Snare (21 page)

‘Making allowances for the chauvinist attitude, I do. Is that significant, that the relationship was one-sided?'

‘That depends. Would you say that the nurse is unbalanced?'

‘No. Infatuated, perhaps; I'd leave it at that.'

He stood up as Beatrice entered, flustered because he wasn't taking any refreshment, thinking it had not been offered. Having got that straight, she asked diffidently if he had come for another interview. Pagan said he was just passing, and turned back to Miss Pink. ‘Have you thought of anything I should know?'

She looked meaningly at Beatrice who blinked, refusing her cue. Miss Pink spoke for her. ‘Campbell said he recognised Hamish as the intruder at his cottage.' Pagan listened without comment as she elaborated, but halfway through the explanation she said petulantly, ‘This doesn't surprise you.'

‘No, ma'am. We knew enough about the so-called practical jokes and about young Hamish to have him down as a suspect for that fire.'

‘And did you suspect that it was Hamish who broke into Camas Beag to phone an accomplice after the fire – and before Campbell was murdered?'

‘No,' Pagan said slowly. ‘I hadn't thought of that. An accomplice – to what?'

‘Well, we were saying,' Beatrice put in chattily, ‘would Campbell be murdered just because he'd seen Hamish break into a car?'

‘No, but if something more than theft was involved ...' Pagan left that hanging and reverted to the accomplice. ‘So you reckon this other person wasn't in the neighbourhood?'

‘Do we?' Miss Pink asked. ‘We hadn't speculated.'

‘He made a telephone call after the fire and before Campbell was killed,' Pagan repeated. Was he asking for advice – or orders? Or bringing in his accomplice? That boy couldn't have overpowered a grown man, surely?'

‘Oh, no.' Beatrice was firm. ‘Campbell didn't look strong but he was wiry, and much heavier than a boy of course.'

‘He brought in an accomplice from elsewhere,' Pagan mused. ‘Yet another point in young Alec's favour.'

They stared at him. Miss Pink laughed. ‘You haven't been interviewing Alec!'

‘The whole family. It was hard work, but I think we got the picture quicker than if we'd taken them separately. Alec says in all seriousness that he'd intended to kill Hamish but he changed his mind. His mother thinks he's accusing himself – virtually confessing – and tells a lie every time she speaks, to be contradicted by Alec immediately. The father walked out after five minutes.'

‘Good.' Miss Pink's tone was absent. ‘This business is far too sophisticated for Alec.'

‘What business?' Beatrice asked.

Miss Pink looked at Pagan. ‘Well, what is it? What's the crime behind the murders, the motive for them? You must have considered possibilities, however remote.'

'I'll leave that to you ladies.' He was trying to sound gallant. ‘Your minds are fertile enough. Me, I'm working from the other end. I've got two bodies; I'm trying to discover who struck the final blows to each, and where Hamish's body was kept until it was put in the sea last night, on an ebb tide. At any other time, it would have come back.'

The ladies refrained from looking at each other. ‘When do you expect the results of the second autopsy?' Miss Pink asked.

‘Soon, ma'am; a preliminary report, anyway. The body was flown out from Morvern. But I'm not expecting a lot from that direction. A rough time of death possibly; we know he had a hamburger at nine o'clock, but as for where the body was kept between whiles, I doubt those rough seas will have washed away every trace.'

After he'd gone, they stood on the gravelled sweep enjoying the bliss of soft air and sunshine after the gales.

‘Lovely walking weather,' Beatrice said wistfully.

‘Why not?' Miss Pink was suddenly forceful. ‘There can't be any risk in broad daylight with two of us. Let's stroll along the lighthouse road.'

‘Lovely. We have time. That was Coline on the telephone. She wants us to eat there tonight; a council of war, she says.'

‘What's she got in mind?'

‘Obviously the same subject as all of us, but it will be interesting to have a fresh light on it. You're looking doubtful. Oh, I see; we shall be out after dark.'

‘I hadn't got that far; what I was thinking is that we still have no idea who killed Hamish.'

‘He could be here, in Sgoradale – still?'

Miss Pink sighed at such innocence. ‘He could be at the lodge.'

‘That's in poor taste, Melinda.'

‘So were the murders.'

Before those faded old eyes Miss Pink conceded defeat, 'I'll pick you up and bring you home,' she said. ‘And we'll drive with locked doors. Even Pagan can't object to that.'

* * *

That afternoon the sky was clear of clouds and the sun was warm. ‘We'll have a frost tonight,' Beatrice said as they crossed the bridge.

Miss Pink sniffed the air and agreed. They entered the North Wood, which was curiously light now that the storms had stripped much of the foliage. Sky showed through slim trunks of birch and ash and as they reached the first little house, hens were scratching for worms on the muddy verge. A plume of smoke rose from a chimney. It was all refreshingly pastoral, a blessed relief after the violence – human and elemental – of the last few days. Beyond the house they heard laughter and, looking up, saw two riders dashing across the wooded slope. A man shouted, there was a shriek; in quick succession the horses leapt an unseen obstacle and raced on.

Miss Pink was astonished. ‘They're on a track,' Beatrice said.

‘That has to be Flora, but who's the man?' it's certainly not Ranald; he can't ride like that.'

Are there guests at the lodge?'

‘Coline didn't say so. Could it be one of those reporters?'

'It could be. Flora's capable of fraternising with anyone.'

It wasn't a reporter, but the police. Towards the end of the afternoon they were returning from the lighthouse when they heard the beat of hooves approaching fast, and they spun round to halt as the riders bore down on them. They pulled up, holding their excited horses with ease: Flora and Detective Sergeant Steer.

Miss Pink was totally at a loss. Beatrice said, ‘How nice to see you home again, Flora. And you've got Mr Steer to help you with the exercising.'

‘He's investigating,' Flora said. ‘He has to go all over the place; we've been to Lone, Fair Point, all the ruins, and now it's Camas Beag. I'm his guide; he couldn't get to those places without a horse, and couldn't find them without me.' She glanced at Steer, then studied his mount. ‘We'll have to go slow,' she said. ‘We're getting close to home and he's sweating like a pig.'

Steer nodded, watching her, ignoring the ladies.

‘Where did you learn to ride?' Miss Pink asked.

He switched his attention with an effort. ‘My dad was a stud groom, ma'am. We lived on the premises. I was brought up with horses.'

‘He's mad,' Flora said. ‘He thinks he's on a hunter. He'd be jumping walls if I didn't stop him.' Steer blinked lazily. ‘Wouldn't you?' she pressed. His lips moved, sketching a smile. Flora held the look a moment longer and said casually but with a sigh, as if they were children obeying the grown-ups' orders, ‘So now it's Camas Beag. Hamish called me one night when I was in Edinburgh and I reckon he made the call from there.'

‘Called
you?
' Miss Pink repeated stupidly. ‘Well, he couldn't tell anyone else, was how he put it. He'd fired the keeper's cottage. Talk about going over the top!'

‘You didn't mention this when I brought you home from Buffy MacLean's place.'

‘I didn't know, did I? All I knew was he'd been caught red-handed, left his prints behind and had had to burn the place down. I wasn't going to shop him. Now he's been murdered, so there's no more point in protecting him. Might as well tell the fuzz, make a clean breast of it.' She looked defiantly at Steer. ‘Wouldn't have told you in the ordinary way.'

Steer grinned weakly. Miss Pink stared at him.

‘Why did Hamish turn to you?' Beatrice asked Flora.

‘He needed someone to intercede with Mum, I guess – and I was by way of being his employer.'

‘How did he find your telephone number?' Miss Pink asked.

‘He knew who I was staying with. Neil Fleming's a famous criminal lawyer and everyone knows I went to school with his daughter.'

Steer glanced at his watch. ‘We'd better get on to this cottage,' he said uneasily.

‘Ride on,' Flora directed, ‘I'll catch you up.' When he was out of earshot Miss Pink said, ‘You've seduced that poor fellow.'

‘In a manner of speaking,' Beatrice added. Flora looked after him, wrinkling her nose. ‘He's a bit rough, but there's room for improvement. Did I say something I shouldn't? Of course, I know Pagan sent him with me so's he could pump me. Did I give anything away?'

‘Go on as you are,' Miss Pink said. ‘You're doing fine. By the way, how long had you known that Hamish was the car thief?'

‘Not till he phoned me; didn't I say? I don't think it ever crossed my mind that it could be him. He didn't need the money; there's nothing to spend it on in Sgoradale and he never went anywhere. Perhaps he was saving up for something.' She gathered her reins.
‘Are
you coming to our place tonight? Mum said something.'

‘Flora!' She checked as Miss Pink stepped forward. ‘What's Steer been doing this afternoon?'

‘“Following the victim's movements,” he says. And trying to find out where the body was kept.' Flora looked across the loch with a face like flint. ‘I'm interested in that too.' The pony leapt away down the grass verge, flying over drainage ditches – Flora sitting like a centaur, collecting Steer as she went.

‘She'll bring them home steaming,' Beatrice said with disapproval. ‘That young man's head over heels in love. Isn't that an odd thing to happen?'

‘Policemen are human. Look at Knox – and Flora is in a different league from Anne Wallace.'

‘But Steer is supposed to be investigating a murder.'

‘Violent death can be an aphrodisiac, or so I've heard.' They were walking again, Miss Pink staring at the ground. After a few minutes Beatrice asked what she was thinking.

‘I was wondering if she was speaking the truth when she implied that Hamish wanted her to intercede with her mother. It seems more likely he'd be asking her for something tangible, like money.' She was silent for a few moments and when she spoke again she had changed gear. ‘I wonder if he could have killed Campbell on his own after all? Although we mustn't forget that the fact that he
wasn't
phoning an accomplice from Camas Beag doesn't mean he didn't have one.'

‘If he did, why didn't he confide in that person instead of phoning Flora?'

‘Because Flora had money, or access to money? Because his accomplice didn't have any, or wouldn't part with it?'

‘Why should Flora part with it?'

‘You mean, why should he think Flora would let him have money?'

‘All that is hypothetical. Flora didn't mention money.'

‘You're enjoying this,' Miss Pink said, smiling. ‘You're getting involved.'

‘Only intellectually. I find it stimulating.'

‘Then keep your eyes and ears open tonight. We might, as the lawyers say, hear something to our advantage.'

By six o'clock the sun had set and the sky beyond the mouth of the loch held a pearly sheen smudged with rose. Across the shimmering water a line of cormorants hurried to their roosts on the islands.

‘What about Mary MacLeod?' Beatrice asked as they drove along the street, is she alone tonight?'

‘I doubt it.' Miss Pink braked for a strolling cat. ‘She'll be with the Millars or old Sinclair. But she's not in danger.'

‘What makes you so sure of that?'

‘The murders were connected with the practical jokes. Mary had none played on her.'

‘So far as you know. And I thought we were agreed that knowledge of the car thefts – which weren't jokes – was insufficient motive for murder.'

‘There was a connection.'

As they came up the drive the tower showed in the headlights; the forecourt was empty of cars. The family was gathered in the drawing room; everyone had dressed for dinner but no one looked dressy and the group had an air of sombre respectability.

‘How are the Knoxes bearing up?' Ranald asked, bringing sherry to the guests.

‘There's no way of knowing,' Beatrice said. All our information comes by way of the police, and Flora will have more from that source.'

‘They're coming up for drinks,' Flora said. ‘Pagan and Steer?' Miss Pink couldn't hide her surprise.

‘I invited Steer,' Flora explained, ‘and he was uneasy about accepting, so I said to bring his boss as well.'

‘Common courtesy,' Coline said. ‘We should set an example. Haven't you had them along for drinks?'

‘One asks them to have a drink if they're there,' Beatrice said, ‘but is it etiquette to issue a formal invitation to men investigating a murder? It could be thought that you wanted something from them.'

‘I do,' Flora said. ‘Steer's going to be useful with the ponies.' Seeing their expressions, she shifted ground. ‘OK, he told me what's happening. It's wild! Not just this case, but all the cases he's worked on. My mind's made up, Melinda; I'm definitely going to be a crime reporter.'

‘It's rewarding to find someone who knows what she wants,' Miss Pink said. ‘And what conclusions have you – and they – come to about this crime?'

She looked solemn. ‘There's evidence to suggest a connection between the deaths –'