The Strings of Murder (31 page)

‘But of course, Elgie! You are surely the only person mad enough to willingly travel to Scotland in the last days of November.’

‘Although I must confess that, in a way, I like it.’

‘
Do you?
’

‘Yes. Every time I look at the castle all wrapped in fog it feels as though I am reading a gothic novel. I almost expect to hear the howling wolves and to see the shades of beheaded monks!’

I could only smile at my brother’s nonsense; his dreamy
excitement and his sense of wonder. I lost those qualities a long time ago.

‘In fact, I do have some news to tell you,’ Elgie said in a sterner tone. ‘I received a lengthy telegram from my mother.’

‘
Have you!
What does Catherine have to say?’

‘She is concerned about Father. Apparently your not replying to his letter has affected him more than he would admit.’

‘Of course I did not reply! He sent me an entire treatise on how damning my conduct is!’

‘Well, Mama told me that he is really suffering, and –’

‘Did she ask you to try and persuade me to write back?’

Elgie tilted his head. ‘Erm, certainly not. She asked me to persuade you to
return
as soon as possible – which I must confess, would be no bad thing.’

I let out a loud, wry laugh. ‘Lord, this is not to be borne! Elgie, do not go on! I would hate to speak ill of your mother in front of you!’

That was a tactic typical of Catherine; manipulative and scheming as always. Elgie’s very presence had most likely been championed by her: she knew that Elgie was the only one with a chance of persuading me, so she had washed his brain and sent him all the way to Scotland to bring me back. And then, as usual, she’d end up being a heroine in the eyes of my foolish father.

Elgie resorted to childish pleading. ‘Ian, I know that you and Papa do not always agree but, quite frankly, I do understand his concern.
I myself
do not comprehend why you insist on staying here like a stubborn child. This position is eating you. Look at yourself: tired, poorly shaven
and wearing a navy lounge suit to a formal ball! Do you want to prove something to Father?’

‘Elgie, do not be ridiculous.’

‘Then … do you want to get back at Laurence for the things he has said?’

‘Dammit, no!’

‘Then what is it?’

I shook my head. ‘Forget it. You would never understand …’

‘
Well, how could I, if you will not bloody explain yourself?
’

Elgie had never snapped at me before. Had it been anybody else I would not have bothered to reply, but with him I felt obliged.

I had to meditate for an instant, for even I was not entirely sure about my real motives. I remembered the instant, standing before the steamer that would take me to Scotland, hesitating, about to give it all up and go back to the safety of my family home. Yet something had pushed me forward, and up to then I’d not had time to truly reflect upon it.

In fact, the answer was not that intricate.

‘First, I tried law school, where all we did was read endless Acts only to find a way to bend them. Then off I went to study medicine and found that I lacked the character for it … And then I even tried staying at home like Oliver, but nothing ever felt right. Finally, in the CID I thought I’d found my place; my job there was something I was fit for doing and that I utterly enjoyed. I finally felt like I was something more than hollow-headed gentry; I was doing something meaningful! And then all this whirl of rubbish
happened and it all went to the cesspit again. I will not go back home defeated. Not again.’

‘Is it worth the fight?’

‘Proving to myself that I am not a total failure? Of course it is bloody worth it!’

27

I was not fully aware of how illustrious the Ardglass clan was until I saw their splendid mansion in Dublin Street, one of the most sumptuous roads in New Town. The mansion’s gardens were adjacent to Queen Street Gardens, a long strip of grass and oaks amidst the grey stones of the Georgian neighbourhood. Moray Place and Dublin Street were actually on the opposite ends of those gardens and we could have easily walked there; however, it would have been terribly improper to arrive on foot. We had not crossed half the lawn when we joined the long line of carriages queuing into Duke Street; the rain had ceased only a while ago and the streets were still muddy and slippery, so the drivers had become cautious.

When we finally reached the entrance to the Ardglass mansion, we saw a small crowd of very smart ladies and gentlemen, all dressed up in the most elegant furs and hats. It was hard to believe that someone like McGray lived so close to such refined gentry, yet it made me understand why his name was loathed so much.

A familiar voice came from amidst the small group of people ascending the granite steps to the entrance: ‘Inspector Frey!’

As before, I could not see the short figure of Downs until he stepped right in front of me. He was carrying the violin case as agreed.

‘Good evening,’ I said, and then introduced him to my brother. ‘So this is the last violin you need to deliver to complete the will of the late Mr Fontaine.’

‘That is correct, Inspector. And I’ll be relieved once this is taken off me, I must confess. It is not that I am a superstitious one, but these instruments do seem to be … rather macabre.’

‘Macabre?’ Elgie asked before Downs had finished the word. ‘It sounds like a story that you
must
tell me, Brother.’

‘Not tonight, most certainly.’

We advanced to the entrance and found Alistair Ardglass saluting the incoming guests. He was kissing the hand of a very elegant lady, but almost pushed her aside when he saw us. His eyes immediately fell on the violin case, like peas rolling to the bottom of a bowl.

‘Why, Inspector Frey! How good of you to come! Is that for my niece?’

On close examination I found him rather pale and haggard, his temples shiny with perspiration and his whiskers rather messy. His grin was sickly servile and I could only nod with contempt. ‘Indeed, this is her violin. This is my bro–’

‘Oh, your good brother! We have already met; at the New Club.’

I arched my eyebrows. ‘I see now. So Mr Ardglass is the one who told you about the exorcisms with holy water …’

‘One of them,’ Elgie added.

‘Please, do come in. I shall join you in a second; as soon as I fetch my aunt. She will be delighted to finally meet you!’ He seemed so excited he could have pushed us all the way into the ballroom.

A stiff butler received our overcoats and then showed
us to a huge parlour. As we walked in I looked at the high ceilings and saw three enormous chandeliers ablaze with candles. The place was already packed from end to end, the dancing couples spinning tirelessly like a sea of waving silk and muslin. The crowd made the room so warm it was hard to believe that icy rain and sleet had lashed Edinburgh throughout the day.

As the dancers flashed before us I caught blurry glances of a grand orchestra playing at the opposite side of the ballroom.

‘Good musicians?’ I asked Elgie, for his ear was the only one I trusted.

‘They are excellent, to be honest. They even make
me
want to waltz … Oh, we should have a bite!’

Elgie was about to make his way towards the imposing mountains of food on display: crystallized chestnuts, vol-au-vents stuffed with salmon and scallops, Dutch asparagus, pickled guinea-fowl eggs, ice-cream on strawberries soaked in Porto wine …

Discreetly, I seized my brother’s arm. ‘Wait a bloody minute! You do not want everyone around to believe that you are a starving pauper!’

Elgie unwillingly composed himself. Fortunately he did not have much time to sulk, for Ardglass returned sooner than we expected.

I saw two women following him, one very old and the other in her mid twenties – clearly ‘Lady Glass’ and her granddaughter, Caroline Ardglass. Alistair introduced them accordingly and my eyes flickered from one to the other, not knowing on whom to concentrate.

Lady Anne Ardglass was in her seventies but she still
walked with a very straight spine, her shoulders pulled backwards, her chin high, giving her a powerful demeanour. She was thin and rather tall for a woman, and wore an impressive headdress of white plumes that made her appear even grander. Nevertheless, her face did reflect the passage of time, her cheeks gnarled like the bark of a tree. She had dark, veined bags under her eyes, no doubt from her drinking, which had probably begun when she was still young. As she walked towards us I noticed a slight sway, possibly from the drink she’d already had.

Caroline, on the contrary, had an arresting face: a soft jaw, pointed chin and nose, and a small mouth of scarlet, parted lips. Her eyes were very dark and glistened with a cunning, firm stare. I could tell that she was evaluating me, though I did not know – yet – to what end. Even though her manners seemed elegant and refined, there was a certain air of wildness in her general attitude.

‘We are pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mr Frey,’ Lady Anne said. Her voice was deep and well modulated, her accent quite concealing her Scottish origins. ‘You will surely have a pleasant evening.’

‘Thank you, Lady Anne. However, this is not entirely a social visit. First of all, we are to deliver an inheritance to Miss Ardglass.’

I looked at Downs, who immediately extended the violin case to the girl.

‘Miss Ardglass, the late Monsieur Fontaine stated explicitly that he wanted you to have this instrument: a violin by Guadagnini, dated 1754.’

She did not seem particularly impressed, and simply received the case and curtsied.

‘This violin has one of the sweetest tones I’ve ever heard,’ her uncle said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. ‘You are luckier than you think, Caroline.’

‘That is marvellous, Uncle,’ she replied, still showing no emotion. In fact she seemed rather bored.

Lady Anne had to intervene: ‘Say thank you to Inspector Frey, Caroline. He has gone to a lot of trouble to bring you this.’

Caroline looked at me, showing the wryest of smiles. ‘
Thank you
, Inspector Frey. I do realize that delivering a violin might have caused you hardships that few humans could bear.’

I felt my gut burning at her insolence. How some women take advantage of the fact that one cannot punch them! And my brother could not keep himself quiet …

‘Indeed,’ he said, before I could stop him, ‘but any hardship will be nothing when suffered for such a
fine
,
charming
lady.’

The rogue has certainly learned from his mother how to emphasize
just
the right words. He left the rest of us terribly uncomfortable, and I had to break the awkward silence.

‘Lady Anne, there is another reason for my visit; some questions I need to ask you, rather urgently.’

‘Oh, odious business matters! Why do gentlemen like to work themselves to death? You should first have some distraction. Pray, dance with my Caroline. She will be delighted.’

Caroline cast a stabbing look at her instead.

‘Charming as the prospect is, I must decline, Lady Anne. As I told you, this cannot wait any longer.’ I saw
Elgie looking earnestly at the canapés. ‘Besides, my brother will also be delighted to dance with your granddaughter.’

I could not tell who was the most infuriated; both Elgie and Caroline looked at me with more anger than many deranged murderers I have interrogated.

A vein had popped out in Lady Anne’s temple. ‘Very well, then. We can talk in my parlour.’

She cast her nephew a dismissive nod and I saw Elgie walking away with Miss Ardglass, apparently whispering malevolent things at her. I followed Lady Anne across the room, the crowd instantly parting for her as though we were in Windsor Castle and she was the Queen of England. I heard a plump woman murmuring to her daughter: ‘Remember to tell yer brother that the latest fashion in London is navy!’ My eyes simply rolled.

As soon as we were in the corridor, Lady Anne snapped her fingers and a butler appeared with a gas lamp. He led us to a small, rather cosy drawing room whose windows looked out on the main road.

Crammed with ledgers and piles of letters and documents, the place looked nothing like a lady’s parlour, but more like a businessman’s study. A piece of on-going embroidery and a set of flowery china were the only traces of a feminine presence. The walls must have been thick, for once the butler closed the door the echoes of the party were completely muffled. A few gas lamps lit the room, casting sharp shadows on the wrinkled face of Lady Anne, and the yellowish light bounced on the big pearls of her many necklaces, making them gleam like a myriad eyes. As I noticed that her lips were stained with
red wine, I felt as if I were sitting in front of one of Shakespeare’s weird sisters.

‘What is it that you wish to know, Mr Frey?’

‘Lady Anne, I regret to tell you that during our investigations into Mr Fontaine’s death your name has been mentioned … rather more frequently than one would expect.’

The woman looked at me with a raised brow, but there was hardly any other motion in her face. ‘Continue,’ she said.