Dandy Gilver and a Bothersome Number of Corpses (40 page)

‘She’ll dine out on it for years,’ he said. ‘So the mistresses – the crooked ones – bump up the marks?’

‘Worse than that,’ I said. ‘I think they do the work. I never could understand why the mistresses were always burning the midnight oil while the girls were draped around like temple nymphs. Or why the mistresses were writing in black ink, and not red pencil. Or needed so many textbooks and dictionaries just for marking. Constable, if you shut down such a hotbed of blackmail and corruption, it might even offset the – um – borrowing of Mrs Turner’s motorcar.’

‘Depends what’s waiting for us at the other end o’ this,’ Reid said, and all my triumph at solving the riddle of St Columba’s was gone again. No one was dying there. No one was drowning. Nothing but fairness and justice was harmed. When I thought about Mrs Aldo and what might have been done to Fleur in the time Joe Aldo had had to do it, I fell silent again. My silence spread to the other two and now, in the moonlight, five miles from the lodge, all three of us were wound like watch springs, champing to be out of this rattling, fizzing little machine and dreading what we would find when we arrived.

‘Corner coming, right,’ I said and Reid made another of his sickening two-wheel turns. The chassis sounded like a falling load of scrap metal as the other two wheels hit the ground again. ‘I take it back,’ I said. ‘Alec please put the hood down and let me have some air.’

‘Midges,’ Alec said.

‘They can have me,’ I groaned. ‘There’s a crossroads in less than a mile, William. You want the left turn and it’s a sharp one.’

‘How come you ken this place so well, missus?’ Reid asked me.

‘Shooting,’ I said, through clenched teeth. ‘Friends of ours used to take the next place along for the deer.’ In truth, I knew the twists and reversals of the road because every time Hugh and I had travelled it I had sat in a mulish huff about the dripping black pines and the humpback bridges. I could not see the point of leaving Gilverton for somewhere – in my estimation – even worse.

At least it was not dripping tonight, and with the moon glaring down it was not really all that black either, but I anticipated something a great deal more hellish than dull company and a day’s dreary shooting at the end of the road.

‘Gates,’ I said, spotting them, and we were off the road with one final twist of the steering wheel and rocketing silently on the deep cushion of pine needles which covered the drive, down and down to the lodge at the water’s edge.

‘He’s here!’ shouted Alec, seeing just before I did the motorcar pulled off the lane at the edge of the carriage sweep. ‘That was Donaldson’s car for sure.’

‘Aye, he’s here,’ said Reid and for the first time I heard a shake in his voice, not only caused by the rattling up his arms of an engine under strain. We were old hands at this caper, Alec and I, but what did Reid know of chasing a murderer down in the night and capturing him?

‘House is dark,’ I said. The stones of the lodge were pale and glinting in the moonlight the way that granite can, but every window showed a black, blank gaze of emptiness. Reid killed the engine and the little Mercury, creaking and steaming, slowed and stopped on the gravel. We sat still and listened. The silence was absolute, a perfect endless silence with no breath of wind, no lap of waves, not so much as the call of an owl or the crack of a twig.

‘Has he a gun?’ said Reid and his voice, once again, was trembling.

‘Shouldn’t have thought so,’ Alec whispered back.

‘He’s had plenty of time to find the guns in the house, though,’ I put in and then wished I had not, for there we sat, the three of us, in a motorcar with the top down in the middle of the gravel in the bright blare of moonlight and any of those black windows could have Aldo behind them, watching.

‘Let’s get under cover,’ said Alec and opening his door he slid out and ran, hunched over and scuttling, into the shadow of the trees. I followed him, calling softly to Reid to do the same.

‘He can’t be in there,’ Alec said when the three of us were huddled under the draping arm of a cedar, breathing in the sweet scent of its bark and sharp tang of its needles under our feet. ‘He had a perfect shot at us then. Like wooden ducks at the fairground.’

‘Now he tells us!’ said Reid, with some of his old vigour. I rewarded him with a chuckle – anything to keep his courage up – and sat back against the tree.

‘So what shall we do?’ I said.

‘If we could find the gun room . . .’ said Alec.

I took a deep breath before replying. His suggestion, not quite made out loud but strongly implied, was a good one. I had never shot so much as a hare and the thought of shooting a man, even a man as conniving and evil as Giuseppe Aldo, was a monstrosity to me. William Reid too was surely too young to have been in the war and Alec’s plan would change his innocent life for ever if things went that way. But what else was there for it?

‘I suppose I should say that this place looks exactly the same as Corrie Dubh, up the road,’ I said. ‘David Bryce’s best Scotch Baronial. He turned them out like muffins, you know.’

‘Eh?’ said Reid.

‘I know where the gun room is at Corrie Dubh,’ I said. ‘So I think I could find it here. Of course breaking down the door will bring him running . . .’ I hoped that one of them would agree and stop me, but neither did.

So, still bent double and keeping close to the trees, I led them around the side of the house to the yard door. If I was right about the floorplan, the gun room should be just along the corridor beyond it. Internal, of course, no window to smash for entry, but the yard door had a top half of glass and Alec took off his shoe in readiness.

‘All right?’ he said.

‘Wait!’ I whispered. ‘Might as well . . .’ I tried the handle, turned it and the door swung open.

Alec laughed softly and put his shoe on again.

We had run out of luck, though. The gun-room door, although just where I thought it would be, was locked and the key nowhere to be seen. Alec sent Reid to the corner of the corridor as a lookout and shoved me into an alcove for safety and then, taking off his coat, he put his shoulder to the door and gave it a mighty thump. It sent him staggering back a few steps without emitting anything like a crack or splinter which would hint at submission.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘That was just a tester.’ I did not quite believe him, but with his next assault he took a run at the thing and made a kind of roar as he connected. With a metallic ping the lock gave way and the door burst open, sending Alec sprawling into the gun room to land heavily on his side. Reid rushed from the corner and I shooed him in like a mother hen, then followed, slammed the door and pulled a nearby cabinet in front of it.

‘God damn it to hell,’ said Alec, rolling on his back. ‘I think I’ve broken something.’

‘Your turn, darling,’ I said, thinking of the time I had skidded down a staircase in pursuit of a murderer and smashed my ankle. ‘What?’

‘Rib,’ Alec said, sitting up and groaning.

Reid was listening at the door.

‘No sound o’ nothin’,’ he said. ‘Mind you, it’s a big house.’

‘Right then,’ I said. ‘Reid, keep listening. I’m switching on the lights, but if you hear anyone coming you hiss and I’ll switch them right back off again.’ I clicked the switch and blinked against the sudden brightness.

The doors of the gun cupboards were all closed and the little cabinet – for shot – which I had moved in front of the door was padlocked. I went round swiftly, rattling the handles, and peering through the grilles.

‘There’s nothing missing,’ I said. ‘I don’t think he’s been in here.’

‘Good,’ said Alec. He shuffled over to a desk which stood near where he had fallen and hauled himself to his feet. ‘So he doesn’t have a gun. Pity, because I’m not up to a brawl this evening. Ow! Two ribs, at least. Bloody agony, but only if you breathe, as they say.’

‘So where are the keys for the guns?’ I said, wondering aloud more than asking.

‘Depends how fussy they are,’ Alec said.

‘No’ very,’ said Reid. ‘Wi’ that yard door not locked.’

‘Yes,’ I said. That was bothering me. I went out into the corridor again and along to where it stood open. I stepped out into the yard and crossed it. Beyond the gate a path led down to the jetty and I could see the sea loch, shining still and silver; high tide on a windless moonlit night and it was a mirror lying there. I gazed, then squinted, and then I began to run. There was a little boat out in the open and a figure in it, sitting so still that not a ripple disturbed the reflection of the moon in the water.

‘Alec!’ I shouted as I went. ‘Reid!’

The figure had heard me and moved, I knew, for all round the boat suddenly the perfect image of the moon and trees broke and shimmered. I ran to the jetty, right to the end and peered across the water. Behind me came the pelting footsteps of the constable and then Alec, shuffling and swearing.

‘Who is it?’ I said. ‘There’s only one. Is it Aldo? Has he killed her and taken her body out there to dump it?’

‘If he has, he’s put her frock on,’ said Reid. His young eyes had picked out more than mine. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. ‘Miss Lipscott, you’re all right. We—’

Fleur stood and then even I could see it was her, in her dress with her hair down her back.

‘Fleur, darling,’ I shouted. ‘Row to shore—
No
!’

Fleur had gone. She had simply stepped over the side of the little boat and dropped into the water.

‘Alec, wincing, had started taking off his waistcoat and kicking out of his shoes, but his face was shining with perspiration and his breath was ragged.

‘Reid!’ I said, turning to where the constable stood frozen.

‘I cannae swim,’ he said. I could have slapped him.

‘You— You pick drowned fishermen out of the sea all the time!’ I shouted. ‘How can you not swim?’

‘Fisherfolk never learn to swim,’ Reid said. ‘It’s bad luck.’

I tore off my hat and coat, my dress, my shoes and my petticoats too and in my chemise and stockings, before I could give myself time to think, I jumped off the jetty into the icy water.

It was so cold that my shoulders seized up around my neck and I was only paddling forward by inches, so I turned on my back, looked up and prayed for strength and courage. I prayed to Hugh, who swam in Loch Ordie every morning between May and October, to Nanny Palmer who took a cold bath until she turned ninety and had a shower machine put in, and to my old childhood self, with Pearl and Aurora and Fleur, jumping in and out of the tide at Watchet all day long.

Then I turned back over and started swimming.

I warmed a little with the exertion, or numbed perhaps, but I made it to the boat anyway and rounded it. She had not sunk and was not struggling. I could see her floating face-down with her hair fanned out and that wicked, disgusting picture of Ophelia flashed in my mind once again. I swam up and grabbed her.

‘Floribunda, don’t you dare, you little monkey,’ I said through chattering teeth. ‘Your mother will die of grief and your sisters will never smile again.’

She had reared up, spluttering, and now she flicked her hair out her eyes and splashed frantically, trying to get away from me.

‘I killed him,’ she said. ‘I killed him.’

‘You didn’t kill anyone, Fleur,’ I told her.

‘I killed him, I killed him.’

I surged forward and grabbed her round the neck under one arm, then I turned us both onto our backs and with my free hand I made for the shore. She was limp against me and I could hear her muttering on and on, through her chattering teeth: ‘I killed him. I killed him.’

‘You’re killing
me
,’ I shouted. ‘Try to swim, darling.’

I spoke lightly but I was terrified. My arm was heavier and weaker with every stroke and we were no longer on the surface but low in the water, our legs deep down into the chill. I took a breath and a mouthful of water came in with it.

‘Fleur, please!’ I begged, trying to shake her. She was a dead weight under my arm. I put my mouth beside her ear and yelled at her.

‘Sabbatina needs you!’

She flailed then and her head rose, but it was too late.

‘We’re sink—’ I said and the water closed over my head and I was falling.

My hair seemed to rip at the roots as a hand took hold of my head, then an arm was under my back, and then I was bent over the side of a boat, with my top half shivering in the air and my legs still dragging in the water. I opened my mouth and a gush of cold poured out. Alec hauled me with his one good arm until I lay on the floor of the dinghy like a load of wet washing, watching Constable Reid hang over the side with his boots wedged under the bench to keep him anchored.

Up he came, with nothing, and dragged in a tearing breath before he plunged under again, so deep that the boat lurched over until the cold water was slopping in. And up he came. And he had a foot and a leg and then her hips and her arms and her coughing, choking, head and she was in the bottom of the boat beside me and weeping there.

‘We found another boat,’ said Alec. ‘Obviously.’

‘I killed him,’ Fleur whimpered. ‘I killed him.’

‘You killed no one,’ I said, mumbling through my numb lips. ‘You poor darling, you lost your father and your lover and your friend—’

‘Body heat’s the thing,’ Alec said. ‘But I can hardly move. Grab my legs, Dandy. Better than nothing.’

‘Ch-charles wanted to d-drive my car,’ chittered Fleur. ‘And he was intoxicated. Not drink. D-drugs, Dandy, and I bought them! Leigh wanted to try something new.’

‘You didn’t shove them down his neck or hers,’ I said.

‘I f-fell out when it hit the tree,’ she said. ‘I tried to get them out.’

‘Of course, you did, you good girl,’ I said.

‘I’m not a g-good girl,’ she cried. ‘I killed him.’

‘And then you saw that wretched Elf take the coward’s way out right in front of your eyes, didn’t you?’ She nodded, fast and shivering. ‘And Giuseppe Aldo was a cold-hearted devil of a man. You told him straight, my love. I read your letter. He killed his wife, not you.’

‘I know,’ said Fleur. ‘He m-murdered her. For me. I didn’t kill anyone in a b-battle or a crash or a suicide. I know that now, because I k-k-killed
him
.’