When McGray spoke, I startled.
‘Look at the hands,’ he said, and I noticed that Grannie Alice was holding a dip pen and piece of paper with a half-drawn astral chart.
And then other details emerged : lurking in the dark foliage behind her were the eyes of a black cat, and the woman wore a golden talisman around her neck.
‘See that?’ asked McGray. ‘A perfect circle with a wee dot in the centre. That’s the Wiccan symbol for the sun. And the wee cat there. D’ye think she might’ve been a witch?’
I sighed. ‘We cannot discard it, although it is far more likely that she was simply as peculiar and credulous as her silly granddau—’
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ a sweet voice called out behind us, and I instantly blushed.
We turned on our heels and saw a young woman appear, carrying a silver tray with a tea service. She could not have been called beautiful, with a rather large mouth, freckles all over her face, and unusually wide hips, but her eyes were deep blue and welcoming – McGray’s instantly sparkled.
‘Och, good day!’ he said, all smiles, and offered a hand to shake as soon as the girl left the tray on a nearby table. ‘Inspectors Percy and McGray.’
‘Ian Frey,’ I grumbled, bowing at her.
‘What’s yer name, lassie?’
‘Ethel Tomkins, sir,’ she replied with a mellow, well-modulated Edinburgh accent. ‘I’m Mrs Cobbold’s companion. Prissy tells me you came to see my mistress.’
‘Yes,’ I jumped in, ‘and it is rather urgent.’
‘I would assume so, sir, with all this scandal around her. But I’m afraid Mrs Cobbold is out of town.’
‘Out of town!’ I squealed, at once suspecting the woman might be on the run.
McGray interjected in a much friendlier manner. ‘D’ye ken where she went?’
‘Of course, sir. She’s just in Kirkcaldy. She has a wee summer house there. She’s with the colonel’s children.’
‘She took them there?’ McGray asked.
‘Yes, the poor things. She sent them away as soon as she received the news. Only yesterday she set off to join them. I don’t think she’ll bring them back for as long as this horrid circus goes on.’
‘Is she herself coming back at all?’ I urged.
‘Oh, I don’t know, sir. She told me she might come for the trial, but it all depends on how the children are doing by then.’
I let out a hissing breath.
‘If you really need to talk to her, I can telegram her. Prissy can run to the—’
‘That will not be necessary,’ I interrupted. ‘We would prefer to contact her ourselves. If you please give us her Kirkcaldy address, we shall be on our way.’
‘Of course, sir,’ she answered. ‘Do be seated. I’ll fetch some paper.’
McGray lounged on one of the sofas, but I remained standing.
‘Och, sit down, Percy.’
I tapped my shoe on the floor. ‘McGray, the blasted woman has sailed away with the colonel’s brats. Do you not find it—?’
‘Here,’ said Miss Tomkins, coming back with a note and, despite having caught me yet again, she kept her kind face. The girl put the note in McGray’s hand, showing him a rather forward smile.
‘Since we’re here,’ said McGray, pocketing the note, ‘can we ask ye a few wee questions, lassie?’
‘Oh, of course, sirs! I was about to have some tea, if you care to join me.’
‘Och, aye, I love tea.’
I rolled my eyes, sighed and sat down.
I was going to refuse any nibbles, but the cucumber and roast beef finger sandwiches proved too tempting. I savoured them as McGray drank tea for the first time in months (he does not care for brews) and questioned Miss Tomkins.
Even distracted by the food, I gathered that the girl had worked there for almost ten years, hired right after the death of Mrs Cobbold’s husband.
‘Ye must’ve been a child,’ said McGray, making the girl blush.
‘I hope you don’t expect me to confess my age.’
‘I’m CID, lassie. I may have to force ye.’
I breathed out. ‘I am surprised Mrs Cobbold did not live with her daughter.’
Miss Tomkins refilled McGray’s cup before answering. ‘She didn’t like the colonel at all. I’d be more reserved about that sort of thing, but I’m sure she’ll tell you the same. My mistress values frankness.’
‘D’ye ken why she hated him?’ McGray winked at her. ‘Speak on. I won’t get ye in trouble.’
Miss Tomkins twisted her mouth. ‘Well, the man was impossible. Always angry and shouting at everybody. And I know he did some—’
The scullery maid came in then with a fresh pot of tea, and Miss Tomkins jumped.
‘Prissy, stay in the kitchen ’til I call you.’
The young girl left and only then did Miss Tomkins continue.
‘I heard the colonel did some sort of … murky businesses with the late Mr Shaw.’
‘Grannie Alice’s husband?’ I asked, and Miss Tomkins nodded. ‘What sort of businesses?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t tell you a thing about that, sir. They always spoke around it, not calling things by their name.’
‘Who is “they”?’
‘My mistress and her daughter, Mrs Grenville, may she rest in peace.’
I produced my pocket notebook and scribbled away, which made the girl quite nervous.
‘It’s fine, lassie. We won’t get ye in trouble,’ McGray assured her again, and for once I was thankful for their flirting.
‘Do you have any hint,’ I went on, ‘any at all, as to what that business might have been?’
Miss Tomkins looked sideways, deep in thought.
‘I know it must have happened at least twenty years ago. I heard my mistress and her daughter say once that the troubles – as they called them – happened just as they were planning the wedding with the colonel. Shortly before or shortly after, I can’t remember.’
As I wrote that, one detail seemed to glare from the pages.
‘They married twenty years ago?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But the children—’
‘The eldest has just turned twelve.’
‘So they were married for eight years before the first child was born?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That is very odd,’ I mumbled, writing it down. ‘There must have been much gossip.’
‘Oh, yes. I heard that that vile Mr Willberg once even mocked the colonel at a family ball. You can imagine the sort of jokes.’
‘Indeed,’ I said, looking at McGray. ‘I have grown very familiar with such crass vulgarity.’
‘Eight years, nae issue, and then three children?’ McGray asked, and Miss Tomkins looked furtively at Grannie Alice’s portrait.
‘The grandmother … I once heard that she did … something to help.’
I stopped scribbling at once. ‘Something?’
‘Aye – I mean, yes. She … well, everybody knew her interests. Apparently she brewed some … potions.’ She grabbed McGray’s hand. ‘Please, do not tell my mistress you heard that from me. I mean, everybody knows, but—’
‘It’s all right, lassie. We’ll keep ye safe.’
He smiled and went on to enquire about the day of the deaths. Miss Tomkins repeated much of what we’d already heard, and just as my attention was drifting towards the last cucumber sandwich, McGray asked her if she knew the purpose of the séance.
‘I think I do, sir.’
Nine-Nails and I looked up in perfectly synchronised movements.
‘You do?’ I asked.
Miss Tomkins blushed again. ‘Well, I – I’m not sure it will mean anything. I had it from the children, after all. I used to entertain them whenever Mrs Grenville came to visit my mistress.’
McGray and I were on the edge of the sofa.
‘Tell us, lassie. I’m the last man who’d laugh at ye.’
I was going to remark that his tartan trousers w
ere proof of that, but opted not to ; the young woman already looked nervous. Again, she glanced towards the kitchen, making sure Prissy was away.
‘Promise me you won’t tell the family I said this,’ she whispered, and we assured her we’d not betray her confidence.
She took a deep breath.
‘Master Eddie, the colonel’s eldest, told me this when he was just five or six. He said that Grannie Alice – they all called her that, even though she was their great-grandmother – he said that she had promised him a treasure.’
We waited in silence for a moment, and when the words finally settled in my mind I felt my shoulders dropping an inch.
‘A treasure!’ I began, but McGray silenced me with his elbow on my ribs.
‘What kind of treasure?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. She only told him she had a treasure. Something she’d never give her children and grandchildren. Master Eddie said she was saving it for him and his siblings.’
It took me a moment to realise I’d been holding my breath, staring at the girl, with my lips slightly parted and my pencil hovering above the paper.
The statement sounded intriguing and preposterous in exactly equal measure. McGray looked at me with an expression that mirrored my own thoughts.
‘Take note o’ that,’ he told me. ‘We can ask the laddie when we see Mrs Cobbold.’
Miss Tomkins was staring at the carpet. ‘I’m afraid Grannie Alice died soon after Eddie told me that, and as I said, he was very young then. He might not be able to tell you much more.’
‘We’ll still try, lassie. Thanks for trusting me – I mean us.’
She gave him a coquettish smile.
Right after I had the last sandwich I told her we must go. I did not tell her, however, that I intended to telegram the Kirkcaldy constables at once and ask them to make sure Mrs Cobbold did not leave town.
Nine-Nails said goodbye in a most effusive manner, and since I did not wish to witness his obtuse dallying, I walked out and went straight to the road. He joined me only a moment later.
I said, ‘A little too plain for you, is she not?’
I looked up then and, to my dismay, found that Miss Tomkins had just opened the window and was waving at us. I swiftly turned on my heels and we walked away, McGray grinning.
‘Aye, like ye only pick feathery angels.’
He had far too much ammunition there, so I pulled the conversation back to the case.
‘We need to see Mrs Cobbold as soon as possible. Today, even.’
That deflated him at once.
‘Kirkcaldy …’ he mumbled, right before reaching for a cigar.
‘Indeed.’
‘That’s on the other side o’ the Firth o’ Forth.’
I allowed myself a half-smile.
‘Hardly a couple of hours away … That is, if we travel by ferry.’
18
Strong draughts of salty air came from the east, lashing the choppy waters and making the ferry sway violently from side to side. The sky was a blur of white and grey, but at least it was not raining. I could have almost called the trip pleasant, had it not been for McGray’s guttural gagging as he leaned on the gunwale to empty his stomach into the
estuary.
‘Oh,’ I said, feigning innocence, ‘I did not remember at all that you get such severe bouts of seasickness …’
His only reply was an even stronger spurt of vomit, and I took a few steps aside to avoid the splatter.
We had only stopped briefly to telegram the Kirkcaldy constabulary, and did not even wait for a reply. We had then rushed to Leith Harbour, where we’d managed to catch the last ferry of the day. We would have to spend the night over there, since following the coastal road would take us just as long.
As I thought of that, I looked west, and amidst the morning haze I saw the milky outlines of Forth Bridge, still under construction. It looked nearly ready, and some said it might be finished before the end of the year ; then again, they’d been saying that since 1885, so I had my reservations.
McGray let out a particularly loud heave, and I decided I’d take advantage of his sorry state and ask him a few uncomfortable questions.
‘Do you remember what Walter Fox told us?’
McGray barely managed to give me a nod.
‘I have been thinking about what he said about Leonora.’
‘What d’ye— The—?’
‘No, not that Katerina might know murky things about them. Although that will be a concern …’
‘Then … whah—?’
‘I mean what he said about Katerina humouring the girl, only to get money out of her.’
He glared at me from the gunwale, and I showed him a smirk.
‘Do not tell me you still believe Katerina is above defrauding gullible clients.’
‘Well … nae, but—’
‘She herself admitted to deceiving people! That will not look good in court. I am fearing most of her statements will be disregarded no sooner than she speaks them.’
‘Percy … d’ye—?’
‘Do you think her above taking advantage of what people tell her?’
‘I-I wouldnae—’
‘Oh, would you please finish with that and answer me?’
McGray spat the last bit of bile and wiped his mouth with a rag given by one of the sailors. He looked so green it made me ill to look at him.
‘Well … aye,’ he managed after a few short breaths, ‘she may take advantage here ’n’ there, but it’s mostly trifling stuff – the odd blackmailing of a cheating husband … pretending that a merchant’s dead grannie is asking him to buy ale from a pious gypsy … Ye ken, trifles!’
‘So it is not impossible that she might have wanted something from the Shaws and Willbergs ; that she may have planned to swindle them in one way or another.’
McGray pinched his septum, barely keeping the nausea at bay.
‘I wouldnae bet my Tucker’s life on her morals, but—’ He shook his head. ‘Murder, Frey? Murder six people? And if she was able to plot a murder that had us all scratching our heads, why then frame herself in such a clumsy way?’
‘What would strike you the most? The murders themselves, or the clumsiness?’
He could not answer, turning back to the sea and readying himself to spit out another batch.
‘McGray, could she … could she have thought you’d be able to get her out of it?’
But he only answered me with spew.
He looked so frail and miserable, I spoke with unprecedented frankness.
‘Could she have believed she was untouchable, having such close connections with the police? Could that have made her overconfident? Emboldened her to commit such a horrible act?’
McGray could only give me a fleeting look, and in his sickness he betrayed himself ; I saw a hint of doubt in him as well.
Just as the wind began to dwindle, we docked at the surprisingly busy piers of Kirkcaldy.
The smell of the town’s whale oil factory was unbearable, and it did not do much to ease McGray’s queasiness.
As soon as we alighted he went to a merchant lady, snatched a piece of raw ginger from her stall and began gnawing on it. I gave him some time to recover, staring at my pocket watch the entire time and trying not to look too amused by his disgrace. We then called a two-seater cab that took us south.
Besides whale oil, the town also had the dusty smells of industry, filled with wood yards, mills and warehouses all clustered along the seafront, but the farther we rode, the quieter things became. Within a few minutes endless grassland opened up to our right, and to the left we had the grey waters of the River Forth, the southern shore but a dark strip on the horizon.
We approached a group of leafy oaks, until I saw that they surrounded the lawns of a small granite house, situated a hundred yards or so from the riverbank. There was no sound other than the river and the breeze, and I envied the peace of that little plot of land.
As the cab turned around the t
rees, I saw a thin constable with a preposterous moustache dismounting from a rather measly horse.
‘Wait for us,’ McGray told the driver, and we stepped down. ‘Got our message, laddie?’
‘Aye, sir,’ said the constable, ‘but we had a wee bit of a squabble at The Turf Tavern. I came as soon as I could.’
‘What’s yer name?’
‘Constable Talbot, sir. Is it true this has to do with the scandal of that gypsy—?’
‘Follow us,’ McGray rasped, and then zigzagged towards the house, his legs still somewhat flimsy from seasickness.
We knocked at the door and I took a deep breath. ‘We should be cautious. We will either find that Mrs Cobbold has packed and fled with her grandchildren – and you might want that, McGray, for then she’d become the main suspect – or we will find her utterly distraught. Both her father and her daughter died that night.’
A wide woman opened the door. She was quite old, stumpy, lacked two front teeth, and wore her white hair in two coarse braids. She cast Constable Talbot a suspicious look.
‘What youse want?’
I let McGray do the talking. He is better than me amongst rustic Scots.
‘Is Mrs Cobbold home, missus?’
‘Why?’
‘We need to see her. It’s about the—’
‘I can see what it’s about. Come in if youse must.’
Right then the wind brought us the voices of children playing somewhere behind the house, and I let out a sigh of relief.
‘You better wait outside,’ I whispered to the constable. ‘It looks like the woman has not fled. We do not want to upset her too much. Not yet, at least.’
Talbot looked rather disappointed but did step back.
The housekeeper took us to a very nice sitting room, as cosy and neat as the one we’d seen at St Andrew Square. Mrs Cobbold’s expensive taste was evident, with the nice upholstery and the enormous planters. The room’s best asset, however, was its wide south windows, looking over the field that separated the house from the river. On a very clear night, I thought, all the lights of Edinburgh could be seen from there.
The Darker Arts Page 14