Cold, Lone and Still

4: Shelter — at a Price

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There seemed no doubt that we were out on Rannoch Moor and my heart began to fail me. Who could tell what treacherous morass or small but dangerous lochan awaited us? It was all right, I supposed, so long as we could keep to what must, in old time, have been a drover’s road, or perhaps a stretch of a military road long since abandoned or, possibly, never completed, but what was to happen to us if, at some time, it petered out or if our legs refused to allow us to walk any further? It was not as though we were seasoned hikers accustomed to bad weather and other hazards. We had nothing with which to make camp or any other kind of bivouac. Hera guessed what I was thinking and spoke cheerfully and with optimism.

‘We’ve got food, thank goodness,’ she said, ‘and this track may be rough, but it seems firm enough. I expect it leads to a bothy or a disused shepherd’s hut. There will be some sort of shelter where we can lie up until the mist clears.’

‘I’m very sorry I’ve landed you in this,’ I said. ‘I ought to have realised ages ago that we’d come off The Way.’

‘Why do you blame yourself? It’s my fault. If I’d listened to you, we should have been safe and snug at Bridge of Orchy. You’re right. I am obstinate and wrong-headed. You should be firmer with me.’

‘Some hopes! You’re a law unto yourself.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose this is our testing-time and we shall have to survive it. It may prove to be a blessing in disguise. Who knows?’

As though her optimism had wrought some sort of magic, shelter came halfway to meet us, as it were, for we almost walked into a wall. Just in time, the torch I was using picked out the obstacle. I put out my hand. It met rough stone and my torch, which had warned me, showed us great slabs of what looked like granite.

‘If there’s a wall, there must be a door,’ I said. We groped our way to the right and, at thirty stumbling paces, found an opening. ‘Stand still while I explore. When you hear me call out, switch on your torch so that I can find you again.’ (We had agreed not to use her torch unless this was absolutely necessary, because we did not know when we would be able to buy any more batteries.)

‘Don’t be long, then,’ she said. ‘What do you think this place is?’

‘Goodness knows.’ I left her and felt my way along the wall until my hand suddenly encountered nothingness. I stopped short and shone my torch into what seemed a man-made aperture. I groped my way in, picked out another wall, felt my way along it and moved the torch up and down. Suddenly I found that I was looking at an unglazed window. It was not very large and it was rounded at the top. I groped my way back to Hera, but caught my foot on a chuck of stone, fell and hit my head. I picked myself up and got to her, but felt rather dizzy.

‘I think it’s a house of sorts,’ I said, ‘but I doubt whether it’s occupied. I’ve found an entrance and a window, but there’s no glass in it and I couldn’t see any lights. There must be a door further on. Mind how you go. It’s a bit rough underfoot.’ I felt my head, but it was not bleeding.

With her at my heels, I moved forward again. Then I stopped, after warning her that I was going to do so, and shone my torch in at the glassless window. It was as misty inside the building as outside it. I felt certain that the place, whatever it was, was empty, but I called out to ask whether anybody was at home.

There was no response, although I called out more than once, so I told Hera again to stay where she was while I tried to find a proper door to the building.

‘If I can’t,’ I said, ‘we shall have to scramble in through this window. Think you can manage?’

‘If you can, I can. Why don’t we do it? Even if you do find a door, it will probably be locked and I don’t much want to be left alone here while you go exploring. Besides, you might fall down a well or some other awful thing, and then what should we do? Please let us stay together.’

There seemed common sense in this. I told her to pocket her torch and I handed her mine with instructions to light me while I scrambled in. Then I took the torch from her and, with my help, she managed the climb more easily than I had done.

We both used our torches when she had joined me inside, and found that we were in a dark bare room with a fireplace opposite the window. The roof was low and, so far as I could tell, it appeared to be sound.

‘Thank God for that,’ I said. ‘We can roost here until the mist lifts.’

‘What’s the time?’

‘Half five. We must have come a mighty long way since we left Bridge of Orchy.’

‘If I didn’t already know that, my legs would tell me,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t walk another step until I’ve had a rest. We shan’t see Inveroran tonight or any dinner. I’m going to get out of these wet things and put on my spares. You’d better do the same. The mist seeps into every kind of clothing.’

‘If only we could make a fire,’ I said, ‘we could have a shot at drying our trousers and socks.’ But, although there were ashes in the grate, there was no fuel. We ate some of our emergency rations and I set light to the paper bags in which the food had been packed, but they only flared up and, for an instant, showed not only more of the primitive bareness of the room, but an opening in one of the inside walls.

‘We’ll explore this place before we leave,’ said Hera. ‘I believe it’s a ruined castle. All the same, I don’t much want to spend the night here. If only the mist would lift!’

There seemed nothing to do except settle down and wait, so this we did for what seemed a very long time. Then Hera, who (both of us having changed into dry clothes), had been stretched out on the floor with her head pillowed in my lap, sat up and said, ‘Oh, look, Comrie! The mist’s lifting. I can see the outline of the window. Let’s go.’

‘I’m as thirsty as Tantalus,’ I said. ‘Do you mind if I look around for a well or a tap or something?’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No need. I’ll take your mug and bring you a drink of water if I can find any which seems drinkable.’

‘No. I’ll come. I don’t much like this place.’

I went to the aperture and looked out. The mist had given place to steady, relentless rain, but there was daylight again and I found myself looking out on to a small, paved yard with a high, retaining wall. I could see the archway by which we had groped our way into the yard and when I put my head out of the window I could see another archway at the further side of the enclosure. Hera joined me and I made way so that she could look out.

‘Yes, we must be in the ruins of a castle,’ she said. ‘That means we are miles off our track. There is no mention of castle ruins in the brochure, is there?’

‘Not so far as I know. It’s probably the remains of one of General Wade’s little forts.’

‘How far do you think we walked after we left Bridge of Orchy?’ she asked.

‘Difficult to say, but, what with the mist and the rough road, probably not as far as it seemed.’

We turned away from the window and went through the doorway into a room which was better lighted than the one we had left, for it had only three walls. In the angle of two of these there was a stair. I had my torch with me, so I shone it, but it lighted only a few of the stone steps before the turn of the spiral hid the next part of the flight.

‘That looks exciting,’ said Hera.

‘You don’t go up there,’ I said. ‘It could be unsafe. Let’s try through here.’ There was a massive nail-studded door in the staircase wall. I pushed it open. Hera peered in.

‘But it’s pitch-dark,’ she said.

‘It must be the passage which led to the kitchen. This must be the entrance hall that we’re in and there will be a pump in the kitchen, I expect,’ I told her cheerfully.

We never carried drinks in our rucksacks because of the extra weight, so all we had had to quench our thirst was a half-pound bag of cherries with which we had finished our recent meal. I advanced into the opening and shone my torch so that the beam was straight ahead of me.

‘No wonder it’s dark in here,’ I said. ‘It’s blocked at the other end.’ It was as I said the words that I fell over the dead man who was sprawled across the passage.

‘Change back into your other clothes as quickly as you can,’ I said, when I had hustled Hera back to the room into which we had climbed. ‘We don’t want to get these togs soaked as well, and it’s pouring with rain outside.’

‘Why the hurry? What’s the matter? Couldn’t you get the blocked end of the passage open?’ she asked, understandably surprised by the force I had used to get her back into the other room.

‘I didn’t try. We’ve got to get away from here as quickly as ever we can. Don’t ask questions. Just get changed.’

‘You’ve got to tell me why. Did you see a ghost in the passage? — or what?’

‘Not a ghost, although there might be one in the future. There’s a dead man in there. I kicked him. Now for heaven’s sake shut up and get changed. There’s no point in getting two sets of clothes soaked through.’

Shivering with distaste, we climbed into our damp trousers and gave our anoraks, which were waterproof, a final shake before we put them on. ‘Now let’s have a good look round and make sure we haven’t left any traces to show that we were here,’ I said.

‘But why? The police will have to be told about — about him.’

‘Not on your life! We only found the body by the merest accident. It is no business of ours if people get themselves killed in ruined forts and I’m damned if I’m going to get myself mixed up with Scottish law and procurator fiscals and all the rest of it. What we’ve got to do is to step it out as soon as we leave here and trust to luck that we can find either Bridge of Orchy or Inveroran before dark. The mist is excuse enough if we get there late. We’ve got to alibi ourselves, don’t you see?’

‘But why? And why did you drag me away from the passage like that? I wouldn’t have minded seeing a corpse.’

‘We’ll go through that opening in the hall where the wall’s gone. It will be easier than scrambling through that window again,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you more later. Come on! Come on!’ So we passed through another, smaller yard which was strewn with fallen masonry, crossed into the first yard and so out of the precincts by the postern door. The road was plain enough to follow. We headed on to it and I set a cracking pace as we left the ruins behind us.

‘Oh, do slow down a bit,’ said Hera, after about the first half-mile. ‘We’re walking as though the Devil himself is behind us.’

‘Who knows that he isn’t?’ I said, slackening the pace; and then I gave her the bad news. ‘The dead man was Carbridge,’ I said, ‘and he wasn’t merely dead; he’d been murdered. That’s why I hauled you away before you saw him.’ She said nothing in response to this, but, from then on, she set the pace herself and there was no more talk about going to the police. All she said was: ‘I didn’t want it to happen that way.’

‘What didn’t you?’ I asked foolishly.

‘I did want to get to Fort William before he did, but now he can’t get there at all. But, look here’ — she slowed down and almost stopped walking — ‘are you sure it was Carbridge? It couldn’t have been, you know. I mean, how did he get there and where are the other three?’

‘Lost in the mist, the same as we were. He must have lost contact with them somewhere or other on the moor. Perhaps they were too slow for him if Jane Minch’s feet are hurting her.’

‘Todd wouldn’t have been slow. They would have gone on together, wouldn’t they? Where is Todd?’

‘Fleeing from justice, perhaps. I tell you Carbridge was murdered. I saw that he was. It looks to me as though Todd —’

‘No! You are not to say that! It’s wicked. You have no proof!’

‘Sorry! No, of course I haven’t. Now let’s hurry on. I can’t forget I had a row with Carbridge last night and there were witnesses. I can’t afford to report his body to the police. How can I?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she said, ‘but it was only a passing tiff. It would never occur to anybody who was there that any thought of murder was in your mind.’

‘It would never occur to anybody?’ I repeated, but in the form of a query, not a statement. ‘Well, if you’re interested, I might as well tell you that it occurred to me. If I had been alone with him last night —’

‘If you had been alone with him, the situation would never have arisen. Look here, I was right the first time about reporting what you saw. Don’t you see that the body is bound to be found soon. I suppose they’ll either take it to Fort William or to Stirling, but I really haven’t a clue about these things and I simply don’t want to know, but can’t you see, Comrie, we must tell the police we found him. There’ll be the most awful trouble if we don’t, when it all comes out that we were in that ruin.’

‘How can it come out? Even if it was discovered that we were there, there is nothing to prove that we saw the body. I didn’t even touch him.’

‘You fell over him. You accidentally kicked him. Bodies can bruise, even if they’re dead.’

‘Which proves what? Look, now, Hera, if you go to the police, you’ll land us in a whole lot of trouble and we may be held up for days, even if we’re not actually placed under suspicion. The first thing the police are going to ask is whether we knew the man.’

‘We could say no to that.’

‘And have them round up Todd and the rest of the gang and prove us to be liars? That would help a lot!’

‘Oh, dear! I don’t know what to do.’

‘That doesn’t sound like you. Anyway, when in doubt, do nothing and let Time pass. What did somebody call it? — masterly inactivity. That’s our ticket and we can’t afford to swop it for any other. Can’t you see that?’

It must have been at about this point that the rain eased off and we could see further ahead of us than we had been able to do since leaving the ruins. I had an idea that we were approaching the spot where we had deviated from The Way. I heard voices and laughter. Hastily I dragged Hera into a dip in the moor and pulled her down among the soaking plants in the hollow.

‘Keep quiet,’ I whispered. ‘If anybody spots us here, they’ll only think of Lady Chatterley in the rain, but we mustn’t be seen walking away from the ruins.’

The voices died in the distance. Cautiously I reconnoitred. There was nobody to be seen, so I pulled Hera to her feet and hand in hand, muddy now as well as wet, we ran forward. Almost the first thing we set eyes on was one of the signs used to mark The Way.

‘So this is where we went wrong,’ she said. ‘Just our luck! How do you know Carbridge was murdered?’

‘Saw a dirty great knife sticking out of him. It was something I didn’t want you to see.’

‘And you’re certain he was dead, although you didn’t handle him?’

‘Quite certain. He was cold and stiff.’

‘Then you must have touched him, or you wouldn’t have known that.’

‘All right, I did touch him, but nobody will ever know, unless you tell them.’

‘Oh, that’s not fair!’ she said passionately. ‘Look here, I want to go home. I want to get on a train and go back to Glasgow, and then I want to get on another train and get to Euston, and then I want to take a taxi to my flat and never go on holiday again.’

‘Cool it,’ I said. ‘Forget all about today. We’ve done nothing wrong and there certainly was nothing anybody could do for poor Carbridge. Let it ride. The most stupid thing we could do now is to go straight home. People would begin wondering why. When people begin wondering why, trouble starts.’

‘What people?’

‘People at home, for one thing. They would know we must have had some reason for cutting our holiday short and, naturally, they’d begin to speculate and then, once the body is discovered —’

‘That might not be for ages, unless we —’

‘Oh, my dear girl, use your loaf! The poor chap will be missed and a search will be made. Those ruins are not all that far off The Way and there are plenty of his gang to testify that he was walking The Way when he went missing. In fact, he will have been reported missing already, I wouldn’t wonder. The sooner we get to Inveroran and pick up our planned schedule, the better. As it stands at present, nobody can prove that we ever deviated, let alone that we holed up in the ruins. The mist and the time we spent at Bridge of Orchy will account for that gap in the time scheme. Thank goodness we took so much time over lunch. It may turn out to be our alibi.’

‘It still think we ought to go to the police.’

‘In heaven’s name, no! Do you want to land us both in the cart?’

‘If he was murdered, the murderer ought to be found.’

‘He will be found. No doubt about that.’

‘Even a few hours may make all the difference.’

‘Oh, Hera, it’s no business of ours. Hang it all, we didn’t even like the chap!’

‘That’s all the more reason for doing our best to see that justice is done.’

‘Punishing his murderer won’t bring Carbridge back.’

‘Finding out who killed him may help a lot of people. Don’t you see, Comrie, that one of his gang must have killed him? I wouldn’t let you put it on to Todd, but one of that four —’

‘Not necessarily at all. There are plenty of thugs and muggers about. He may have had a toss-up with the rest of them and gone off on his own and run into trouble.’

‘Can you imagine that, though? He was the most gregarious pest I’ve ever met. He would never have gone off on his own.’

‘Well, that could boil it down to just three people. So far as we know, he was left with Todd and the two Minches. Tansy and Rhoda had cried off and the students and Perth were way, way behind. Any of the other three could have had a reason for killing him. We don’t know what the relationships were like among them.’

We tramped on, and were soon clocked in at the Inveroran hotel. No questions were asked about our wet and muddy appearance. They are used to wet and muddy people in the Highlands, I suppose. They promised that our clothes would be sponged and would be dry by the morning, so we went to our rooms, had a bath, changed (Hera into the slinky frock again), and went downstairs to have a drink before dinner. I began to relax, however temporarily.

Most of the other guests appeared to be climbers, and there was much talk of mountains I had never heard of, or else I did not recognise the pronunciation of their Gaelic names. We listened and admired and I hoped that our recent experiences were being overlaid in Hera’s mind by pleasanter thoughts.

As the evening wore on, however, I myself again became very far from happy. I did not know much about rigor mortis, but I knew enough to realise that, if Carbridge were as stiff as I reckoned he was, he could have been dead for hours. This was very puzzling. I attempted to remember all that I had read about rigor mortis. My partner Alexander Storey and I run a literary agency which had been set up by Sandy’s father and one or two of our clients write crime fiction, so, to that extent, I have had to undertake a certain amount of reading-up on forensic medicine in order to check the information given in the story before we send the book to a publisher.

To become as stiff as the corpse over which I had stumbled in that blacked-out passage, the man would have been dead for about twelve hours or even longer, for, so far as my recollection of my reading took me, the rigor, once completely established, could last another twelve hours until it began to pass off in the third twelve-hour period.

‘It doesn’t make sense,’ I told myself. Carbridge had left the hotel at about eight that morning and I had found the body not more than ten hours later. Well, allowing for the individual vagaries of its onset, I supposed that it would have been just about possible for the corpse to have stiffened in that space of time, but the legs, with their powerful muscles, were always the last parts of the body to be affected, and it was his foot and leg that I had stumbled against and then touched. They had been as rigid as marble.

I had another try at working out the times. With Jane Minch in tow and her sore feet, Carbridge could not have travelled all that much faster than we did. We had stopped for lunch, but, presumably, so had the others. It did not seem possible that Carbridge could have been dead for more than a few hours. Further speculation seemed useless. I tried to tell myself that it was not Carbridge I had found, but it was of no use. True, I had had only a glimpse of a grossly distorted face, but the jeans and the anorak the man was wearing were identical to the clothes Carbridge had been wearing when last I had seen him alive.