Dangerous Pursuits (A Rose McQuinn Mystery) Read online

  Eventually I arrived at the door of a neat terrace house near Haymarket. I rang the bell.

  There was no reply. I was feeling cross and tired with all my exertions and there was no welcome sight of a tearoom where I might get some refreshment before making the return journey.

  A young woman pushing a perambulator had arrived at the house next door. She smiled at me politely as I shrugged and said, 'Not at home, I fear?'

  "Bertha goes to choir practice on a Saturday. She sings in the local church. Did she not tell you?'

  I murmured something non-committal, thanked her and wearily made my way back through the traffic to the peace and quiet of Solomon's Tower.

  I made some tea, and while the kettle was boiling I had a bite to eat and recorded my visits in the logbook I kept. Then I remembered I hadn't put my bicycle away. I was wheeling it into the barn when I saw a figure hurrying up the road.

  It was Nancy, heading from the direction of Newington Station and carrying several parcels.

  She was somewhat out of breath as she indicated them. 'I had to go into Edinburgh and collect some clothes for the children.' Stopping, she gasped, 'I had to see you, so I got off the train. The chance you might be at home-'

  'Come inside,' I interrupted.

  She regarded the bicycle anxiously. 'I'm so glad I caught you, Rose. Are you in a desperate hurry?'

  'Not at all. I've been out, I'm just back.'

  She followed me into the Tower. The tea was still hot and I put some scones on a plate. Eating one gratefully, she watched me.

  At last she said, 'Rose, I just had to see you. Desmond's wife has left him,' she announced dramatically. 'He told me at our rehearsal last night. He's absolutely devastated.'

  Considering Desmond and his wife's cat-and-dog existence as related to Nancy, I imagined this was an exaggeration and that he would be relieved at this solution.

  'When did this happen?'

  'A few days ago.'

  'And he didn't tell you until yesterday?'

  She spread her hands wide. 'The poor fellow didn't know she had run away. She told him she was going to visit her sister in Leith, but when he went to collect her last night, he found Nellie packing a bag. She was very surprised to see him since Nora had never been to see her, nor was she expecting a visit.'

  She sighed. 'What really worried him was that Nellie said Nora knew she wouldn't be at home, that she was going to Aberdeen for a friend's wedding. What was more, she couldn't have forgotten, since they had talked of nothing else for weeks. She'd even borrowed one of Nora's hats.'

  'So where had she gone?' I asked, although the pattern emerging was beginning to sound a little familiar and I would have placed a bet that a letter from Nora telling him she had met another man would be the next thing Desmond would hear.

  Nancy said, 'He hasn't the slightest idea what has happened to her. He's worried sick. He said he'd give her until this weekend and if she didn't come back, then he'd notify the police.'

  And another name for Jack's list, I thought.

  She paused and looked at me. 'When he asked if I could do anything to help, I said I knew someone who could.'

  I stared at her.

  'Yes, Rose. I knew you were the very person. So I told him I had a friend who was good at tracking down missing persons, that she did it professionally.' She chuckled. 'That put him in a great state. He thought I was advising a spirit medium. And I had to tell him it was the living you were in contact with, not the dead. He said he'd pay anything you cared to ask. He just had to find Nora. Not that he wanted her back, but he had to be sure that she was safe and well and that nothing had happened to her.'

  I asked the question I had been dying to ask. 'Is there someone else?'

  She blushed. 'You know how he feels about me, Rose-'

  'I don't mean you, Nancy, I mean, does he have any reason to believe that the breakdown of their marriage might have been because Nora had met someone?'

  Nancy shook her head, said firmly, 'Never. He was quite sure about that.'

  Well, he wouldn't be the first husband to live in a fool's paradise believing that his wife would never look at another man, I thought, as she said:

  'Will you take it on? Please, Rose, say yes. He's in a very bad way. And with Pirates he needs all his energy and concentration. It is such a demanding role.' She took my hand. 'Please, Rose. As a favour to me,' she added desperately.

  When I said yes - with considerable reluctance, I had to admit - Nancy laughed. 'I was so sure you would agree that I said I'd bring you down to meet him after the rehearsal tomorrow evening.'

  My eyebrows rose a little at that. If this got around, the Sunday Observance Society would be out in force.

  Nancy saw my expression.

  'Some of the cast object to working on a Sunday, but then with our less fortunate folk (as most of them are) working all week, Sunday's their only free day for rehearsal. You don't mind, do you. Rose?'

  When I said I didn't, she added anxiously, 'You will be understanding, won't you, please? He is such a dear friend.'

  I promised understanding and Nancy's sigh was that of a job well done.

  Outside it would be dark, the hill radiant in the last rays of the setting sun.

  'I must be getting back,' she said.

  'There's a short cut from my back garden across the lower reaches of the hill, and I think it probably leads directly into a lane at the back of Carthew House.'

  As we set off and I insisted on carrying some of her parcels, I told her how I had observed the roof of the old mansion amid vast gardens. It was built at the time of the Jacobite Rising, and Prince Charles Edward Stuart - Bonnie Prince Charlie to those who loved and loyally followed him - had stayed there before the Battle of Prestonpans.

  Nancy was fascinated by this piece of romance. As we walked. Thane loped down the hill and joined us. Nancy was one of his favoured humans, one he could trust despite the fact that she had almost given up offering useful suggestions as to where he lived and was beginning to accept him with a certain amount of resignation and inaccuracy as 'Rose's dog'.

  As we climbed, we were rewarded by fine views of the East Lothian coastline stretching towards Musselburgh and the Firth of Forth with its tiny islands like humpbacked whales.

  Thane raced ahead. Nancy was delighted with this new discovery of a short cut to the Tower. 'It will only take ten minutes and I'll be able to use it when I come across on foot. How clever of you. Rose, you must know this area very well.'

  'I have had a lot of time to explore with Thane, and many years ago Pappa and Emily and I walked every inch of Arthur's Seat,' I added wistfully as, to tell truth, I recalled only one happy occasion when we had a whole day's picnic.

  At last we glimpsed the imposing mansion far below us, much modified by the passing decades; pepperpot turrets and gardens were visible through the trees, still clad in the golden glory of autumn.

  'I'm so lucky,' Nancy sighed. 'A lovely house and such lovely people. Thanks to this short cut, I'll be in time to give Mrs Laing a hand with their supper. She does appreciate that.' And with a shake of her head: 'I do agree with her, it would be an improvement if they employed a table maid, at least. With all their money, surely they could afford that.'

  As parting drew near, Nancy got on to her favourite topic. Jack. Where was he?

  I told her he had gone to visit his parents and left it at that. I wasn't prepared to turn the knife. I waved her goodbye and walked slowly homeward down to the Tower.

  Let Nancy keep her dreams. I wasn't going to be the one to destroy them for Jack had been replaced. Momentarily perhaps, he had taken second place in importance in her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Next morning, before the bells started ringing, I decided to go to church. Taking out my map, I knew that I must cycle, although such activities were much frowned upon on the sabbath. But that prospect did not concern me unduly. By the nature of my life and chosen profession, I was long past obeying conventio
ns.

  Regretting I had not asked Miss Simms' neighbour which church she attended, I checked out the local ones in the invaluable electoral register, dismissing those unlikely to have females in the choir. The parish Church of Scotland was down the road where she lived. I would take a chance on that as being where Bertha Simms sang in the choir.

  I wasn't a churchgoer but that did not deter me as I parked my bicycle in the kirkyard and hurried in during the first hymn. The church was only ten years old. I liked the feeling of tranquillity and took the opportunity to pray for Danny that he would be brought safe home to me. If it had been the Catholic church then I would have lit a candle for him.

  From my pew near the choir I observed that five of the songsters were women and decided that Mabel Simms' sister was most likely one of the two younger ones. The service ended, and shaking hands with the minister outside the church, I asked where I could find Miss Simms.

  He pointed me in the right direction and I approached one I had marked down.

  She smiled. 'No, that's Bertha over there.'

  She was in animated conversation with a young couple. Tall and slim, she was in her early twenties, and when she moved away towards the path through the kirkyard I saw that she was lame. One leg was shorter than the other.

  I caught up with her outside the gate and introduced myself by saying I had just visited St Anne's and had been told that Mabel had left. I didn't want to tell a direct lie. Perhaps the chastening effect of having just come out of church made me reluctant to immediately break one of the Ten Commandments - subject of the morning sermon - so I decided to remain as vague as possible.

  Bertha nodded sadly. She accepted my statement without question, much to my relief. ‘I’m sorry, I don't know where Mabel is.' She looked at me curiously. 'I haven't seen you in church before. Are you new to this area?'

  When I told her no, that I lived in Newington, she looked puzzled but covered curiosity with a bright smile.

  'That is a long way to come. Look, I live just across the road, perhaps I can offer you a cup of tea and some refreshment before you go all that way back.'

  I indicated the bicycle by the kirkyard wall.

  'How clever of you. I would love to have one of those,' she added wistfully and I could understand her reasons included help for her lameness.

  She repeated her invitation, which I accepted gratefully. Being invited into the house was an even better outcome than I had hoped from the visit.

  The interior was neat and well cared for, revealing something of the owner's character. There were pretty cushions and an embroidered tablecloth and a refreshing smell of furniture polish on handsome antique tables. As I sat with a cup of tea in my hand I decided to gently confess the truth that I was in the business of tracking down missing persons.

  Thankfully Bertha did not seem shocked in the least, she merely nodded in agreement. 'The headmistress is a dear caring soul, she was good to both of us knowing we had no parents, but she does get quite carried away.'

  She hesitated, staring out of the window, and then said, 'I don't believe Mabel is in any sort of danger. She is very independent, likes to take off on her own and not tell anyone.'

  She shrugged, turned to me again. 'But as it is longer than usual, I suppose the school were right to get anxious.'

  'She didn't come home before she left?'

  'Yes, she did. I was out unfortunately, I do some dressmaking for a lady near by. I saw that she had packed a bag, but she hadn't left a message, which was odd. That was what concerned me.'

  Pausing, she smiled wanly. 'We have to get used to it. It is all part of her nature, she writes poetry, you know, and she needs to be alone. And it's difficult in the school to get a moment to herself. Mabel is a free spirit...'

  As I listened I thought this was strange behaviour even for a free spirit.

  'We inherited this house from an old auntie who left a legacy to pay for our fees at St Anne's. It's a fair distance from the school but Mabel lives in. I can't do very much because of my leg, but I take in sewing and Mabel's salary helps greatly. We don't lack anything.'

  As we supped Bertha's excellent vegetable broth and ate our bread and cheese I was facing the sideboard. There were several photographs of the two sisters but in childhood only. None had any resemblance to the dead woman.

  Bertha followed my gaze and smiled when I said, 'You were pretty little girls. What does Mabel look like now?'

  Giving the photograph a tender glance, she said, 'She's still fair, pretty wavy hair. But not like that thin little girl any longer. She's rather plump now although, because she's tall, she carries it well.'

  I felt a sudden sense of relief. The missing persons' descriptions seemed to rule Mabel out as the woman I had found.

  There was something else worrying me about the free spirit and I asked, 'Tell me, is Mabel in the best of health?'

  The teacup clattered on to the saucer.

  Bertha panicked. 'Why shouldn't she be? Why do you ask that?' she demanded.

  'It is a standard question when someone goes missing,' I replied.

  'If I tell you, promise you won't breathe a word - will you?'

  I promised and she continued, 'Ever since childhood, Mabel has taken fits - epilepsy. She was bad when she was young but for years now they have been very rare. So rare in fact that we tend to forget about them. Headmistress knows, of course, but she loves Mabel and is very sympathetic, knows how to deal with any attacks. Naturally, she is very discreet. It wouldn't do for any of her girls to see her.' She sighed. 'Two years now, since the last time. We all hoped she had outgrown it.'

  I took my departure, promised to keep on with my investigation and let her know immediately. If only Mabel had been dark and thin and slight then someone who was subject to epileptic fits could well have accounted for the 'dead woman' I had found and for Jack's explanation regarding her subsequent disappearance.

  The visit had been disappointing in its results but I was glad that the tragedy I had encountered had not overtaken Bertha Simms and her missing sister.

  Nancy arrived at six thirty that evening. She had already given the children their supper and prepared them for bed.

  'I left them in their nightclothes,' she added with a happy sigh, 'sitting up in bed like a couple of angels waiting for their aunt and uncle to come and read them a story.' She sighed. 'I am so lucky. I must be one of the few nannies in Newington, in Edinburgh city - or anywhere else in the country for that matter - to be free of duties from early evening until next morning.'

  I suspected that if Lady Carthew returned to health and was able to accept social invitations, such as visits to the theatre and supper with friends, or failing that, if she was removed by some more permanent and melancholy event before Gerald Carthew's return, then Nancy's lifestyle would also be transformed to one more resembling drudgery.

  As we walked towards the theatre, the subject immediately turned to Desmond. Nancy was plainly most anxious that I should like Desmond.

  Our timing was very good. We had just entered by the stage door to the last strains of 'A policeman's lot is not a happy one.'

  'That's Desmond singing,' she said proudly.

  I had to agree that he had a most agreeable voice, well above the amateur range. He didn't see us at first, as he was in earnest conversation with a younger man also in constable's uniform.

  We hovered near but failed to attract his attention.

  Nancy sighed. 'Wait in here. Rose.' She led the way into a side room temporarily empty but used for refreshments, as evidenced by the imposing presence of a huge tea urn and a large plate of highly suspect rock-cakes.

  'I'll tell Desmond you're here and I'll leave you to it, Rose. I'm sure he'll want to talk to you alone and I have to see the wardrobe girl about my alterations.'

  When Desmond walked in through the door in costume, straight off stage, it gave me a considerable jolt. At first glance he looked exactly like PC Smith, cape, helmet, moustache and all.


  His smiling greeting, his handshake, hardly registered.

  Shocked into realization, with a sickening jolt I guessed that I had the explanation of my encounter with the bogus PC Smith.

  And the reason for the cabbie's non-appearance.

  The 'constable' had murdered him too!

  My thoughts were so confused and terrifying that I had great difficulty in acknowledging Desmond's polite platitudes. As he smiled engagingly, awaiting my answer to some point he had just made, I struggled to regain my composure and bleated a response which I hoped was adequate.

  I must have succeeded since he nodded enthusiastically.

  Desperately I tried to concentrate.

  He had stagey good looks and was not at all the type of man I would ever find irresistible, but I could imagine the young women in the chorus swooning over him, hanging upon his every smile.

  My mind still with 'PC Smith', I asked him about uniforms. Had any gone missing?

  He was clearly taken aback by this sudden interruption and said he hadn't the foggiest notion. 'They aren't under lock and key, of course, so it could happen.'

  Aha, that was significant. Very, I thought. Only half listening to his concern about the missing Nora - he was eager and willing to spread the whole dreary domestic story before me - I soon gathered theirs was not a happy marriage and had not been so for a long time. Her 'wee holiday' with her sister was her idea to ease the strain.

  He wished he could get a divorce, but Nora was a Roman Catholic, so both their lives were to be ruined, staying together.

  I took all the details, was promised a photograph, sister Nellie's address and so forth. As he left, he stood up, regarded me solemnly and said, 'There's one thing more you might as well know, Mrs McQuinn. If I were free I would ask your friend Nancy to be my wife. I love her,' he added simply.

  Impressed by his sincerity and honesty, I still had a lot to think about. Nancy came back into the room and shyly touched his hand.

  As I left, my thoughts returned again and again to the bogus constable and the convenience of police uniforms in the unlocked costume cupboard.