My Bones Will Keep

Chapter 11

The Big House Again

‘There sometimes doth a leaping fish

Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;

The crags repeat the ravens’ croak

In symphony austere.’

Wordsworth

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‘NOW,’ said Macbeth, when they were seated in a well-furnished room whose windows overlooked the loch, ‘what will be your business with me?’

‘The death of the Laird of Tannasgan, whose house this was,’ Dame Beatrice replied. He looked at her out of his very bright blue eyes and puffed out smoke from the pipe he had filled and lighted.

‘What had you to do with the laird?’ he asked at last.

‘Nothing.’ Dame Beatrice gave back look for look.

‘Then his death will be none of your business.’

‘I do not endorse that opinion.’

‘Your reason?’

‘Mrs Gavin here, my secretary and close friend, may have been in this house, or, at any rate, in this neighbourhood, when the murder was committed. What is more, she has been followed and accosted by a man who was here at the same time as herself. He wants her to give him an alibi for the time of the murder – or thereabouts – and had made a considerable nuisance of himself.’

There was another interval of silence. Macbeth, his eyes now veiled, puffed away. Dame Beatrice waited. Laura, who had received no cue, stared at the carpet.

‘You wish me to say that I am prepared to co-operate with you?’ asked the red-bearded man at last. ‘I’ll need to give thought to that. I was bidden here by the laird. Did you ken that I was his cousin?’

‘No, that is news to me.’

‘And I am his heir.’

‘I see. That could mean that you had an interest of a selfish kind of his death.’

‘It could. Well, now, I hold to my opinion that you are meddling, but if it will rid me of your company to speir at me what I know, then speir away.’

‘You have been questioned by the police?’

‘I have that.’

‘With what result?’

‘They went away very discontented. I was just no help at all.’

‘Deliberately?’

‘No, no. There was nothing helpful that I could tell them. They speired at me where had the laird been, if, as I told them – and it’s the truth – he was away from home all that day. I told them that I was not in the laird’s confidence. Then I had to give an account in detail of my actions from the time I came to Tannasgan until the time of the death.’

‘Did you tell them that I was here for part of that time?’ asked Laura.

‘I did not. The death was nothing to do with a young lass like yourself.’

‘Very chivalrous of you to say so, but wouldn’t it have been wiser to have mentioned my visit? It’s going to be a bit awkward for you if it comes out now – perhaps for me, too.’

‘Havers!’ He gave the word all the contempt in the world.

‘I don’t think it’s nonsense,’ said Laura. ‘You see, I thought it as well to go to them and give them a full account of what I did and where I went that evening. I told them that I was here, and that you gave me food and shelter. Of course, I didn’t know your name, but I described you and the others, so, even if I were willing to keep quiet about it, I shouldn’t be able to now. If they question me, it’s bound to involve you.’

‘I see that. There’s the fellow who followed you and spoke to you, of course.’

‘And the other fellow, who gave me a lift to Freagair that same night. He knows I was here. He can confirm my story. And there’s the first fellow, the one who got me on to the island.’

‘Ay.’ He continued his furious puffing while he pondered. ‘I would advise you to communicate with the police and get them to deal with him. A man like that might be dangerous.’

Laura decided to change the subject.

‘It was you playing the bagpipes that night, I suppose?’

‘Your supposition is perfectly correct. Did you like my playing?’

‘Well, it was a useful cover while I got away from this house. In any case, I always like the sound of the pipes.’

‘And now,’ said Dame Beatrice briskly, ‘what about this account you’re going to give us of all that took place on Tannasgan and at An Tigh Mór on the day that Mrs Gavin turned up on the shore of the loch? You were good enough to take her in and give her food and shelter, but on that same night your cousin was killed and his body put into a barrel.’

‘Och, that!’ There was another long silence, then he said, drawing his thick brows together, ‘In a barrel was where he belonged, the drunken stot! Whisky Johnny should have been his name. But his death and the manner of it is the business of the police, and neither themselves nor you will get any more out of me than I’m prepared to tell. And what I dinna ken I canna tell, now can I?’

‘At least tell us one thing,’ said Laura.

‘And what would that be?’

‘Is this Loch na Gréine? – and is this house An Tigh Mór?’

He looked at her and put on a crafty smile.

‘You must just please yourself,’ he replied. ‘Maybe they are—and maybe they’re not. And now, if you’ll just excuse me, I have work to do.’

‘Will you allow us to borrow a boat to cross the loch?’

‘Ay. Tie up on the other side and somebody will be back to bring it over. How did you get here?’

‘I swam and then I rowed back for the others.’

‘You did? I kenned you were a braw lassie as soon as I set eyes on you. You swam, eh? Well, well, I’ll no insist that you swim back.’

With this he leaned back in his great armchair and closed his eyes. Laura glanced at Dame Beatrice and they walked to the front door and joined George who, spanner in hand, was keeping guard under the front windows. He seemed relieved to see them.

He rowed them across the loch and handed them out on to the little stone jetty. Soon all three were in the car. He turned it, with infinite care, on the rough grass and on to the road, and Laura, who was on the right-hand side of the back seat, glanced out. On the other side of the water stood a man, but it was not Macbeth. For a moment Laura could not place him, then it came to her who he was. She was about to draw the attention of Dame Beatrice to his presence, when he ducked into the boathouse and was lost in the shadows.

Dame Beatrice, who missed nothing, had noticed him, however.

‘So there was one more person on Tannasgan than we realised,’ she said. ‘I wonder whether the manservant Corrie was in the house after all?’

‘That isn’t Corrie,’ said Laura. ‘Corrie is older and shorter than that. No, that’s the young man I told you about – the one who met me in the rain and rather – well, it was a nerve, really – insisted on sending me over to Tannasgan. He was on the mainland side then, of course, and worked the signal and rang the bell to bring the boat over. I had no notion that he was actually connected with the place, though. I assumed he was out for a walk and had been caught in the storm, like me. In fact, I think, looking back, that I imagined he was going to cross the loch, too, and try to get shelter, but, when he walked off, I suppose I concluded he had a place of his own near at hand, or else was so wet that he couldn’t get any wetter.’

‘I wonder what, if any, his part is in the drama? Everything in this little adventure seems more than a little odd.’

‘Absolutely off-beat.’

‘This new friend, I must say, intrigues me. I wonder whether it was chivalry, or something much less admirable, which caused him to expedite your first visit to An Tigh Mór?’

‘Goodness knows! Anyway, there doesn’t seem any doubt that he believed I would be received and warmed and fed – unless he expected me to take shelter in the boathouse. However, old Macbeth took care of all that. You know, in spite of the battiness and the guile, I believe that old man possesses a sense of humour.’

‘Indeed? It may be a macabre one, though, don’t you think?’

‘Oh, you’re thinking of the body in the barrel, but there’s no evidence yet that he put it there.’

‘I agree.’ There was silence while both stared ahead, engaged in thought and surmise, then Dame Beatrice added, ‘This furtive young man we’ve just seen interests me very strangely. He is quite a new factor in the case.’

‘The nigger in the woodpile, you mean? We’ve nothing whatever to go on in suspecting that, though, have we?’

‘No. All the same, I am glad I caught a glimpse of him.’

‘Would you know him again, do you think?’

‘Certainly I should. I saw him quite distinctly.’

‘You know, Mrs Croc. the more I think about it, the more certain I am that he had some ulterior motive in sending me over to Tannasgan that evening. By the way, where are we going next?’

‘Back to Mrs Grant. There are points which she must clear up.’

‘Such as which island really is Tannasgan?’

Dame Beatrice did not reply, but gave George directions. George eased the car on to the single-track road and they went westwards, and slightly north, on the way to Mrs Grant’s lonely and cut-off house. Nobody was at home.

Laura ceased hammering on the front door and tried the handle, but the door was locked.

‘Stymied,’ she observed. ‘Now what do we do?’

D ame Beatrice was saved from the necessity of replying by the arrival of a station wagon driven by a man whom Laura recognised as the passenger to Inverness whom she had met in the rain at the station. It seemed at least three months since she had seen him. He pulled up behind George, who was still in the driving-seat of Dame Beatrice’s car, and got out, raising his tweed hat with a smile of recognition.

‘Hullo,’ said Laura. ‘We came along hoping for a chat with your wife, but she seems to have gone shopping or something.’

‘No, no, she’s away to her mother in Dingwall. Did you want her for anything in particular? I have to thank you for driving her home that bad night.’

‘I was the lucky one. She put me up,’ said Laura. She glanced at Dame Beatrice. ‘This is Mr Grant. Mr Grant, Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley, my boss.’

They acknowledged the introduction and Laura received a slight nod from her employer which she interpreted as an indication that she was to carry on the conversation. Before she could do so, Grant spoke, producing, as he did so, a latch-key.

‘Do please come in,’ he said, and opened the door. ‘I hope my wife has left us a fire.’

This, it appeared, was the case. A good fire was glowing red in the dining-room and a basket of peats and a scuttle of coal stood one on either side of it Grant tossed his hat and driving-gloves on to a chair, advanced to the fire and put coal on it.

‘And now, do you sit down while I find the whisky,’ he said. He produced whisky, a syphon and a decanter. ‘Maybe ladies would prefer sherry?’

Laura accepted the whisky, Dame Beatrice the sherry. Their host joined Laura and solemnly wished them good health.

‘And now,’ said Laura, ‘we came to ask a question of Mrs Grant, but I expect you can answer it. You’ll have heard of the death of the laird of Tannasgan?’

‘I have that. Nothing else is talked of around these parts. We get little excitement hereabouts as a rule.’

‘Well, I’ve been mixed up in it all.’

‘You don’t tell me!’

‘I have, in a way.’ Briefly she told the story of her adventures after she had left Mrs Grant for the first time. She concluded by saying, ‘So, you see, we’re wondering whether the island we’ve just left is Tannasgan, or whether the dead laird used to live somewhere else and was murdered on his cousin’s estate.’

‘That,’ said Grant, ‘is very easily settled. There is nothing I need attend to at the moment, so why don’t we go along and see? From your description I would say that you have certainly been across Loch na Gréine and on Tannasgan, but there’s nothing like making sure. Shall we go in your car? Then your man can show me where it is you want to take me.’

‘Certainly,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘George knows the way.’

Grant nodded and then asked: ‘What did you say yon man calls himself?’

‘Malcolm Donalbain Macbeth.’

‘Oh, ay. That will be a pseudonym, no doubt.’

‘It seems rather more than likely.’

‘A red-headed, red-bearded man?’

‘Yes, and of pretty hefty build and about five foot ten in height,’ said Laura ‘An odd bod in many respects, but likeable, I thought. Drinks whisky, sometimes to excess, and has a fixation on fabulous beasts.’

Grant finished his drink, and poured himself another.

‘I don’t know him,’ he said. ‘Let me give you a wee drop more whisky.’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Then some more sherry for you, ma’am?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Right. Then let us be on our way. It’s curious I am to see this island of yours.’ He drank off the dram he had poured for himself and heaved himself out of his chair. I’ll not trouble to fasten the door, although the lassie who’s to look to me has a key.’

A point occurred to Laura. The servant was no longer afraid to be left with her master while the wife was away from home. So much was clear, but the significance of it, if any, eluded her. She led the way to Dame Beatrice’s car and addressed the stocky chauffeur.

‘Back to that island, George. We’re taking Mr Grant to vet it for us, to make sure it really is Tannasgan.’

‘I shall have to move my bus,’ said Grant. ‘It’s blocking your man’s way out.’ He climbed into the station wagon and backed it as far as the bridge. In the ooze of the river bank he brought it out of the way of the other car. George reversed until he found room to turn, picked up Grant and drove cautiously on to the narrow, winding road.

They were soon at the landing-stage opposite Tannasgan. Here Grant leaned back.

‘Yon’s Tannasgan and this is Loch na Gréine,’ he said. ‘You were not deceived. And the Black One was found chained to the jetty, his body in the water, was he not? Well, well! It’s a strange thing, that.’

Laura turned round.

‘Not in the water. In a barrel in the water,’ she said. ‘By the way, what were you doing in Inverness? And why didn’t you come home when you were supposed to? Your wife seemed terribly worried about you.’

If she expected to surprise or discomfit Grant, she was disappointed. He half-closed his eyes and answered:

‘Well, do you see, I was kidnapped.’

Laura found this incredible.

‘But Inverness isn’t Chicago,’ she protested.

‘No, no, Inverness isn’t Chicago,’ he agreed, ‘but kidnapped I was, although not held to ransom. I was released in Tomnahurich Street after being blindfolded before we left the hotel!’

‘What hotel would that have been, I wonder? I know Inverness pretty well, you see, so I’m interested.’

‘The one I always use when my business takes me to Inverness. Maybe you wouldn’t dignify it by the name of hotel, but it’s a most respectable place, or so I always thought. That has been my reason for staying there. However, after I had had my dinner that night, three gentlemen came up as I was drinking my coffee and asked me, with civility, would I make a fourth at bridge. I was willing and went with them to a private sitting-room they’d hired.’

‘In the hotel?’

‘Certainly. It was a room on the second floor, but I did not take note of the number. Well, we played for a couple of hours and I won a few shillings – the stakes were very low, otherwise I would not have played – and then they sent down for drinks and the drinks came up with a bit of a sour face on the waiter because it was late, and the next thing I knew was that I woke up in broad daylight with a splitting headache and a bad taste in my mouth, to find one of the villains at my bedside with a gun in his fist.’

‘ “You’ll stay in this room and we’ll have your meals sent up,” he said.

‘ “Like hell,” I told him.

‘ “Keep your good health,” he said, fingering the gun in a meaningful kind of way. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

‘ “But what’s the idea?” I asked. He shook his head and said he’d be hanged if he knew, but he had his orders. I thought it was something of a shady deal connected with my work and I was to be kept out of the way until it was through. That gave me something to think about. I asked him what was contemplated. He didn’t know, or, if he knew, he wouldn’t say. I asked him whether it had anything to do with the hydro-electrical work I was engaged on. He said it might have, and then, again, it might not. He was only a hired gun and did as he was told and didn’t ask questions.’

‘Didn’t you – couldn’t you reach a bell or anything?’ asked Laura.

‘I could not, without the risk of having a hole blown in me. The fellow seemed amiable enough, but he had an eye like that of a very dead fish and a mouth like a bit of steel cable. I wasn’t prepared to take chances. He must have known that the thought of trying to escape had crossed my mind, though, for he advised me not to try any funny business – those were his words – because the hotel people knew I’d been carried up to bed dead drunk the night before, and had been told that I’d had a nasty knock on the head at work and wasn’t fully responsible for anything I did or said.’

‘He didn’t mention that the laird of Tannasgan had been murdered?’

‘He did not. Anyway, how could he have known? Inverness is a long way from Tannasgan.’

‘No,’ said Laura thoughtfully, ‘he did not know, and the chief reason, apart from what you say, is that it hadn’t happened as soon as that. What did you do when they released you?’

‘Nothing. They escorted me down the stairs and I paid my score at the desk and then all three of them came with the car into which they pushed me and when the car stopped they just told me to get out. I did that, and waited until the car had turned the corner into Ardross Street and then I went to our Inverness office to transact the business I’d come to see about and told them the tale. I could see that they didn’t believe a word of it.’

‘Not surprising, I suppose,’ said Laura, who did not believe a word of it either. ‘Well, if this is Loch na Gréine and that’s Tannasgan, we might as well drive you home.’

‘Which is your own way?’

‘Oh, we shall go back to Crioch. Our plans were uncertain,’ said Dame Beatrice with deliberate vagueness.

‘Drop me there, if you please. I have business to see to in Gàradh. I can get a lift from people I know in Crioch.’

‘He wanted to know where we were staying, I think,’ said Laura, when they had parted from him at double gates which opened on to a gravel slope leading up to the terrace of the hotel. ‘What did you make of his kidnapping tale?’

‘Enough to feel inclined to go to Inverness tomorrow. I wonder whether he has told the police of his experiences?’

‘His alleged experiences. It remains to be discovered what he actually did do after I left him at the station that first wet night. I suppose he did go to Inverness? If you ask me, he’s a pretty fishy customer and I don’t like him very much, at that. Did you notice that he referred to the hydro-electric works again, as though he really has got a job there, whereas we jolly well know he hasn’t?’

‘Yes, I did notice it. Very significant, child.’

‘Can we believe that the island we showed him is Tannasgan?’

‘No, but we can purchase a map in Inverness.’

‘Have to be one of those six-inch things, then, to show anything so small. That is, they’ll show it but will they name it? I don’t know about roses by any other name, but islands are a different matter, and the motoring maps don’t show Tannasgan at all. They don’t even show Loch na Gréine, because I’ve looked. And I’ll tell you what,’ added Laura. I’m beginning to think that there may have been more people on Tannasgan, the first time I was there, than we wot of.’