The Balmoral Incident (20 page)

Ahead of us, the girls stopped and waited.

‘What is wrong?’

‘Nothing wrong.’ He pointed. ‘This is the quick way back to the castle. Yolande will be waiting anxiously for Rowena.’

It was considerably shorter. He certainly knew his directions and a few minutes later, Rowena was restored to her tearful mother who couldn’t decide whether to slap her for disobedience or cuddle and kiss her in relief.

Her rescuer was thanked profusely and turning about we were heading back down the road to the cottage. With Meg and Thane leading the way, I cursed the bicycle that kept me apart from the man who kept appearing in my life, so full of surprises.

‘Let me,’ he said and took over the bicycle, pushing it with one hand, he offered an arm.

I decided thanks were in order. ‘You were very clever to guess about Katya’s camp. You headed in the right direction.’

‘Thane pretty much led the way.’ He smiled.

I said: ‘I remembered seeing you with the gipsies on the day we arrived to take up our holiday cottage at Balmoral.’

‘As I told you, they are my friends. I am always welcome with them. Katya is an old friend.’

All too soon for me, the cottage was in sight. Meg turned, ran back and threw her arms around him. ‘Thank you, sir.’ And with a reproachful look in my direction. ‘We were never in any danger, Mam. It seemed a good idea of Rowena’s that her great-grandma could make Thane better.’

‘And someone succeeded, didn’t they, old chap?’ Thane was having his head stroked and added his thanks by wagging his tail energetically. With Meg he ran down the path and vanished indoors, leaving me alone with the man who I had reason to believe, however reluctantly, had attacked Mabel and killed Lily and Bobby.

I thought of the clues, the evidence I had lined up against him. My prime suspect. If he hadn’t killed them, then who had? It was a sickening thought but I had to know.

‘The girl who drowned,’ I said slowly. ‘She was Miss Penby Worth’s maid.’

He seemed to know that. He nodded. ‘The lady with the pony-cart. Ah, yes I often see her watching the shooting party.’

‘As you know, she was attacked in the wood. Did you see the man?’

He shook his head. ‘All I saw was this lady in hysterics, saying a sack had been thrown over her head and someone had tried to kill her.’

He sounded faintly amused. I gave him a hard look and said. ‘Apparently your arrival saved her. He ran off.’

‘Was she hurt?’ He didn’t sound very concerned.

‘Fortunately, no. Just shocked, terribly scared.’

He nodded. ‘Are you sure she didn’t imagine it?’

‘Of course not. Why should she?’

He was smiling again. ‘Ladies can sometimes let their imagination run away with them where men are concerned.’

I couldn’t think of a reply and didn’t feel like defending Mabel, but the time had come to thank him and not knowing quite where to begin, wanting to extend the moment, I said: ‘You must have thought us very foolish, Yolande and I getting into such a state about our little girls.’

‘Children are very precious, the greatest of gifts,’ he said. There was a sadness in his voice.

Was he married then? ‘Have you any family?’

He looked away, his expression unreadable, blotted out by the moonlight behind us. ‘I had once, a very long time ago, I think.’

It was an odd statement and the silence indicated that I was not to hear any more about that. The moment was almost over. I could think of nothing to say to extend it, to detain him.

As he took my outstretched hand, the moonlight touched a curiously shaped scar on his bare wrist.

‘Have you been hurt?’ I asked.

He put his hand over it. ‘No, that is my passport.’

‘Passport to what?’

He didn’t answer, perhaps there was no answer.

I said, ‘Thank you, Mr Elder – or is it Tam?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not Elder, it’s Eildor. Tam Eildor.’ And leaning forward, his face blotted out the light as he kissed my cheek. So gently, a butterfly touch, so swift that later I would wonder if I had dreamt it. ‘Fare you well, Rose McQuinn.’

I wanted to say something about our paths crossing again. But the words stuck in my throat for those five words of his held finality and I knew that this was farewell, that we were never to meet again.

Thane had returned. He was watching us both intently. ‘And you too, old chap, watch over her.’

Inside the cottage everything was normal again. Mabel had retired long ago and Meg had her supper, full of chatter about the gipsies and how she would love to live in a caravan. I thought of what Katya had told me and decided that maybe one day when she was grown up I would tell her the story of her Romany mother. But not now and certainly not before I told Jack. And I wondered about that too. Would it stir the old unhappy memories? Was this a secret best kept to myself?

I didn’t sleep well that night. The evening’s events had given me so much to think about.

I also came to my senses that night and realised that he was not really like Danny at all, after that first impression. As I now knew him I saw that the illusion was mine alone. Clever Vince who knew me well had spotted the superficial likeness, the dark hair falling over his brow, his height, the way he walked.

But those eyes, strange, luminous, amber-coloured, by no stretch of imagination could they be described as Irish blue eyes, and I knew now that I had been writing him into the role of Danny.

Tam wasn’t a gipsy, but having seen him with Katya I knew there was something beyond the powers of explanation. A common bond, like the one Thane recognised, man and deerhound sharing that strange extra sense most humans had lost long ago, existing in only a few of us still as rare flashes of intuition. The precious link between the present and an ancient forgotten code that rules still in secret places on our earth, like Arthur’s Seat that had carried Thane into the present day and into our lives.

And even with all my ingenuity for interpreting clues, real or false, and for once losing my prime suspect, here was one mystery I could never hope to solve.

With only a couple of days before the Games and our departure, it was time to think about repacking, leaving the cottage in the same immaculate condition as it was when we moved in. Vince said not to bother, that the two servants would do it. But my pride would not allow that, especially for Rowena’s mother. I felt I must leave Yolande with a good impression.

I approached the task thankful to be returning home in normal circumstances, but I would never cease to regret that having lost my prime suspect I had not been able to solve what I would continue to regard as the murder of Lily, and of Bobby who had known her and had met with an unfortunate fatal accident, with all the evidence pointing to the fact that he had been killed by whoever he was blackmailing for more money.

Then there was Mabel’s attacker. Inspector Gray had
got no further with finding him. Finally the attack on Alice von Mueller. Although her assailant’s description could also have fitted that of Mabel’s, I was not convinced that there was any connection. It sounded much more like a hit man at the sinister instigation of her husband.

If all of these incidents were connected and no killer had been apprehended, then we had to conclude that there was a potential assassin in Balmoral, who bore all the marks of an insane creature who would kill again when I, along with Inspector Gray, had walked away leaving two murders and two attempted ones unsolved.

And always, there was no escaping that one vital element.

The motive. In Lily’s case, her death seemed motiveless. When I talked to Bobby at Crathie, he was terrified. He said he had been threatened by someone in authority, a man with a posh voice, who had given him ten quid to clear out. And although that fitted Vince’s interpretation of Biggs having given offence to someone at the Castle, I was sure that there was a deeper, more sinister reason. His association with Lily. Was he killed because believing he loved her, Lily had confided in him or asked for his help?

I had cases in my logbooks solved successfully on far less evidence. A picture was beginning to emerge where I had all the pieces, if only I knew how to put them together in the right order.

Then Vince provided that possibly vital missing piece when he said that before the Games, extra precautions had to be taken for the royal family’s safety. When questioned, he turned evasive and looked remarkably like a man who, having said too much, regretted it instantly.

‘There have always been these insane attempts, you know that from Stepfather, surely. He was the Queen’s personal detective here in Balmoral, after all. Saved her life once or twice.’

He tried to shrug off my interest, change the subject, but I was on to it. ‘You mean that the King’s life is in danger?’

That accounted for many things which now slid into place, like Inspector Gray’s continued presence and the number of ghillies I’d seen wandering about during my walks in the wood with Thane, far enough away from the castle. I recognised at once that these were ghillies in name only. There was no disguising their discomfort or embarrassment in that particular Balmoral uniform of kilts and glengarry bonnets, they still looked and walked like policemen.

I now knew what the venue would be. It didn’t take a great deal of imagination to guess that the Games at Invercauld would be the perfect camouflage, the crowds providing perfect cover for assassins to strike and make good their escape. The police would have to be very vigilant indeed and extra pairs of eyes in the backs of their heads would have been a considerable advantage.

At last I seemed to have all the ingredients if only I could sort them out. The victims so far, Lily and Bobby. Was there a vital link I had overlooked? Was Lily, in fact, a spy? From the vague background Mabel had provided I had concluded that she was foreign, didn’t speak English but spoke and understood it perfectly. Perfect camouflage for a spy to be able to overhear conversations.

Even being so colourless was an excellent disguise for
Lily, who according to the stable lads loved horses. White horses like the Lipizzaners suggested Austria or Germany, and hinted to a possible link with Alice’s husband, who hated the English, obsessed by the belief that his distant cousin Kaiser Wilhelm, who blamed his mother, Queen Victoria’s daughter, for his withered arm, was the rightful king of England. Accepting the invitation to Balmoral gave Hermann von Mueller a sinister reason for his presence, the perfect opportunity of serving his beloved Kaiser.

Who was the man who had threatened Bobby? Was the reason for his murder because believing he loved her, Lily had confided in him or asked for his help? Who was the man who had threatened Bobby and given him a ten-pound bribe to clear off? That wasn’t enough for the wide boy and greedy for more had cost him his life. Was this unseen tall man ‘with the posh voice’ Bobby had described also Mabel’s attacker? If so, then she would never know what a narrow escape she had that day.

This discovery was so vital, so urgent, that I had to tell someone. Even Mabel would do, except that she was away with the pony cart, probably to Ballater for some last shopping.

Vince’s daily visit to the cottage was still hours away. If he wasn’t in his surgery at the castle then I could leave an urgent message. I was just about to leave when I heard a lot of strange noises upstairs. From Mabel’s bedroom. I ran upstairs and poked my head around the door.

And what a scene. A large bird, a young jackdaw by the size of it, had fallen down the chimney, carrying with it a vast quantity of soot, and trapped, its frantic rushes at the window had made a terrible mess of the room.

I opened the window and after considerable effort with a towel from the bathroom managed to steer it to the windowsill, where with an indignant squawk it flew out and disappeared.

I looked around in dismay. Soot marks and droppings everywhere. I hadn’t the heart to let Mabel come back to this, she was useless as a housewife, nor did I feel I could call on Yolande and Jessie who would be busy in the kitchen at this hour. I would have to tackle it myself so I went downstairs, returned with bucket and brush and began cleaning the room.

I had almost finished when in one corner of that overcrowded little room there was damage I hadn’t noticed. The jackdaw’s descent from the chimney had knocked down a large jar. Praying that it wasn’t a priceless antique from Abergeldie Castle for the lid was chipped, I lifted it carefully.

There was something inside wrapped in newspaper. I knew as soon as I held it in my hand what it was. A gun, a derringer. I had one exactly like it at home. In the barrel, ready for firing, two bullets. Had it been forgotten by some previous occupant? Was Mabel aware of its presence?

Then I looked at the newspaper –
The Times,
which Mabel conscientiously bought each time she went to Ballater. And dated two weeks ago.

There was my answer. The gun was Mabel’s and she had hidden it in the vase. Then I remembered how after our concern for her attack she said if it happened again she would be armed. And that triggered another memory. How when she first went out in the pony cart to follow the shooting parties, she had said wistfully
that she was a lot better than most of those men.

I was still wondering whether I should mention the gun to her when there was another crisis. Cries from the garden where the two girls had been playing. Rowena rushed in followed by Thane. ‘Mrs Macmerry, come quickly. Meg has fallen out of the tree.’

I rushed out. Meg was lying at the base of the ancient tree; its potential as a possible tree house abandoned, one of its large branches had been a delight to swing on. Now it lay on the ground beside Meg, who was crying and clutching her leg.

‘My ankle, Mam. It’s broken,’ she sobbed.

I knelt down beside her. Thankfully it didn’t feel like a broken ankle, but it was badly sprained. Trying to calm her, I carried her into the cottage. In a lot of pain, I must get her to Vince.

At that moment I heard the pony cart. Mabel had returned from Ballater, and coming in with her parcels, she took one look at the scene and demanded: ‘What on earth has happened now? You girls, always in trouble.’

‘Meg fell off the tree,’ Rowena said. ‘We were swinging and suddenly it just snapped.’

‘Didn’t I warn them? Every day I said—’

I cut her short. ‘Can I take the pony cart? I must get her to Vince.’

She shrugged. ‘Of course, I’m finished with it for today.’

I wrung out a towel in cold water, wrapped it round the injured ankle, and with Rowena helped her into the cart.

Mabel stood at the door with Thane. My questions to her would have to wait.

Vince was not at the surgery. The nurse who assisted him said he should be back shortly and that he had gone to the railway station to collect someone in the motor. A kindly, middle-aged, cheerful lady, she immediately took over Meg who had given up attempts at being brave as the nurse examined her ankle. After some soothing drops to kill the pain and some expert bandaging, she took me aside.

‘No, it isn’t broken, Mrs Macmerry, but it’s a very bad sprain, I’m afraid. Dr Laurie will confirm that.’ She sighed. ‘I doubt this little lass will be able to go to the Games.’

Relieved with her verdict, I knew that Meg would be only slightly disappointed, as neither she nor Rowena liked sitting still for hours. And then there was Thane. What to do with him while we were all absent for several hours?

The answer was simple. Rowena and Meg would stay with him. I thought of the old adage about ill winds. I heard a motor outside.

At the window, Meg said: ‘It’s Uncle Vince!’ She waved to him. The door opened and he came in. Followed by Jack.

What a surprise! A brief kiss and he rushed to Meg’s side. There was a lot of hugging, consoling, soothing words, before Vince separated them and got to work examining Meg.

‘No need to wait, you two. I’ll bring her back in the motor. Yes, Rowena, you can stay.’

It was my turn to be in line for hugs. As we walked back to the cottage, my first question was: ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Have to be in Aberdeen tomorrow, a special enquiry. Hoped to be given time off to come to the Games, so that we could all go home together. But duty calls, as always.’

‘I’m so glad to see you again.’

He put an arm around me and sighed. ‘Me too, Rose, never get used to being away from you both.’

We kissed and I said: ‘It doesn’t look like Meg will manage the Games.’

‘Too bad.’ I explained about Thane and he smiled. ‘Good thinking. She would soon be bored with all the ceremonials and the competitions. Not my thing, either. But I got quite a shock, I can tell you, when Vince was about to drop me off at the cottage and there was Mabel waving frantically. I guessed there was something wrong.’

So I told him about Mabel’s hidden weapon. He merely shook his head and seemed to find it amusing, eccentric, and somehow typical of her. It was a very short visit. The next time we were to meet would be home again, in Edinburgh.

Dave collected him in the motor for the train from Ballater. Meg arrived back with Vince, leaning on a crutch. But it was not until after supper, when Mabel retired and we got Meg upstairs to bed, that I was able to tell him everything.