Murder at Midnight (11 page)

“Did they wear night-vision goggles when they took aim at poor Ken?” Rex asked facetiously. “And if they went to the trouble of walking down the trail to avoid detection, why park their van at the top of the hill where anyone in a passing vehicle could see it?”

“You’d be surprised how daft some of these criminals are. That’s usually how we manage to catch ’em.”

“I don’t think our killer is daft, somehow,” Rex contended. “How many criminals have you come across who are familiar with curare and can shoot a dart with deadly accuracy?”

“Could be one of them tribesmen you mentioned,” Dalgerry suggested. “All sorts are flooding into the United Kingdom since we opened our borders.”

“Did the piece of clothing you found suggest a person from the Amazonian rainforests?” Rex asked with stark sarcasm. “They must find our climate a wee bit cold for their tastes.”

“We found tufts of purple and white wool, but not of sufficient size to distinguish a pattern.”

“Not the most clandestine of colours,” Rex remarked. However, this information gave him pause. The colours for Inverness College were purple and white, he recalled from the brochure Flora had sent him with her joyful letter informing him of her admission to study art. “I see,” he confined himself to saying. “I don’t remember any of my guests wearing a wool garment in those colours.”

“I suspect it was from a scarf or a bonnet, judging from the height you asked aboot.” Dalgerry gave him a knowing wink. “And home knit, by the looks of it, not manufactured.”

“It could have been the trailing end of a scarf, so it doesn’t give an accurate height of the individual, does it? Unless it was from a bonnet.”

“No,” the chief inspector agreed. “Also it was a wee bit grubby. No telling yet how long it was there or if it simply had not been washed in a while.”

“Any prints nearby?”

Dalgerry blew out a sigh. “Unfortunately not. Our perp covered his tracks, like I said.”

“Or else the ‘evidence’ pre-dates the murders sufficiently for time to have erased any tell-tale signs. Or the wool blew into the tree in the gale.”

The chief inspector shook his head vehemently. “It was well snagged on an overhanging branch. It caught, it was not blown there.”

Rex was less convinced. The winds had been strong of late. “I haven’t taken that walk since, let me think … must be late summer. Any other evidence?” Rex asked, trying to contain his impatience. Tire tracks on the road and a torn piece of knitted clothing two hundred feet from his house were not a lot to go on. “Anything inside the house?”

“Too many people and prints. It may take a while for the lab to get back to us with anything useful. But I did mean to ask you … Did you burn anything other than wood in your fireplace?”

“Just some newspaper earlier in the evening to get the fire going. Why?”

“We found a charred scroll of paper buried in the ash. Again, the lab will be able to tell us more.”

“Ah,” Rex said, remembering. “We were playing a game by the
fire, writing down our New Year resolutions. Perhaps someone wrote something and then changed their mind, and later threw the paper in the fire.”

“We found the jar containing the resolutions on the shelf above your drinks cabinet. Did everyone participate?”

“Aye, myself included. Vanessa Weaver wrote her husband’s for him, as I recall. There should be fifteen names and one small piece of notepaper left over on the table, unless it was disposed of.”

“There are fifteen notes in the jar, and one piece of paper missing, then. As you say, someone might have thrown their first try into the fire. But it might not be notepaper we found. The burnt fragment was stuck to some shiny red streamers.”

Rex scratched at his beard. “I wonder why someone threw decorations in the fire?”

“Too much booze, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“What calls other than Drew Harper’s to the States were made?” Rex asked, viewing the upside down phone records Dalgerry had deposited on the table.

The chief inspector referred to the sheet again. “Flora Allerdice called home on her phone in the wee hours after the murders were
discovered. John Dunbar also called home. He said he still lived with
his parents most of the time. That’s all the calls since eight, when you said the guests started arriving. So it doesn’t look as though someone called a hit man to give him the all-clear. Any calls made on your phone line before the power went oot?”

“Not to my knowledge. At least, not during the time you’re interested in.” In the afternoon, Rex had called his mother in Edinburgh from his landline to wish her happy new year. She didn’t like to travel more than an hour in a car at a time, and had only visited the lodge on one occasion, when Rex had punctuated the trip with lunch. Helen had called her sisters early in the evening from her cell phone, and Julie her divorced dad from hers.

“Do you mind if I ask my guests a few questions before you dismiss them? I’d like to address the paper in the fireplace.”

“Fine, but don’t mention the nature of the clothing we found. Neither the colour nor the fact it was wool.”

“I won’t, if it’s information you wish to save for later,” Rex assured him. He would find his own way around that obstacle.

“Let me know if you come up with anything. I need to check on the lads, and DS Milner is looking into a few things that might be of interest.” Dalgerry looked smug, and said no more.

Rex made toward the library to see what he could find out from the guests. Just as he was reaching for the door handle, the chief inspector called him back and asked him to wait a few moments while Milner, who had reappeared, reported his findings.

“Well, I’ll be …,” Dalgerry uttered after a brief conference with the detective. He pivoted toward Rex with a jubilant expression. “Mr. Graves,” he said, “it appears you have an imposter under your roof.”

12
a dark horse

Dalgerry told Rex he
would make the announcement in front of the guests. During questioning, none had professed to know of any aliases used by any of their fellow guests. Nor, said Dalgerry, did they admit to knowing anything that could conclusively lead them to believe anyone had a motive for killing the Frasers.

Rex took his place on the edge of his desk and waited for the chief inspector to make his revelation, though there was only one logical answer in his own mind as to the identity of the imposter.

“Won’t keep you much longer,” the inspector informed the exhausted guests seated around the library. “And I have some news that may wake you up.”

Murmurs of interest arose from the occupied chairs. Vanessa Weaver rubbed her eyes as though she had been asleep. Her husband’s rhythmic raucous breathing was audible from where Rex sat gauging the guests’ reactions. Helen stretched and yawned, and glanced with raised eyebrows at Rex, who shrugged. He would see if his supposition was correct.

A heavy-lidded Drew roused Julie, who flung back her head and then smoothed her hair back from her forehead. Zoe whispered something to John behind a cupped hand. Alistair, disengaged from the case since the police arrived, tilted his chair back on its hind legs and rocked to and fro, arms dangling by his side. They stared expectantly at Dalgerry, all of them pale and punch drunk from lack of sleep. Detective Sergeant Milner returned Drew’s shoes with polite thanks and positioned himself at the library door, a human barricade, while Dalgerry spoke.

“It appears we have among us a person who came posing as a stranger to the Frasers for reasons that will no doubt be made clear in due course.”

Señora Delacruz rose steadily from her chair in her black garb and amber beads, and said, “No doubt you are referring to me.”

“Let me introduce Maighread Rose Fraser,” Dalgerry announced with a grandiose gesture. “New claimant to Gleneagle Castle.”

Rex had suspected as much, and no one else showed undue surprise. She was the likeliest imposter. But why had she kept her identity secret? There was one obvious reason.

“The aunt of a deceased cousin of Catriona Fraser’s and cousin twice removed from Ken Fraser. Presumed dead.”

“If anyone presumed me dead, that is hardly my fault,” she declared. “And there is nothing illegal about my being here. It’s not as though I came in disguise or outright lied. My only sin, as perceived by Clan Fraser of Red Dougal, was to marry outside the family and to marry a foreigner at that.”

Everyone awake in the room watched her, saying nothing and waiting.

“Twenty-three years ago I fell in love with a young artist by the name of Carlos Delacruz and, knowing my family would never accept him, we eloped to Venezuela. His family owned a coffee plantation near the Columbian border, and when he inherited the estate he proved an able businessman, and La Finca Delacruz flourished. Upon his death, I returned to Scotland, leaving the plantation in the capable hands of our manager. I knew there were only two living Frasers in our clan aside from myself, and that they had married and legitimately acquired Gleneagle Castle. I relinquished any interest I may have had many years ago when I left the Highlands. I wanted nothing at all to do with that accursed castle. But I wanted to meet the Frasers, my only surviving Scottish kin, without revealing my identity, it is true. What good would it have done to rehash the past? I was forgotten. I did not want them to think I was staking a claim to the castle and its gold. And I am not now.”

“So why did you wish to meet them?” the chief inspector demanded.

“I was feeling nostalgic, I suppose, and perhaps a little unhinged by my husband’s death. Carlos and I had a wonderful marriage, and I embraced my new family and adopted country with open arms. I changed my Gaelic name from Margaret to Margarita and took my husband’s surname upon our marriage, as was natural. I never tried to hide, and no one in Scotland made a serious attempt to find me—obviously. Besides which, I was of legal age at the time.”

Rex listened to the flow of flawless English. Just now and then was he able to detect a Scottish pronunciation or inflection, but twenty-three years of speaking Spanish seemed to have rid her diction of a distinct accent.

“I am a wealthy woman in my own right,” she now shot at the chief inspector. “I have no need of a Scottish fortune. And therefore no need to murder my kin.”

“That’s as may be,” Dalgerry retorted. “The fact remains you were here under false pretences and never divulged your true identity to anyone—except perhaps the professor?”

“I did not betray you, Margarita,” Cleverly said solemnly.

Rex switched his attention to the professor. It made sense that he would know who she was. Had he facilitated this arm’s length meeting with her relatives?

“Professor Cleverly was sworn to secrecy,” Margarita replied. “I wrote to him because I knew of his interest in Scottish genealogy, and
asked him to look into my dying family tree and find out what he could. I have a daughter, Carlotta, and felt it was right she should know about her Scottish ancestry. I decided to revisit my first home. That’s when I learnt the castle had been restored to the family. However, I did not hear about the gold until last night. I only knew that Humphrey had already been in touch with Ken and Catriona, having discovered some old documents that referred to one of our ancestors, and that he might be able to arrange an anonymous meeting here. Mr. Graves, our kind host, was organizing a Hogmanay party and had invited his new neighbours, the Frasers.”

Rex felt slightly used. Cleverly had led him to believe Margarita was an old friend, and perhaps something more. He had been aware of an aura of mystery surrounding the lady and the exact nature of
her relationship with the professor, but had assumed it to be out of
a sense of delicacy, and not subterfuge. The professor did not meet his gaze.

“What you would have us believe is that you had no reason to murder your kin.”

“I came to see them alive and not dead, Chief Inspector.” Margarita stood straight and regal in her black stilettoes and did not flinch.

“A whopper of a coincidence,” he derided. “And you were not forthcoming with Detective Sergeant Milner. It was largely due to his diligence that we discovered your connection to your late relations.” He scowled at her. “That will be all for now.”

“Might we confer briefly?” Rex asked the chief inspector.

Dalgerry agreed. Margarita re-seated herself with dignity, head held high upon her slender neck. Dalgerry and Rex exited past Milner and entered the hall where they could speak in private.

“Did you discover anything else concerning that lady?” Rex asked.

“Not yet. I too have an aunt Maighread,” the chief inspector told him. “I knew it was Gaelic for Margaret. You mentioned the name of Catriona Fraser’s cousin’s aunt in your extremely thorough statement. I thought Margarita Delacruz might be the right age for an aunt too. Since we had her date of birth, middle name, and where she was born, it was a simple matter for Milner to find her in the public records under Maighread Rose Fraser, born in Inverness. She said her husband died of a stroke. I wonder.” Dalgerry bit his skewed lip, no doubt pondering the possibility of a poison dart in the man’s bloodstream.

“I still don’t think she could have murdered Ken Fraser, if Ace Weaver’s memory is sound,” Rex said.

“As sound perhaps as the other guests’. We have only a vague and conflicting timeline. After the lights went oot, most of the guests were at sixes and sevens. They weren’t paying much attention to anyone’s movements.”

Dalgerry flipped back the pages of his notepad. “You, Alistair and John went to look for Ken Fraser, and Drew Harper stayed indoors to look downstairs. Why did he not go with the rest of you?”

“He would have, I expect, but he wanted to check downstairs first. He wasn’t wearing appropriate shoes for trudging around in the ice. And then, of course, he found Ken in the broom cupboard.”

“Of course,” Dalgerry repeated meaningfully.

It was clear he did not like the house agent, perhaps because Drew drove a more expensive car and didn’t keep such arduous hours as the chief inspector; or simply because Drew had shown a disrespectful attitude toward him. However, Rex had faith that Dalgerry possessed enough experience and maturity not to let petty emotions blind him to the facts of the case.

“You can tell your guests they can leave, but I’ll want to talk to some of them again tomorrow, that is, later today.”

_____

Rex relayed the inspector’s words to his guests, but asked first if any of them had thrown anything into the fire. They shook their heads as they rose from their seats and prepared to leave.

“Anyone who wishes to sleep over is most welcome,” he added apologetically.

It appeared most of them just wanted to get out of Gleneagle Lodge, and Rex could not blame them.

“My mum’s expecting me,” Flora said.

Rex recalled Dalgerry informing him that Flora had made a call to the Loch Lochy Hotel. Hamish and Shona would be aware of the new murders at the lodge.

He escorted the departing guests into the hall and helped Flora on with her coat. “That’s a fine shawl,” he complimented. “It’s mohair, isn’t it? Did you knit it yourself ?”

“I did.”

“Do you knit a lot?”

“I suppose.”

“Just for yourself ?”

“And for Donnie. I knitted a scarf for Jason but he lost it.”

“Was it this lovely blue too?”

Flora gave him a befuddled look. “No. Purple and white.”

“That was careless of him. My son was always losing stuff. It’s their age. It used to drive me bonkers.”

Flora smiled wanly and thanked him again for his hospitality.

“Och, nonsense. Hogmanay was a sad event this year.”

“It started oot fun,” Flora consoled him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m especially sorry because you knew the Frasers.”

She looked startled. “What do you mean?” she faltered.

“Well, you met them before, at your parents’ hotel. I was having dinner there.”

“I didn’t speak to them much then. Mum was so thrilled she was entertaining royalty,” Flora said with irony. “You know how she is. She was trying too hard to make them feel welcome. So I tried to keep oot of their way this time.”

No doubt Shona had thought having the castle’s owners as regulars at the Loch Lochy Hotel would enhance its reputation.

“I liked them though,” Flora hastened to add. “They weren’t pretentious or anything.”

Rex kissed her on the cheek and asked her to give his and Helen’s regards to her parents, knowing they would be more than displeased with him for subjecting their daughter to danger once more.

“Jason,” he addressed the approaching student, who had been talking to John and Alistair down the hall. “Did you mention your gold coin to the chief inspector?”

“Didn’t have much choice, did I?” Jason groused. “Drew would have said something aboot it, I’m sure.” He punctuated his statement by defiantly tooting with all his breath on a blowout, looking around to see where the house agent might be, but he was nowhere in sight. Rex thought he might still be in the library saying goodbye to Julie.

“I was asked to produce the coin.” Jason looked crestfallen.

“Perhaps you’ll get it back,” Rex said.

“Fat chance.”

Rex opened the front door and received a blast of cold air in his face. The porch light made the ice glisten on the path and he cautioned everyone to watch their step and drive carefully.

It transpired that Drew was dropping Margarita off at her hotel on his way home while Humphrey drove back to Edinburgh. Drew helped her on with her mink wrap and she breezed past Rex with the curtest of thank-you’s. The house agent hurriedly shook his hand and followed her out the door, offering his arm to steady her in her high heels.

“Seems Drew likes rich, older women,” Julie said, stomping her way up the stairs. “Her face looks tight, like she’s had surgery.”

“He’s just being polite,” Helen countered, clearly at the end of her patience with her friend. “Professor Cleverly has a long drive home and her hotel is on Drew’s way.”

“How convenient,” Julie said snidely.

Rex sighed to himself. He had warned his fiancée not to interfere in Julie’s love life, but it was in her nature to wish as much happiness on her friends as she had found for herself. Now look how it had ended! Like a damp firework that had spluttered and fizzled …

When all the guests who were departing had gone, he left Helen to finish making arrangements for the Weavers and went to find the chief inspector. Dalgerry was perusing his notepad in the kitchen and had taken off his coat, which lay draped over the back of a chair. Rex wondered how long he intended to stay and if he should offer more tea.

“May I conduct an experiment before you confiscate the rest of the items?” he asked.

“We are not appropriating anything further, Mr. Graves. We took Jason Short’s penknife, the eye drops found in Ken Fraser’s trench coat, his pipe, the contents of the ashtrays, and the Delacruz woman’s cigarette holder, among other items. What is it you need?”

Rex indicated an unopened bag of fringed blowouts that had been brought in from the living room and left on the pine table. Every loose item of interest would have been bagged and removed for further examination. “I need one of those blow things that roll oot paper.”

“Be my guest. Mind if I put the kettle on?”

“
Go ahead. I was going to offer you tea.” Rex tore apart the trans
parent bag of silver-striped blowouts in red, green, gold, and black,
with corollas of matching metallic fringes. He pulled out a red
blowout.

Dalgerry wandered over to his side after putting the kettle on the stove. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

Rex blew on the cardboard tube before answering. It made a raspy sound as the harlequin-patterned paper unfurled a tongue about a foot long. “They are made with a tube, are they not? It’s so obvious I missed it at first.” He held it out to show the chief inspector. “They have a plastic mouthpiece you blow through and which fills the paper with air,
quod erat demonstrandum
.”