Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy (7 page)

And I remembered that momentous day in Jenners as she went on, 'It was quite an event if someone came to call, and Mary would tell me all about it. I'd even do a bit of baking, on the rare occasion there was something like a birthday to celebrate.'

'Any recent callers?'

The question worried her. She frowned. 'Yes, a strange youngish man, tall, well dressed. A gentleman. I thought he might be some sort of a solicitor. Called about a week ago, while I was visiting her. He didn't seem pleased to see me, and Mary didn't introduce us, which was odd. She was always very polite and proper about such things, well brought up, good family, y'know.' She nodded. 'I left them - I know my place. Never intrude.'

She paused, with a thoughtful frown. 'Odd that was, because she never mentioned his visit and when she had an important visitor she enjoyed gossiping about them to me afterwards.'

'It might have been private matters, of course.'

'Maybe you're right. Something urgent, because he was back a couple of days later. I saw him through the window; it was a nice warm day and I was doing a bit of gardening and gathering some vegetables, nice and fresh - they make the best soup.'

She frowned. 'Anyway, whatever it was, it wasn't nice business, he was being rude and upsetting her. Yes, shouting at her like no gentleman would. He had a loud voice, and although she was getting rather deaf and he needed to speak up, there was no need for bullying her.'

'Are you sure?'

She nodded vigorously. 'I know bullying when I hear it, Mrs McQuinn. Although I couldn't hear the exact words, I knew he was threatening her. Yes, that's what it was.' She paused. 'They were having words. And I know all about voices. I used to teach elocution.'

'What kind of words?'

'Angry ones. First time I ever heard Mary raise her voice to anyone, except Frenchie next door, telling him that he was trespassing on private property when he was looking in her back window - searching for a lost kitten, he said. Told him off properly, said trespassing applied to his cat too, using her garden as a lavatory.'

A smile of satisfaction. 'That was him put in his place, but this other fellow - it was quite a shock. He was shouting too: "You're not listening, you old fool." I heard that, it was so loud and so rude and she was saying something about never letting him have it. Sounded as if he wanted to buy the house. But I knew she would never sell.'

'Why was that?'

'Oh, she was very proud of her cottage, said it was the one Bonnie Prince Charlie lived in before the Battle of Prestonpans. One of her ancestors had served with him. She was very proud of that but never told me anything more; she liked her privacy and was always angry and upset when nosy folk came and stared in the windows. Like yon Jacobite society or old Frenchie, who she said was always wanting an excuse to come in and have a look round. She sent them off sharpish, I can tell you.'

'This bullying man, did you see him again?'

She shook her head. 'No. Maybe he came when I was in Gullane. I came back--' her voice broke. 'That was when I found them. I'll never forget the sight - both lying there, dead. Not a mark on them, looked as if they had just fallen asleep. But I blame that awful man; everything had been fine before he came. Perhaps he had frightened them to death.'

I thought that most improbable and as she was talking I was adding up the evidence. And my own theories were grim indeed. The fact that the police had been called suggested suspicious circumstances and that the women had died by violence - the most likely suspect the man who had wanted this house so much, the man speaking behind the door and pretending to be Mrs Lawers on that last visit.

I found no consolation that I had completed my assignment for Mrs Lawers. I could have closed my eyes, put the money in the bank and walked away, got on with the rest of my life. Instead I felt that I was personally involved, under an obligation to find their killer.

I had the first clue, a certainty, that the bullying mystery man was in league with the bogus Hinton who had tried to steal Mrs Lawers' legacy by pushing me out of the door of a moving train.

I had much to occupy my mind as I rode back to Solomon's Tower, where I was delighted and greatly relieved to see Jack sitting at the kitchen table. His first words were, 'How was Meg? Did she look well? Was she happy and did she like her present? Tell me all about her - did they have a photograph of her for me?'

And alas, I could answer none of his questions.

Saying that the Pringlesses weren't at home sounded like a weak excuse. His eyebrows shot up. 'After all that distance, couldn't you have waited for them to return?'

And when I mentioned the tattie howking, his sigh was full of reproach. 'Surely that would be local and you could have tracked them down?' A pause and then he added, 'What about Mrs Lawers' precious package? I suppose you managed that.'

I nodded vaguely. He was so cross I forbore all but the minor details about Mrs Lawers' reluctant heir. 'I'm sorry about Meg, but I was feeling awful, Jack. I just had to get home,' I added weakly.

'Doesn't sound like you,' he said mockingly. 'You're always strong as a horse.' And giving me a hard look, 'You certainly got better very quickly in a couple of days, so it couldn't have been all that bad.'

I was growing weary of this inquisition, cross too, and guilty that I had let him down. I certainly didn't feel like discussing Thane's part in my miraculous recovery. Normally the almost-fatal circumstances of my first journey and the salacious details of the Lochandor Convalescent Home would have intrigued Jack, but not this time. He was otherwise involved, all his thoughts on Meg and my failure to reach her.

A moment of calm and he said, 'Well, I will have to do something about contacting Meg's folks now. So what have you being doing all this time?'

'If you mean this morning, then I've been down to Duddingston to see Mrs Lawers. And what do I find? She and her maid are both dead. A neighbour found their bodies - I had presumed the poor souls had succumbed to influenza. She said she had smelt gas.' I paused. 'And I gather from her neighbour that the police are interested.'

He looked sheepish, cleared his throat. 'I didn't want to upset you, Rose.'

'I think you know me better than that, DI Macmerry, or you should by now,' I said coldly.

'Chief Inspector Gray is on this one, based on the doctor's suspicions, I gather. He wasn't satisfied with his findings, thought it might be more than a gas leak which had killed them. I've just heard.'

'But you weren't going to tell me! Did you think I wouldn't be interested?' I added sweetly, 'Well, I hope this doesn't put you off the idea of a gas cooker.'

I gave him a hard look and he said sternly, 'This is a police matter, Rose. You must stay out of it.'

Gray and I were old foes; his scathing comments about lady investigators still rankled. That was the moment I decided to keep my own counsel, certain that Jack would dutifully pass on the details of my almost-fatal train journey to Gray.
But what a triumph
, I thought,
if my own investigation could reveal the truth about the Duddingston murder
. I said only, 'If you want to steal a march on the chief inspector, then have a private word with Amy Dodd, her next-door neighbour and long-term friend. They've lived in and out of each other's houses for years.'

And I went about preparing the meal trying to pretend I had accepted Jack's ruling. My mind was already racing ahead making plans for the immediate future.

As we ate together, I said, 'I intend returning to Lochandor, seeing John Lawers--'

'Even if you get the door slammed in your face again?'

'Even if he throws the package into the fire this time. I have been paid to deliver a client's dying wish. And this time, I will see Meg.'

Jack smiled, 'Fair enough, Rose. That's my girl.' And taking my hand across the table, 'That's what makes me love you.'

As we prepared for bed later, he said, 'Sorry I've sounded so uncaring. I've got a lot on my mind, just now. What with one thing and another, I think you understand - about Meg. Not knowing if she's really my child is gnawing away at me.'

I looked at him. The mother had gone and he would never know the truth. But for the child's sake, the innocent in all this, I hoped his fears were unfounded as he added, 'I've reached the stage where I am almost afraid to meet her, Rose. It was different when she was just a baby but now - what if she doesn't know me, or even like me? That is why it is so important that you see her now, take her a birthday present, explain that I promise to come and see her in a week or two.'

Lacking any recent news of Meg, I could well understand his anxiety. He had my sympathy. Three-year-old Meg would regard the Pringlesses as her real parents and Jack would be a stranger.

CHAPTER NINE

I decided to leave immediately. My plan was to appeal once again to the irascible John Lawers, hoping that, influenced by Mary Lawers' tragic end, he would not be so dismissive this time. I might even learn from him some tenuous family link.

If he decided to put the legacy on the fire, then I must insist that it was opened first as it might contain vital evidence relating to his relative's death - or murder.

If this failed and he still refused, the only alternative was to open the package myself. I was unwilling - it would be like reading a private diary - but if by so doing I could unravel the mystery and steal a march on Chief Inspector Gray, all the better. Especially as, if I felt magnanimous, Jack could take all the credit, claim the idea was his own.

First, to Tarnbrae to see Meg. This time I must make a determined effort to track down the Pringlesses, praying that they were at home. The tattie howking was fairly local, a daily occupation from which they would return each evening.

After a visit to Jenners' toy emporium for another doll for Meg, en route to the station I met a familiar figure - Sister Clare from the convent at Newington, with a group of excited small girls. She greeted me cheerfully. 'We are off to Princes Street Gardens to gather chestnuts and leaves for our Harvest Festival fair. I do hope to see you there, my dear.'

I promised to do so and we parted with mutual good wishes.

After a mercifully uneventful journey, at Perth station I seized a carriage for Tarnbrae, which excited interest from a more than usually talkative driver, rare in Edinburgh where they tend toward the taciturn. He regarded my lack of golf knowledge as a serious shortcoming.

Informed that Tarnbrae was famous, I soon discovered the reason for his particular interest - he presumed I was heading for the tournament. Did I have a ticket? If not, he could procure one for me, at only a fraction more than the asking price at the gate, with the solemn warning that to his certain knowledge they had been sold out days ago. He was clearly disappointed at my refusal and I guessed that this was a little lucrative sideline during such events.

Paying my fare, I opted out of the drive up to the clubhouse and was put down at the ornate gates, heading in the direction of the cottage, where a wisp of smoke from the chimney brought a sigh of relief.

A tap on the door, the sound of footsteps.

They were at home. The patter of feet increased and shrill voices declared children.

At any moment now I was to see Jack's little daughter for the very first time. I took a deep breath and arranged my face.

The woman who opened the door was somewhat slatternly in appearance, very harassed, thirtyish with thin lips, brows knitted in annoyance allied with shouts and threats that boded ill for the still-invisible children.

My heart sank a little. I had imagined Pam, who I had never met, as a homely, smiling, motherly soul and this woman's demeanour failed on all accounts. But I told myself sternly that I must not make hasty judgements on first impressions, especially when it was obvious that her scant patience related to the fact she was in the later stages of pregnancy.

The door behind her opened and a noisy group of children poured into the passage, led by one screaming lad of about five, yelling about what Ned had been doing. This she quelled by telling him to be quiet, adding a sharp slap across his head which merely turned his yells into roars.

As the others huddled behind him, trying to evade the same punishment, I looked for Meg.

To my dismay I saw that all were boys. Four of them, in varying ages from eighteen months to eight in what are commonly called 'steps of stairs'. But no small girl.

Where was Meg?

'Well, what's your business?' demanded the woman.

She had shoved the boys unceremoniously back into what was apparently the kitchen, closing the door with terrible threats as to what would happen if they dared to come out again and interrupt her when she was busy. The subsequent silence suggested trembling in terror, out of sight.

I said, 'You are Mrs Pringless?'

'That's my name.'

'You are the adoptive mother of Meg Macmerry?'

'What is this about?' she demanded suspiciously. 'Who are you anyway?'

'I am a friend of Meg's father. As I was to be in the area, he wished me to call and deliver his fondest greetings to his daughter with her birthday present.'

That sounded an impossibly bad way to put it, but it was too late to withdraw the words. I saw the Pringless woman stiffen, regarding me through narrowed eyes. I added, 'Her father is naturally keen to have information regarding her welfare--'

'Then he is not up to date with what's going on here,' she interrupted impatiently. 'I am Joe Pringless's new wife, as from two months past. His first wife, who was the lass's aunt, died earlier this year.'

That Pam had died and her husband remarried was something of a shock. I said, 'We had not heard--'

She put up a hand. 'These are my four lads - I was a widow. I couldn't take on any more bairns - especially a lass with this lot; you've seen for yourself how rough and rowdy they behave, a terrible handful - even their poor father could make nothing of them.' She sighed for a moment and patted her stomach. 'And now this, another one.'