Ghost Walk (8 page)

‘Of course, Andrew. What else? Happens every day,’ was the doctor’s cheerful reply but I was aware of curious glances
following
from Jack’s parents as they remembered my hysterical outburst that someone had killed the priest.

It was all very depressing. And very unreal, I thought as Jack took my arm and we went into the kitchen.

Thane had been removed to the stables for his medical
attention
and to get acquainted with Charity. Mr Macmerry’s faithful sheepdog Rex, newly returned from his brief honeymoon in the farm ‘up-by’ and having done his duty, was basking by the fireside
alongside the two ancient celibate labradors.

Jack patted Rex’s head. ‘Da was telling me this was his first
siring
. Ah well, honeymoons take it out of a chap,’ he added with a sympathetic grin as he took me in his arms, saying how great it was to be together again. How he had missed me and so forth.

And most important, with his parents’ footsteps on the
threshold
, he whispered was there any chance – tonight? And where was I sleeping?

I guessed what was in his mind, for the same thought had occurred to me too. I needed his warm loving arms. But I shook my head.

‘Not a chance,’ I whispered. ‘Your mother has taken good care of our morals, that’s for sure. You are at one end of the corridor in your own room and I am in the guest bedroom at the other end of the house.’

‘With the master bedroom right between us, who needs a chaperone?’ said Jack with a groan. ‘Those damned old
floor
boards
creak like the wrath of God.’

As his parents entered, he managed a stage-whisper. ‘Keep your thoughts to yourself about Father McQuinn. Not another word – understand – about thinking this was murder.’

I wasn’t thinking. I was sure it was murder.

Somehow we got through the social part of what was left of the evening while Jack and his parents pulled the world apart and put it together again, in Eildon and elsewhere. Inevitably there was a lot of talk about Jack as a bairn, the sort of family history no bride to be can do without. How proud they were! From Police Constable to Detective Sergeant and now promoted to Detective Inspector.

I smiled when they looked in my direction, those more urgent forbidden questions unanswered burning inside of me. Or was it heartburn from the strong drams that were being offered as a
celebration
of Jack’s return and our approaching nuptials? After all, this was something of an occasion, the first time we had been
united under the family roof.

We had a moment together as his mother went upstairs ‘to see to things’ and his father sternly led the reluctant Whisky and Soda outside ‘to do what dogs had to do,’ and took Rex with him to check the farm gates were locked.

Jack seized my hand across the table. ‘They’re so proud of you,’ he sighed happily. ‘Everyone in Eildon knows you are Inspector Faro’s daughter.’

‘But not apparently that I am a widow.’

Jack frowned. ‘How’s that?’

‘As I am being introduced as Miss Faro, it seems that my
marriage
has been carefully removed from the record.’

Jack shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Yes, well, you know what Ma’s like.’

I didn’t but I was learning fast.

Observing my grim expression, Jack said hastily, ‘Mothers can be tricky. I expect she didn’t want the world to know that her son was marrying a – well, a widow.’ He managed to make it sound quite improper! ‘It’s just a mother’s pride, only son and all that. No harm in it at all.’ And shaking his head sadly, ‘She’s very
sensitive
–’

She wasn’t the only one, I thought indignantly, giving him a sharp glance.

Clearing his throat as he did when he was embarrassed, Jack continued: ‘You know how people talk in small communities, especially knowing you were related to the Catholic priest – with Da an elder of the kirk and that sort of thing.’

‘How will it be explained in our banns being read each Sunday?’

‘Not at all. It’s quite normal for just the Christian and maiden name to be read out.’

As footsteps announced the returning parents, I guessed sadly that Jack wasn’t too disappointed at his mother’s authorised
version
of my life. What sort of a family was I marrying into, for
heaven’s sake? Were they direct descendants of the ostrich genus?

Jack smiled. ‘Time for bed.’

And so it was. His mother followed us upstairs close on our heels and held open the door of my room, averting her eyes from Jack’s necessarily chaste goodnight kiss.

As I closed the door, my last sight was of her leading him along the corridor to his own bedroom, so proudly, like a return to the childhood he had left a very long time ago.

The cosy scene even had the suggestion that a bedtime story might be on the cards.

As I sat down on the bed, I was so lonely. At that moment I had had enough of the Macmerrys. I longed for my bedroom in Solomon’s Tower. I longed for Arthur’s Seat and thought of Thane sharing his sleeping quarters in the stable with a horse called Charity.

Exhausted and lulled by drams, I thought sleep would be immediate. That was not the case as my mind kept returning to the housekeeper’s story.

Whatever her devotion to Father McQuinn, he had been
murdered
. As it was beyond belief that she should have hit him over the head with the altar candlestick in a fit of anger, the stranger who carried him into the house was most likely his killer.

Was this the same man who had concealed himself in the
confessional
when I was about to discover the body?

And however Jack Macmerry felt about it, this as far as I was concerned was one of my cases now.

Not a Discretion Guaranteed investigation for a middle class Edinburgh client, whose fragile reputation lay dangerously at stake, but a full-blown murder enquiry.

Over breakfast next morning Jack broke the news that this was just a fleeting visit, to see that Thane got proper attention for his wounded paw and to discreetly check the security arrangements at Verney Castle for the Royal visit.

‘This is strictly confidential, Rose. Not a word to my parents. The Chief Constable thought as I lived in the area it could be accomplished without raising too many alarms or suspicions.’

‘Suspicions of what? Are they expecting trouble?’ I said
anxiously
.

Jack shook his head. ‘We have wind of Fenian activities in the area. May be just a rumour, of course.’

‘Your father told me that the Verneys were an old Catholic family, loyal to the Stuarts. And that they had Irish connections.’

‘That applies to a lot of us,’ was the wry reply. ‘But there are Irish men and women loyal to the Crown. I don’t expect that his lordship has a Fenian terrorist hidden away in the priest hole. Nothing as dramatic. He has a blameless record but where Royalty is concerned, the police always take rumours seriously.’

Pausing, he wagged a finger at me. ‘And you should know that from your early life with an illustrious Chief Inspector.’

I shrugged. ‘On the contrary, he never confided in his
family
.’

‘A wise move,’ said Jack. ‘Discreet surveillance is the word. And the reasons for my visit home have provided the Borders police with the perfect answer. I shall have to report back to Central Office – briefly, of course,’ he added casually, ‘as there is another pressing matter which fitted in very neatly to my secret mission.’

‘And what would that be?’ I asked, knowing perfectly well.

His eyebrows raised mockingly at that. ‘I can’t believe you have forgotten our wedding arrangements. Counting the days we are
now,’ he added with a happy sigh. ‘How many is it?’

I ignored that. The reminder had not been strictly necessary. ‘So I’m to be left here on my own while you go back to Edinburgh,’ I replied rather sharply.

‘Hardly on your own,’ he said reproachfully. ‘After all, you have Ma and Da to take care of you.’

‘Take care.’ How I winced at the words. He made me sound like a little girl, which I bitterly resented as he went on sternly: ‘You can make yourself useful. Ma will need someone to give her a hand.’ And that final note of self-righteousness, ‘After all,
weddings
are a woman’s business.’

Never a good actor, he was relieved at having a man’s excuse to avoid all the wearisome details and preparations. I felt angry, not for the first time, that I was marrying a man who didn’t know me at all, aware again of those vast uncharted areas in our
relationship
. Heaven only knew what this version of the Rose McQuinn he loved and wanted to marry was like. I was certain I had never met her, or at best had only a fleeting acquaintance and, had I recognised her, suspected I would most likely have despised her.

Married friends of course would have all the answers. Soothing tales that such pre-wedding anxiety was common to all brides. But did all of them at frequent intervals put words to the question burning in their innermost hearts: Were they doing the right thing? Was it too late to step back?

I had the answer to that one. In my case, it was.

Besides I was different, I had no married friends on hand and I was no quaking virgin bride being led to the altar with the
terrifying
prospect of the ‘wedding-night-and-what-to-expect’ spoiling the glamour of pretty gowns and extravagant presents. I had been happily married before. This second formal wedding was merely to put the stamp of officialdom and the church’s blessing on our relationship. Scottish Law already regarded us as man and wife under that quaint term, ‘by habit and repute.’

Furious that Jack had lured me to Eildon on false pretences, to
get his family’s approval – or not – (the jury was still out on that one!) – he had used me and Thane’s injury as legitimate reasons for his police business in the area.

Now he was leaving me not only to prepare for our wedding but with the investigation of a murder case. Last night I had had visions of us solving it together, now I was being told he had to rush back to Edinburgh with his security report on Verney Castle.

I groaned. Police business was an all too familiar part of my life, from childhood days onward. I had never been first, let’s face it, in any man’s life. Certainly not with my well-beloved father Inspector Faro.

I had moved on to discover that my rival in Danny McQuinn’s life was Pinkerton’s Detective Agency and now, back on my home territory, hopeful with Jack Macmerry, I had to contend once more with Edinburgh City Police.

Aware of my displeasure, Jack said, ‘I’m sorry, Rose. But you know what its like when Her Majesty intends a visit to Edinburgh.’

A sudden gleam of brightness in the gloom. Perhaps my
stepbrother
Dr Vince Laurie, junior physician to the Royal Household, would be with her.

‘Maybe she will give Vince leave to come to the wedding. If the dates are right – I wrote to him, of course.’

‘That would be great.’ Jack grinned. ‘Then he can give you away, as a member of the family. One problem solved.’

‘Or he could be your best man.’

He thought for a moment. ‘Yes. My parents would be thrilled to have someone with Royal connections sign the register.’

‘When are you leaving?’ I asked.

‘This evening. On the train back to Edinburgh.’

‘This evening!’ I echoed. ‘What about Thane?’

Jack avoided my eyes. ‘Da says he needs a day or two to get used to the splint. I was counting on you being here. You can
bring him back.’

‘How do I do that, pray?’ A dog the size of a pony would
hardly
be welcome in a compartment for six persons.

‘In the guard’s van, as I did,’ said Jack, a mite impatiently.

I sighed. ‘Well, I expect I’ll find enough to keep me busy for a few days, things I’m intending to look into, like murder,’ I added sweetly.

Jack grabbed my arm. ‘Rose – are you mad? There was no murder. For heaven’s sake, the housekeeper told you what
happened
.’

‘What about the damp floor? Someone cleaned up the blood.’

‘Of course someone did. Mrs Aiden. Just to look at the woman will tell anyone that she’s that kind of person. Blood on a church floor. Cleanliness next to godliness. For heaven’s sake –’

I had a lot more to add to that subject. I would have stamped my foot if I hadn’t glimpsed out of the corner of my eye Mrs Macmerry hovering about just outside the kitchen door.

The terrible urge to scream, to throw something, was there but I wasn’t going to give her the gleeful satisfaction of reporting my appalling behaviour to his father as: ‘I told you so. She’s not the right one for our Jack.’

So I fumed and held my peace and went through the ritual of going to the manse, meeting the minister Reverend Linton and fixing the wedding in the austere Scots kirk lurking in the shadow of the Abbey.

June 21, on the morning of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. A quiet ceremony indeed. No best man, no bridesmaid, Jack’s
parents
as witnesses, before a congregation consisting of their friends.

The minister was clearly disappointed. As Andrew Macmerry was an elder of the kirk and Mrs Macmerry big in the Guild he had expected a stylish wedding of notable proportions.

Did we require a rehearsal? That wasn’t necessary, Jack put in quickly. No, he didn’t have a best man in mind.

As my father was living abroad there would be no one to give the bride away – he didn’t want to raise false hopes by mentioning the nebulous possibility of Vince – however, his own father would willingly hold the ring.

What about a bridesmaid? This was asked with a smile.

I couldn’t provide that either. A married sister in Orkney with an infant son, various well-off Edinburgh friends – mostly
grateful
ex-clients who I couldn’t imagine making the journey for a small undistinguished country wedding.

I had a sudden vision of Nancy Brook, niece of our old
housekeeper
at Sheridan Place. But as I knew Nancy greatly fancied Jack, I felt bridesmaiding at his wedding might be both cynical and cruel.

Reverend Linton was clearly put out that the ceremony was to be short and sweet. No hymns, no wedding march, the vows exchanged, the ring, the blessing and away back to the farm for a dram and a piece of wedding cake.

No big deal. However, when I said so, this produced a weak smile. As a matter of fact he had rather a lot of commitments. Involvement in Jubilee activities, children’s events, village fetes, competitions to be judged, and so forth.

As we left Jack took my arm fondly, sighed and said: ‘Well, that’s all fixed. And I think we should feel fortunate that he could fit us in on such a day.’

I didn’t bother to point out that this particular day was his, or rather, his parents’ choosing.

As we walked back to the farm, Jack’s father was hitching Charity to the pony cart.

‘All ready for you, lad.’

‘How’s Thane?’

‘Just grand, lass,’ he said following me into the stable where Thane, on a very long rope tactful enough to calm any fears he might have of captivity, jumped up to greet me. Mr Macmerry patted his head. ‘You’ll be great in two – three days. Just as well
the lad brought him to me,’ and with a shake of the head. ‘Many’s the beast I’ve saved aye, and good horses from the knackers’ yard. All it takes is time and a bit of know-how – and nature’s
assistance
, of course.’

I put my arm around Thane’s neck and said: ‘He isn’t used to being tied up, you know.’

‘I guessed that, lass. But it’s better for him meantime. We don’t want him roaming about and getting lost.’

I could see the reason behind that. What if instinct drove him to try to get back to Arthur’s Seat again? I guessed the rope hadn’t yet been invented that would keep him back.

‘I’ll just have another wee look at his dressing afore I go out by,’ said Mr Macmerry. ‘Jack’s waiting for ye.’

Jack was in the pony-cart consulting his watch. ‘Fancy a visit to Verney Castle, meet the local aristocracy? Unless you have
anything
better to do,’ he added with a grin.

I did. My prompt reply would have been that I had intended to visit Mrs Aiden to find out more about that mysterious stranger who had carried Father McQuinn into the house so
fortuitously
. ‘I have to see his lordship,’ said Jack as I took the seat alongside him, ‘Police business. Shouldn’t take long, if you don’t mind waiting. You can have a stroll in the gardens. They are quite something. I used to be thrown out by the gamekeeper regularly for trespassing, when I was a lad.’

He paused and then added. ‘It will look better if you are with me, make it more informal. Less like an official visit.’

So that was the reason I had been invited along. Not for my charming company, I thought cynically.

It took a lot longer to reach the castle by the road than by the track where I had been apprehended by the gamekeeper and his savage dog and accused of trespassing.

We circled the estate by a bank of trees and a couple of fields leading through ornate gates, where a long drive twisted through tight shrubbery to emerge at the magnificent frontage of the castle,
which I had seen from far above. The lawns sported a raised
platform
and canopied seating area.

Preparations for a Jubilee pageant, I decided, as the pony cart rattled across the gravelled forecourt and a footman appeared at the door.

Jack stepped down. A murmured conversation, heads turned in my direction.

‘Would madam care to wait for you in the library, sir?’ asked the footman.

I stepped down from the cart and shook my head. ‘Thank you. I’ll wait outside and enjoy the sunshine.’ Keen to be
accommodating
, the footman indicated a path through the shrubbery. ‘Feel free to explore the gardens, madam. We’ll ring the bell when sir is ready to leave.’

Jack grinned and they disappeared inside. As the door closed I had an instant’s regret at missing a chance to view the library.

However, the sun was warm and I love grand gardens, my life having been severely deficient in that respect during my years in the Arizona desert.

There were several inviting paths spread out like the fingers of a hand, twisting through tall, well-manicured hedges. Small, shady, not to say chilly arbours, with stone seats under the watchful melancholy stone gaze of a number of underclad gods and
goddesses
, who must have found the long winter months somewhat trying.

At last I emerged at a large artificial lake with a boathouse. There were swans and ducks and a boy with a toy boat. He was about eight years old, immaculately clad in sailor suit and a straw hat tilted back over a mass of blond curls. A picture book child unaware of being watched and I regretted not having my
sketchbook
.

A cry of distress: he had lost his hold on the boat’s rope. He was leaning forward, staggering, ready to topple into the lake.

I raced forward, grabbed his legs just as the rest of him was about to slide into the water and pulled him ashore.

The sleeves of that immaculate white suit were somewhat the worse for the experience, but he wasn’t grateful for my lifesaving activity.

Pointing he yelled, ‘My boat. Please get it back. Look, I’ve lost it!’

‘You almost lost more than that, young man,’ I said sternly. ‘Just wait until your mamma sees you –’

He was unconcerned and continued to wail. ‘My boat, it’s drifting away.’

‘Wait here, don’t move,’ I commanded and tore down a loose branch from one of the overhanging willows. ‘I’ll get it for you.’

Following the boat’s progress around the lake and then, by lying flat on my stomach, with some careful manoeuvring of the branch, I managed to steer it safely shorewards.

‘There you are now, no damage done,’ I said, ignoring the condition of my sleeves drenched in the process.

Hugging his boat to his breast, his smile was angelic. ‘Thank you, thank you. You saved her! I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been around.’