A Death in the Loch (14 page)

I also like to think I would have been honest enough not to delve into private possessions normally, but to my detriment I knew when acts as despicable as murder came into play one could not play by the normal rules that one has been taught.

I started by going through Mr Short’s room. The first object that caught my eye was an enormous bottle of cologne. I knew from the letter he had sent that he possessed such a thing, but it had not before been placed out among his possessions. A briefcase stood, partly concealed by a curtain, but it was securely locked. A quick glance into the corridor showed me no sign of Merry or anyone else. I started to go through the drawers on his dresser. I found the usual socks, handkerchiefs, cufflinks, and a most unusual box that contained an ingenious opening mechanism that took me some moments to open. When I did I was disappointed to see it contained several rolled-up sections of rubber. These appeared to be covered in talcum powder. I chose not to unroll them as the fit in the box was very snug. I couldn’t conceive of what use these would be, but neither could I see how they could harm anyone. The last item I uncovered of any note was a small box that contained spare cards for Mr Short’s card case. I learned his name was Harold Leech and he was a director of a construction company. Rory, Bertram, and I had been right about the nature of the house gathering.

I had just shut the lid of the box and was sliding it back between the socks where it had been kept, when Merry opened the door. Seeing me with my hands deep in a gentleman’s drawers brought an expression of shock and outrage to her face.

‘It’s not what it looks like,’ I protested.

Chapter Twenty:

Accusations and recriminations abound

Merry refused to discuss the situation. We continued to work through the bedrooms in turn. I felt her eyes on me as I worked alongside her, so I didn’t so much as attempt to place a hair on my head where it shouldn’t be. I did try to do a visual search of each room, but even this was difficult with Merry watching me like a hawk. The only things I noticed were that Mr Bald had extremely large feet and kept a hairbrush on his dresser. I shuddered to think what he might do with it. All four of the other men had pictures of their families on display. Mr Short had a young wife and two small children of indeterminate sex on display. Mr Nose had a wife nearly his own age, but who was still extremely pretty, and three small boys. Mr Beard appeared to have two grown-up sons, but the picture of his wife was edged in black, so I assumed he was a widower. Mr Ministry had a beautiful young wife and four children of varying ages that she was surely too young to have borne. A second wife, I guessed.

When we had finished and were on the way back down the servants’ stair, Merry paused halfway. ‘I ain’t going to tell Rory or Susan what I saw, but I’ll be watching you and if I see anything suspicious I’ll go right to them.’

‘Merry, we’ve known each other for years. You can’t believe I’m a thief.’

‘I know what I saw,’ said Merry firmly. Her face softened slightly. ‘I don’t believe in the normal way of things you’d be tempted, but Gawd knows you’ve been through a lot. I’m putting it down to a mental fit of some kind. I’m only watching you for your own good.’

I struggled internally and then said meekly, ‘Thank you, Merry. It won’t happen again.’

‘Course it won’t,’ said Merry and gave me a quick hug. We separated at the entrance to the kitchen. I took myself off to Rory’s parlour.

‘Merry thinks I’m a thief,’ as I walked through the door without knocking. I then proceeded to explain to Rory, who had been ironing the paper, it arrived very late in the Highlands, what had happened.

‘So it is all about the Kiel Canal,’ said Rory dourly.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but what am I going to do about Merry? I can’t tell her what we are really up to.’

Rory’s face darkened, ‘Did you put Bertram up to that ridiculous party last night?’

‘No, it was entirely his own idea. He thought tongues might be loosed with the addition of some of Richard’s good wine.’

‘I hope he is satisfied with the results.’

‘What happened?’

‘What didn’t,’ said Rory sourly. ‘The one Merry called Mr Beard spent much of the night weeping and lamenting.’

‘He’s a widower,’ I said.

‘Of recent date, I would hazard to guess,’ said Rory. ‘The man has my sympathy, but it’s very difficult for a butler to know what to do when a man collapses weeping in front of him.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I pretended not to see his distress and fetched him a cup of cocoa.’

‘A solution,’ I said.

‘Hmm,’ said Rory, ‘but I was close to weeping myself when Bertram started to sing and do impressions of chorus girls. Apparently, due to his small stature, he often played the female role in his school plays.’

I stored this image away for future perusal at a happier time. ‘He must have been very drunk.’

‘Hmm,’ said Rory, ‘and I hope I’m as broad-minded as the next man, but the stories your Mr Short told could even have curled Mr Bald’s hair.’

‘What?’

‘Lewd,’ said Rory. ‘Unrepeatable in your presence.’

I shrugged. ‘Gentleman.’

‘There was nothing gentle about any of these men. And as for the fight in the garden, it was at that point I informed Bertram of my desire to quit Richard Stapleford’s employ and retired to my bedchamber.’

‘Who fought who?’ I asked.

‘To my eyes it appeared to be a general scrum,’ said Rory. ‘I note that you have no remarked on my resignation.’

‘I assumed it was given in the heat of the moment. These guests obviously went far beyond what it was reasonable to ask you to deal with. I’m sure Bertram will realise you didn’t mean it.’

‘But I did,’ said Rory. ‘I most certainly did.’

A knock at the door interrupted us. Merry poked her head in. ‘Inspector Walker would like to see Miss St John now,’ she said.

‘You’d better go,’ said Rory. ‘The sooner this is all over. The sooner – well, it’s over.’ Merry gave us both an odd look. I left without another word.

Mr Walker was seated in one of the wing-back chairs by the fire. His sergeant, a neat, black-haired man of medium height, stood behind him notebook at the ready. A straight-backed wooden chair had been placed for me. It did not look comfortable.

Inspector Walker, from the top of his perfectly cut short blond hair to his highly polished brogues, was a model of style and decorum. His suit fitted him perfectly and looked to be beyond the price the average policeman could afford. When he spoke his accent clearly showed he came from the upper classes. I didn’t doubt he was a policeman, but I suspected he had been carefully selected for this case.

‘Please be seated, Miss St John,’ he said, indicating the chair. ‘I understand you led the men to where the body was found.’

I waited for his question. Inspector Walker said nothing, but regarded me with clear, grey eyes. Was he waiting for me to confess? The thought flitted across my mind and I dismissed it as ridiculous. I waited.

The inspector turned and spoke in a low voice to his sergeant, who scribbled something in his notebook. I repressed an urge to fidget. Honestly, sometimes I was grateful for my mother’s training.

After what felt like an age Inspector Walker asked, ‘How did you know where the body was?’

‘Merry – I mean Mary – the maid told me where she had found it.’

‘And you recognised the spot immediately despite not being a native of the area?’

‘A loch is a large body of water and difficult to miss.’ I bit the edge of my tongue. Why did I feel so on edge?

‘Indeed,’ said Walker smoothly, ‘and has a correspondingly large circumference. By that I mean …’

‘I know what you mean,’ I interrupted, ‘but despite her shock Merry was very clear where she had been. I have also had occasion to visit this Lodge before.’

‘There was also your rather fraught trip through the countryside when you met a monster, I believe?’ He arched an eyebrow at this. ‘Or was it the German spy?’

‘I was certainly followed by someone,’ I said, ‘and I confess the experience did alarm me. I may have been prey to some ridiculous imaginings.’

‘You don’t strike me as the kind of girl prone to fits of hysteria,’ said Walker, ‘but then perhaps you were under some pressure from other things?’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ I said coldly.

‘I mean,’ said Mr Walker leaning forward and speaking in friendly conversational tone, ‘the murder of Miss Flowers.’

I started in my chair almost knocking it over. ‘You can’t be serious,’ I said.

Mr Walker leaned back in his chair. ‘My friends tell me I have absolutely no sense of humour,’ he said.

‘Why on earth would I want to harm Miss Flowers?’

‘The very question I asked myself,’ said Walker.

‘And what answer did you give yourself?’ My voice sounded waspish even to my own ears.

‘Well, the lady in question was, as I understand, one who had dragged herself up out of her social class. Whereas you have obviously fallen. So jealousy may have been an issue.’

I did not like that he had pinpointed my class so easily. ‘Hardly enough,’ I said.

Mr Walker cocked his head to one side. ‘Perhaps, but circumstances can bring certain emotions to the boil. Such as the lady in question treating you in a demeaning manner and even threatening to have your best friend fired.’

‘Which didn’t happen,’ I pointed out.

Mr Walker continued as if I had not spoken. ‘And then there is the question of the affair the butler, McLeod, isn’t it? Was having with the deceased.’ He paused. ‘And the one he broke off with you.’

‘How dare you!’ I exclaimed, rising to my feet. ‘Mr McLeod was not involved with Miss Flowers.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But there was a time when you certainly believed that to be the case. It all adds up to a most plausible motive, don’t you agree, Sergeant?’

‘In my experience a jilted female is a dangerous creature,’ said the sergeant.

‘You have much experience with them, do you, Sergeant?’ I said in what I hoped was a coldly condescending voice.

‘Indeed, miss,’ he replied, ‘I’ve not long finished a case where such a woman proved to be at the heart of it. Hanging next week, she is.’

Chapter Twenty-one:

Desperate times

Jock thrust a mug of tea into my hand. For once I drank the overly strong brew without protest. ‘Accused you of the murder, did he?’ he asked.

I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak without bursting into tears.

‘Did the same to all of us,’ said Jock. ‘Me, Susan, Merry and McLeod. No idea how he treated ʼem upstairs, but he certainly gave us a going over.’ He chuckled.

‘You too?’ I gasped.

‘Aye, it’s a grand technique. Closes his cases verra quickly. Lots of confessions. He made a good case for me certainly. If I’d done it I might well have cracked.’

‘But the things he knew about me.’

‘Man does his homework,’ said Jock in a voice of respect.

‘He reminded me of those folks you get at the fayres sometimes,’ said Merry. I looked at her quizzically. ‘You know the ones that pretend to tell your fortune and seem to know everything about you. It’s all a trick. They actually get the stuff from you, but in a way you don’t notice.’

I shook my head. ‘No, he definitely knew things about me I didn’t tell him.’

Susan shrugged. ‘Then someone must have told him. Now look sharp – we need to get the luncheon served inspector or no inspector.’

‘Will he eat with them?’ asked Merry.

‘No, he will not,’ said Rory, appearing in the doorway. ‘The
inspector
,’ and he said the word with obvious distaste, ‘will take a cold luncheon in the library with his sergeant. There is no need to prepare anything special, Jock.’

‘Aye, right,’ said Jock with a grin.

The day progressed with a dull mundanity that was at odds with the true situation. Not until late afternoon did I get a chance to speak with Bertram. He came into the kitchen wearing his coat and made what he fondly thought were discreet signals that I should meet him outside. Fortunately only Jock was in the kitchen with me at the time and all his concentration was on his clear soup for dinner, which was currently looking sadly speckled.

Bertram stood hopping from one foot to another in the kitchen garden. He had a tweed cap on his head and had let down the ears so it covered the greater part of his terrible beard. ‘Let’s go into the forest,’ he said, taking my arm.

‘If we must,’ I said.

Bertram kept up a smart pace until we were out of sight of the house. ‘That bloody inspector accused me of murdering Miss Flowers!’ he exclaimed.

‘He accused all the staff too. Though I’m surprised he tried the same tactic with you.’

‘He suggested I was having a liaison with the woman.’ Bertram shuddered dramatically.

‘You didn’t tell him anything about my history with Rory, did you, Bertram?’

‘Good Lord, Euphemia, I’m not a sneak!’ He paused. ‘That gets beaten out of you at school.’

I gave a slight smile. ‘What do you think happened to her?’

‘Well, if it hadn’t been for the maps you found in her room I’d think the silly woman died of the cold. Getting into a loch in winter!’

‘Does the inspector know about the maps?’ I asked.

‘Unless you told him, I suspect not.’

‘Should I tell him?’

‘He’d only want to know why you were snooping. Besides, the maps are probably covered by the Official Secrets Act.’ He scratched under the cap’s ears. ‘By the way, in case you thinking of mentioning it telling someone you’ve signed the official secrets act is also not allowed under the act.’

‘That’s ridiculous. That means there’s a whole line of enquiry the inspector can’t follow unless he’s signed it too.’

‘And we can’t ask him,’ said Bertram. ‘But to be honest, although he’s obviously been briefed that there was some kind of meeting going on here, he’s been very careful not to ask questions about what has been discussed. If he’d signed he wouldn’t have that issue, so I don’t think he has.’

‘But if she was killed because of the maps?’