Scotch Mist (18 page)

‘We'll never know,' mused Connie, ‘but if she was really making a cry for help she would need to be close to those who could answer it. In a dark corner at the back of the stand she wouldn't be seen until it was too late.'

Heather had not finished. ‘I was about to call it a day when Mrs Cleeves at my last port of call told me her friend had been standing beside the person who had been injured and taken off in the ambulance. She called her then and there, and handed the phone to me.' She cast a swift glance at her notebook. ‘Gwynneth Jones works with the Forces Welfare Service and lives in town. She told me that she grew aware of a woman on her own coming up beside her because she stumbled and almost fell against her. Mrs Jones had the impression that the stranger was unaware of what she was doing; said she looked set to walk straight at the bonfire without realizing that she was risking danger. Looking back, Mrs Jones remembers a vacant look in the woman's eyes which were red from crying. Of course, what happened next put an end to her intention to lead the woman away and question her.'

Heather summed up what she had learned. ‘There's no doubt Eva went to the Sports Ground fully intending to swallow the pills there,
where she would be surrounded by people who would help her
. If the explosion hadn't occurred there's every possibility that Gwynneth Jones would have recognized her condition, called the paramedics who'd identify signs of an overdose, and her life would have been saved. Perhaps.'

‘Good work,' said Tom briskly. ‘We can now close the case and report the death as intentional suicide.'

Olly Simpson, who had been on standby at Headquarters, looked up from his doodling and added a footnote. ‘A messenger from the hospital turned up this afternoon having been redirected by Captain Goodey. Eva's mobile had been found behind the locker in which her clothes had been stored, so they sent it to the doctor to pass to the husband. She thought the Boss would want to do that, but he'd already left so I contacted the provider and said we urgently needed info in a case of sudden death. I exaggerated somewhat, but the girl was impressed and emailed the list of calls made on Tuesday.' He pursed his mouth. ‘There were seventeen. All to the same number. I checked it out. A mobile registered to Pipe Major H McTavish. I'd say his wife was desperately calling for help, wouldn't you?'

‘And Hector chose not to hear it,' said Connie. ‘Poor woman.'

NINE

T
he ante room of the Mess was crowded when Max reluctantly entered. Loud voices, loud laughter, loud uniforms. Instead of the universal khaki the regimental officers were displaying their colours tonight, not simply for protocol's sake but also so that the new Scottish members could tell at a glance with whom each of them served. The Drumdorrans outshone them all in their tartan trews.

Although Miles Crawford was officially a member of a different mess on the base, he was present in his capacity as Deputy Garrison Commander. Max spotted him standing, drink in hand, in a group of senior officers which included Major Carnegie, who appeared to be holding forth with an ease more in keeping with a host than a guest. A very commanding personality who would surely meet his match when Colonel Trelawney returned on Sunday.

Standing close to these ‘élite' was Major Duncan MacPherson talking to someone who, when bodies shifted, Max found to be Clare Goodey. Natural enough for doctors to be drawn to each other, he supposed. He had crossed their shared lounge to knock on her door thinking they would return to base in one car, but there had been no response from her.

One glance from his window revealed that her car was missing from its alloted parking space. He had felt unjustifiably nettled. After all, she led her own life, had her own friends. Just because they occasionally ate at Herr Blomfeld's riverside inn together, it was only when they'd both had a long day and were averse to preparing a meal at home. It was sensible to use one car then. And tonight, an inner voice said. Only when he was backing his car prior to heading for the base did Max remember his churlish refusal of her invitation the previous night. He had thought her above taking umbrage over something as trivial as that. In any case, the dashing Scottish major had stayed the night as her guest. Surely a more attractive outcome.

‘By God, I do believe it's ma old buddy Max Rydal.'

Max turned from his reflections to see a face he'd known well when it was above a school blazer. He smiled warmly. ‘Jock Madison! I thought your entire family had emigrated to the land of Oz.'

‘So we did. I joined their army, then transferred to the Drumdorrans when Mother died and the old man yearned for the banks and braes. My sister Fran married a guy with a smallholding near Adelaide.' His eyes narrowed. ‘Didn't you have a thing about her in the Upper Sixth?'

‘Among others. She liked to play the field.'

‘Still did until she met Griff. He gave her an ultimatum. Him, or half a dozen. Couldn't have both.'

‘She settled for that?' asked Max in surprise, recalling Fran Madison's love of tempting and teasing.

‘She grew up, Max. It comes to all of us sooner or later. I married a Danish girl last year and there's a babe on the way.' He smiled. ‘I don't regret abandoning the pursuit and conquer regime. Fun, but there's something very satisfying in having a home and a family to return to. With active service very much on today's agenda, it's good to know you'll leave something worthwhile if you cop it. Those lads of eighteen, nineteen – hardly have time to know who they are before they're gone.' He glanced around. ‘Let's have another bloody drink before we grow too maudlin.'

A steward caught the hand signal and weaved his way towards them, giving Max time to prepare an answer to what he knew he was certain to be asked once Madison had another sherry in his hand. His former schoolfriend, whose real name was Kenneth, would have no notion of how his talk of home and family had affected Max. The pursuit and conquer regime had never been a real part of his life. There had been girls at university who offered sex freely to almost any male student they fancied, and Max had sometimes taken advantage of a short-lived, carefree episode, but he had probably even then been looking for a stable, loving relationship.

His mother had died when Max was six. Andrew Rydal's military career had made it impossible for him to keep his son with him, so Max had become a prep school boarder. From then on he had never known a home life. If his father was stationed somewhere easily accessible, Max went to him for school holidays; if he was not, Max stayed at the school or accepted invitations from friends' families who took pity on him.

Andrew had not married again despite being a man whom women found irresistible, so those times that father and son did spend together were in hotel rooms or bachelor accommodation. Polite conversation; the correct expressions of enjoyment of visits to zoos, short voyages on yachts, days in the sun watching Andrew play cricket, treks over mountains; earnest declarations of not minding being left alone while Andrew fulfilled his social duties. It had been a relief to them both when school began again.

The youthful military policeman had encountered Susan while investigating a claim that the dispenser at the local chemist had sent the wrong pills to a soldier's wife, causing her to collapse. Proof that the patient's child had emptied the contents of several bottles, then replaced them in mixed quantities had cleared Susan of blame, but Max had found the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

It had taken Susan no more than two years to realize that winters on Salisbury Plain and a husband whose duty took him away a great deal were not what she wanted. A corporal with come-to-bed eyes apparently made her life bearable, but they had died together when his car crashed during a storm. Max could have checked who had sired Susan's baby, but he preferred to believe Alexander had been his son.

When Livya Cordwell had entered Max's world he had been as sure as with Susan that he wanted to spend his life with her. Two months ago two shocks had penetrated his determined courtship. Firstly, he had received an invitation to his father's marriage to a French Cultural Envoy ten years his junior – a relationship Max had been completely unaware of. Two nights after the wedding the second, most wounding, shock had come when he discovered that Livya was hopelessly in love with the new bridegroom whom she served as ADC.

Jock Madison, slender, dark haired and self-assured took two glasses from the steward's tray and handed one to Max. ‘So, what about you? Whatever prompted you to use your school Officer Corps experience to become a
policeman
? You were one of the brightest among us; could've entered any of the most élite regiments with your natural ability and your father's backing.' He smiled reminiscently. ‘A number of us aspired to emulate him. Did you know that? Couldn't do much about the film star good looks, of course, but we worked hard at cricket and rugger and athletics, trying to reach his standard. Envied you having a parent like him.' He cocked his head to study Max shrewdly. ‘Didn't inherit his skill, did you.'

‘No,' agreed Max, thinking of the rows of silver cups with Andrew Rydal's name engraved upon them. He had taken the easy option and given up team sports on leaving school. He now enjoyed rowing a hired skiff on the river, and cross-country running over nearby heathland – solo activities at which he could not disappoint anyone's expectations that he would be as brilliant a sportsman as Rydal Senior.

Realizing Madison was one of those men who, at social events, asked questions then rattled on without waiting for a reply, Max headed him in a new direction.

‘Did the Drumdorrans allow you to retain the rank you had in Oz?'

Madison grimaced. ‘Made me drop from captain to lieutenant, but I'm due to pick up the third pip early next year.'

‘Pity about the trouble on the regiment's arrival. Aggression at the start takes a long time to cool. We're putting out extra patrols tomorrow night. The funeral's certain to revive resentment in your squaddies, who'll go to the bars and discos bent on relieving their feelings.'

Madison was intent on trying to attract the steward's attention once more and persuade him to cross to where they stood beside a table bearing mess silver dating back several hundred years.

‘Aye, I daresay they will,' he agreed, turning with a sigh to concentrate on Max again. ‘Having lived in Oz for some years I no longer have the fervour of the born and bred Scot whose life revolves around pride of heritage and clan loyalty. We have a number of them in the regiment. A small number, mind, but they soon rouse up the rank and file who enjoy a good set-to for the pure pleasure of a fight.

‘Hector McTavish is a guy who revels in the words and music of the ancient songs and airs that extol Scots as prime specimens of manhood who can outwit and overcome any enemy. It's not surprising that he's regarded with great respect and affection by laddies who like to think themselves supermen. They showed their support for him with their fists.'

‘And a lot else,' Max reminded him sharply. ‘Did they react like that when his brother died?'

Madison shook his head. ‘Killed in action is a different matter. There's an element of pride in that death, if you understand my meaning. The lads drink to the memory of their comrades, but soberly. Their fight is with the enemy and they can't wait to get out there and wreak vengeance. What happened on Tuesday was the result of carelessness, of stupidity by those men already on this base. They saw it as murder of an innocent woman who was the wife of one of their number already mourning the loss of his brother.'

Hearing this Max realized that the truth of how Eva McTavish had died was known by only one or two senior members of the regiment, who seemed set on keeping it that way. Closing ranks, which was understandable enough, but Max's team had the facts and so had Maddox's Redcaps. So had Jean Greene. Sooner or later rumours would begin circulating about police interest in the woman's actions during the firework display, and witnesses would discover that too many of them had seen Eva swallowing pills and making calls on her mobile. Oh yes, to hide the truth on a military base it had to be written on paper and marked Top Secret.

‘So long as your lads don't harbour resentment for years to come,' he told Madison. ‘We don't want weekly punch-ups over it.'

‘Och, no! When she's laid to rest tomorrow the anger will be buried with her.'

Max was not so confident of that. He knew how fast old scores rose to the surface when beer flowed and aggressive young men needed an outlet for it. Their conversation was brought to a halt at that point by the short bugle call that, on formal occasions, announced the moment to move through to the dining room. Immediately after it came the sound of bagpipes, which was greeted with cheers by the incoming members who moved forward eagerly to follow the piper to where the long tables were set for an elaborate meal.

Moving with the flow Max found himself walking beside Clare, who said, ‘It's lovely, isn't it. Pity we don't get piped in every time.'

‘Tom Black wouldn't think it lovely,' he replied. ‘He can't stand the sound.'

She glanced up enquiringly as they shuffled towards the hall. ‘How about you?'

‘It's my kind of music. Even better in large numbers.'

Still studying him, she said, ‘You look something of a stranger dressed in uniform. Quite impressive. Pity you had to discard your red-covered hat that adds a dash of colour.'

He shook his head. ‘No competition with tartan trews. Your medical pal puts the rest of us in the shade.'

‘Yes, he does. Can't wait to see him in the kilt.'