Murder Lies Waiting Page 6

  I had confessed to Sadie my fears as we boarded the ferry. She had found it difficult to understand and laughed. She wasn’t afraid of anything except the wrong verdict for Sarah Vantry, but I was sure she had taken into her calculations that I had been so delighted with the Yesnabys’ motor car in Orkney this summer that I had persuaded Jack to teach me to drive.

  He had frowned a bit over that, the idea of using a police car and so forth, but the roads around us on the southside of Edinburgh were adjacent to the countryside and he was soon satisfied that as well as being a woman who rode a bicycle, once regarded as quite scandalous, I would be competent in charge of a motor car. When he said ‘Well done’ I was delighted to have his approval, although my achievement was purely superficial in that I had yet to master what happened in the mysterious regions of the engine.

  ‘Your motor car would be excellent. And I can drive.’

  ‘You can, Mrs Macmerry?’ Harry’s eyebrows shot skywards at my simple statement, surprised but doubtful regarding the mechanical abilities of this small lady with the mass of yellow curls that made her still look quite young. Although Sadie had hinted that she was past forty.

  A second’s throat clearing from Gerald: ‘If you are quite sure, madam.’

  ‘Yes and immediately, if that is possible, Mr Thorn,’ I said sternly.

  Harry laughed. ‘Oh, please call him Gerald.’

  A polite smile. ‘Very well. In that case …’ And he drew out a document from under the counter but I suspected with more apprehension than he would have had in dealing with a male customer. Preparing to fill in the details, I was asked searching questions about my abilities, which I listened to with a forbearing smile and prepared to hand over the required fee in a determined fashion. He still looked a trifle uneasy and felt impelled to read me the rather trying instructions, including restrictions on driving any vehicle on any part of a highway less than sixteen feet wide, where motor car traffic would be especially dangerous.

  I did a mental calculation that this was fairly narrow and he gave me a hard look before deciding that I was joking when I asked was the driver expected to get out and measure the road.

  Harry said briskly: ‘I’m sure Mrs Macmerry doesn’t need to be bothered with all these tiresome details, Gerry,’ and to me a consoling smile, ‘I’m sure she’ll keep a sharp look out for such things.’

  Ignoring Harry and frowning over the document, Gerald gave it a shake. ‘There’s something else. It says a person shall not drive a motor car at a speed exceeding ten miles per hour within the places specified in these regulations.’

  I smiled encouragingly and said I thought it doubtful that I would drive at more than ten. ‘So that is settled – when will the motor car be ready?’

  ‘Whenever madam wishes.’

  ‘Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, if you please.’

  ‘Very well. I will have it prepared and provide you with the necessary maps so you won’t get lost on the way to St Blane’s.’

  ‘You will find the drive quite delightful,’ Harry interrupted. ‘There are some lovely views across the Firth of Clyde from Kilchattan Bay, aren’t there, Gerald?’

  Gerald merely nodded. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’

  ‘There is one more thing. I like old castles too. I know of Kames but I believe there is also one near St Colmac?’

  ‘Indeed and you are fortunate,’ he replied. ‘There is a special weekend tour to Vantry Castle, a big tourist attraction run by the tramway, which continues from Port Bannatyne and links up with a horse-drawn vehicle from St Colmac, and during the season takes passengers right to the door instead of having to endure a steep walk uphill.’

  He looked at us both and smiled. ‘But the walk would be no trouble to you two ladies and we are delighted to find out that you are not mere tourists but genuinely interested in the area.’

  A tourist attraction with a special tour ominously suggested a historic ruin.

  But to my question, Harry said: ‘By no means. The original castle is ruinous but Vantry is a splendid mansion, its contents of great historic interest. The family have lived there continually since it was first built in the early eighteenth century. Alas, like many such families there is no direct heir to inherit when Lady Vantry goes. And she must be well past eighty—’

  So Lady Adeline was still alive! Sadie will be interested to hear that, I thought, as he went on: ‘We see little of her in Rothesay, nowadays. Some years ago she had a riding accident that left her face badly scarred. She was something of a beauty in her day and certainly worthy of the title of the town’s lady bountiful, but now only on rare occasions she comes into the town and continues to wear the deep mourning for a family lost long ago.’

  Did that indicate she was a widow after all, and what had happened to the absentee husband who had pleaded for his philandering to be forgiven? I asked: ‘Who takes care of her?’

  Harry thought for a moment. ‘No living-in servants any longer. A matter of finances, one gathers – Vantry is expensive to upkeep these days and a couple of relatives, her nephew and niece, came to live with her a few years ago. They take good care of Vantry and look after her well.’

  Vantry sounded more and more desolate and less and less the sort of place I wanted to visit. And on what excuse? I couldn’t see a reclusive old lady throwing open the door and inviting nosy tourists disguised as archaeologists or writers into her sanctuary.

  I knew all about ruinous castles or towers and this was not what I had expected when I left Solomon’s Tower. I groaned. How was I to infiltrate Sadie into the scene of the crime? And what was the reality I had let myself in for, with visions of that luxurious holiday in a first-class hotel like a dream fast fading.

  On my way to report back to Sadie, I was very impressed by the knowledgeable Gerald Thorn and the responsive and highly intelligent Harry Godwin, mostly because the latter, shaking back that untidy blonde hair from his forehead as he spoke, made him look more than ever like a truculent schoolboy. I wondered how his appearance would strike those wealthy clients from overseas before Gerald took them over. Sadie had made a casual reference to a fellow she had met in Duddingston, but after seeing them together, I was curious to know more about that and what had led us to the Heights Hotel in Bute.

  My account of the present situation at Vantry indicated my thoughts and reservations.

  Sadie sighed. ‘What a pity. It used to be a pretty place, nice formal gardens and so forth.’

  ‘Mm.’ I said. ‘That was twenty years ago, remember, and with an invalid owner and no servants, a lot of things can change quite rapidly.’

  Fortunately, the hotel also sported a handsome library and reading room. On its shelves were interesting accounts of Bute. I found what I was looking for, a history with an account of Vantry, and what was even better than a line drawing, an oil painting, allegedly by Allan Ramsay. Growing rather dark with neglect and the passing years, this seventeenth-century depiction had the castle as background, banners flying and on a pleasant lawn in the foreground, children playing and grown-ups having a picnic of some sort.

  There were to be more surprises that day.

  We dined in the early evening and as we were about to leave, Harry rushed over. We were to meet the inhabitants of Vantry, Edgar and Beatrice Worth, the couple who looked after Lady Adeline.

  Harry was quite excited and he beamed at us, or more correctly, as usual at Sadie. Turning away from her unwillingly, he became aware of my presence and said, ‘As you are so interested in their history, Mrs Macmerry, perhaps I might be allowed the privilege of introducing them. This is an excellent opportunity, well-timed as they only dine with us about once a month.’ Leaning over confidentially, he added: ‘Usually linked with business matters, running Vantry, bills to pay and so forth. Her ladyship is rather frail and only on rare occasions honours Rothesay with a visit.’

  At my side, Sadie’s nervous expression as she clutched my arm indicated that she was not impressed
at the prospect of meeting some Vantry relatives who might remember her, and relief that Lady Adeline was not with them.

  I had my own problems, apprehensive that Harry’s introduction would elicit polite but probing questions about this famous authoress Rose Macmerry: What had I written and so forth? Would they have read any of my books? Did I use a pseudonym?

  It was going to prove very difficult fielding them off and Sadie whispered that, in the interests of caution, she was off too – a lady’s maid wouldn’t be expected to put in an appearance surplus to requirements.

  I thought otherwise. ‘You can’t keep running away,’ I told her. ‘The whole point of this expedition and for you to prove anything is that you must go to Vantry again and this is the perfect opportunity, if we can secure an invitation.’

  But she was quite adamant. ‘As most of the other guests are dining at this hour, the bathroom on our floor is unlikely to be occupied and it’s a great opportunity for me.’ She touched her hair with a gesture of distaste. ‘Badly needs washing. Hadn’t time before we left Edinburgh.’

  Her glossy hair was her greatest attribute, one of her only outstanding features, and she was justly proud of it, but so thick and heavy, it needed hours to dry. However, her excuses regarding a dreaded meeting with the couple from Vantry proved unnecessary.

  It did not work out that way at all and I was spared the embarrassment of basking in a temporary lie of false glory in my role as an authoress. This was fated to be a very brief introduction to Edgar Worth and his sister Beatrice.

  Edgar was, I judged, in his mid forties, medium-tall, thin and balding. If he had ever possessed good looks, then they had already faded, an unprepossessing sallow countenance, sharp-faced and thin-lipped, but it was his expression that intrigued me most. He looked ill at ease, nervous, his eyes darting back and forth. Here was a man who was expecting trouble and Harry had hardly got the words of introduction out of his mouth, bows acknowledged, and I had quickly released his unpleasantly sweating hand when a tall, distinguished-looking elderly man approached. He was obviously their host for the evening. With an apologetic smile in my direction, Harry led them to a table.

  I had taken in as much as I could of Edgar’s sister, Beatrice. There was no family likeness but she was the same height, elegantly dressed and slim, I presumed, under the hourglass figure, a de rigueur fashion that I personally deplored. She did, however, share a vestige of her brother’s nervous disposition but thankfully a firm and mercifully dry handshake.

  As important guests, instead of a usual silent waiter, they were taken over by Thorn and ushered to their table where they began at once studying the menus he handed to them. I was curious, I wanted to linger, so I took a seat as near as possible and began studying the history of Bute, while lending an ear to the conversation at the adjacent table. I was to be disappointed: their voices were kept at a very low pitch, but an air of confidentiality and frequent frowns suggested urgency and that business matters were under discussion. Then I had a stroke of luck with the chance to learn more of Beatrice.

  Suddenly she leant over and whispered to her brother, both men stood up and watched her leave. I realised she was heading in the direction of the Ladies Room and this was an opportunity not to be missed. I followed her and when she emerged from one of the lavatories I watched her at the washbasin. Gran would have been suitably impressed by those beringed ‘lady’s hands’, long, slim and elegant. She dried them carefully and a moment later we were both side by side looking into a large mirror at our reflections.

  She was probably a little younger than Sadie, although there was no comparison in looks. At that first short encounter I felt that Beatrice Worth, setting aside her somewhat forlorn brother, would command immediate attention. A pretty, clever face that caused me to wonder again about that self-inflicted sojourn in Vantry. She must be devoted to Lady Vantry and to her brother to be content with such an existence.

  She patted her hair into shape, bit her lips as we all did to increase the redness, and satisfied with her appearance, turned to leave. I followed, wishing I could think of delaying tactics and strike up more than the polite smile of two women meeting in the Ladies Room.

  Clearly she did not intend to further Harry’s quick introduction, or, I suspected, had more important things on her mind at that moment. A slight bow as we were leaving, as she held the door for me and walked swiftly to the table where her brother was wearing the rather set smile and making polite gestures, which suggested their host for the evening was someone of importance, most likely a businessman they were anxious to impress with their connections to Lady Adeline, staking out their future if and when they inherited Vantry.

  CHAPTER NINE

  About to return to my room and heading towards the stairs, I remembered what I had left on the armchair. Returning to the restaurant, Harry approached holding the book.

  ‘I was about to deliver it to your room.’

  As I thanked him he said: ‘After breakfast in the morning for the motor car – will that be suitable?’

  I said yes, and showing a certain reluctance to leave, he turned. ‘Am I right in presuming that S—er, your maid will be accompanying you to down to St Blane’s? It is quite a long drive for a lady on her own,’ he added reflectively.

  Again I said yes, my maid would be with me, but in point of fact our planned drive tomorrow was much closer to Rothesay. ‘We have decided to explore the area around St Colmac’s.’

  A moment’s hesitation, a frown before he replied: ‘If you should have second thoughts about driving, madam, we also provide a chauffeur service.’

  At a price, I thought. Maybe he observed that as he grinned, ‘Gerry and I both drive. And I particularly enjoy the chance to get behind the wheel again,’ he added wistfully.

  My curiosity about the Worths still unsatisfied, I had one more question before going upstairs where Sadie was waiting for my report. I wondered how much of Harry’s generous offer related to her possible presence in the motor car. And of greater importance, did we really want to have him with us on what might prove to be quite a delicate mission?

  ‘What did you think of those two from Vantry?’ she asked, eagerly awaiting descriptions.

  This was not a simple question to answer. I told her that I had had little time for a careful assessment of the siblings. They had both had their backs towards me seated at the table and I could hardly spin round my armchair to put into more active operation Pa’s well-taught observation and deduction technique. This was based on our early travels by coach or railway train when I was expected to have made an assessment from the appearance of the passengers seated opposite and hazard an accurate account of their occupations, age and circumstances. I had found it an invaluable lesson. Over the years, it became almost an automatic response to meeting strangers – with my assumptions seldom proved wrong, since the odds on a future meeting were highly unlikely.

  ‘The Worths were not in the least alike and there was little to be considered. Edgar was not at all prepossessing, his sister is quite good-looking and obviously keeps up with the Edinburgh fashions, despite being isolated in Bute.’

  Sadie looked disappointed, clearly expecting more, so I continued:

  ‘Edgar is the elder, mid to late forties, going bald, average height with no distinguishing features beyond a sharp face …’ I paused. ‘He looked nervous and his expression accounted for those bitten fingernails I could not help noticing when we were introduced.’

  Sadie laughed at this piece of observation as I went on: ‘He kept glancing anxiously over his shoulder, keeping a good lookout – presumably for the arrival of their important host for the evening. And that set me thinking. Was this a business acquaintance – someone they had just met?’

  ‘Sounds as if they were meeting for the first time and Edgar was anxious to impress him.’

  ‘The same thought had occurred to me and to Gerald. He was in attendance at their table instead of one of the waiters. The pair were both certainl
y well dressed for the occasion, Beatrice in particular, one might say, overdressed. She had not spared the feathers and flounces. But after Harry’s quick introduction, I got the feeling that both of them were ill at ease as if a great deal hung upon this meeting.’

  ‘Did you observe that she had bitten fingernails too?’ Sadie asked mockingly.

  Ignoring that I said, ‘I got the impression this was not just a casual dinner engagement. There was something more, some important reason for their meeting.’

  ‘Tell me about Beatrice,’ Sadie demanded.

  ‘She looked bright and intelligent-looking, but her quick, nervous smiles suggested that this was an important occasion, with more at stake than dining with an old family friend.’

  I told her about the encounter in the Ladies Room and what I had observed. ‘She was taller than me and slimmer, a good figure, and a closer look confirmed what I expected from their circumstances: they looked well off, well fed. And she’s a lot younger than her brother. She was paying particular attention to her hair and I noticed, as always, she has nice hands.’

  Sadie sighed. ‘Your usual observation point, of course.’

  ‘Hers are long-fingered, slim, like yours, Sadie – not like mine – and I would hazard a guess not much worn by hard work either. She hadn’t scrubbed as many floors as I have, so there must be other servants at Vantry who do the heavy work.’