Murder on the Flying Scotsman (19 page)

Somehow Piper had the appropriate telephone number on the tip of his tongue. Going out to the lobby with Middlemiss, Alec wondered what happened to all the numbers no longer needed. Did they
lurk there in the young man’s head, strings of figures just waiting for the proper stimulus to pop out of his mouth?

The fancy faded as he took the earpiece off its hook and spoke to the telephone girl. For once it wouldn’t matter if she listened in to the conversation. This was no local murder; his
investigation could not be disrupted by a gossiping switchboard operator.

The bell rang several times. ‘I’m sorry, caller, there’s no answer,’ said the girl, but just then the bell cut off in mid-ring.

‘This is Dr. Fraser,’ said an impatient voice. ‘Who is it?’

‘Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, sir I’d hoped to speak to Dr. Redlow.’

‘Dr. Redlow cannot come to the telephone just now, Chief Inspector,’ Fraser said dryly. ‘If you saw his hands you’d know why. I’m assisting him.’

Alec explained about the pillow-case. ‘I’m assuming it was in fact murder,’ he said then. ‘Has Dr. Redlow come to any conclusion?’

‘Just a moment, Chief Inspector.’ Footsteps and a murmur of voices; Fraser came back. ‘I’m authorized to tell you that Dr. Redlow is prepared to swear in court that
Albert McGowan died of suffocation due to the pressure of some soft object over his mouth and nose.’

Alec’s breath came out on a long sigh – he hadn’t realized he was holding it. He listened to the technical details with half his mind. Medical evidence he followed better on
paper. When Dr. Fraser finished, he asked, ‘What about time of death, sir?’

‘Dr. Redlow concurs with my original estimate, Chief Inspector, since I saw the body much earlier. McGowan died between three and four this afternoon, with a half-hour margin of error
either way. Sorry I can’t be more exact.’

‘That’s better than most, sir’. But no help whatsoever.

‘We’ll get onto the pillow-case as soon as it arrives,’ Fraser promised. ‘Do you want the results tonight?’

‘First thing in the morning’ll do, sir. Thank you.’ He rang off. About to return to the lounge, he had a sudden thought. Jogging the hook until the operator answered, he asked
for the local police station. ‘This is Chief Inspector Fletcher. Is Superintendent Halliday still there?’

‘Yes, sir. Just a moment, please.’

Halliday came onto the line. ‘Mr. Fletcher?’

‘I thought you’d like to know, sir, that Dr. Redlow confirms murder.’

A windy sigh whistled down the wire. ‘Thank you, Mr. Fletcher. Then I can sleep in peace.’

Alec chuckled, glad to have set the man’s mind at rest. He must have been on tenterhooks wondering if he’d made a complete ass of himself.

Back in the lounge, he announced the news to Tom Tring and Ernie Piper. ‘Murder it is,’ he said. ‘Albert McGowan was smothered to death.’

‘Well of course, Chief,’ said Piper. ‘Miss Dalrymple said so, and she’s always right.’

CHAPTER 15

Where on earth was she? Daisy lay trying to think why she was uncomfortably stretched out on a sagging mattress, a faint light shining through her eyelids though surely it
couldn’t be daybreak yet! She’d only just fallen asleep.

Her eyes resisted her unenthusiastic effort to open them. What had roused her in the depths of the night?

Where . . . ?

Oh, the Raven’s Nest Hotel, in Berwick. Yesterday flooded back, making her even more reluctant to wake fully. She turned over and buried her face in the lumpy pillow

‘No!’

The childish wail brought Daisy instantly upright. Belinda, caught in a nightmare by the sound of it; that was what had woken her. She slid out from under the covers, shivering as she reached
for her dressing gown, and crossed to the other bed.

Belinda was curled on her side, her eyelids flickering though she seemed fast asleep. ‘Don’t,’ she whimpered, ‘please don’t. I didn’t mean to.’

‘Wake up, darling.’ Daisy gently shook her shoulder. ‘You’re all right, it’s just a dream. Wake up now and it’ll go away. Come on, Belinda, you’re quite
safe now.’

‘No-o-o!’ Her eyes opened, bright with fear as she looked up at Daisy.

‘It was a dream. Don’t be afraid, it was just a nightmare.’

Belinda burst into tears. ‘It wasn’t,’ she sobbed, ‘or I’d be at home. It’s all real. I don’t want to go to prison!’

‘Darling, they don’t put little girls in prison.’ Daisy pulled the unheeding child into her arms.

‘I didn’t mean to be wicked. I wasn’t really listening, honestly. I wasn’t eavesdropping. I couldn’t help hearing, ’cause they were shouting.’

‘Of course you couldn’t Who . . .’

‘And I haven’t told anyone. I mostly didn’t understand anyway.’

‘Belinda,
who
was shouting, and what didn’t you understand?’

‘I can’t tell you or I’ll have to go to prison.’

‘What makes you think that? Listen. Listen to me.
They don’t put little girls in prison!
’

Belinda stopped soaking Daisy’s bosom with her tears and twisted to peek up at her face. ‘Really? Are you sure?’ She hiccuped a last sob. ‘Quite, quite absolutely sure?
Cross your heart?’

‘Quite, quite absolutely sure, cross my heart and hope to die,’ Daisy said solemnly. ‘Now, when you happened to pass, who did you overhear?’

‘I heard lots of people talking,’ Belinda evaded. ‘Most of the doors were open ’cause it was so hot’.

‘Let’s stick to Mr. McGowan’s compartment for the moment. I remember you told me you heard him shout Who was with him?’

‘The first time it was Mr. Smythe-Pike – he was shouting, not Mr. McGowan. All he said was something about no loyalty to the family. I understood that.’ Belinda’s bowed
head and twisting fingers revealed her continued fearfulness despite Daisy’s reassurances.

Daisy tried to speak patiently. ‘And the second time, what was it you didn’t understand? What Mr. McGowan shouted? Or whoever was with him? Who was that?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t hear him say anything.’

‘Bel, darling, you
must
tell me what you did hear. Your daddy needs to know everything you can remember. You know he won’t let any harm come to you. Let’s see,
didn’t you tell me about some name he mentioned?’

‘Miss Probation. But you said it was probably “disapprobation,” meaning disapproval. I didn’t
tell
you, I
asked
you who it was.’

‘So you did.’ If the difference mattered to her, Daisy was quite prepared to go along. ‘Why don’t you
ask
me about the other words you didn’t
understand?’

Belinda heaved a shuddering sigh. ‘All right, if I can remember. I already asked about “orbit” and you said it means the earth going round the sun.’

‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten. An odd sort of word to shout!’

‘What about “arsony”?’

‘“Arson” is setting buildings on fire on purpose. I don’t know where the “y” comes from. How extraordinary!’ Far from enlightenment, Daisy found herself
more bewildered than ever. ‘What else?’

‘A word that sounded like “puzzlement,” only it wasn’t quite. I know what “puzzlement” means.’

‘“Puzzlement” means what I feel! What on earth was he on about?’

‘There was something that reminded me of sheep, too. I can’t ’member exactly, just that it made me think of sheep.’

‘Sheep. “Puzzlement.” “Orbit.” “Arson.” And Miss Probation.’

‘You’re really absolutely sure? About prison?’

‘Absolutely. Your father will say exactly the same, I promise. You know, darling, I think we’d better go and tell him right away. I dare say he’ll be mad as fire at being woken
up, but then he might be equally shirty if we don’t.’

Daisy helped Belinda pull the woolly jumper on over her combies. In the corridor a light was burning, gas turned low. As kindly arranged by Mr. Halliday, Alec’s room was opposite theirs,
no twists and turns and steps to negotiate. They crossed and Daisy tapped on the door.

No response. She knocked louder.

‘Who’s there?’ came Alec’s drowsy voice.

Without waiting, Belinda opened the door and rushed in. By the light from the passage, Daisy saw her vault onto her father’s bed as he sat up, looking adorably rumpled. His arms wrapped
around his daughter, he blinked owlishly over her head at Daisy, hesitating on the threshold.

Suddenly self-conscious, she felt herself blushing in the frightfully Victorian way she so despised. After all, she was in her nightclothes in a man’s bedroom, with him in bed in his
blue-and-white striped flannel pyjamas, too. At least they had both been fully dressed when he came to her room. He couldn’t see her blush, thank heaven – she must be just a silhouette
to him.

She couldn’t stay hovering in the doorway, though
.
Which was worse, to light the gas and let him see her red cheeks, or to talk to him in the dark, their little chaperon
invisible?

‘I’d better turn on a light,’ she said.

‘Here’s matches.’ He reached out to take a box from the bedside table and toss it to her. ‘What’s going on?’

She missed the catch, of course. She’d always been rotten at sports. Luckily the matches didn’t spill so she didn’t have to grovel after them.

‘I had a bad dream, Daddy.’ Cradled safe in Alec’s arms, Belinda already sounded sleepy again.

‘I thought you ought to hear right away.’ Daisy lit the sconce over the fireplace, turning the gas just high enough not to go out. Shutting the door, she turned, noting his clothes
neatly folded on a chair. Her gaze firmly fixed on Belinda’s bare feet, she went on, ‘Belinda overheard Albert McGowan in the train. She’s told me what she heard, but I
can’t make head or tail of it.’

‘I didn’t
tell
, I asked.’

‘I take it you think this is significant,’ Alec said dryly, ‘or you wouldn’t have woken me.’

Daisy looked at him and was relieved to see his smile. ‘I’m not sure, but I didn’t want to be accused in the morning of keeping something from you!’

‘Fair enough. Sit down, Daisy; I can’t do the polite.’ He waved at the foot of his bed. ‘What did you hear, Bel?’

‘Daddy, do they put little girls in prison?’

‘Great Scott, no!’

‘Miss Dalrymple said not.’ Belinda yawned. ‘Mr. McGowan was shouting about houses on fire, and sheep, and puzzlement, and the sun and the world.’ Another yawn overtook
her. ‘Oh, and someone called Miss Probation. Miss Anne Probation, but Miss Dalrymple says it was “disapprobation.”’

‘I’m not too sure about that.’ Perched on the very end of his bed, the alternative being to move his clothes from the chair, Daisy elaborated.
‘“Disapprobation” was my original guess, but now I’ve heard the rest . . . It wasn’t “puzzlement” and “sheep” she heard, Alec, but something
like “puzzlement” and something she connected with sheep.’

‘What about the burning houses, and the sun? Are you sure this isn’t just part of her nightmare?’

‘I’m sure about Miss Probation and the sun business – the word she remembered was “orbit” – because she asked me about them right after hearing them. The rest
I can’t be certain. It was nothing to do with houses, either, that was just my attempted explanation of “arson.”’

‘“Arson”! Well, it may all make sense in the morning.’

‘I’m sorry to have woken you for nothing.’

He reached out one hand, and without thinking she put hers in it. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Better safe than sorry, unless you can think of a more appropriate
cliché.’

With a tingling glow running up her arm from their clasped hands, Daisy couldn’t have come up with an appropriate cliché to save her life. It was a jolly good job Belinda was there,
or she might have jumped in between the sheets with Alec like a flash. He was looking at her oddly, making her feel quite breathless. She didn’t quite like to pull her hand away in case he
guessed how she was feeling.

‘D-did you learn anything useful this evening?’ she managed to stammer.

‘We’ve got the pillow, and there’s what appears to be blood on the pillow-case. It looks as if McGowan scratched his murderer. You haven’t noticed scrapes or scratches on
anyone’s face or hands, have you? Apart from the briar scratches on Jagai’s and Raymond’s hands?’

‘No, nothing.’ But there was something she ought to tell him, if she could only think straight! She sighed. ‘The miser of Dunston Castle certainly is responsible for a lot of
trouble.’

‘The
what?
’

‘Old Alistair McGowan.’

‘What did you call him?’

‘The miser of Dunston Castle. Why?’

‘
That’s
what I’ve been trying to remember,’ Alec said triumphantly. ‘That’s what Bretton called him, and someone else – Kitty, was it? Alistair
McGowan is a renowned miser?’

‘I’m surprised no one else mentioned it. They never seemed to tire of the subject, except when they started raving about Albert leaving his all to an Indian. Does it
matter?’

‘It may.’ Alec being cautious. It gave her the excuse she needed to withdraw her hand from his warm, disturbing clasp.

‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me,’ she said indignantly, ‘we’d better get back to bed. Come on, Belinda . . . Oh, blast, she’s fast asleep
again!’

‘I’ll carry her. Will you go ahead and open the doors?’

Daisy complied, and turned back Belinda’s bedclothes. Alec carried her in, set her down gently, and tucked her in. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

‘I hope she’ll sleep soundly now,’ he said, turning to Daisy. ‘I’m sorry she disturbed your sleep.’

‘I’m sorry to have disturbed yours.’

‘It’s part of the job – both being a policeman and being a father.’ He stood for a moment looking down at her, then suddenly, unexpectedly, he put his hands on her
shoulders and kissed her on the lips.

Then he bolted.

Daisy stared blankly at the door as it clicked shut behind him. Her lips burned.

Gosh, she thought, it was
frightfully
lucky Belinda had been between them if that was how he felt, too. Dreamily she slipped off her dressing gown and wriggled back under the bedclothes.
They still held a trace of her body-heat. What would it be like to climb into bed beside a man, beside Alec, to let herself sink into the warmth of . . .