Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery) Read online

  I was taken aback by his request but the thought of sad, motherless Tessa succeeded where nothing else would have done.

  'Of course, sir. I am not at all sure of my abilities, but if you think I can be of any help to Tessa at this present sad time, I am more than willing...'

  He looked at me, nodded. 'Excellent. I am most grateful for your offer. But you have not mentioned a fee for these services. May I ask...'

  I must have looked appalled. 'It would be a pleasure for me to help Tessa. I certainly don't need paying for that,' I said indignantly.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Nanny Brook was right in her praise of you.'

  So Nancy had been responsible for this interview and the proposed lessons for Tessa. And that was why she had behaved so mysteriously when we met in the stable yard.

  'But there is no way I could accept your services without due payment,' the General continued. 'Come, Mrs McQuinn, Nanny Brook tells me that you are a businesswoman. You must know surely that to succeed, there are strict rules about such matters.'

  And the salary he offered for six hours' tuition per week deprived me of speech.

  I had to ask him to repeat it twice in case I had misheard, for it would have kept many talented young artists in Edinburgh from starving to death this winter in their cold draughty garrets.

  And I knew I could ill afford to turn down such an offer. I had no investigations on hand except the search for Desmond Marks' missing wife, which had reached an impasse and I feared would never repay my few enquiries.

  So I agreed. Looking very pleased, the General showed me to the door himself with a few polite enquiries about Vince and any possibilities of a visit from Balmoral, and adding how he had enjoyed meeting me at Princess Beatrice's lunch. Tactfully there was no mention of our next disastrous encounter at the protestors' march in Leith.

  'Next time your brother comes to Edinburgh, we must arrange to have you both to dinner.' I presumed 'we' included Lady Carthew.

  I made my way back through the stable yard in such a daze of disbelief that I was already half-way home, the Tower in sight, when I turned and looked back the way I had come.

  There was something I should have remembered.

  Something important that had slipped to the back of my mind when I was talking to Nancy.

  I shrugged. It would keep for the moment. And overjoyed at this totally unexpected little windfall I concentrated on the mundane matter of buying new painting materials and preparing suitable lessons.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack came by that evening and was surprised - and, I felt, pleased - that I had found a temporary situation unconnected with solving crime. He was particularly impressed by the fee I was being offered for six hours of painting lessons each week.

  I could just see his thoughts rushing ahead...

  Maybe this taste for teaching and dealing with small children would rekindle my early abilities and persuade me to apply for a post in one of the newly opened Newington schools.

  While we were talking Nancy arrived on her way to the Pirates rehearsal.

  She was very proud and excited since she had known from the beginning that the General intended asking me to give Tessa lessons. As I suspected, she had planted the idea firmly in his mind by assuring him that I had once been 'an excellent teacher of general subjects'.

  She particularly wanted me to share her good opinion of the General and when I mentioned how generous he had been, she clapped her hands delightedly.

  'I could have guessed, Rose. Such a lovely man. And a lovely house too. Is that the time? I must fly.' And she left for her rehearsal looking longingly in Jack's direction, but tonight he made no offer to escort her.

  Thane arrived next day as I was leaving for Carthew House, and followed me across the hill. When he apparently realized my destination, he looked disappointed although he had accompanied Nancy and me on other occasions, leaving us when the lane came into view.

  Now as he lay down staring after me with a somewhat woebegone whimper, I had a strange feeling that he did not like that part of the hill, or the lane either. Come to think of it, I had never seen him leave Arthur's Seat. Perhaps there was a reason for that, too subtle for a mere human to comprehend.

  As I opened the gate to the stable yard, I looked back and he was still regarding me intently, unmoving. His attitude was like Nancy's, when she was anxiously watching to see that the children crossed the road in safety.

  Before me, the yard was deserted, the horses in their stalls today. When I walked round to the front door, I found Nancy waiting and she led the way into the library where a desk had been prepared in readiness for Tessa's painting lesson.

  What a kindly action, I thought, since most parents or relatives would have regarded the fine library as out of bounds for small children. I had imagined we would have been banished to the upstairs nursery with our paints to sit behind barred windows, provided so that small children were not tempted to hurl themselves down into the garden below.

  I had brought my own colours and paper but that would not be needed. There was a splendid array of materials, paintboxes, brushes, paints, some of which had doubtless belonged to Tessa's mother.

  A sound of excited footsteps on the stairs, and the door flew open to admit Tessa and Torquil. Tessa hugged me delightedly and rushed across to the desk as Nancy said, 'Shall I take Torquil-'

  'No, Nanny,' he shrieked. 'I want to stay.'

  Nancy shrugged, gave me an apologetic and hopeful look. 'If you don't mind, Rose...'

  I shook my head obligingly.

  'Very well, then. There are things I have to do.' Obviously relieved, she turned to Torquil. 'Be good now and do as you are told.'

  I wasn't sure how to begin with the little girl sitting opposite, her brush already poised over the paper, so I decided perspective would be a good thing. See if my pupil could draw straight lines.

  Embarking on a beginner's lesson of drawing simple objects, a box, a book, I showed her how to mix the paint and colour in her pictures. She learned fast.

  'Done those. What next, Mrs McQuinn?' she asked eagerly.

  There were plenty of copyable objects all around us and I saw at once, with a feeling of intense relief, that the General's faith in his small niece had been justified. Even at six years old, she had a natural talent for drawing and choosing the correct colours.

  The only fly in the ointment, as the saying went, and a very small but very insistent fly, was Torquil. He stood by my side, snatching brushes, darting at colours that Tessa was using and thereby arousing her wrath.

  There was but one solution: allow him to take part. His sister did not make any fuss but gave a despairing grownup glance for it was obvious, even though he was two years younger, that Torquil had inherited little artistic skill.

  But he was certainly adept at sloshing paint on paper, an activity which kept him quiet and afforded him considerable enjoyment.

  'Look at me, Mrs McQuinn. Look at what I have painted.'

  Questioned politely, he told me it was a firework.

  I was quite content to let my two charges paint to their heart's content, to get the feeling of colour and shape for this first lesson, reflecting on my own good fortune to enjoy such delightful surroundings.

  The handsome panelled room with bookshelves reaching to the high ceiling, the great carved fireplace with its log fire, on the floor Kelim rugs and handsome leather armchairs... The feeling of comfortable affluence abounded and beyond the window, the General and Lady Carthew walked arm-in-arm warmly clad for their afternoon stroll: a pleasant activity for a mild winter day in their lovely garden. Vivid orange and red trees, shedding leaves like golden coins across their path, touched by deepening purple shadows, gave the landscape a texture and richness lacking in bright sunlight.

  They saw me and waved as they came towards the front door.

  I was looking forward to my first meeting with Lady Carthew and as the General led her into the library, she smiled thro
ugh her veiled outdoor hat and took my hand.

  'I am so glad to meet you, Mrs McQuinn. I have heard much about you.' A warm handshake, firmer than I had expected and that pleased me since I had imagined an invalid's limp cold-fingered hand.

  She looked at Tessa's painting, her arm around the little girl's shoulder. 'That is very good, my dear. You are clever!'

  Turning to me with a smiling glance in her husband's direction, she said, 'I wonder if I might persuade you to do me a painting of Sir Angus?'

  'I fear that I have no skill at painting portraits.'

  Her eyes widened as she looked at Sir Angus. 'I was given to understand that you drew people as well.'

  'Mere sketches, I fear. I have never had the boldness to translate them into paint. A very different matter.'

  She smiled. 'I am sure you are too modest and anyone who can paint such lovely sunsets must have other artistic abilities.'

  And to her husband: 'We have such talented people around us. Our niece and nephew here,’ she added, kissing Torquil's mop of curls, 'and a nanny who sings. We are so looking forward to Pirates.’

  'Indeed yes, my dear,' said Sir Angus. 'It is one of our favourites in the whole repertoire.'

  I remembered that Nancy had told me of their enthusiasm for Gilbert and Sullivan and their support for the local Opera Society.

  Now, listening to Lady Carthew's pleasant resonant voice, I would not have been in the least surprised to learn that she had been, or had secret aspirations to be, a singer.

  I was very impressed. She was tall and slim but without an invalid's frailty which I had expected from her confinement to the house. And I felt a rush of compassion for whatever ailed her and kept this attractive woman from leading the normal active life that her station in life demanded.

  Not physical infirmity, from surface appearance anyway, but perhaps some deep-seated woman's trouble. That led me on to observe her obvious affection for Torquil and Tessa, her devotion to her handsome husband, and without any knowledge of her medical history, I guessed that she was in continual distress at being unable to produce a child to their marriage, a son to carry on the Carthew dynasty.

  Many wives had been abandoned for this sad omission by more ambitious husbands, I thought with new regard for her husband's obvious tenderness and devotion.

  Turning to leave, she said, 'It has been a great pleasure, Mrs McQuinn. Thank you for giving these little ones so much of your precious time.'

  Did she not know how much I was being paid for these services, I wondered, as she continued, 'No doubt we will meet often - I shall look in to see how Tessa progresses.'

  I hoped too that I would see her on my visits and that her remark was not merely a polite rejoinder. At that moment I imagined we might become firm friends for there was something very appealing and sincere about Harriet Carthew.

  Anyone who met them, or was five minutes in their company, must be immediately aware of the bond between this older man and his young second wife. Doubtless there had never been and never would be a breath of scandal to rock this household.

  I felt confident that the General would not stray like the obnoxious Desmond Marks. Here was a man, I thought, who having given his love would remain true for ever. For better or for worse, till death did them part and they were laid to rest together for all eternity in the vault waiting in the garden.

  And as I left, longing to stay in their company, I felt bitterly lonely. Envious too, wistful that the love of my life, Danny McQuinn, and I never had the chance to grow old together.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Back in the Tower, the more I considered my stroke of fortune in becoming acquainted with the Carthews, the more it seemed that fate had opened this door when all other doors were apparently closing. I should have been in growing despair each day with no offers of new cases for several weeks now.

  And as if to confirm my fears Desmond Marks arrived late that evening. He seemed a little reluctant to accept my invitation to cross the threshold, staring around suspiciously for signs of Thane in the vicinity.

  Persuaded to take a seat, looking uncomfortable and remaining watchful, he said, 'I have to tell you, I am here to put at an end your investigation into my wife's disappearance.'

  I was immediately on the alert. Was she dead already and was this some move to prove his innocence? He continued, 'You will be glad to know - and I am happy to report - that I have just received a letter from her, posted in Glasgow. When her sister was unable to - er, offer her hospitality-'

  I thought the word ill chosen and would have called it rather 'refuge'.

  '-Nora decided to visit an old friend she had worked with long ago. Someone I thought had dropped out of her life when we married. They had met in Edinburgh one day, quite by chance, and Nora did not inform me.'

  He sighed. 'You know what women are like, Mrs McQuinn. She remembered this old friend and hoped to punish me for, well, my indiscretions, shall we call them? However, her friend, an intelligent person by all accounts, persuaded her that I had probably suffered enough. Nice of her, wasn't it? And to cut a long story short, my wife has decided to stay in Glasgow and impose on her friend's charity for a little while longer. She has promised to think about our future and I have no doubts that she will eventually decide to mend her ways, return home and resume our life together.'

  In his place I wouldn't have been quite so confident about that. Nora Marks having once tasted freedom might not care to resume their cat-and-dog existence, as Nancy had called it.

  'I am glad your mind is at rest, Mr Marks,' I said and put out my hand. 'May I see the letter, please?'

  He looked surprised at my request and shook his head. 'I haven't got it with me. Is a gentleman's word not good enough for you?'

  In his case it wasn't, but I murmured, 'When closing a case it is usual to see some evidence of the missing person's return.'

  Ignoring this statement, he thanked me and, in a hurry to leave, thrust an envelope into my hand. 'Here is your fee, Mrs McQuinn. Two pounds for your trouble. I trust that is adequate.'

  I would have liked to refuse since my only expense had been a bicycle ride to Leith. But I decided to accept, two pounds would be very useful and pride has no place in an investigator's life.

  Showing him out, I said, 'You will, of course, be informing the police so that they can take Mrs Marks' name off their lists.'

  He gave me a mocking smile. 'I have already done so.'

  'Then they will want to see the letter.'

  'Indeed yes. As a matter of fact I left it with them,' he said triumphantly.

  I watched him go very doubtfully. I must talk to Jack, see if Marks was telling the truth and the evidence of his estranged wife's well-being was now in police records.

  The letter was vital. I imagined it being checked against other examples of the missing woman's handwriting. For Desmond Marks was clever enough to think he could outsmart the police and any woman investigator by telling a pack of lies.

  And that could be for several reasons. First, he was in the insurance business and it suddenly occurred to me that he might also have a very profitable policy on his wife. As far as I was concerned, that was also an important consideration occurring to anyone with a suspicious mind.

  Then there was his association with Peter McHully who might well have been involved as her paid killer and was now conveniently dead.

  And for Desmond, feeling safe with his wife's body buried in some unknown secure place, it followed that in the passage of time she would not return from Glasgow, would vanish once again without trace and be presumed dead. The regular legal procedures would be made official, the insurance policy honoured.

  Meanwhile the letter she had supposedly written was undoubtedly a forgery.

  It had happened before. A guilty man goes to Glasgow to post it there, worth the train journey to prove his innocence.

  When Jack arrived most of my theories were proven to be wrong.

  'Yes, Rose. We have the lett
er. He brought it in this morning.'

  When I pointed out very solemnly the chances of it being a forgery. Jack laughed.

  'Come along, Rose. We are on to all that.' He grinned. 'You can't teach the police about forgery. First thing we do is check letters with other examples of the writer's handwriting.'

  'Has he produced some?'

  'No. He said he didn't know proof was expected. Sounded quite hurt and belligerent, so the lads told me. Anyway, he didn't think it would be a problem, said there must be birthday cards she'd sent him that he'd kept.'

  'And did he take the letter home?'

  'Why do you ask that?' said Jack with a shrewd glance.

  'Isn't it obvious - he could have copied her writing from these birthday cards or whatever.'

  Jack nodded. 'We are aware of that - so we keep the letter anyway.'

  'I'd also like to know when it was posted.'

  'Two days ago, in Glasgow according to the postmark. And before you ask the obvious - yes, he was in Glasgow, at his insurance firm's branch there.'

  'A remarkable coincidence, don't you think?'

  'Yes, but it happened to be true. We had a plain-clothes lad make a few enquiries, on a supposed personal matter. He was told they were sorry but Mr Marks was away to their Glasgow office that day.'

  'I'm amazed that knowing all this, Jack Macmerry, you didn't arrest him on the spot-'

  'Wait a moment. Rose. We have nothing to charge him with. This is just elementary police procedure where missing persons are concerned. We have to check everything.'

  And when I mentioned insurance policies, he said, 'That isn't new either. Your father would have told you that false claims are a perpetual menace. Men who would never think of stealing a silver spoon from a friend's house will happily defraud the insurance companies who have given them employment.'

  'I was thinking about something much more serious than fraud.'

  'Like what?'

  'Murder.'