The Lammas Curse (17 page)

Hare-lip man eyed him warily.
“Aye,” he said.

“The police constable will be
arriving shortly?”

“Aye.”

The doctor realized they could
go on playing silly-buggers all morning. He decided to save time.
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary yesterday, Mr
Shiels?”

“Aye.”

“Could you tell me what that
was?”

Hare-lip finished hanging up
the bridle and bit before replying. “Come outside,” he said,
leading the doctor to a large horse chestnut. “I was relieving
myself, see, here behind this old tree where ‘tis private from the
hotel-like, when I looks round to make sure no one is coming up the
drive and what do I see but Mr Brown hurrying out the front door
and heading to the gate yonder.” He paused and indicated with his
head the wooden gate that led to the kitchen courtyard. “He was
looking over his shoulder to make sure he weren’t being followed
and I thought, aha, he looks like he’s up to something.” He paused
and looked rather proud of himself.

“What did you think he might be
up to?” prompted the doctor.

“Well, the courtyard is where
the lassies go with their cigarette since the missus don’t allow
‘em to smoke in the kitchens, so I presume, yes I presume, Mr Brown
is going to meet one of the lassies.”

“Did you see who he met?”

Hare-lip shook his head. “I
could not see over the top of the wall, but,” he paused and smiled
cunningly, “but I could hear two voices – and the second voice
weren’t no lassie.”

“You mean they were both male
voices?”

“That’s it! So I say to myself
– This is queer, this is - and I am about to open the gate for a
look when Dobbin – Mr Ayr – calls: Come and give me a hand with
Black Bess – she has a loose shoe and is limping!”

“What happened after that?”

“I went with Dobbin to the
stable and before too long we heard young Robbie squeal like a
banshee so we dropped everything and ran for the courtyard. Well,
you could have knocked me over with a feather! I never expected Mr
Brown down the well!”

“If you had to guess – who do
you think the other man in the courtyard could have been?”

Hare-lip scratched his head.
“All I can say is it weren’t a voice from these parts.”

“Not Scottish, you mean?”

“That’s right.”

Dr Watson thanked the ostler,
retrieved his medical bag from the landau and went in search of Mrs
Ardkinglas. She was in the dining room laying the table. The strain
on her face was telling despite the lack of light filtering in
through the small window.

“Will you be staying to lunch,
Dr Watson?”

He was mindful that things were
tight for the widow and politely declined, citing the up-coming
play as an excuse. She had been invited to be part of the audience,
along with Mrs Ross, and was looking forward to the evening. He got
out some cachets for settling nerves and aiding sleep, explained
the correct dosage, then carefully broached the subject of the
murder.

“How many servants do you have
working here?”

“I have had to let most of the
staff go in the last week or two. There are five men who do outside
and three girls who do inside. Ellie does the laundry and the
ironing. Sally, the parlourmaid does all the upstairs and
downstairs rooms and helps to serve the meals. Becky, the scullery
maid, helps with the kitchen chores. I do all the baking and
cooking myself now. I don’t know what I would do if I had more than
two guests as I do at present – oh!” she stopped suddenly and
realised what she’d just said. She no longer had two guests, just
the one. The thought seemed to startle her.

“Could one of the female
servants have observed Mr Brown in the courtyard yesterday whilst
carrying out their chores?”

She picked up a pewter
candlestick and began to give it a mechanical burnish with her
apron. “On any other day it is possible, but yesterday because of
the rehearsals and supper at the castle I knew we would have nowt
for dinner, so I gave the three girls the afternoon off. It was
their first free half day since the golf tournament commenced more
than a month ago. The three of them went into Duns together where
they all have family.”

How convenient – thought the
doctor. Did the man meeting Mr Brown know the female servants would
be having the afternoon off?

“Do any of the girls have a
sweetheart?”

“I suppose there is a point to
your question, Dr Watson, so I will answer you straight. I do not
encourage it and they are far too young. Sally is the eldest at
sixteen, Ellie is fifteen and Becky has just gone thirteen.”

“Irrespective of age, Mrs
Ardkinglas, have you ever seen a man hanging about the place,
perhaps in Crow Wood?”

“Oh, so you have heard the
natter about the poacher. As far as I know Ned is the only one who
has spied him. Ned is not prone to making up stories. If he says he
saw someone in Crow Wood I would believe him.”

Doctor Watson’s voiced
softened. “Please sit down a moment, Mrs Ardkinglas. I am going to
ask you about your husband’s investment in the tea-shipping trade.
Please don’t feel distressed,” he pre-empted noting how she had
been valiantly struggling to keep at bay the tears that were close
to the surface.

“What can that foolish scheme
have to do with anything? That was more than ten years ago.”

The doctor decided to be
nothing less than honest. “I do not know if it has anything to do
with anything at present. All I know is that someone would like the
golf tournament to be cancelled, perhaps even bankrupt Lord
Cruddock. Very little makes sense at this stage so I must follow
all leads no matter how remote they seem.” He waited until she
heaved a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. “I understand your
husband’s family lost a considerable amount of money in the failed
shipping venture?”

She nodded grimly. “They only
just managed to hang onto the family home, but most of the farmland
was sold off along with the family silver and such like.”

“And your sister, Mrs Ross,
lost her life savings?”

Again she nodded. “When my
sister became the housekeeper at Graymalkin she was paid a decent
income and put aside every penny to buy Hamish a commission in one
of the private regiments, but just before Hamish was due to set
off, she lost the lot.”

“Hamish became a ghillie
instead?”

“His lordship took pity for
what had happened and employed Hamish on his estate.”

“Lord Cruddock did not lose any
money in the scheme, is that right?”

Her dark eyes flashed like
lightning against a metallic sky and her voice was bitter and
constrained. “That is right.”

“He sold his share to someone
at the last moment?”

She pursed her lips and nodded
without speaking.

“Do you know who that someone
was?”

“It was his best friend, Mr
Crawford Dee.”

The doctor was unable to hide
his surprise. “The father of Catherine and Carter Dee?”

“Yes, that is what set Mr Dee
on the path to bankruptcy. He tried to recover his losses but it
was one desperate scheme after another, as is the way with luck –
good luck invites good fortune and bad luck breeds more of the
same. He eventually lost everything and shot himself. Lord Cruddock
travelled to South Africa to collect the twins and brought them
back here to Cruddock Castle, he being their god-father. That was
about five years ago.”

“Do you think they hold a
grudge against his lordship?”

She thought for a moment and
shook her head. “I cannot say. If they did, I think it is forgotten
now. It was the twins who persuaded their god-father to build the
golf course. They said it was the future, the way of things to
come, and I daresay if one of them wins the tournament it will all
work out for the best and the past will be dead and buried.”

It seemed a situation that
could point either of two ways: Either the twins hated their
god-father and held him responsible for the death of their father
or they saw him as their mentor and saviour. Which was it?

The doctor thanked Mrs
Ardkinglas and asked where he might be able to find the
woodchopper.

“Ned will be working in Crow
Wood, out by Maw Bridge, where an ancient yew has come down in high
winds and fallen across the river. It is on the road to Mawgate
Lodge. You cannot miss it. He has the two gardeners with him since
it is a big job. Hamish is there too because there is a colony of
otters nearby and he wants to check that the riverbank has not been
damaged.”

Crow Wood was made up of birch
and alder, the same lovely pendulous trees that dotted the golf
course. The workmen were having an early lunch, sitting by the
riverbank, when Dr Watson arrived. Thane bounded forward to greet
him before running off in search of minks which colonised the
riparian idyll, though it was not the time for mink hunting; that
had to wait for summer when hunters would come with packs of
curly-coated mink hounds.

Dr Watson checked the list of
names to remind himself of the names of the two gardeners, and
noticed that the paper Mr MacDuff had given him was pale green, the
same colour as that found in Mr Brown’s pocket. It was hardly
significant and there could be any number of feasible explanations.
He greeted the men and exchanged a few words about the work they
were doing before asking Ned if he could speak to him in private.
The men all guessed what it was about and left them to it. Hamish
said goodbye and set off across the bridge. He promised to return
with some labourers from the estate and a team of oxen. If the tree
was not shifted before the next heavy rain it would divert the
river and cause it to inundate the road either side of the
bridge.

“What can you tell me about the
poacher?” the doctor asked Ned when they had walked a dozen yards
to a small clearing where the sun broke through the pendulous
branches and lit up the golden hues in the leaf litter.

“Not much to tell. I only saw
him the once, by that I mean I saw him two times but both times on
the same day.”

“Describe him?”

“I saw him from a distance mind
you, not close up, but I’d say he was tallish. He was moving
furtive-like, looking around to make sure he weren’t spotted.
That’s how I knew he weren’t out mushrooming. A lot of the locals
come this way looking for mushrooms and his lordship turns a blind
eye to it though Crow Wood is still part of the Cruddock estate.
The mushroomers won’t go into Jackdaw Wood though there be more
mushrooms there because of talk about witches and such like.”

“Did you see his hair?”

“He was dark-haired and he had
a thick dark beard.”

“Are you sure?”

“It matched his face.”

“His face?”

“He was darkish.”

“How could you tell that from a
distance? Might it have been the shadows of the trees?”

Ned shook his head
emphatically. “He turned his head sudden-like and the sunlight
caught him full on the face the way it is doing to those leaves.
Just as you can see the colours of the leaves in the light so I
could see the colour of his skin. He was a darkie.”

“How was he dressed?”

“He had a tartan cloak and a
tartan scarf bundled around his neck and shoulders. It weren’t no
local tartan, nor any tartan I have seen before. That’s what made
me think he’s not from round the Borders and nor could he be a poor
tramp neither with such fine wools.”

“Was he carrying a walking
stick or perhaps some golf clubs?”

Ned threw back his head and
laughed. “What would a poacher want with golf clubs!”

The doctor had been thinking
about the injury to the back of the neck but decided not to pursue
it. “What time did you see him – be as precise as possible?”

“That’s easy. The sun was
mid-heaven. I found a nice log out of the wind and was just sitting
down to my bread and butter when I spotted him going south along
the western edge of Crow Wood. I thought to myself. I wonder where
this cove is heading? And then blow me down, if I don’t spot him
again an hour or so later taking the low path by the loch, going
north this time. He had no bundle and no brace and no golf clubs
neither! So I figured he might be getting the lay of the land,
checking for nests and lairs and dens and where best to set his
traps.”

“Thank you, Mr Dawes, you have
been very helpful. I bid you a good day.”

The two men parted and as Dr
Watson took the shortest path back to his carriage he spotted Lady
Moira and Miss Lambert standing on Maw Bridge. They had heard about
the fallen yew and had decided to check the damage to the riverbank
for themselves.

Lady Moira was quick to let him
know she would be conducting a spirit meeting in the evening and
invited him (along with the Countess) to dinner, prior to
communicating with the spirit world. It would be Ouija tonight and
a small gathering – just the four of them. Ouija tiles did not lend
themselves to large numbers, she explained. Too many fingers tended
to cloud the message from the otherworld, toing and froing the
glass, manipulating the result.

Any other time, any other
place, the doctor would have swiftly declined, but the manipulation
of the result was exactly what was uppermost in his mind when he
counter-invited Lady Moira and Miss Lambert to dinner at Graymalkin
instead.

“Bring your Ouija tiles with
you,” he said, employing a genial tone, but Lady Moira saw through
his ploy to play mine host.

“Oh, you are such an
unbeliever, Dr Watson! Very well! To prove to you that the spirits
are genuine and that my table and alphabet tiles have not been
tricked-up, we will hold the spirit-meeting at Graymalkin.” She
turned to go then turned back, smiling strangely. Sunlight cast
fitful shadows across her pale as death face. “You may live to
regret your invitation. Graymalkin has a history of demonology and
witchcraft. It is full of tortured souls, who, once they have
awakened from their troubled slumber, may unleash all manner of
dark deeds. Be warned.”