure I must be ahead of him, and that probably he’d lost himself getting round Glasgow.’

  I nodded, because this was credible in the days before the spur from the motorway was completed. Either you followed the slow A73 or continued towards Glasgow and hoped. The latter, if you didn’t possess special knowledge, could turn out to be a frustrating adventure.

  ‘What time did you leave Stirling?’

  ‘I was away by half-past eight. I kept to the main road and kept going fast. But obviously I didn’t catch up with Earle.’

  ‘He spent the night at Pitlochry.’

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘He didn’t leave until nine.’

  ‘But that’s seventy or eighty up the road.’

  ‘Do you still have the hotel bill for where you stayed in Stirling?’

  Alex was silent a few moments. ‘I do have the hotel bill,’ he said. ‘But if you’re intending to cast me as the villain that proves nothing, either way. I was at the Royal. I could have left earlier. I could well have been here ahead of Earle. But then I would have to have hidden my car, made myself invisible, and divined where they would meet by supersensory perception.’