Quest for a Killer Read online

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I had told Vince about the coincidence of Sheridan Place as we sat in Princes Street Gardens. That number 9 was now a boarding house, patronised by the circus performers, but Vince did not seem particularly impressed.

  Sadly, I guessed that for him it was all part of a past so alien to his present life in St James that he had lost all interest in what had been our home with Pappa and his debut as a family doctor.

  And quite suddenly, as I walked towards the Pleasance, I stopped in my tracks. There were urgent reasons for visiting Sheridan Place and seeing what the new owner was like. The circus connection might be important, especially as I suspected that one of the clowns might be the killer of the two girls and the bank clerk.

  I also remembered Jack’s information: it had been the scene of a recent break-in and had some connection with a fraud he was investigating, facts that I had not passed on to Vince.

  My new plan cast all thoughts of Mrs Hengel’s problems aside. As I walked the once familiar streets towards Newington, it seemed strange indeed to be in the area which held so many memories of long ago. I had not set foot in Sheridan Place since the day of my arrival in Edinburgh, when I found, instead of my welcome home with Vince and family in residence greeting me with open arms, only shuttered windows and a For Sale notice in the overgrown garden.

  At first glance nothing in the handsome Georgian villas had changed beyond the trees having grown higher in the past decade, and in many cases threatening to darken the outlook from the lower windows.

  Considering a suitable excuse for my visit, I had my story all prepared. As Mr Wood opened the door, I had assumed my disguise, my role this time a searcher for board and lodging for a visiting friend, a young lady. A necessary precaution to cover the unlikely possibility that I might be recognised as a former resident.

  Mr Wood was a well-spoken, very ordinary but respectable-looking gentleman in his fifties and did not, at first glance, suggest the fraudster Jack was interested in.

  He bowed me into the hall and while he consulted his register I looked around and discovered to my delight few visible changes since Vince had left, other than new carpets. From the stair landing, a sight so well remembered and dear to my heart, the old familiar stained-glass window of Scotland’s heroes that Pappa was so proud of. Wallace and Bruce, bold warriors flourishing warlike swords. How that sight had impressed my young days and I had felt an enormous pride in the personal possession of such heroes.

  A sound on the stairs and I stood aside to allow four gentlemen, presumably the present boarders, to rush downstairs. They bowed, murmured apologies. I stepped back to let them pass with no time for careful scrutiny. A rapid glance took in that one was young, little more than a schoolboy, the other three older, perhaps members of one family in Edinburgh on holiday.

  As the door closed on them Mr Wood looked up from his register and said, ‘I do have one single room at present. How long would the young lady require it?’

  I said I wasn’t quite sure, which was true enough, and he continued, ‘It is quite small for a lady. There may be a more congenial room on offer later…’

  Presumably a second glance had confirmed my respectability as he warned, ‘The facilities of the WC will have to be shared…’ And taking my silence for doubts about the propriety, he added hurriedly, ‘My present guests are most respectable fellows, excellent references, of course. You probably don’t recognise them, miss, they are clowns from the circus. All four of them very ordinary, nice chaps, but their ordinariness conceals amazing talents as conjurers, equestrians, jugglers and acrobats.’ He was obviously proud to have attracted such distinguished boarders.

  I told him I had seen them. ‘But there were five. Joey, their leader, is he not with them?’

  That was a disappointment, I thought, as Mr Wood shook his head and said, ‘I am not acquainted with the gentleman; no doubt he is residing elsewhere or staying with friends.’

  With a smile and warming to his theme he continued, ‘I cannot praise the circus people too highly. They are fine folk and get along very well with our residents, especially as they return to Edinburgh year after year, and many establish lasting friendships.’

  Which I thought is just the difference between the suburbs: in Newington, maybe, but unlikely among the residents of the Grange.

  However, if Joey was a wanted man privacy was a special need and he would have found a safe house among his own criminal fraternity. Promising Mr Wood that I would consult my friend and let him know, on my way home, I remembered again Mrs Hengel’s extraordinary request. I was not kept in suspense very long for she arrived the next morning.

  A tap on the kitchen door and there she was. ‘I took the short cut across the hill, such a lovely morning for a walk.’

  And as I invited her to take a seat, she said, ‘I am afraid this early meeting may have taken you by surprise.’

  ‘Not at all.’ And in my best businesslike manner, ‘Now, how can I help you?’

  She shook her head and said gently, ‘It is yourself, Mrs McQuinn, who is in need of my help.’ Again that intent stare. ‘I saw something in your hand – and I knew that I must tell you immediately: it is very close and, in your own interest, I knew there was no time to waste.’

  She paused breathlessly and regarded me sadly. ‘I can tell by your expression that you are an unbeliever but no matter, that often is the case.’ Another pause, a frown, and she added, ‘You have certain psychic abilities of which you are maybe unaware.’

  All very flattering but I was disappointed. If a private fortune-telling session was what she had in mind, when I was expecting and hoping for a new client and an absorbing investigation, then she was in for a disappointment.

  ‘You are a remarkable person, Mrs McQuinn. You have travelled extensively, and in doing so, suffered a great deal in your life beyond these shores across the oceans.’

  A good guess, I decided cynically. She was suddenly interrupted as Thane came over and positioned himself bolt upright at my side, instead of lying prone at my feet as usual. His eyes were fixed on Mrs Hengel with an unmoving stare, in an attitude of listening intently.

  Quite unaware of this attitude, which only I observed, Mrs Hengel smiled. ‘That is a remarkable dog, Mrs McQuinn.’

  Leaning over she patted his head. He allowed her to do so, but still sat unmoving, statue-like; the hound awaiting instructions.

  Mrs Hengel sighed. ‘I love animals – all of them, wild or tamed. Mr Hengel and I have no children of our own and animals are the solace that has taken their place. I love the horses in particular. When I was young and slim,’ she added, ‘I was the main equestrienne act.’ A little self-deprecating shrug. ‘Very hard to believe now that I had once such energy and daring. That was how I met my husband. I had a very bad fall and the injury left me unable to have a child.’

  She paused. ‘Do you have children, Mrs McQuinn?’

  ‘I had a baby son once, but he died of a fever. I hardly had time to know him.’

  I felt the tears ready to well up, as they did unfailingly, no matter how much time elapsed since that terrible day.

  ‘The good Lord gives and takes away,’ she said. ‘But when he takes away he often gives us something to replace what we have lost. In my case it was the discovery that I had psychic powers, a gift to help others.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘As you have undoubtedly already discovered that you have some power to help others.’

  I looked at her sharply. She did not know that I was a private detective unless someone had told her. There had been no mention of this fact and it had been merely my assumption that she was seeking my professional services. Now I thought of my logbook full of investigations where I had been instrumental in solving so many problems and curing the sickness brought about by fraud and betrayals in my clients’ lives.

  Again patting Thane she looked up and said, ‘How did you acquire such a lovely animal? One rarely sees deerhounds in towns these days. They belong in great e
states – and ancient tapestries.’

  So I told her briefly about our encounter on the hill, how I thought he was lost but seemed in such good condition that I suspected he had come from a former circus in Queen’s Park at that time.

  ‘They denied all knowledge of him. But it seemed that he had come from somewhere on Arthur’s Seat.’

  She nodded. ‘No doubt one of the deerhounds of King Arthur and his knights.’

  I was surprised by her knowledge of that improbable legend, as she went on, ‘Oh yes, I have heard strange tales about Arthur’s Seat, about ghosts and magic.’ Pausing, she sighed. ‘I do so love our visits here: there is something of the other world about this place, about the hill out there, don’t you think?’

  Without awaiting my reply, she looked towards the window. ‘And this tower, too, this beautiful place where you live looks as if it has been here for ever, grown out of the extinct volcano.’

  ‘How extraordinary. Do you know a strange thing? That was exactly what I felt the first time I saw it.’

  She smiled. ‘They say great minds think alike, and I think our minds – although perhaps not in that category, my dear – they function and derive their being from the same source common to mystics.’

  There was nothing I could say to that, except that her observation so near to my own was faintly unnerving, as was Thane’s continued alert behaviour.

  ‘The Tower needs a lot of work,’ I said apologetically, dragging the conversation back to normal, domestically conscious of untidy corners, the needed urgent application of a duster and mop.

  She shook her head gravely. ‘That is only the surface. Don’t let it trouble you. Underneath nothing changes, the spirit of the house is unperturbed; as long as it knows it has our love it will protect us.’

  Thane was still watching us eagerly, gazing from one to the other as if closely following our conversation.

  ‘And so you never discovered where he came from. A remarkable story for a remarkable dog. But hardly surprising in a place full of magic like Arthur’s Seat, which has always had secrets and will never give them up. I doubt if you will ever find out more about Thane than he is prepared to let you know.’

  As she talked, she smiled at Thane, clearly fascinated by him, while he continued to regard her in that curious way of his, mouth slightly open as if smiling. It was odd, watching these two, as if they understood each other perfectly.

  ‘He is your protection, Mrs McQuinn, part of the mystery of where your destiny has led you.’

  As she spoke she took my hand, turned it over and, studying it frowning, she sighed. ‘When we met I knew there was something that I had to tell you – to warn you of danger ahead. I guessed that you were a widow, and alas, I can see no tall, dark, handsome stranger coming into your life to carry you off.’

  I already knew that, certain now that my handsome Danny was dead, as she continued, ‘There is just a shadow, a dream of which you must beware; evil forces you are unaware of, lies disguised as truth, hate disguised as love. You are being manipulated, pulled in the wrong direction. That is all I know, it isn’t much, but the main thing is that you must move with extreme caution.’

  She sighed again. ‘I just wish I could see it all clearly to advise you in chapter and verse. All I am acutely aware of is the danger that surrounds you. Danger, false hopes and uncertainties.’

  And leaning over, she made a fist of my hand, eyes closed as if praying; she held it lightly for a moment. Then smiling she rose to her feet, suddenly practical.

  ‘Now I must leave you for there is much to prepare down the road.’

  As if aware that she had given me plenty to think about, she smiled. ‘You are wondering if what I have told you will happen, or if it is just a wild guess.’ She shook her head. ‘In your case, I felt certain I was seeing into the future. It isn’t always so. Many times young girls come hoping I will see a handsome husband and a thousand a year.’ She paused. ‘Seems an incredible fortune to them. And they want to know how many children and what the future holds. The older ladies are more practical, mostly concerned with family matters, who will wed among their children and so forth, and finances, if riches are coming their way and if they will have a long life. I aim to be honest. Usually there isn’t anything of importance I can see and I have to be vague with those promises, so as not to disappoint them and make them feel they have wasted their money.’

  She took my face between her hands, looked deeply into my eyes. ‘But when we met something else took over, a sense of compulsion. You must take great care, Mrs McQuinn. That’s my final word. Now Ed will be wondering what has happened to me and Seraphina. Takes a little longer to prepare for the afternoon sessions these days…’ she laughed lightly, ‘the wig and the greasepaint.’

  Smiling, she added, ‘I hope we shall meet again. If you need me, you know where I am to be found. And I shall not require a consultation fee: knowing I have warned you is all the repayment I need, more than enough. And the opportunity to see this lovely house.’

  The wistful hint was irresistible. ‘Let me show you the rest of it on your way out. It will only take minutes.’

  As we walked through the great hall towards the stone spiral staircase, she clasped her hands in delight. ‘What a superb room, those wonderful tapestries – I am so glad to see that ugly progress has not overtaken and destroyed all vestiges of those original stone walls. A quite magnificent fireplace too.’

  Very conscious of the massive oak table and the worn tapestry on chairs, as well as an abundance of dust motes caught by the sunshine streaming in through the narrow windows, I said, ‘So visitors react, but alas, it is too large to heat comfortably.’

  Laughing, she narrowed her eyes, and ignoring the presence of the table’s solitary occupant, the typewriting machine under its cover, she said, ‘I believe you, but I can see days long ago, when this hall was filled with a laird’s family and retainers, great fires, great tables of food.’ She sniffed the air. ‘Ah yes, venison roasting on that fire.’

  It was my turn to laugh at such an agreeable flight of fancy as I led the way up the spiral stair and opened the door of the main bedroom.

  She hesitated. ‘Cats! Extraordinary, but that postered bed was once occupied by a multitude of cats.’ Turning, she looked at me. ‘Now, how did I get such a silly idea?’

  ‘Not silly in the least. The owner before my stepbrother was a very eccentric old gentleman who gave refuge to homeless cats – and their numerous offspring as they proceeded to multiply exceedingly.’

  She smiled. ‘Then I would have liked him very much indeed.’

  ‘I thought the odours they had left would have been gone as he died a long time ago. I remember them being very strong indeed, in my childhood days.’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t smell them – I just sense them,’ and as I closed the door, ‘such a handsome room, but you don’t occupy it.’

  ‘No. I never wanted to sleep there. Here is my room. It’s much smaller, sunnier and warmer.’

  ‘And it has a magnificent view of the hill,’ she said.

  She made polite comments on the other two very ordinary bedrooms but hesitated on the landing.

  ‘There is another room.’ Conscious of the hidden secret room, I pretended her remark was a question rather than a statement. I shook my head and led the way back downstairs.

  At the front door we exchanged mutual thanks. I said, ‘You have given me a lot to think about and I shall endeavour to heed your warning.’

  Her wry smile recognised my disbelief. She took my hand. ‘We shall meet again. And my name is Sara, please call me that.’

  Suddenly, at that moment I felt that I could trust her, that we were friends. ‘And mine is Rose.’

  Leaning forward, she brushed my cheek with her lips. ‘So be it, Rose.’ And to Thane who had followed our tour of the house, an admonishing finger. ‘You guard her well!’

  Watching her walk away down the road, I realised there had never been an oppor
tunity to bring up the subject of Joey. At my side Thane gave a small whimper, as if he would have liked to follow her.

  I said, ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’ and repeated what I said so often. ‘Oh Thane, if only you could talk, tell me what it’s all about.’

  As I stroked his head, he turned to me with that almost human look of understanding and sympathy; the telepathic veil we shared must for ever remain unbroken.

  We were about to go indoors when we were hailed by a familiar voice walking in our direction from the hill. It was Elma with Rufus.

  She greeted me warmly, clutching Rufus with his usual shrill reception at Thane, who took his departure with an almost human weary sigh, as Elma followed me into the kitchen. My first question was, ‘How is Felix?’

  She sighed. ‘Just the same. No change. He still hasn’t regained consciousness and they are still refusing to let me have just a few minutes alone with my poor darling.’

  I braced myself for her usual complaints and angry vituperation against doctors and police but laying her bonnet aside she said, ‘I hope this isn’t an inconvenient call. I see you already had a visitor this morning. I saw her leaving – just missed each other. Another minute and we would have met.’

  She was obviously curious so I said, ‘She’s a lady from the circus.’

  Her eyebrows rose at that. ‘I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted with such people.’ She managed to make it sound disapproving, as if it was not quite good form.

  ‘They are acquaintances of my stepbrother.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Surely not patients?’

  ‘No. From a Balmoral visit. We met them by accident at lunch yesterday.’

  The mention of Balmoral had reinstated Dr Laurie for her and I said, ‘I would never have recognised her as Seraphina.’

  ‘The fortune-teller, you mean? How strange. Was she telling your fortune?’

  ‘Not really.’ I could hardly go into the details of Mrs Hengel’s visit, nor did I want to.