Death Will Find Me (A Tessa Kilpatrick Mystery, Book 1)

by Vanessa Robertson

  Tessa laid the letter down on the blotter and leaned back in her chair. She hadn’t expected people to come so close to outright accusation. How many people, if someone was not held to account, would go on thinking that Tessa had got away with murder? And although she was sure that Inspector Rasmussen was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now, how could she possibly expect him not to try to pin this on her if no other suspect could be found? After all, his superiors would want to see someone held to account.

  Unable to face writing or reading any more letters, Tessa screwed the cap back onto her fountain pen and zipped the letter from Caroline inside her writing case, careful not to leave it where her mother might stumble across it. The others remained in a pile that she’d rather throw out. Lady Elspeth was a stickler for etiquette and keen to avoid gossip. The daughter of a duke, she had married a businessman, albeit one with a baronetcy, and she was aware that some would always sneer at her family for their associations with trade. Therefore, social niceties were observed and standards were maintained.

  Tessa’s arrival at the Heriot Row house the afternoon before had given her mother plenty to pass comment on: from the disreputable nature of her driving clothes (surely it was time to throw out that dreadful greatcoat? And as for her trousers…); to the unsuitable nature of her car (so loud, so fast, such an inadequate roof); to reproachful enquires as to Hector’s well-being (such a shame that he decided to keep the funeral so private). Thus far, Tessa had kept quiet about the details of James’s will, but when her mother heard about that she would have even more to say. She knew that she would have to tell her, before any assumptions about Tessa’s situation were made. This evening they were to be joined for dinner by Tessa’s much loved Aunt Ishbel, and Tessa planned to drop the news into the conversation and pray that Ishbel would deflect or at least dilute much of her mother’s ire at this slighting of her daughter.

  The bell jangled in the hallway and Tessa heard feet on the flagstones as someone went to answer it. She had already warned Kincaid of the inspector’s imminent arrival, but by the time the front door swung shut she was already in the hall, eager to show Rasmussen the evidence she’d found.

  There were the usual formalities while beverages were offered and accepted and the inspector’s coat and hat were borne off to the hall cupboard. They shook hands and sat down at the table. While Kincaid brought coffee and poured, Rasmussen recapped the progress they had made in the last few days. As far as Tessa could tell, there was no progress.

  Rasmussen opened his notebook, flicked back a few pages and passed it to Tessa. ‘This is a list of all the guests who were at the house when your husband was killed. Can you see any names missing?’

  Tessa scanned down the list. Everyone she could remember was there, including Caroline and quite a few other single women. She wondered how many of them also had intimate knowledge of her husband.

  ‘No. I can’t think of anyone else who was there. There will have been valets and lady’s maids, although I wouldn’t know how many, or their names. People tend to look after themselves much more these days.’

  ‘You said that you had something to show me?’ Rasmussen was straight to the point as soon as the butler had left the room.

  ‘Yes, when Mrs Meikle – she’s the housekeeper at Glenogle House – and I were sorting out James’s clothes, she found this.’ Tessa unfolded the handkerchief and pushed the scrap of paper across the table. It looked far less significant now.

  Rasmussen reached for the note and Tessa thought she heard him sigh. She knew the handkerchief wasn’t the best way to transport evidence, but it was all she’d had to hand and she hadn’t wanted to disturb it again when she got home.

  ‘Do you recognise the handwriting?’

  ‘No. It doesn’t look particularly distinctive. Definitely female though, I’d have thought.’ Tessa noticed Rasmussen looking at the stack of letters to one side of the table and she passed him one of the responses she’d been working on. Her own penmanship was fast and angular, with little of the neatness and control shown by the note’s author.

  ‘And do you know how this message might have reached your husband?’

  ‘I don’t, I’m afraid. Anyone could have given it to him, I suppose.’

  ‘I’ll have to interview all the guests again. The servants too.’ This time his sigh was less well-concealed. ‘This note was found by the housekeeper?’

  ‘Yes. There was a little hidden pocket in the lining of his jacket that she spotted. This was in it.’ Tessa smiled. ‘Don’t worry Inspector, there was an independent witness, it wasn’t a miraculous discovery that I happened upon just by myself.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Rasmussen looked up at her. ‘But Mrs Meikle is employed by your family. Hardly the most objective of people, is she?’

  ‘Well, no, I suppose not.’ Tessa hadn’t imagined that Mrs Meikle’s honesty would be impugned. ‘But she’s employed by James’s father. She’s known James all his life. If she thought I’d killed him she’d be unlikely to corroborate my story, surely?’

  The inspector gave a small shrug and wrote something in his notebook, presumably a reminder to interview Mrs Meikle.

  ‘Lady Kilpatrick, why do you think someone might have given this note to your husband?’ Rasmussen turned to a clean page in his notebook. ‘Although, we are assuming that it was from his murderer, he must have thought that it was an innocent request, otherwise why would he have gone to the boathouse? Who might have sent such a note?’

  ‘A lover.’ Tessa could think of no-one else who would feel the need to talk to him away from other eyes, who would want to see him alone. And it was a woman’s handwriting she was sure, not that of an angry, cuckolded husband.

  ‘I see.’ He flicked back a few pages in his notebook. ‘Miss Caroline Harvey?’

  ‘Possibly. But she wouldn’t need to make a secret assignation with him. I knew that they were having an affair. They were together when James and I argued. Everyone knew. There was no need for her or anyone else to lure him down to the boathouse.’ Tessa had been so excited at finding the note that she’d given no real thought to who it was from and why they might have sent it. She’d been pretty certain that it must have been the murderer; however, she’d been in such a hurry to pass it on to Rasmussen that she’d not considered the obvious question. Tessa shook her head, disappointed in herself at making such an amateur error.

  ‘Were there other women that he was…?’ Rasmussen’s voice tailed off as though he was unsure of the best way to phrase his rather delicate question.

  ‘Yes. There were others.’

  ‘Could you make a list?’

  ‘Not a definitive one.’ Tessa’s tone was sharp and she could have sworn Rasmussen blushed just a little. ‘I can guess at possible names but I’m sure there are some I don’t know about.’

  ‘Will you make me a list, please? Those who you know were involved with your husband and those who might have been? I shall have to talk to all of them.’

  Tessa thought for a moment. Making a list like this, policemen approaching all of these women to enquire as to the nature of their relationship with her husband, would be throwing a stick of dynamite into their lives. Especially if she was wrong; after all, the only woman she conclusively knew about was Caroline. This could ruin reputations, marriages in some cases, and she would surely be seen as vengeful and bitter for making these accusations, because few if any of the women would admit publicly that her assessment had been correct. Tessa wasn’t at all sure she wanted to make that list.

  ‘I’m not sure I can think of many names, Inspector.’

  ‘Really?’ He laid down his pen. ‘This note implies that your husband may have been killed by someone with whom he was intimately acquainted. Some of his friends may be able to come up with some names, but going to those friends for a list will cause yet more gossip. Yet without those names, we’ll never get to the bottom of this and we might never know who murdered your husband.’

 
; Tessa knew that, but she also knew that Edinburgh was a tightly-knit place and the repercussions of this could last for years. She cared little for the individuals concerned; however, this could alienate so many people. People would either know that she had guessed at their role in her husband’s habitual infidelity, or else they would be offended that she could imagine such a thing of them. And there was no way that a series of police interviews like that could be kept secret. James’s infidelity would be the talk of the city.

  ‘I’ll leave you to think about it.’ Rasmussen folded the note back into the handkerchief and put it in his inside jacket pocket, snapped the band around his notebook, screwed the cap on his pen and drained his coffee.

  ‘I will try to make that list.’

  ‘Please do. You should know that people we have interviewed are of the opinion that you are most probably responsible for your husband’s death.’ He spoke a little hesitantly, his phrasing even more precise than usual. ‘Some are surprised that you are not already in prison. If we are to solve this case, if we are to remove any stain from your name, then I need that list.’

  And he left, leaving Tessa to consider his words and decide which option she preferred: the devil that was the suspicion which would dog her at every turn or the deep blue sea of a very public scandal, quite apart from the fact that if she didn’t comply, James’s murderer might escape justice.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Water of Leith was fast-flowing with melt water from the Pentland Hills and the air was crisp and cold. A mile or so along the riverbank with the dogs had cleared Tessa’s head and rid her of the indecision she’d been feeling since Rasmussen’s visit that morning. By the time she, Bosun and Mycroft turned homewards, heading towards Heriot Row and a warm fire, she was resolved. She would make the list and take it to Rasmussen at Torphichen Street police station the next morning. She didn’t want to unfairly accuse anyone of being up to no good with her husband, but if finding James’s murderer meant some people had to brazen out a little embarrassment then so be it.

  In the short term, she needed to warn her parents, especially her mother, of the grenade she was about to lob into the centre of Edinburgh society; she feared that the list of James’s known and possible lovers would be long and the fallout significant.

  She whistled to the dogs, calling them away from their fossicking on the riverbank and turned up the steep hill of Bell’s Brae. The evening was drawing in. A few street lamps were lit, their lights glinting off the slick granite setts. For no reason she could name, the back of Tessa’s neck prickled. Just as at the boathouse, she had a feeling she wasn’t alone. It unnerved her. After she’d come home in 1917, she’d had spells of paranoia where she thought that she was being followed or that an intruder was in the house. Those had grown fewer, although she knew she was probably more vigilant than most when it came to locking doors and noticing strangers. She hoped James’s murder wasn’t going to drag her back to those fears.

  Then she heard the scuff of a boot on the cobbles behind her and knew this was no irrational fear. Someone was following her. Tessa’s every sense was electrified and she spun round, fists clenched by her side to face whatever fear was behind her.

  A woman in her late twenties was walking a rather portly black Labrador. She gave Tessa a curious look as she walked on, clearly somewhat taken aback. Tessa leaned against the stone wall, taking deep breaths and waiting for her racing pulse to slow. It seemed James’s death had dredged up aspects of her past that she’d hoped were packed away for good.

  Ishbel, her father’s sister, was joining them for dinner that evening and she was always a useful ally. Newly returned from Kenya after her third husband succumbed to cholera, Ishbel was a staunch ally of Tessa’s. Insulated by the family’s wealth, Ishbel had never needed to concern herself with the approval of others. She lived on her own terms and Tessa planned to emulate her, even if she wasn’t yet sure what form those terms would take. Both Ishbel and Tessa were supporters of women’s suffrage, but they also knew it was money that gave women true independence and that they were fortunate.

  At a dinner held a few weeks earlier to mark her return, Ishbel had managed to silence the entire table with one of her more independent assertions. When Tessa’s mother made a reference to the probability of Ishbel marrying again in the future, Ishbel had declared that as marriage to her seemed to end so badly for her poor husbands, she rather thought she might stick to taking lovers instead. All the fun and none of the tears.

  Sir David had managed to conceal his laughter with a well-timed bout of coughing, and Tessa and James had managed to keep more or less straight faces, but the other half dozen members of Edinburgh’s great and good had been quite shocked. Especially the recently widowed landowner whom Lady Elspeth, in matchmaking mood, had invited to join them.

  ‘You’re making a list of James’s lovers so that they can be interviewed by the police?’ As expected, Tessa’s mother was aghast.

  ‘And possible lovers. I have no choice, Mama. Not really.’ Tessa looked across at her aunt, prompting her.

  ‘It’s for the best, Elspeth, surely you can see that?’ Ishbel was soothing. ‘After all, you want Tessa to put this behind her, don’t you? Imagine how dreadful it will be if people continue to gossip.’

  ‘Well, maybe…’

  ‘If James’s murderer isn’t caught, the suspicion around Tessa will be terrible. She won’t be invited anywhere and she’ll have no hope of finding another husband.’ Ishbel was laying it on a bit thick now, and Tessa hoped the conversation wasn’t going to turn into a discussion of her marital prospects.

  ‘People will be embarrassed to be included on such a list.’

  ‘Probably. But I won’t include anyone unless I think there’s a fair chance that they did have some sort of entanglement with James, and they should probably be more horrified their manner led me to think it. And if I’m right, they deserve all they get.’ So many women flirted with James, and he with them, that Tessa knew it would be a longer list than her mother imagined. Perhaps it would be best not to let her see it.

  ‘Mind you, Tessa, it’s the perfect opportunity to settle some old scores if you have any grudges. Imagine, girls who bullied you at school having the police on their doorstep.’ Ishbel found this amusing. ‘I can think of a few people that I’d include just to see them squirm.’

  ‘I also made a decision while I was walking, Mama.’ Tessa decided to distract her mother. ‘I’m going to move into the house at Royal Circus. The decorators have finished and all it needs is for the furniture to be delivered. I think it’s time I lived on my own rather than with my parents.’

  ‘But you’re in mourning.’ Lady Elspeth was horrified yet again and Tessa felt a little guilty at heaping so much on her in one evening. ‘You can’t move house so soon after James’s death.’

  ‘I’m not mourning James, Mama.’ Tessa had had enough of trying to explain this. ‘James lost the right to have me live like a nun for months when I caught him with that woman. She wasn’t even the first. We were planning to divorce.’

  ‘But people don’t know that. What will they think?’ Lady Elspeth, had been brought up in an age where other people’s attitudes mattered: whether about the dress you wore for your coming out ball or how sparkling your dinner conversation. Everything was judged and those scores were remembered. Her daughter’s lack of patience with such etiquette was genuinely beyond her comprehension even if, truth be told, she rather admired her daughter’s attitude.

  ‘People can think what they like. Choosing to live in my own house is fairly minor, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think it’s an excellent idea.’ Tessa’s father had kept quiet during the discussion of the list for Inspector Rasmussen. ‘We gave Tessa and James that house. Should it stay empty? Is Tessa expected to live at home with her parents for the rest of our lives? That doesn’t sound much fun to me, Elspeth. Besides, there’s no point trying to sell it. No-one’s buying houses like that at the mom
ent and we’ve spent a fortune on it.’ Ever the businessman, thought Tessa.

  ‘Maybe.’ Lady Elspeth thought he was prone to overindulging their only child. ‘But you will need staff, Tessa. Linen, plates, saucepans – it isn’t simply a case of having your furniture brought from storage.’

  ‘I know. Perhaps you could help me with that?’ Tessa smiled at her mother, pleased two fences had been cleared and that independence was awaiting her in a furlong or two.

  Making the list of James’s possible lovers, was harder than Tessa expected. She and Ishbel seated themselves on the library sofa after dinner and started to think of names to include. Caroline was at the top. Next came a couple of women whom Tessa had observed alternating admiring glances at James with more calculating ones in her direction. There were some whose embraces, when they met James, had seemed just a little too long; others who tended to exclude Tessa from conversations while they flirted with her husband; still more whom she’d noticed were just a little too keen to dance with him. By the time she’d included some of the lovers he’d treated badly before the war but who still might hold a grudge, and those whom she was pretty sure had been rejected by him, the list ran to well over a dozen.

  ‘That’s quite a brigade. James would have been exhausted if he’d succumbed to the charms of even half of them.’ Ishbel handed the sheet of paper back to Tessa.

  ‘I could probably think of more. I’m sharp-eyed and my husband was very handsome and charming. There are a lot of single women around these days and some have looser morals than others. My injuries might not show but people knew they were there, and in a way those imperfections rendered me invisible. This is enough to begin with. If these names don’t lead to anything then we’ll have to spread the net a little wider.’