Quest for a Killer (8 page)

I thought for a moment. ‘There is another possibility, one we know nothing about. That Rice had a secret enemy, someone with whom he had an assignation that afternoon, hence the open french door. There followed a murderous attack which had no connection with Edinburgh or with the circus.’

‘I’ve thought of that too. And the circus with its constantly moving motley collection of individuals could be the perfect refuge for a killer. Too many unknowns, and I suspect that a lot of those performers might have backgrounds that wouldn’t bear too close investigation.’

‘Was that what you were really doing the other evening when I met you and your colleagues enjoying the greatest show on earth?’ I asked casually.

He looked solemn for a moment. ‘Nothing to do with these events, as it happens.’ Then with a grin, ‘You ask too many questions, Rose.’

‘It’s the way to get answers, Jack, surely you as a policeman know that, and it is always the one that was too obvious and no one thought to ask that holds the vital clue.’

Flexing his shoulders he stood up. ‘And the sooner we find this vital missing clue, the sooner I get back to Glasgow and sort out my domestic problems looming there.’

It was difficult for me to imagine Jack in the role of a devoted father. I had miscarried the one child conceived during our relationship, the reason for a hastily arranged marriage fated never to happen.

I thought of the motherless wee daughter with compassion.

In the anxious days that followed, Elma became a constant visitor. She told me somewhat guiltily that it was a blessed relief to walk Rufus on the hill. One of the maids could have performed this task as Elma spent endless hours at her husband’s bedside, watching over him, searching his still countenance for some faint return of consciousness.

Each day as we walked together she repeated her story of self-reproach, going over and over the details of that fatal fall in his study – blaming herself for being absent, as she was so often out shopping in Princes Street and looking at millinery in Jenners.

‘Thank heaven you were with me, Rose dear, you are the only one who truly understands.’

I found this quite remarkable. She must have many close friends in her own circle but since we met I had become her oft declared ‘most trusted friend’. Having been together at a time of crisis was a further bond, and now it seemed I was the only person whose company she wished for, reliving those moments of
happiness – the circus and the play, the shopping excursions – before the blow fell that was to throw her life into disarray and change it for ever.

I, who had long been a widow, knew only too well what it felt like to love and lose a husband, and listening patiently to these daily outpourings with compassion, I thought of her alone in Edinburgh, with no family to turn to.

Wait a moment. What of her twin brother Peter, training to be a doctor?

But when I mentioned him, she looked at me, her expression almost fearful.

‘Peter has just returned from a hospital in South Africa, in the war zone. Indeed, he was my very first thought, but he wouldn’t be able to help poor Felix,’ a sob restrained as she shook her head. ‘Alas, he hasn’t the experience.’

I hadn’t thought of him in a medical capacity, merely as the twin whose closeness would bring her comfort.

‘Where is he now?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. London, I think. That was his last address.’ And leaning forward confidentially. ‘He would have come to Edinburgh to see me again immediately had I summoned him, I know that. But there is a complication. You see, he has formed an attachment with a young lady in London. It would not be the first time, ladies find him quite irresistible.’

She paused, smiled tenderly and then added with a dour sigh, ‘It is different this time – there are hints about an engagement.’

And I got a fleeting but quite distinct idea that this relationship was not to her liking. Perhaps being a twin brought a feeling of possessiveness, jealousy at being displaced in their natural bond.

‘Shouldn’t you let him know? He would be a comfort and even his little medical knowledge would be a consolation to you,’ I said, thinking how I had always relied on my stepbrother Dr Vince Laurie in moments of crisis.

‘Oh indeed, yes.’ But her words lacked conviction and she looked rather worried, biting her lip. ‘We are very close…’ a wan smile, ‘and I long to have him meet you, my new, dear friend. I am sure he will love you, Rose.’

After Elma left I thought about Peter and her strange reactions. Perhaps she had not told the exact truth and had elevated a humble role as hospital nurse to that of medical student. Equally admirable for service to the public, but no doubt a profession that did not suit her lifestyle in the Grange.

So much snobbery about professions: lawyers, doctors, ministers were the acceptable strata but the lower echelons were not considered good company by the dinner party society. A sad truth but I thought, unworthily, to say ‘my brother is a doctor’ sounded grander by far than ‘a hospital nurse’, a profession regarded, despite the efforts of Florence Nightingale, as very low on the social ladder.

And then suddenly out of the blue, talking of the medical profession, totally unexpected as always, not a
bit of warning, a carriage rolled up the road and out jumped a familiar, much loved but all-too-seldom-seen figure.

Delighted, breathless with excitement, I rushed out screaming, ‘Vince!’

So wonderful to see him and, as usual, he swept me off my feet as we embraced. Thane also rushed forward to greet one of his favourite humans and we all tumbled into the kitchen where, once Vince was seated by the fire and the kettle on the hob, I asked, as always, the vital question.

‘How long can you stay?’

Usually it was a few hours only, an escape from Balmoral and the royal household while the royal train rested in Waverley Station, waiting for some prince or princess to open a hospital wing or a bridge in Edinburgh.

Vince laughed. ‘Blame the royal train once again. Has to collect one of the grandchildren from Kensington Palace, bring him back to Her Majesty for a short holiday. A delicate flower, this one, and unfortunately he has developed a slight complication to his recovery from a chill – a troublesome cough, I believe – and won’t be allowed to travel until he is proclaimed fit and well again.’

Pausing, he grinned impishly. ‘So it was hardly worth sending me on the train back to Balmoral for a couple of days.’

‘A couple of days.’ I laughed delightedly. It was wonderful, the prospect of having him for more than a brief hour or two. Fortunately I had a good supply
of vegetables from the garden and soup was always on offer, especially Vince’s favourite Scotch broth.

While I prepared the meal he brought me up to date with the latest news on Olivia and the three children. All were well, the children growing rapidly and all eager to know when I was going to London to visit them at St James.

The question and the invitation was ongoing, but alas, I never managed to tear myself away from Edinburgh and possibly, or probably, Thane. I had taken him on short train journeys, a couple of cases in the Borders in recent years, but the idea of his reactions to busy distant London had no appeal and I felt was beyond any hope of success.

‘And what of you?’ Vince asked. ‘Any exciting news? Stands Edinburgh where it did?’

So I told him about Jack. He looked solemn, for he had been very sorry when we parted. The two men had become good friends and Vince was bitterly disappointed to learn – I saw it in his eyes – that Jack had got married, although I said it so lightly, making it quite matter of fact.

Although he shook his head sadly to hear that the brief marriage had ended so tragically, however, that Jack was now a widower caused him to brighten visibly. Never a good actor, he was totally unable to conceal his hopes that Jack’s return to Edinburgh was a clear indication that we were to be together again.

His question was eager. ‘And how do you feel about Jack now?’

‘Sad for him – the wee daughter motherless.’

‘Is that all?’ he demanded. It was clearly not what he had in mind.

I set down the plates. ‘All for the present, I’m afraid.’

Vince’s face expressed impatience and disappointment.

‘I have just heard this news,’ I said. ‘Hardly had time for what you are so anxious to read – as you might call it – between the lines.’

Vince was silent for a moment, then said slowly, ‘I imagine the fact that he got in touch with you means that he still wants you, Rose. After all, you sent him away—’

I was glad I had not given him the details of that last interview between us as I interrupted:, ‘Oh, for heavens sake, I think it was fairly mutual.’

Vince shrugged. ‘Maybe. But by this time you can no longer pretend that Danny is the reason you won’t marry him.’ He shook his head. ‘Missing he might still be, but dead he most certainly is. Surely you can no longer have the slightest doubts?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, I have come to terms with it.’

‘You are indeed a widow, my dear,’ he insisted, ‘and you are sensible enough to realise that you have been so since the day you left Arizona more than four years ago. It merely became a convenient excuse to delay your marriage to Jack Macmerry,’ he added sternly.

Vince knew me too well to bother to deny that and a short silence followed while he finished his soup and tackled the bread and cheese. Declining tea he took out a handsome silver flask which I guessed contained a very expensive whisky from the royal cellars.

‘What other news? How are you progressing with the typewriting machine?’

I noticed him giving it a hard look as we walked through the hall, where it sat at one end of the refectory table in isolated splendour under its leather cover, rarely removed.

I said, ‘Not very well. It’s a slow business learning when I can write much quicker by hand.’

He grinned, and then said solemnly, ‘You’ll be very glad of it someday – it’s been a great boon to people who do clerical work. Such progress. I thought you would take to it immediately, the way you took to riding a bicycle.’

He had handed on the machine to me on his last brief visit. Brought it all the way from London, a present from one of his wealthy ex-patients who was leaving the country. ‘Quite honestly, I was grateful but couldn’t see myself ever having time or opportunity to learn to use it. But I immediately thought of how useful it would be to you.’

I hadn’t wanted to sound ungrateful either but couldn’t see myself sitting behind it tapping out letters, which I could do much quicker and more efficiently with a pen and notebook.

However, I had decided to try it out. Large and unwieldy as I removed it into the hall, I staggered and bashed it against the stone wall. Thankfully it suffered no damage – or so I thought – until I discovered that one of the letter keys had jammed and required considerable effort to print. Yet another reason why I hadn’t continued to practise, which I hardly felt like
confessing to Vince considering it was a gift that he had set so much store by.

‘Keep persevering,’ he said, ‘it’s not like you to let anything defeat you.’ I smiled wryly and, changing the subject, he asked, ‘Anything exciting on Edinburgh’s crime scene?’

As Vince’s logic and reasoning were always reliable and, in some of my past cases, he prided himself on touching some factor I might have overlooked, I brought him up to date on the two girls’ suicides.

He whistled. ‘Same place, same method. Unless it was a suicide pact and that seems unlikely, particularly with the absence of notes – unusual given the circumstances. For one, an imminent marriage, for the other, a disabled grandfather.’ He paused. ‘Surely the police have murder in mind? Isn’t your lady investigator’s mind intrigued?’

When I told him of Jack’s suggestion that I carry on an unofficial investigation, he almost applauded, and not only for the detection idea either, I was sure. His imagination was bounding ahead to the closeness this would bring and a happy partnership on quite a different level.

I switched off his enthusiastic comments and told him about my new friend Elma and her husband’s unfortunate accident.

‘I believe you met them at Balmoral.’

‘Felix Miles Rice. Of course, I remember him very well. A great wit and a reputation as a philanthropist. Got along splendidly with HM. Bags of charm, don’t you think?’

‘I haven’t had the pleasure. But Elma obviously
adores him. I gather this is a very happy second marriage.’

Vince gave me a wry look. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but I think you gather wrong, my dear. About the adoration, I mean. From personal experience this was not the impression we got at Balmoral. She seemed to be anxious to avoid him and it was, I suspected, mutual. A good front for the natives, but behind the scenes…’ He paused and shook his head.

‘Rubbish!’ I said shortly. ‘What you witnessed might have been just a domestic tiff, everyone has them. Even you and Olivia.’

He grinned. ‘Don’t I just know that! All married couples have rows,’ and shaking his head, ‘but not this. This gave an impression that it was somehow rooted, long-standing.’ He shrugged. ‘The frequent dark look, the sharp word, the scornful rejoinder – the indifference.’

‘What nonsense,’ I said, ‘all based on a few hours acquaintance. I’m sure you’re wrong, and anyway, I prefer to take Elma’s word.’

He nodded. ‘Your choice, as always. What about Felix?’

When I gave a few brief details of the accident, I could see the medical side of him take immediate possession.

‘Poor chap. I’ve heard of cases like this. A coma for a few days, then…’ He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t hold out too much hope. Poor chap,’ he repeated. ‘And what of Elma? I gather there were no children.’

‘She has a twin brother, studying medicine. He’s
been working at the front in South Africa.’

Vince’s head shot up. ‘She’ll be glad to have him at her side, have his support through this difficult time.’

As I valued Vince’s opinion, I went into further details about the accident, the discovery by his valet and so on.

‘What did the doctors say about the heart attack?’

So I told him about the excellent health record.

He frowned and seemed to come to a sudden decision. ‘Do you know, I’d very much like to go in and take a look at him,’ he said eagerly.

‘I very much doubt that you would be allowed to visit him, Vince. He is under twenty-four-hour surveillance, a policeman sitting constantly at his bedside. All adding to poor Elma’s despair; naturally she wants some privacy.’

‘Naturally,’ Vince echoed dryly.

I gave him a hard look.

He smiled. ‘Obviously the police suspect that there might be more than a serious fall, especially where there is no evidence of heart disease.’

He shrugged. ‘This could be a bad business, a very bad business for everyone concerned.’