Quest for a Killer (7 page)

Thankfully sighting home and breathing in the refreshing air of Arthur’s Seat, almost guiltily aware of the vast empty rooms in Solomon’s Tower – that great hall, and others upstairs that I seldom set foot in – I was aware of a carriage rushing up the hill.

It reached me at the gate and the Rice coachman leapt down. ‘Mrs McQuinn, a message from madam.’ He thrust a note into my hand:

‘Dearest Rose, Come at once. Something terrible has happened.’

This had to be serious; I knew that by the anguished expression on the coachman’s usually stolid countenance as he silently opened the carriage door for me.

‘What has happened?’ I asked. He merely shook his head and set the horses off at a cracking pace back in the direction of Rice Villa.

With not the slightest idea what Elma’s summons involved, the prospect of this urgent visit to her home for the first time gave little time for admiration of the handsome surroundings.

A tear-stained maid opened the door and Elma, attired in black, rushed down the stairs to greet me.

She took my hands, wringing them painfully, almost speechless as she gasped out the terrible story.

While we were having tea with Alice and shopping together in Edinburgh, Felix had taken a heart attack and collapsed in his study, to be found by his valet bringing in his afternoon tea.

The circumstances were dreadful.

She led me into the parlour, weeping. ‘Oh Rose, dear, I am so glad you are here, you are the only one I could turn to.’ Still clutching my hand, she sobbed out the story. ‘To think all this was happening back here while we were so happy, enjoying ourselves in Jenners. Oh, dear heaven,’ she moaned, ‘my stupid pride, that’s to blame. If only I had been with him, Rose. I might have saved him.’

I thought that highly unlikely, it wasn’t the way heart attacks happened: the grim truth was one moment alive, the next quite dead. That was the rule.

Then I learnt that this was not the case. Felix had struck his head on the stone hearth when he fell. He had lost a lot of blood but was still alive, his life hanging by a thread.

‘Hodge found him. It was dreadful, dreadful.’ She shuddered. ‘When I arrived I almost died – the sight that met my eyes, you can’t imagine, Rose. There was Hodge covered in blood, everywhere – the poor man had been trying to lift the master, trying to help him, and God knows, if he hadn’t called a doctor neighbour from across the way, a few more
minutes and poor Felix would have bled to death.’

All I could do was sit there mutely and listen. But she was soon too exhausted to speak, dazed and shocked beyond words. She insisted that I stay the night, a guest room always at the ready was prepared for me: a fire glowing red, a nightgown provided.

In normal circumstances I would have relished staying in that beautiful room with its windows looking towards the Pentland Hills over the treetops of a spacious garden. Everything around me spoke of luxury, of comfort and wealth, but alas, this was not the case: the tragedy that awaited downstairs was inescapable.

Elma was too upset to eat. The doctor came from seeing Felix at the hospital, said little but gave her a sleeping draught. She insisted that I saw her to bed, and as she closed her eyes, she took my hand, held it tightly and said, ‘Promise you will stay, Rose. Promise, you won’t desert me. You’ll see me through all this, whatever happens.’

I assured her that I would do so. I didn’t feel much like sleeping either, but it had been an exhausting day and at last I drifted off in my magnificent surroundings, in the warm depths of the four-poster bed, to awake to the sound of a carriage on the drive.

It was eight o’clock and I heard voices in the corridor. A tap on the door, I opened it and the maid had left my breakfast on a tray outside. She saw me and said, ‘Madam will be in the breakfast room – the door on the left of the staircase.’

There was a bathroom along the corridor, unheard
of luxury in Solomon’s Tower, a newfangled luxury to most Edinburgh homes, and I would have enjoyed the prospect of a lingering bath, but after some hasty ablutions, I made my way downstairs.

Elma was seated at the table. She jumped up to greet me. Pale and exhausted, her shocked expression wrung my heart.

‘I have been to the hospital, that awful crowded place. I went at six o’clock this morning: I had to know how he was. Oh Rose, he is still alive, at least let us be thankful for that.’ She sobbed into a piece of lace and then lifting her head whispered, ‘I wanted to stay with him, but they wouldn’t let me, they said he was too ill. Gravely ill, as if I didn’t know that. The nurse emphasised that only his extremely thick skull saved him, any normal person would be dead. They didn’t give me much hope: even if he recovers, his memory might be affected.’ She shuddered. ‘His poor darling eyes were wide open, but he couldn’t recognise me. Oh Rose, seeing him in that terrible place – he should have been at home, we could have got the best physician Edinburgh has to offer, the best nurses to attend him. But they say he must not be moved and he must stay there.’

I didn’t want to distress her but agreed that he had to have constant care in a proper hospital where doctors were on hand in an emergency.

She made fists of her hands. ‘It’s so unfair. They won’t even let me see him alone. I’m told there must always be one of these grim policemen sitting at his bedside – isn’t that awful?’

I hadn’t expected that swift turn of events, as she continued, ‘Not even a moment’s privacy between us. When I complained, they said it was necessary. That’s all. But I can’t think of why, can you?’

I shook my head. An injured man, possibly dying, and his devoted wife. It wasn’t until later when I was aware of the true facts that I could hazard a guess for the policeman’s presence. That there was some doubt about the nature of her husband’s ‘heart attack’.

The real reason for the twenty-four hour surveillance was the off chance that, if Felix recovered, the police might get an answer to their question about what really happened in his study that afternoon, rather than the story cobbled together from the valet Hodge’s gabbled report.

All I had learnt so far was the suggestion that Felix had felt unwell, stood up to summon his valet by the bell at the fireplace but, unsteady on his feet, he had fallen and struck his head on the stone hearth. Lying there in a pool of blood was a much worse scene for poor Elma to imagine and a constant reproach to have to live with.

She was returning to her vigil in the hospital and so I went home on foot, declining the suggestion of a hiring cab, and while much regretting the absence of my bicycle, I was glad to breathe the fresh air and have my own thoughts for company.

As I entered the kitchen to be overwhelmed by Thane’s greeting – he had the freedom of the Tower to come and go as he pleased, having long ago learnt how to lift the
latch on the back door with his nose – the sound of a cab outside had me rushing to the front door.

Much to my surprise a very grim-faced Jack Macmerry emerged.

‘I thought you were going back to Glasgow,’ I said.

‘So did I,’ he said shortly. ‘But in view of the recent happenings at Rice Villa a decision on high means I have to stay. Short-staffed and all that sort of thing,’ he grumbled. ‘So my domestic concerns are of little weight when we are faced with a possible murder case.’

‘Murder!’ I whistled. So that was the reason for the policeman at Miles Rice’s side, I thought as he continued, ‘The possibility is that he might not have fallen but had been pushed, and that unless he recovers, which is considered most unlikely, and can tell us the facts about what really happened, then we may have an attempted murder on our hands.’

Leaning back in the chair, making himself at home as ever, he said, ‘And what do you think, being on such friendly terms with his wife? What’s your opinion, Rose?’

So that was it. Jack was being especially communicative in the hope that I had a fleeting acquaintance with the husband as well as the wife.

I told him that I had never met Miles Rice or even set foot in the house until Elma summoned me immediately after the accident.

He looked at me appraisingly. ‘She must think very highly of you, considering you met quite recently?’

That was a question I ignored as I told him of her distraught state.

He frowned. ‘Pity that you had never met him. It is
always useful to find out what goes on behind the scenes.’

‘If you mean by that, were they happy…? I can vouch for Elma: she absolutely adored her husband.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘So it appears, but let’s not forget none of us know what goes on between apparently happy couples once the bedroom door is closed. All our friends,’ he gave me a dark look as he emphasised the words, ‘would have vouched for the pair of us, imminently expecting that wedding invitation. And look what happened.’ A bitter smile as he shook his head wryly. ‘We all have had unpleasant surprises in that direction.’

I regarded him sternly. ‘If you are hinting that Elma secretly loathed her husband and wanted him dead, I can put your mind at ease. Elma was with me in Jenners when it happened. As one of my friends and half a dozen waitresses as well as the manageress of the lady’s millinery department can testify.’

Jack nodded solemnly. ‘Oh, I believe you, but there are means of disposing of people one loathes without physically being present, if one has enough money and influence.’ A pause. ‘Did you have a chance to meet the valet Hodge, by any chance?’

‘No. I didn’t see him while I was there. It was unlikely that the occasion demanded that I should be immediately introduced to her husband’s valet,’ I said heavily. ‘Anyway, he was probably too upset to meet anyone after what he had been through. Are you telling me that you think he is involved, your prime suspect, in fact?’

Jack said nothing for a moment then merely sighed deeply.

‘All I am saying, Rose, is that a deeper investigation concerning this accident is needed—’

‘What on earth do you mean, “deeper investigation”?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Here is this poor woman, heartbroken, terrified of losing her husband. Are you trying to tell me she engineered his death?’

Jack held up his hand in a gesture well remembered from our past life together. ‘Hold on, hold on there, Rose!’

Then he told me, reluctantly, I thought, that it had emerged recently that Miles Rice had enemies and, indeed, was possibly being blackmailed by unscrupulous business rivals.

He shook his head. ‘Some of the explanations for the happenings of that afternoon do not quite add up at the scene. The study has french windows into the garden. They were open—’

‘Hardly suspicious. Perhaps he was expecting a visitor.’

‘I would call that highly suspicious considering the circumstances—’

‘Then maybe he liked fresh air while he worked,’ I said defensively.

Jack gave me a wry look. ‘Fresh air, yes. But on a chill, rainy day with a strong wind?’

And I remembered that the weather had been particularly disagreeable. Violent sudden showers – we had to run from Jenners to the carriage, sheltered by the doorman’s umbrella.

‘You have a naturally suspicious mind, like all policemen,’ I said shortly.

He grinned. ‘And like all lady investigators should
have, my dear Rose. It is, as you used to tell me several times a day, an essential qualification for the job.’

He was right, of course, it was simply that this was too personal for me. I wanted desperately to protect Elma from further distress and was grateful that at least I was able to provide her with an alibi.

‘I presume the household have all been questioned?’

‘Only his valet was on hand to make the master’s tea and attend to any needs. Miles Rice, a generous employer, had treated the staff to a visit to the circus that afternoon.’

That accounted for the informal dinner Elma had planned and my first meeting with Felix.

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, adding grimly, ‘Which could also have provided useful information for a prospective burglar or killer.’

I was leaping ahead. I thought again of Hodge and wished I had met him. ‘What is known about Hodge anyway?’

He shook his head. ‘There isn’t a lot. He has been with Rice since before they came to Edinburgh. All we could get out of the interview with him was a statement that he was in a terrible state, finding his master lying there in a pool of blood, thought he was dead—’

‘What of his background?’ I asked sharply.

Jack shrugged. ‘Nothing criminal or suspicious, if that’s what you’re indicating – so far, that is. Of course, we’re looking into references etcetera.’

I realised that I was quite willing, most unjustly, to sacrifice the devoted valet whom I had never met. Jumping to conclusions, the first on the scene, the one
who discovers the body, is always the prime suspect in a murder case.

‘A burglary gone wrong, then?’

‘Mm,’ said Jack. ‘Considering the open french door, yes.’

He paused and said slowly, ‘There is another even more vague possibility but one worth careful consideration. Two suicides that may well be murder and now the Miles Rice incident.’ He sighed. ‘If he was attacked by an intruder, then this is the fourth violent crime in Edinburgh in less than a fortnight.’

‘And you think they may be connected?’

Jack nodded. ‘I feel there’s a definite link somewhere with that damned circus’s arrival.’ He shrugged. ‘We gather from the family physician that Rice had never had a day’s illness in his whole life. The hospital doctors confirm that there was nothing to indicate heart disease. Excellent health, in fact, for a man in his sixties.’

He frowned. ‘Consider the timing, Rose. Since the circus has come to town for a short season rather than a short visit we will have to walk warily in the future. We can’t really cope with wholesale massacres in the area, or multiple unexplained deaths,’ he added sarcastically.

‘The advent of the circus could be a mere coincidence,’ I offered, although I was never one to believe in such where violent crimes were concerned.

Jack remembered that, too, and said: ‘Wouldn’t you think the word “coincidence” is rather inapt to describe what has been going on?’