Quest for a Killer (18 page)

I went downstairs quietly, tiptoed into the kitchen.

Danny’s head jerked round.

‘I’m awake.’ And yawning. ‘I needed that sleep, Rose.’

‘I’ve made up a bed for you.’ And I told him about the secret room.

I expected him to be intrigued, but I could see that he was too tired to ask all the questions that its strange history involved.

‘Where do you sleep, then?’

‘Upstairs, just along the corridor.’

He said nothing, avoiding my eyes. I felt suddenly embarrassed. It had never occurred to me that this Danny, who wasn’t at all like the husband I had lived with for those ten years of married life in Arizona, would expect me to sleep with him.

There were a lot of things that needed to be resolved before I would be able to make that decision. First and most important, I needed to hear his story of the events that had led him back to Edinburgh as a hunted man, a criminal.

My first wild hopes fled when he said, ‘The police – your policeman, I expect, as well – are all out looking for me. I killed that poor guy in the bank. I didn’t mean to, it was an instinctive reaction born of many years with Pinkerton’s where we learnt in moments of danger to act first and think afterwards. And that was what happened. I just hit him too hard.’

‘What were you doing there in the first place, robbing a bank?’

He shook his head. ‘I have to go back to the beginning for that.’

‘Before you do. Round about the same time as you arrived with the circus, just streets away from the bank, two girls who were friends committed suicide, hanged themselves in adjoining flats of the same tenement. At least that’s what the police thought originally. A weird coincidence, but the circumstances were so bizarre that it now seems possible that they were murdered.’

‘Oh, I heard about that at the circus. A suicide pact.’ Pausing, he looked at me. ‘Do they think I was responsible for that too?’ he whispered.

I didn’t answer and he said, ‘Rose, now what would I be doing killing a couple of girls I’ve never met?’

I knew that was true, for the secret of whoever was responsible for their deaths lay with Will Sanders, Belle’s grandfather.

‘What about Felix Miles Rice?’ I asked.

He looked bewildered, repeated the name. ‘Isn’t he the philanthropist I’ve read about – saw in a newspaper that he was in hospital with a heart attack and just died?’

‘That’s the man, Danny. Only there was a suspicion that it was no heart attack, that it was attempted murder. There was a police guard on his ward and when he showed signs of recovery someone came in and smothered him.’

I paused, watching his expression as I added, ‘And the suspicion is that his attacker was Sam Wild.’

He stared at me. ‘What are you trying to say, Rose? I don’t know the man, never heard of him until what I read in the newspaper. Why on earth should I want to kill him?’

‘Did you ever meet a man called Hodge?’

‘Hodge?’ he repeated. ‘Not that I know of. Who’s he?’

‘He was valet to Miles Rice. And apparently he committed suicide by walking into the loch down the road here at Duddingston, just days after his master was admitted to hospital.’

Danny frowned. ‘And why on earth should he do such a thing?’ He frowned. ‘Unless he was responsible and his guilt drove him to it.’

‘That’s very unlikely. I talked to him and I was pretty sure he hadn’t told the police everything about Miles Rice’s mysterious visitor that afternoon. I thought he was protecting someone and now I’m pretty sure it was murder. What’s more, I think I have proof…’

And I told him the cabbie’s tale about the two drunks.

He whistled. ‘Three suicides and a murder, Rose. Deep waters you’ve got yourself involved in.’ And shaking his head. ‘None of them anything to do with
me, I assure you. My only crime in Edinburgh is the accidental death of that poor guy in the bank at Newington.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘I was desperate for money. I’d joined the circus in Glasgow but was told I wouldn’t be paid until they had seen me in performance. That’s the rule. I needed to find a place to stay, food to eat, and I had a few dollars I’d brought with me. All I wanted was to exchange them… Then I saw this bank.’

He shrugged. ‘The guy behind the counter refused to give me any money for them. Very self-important, officious and suspicious, probably never seen American dollars before, said I was a stranger and how did he know they weren’t forgeries. We argued. He lost his temper, came round and tried to throw me out. He grabbed hold of me. That was it. I hit him, helped myself to a few pounds, the rough equivalent of the dollars, and feeling furious, left in a hurry.’

There was a pause and I asked, ‘What brought you back to Scotland?’

‘To go back to the beginning. When we lost trace of each other I had a bad time. I’ll spare you the details. On a secret mission for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, captured by renegades…tortured…’ He looked away, his expression not wanting to remember. ‘They have their own vile ways of dealing with hated white eyes. It’s a long story, but when I escaped and got back to Pinkerton’s, the time we agreed you should wait if I disappeared had long since elapsed.

‘I still hoped you might be in Phoenix. I tracked you
down as far as the Apache reservation to be told that you were dead. Died in a fever outbreak. They even gave me the gold locket you used to wear. It had my photograph and one of your sister in it.’

I remembered that locket, lost or stolen so long ago.

‘So you never knew about our baby,’ I said.

‘Baby? What baby?’

‘Daniel, our son.’ The tears welled again as they always did.

‘Your son, Danny, born six months after you disappeared. We were attacked by those renegades. We took refuge in the reservation and there was a fever outbreak. But whoever told you got it wrong, it was our son who died, not me. I buried him out there in the desert. Thought you were dead too, so I came back to Edinburgh as we had agreed, if you ever disappeared without trace.’

‘A son,’ Danny whispered. ‘We had a son after all those years.’ There were tears in his eyes too when he looked at me, and I knew he was remembering all the disappointments, the pregnancies that came to nothing.

He took my hand, held it tight. ‘Never mind, my darlin’. We are together again. We can have more babies.’

And even as he said the words, just looking at this new Danny who had come into my life again, I knew it would never happen. It was just part of that other dream.

There would be no marriage renewed, no babies. The future was a dark void, promising nothing but sorrow. When I made no reassuring response, perhaps
Danny realised it too. There’s an old Scots proverb: ‘What cannot be changed must be endured.’ And it looked as if we had been made for that, I thought bitterly as Danny sighed and continued his tale of disaster.

‘I’d had more than enough. I was finished with the Indian Bureau. The thought of staying in Arizona but imagining you dead somewhere out there in the desert became unbearable. So I got Pinkerton’s to transfer me to their New York office. All went well; then, last year, I got into an argument with one of my colleagues, a detective I was working with.’

Pausing, he added slowly, his eyes sad, remembering. ‘A fight over a girl, Rose. Someone I had become friendly with.’

For friendly, I read by his expression ‘in love with’. Who was I to complain? I had believed he was dead when I took up with Jack Macmerry.

He sighed. ‘She was beautiful, a showgirl. And he was torturing her trying to get information about the gangster we were looking for.

‘I shot him, killed him and then I knew my time with Pinkerton’s was over. I had to leave and quickly, so I stowed away on the first boat I saw weighing anchor, heading for the River Clyde. When we landed it was to discover that news of Sam Wild, the alias Pinkerton’s had given me for New York, had reached the UK. I was wanted for murder.

‘By a mere chance I met up with Hengel’s, and what better disguise for a wanted man than being a clown in the circus? Especially as you know there was nothing I
couldn’t do with horses. Rodeos, trick-riding, came as natural as breathing.’

As he spoke I remembered, as I should have done long since, a clue I had missed, that Danny McQuinn was a superb horseman.

‘They were coming to Edinburgh. Edinburgh – what memories of the past: of you and Emily as youngsters, of being your father’s sergeant.’ Pausing, he smiled, shook his head. ‘You were always determined to marry me; I warned you, my poor darlin’ Rose, you got a bad bargain there.’

I took his hand and held it. ‘No, I got what I asked for – ten years of happiness with the man I loved, the only man I had ever loved from being twelve years old, Danny. That was a long time to be faithful to a dream.’

He nodded. ‘As you say, as you say. When I arrived here with the circus, I had no idea you were alive, much less living a mile down the road. Then a strange thing happened. I knew no one, I was totally among strangers and the sadness of that, of reliving those past years, bothered me. So I decided to look up the nuns at the convent, see if any of them who brought me up were still around.

‘It would be great to talk to them. I didn’t want to be apprehended by a policeman, just in case word of Sam Wild had reached Edinburgh, so I approached by the back road I remembered as a lad.’

He paused, staring at me. ‘And there, by the grace of God, was this girl – you – at least I thought it was you. I couldn’t believe it. The years hadn’t changed
you. I seized her hands, talked to her, called her Rose, asked, “Is it you?” She went white as a sheet, shaking, absolutely terrified. I thought she was going to faint. She obviously hadn’t listened to a word—’

‘She couldn’t, Danny. She’s a deaf mute. One of the nuns, Sister Clare, told me about this wild man who scared the young novices working in the vegetable garden. Her name is Marie Ann.’

‘So you’ve met her.’ He gave me a quizzical look. ‘Haven’t you noticed that she is the spitting image of you at her age? Of course, I suddenly realised, fool that I was, that my Rose was past thirty and must have changed quite a lot from the girl who followed me to America, and now there was going to be trouble. She suddenly pulled away from me and rushed inside.’

Again he shook his head. ‘Trying to explain was beyond me. I fled. Then I thought I saw you sitting in the front seats at the circus. I was sure it was you this time, an older Rose. After the performance there you were again, this time talking to a policeman. As I guessed they might be looking for Sam Wild for the bank robbery, I didn’t linger. I was confused. I had thought for years that you were dead, and now, I still couldn’t be sure, couldn’t believe my eyes…’

He sighed and touched the scar down the left side of his face.

‘Where did you get that?’

‘A bullet. It narrowly missed my brain, in one of our gangside encounters. I’m fine, I’ve got used to it, but my vision isn’t as great as it used to be, as I discovered
when I was part of Miss Adela’s equestrienne act. No more circuses for me.’

We were both silent, sitting there in the firelight, surrounded by peace and safety. At least for the next hour or two.

I closed my eyes. Danny back. Wasn’t this the miracle I had been praying for? My miracle answered, one moment out of time when I wished the world would stop turning and that we could stay like this for ever.

‘What do we do now?’ he asked.

He looked so ill, even the firelight couldn’t change that. ‘You have some ideas?’ he asked hopefully.

‘I’ll answer that in the morning. Meanwhile we get you off to bed. It’s a bit spartan,’ I added apologetically.

He nodded, rose to his feet, slowly, almost painfully. Like an old man. ‘Can’t be worse than the floor in that hostel for down-and-outs. Staying with the clowns was too dangerous.’

‘Sleep well, my darling,’ I whispered, kissing that poor ruined face goodnight. Grateful that he didn’t take me in his arms, for I didn’t think I could have coped with the emotions that would arouse.

I slept badly, dozing, to suddenly awake thinking I had dreamt a dreadful nightmare, and in the next moment, knowing that it was real: that Danny McQuinn had returned, wanted by the police as a dangerous criminal, and was sleeping on the other side of the wall just a few yards away.

Once dawn broke over the hill, I abandoned any further attempts to sleep and began weaving elaborate plans, fantastic ideas of how he could escape from Edinburgh, none of which, I knew, would seem feasible reviewed in the cold light of morning.

The result of all this nocturnal planning was that when I finally fell asleep it was to be awakened by a hammering on the door.

Nine o’clock. I had overslept and the caller could only be Jack Macmerry, come for breakfast as usual.

Groaning, I flung on a robe and rushed downstairs, opened the front door.

‘Sorry, you told me to keep the back door locked.’

‘Of course I did, but I thought you would have been
up and about by this hour,’ he said with a disapproving look at my dishevelled state, curls wild and disordered as if I had been giving hospitality to nesting birds.

I listened. There was no sound from upstairs. Thankfully Danny would remain out of sight until this visitor departed. Except, alas, that Jack was no visitor but a lodger and I was glad indeed that there had been no extra key to the Tower, or it would have been even more difficult to keep him from arriving without warning.

That had been one of my dozing nightmares. How on earth was I to keep Danny and Jack from meeting? Knowing human nature, however carefully one planned, there was bound to be a slip-up somewhere. The tenuous state of Danny’s residence in the Tower certainly could not be maintained for an indefinite period.

I opened the kitchen door, let Thane out and, returning, prepared breakfast, conscious that Jack was watching me with a rather puzzled expression.

‘What’s wrong, Rose? You’re all flustered. Something bothering you?’

I turned rapidly from the frying pan. ‘Of course not, why should there be?’

‘I just wondered. You seem more hassled than usual.’

‘It’s just oversleeping. Always upsets my day.’

Jack considered that for a moment; then, helping himself to a cup of tea, ‘Well, what was the concert like? Did you enjoy it?’

‘Concert?’ I had forgotten all about the concert. No point in lying, he would soon find out.

‘I didn’t go.’

‘But we had tickets. I’d reserved them – what a waste.’ He sounded annoyed, and no wonder.

‘I didn’t want to go on my own. It’s quite a distance—’

‘You could have taken your bicycle, that’s your usual means of transport,’ he reminded me sharply.

‘Not to a concert, Jack. The clothes I wear would hardly be appropriate.’

‘Who cares about that, for heaven’s sake? No one would have noticed…’

‘In Edinburgh – at a Beethoven concert? As you know, most of the audience would be in evening dress, arriving in carriages,’ I said angrily.

‘You could have always asked your friend Elma to accompany you.’

‘Hardly, at such short notice,’ I said.

The last thing I wanted was an argument so I shrugged it aside. ‘I just didn’t feel like making the effort. However, something happened yesterday that will interest you…’ And I told him about the cabbie and the two drunks, one of whom I suspected was Hodge, already dead.

He wasn’t as excited by this story as I hoped.

‘It could be true, if Hodge was murdered. But how are you going to prove it?’ When I didn’t answer, he said wearily, ‘This is more of your circumstantial evidence. Hard evidence is what we need, without it we can prove nothing. It was dark and your cabbie could possibly have been taking two genuine drunks home.’

I was convinced my theory was right but I knew
Jack would never be convinced. Disappointed by his reaction but without further comment, I asked. ‘What was your evening like?’

‘Oh, the usual dull routine stuff, we had to go down and talk to someone in Peebles. However, when I was in the vicinity of home, I decided to go the extra miles and see the folks.’

He paused. ‘They were asking after you, Rose.’

I hadn’t seen his parents since the time of our wedding that never was, two years ago.

‘I hadn’t seen my father since he came through to Glasgow for the funeral.’ I realised Jack meant his late wife’s funeral.

‘Is your mother pleased at having a new granddaughter?’

I realised that was a mistake as he visibly winced. ‘She didn’t say much about that. She’s hardly likely to see her much. Glasgow’s a fair distance away and Ma doesn’t care for travelling.’ Another pause. ‘She was very sorry about us, always fond of you, Rose.’

I was silent. There was nothing I could think of as a suitable reply.

He helped me clear the table. ‘It’s their golden wedding this Friday. They both said they hoped you’d come with me.’

I put the plates into the sink. ‘Jack, they’re a sweet couple and I’m fond of them, but don’t you see it wouldn’t be fair?’

‘I don’t know what you mean – ‘wouldn’t be fair’.’

‘Well, think about it. If I appear in their lives again, they’ll be hoping that means we’re back together and
I couldn’t bear to give them false hopes, disappoint them—’

‘You can only bear to disappoint me,’ he interrupted with a bitter smile.

‘Oh please, Jack. Let’s not go into all that again, I beg of you.’

I could see that he certainly wasn’t going to make it easy for me to add that I wanted him to move out.

He shuffled his feet a bit and said, ‘Well, I do have one interesting piece of information. Knowing your interest in Sam Wild.’

I almost jumped when he said the words.

‘What…what interest would that be?’

‘Come now, Rose. Joey the Clown and all that stuff. Well, here’s something for the record. You won’t have forgotten all your theories about the bank robbery?’ When I shook my head, he went on, ‘We have at last received the results of the autopsy on the bank clerk.’ He shook his head. ‘They’ve certainly taken their time about it, but seems that the poor chap had a congenital heart defect. And that’s what really killed him. He was alone in the bank, the junior clerk had gone across the road to the baker’s shop. When he came back and saw the back of a man running away down the street, and found his colleague dead, he assumed that he had been murdered. And that went into his statement. But there were no marks of intent to kill, nothing that could be described as a death blow or any real violence apart from a bruise on his jaw.

‘I’ve always had my doubts, especially as there were only a few pounds taken from the drawer behind
the counter and some dollar bills scattered about. An attempted robbery, serious enough for an arrest, but that’s one murder we can write off the slate.’

I could have told him what really happened but had to remain silent. I hoped the man’s widow had his life insured. Jack agreed and I felt like laughing out loud, so relieved that Danny wasn’t a murderer, at least not on this side of the Atlantic.

A great relief but Jack continued that he would still be guilty of attempted robbery and assault instead. Where was the evidence, the proof? Had the other assistant witnessed that he wanted to exchange dollar bills into pounds sterling and that the ensuing argument led to an exchange of blows, there would have been evidence, but he hadn’t.

That was bad enough. But there was still the Pinkerton’s man in New York.

And Danny McQuinn, by his own admission, was his killer.