Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

  “One thing I don’t understand. If you had your pump on you, which you told me you do, why did you even bring the injection kit?”

  Lance looked blank, then almost stammered an answer. “I told you. I must have left it in my luggage from before.”

  “Who else had access to your suitcase?”

  “The housemaids, I suppose.”

  “Why would they take the kit and put it in your mother’s room?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t have to be one of them. It could have been anyone. I didn’t keep my door locked. Anyone could have come in.”

  “They’d need to know what to look for.”

  Lance said nothing.

  “What about Darryl?”

  “Why would Darryl do anything like that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Why would he want to hurt my mother?”

  Reid ignored the question. “How long have you known him?”

  “Since I went to university.”

  “So just since this fall?”

  “I guess.”

  “How good of friends are you?”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “I noticed the collars you two are wearing. Looks like the leather from the Falcon House? The stuff we have there to make the hoods and things?”

  “What of it? I just used a little bit.”

  “You made them?”

  Lance nodded.

  “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. I went for a walk after everything happened about mum. I saw the things on the shelf and I made the collars. I offered to make one for Rodney and Miranda, but they didn’t want one.”

  “They were with you?”

  “They came in while I was making them.”

  Reid considered, then said, “These collars look like they mean something.”

  Lance touched his collar.

  “Commitment?”

  Lance nodded.

  “You and Darryl are more than just friends?”

  Lance’s jaw set, and his face was defiant. “So?”

  “I’m not judging. Did your parents know?”

  “Not my mum, but my father, yes.”

  “You told him?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “He walked in on us.”

  “How did he take it?”

  Lance shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything. I think maybe he’s all right with it.”

  “Walked in on you where?”

  Lance’s face colored.

  “Here? Dunbaryn?”

  “Yeah.”

  Reid tried not to look as surprised as he felt, and decided to go in another direction. “As you know, we’ve been receiving threatening letters about keeping birds in the Falcon House. You were there when I explained about that and why we needed to be using the padlocks, right?”

  Lance nodded.

  “Alfred found a note posted on the door of the Falcon House making the same kind of threats yesterday.”

  The boy just grunted.

  “The police think whoever left that note might be involved in Mr. Stone’s murder.”

  Lance’s jaw went slack. “Why would they think that?”

  “I presume because after the note, Jeremy Stone was killed and the eagle was let loose. Makes sense, don’t you think? We receive a threat, then find a body.”

  “It wasn’t a threat to murder someone.”

  “How do you know what the note said?”

  Lance hesitated. “I must have heard someone talking about it.”

  Reid took a piece of paper and a marker from his jacket pocket. “The note was written on this kind of paper using the same kind of marker as this one.”

  “So?”

  “The paper and the marker came from your room.”

  Lance looked trapped, then calmed down. “There’s probably lots of paper and markers like that all over this place.”

  “Perhaps, but as no one except Arthur, the Earl, and I, along with whoever wrote the note, knew what it said or even that we’d gotten it, I’d say you must be the one who wrote it. Perhaps you and your friend.”

  “It was just a joke. I thought it would be funny. I didn’t kill Mr. Stone. Why would I kill anyone?”

  Reid spread his hands apart and said, “Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was Darryl.”

  “No.”

  “The police found drugs in your room, Lance. Were those yours or Darryl’s?”

  Lance clamped his mouth shut.

  “You can tell me or the police.”

  “You can’t make me talk to you. My father’s a solicitor. I know my rights.”

  Reid got up from behind the desk and moved to the door. “I’ll leave you here to think things through. First off, if I were you, I’d think about who exactly you’re protecting, and whether he’d do the same for you. Then I’d think about the rest of your life and how what you do here is either going to ruin it or save it.”

  Chapter 54

  REID FOUND Darryl Duggan in the billiard room. He was playing by himself, sipping a whiskey. “May I have a few moments of your time?”

  “I don’t have to talk to you.” Duggan leaned his cue stick against the table and turned toward Reid, his body languidly casual in jeans and a dark blue sweater.

  Reid was getting sick of that particular refrain. “No, you don’t. But it would probably be a good idea.”

  “For you or me?”

  “Depends.”

  “What is it you want to know?”

  “To start with, do you know where Lance was last night?”

  “Probably where everyone else was. Sleeping.”

  “And you?”

  “Do you mean was I with Lance?”

  Reid shrugged. “With anyone?”

  “I was alone.”

  “How about earlier? Before that?”

  “Earlier I was with Lance, then he went outside.”

  “You didn’t go with him?”

  “No, it was dark. Cold. Besides, I was talking with Lance’s dad.”

  “About what?”

  “He’s offered me a job. I talked with him about it, then I went to the media room.”

  “Did you see Lance’s insulin kit at any time since you’ve been here at Dunbaryn?”

  Duggan shook his head. “I don’t go through people’s luggage as a matter of course.”

  “But you knew he was diabetic?”

  “Hard not to.”

  “What about the morning Lady Flora died?”

  “What about it?”

  “Where were you, where was Lance?”

  Duggan thought, then said, “We were together some of the time, some of the time not. As I remember, he went for a walk. I was here and there, around the place.” Then, with a smirk, he said, “We all know where you were. Word is your old lady let you back in her bed.”

  Reid resisted the urge to see what his fist could do to that smirk. “You and Lance have been doing drugs here in my family’s home.”

  “Not me.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Prove it.”

  Reid wasn’t going to get into an asinine argument with this worm. “I don’t need to prove it. If the police weren’t asking us to keep everyone here, you’d be out on your ear.”

  Duggan feigned a pout. “You’re hurting my feelings. If you don’t believe me, go through my things. You’ll find no drugs.”

  Reid pulled one of the chairs away from the wall and sat down. “Where are you from, Darryl?”

  “And just why are you needing to know?”

  “Mark it down to curiosity.”

  “Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”

  “I like to live dangerously. I repeat myself, where are you from?”

  “Down south.”

  “Indeed? Where down south?”

  “Dumfries.”

  “Nice country.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Have family there
?”

  “Not anymore.” He tapped his cue stick against his palm. “If you’re not going to join me in a game, perhaps you’d let me finish my own?”

  Reid inclined his head. “Knock yourself out.”

  *****

  DI Francis took the toothpick out of his mouth. “She’s upset you weren’t going to be there for her interview.” He looked at the toothpick, turning it in his fingers. “She insists she won’t talk to anyone but you, so it looks like you’ll have to do the interview. She’s a bit emotional.”

  Reid nodded. “Is she in the library now?” He didn’t relish the task of talking to Miranda, but he really had no choice.

  “Along with her brother. She won’t let him leave her.”

  “All right. If you or your men would like to take a break, tea has been set out in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you. I’ll send the lads in.”

  “I’ll come see you as soon as I’m finished with Ms. Greene.”

  Reid steeled himself to face whatever emotional storm faced him in the library. He was relieved to see that Miranda appeared calm.

  She sat on the leather sofa with a cup of tea in front of her. She gave a brief glance in her brother’s direction. “Rodney, you can go. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Rodney seemed reluctant to go.

  “I’m sure.” She gave a small smile. “I don’t think Terrence is going to put thumbscrews on me, are you, Terrence?”

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Rodney nodded and closed the library door behind him.

  When they were alone, Miranda gave a sigh. “At times like this, I wish I still smoked.”

  “I’ll bet. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve had better Christmases.”

  “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I do need to ask you some questions. Everyone’s being asked the same sort. Where were you at this time or that.”

  Miranda leaned back on the sofa. “Did the police question Anne and her family?”

  “They did.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “I assumed she’d get special treatment.”

  “No.”

  “So you want to know where I was when Jeremy was killed?”

  “That would be a start.”

  “When was he killed?”

  “Apparently sometime between midnight and three or four this morning.”

  “That’s simple then. I was in bed. Asleep. I took one of Rick’s sedatives.”

  “And Saturday morning?”

  She laughed unhappily. “You know where I was Saturday morning. I was having my heart broken.”

  “Miranda, that’s not fair. I never . . .”

  “No, perhaps not in so many words. But we were friends, you confided in me, we saw each other frequently. We’d been lovers before, and I’ve loved you for years. What did you imagine I’d think when you started paying attention to me again?”

  “I thought we could be friends, that enough time had passed.”

  “I don’t know if enough time can ever pass when one person is still in love with the other one. Anyway, I didn’t kill Jeremy and I didn’t kill my mother. Do you really think I could have?”

  He avoided answering the question. He didn’t really know what he thought. “Apparently you were heard threatening your mother.”

  “Threatening my mother?” Miranda frowned, then her mouth opened with obvious recollection. “Oh, that. I expect it was that little red-haired sister of Anne’s who told you. She was in the corridor when Mum and I had our tiff.” She shook her head. “I should have known she couldn’t keep that to herself.”

  “The report is you threatened to kill her if she told me something.” He made his voice gentle. “What was it you didn’t want her to tell me?”

  “It didn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

  “You know she’d set up a meeting with me for the day she died?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.

  “Did you know your mother was planning to divorce Rafe?”

  “No, but I wish she would have.”

  “Or that she was changing her will?”

  “No. Was she disinheriting me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then what difference would it make to me?”

  “Miranda, what was it you didn’t you want her to tell me?”

  She waved a hand in a gesture of hopelessness. “It was nothing. It was everything. It was personal and it’s none of your business.”

  “What was it?

  She looked at him, her face strained. “Very well, if you must know, I had a kind of a breakdown after I found out you’d gotten married. I tried to kill myself.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She knotted her hands together on her lap, keeping her eyes down. “This time I thought it was finally over with you and her. I was that certain you’d come back to me when you were free. I tried to keep things fun and light between us and not pressure you. I didn’t want my mother to tell you about what happened before, because I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t think I would be the kind of woman you could marry.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why exactly I thought that. Anne does things to you over and over that I would think would make you think she’d not be the kind of woman you’d want to be married to, but no matter what she does to you, you love her. I just wish I knew how she does it.”

  He stood up, wanting nothing more than to be miles away from her. How had he made such a mess of things? “I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”

  She stared at him, unbelieving. “If, Terrence, if? I’m dying and you say, if?”

  “I don’t know what to say, Miranda. I didn’t mean for this to happen, for you to think things were different between us.”

  “You’ll never love me, will you?”

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  “She’ll just do the same thing to you, again and again, and you’ll keep taking her back.”

  “I’ll send Rodney in.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll go find him. He’ll take care of me. He always does.”

  *****

  Anne bundled up in her coat, boots, scarf, and hat. Meg had taken Michael to Terrence, so Anne figured she had at least an hour and a half before the baby would need her again. She still hadn’t had a chance to walk through the potager garden. Although it was more that knee-deep in snow most places, she couldn’t resist the opportunity. She’d found some old drawings and photos of it in a book on the estate in the castle’s library. It was an impressive kitchen garden, with an unusual array of espaliered fruit trees for somewhere so far north. From what she’d seen, its potential hadn’t even come close to being reached, and she’d been mentally re-designing it while lying in bed nursing.

  Tromping through the snow cleared her head and got her blood moving. She took her time, studying the bones of the garden, her mind whirling with ideas. A person could spend every day, all day, in these gardens and still find new things to see.

  Nearing the castle after her excursion, she spotted a large figure wearing a gray wool coat and a soft wool cap made in the Reid family’s familiar blue and green tartan. The Earl. He was brushing the snow off of a bench, and seemed to be waiting for her. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she ran to him.

  “Is it Michael? Is something wrong with Michael?”

  “No, lassie, no. The babe’s just fine. My son is planning to show him the train room after the women get through with him, though I think he’s a mite young for it.”

  Anne exhaled in relief. “Were you looking for me?”

  “Aye.” He tilted his head toward a long stone building near the castle where smoke curled out of a chimney. “Will you go into the kennels with me so we can talk in private? None of the dogs there are the gossiping kind.”

  She smiled and walked with him, confused about what the Earl could possibly want.

>   The kennel, a quaint but spacious stone cottage, was ringed on the outside with long fenced-in runs. Inside, the room that abutted the sleeping kennels was surprisingly sweet-smelling and warm. After a welcoming spate of barking, and the Earl’s distribution of biscuits, the dogs calmed down again. He led her to a large wood stove with old beaten-up looking chairs forming a half-circle around it, and motioned for her to sit down.

  He took the chair next to her. “My lady wife has asked me to talk to you.”

  “She has? About what?”

  The Earl folded his hands together in front of him. “How much has Terrence told you about his childhood?”

  She thought. “Not a lot, I guess. I know he grew up here, that he raised hunting birds and dogs. That he loves it here.”

  “What about school?”

  “He told me he went to a school in the village, then away to boarding school.”

  The Earl nodded. “What did he tell you about his years at school?”

  “That he made good friends, got a good education, and loved coming home during breaks.”

  “Everything was perfect?”

  She nodded, then frowned. “Pretty much.”

  “Terrence never wants to appear weak, or needy, or to disappoint, or fall short. Or normally, to hurt anyone. Which may make it hard to understand how he’s been with you, at least until you know why he is the way he is.”

  Anne leaned to get closer to the warmth of the wood stove, but she wasn’t any closer to understanding what the Earl was saying. “He’s proud.”

  “He’s that. But his reaction to what’s gone on between the two of you makes more sense if you know more about his life, about our family history.”

  “His reaction to what, exactly?”

  The Earl spread his hands in a gesture of tactful inclusion. “Your artist, the pregnancy happening when it did.”

  She gave a wry smile. “What’s not to understand? Your wife’s affair with another man is all over the papers and television, the two of them are suspects in a kidnapping and murder, and then she ends up pregnant.” She studied her father-in-law to see if he knew the paternity of the child had been in question.

  “Yes, he told me, although I should have figured it out.”

  Anne picked up a stick from the ground in front of the stove, and tapped it on the black iron door where wood went in. “It wasn’t as black and white as it sounds.” She didn’t want to go into detail with the Earl about their separations, or for that matter, their reunions.