Deadly Legacy Read online

  Andy was saying to Jack, ‘I’ll be back for you tomorrow. There’s a sheep sale in Fife I’m mighty interested in – buying a new ram for my ewes. May as well take the chance of a gossip with some of the local farmers.’

  A final résumé of arrangements and it was agreed that there was no point in Jack returning to Solomon’s Tower to wait for him there.

  Andy took out his watch. ‘There’ll be a train on the hour. I’ll check in at the local hotel overnight with my farming mates.’

  Both men looked at me for approval and Jack said, ‘You don’t mind me going, Rose?’

  ‘Of course not.’ And to Andy, ‘It makes sense – far easier to meet here with Waverley Station just down the road.’

  ‘Aye, there’s a local train passes through Eildon every hour. Maybe I’ll leave that visit to your wee lass until next time, eh?’

  Jack nodded vaguely while Andy, giving me another bear hug, said, ‘I’ll be on my way, then. Leave you two lovebirds together.’ He was away, firm footsteps echoing down the corridor.

  Jack took my hand. ‘I feel badly about leaving you, Rose. And I did want to see Meg in her new home. But …’

  He stopped, shrugged. I was able to fill in what he was leaving unsaid. He didn’t want to meet her alone, he wanted my support. And it would be much better for both of them if he waited until he was fully fit. If he went now, a possibly stressful emotional meeting would not be good for him and could cast a shadow on his future relationship with his young impressionable daughter.

  ‘That’s settled then. Pack a suitcase for me – you’re good at that!’ He grinned.

  ‘I’ll need time to do some laundry, Jack. Shirts to wash and iron and clothes to press,’ I reminded him.

  ‘In that case Wright can collect them.’

  A bell had sounded. A nurse looked in and said, ‘Time the patient had his rest. He’s had an extended visiting time today,’ she added reproachfully.

  We kissed and Jack held my hand, looking anxious. ‘Sure you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ I lied, feeling guilty again.

  I should go with him, I knew. But I also knew that it was impossible. Everything in my life as a private investigator sternly demanded that I should remain in Edinburgh at this crucial time. There were too many things that Jack knew nothing about, too many unanswered questions that could not await delay and matters that had developed since his accident and that I must be on hand to deal with alone. I was glad now that he didn’t know of my attack on that train journey, or of any of the stresses regarding the tracking down of Meg, and above all there was the investigation of the murder of one of my clients that was also of vital importance to me personally.

  As I was leaving he said, ‘Take the Jacobite file with you, I don’t imagine I’ll need it.’

  ‘I had a visit from Mr Hayward – he brought back the map and had some very interesting observations.’

  Jack smiled and stifled a yawn. He looked exhausted, his eyelids heavy. This wasn’t the time to go into explanations about the possibility that the two maps were connected by a missing portion.

  Besides, I hadn’t finished with Duddingston. I wanted to have another talk with Jane Hinton.

  Unexpected visitors weren’t over for the day. I had hardly entered the kitchen when there was a knock at the door and Beth appeared, looking tearful and upset, no longer cheerful and radiant, a return to the Beth of our first meeting.

  She came in and took a seat at the kitchen table, her shoulders dropped wearily. ‘Oh Rose, I had to come and see you. You are my friend and I am sorry to be here without warning – perhaps it is inconvenient,’ she added with a glance around, remembering her manners as a well-brought-up young person.

  I shook my head. ‘You’re always welcome,’ and taking her hand, ‘tell me about it.’

  She sat up straight, shivered and whispered, ‘It’s Adrian. He doesn’t think we should get married after all. It’s all Frederick’s fault. He had called when I was out with some gifts, flowers and chocolates. Adrian was absolutely furious …’

  That, at least, was understandable, a poor young man rivalled by a wealthy suitor.

  ‘He doesn’t care that I’m not interested in Frederick, that he is only a kind old friend – told me that I’d be better off marrying him, if he would still have me, if he still wanted me.’ Tears began to flow, a handkerchief dabbed. ‘He said he was leaving anyway very shortly for that audition in London, the one he’s been hoping for after the Portobello Players perform their Prince Charlie pageant at the Pleasance Theatre. The same old story, Rose,’ she added with a sob. ‘He can’t hope to keep a wife and child in London, not until he gets big roles, makes a name for himself—’

  I was less concerned with Adrian’s ambitions than the fate of the baby. ‘What about Lillie?’ I interrupted.

  ‘I knew I had to tell him the truth about what happened. But he doesn’t care,’ she wailed. ‘Said it was a relief that Lillie wasn’t his after all. He didn’t need to feel he had any obligations to either of us. Then he laughed – laughed, Rose! – reminded me I should realise that in my class of society our affair would be regarded as a fellow sowing his wild oats. So cruel – I thought he loved me. How could he say such things!’

  More tears, then, ‘Oh Rose, I don’t know what to do. He seemed so fond of Lillie, I cannot believe he doesn’t care for her either.’

  I didn’t know what to say; I couldn’t find the right words regarding Adrian’s conduct that would not be a lie.

  I put an arm around her shoulders. She dried her eyes and sighed. ‘I’m so sorry to inflict all this on you, but you are such a comfort. Besides, it’s no use talking to Nanny, she agrees with Adrian.’ And taking a deep breath, ‘She thinks I should let him go and marry Frederick.’

  This was no surprise, as Nanny had said as much to me.

  ‘Frederick knows all about Lillie. He has told Nanny – not me, of course – that we should get married.’

  I could see further complications looming on that horizon. ‘I gather he’s well known, and then there is your family and their circle of friends. Surely you appearing as his wife with a tiny baby would be hard to explain away – a local scandal.’

  She shook her head. ‘Oh, he’s worked that one out. We would get married secretly at Gretna Green and go immediately to his estate in Argyll. No one would ever know that Lillie wasn’t ours.’

  As plots go this one seemed fraught with loopholes, but at least offered a more positive solution than the uncertainties of any future with Adrian. In fact, all things considered, once she could dry her eyes over losing him, it was a fortuitous ending indeed, one that most girls in her unfortunate circumstances would have leapt at.

  I had one final question. ‘Do you love Adrian?’

  She frowned. ‘I think so. And I truly believed in him, that he loved me. But since I came back, I am not so sure that he would make a good husband.’ She paused, adding anxiously, ‘What shall I do, Rose? What do you think?’

  I took her hand. ‘My dear, this is a decision that only you can make, especially as I have never met either of the men concerned.’

  She frowned. ‘But you are so wise, Rose. What do you think I should do?’

  I shook my head. As for my thoughts, I was hardly the right person to advise anyone regarding marriage, considering my own lengthy indecisions regarding Jack Macmerry. And Beth was certainly taking me on trust, for she knew nothing about my life.

  I took it that she was too involved in her own problems to show any curiosity about how I managed to live in Solomon’s Tower or if there was a Mr McQuinn, and would have probably been surprised to learn that I was one of this new breed of women who had a career, a private detective at that.

  She sighed and smiled wistfully. ‘I would have enjoyed London, though, such an exciting prospect.’

  I had no wish to disillusion her about the life she imagined she’d have lived in London – a life her parents had provided until recently – wit
h wealth and a position in society, calling cards and dressmakers and balls, when, in reality, she would have been facing the very different prospect of scrimping and scraping to make ends meet as an actor’s wife.

  Our conversation ended as Thane came into the kitchen. She gave a great shriek and bounded to her feet.

  I put a hand on her arm. ‘This is Thane – my dog. He won’t hurt you.’

  Thane came over and she took a step backward, shuddered and said, ‘But he is so … so huge!’

  As she spoke Thane looked from one to the other, quite bewildered by this reception. He sat down at my side a little hurt and offended as Beth continued to regard him, wide-eyed, keeping her distance.

  ‘He is gentle and friendly, Beth, I assure you. And he is my protector, aren’t you, Thane?’

  He looked at me gratefully, with that almost human smile.

  Beth sighed, putting out a rather nervous hand. ‘May I?’

  Thane looked at her still with that gentle expression and she stroked his head. Then she laughed. ‘We have lots of dogs – a beagle pack for the hunt, and my father has two Labradors and a spaniel, but they live outside in the kennels.’

  Stroking Thane’s head, she sighed wistfully. ‘I have never been allowed a dog of my own. And I’m allergic to cats, they make me sneeze.’ She smiled and looked up at me. ‘But he is rather lovely, Rose. So unusual. What kind is he?’

  So I had to give a recital of the deerhound pedigree and the connection with the legend of Arthur’s Seat.

  ‘So romantic, Rose. What a lovely idea. Perhaps I could take him out for a walk on the hill sometime.’

  I laughed and said ‘Of course’, though it would be more likely that Thane would be the one taking her for a walk. At least his entrance, so well-timed, had cheered her up for the moment and she left quite happily promising to come back very soon.

  I watched her walk down the road with feelings of great compassion. So vulnerable and with such an uncertain future to deal with for one so young.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Closing the door, I got down to the domestic chore of Jack’s laundry which I would have been tempted to take to the local ‘steamie’, as it was called, for the larger items of bed linen and towels. However, time did not permit. This was still a good drying day with a fine strong breeze, blowing down from Arthur’s Seat. I was just pegging out the last shirt on the line, when Thane raced over to the gate.

  I looked up to see a policeman approaching the garden greeted by Thane, who ran back to my side, disappointed, no doubt, that the uniform had not heralded another visit from Sergeant Wright.

  ‘Excuse me, madam.’ This constable was a newcomer, a stranger older than the sergeant, his features under the uniform helmet almost invisible apart from bright-blue eyes and a heavy grey moustache.

  ‘Mrs McQuinn?’ I said ‘Yes’ and he saluted me gravely. ‘I have been sent by the hospital. Your presence is required there immediately.’

  This piece of information was surprising.

  ‘What is it they want me for?’

  The policeman was turning on his heel to leave. ‘I have no idea, madam. I was just told to deliver the message.’ Touching his helmet he was away.

  I wanted to shout after him. I wanted to know more. In despair I regarded the washing blowing briskly in the wind. And then sudden panic as I reconsidered that brief message.

  Did it mean that Jack had had a relapse? Oh dear God—

  I rushed inside, collected my cape, took the bicycle and headed down the road. I had never ridden so fast, my imagination out of control and running riot.

  At the hospital I hurried along the corridor to Jack’s ward.

  His bed was empty, stripped of its sheets.

  I put my hand to my mouth. A sick feeling of terror and dismay.

  ‘Mrs McQuinn?’ I turned. The nurse, who I recognised, had approached.

  ‘Mr Macmerry – where is he?’ I felt I was yelling at her and she gave me a very odd look as I regained control and asked, ‘Tell me, please – what has happened? Is he … is he …?’ And looking at the empty bed again, my eyes filled with tears.

  The nurse took my arm very gently and led me into the corridor.

  I started gabbling again and she said, ‘Mrs McQuinn, please be calm, there is no need to upset yourself—’

  ‘Upset myself—’ I gulped and before I could say more, she shook her head.

  ‘Mr Macmerry is taking a bath at this moment, preparing to leave us in the morning. He won’t be sorry—’

  ‘Taking a bath?’ I whispered and sat down on the bench.

  ‘Yes, indeed, we do try to provide such facilities when requested.’

  I jumped up, regaining my composure. ‘Oh thank you, thank you.’

  Her eyes widened. She seemed to find such gratitude overwhelming. ‘Would you like to sit down and wait for him? He should not be too long. Perhaps a cup of tea?’

  The relief that had flooded over me receded. ‘A moment if you please, Nurse. Forgive me for being in such a state, but a police constable came – oh, half an hour ago – with an urgent message from the hospital that I was to come immediately and I presumed … well, the worst.’

  She stood very straight, looked at me, shook her head. ‘You must be mistaken, there was no such message sent from us or from Mr Macmerry.’ She paused. ‘This policeman – was it Sergeant Wright?’

  ‘No. I had never seen this one before.’

  She continued to look at me, then said gravely, ‘Then I can only conclude that someone was playing a practical joke – in very bad taste, if I may say so.’ She paused a moment. ‘Now, a cup of tea.’

  I stood up. ‘Please, don’t bother. I won’t wait after all. I shall see him and his father tomorrow. And one other thing, Nurse, if you please: no mention of my visit and the urgent message to Mr Macmerry. I’m sure you are right, it was a practical joke, but it might alarm him and I would not want that.’

  She smiled and put a finger to her lips. ‘Not a word, Mrs McQuinn. Not a word.’

  Perplexed and angry, a little scared too, I rode swiftly back home. The washing, witness to the mystery, was blowing in the wind and drying nicely. I parked the bicycle and, opening the kitchen door – never locked, to give Thane, who had swiftly learnt how to lift the latch with his nose, easy access to the Tower when we were absent – went inside.

  There was no sign of Thane. But listening, I heard faint but frantic barking from somewhere above my head.

  I ran up the spiral stair. The barking grew nearer, from the master bedroom. I opened the door and Thane rushed out to greet me. He was excited, agitated. Trying to tell me something.

  And I realised that although he could manage latches, he could not have turned the doorknob on a room we seldom used and always kept closed. Someone had shut him in there.

  Patting his head, I leant against the banister. He must have heard my heart racing, for, whining gently, he came to my side, watching me anxiously.

  And I knew the answer. Someone had been in the house while I was at the hospital. Thane had followed the intruder upstairs. There was only one answer to that too: the identity of the burglar must also be the messenger who lured me out of the Tower with a false message.

  ‘Righto, Thane. We’ll see what’s missing.’

  Beginning with the bedrooms, Thane at my side, I searched each one, although there was nothing portable to steal in any of them.

  Leaving my bedroom to last, it looked untouched. There had been no random opening of drawers and emptying of contents. Not that I had much to steal – the contents of Mrs Lawers’ legacy minus the documents given to Mr Hayward were in the secret room.

  I wasn’t surprised that my jewel box had been opened, the lock broken. But nothing was missing; my few pieces, of sentimental value only, had been of no interest.

  Downstairs, the Great Hall. Again, nothing portable, other than Jack’s rather unwieldy typewriter. So what had the burglar been searching for?

  Int
o the kitchen. Again nothing. I opened the sideboard drawers – linen, cutlery, my derringer, some letters and bills, the note Mrs Lawers had written regarding the documents and the jewellery.

  Here was a puzzle indeed. If he wasn’t the usual kind of burglar looking for jewellery or money, what had been his motive?

  And suddenly I had it – the answer.

  His target had been Mrs Lawers’ documents and I sat back, breathed a sigh of relief, glad of the instinct that had made me decide to entrust the map and the letters to Mr Hayward.

  But with relief came another scaring thought: I had been tricked out of the house by a bogus policeman and this was no opportunist burglary, spur of the moment, but part of a very carefully thought-out plan.

  I sat down at the table. Someone knew a lot more about Mrs Lawers’ affairs than I had had the opportunity to discover in our brief ill-fated acquaintance. I had unwittingly become custodian of that deadly legacy, and without knowing why or what for, I was in mortal danger at the hands of that same person who had murdered her and her maid.

  Close to my side, Thane sat looking guilty and unhappy. He wanted me to understand, his eyes pleading. I hugged him and realised that although Thane was quite unique, he lacked only two desirable human attributes. If only he could talk – and make a cup of tea.

  ‘It isn’t your fault,’ I said, his gentle whine an apology.

  Who was this bogus policeman who had sent me on a wild goose chase to the hospital so that he could return and search the Tower? Thane would never have allowed a stranger to come through the kitchen door – the only access when we were absent – let alone climb the spiral stair to the bedrooms … unless … unless it was someone, or something, familiar. The police uniform – a familiar sight to Thane, particularly with Sergeant Wright visiting over the last few days.