‘You said all that?’ Tessa was shocked. Mrs Curzon had clearly overstepped several lines and infuriated her mother; however, she was grateful to the old busybody if it had provoked her mother into adjusting her attitudes.
‘I did indeed. I know that I am rather old-fashioned in my views but I will do my best to accept that you wish to live differently.’ Her mother kissed her cheek, preparing to leave. ‘Major Henderson cares for you a good deal, I think, Tessa. Be careful not to break his heart.’ And while Tessa stood, positively dumbstruck, her mother set off down the stairs. ‘I’ll see you later. Shall we say seven o’clock?’
Tessa was left in the drawing room, somewhat stunned, listening to her mother’s shoes tapping down the stairs and across the hall. When she heard the door close she went to the window and saw Lady Elspeth pause on the pavement, looking down at the basement windows, before smiling to herself and turning towards Heriot Row.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The back seat of the Vauxhall was cramped and, after a certain amount of polite debate outside the police station, Bill ended up folding his tall frame into the space in the back, while Inspector Rasmussen took the more dignified front seat next to Tessa.
Departing from Royal Circus that morning had felt rather strange – Bill appearing from the basement flat while she waited for him in the hall. He had dined out somewhere the previous evening and Tessa had eaten with her parents. When she’d returned to her house, the basement had been in darkness and she guessed that Bill had already turned in. He’d left a hastily scrawled note on the hall table informing her of the time he’d agreed for them to meet Rasmussen the following day. Tessa had climbed the stairs to bed feeling a little lonely and wondering whether, for all her brave words, she would be happy living alone, especially when Bill returned to London. Now was not the time to brood though, so Tessa pushed those doubts away and concentrated on the matter in hand.
Rasmussen looked a little nervous at the speed at which Tessa took some of the bends on the Melrose road as they headed south to the Borders, and in the tiny wing mirror Tessa caught sight of Bill smiling at the other man’s apprehension. After one particular bend, taken very smartly in hill-climb fashion as Tessa saw her line and accelerated into the curve, and which caused Rasmussen’s knuckles to whiten, she felt Bill’s hand on her shoulder, subtly suggesting that she refrain from her usual dashing style and slow down just a little. As she did so, she saw Rasmussen relax, no longer looking as though he would have preferred to take the train or one of the police force’s own, more sedate, motorcars.
Melrose was a small town and Tessa had only visited once before to attend a house party a mile or two outside. It had been during one of the more fraught periods of her marriage, and she recalled spending a good chunk of time walking the hills in the area, avoiding the sidelong glances of the other women and the sneaking suspicion that they knew something she didn’t. Which of course they probably did, she now realised.
Parking near the station so that Rasmussen could get his bearings and look at the map to check Corporal McNiven’s address, she got out to stretch her legs and looked around. It was a pretty town with sandstone buildings and a wide main street, big enough to be bustling, but not so cosmopolitan that a woman in a fast motorcar didn’t turn heads.
The cottage where the corporal lived with his mother was down one of the back streets. It was one of a row, and although clearly not luxurious, it was clean and tidy with terracotta pots by the front door showing the first cheerful shoots of daffodils. Their arrival caused a degree of consternation to Mrs McNiven when she opened the front door and took in the unsmiling demeanour of Inspector Rasmussen brandishing his warrant card and the taller figure of Bill, still military despite his tweed suit. Tessa slipped in front of them and introduced herself, smiling in her most charming manner.
‘I think my husband, Major Kilpatrick, may have served with your son, Mrs McNiven. Perhaps he mentioned him?’
‘Aye. I’m not sure he thought a lot to him.’ The woman folded her arms, assessing Tessa. ‘You’re his wife you say?’
‘Yes. Tessa Kilpatrick.’
‘I’ve heard of you, hen. Robbie says you were injured and invalided home. As I recall, he said you had a better reputation than your husband.’
‘That’s very kind of him, but I’m sure he’s flattering me.’ Tessa smiled, hoping these favourable but no doubt inaccurate tales would dispose Mrs McNiven to help them. ‘We need to talk to your son. There have been a couple of—’ She paused, wondering whether she should describe them as murders, especially given that Mrs McNiven seemed unaware of James’s demise. ‘A couple of incidents that we think might be related to James’s and Robbie’s time in the army. He might have some useful information.’ She caught Rasmussen’s sharp look in the corner of her eye and ignored him. He might feel usurped but she was certain that this woman would be more forthcoming to her.
‘Well, I dinnae ken. He’s at work and they won’t want the police turning up. Jobs are hard to come by these days.’
‘I know. But it’s very important. Is he working somewhere local?’
‘At Boswell House. It’s a big place a couple of miles away. He works in the stables there.’
‘For the Grays? I haven’t seen them in ages. Are they well?’
‘Very. Of course, they managed to keep their sons at home to run the estate so they haven’t suffered like most.’
‘I know. They were lucky.’ Tessa said with just the right degree of emphasis and an upward flicker of her eyebrows; the other woman smiled at last, realising that Tessa was a like-minded ally.
Many people had noticed the way that the two Gray sons had remained safely at home in the Borders while so many had been conscripted. Even in Edinburgh it had been commented upon. It was assumed that the position of their family within the area must have helped to sway the decision of the recruiting board to agree that the young men’s roles in running the family’s estate was truly essential. Last time Mrs Gray had met Tessa she’d been decidedly embarrassed when Tessa had asked whether her family were well. Tessa was pretty sure that the Grays wouldn’t dare reprimand McNiven if she, Rasmussen and Bill called on him during his working day.
‘I think we’ll pop up to the house and see if he’s free. The Grays have known me for a long time so they might make an exception. We won’t press it though. What time does he get home?’
‘Not until about six. He takes his piece with him for lunch.’
Leaving Mrs McNiven with grateful thanks for her help and promises to be mindful of causing trouble for her son, the three of them walked back to Tessa’s motorcar.
‘What do you think? Shall we wait for him to get home, or go up to Boswell House?’ Tessa pulled on her gloves and settled herself in the driver’s seat. She hoped that the inspector would prefer the latter option as, having decided to brave the Inveries’ party that evening, she was determined to be back in Edinburgh in time.
‘I think we’ll go to the house. I’d like to get this done and I don’t like the idea of driving all the way back to Edinburgh in the dark.’ Rasmussen sounded decisive; Tessa suspected it was more that he didn’t fancy sitting beside her as they drove back to Edinburgh in the pitch darkness, rather than the idea of night-time driving itself.
Boswell House was a large, rather uninteresting, stone house standing squarely in the middle of parkland that had been laid out with more enthusiasm than artistry and now, a century and a half later, looked rather cluttered, with few if any elegant vistas and little bucolic charm.
It wasn’t only the deer grazing beside the drive who had noticed her arrival, and by the time she pulled up on the gravel by the front door, Mrs Gray was on the step. They may have kept their sons at home but it seemed that the staff had been somewhat depleted, with not even a housemaid to greet visitors. Then again, Tessa knew that Mrs Gray was notoriously tight-fisted and the staff of whom could be found these days picked and chose their employers. Neither did they want to live in the countrys
ide. Looking rather surprised, Mrs Gray surveyed Tessa and her motorcar and the two serious-faced men.
‘Tessa, I mean, Lady Kilpatrick. How lovely to see you.’ It wasn’t at all lovely, and Tessa knew that, but nonetheless she smiled and advanced with an extended hand.
‘Mrs Gray, it’s been so long. I hope you and your family are all well.’
‘Well yes, but…’ Knowing how to speak to an acquaintance with a recently murdered husband who turned up on your doorstep without warning was quite the social conundrum, Tessa realised. With the party ahead of her, she knew that it was going to happen several more times before the day was out.
‘This is Inspector Rasmussen from the Edinburgh constabulary, and Major Bill Henderson. The inspector is investigating the death of my husband and needs to speak to one of your grooms. He’s not a suspect, it’s just that he knew poor James during the war. Would it be all right to pop round to the stables?’ Tessa was brisk, looking to the side, for all the world ready to vanish in search of McNiven without waiting for approval.
‘Naturally. I’ll take you there.’
‘Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll find the yard. Thank you so much.’ She smiled brightly.
‘Very well. Just follow the house round to the left.’ Not a woman of the most piercing intellect, Mrs Gray seemed a little dazed. ‘But afterwards, when you’ve spoken to him, you must come and take tea. I’m sure we have a great deal to catch up on.’ The urge to know the latest gossip had trumped her horror of the police on the doorstep.
‘Absolutely. That would be lovely.’ Tessa lied through her charming smile, already starting in the direction of the stables. Out of sight and out of earshot, she looked round at Rasmussen and Bill. ‘She really is the most dreadful woman. Her husband sold their Edinburgh house before the war and so she’s horribly behind on all the gossip, and gossip was her main pastime. That and interviewing new staff because hers keep giving notice. We’ll try to sneak off without staying for tea.’
‘I doubt we’ll manage that. I reckon she’s determined to know the news about James’s death.’ Bill observed. ‘Imagine, she might be able to brag that she had his murderous wife in the house.’
‘Well, that’s a reason not to stay.’ Tessa shot him a filthy look, irritated that he would joke about that, especially in front of Rasmussen. She knew that suspicion still lingered around her and maybe this whole charade of pursuing other avenues of investigation and of letting Tessa accompany Rasmussen was simply so he could observe her, and maybe even catch her saying something incriminating.
The stable yard was quiet. A couple of hunters looked over their half-doors, idly wondering who the new arrivals were, but otherwise it seemed deserted. Like many yards, both grooms and horses had been in short supply during the war and now motorcars and tractors were replacing the equine workforce that estates had once relied upon. A couple of hunters and some heavy horses for carting hay were all most people had, and so yards like this, once busy with bloodstock and stable lads, were now shadows of their former selves.
While Rasmussen went to knock on a tack room door, she wandered over and patted an inquisitive chestnut head. He was grey of muzzle, too old to have been requisitioned for the cavalry, and he whickered to Tessa as she stroked his neck and breathed in the comforting smell of warm horse and hay. So many of the grooms who’d joined up had found themselves learning about engines and were now better paid chauffeurs and mechanics. Tessa wondered whether in twenty years’ time anyone would keep horses or whether these half-empty yards would be completely deserted.
‘Can I help ye?’ A groom, around fifty of so, in tweed and breeches with a thick muffler around his neck, appeared from the next door box.
‘Hello. I’m Tessa Kilpatrick. Mrs Gray said that we might find McNiven here. This is Inspector Rasmussen from the Edinburgh police.’ She waved a hand in the inspector’s general direction, still patting her new equine friend.
‘Good morning. Can I ask what you want with the boy?’ He sounded suspicious; both of them and the trouble McNiven might be in.
‘Oh, it’s nothing serious.’ Tessa assured him in soothing tones, ignoring the expression on Rasmussen’s face; he clearly didn’t like her playing down the reason for their visit in this way. ‘Just a couple of questions about friends of his from the war. His mother said he would be here?’
‘Aye. He’s gone down to catch up the plough horses. He usually takes his dinner with him to eat down there. He should be back soon. You could walk down and see if you catch him there.’ The older man waved a hand towards a track. ‘They’re in the bottom field, just behind the barn.’
‘Thank you.’ Tessa gave the chestnut a final slap to the neck and started in the direction indicated, followed by Rasmussen and Bill. The track, a little wider than the wheels of the carts that had worn deep grooves, sloped down towards the pasture and a cluster of stone barns and stables where the farming operations would once have been run from. They started down the track, slipping a little on the frozen ruts, and Tessa was glad of her boots.
‘This has been easy. I thought there was every chance that his mother would tell us that McNiven had taken a job miles away.’ Bill sauntered along beside Tessa, hands in pockets. His breeziness seemed a little forced to her and she wondered whether he thought this a wild goose chase that would bring them no nearer to finding the murderer. Maybe he was right. Perhaps the truth would be found among the list of James’s sexual conquests, however much she would prefer to avoid that becoming public knowledge. But they were making progress, even if McNiven couldn’t help and all they would be able to do was draw a line through his name and move on to the next.
‘Just because we’ve found him, doesn’t mean he’ll have anything of use to tell us.’ Rasmussen echoed Tessa’s thoughts and she rolled her eyes; his pessimism was becoming wearing.
‘Anything, however trivial, will help. We’ve little enough to go on at the moment.’
As they approached the barns, the trio paused for a moment while Rasmussen jotted something down neatly in his notebook. Frustrated by his inability to do anything without recording it for posterity, Tessa turned to look at the two chestnut Clydesdales in the field, presumably soon to be caught up by McNiven and put to work – for now they grazed peacefully. They looked up at the visitors, but were loathe to abandon the spring grass even when Tessa clicked her tongue and held out a hand. It was peaceful, the sun surprisingly warm with the promise of spring and Tessa turned her face skywards, enjoying the feeling of winter ebbing away.
And then a sound, sharp and loud and unmistakably a gunshot, rang out. The horses reared and galloped away – Tessa, Bill and Rasmussen looked at each other. That was no gamekeeper potting a rabbit.
‘Stay here, both of you.’ Rasmussen started to run towards the barns; Tessa and Bill ignored his instruction and followed. All three of them knowing that the killer was tantalisingly and dangerously close, if one step ahead of them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
They paused on reaching the barn, shrinking back against the rough stone. To rush in was risky. They needed to scope out the situation so that they didn’t end up meeting the same fate that had probably befallen McNiven. Nor were any of them armed, the day having begun as a peaceful, information-gathering trip to the countryside where no-one expected to come face-to-face with a killer.
‘What now?’ Tessa knew what she would do if she were alone and faced with an enemy, but this was different. Around the waist of her cardigan was a narrow leather belt. She slipped it off and flexed the leather, nice and supple. Coiling it into one hand, she looked at Rasmussen expectantly.
‘What are you doing?’ He looked at the belt in her hand.
‘I don’t have a weapon so this will have to do as a makeshift garrotte.’ She glanced around. ‘I’ll take this side of the barn. Hopefully, if I come across our quarry, I’ll be behind him.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Rasmussen hissed, seeing his carefully followed procedures being torn u
p and scattered before him.
‘Would you like to make a better suggestion? We need to make sure the coast is clear before we see what state McNiven’s in and there’s no point waiting here while there’s still a chance we could catch our killer.’ This was when Tessa was at her best, reckless as that might seem to some. She took a step towards the corner of the barn, ready to scout out the lay of the land, but Bill caught her arm.
‘Tessa, wait.’
‘Why? We’re standing here while a murderer is probably making his escape and there might still be a chance of saving McNiven. Let’s not dither. That’s not the sort of people we are.’ She was fierce and she saw both men bridle at her implied criticism.
‘Very well. You go round the back, you take the front, Henderson, and I’ll get the doors open and see what we’re dealing with inside.’ Rasmussen spoke firmly, taking charge once again.
Tessa peered round the corner of the barn. Its rough stone wall stretched away for around fifty feet to her right. To the left, about ten feet away, was a fence and the space between the two seemed to have become a repository for rusty ploughs and abandoned seed drills. There was no sign of life and she started to move along the wall, careful where she put her feet on the rough ground, alert to signs of her quarry, scanning the landscape to her left for movement.
Taking a deep breath, focusing on the task in hand, she felt the weight of the belt in her hand and remembered a time she’d pursued an enemy in a similar way. That time she’d known he was there, following the heavy reek of his Gauloise cigarettes, and when she’d rounded the corner and seen the unsuspecting German officer before her, it had been simple to loop the garrotte around his neck and yank it tight. Tracking an enemy once more, she felt a cold sweat of adrenaline on her back and a sickness in the pit of her stomach.
At the corner of the building, she paused, listening carefully for a footstep, a breath even. When she moved slightly to the side, squinting along the wall around the corner, her heart leapt at a movement in the split second before she realised that it was Bill, the other half of the pincer.
Death Will Find Me (A Tessa Kilpatrick Mystery, Book 1) Page 16