Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery) Read online

  'I felt so badly about this, Rose,' he said sounding contrite. 'Duets from the operas with Signor and Madame Rossi. They're not to be missed. According to the reviews, straight from London and New York. Let's go - a bite of supper somewhere first-'

  'Jack,' I interrupted. 'There's been a murder.'

  He looked astonished. 'A murder? Where?'

  'At St Anthony's Chapel. I found - or rather Thane found a body. A woman - thirtyish. I was at my wits' end. She'd been strangled. I didn't know what to do, but then I saw the constable on the beat. Not Lenny - a new chap. He went back with me. He took over, sent a cabbie back with a message to the station.'

  'How long ago was this?' Jack demanded sharply.

  'Ten - twenty minutes ago.'

  'I'd have left by then. They'll send someone but as I'm on the spot I'd better have a look. And as you found the body, Inspector Grey will want a statement.' Jack sighed deeply. 'Dammit, Rose. There goes our supper and probably our evening out as well. Can't be helped - I'll be as quick as I can. St Anthony's Chapel, you said?'

  'Wait. I'm coming with you.'

  When he said I should just wait for him, I replied, 'Don't argue, Jack. It's all right. I'm not squeamish about dead bodies.'

  As the gig trotted back along the road towards the ruined chapel, I filled in the details about the dead woman, her description and my good fortune in finding PC Smith passing by.

  Charlie and the carriage had disappeared, doubtless by now at the station with a message for the inspector.

  'So you know PC Smith?' I asked Jack.

  'No, but that isn't surprising. A lot of new young bobbies have been recruited recently. They're needed since the outskirts of the city are expanding in all directions. Go on...'

  At last the dark ruins hovered above us. The cabbie, told to wait, obligingly lent Jack one of his lanterns.

  I heard my heart beating fast as we scrambled up the last few yards, Jack running ahead, the light held high.

  He shouted, 'Hello there, constable.'

  There was no reply, only a chill and eerie wind blowing down from the hill, the darkness unbroken.

  'Hello?' Jack called again and turned to me, his angry exclamation indicating that Smith should have been here guarding the body until the ambulance wagon and some senior officers arrived.

  So where was he? Jack waved the lantern, shouted again, 'Hello?'

  But there was no sign of him.

  Worse, the dead woman had vanished.

  Jack swore and turned to me.

  'Sure this is the right place. Rose?'

  I pointed to the base of the wall. 'She was lying right there.'

  He went over and knelt down. 'Here?'

  'Yes.'

  I watched him methodically searching the stones for clues. There were none and he was annoyed with good reason. At last he shook his head and stood up, dusting down the knees of his best trousers.

  'What the devil has happened?'

  'I'd suggest that as the carriage has gone, your constable got the driver's help and they've taken the body to the mortuary,' I said helpfully. 'He was young and he seemed inexperienced,' I added in the lad's defence, remembering his fumbling attempts at taking a witness statement from me. 'Perhaps he was scared to stay with her alone.'

  'Come on, Rose,' Jack said impatiently. 'Even young constables have to learn not to be scared of dead bodies. I'll have strong words for Constable Smith when I get back. He should know - for God's sake, it's first rules that you never leave a dead body found in suspicious circumstances until a senior officer - a detective and a doctor - come and have a look at it.'

  Raising the lantern again for a closer look at the wall, he added grimly, 'He'll be even more scared of the living than the dead when I'm through with him.' And turning to me: 'This cab you say that was waiting on the road down there...'

  'Yes, the cabbie was called Charlie. According to the constable he was out rabbiting.'

  'Hmph,' said Jack.

  'Since they've all disappeared, I'm sure there's a simple explanation,' I insisted, 'and your over-zealous lad took the law into his own hands.'

  'He needn't expect any thanks for that,' said Jack grimly. 'He sounds pretty useless from what you've told me. I doubt whether he'll last long in the force.'

  Those were also my thoughts as he went on, 'No doubt the inspector in charge - probably Grey - will take care of the details. Nothing we can do here, Rose. Better get to the concert.'

  'I need to get changed, Jack' I protested.

  He stared at me in amazement. 'You look great.'

  'I don't. I have to do my hair. I'm a mess.'

  My unruly mop of yellow curls needed constant discipline if it wasn't to end up looking like a haystack. And I was still in my outdoor sketching clothes. It wouldn't do at all.

  I was looking forward to wearing my new skirt and jacket. It was a flattering shade of deep blue and this would be its first outing.

  Poor Jack shook his head in bewilderment. 'You look absolutely stunning as you are,' he said with manlike indifference to the vanities of womenkind.

  Half an hour later we were on our way to the concert. But I didn't really enjoy it very much. I kept thinking of that dead woman and working out logical reasons for the thoroughly incompetent PC Smith's behaviour.

  Jack didn't stay that night. He decided to go straight back to the station, an attack of conscience, in case Inspector Grey needed information about the dead woman we believed would now be lying in the police mortuary. After seeing me safely back to my front door, he drove off in the hackney cab.

  I didn't feel like being on my own and didn't sleep much either. This was the first night I had been completely alone in the house. When Jack was around my faithful deerhound made himself scarce and this night's sinister events - the walking dead - awakened uneasy memories of Edgar Allan Poe's more lurid Tales of Mystery and Imagination.

  With Thane sleeping in the kitchen downstairs I would have felt safe. Even Cat's presence had been a comfort. She wasn't in the least like Thane who could tackle anyone, the perfect guard dog, but I still felt reasonably secure with any animal that could make a noise to alert me and possibly frighten off an intruder.

  Wide awake I stared out into a dark sky broken by swift-moving clouds accompanied by an eldrich wind that rattled the windows and sent scurrying leaves pattering like rapid footsteps along the stone paths around the old Tower.

  And tomorrow, I remembered, was 31st October - Hallowe'en. That witches' sabbath still made me uneasy, recalling an Orkney childhood of Gran's superstitions and ghost stories, some pretty horrific, especially the dead walking...

  Although common sense said that such things belonged to the pages of fairy tales, this would be my first encounter with the most sinister date in the year in Solomon's Tower. I hadn't thought much about it before but it now took on a new significance: I was living on the scene of many strange goings-on through the passing centuries. Which included, I did not doubt, any number of forgotten grisly rituals and manifestations of a past lost to history. The upstairs floor showed indications of a place of Christian worship dating to the time of the Knights Templar, but I suspected the origins of the building went further back to the time of pagan gods on Arthur's Seat.

  There were still many unanswered questions, unexplained and tantalizing mysteries like the miniature coffins which my father as a schoolboy had discovered, and whose existence had been seized upon by news-hungry journalists as sensational evidence of black magic and witches' covens.

  And much nearer home for me there was Thane. Where did a mysterious deerhound who came and went with no evident lair fit into a legend that included the deerhounds of King Arthur and his knights? They were said to lie sleeping in a chamber deep in the heart of the mountain. A shepherd boy had seen them with his own eyes in my great-grandfather's day but, raising the alert, he had never been able to find the place again.

  I had learned to accept Thane. He was real enough and perhaps I didn't want to
know the answers in case they included an indignant owner who might appear any day to reclaim him.

  Determinedly pushing scary thoughts aside, I let my thoughts drift to the cheerful prospect of seeing Vince tomorrow for this was a big event for me and a big day for Edinburgh's calendar.

  Princess Beatrice, Princess Henry of Battenburg, the Queen's youngest daughter, was to open the new children's hospital. And my stepbrother Dr Vince Laurie was to be one of the royal escort.

  It made Vince feel very important, this medical care of royal personages. He had promised to come and see me before returning to Balmoral. And then just a few days ago I received a letter, that I was being invited to accompany him to the royal lunch since Olivia had stayed in London to look after the wee girls and the new baby.

  Olivia was a conscientious mother who refused to follow fashion by relying on nannies or to allow anything to interfere with Jason's four-hourly breast-feeding. Right from the start she declined to hand over little Jason to the care of a wet nurse, which would have left her free to accompany Vince to Balmoral, Windsor, Osborne, or wherever the Queen's whim took her. Vince accepted Olivia's decision, having decided that Jason would be their last child anyway.

  Eyebrows might have been raised at this pronouncement against the will of God, but Vince, as a doctor, knew a thing or two which I had found invaluable about birth control. As soon as he realized that Jack and I were more than just friends, he had tactfully sat me down on one of his rare visits to give me the benefits of his advice and instructions. I was not the only beneficiary, I gathered that such knowledge had been useful and was much in demand in royal service.

  I concentrated my thoughts on what to wear tomorrow, going through my limited wardrobe. The most elegant and suitable items were mostly cast-offs from Olivia and my wealthy friend Alice, remade to my smaller measurements. This reviewing did not take long but it was exhausting enough to put me to sleep.

  Sorely troubled by nightmares I was glad to open my eyes at last to another dawn, a thankfully greeted grey square in the window. Downstairs I pulled out the tin bath in front of the peat fire and, aided by several kettles of water, had my daily ablutions.

  Returning upstairs to the bedroom, I held up the claret silk dress with its ruffles of Chantilly lace. Critically considering my reflection in Olivia's long mirror, I saw that I was far from my best. If only I were taller, what a difference that would have made to my morale. I stood on tiptoe: those extra two inches would have brought me over the threshold of five foot which had always seemed eminently desirable. And if only I had smooth amenable hair instead of a mop of wild unruly yellow curls. If only-

  The sound of a carriage outside announced Jack.

  Throwing on a robe, I ran downstairs and knew by one look at his face that all was not well. I could expect bad news.

  He kissed me absent-mindedly and said, 'Rose, are you quite certain that the woman you found was dead?'

  I looked at him. 'Sure as you are standing there. Jack. A scarf tied tight around her neck, she was strangled - quite dead.'

  Jack frowned. 'You said you undid the scarf.'

  'I didn't realize she was dead - her eyes weren't completely closed. I had to feel for the pulse in her neck to make sure.'

  Jack's expression was grim. He shook his head. 'Rose, I think you made a mistake. I hate to question your judgement,' he added quickly and gently still, 'but I think she wasn't dead at all. Her eyes were partly open, because she was merely in shock. She had fainted, had an attack of some kind.' He shrugged. 'Maybe she slipped on the hill, knocked herself out. Who knows? But whatever it was she recovered and walked away-'

  'Jack, that's impossible. I've seen too many dead people to make that kind of mistake,' and, taking an unfair advantage, added, 'I've had more experience than you in that direction for a start.'

  He ignored that. 'Listen to me and try not to get angry. I'm as anxious as you are to get the facts right.' He paused and added slowly, 'No dead woman has been brought into the mortuary.'

  'Then ask PC Smith, for heaven's sake. He was there.'

  'Rose' he said patiently, 'there is no PC Smith.'

  'But I gave you his division number. A654.'

  He shook his head. 'There is no A654 on the records either.' Tapping his teeth with his forefinger, a familiar gesture when he was worried, he regarded me gravely. 'If she wasn't injured, as I think was the case, the only other explanation is that you were the victim of a practical joke. And you arrived at the wrong moment for whoever it was intended.'

  'Jack Macmerry,' I exploded, 'no one in their right senses plays that kind of joke. The constable was really scared. And besides, before I saw him down on the road, I made a drawing of the woman.'

  I went to the sideboard. 'Here, look for yourself.'

  Jack smiled. 'Damned good drawing, Rose. But she doesn't look dead. Now, honestly, does she?' He handed it back to me. 'And it isn't really evidence of what you're trying to prove.'

  'Thane was with me. He knew she was dead. He led me to her. A sleeping woman would have jumped out of her skin when a huge deerhound started sniffing around her.'

  Jack sighed. 'Thane! A dog nobody ever sees - but us. He could hardly be called in to give evidence. Try producing him in court as a witness-'

  "Then there was the cab driver - Charlie.'

  'Did you see him?'

  'No, he was down the hill rabbiting. But I heard the constable shouting to him. As I told you, he was going to take a message to the station, ask for the ambulance wagon to be sent.'

  'Rose' said Jack patiently, 'there was no message. No dead person. Look, I'll have to go, I just had to tell you.'

  He kissed me. 'I don't want you worrying - put all this out of your mind and enjoy your lunch with Vince. Give him my best.'

  Angry, disturbed and confused, I was momentarily speechless at the arrogance of men, at being patronized. I didn't like it, cast in the role of the wee woman who sees things and has a phantom dog!

  He kissed me again, with more feeling this time, aware that I was unresponsive. 'It will all get sorted out, you'll see.' And at the door: 'I'll be round this evening.'

  'Vince will be here,' I said coldly.

  'Yes, of course,' he said vaguely, waiting for me to say please come.

  I didn't. My time with Vince was too precious to share, although the two men liked each other and shared a common interest in my future. They both wanted to see me married again, settled down in woman's proper role in man's life.

  'Have you checked your missing persons list at the station?'

  He looked vague and sighed. 'Not really.'

  'Then please do something for me, Jack.' I tried not to sound exasperated. 'Check who you have on it already and how long they've been missing.'

  And taking the sketchbook I tore out the drawing I had made. 'When you have a spare moment, see if there's anyone who could remotely resemble this likeness. And let me have it back when you've finished with it.'

  Chapter Five

  After Jack left, I did as I was told and, thrusting aside all matters relating to the dead woman for the moment, I dressed ready to go into Edinburgh and meet Vince.

  Filled with almost unbearable excitement I waited for the carriage coming up the road: an important-looking brougham, with two splendidly groomed horses, a footman and a rather imperious and immaculate coachman in livery that went with the royal coat of arms on the door.

  As we trotted past, Auld Rory stood by the roadside clearly impressed. Removing his clay pipe he solemnly saluted, gave me a grin and departing wave. Strains of ‘Soldiers of the Queen' followed us as we disappeared down the road and I knew he would be waiting to hear all the details when I got back.

  I was put down at the Balmoral Hotel near the railway station where the royal party were staying overnight and luncheon was being provided for specially invited guests.

  Bursting with pride I was announced and Vince rushed forward to greet me wearing formal court dress, with a new medal and loo
king absolutely stunning. 'You're just in time,' he said.

  'Will I be all right?' I asked as he looked me over, his expression a mite nervous. 'Is this dressy enough? My wardrobe doesn't rise to much in the way of smart afternoon gowns.' I spread the skirts a little. 'My lifestyle doesn't offer much in the way of occasions like this...'

  Vince's smile was a little anxious and I added, 'This is the only one I possess.'

  In answer he squeezed my arm reassuringly. 'You'll be fine, the belle of the ball. But don't catch cold...' His gaze took in a preponderance of fur cloaks. I had only a thin matching jacket for my gown. 'Will you be warm enough? It's a raw sort of day.'

  At that moment we were ushered towards the dining-room. I felt flushed with excitement, almost indecently warm, and all ready to break out into an unladylike sweat.

  'Matters have been delayed,' Vince told me. 'Her Royal Highness has an ear infection. Had it before we left Balmoral. Needed constant medical attention, which is my reason for being with her. It's been troublesome and she slept badly. Her Majesty fusses over her, urged her to cancel but she refused to let it interfere with her schedule which must be seen to run smoothly.'

  In a worried tone, he added, 'She has a heavy day of engagements ahead.' All this in a stage whisper as we took our places at the end of a long table to await the arrival of Princess Beatrice.

  Thirty-eight years old, mother of two children, Princess Henry of Battenburg was also known in royal circles as 'Baby'. So her doting mother, the Queen thought of her. She had never wanted her youngest daughter to marry and as a flagrant reminder of her youth and inexperience (I got all of this from Vince later), she was accompanied to Edinburgh by Her Majesty's favourite lady-in-waiting Lady Antrim. A rare privilege indeed.

  At last the assembled diners stood up to bow or curtsey as the royal party took their places at the centre of the table and Grace was said by the Moderator of the Church of Scotland.

  As we waited to be served, I was disappointed to observe that the Princess and her companion were less splendidly attired than I had imagined. I had expected tiaras and splendid day gowns of lace, satin or velvet. Instead the Princess looked disappointingly ordinary and subdued, in a modest navy blue skirt and a silk blouse with the new balloon-shaped sleeves. Her blue velvet toque had not succumbed to the taste for flowers and feathers but was unadorned, apart from a sparkling brooch, doubtless a precious diamond from her royal mamma's priceless collection.