Chapter 8 #2
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Miss Wheeler.”
“You can concern me with it,” D.I. Smith said.
It wasn’t the butler who answered, however. It was the sergeant behind the counter. “Mr. Redmayne here says a police presence is needed outside the Kinloch house, sir. The public and press are in the way and frightening the residents. Shall I send some men, sir?”
D.I. Smith nodded and the sergeant spoke to the constable seated at the desk behind him. The latter picked up his helmet, collected a colleague, and headed out of the station with both.
Redmayne thanked D.I. Smith, then asked him a rather curious question. “Has Blackburn been in to speak to you this morning?”
“No. Why would he? Has he remembered something relevant?”
“The opposite. He wants to retract his statement about hearing a cry on the morning of the second abduction. He is no longer sure what he heard. It could have been a bird.”
The detective heaved a sigh. “Tell him to come and see me. I want to hear it from him.”
Redmayne headed out of the building. Without a word exchanged between the three of us, we also followed. Finding Redmayne alone was a golden opportunity none of us wanted to waste.
Redmayne had other ideas. He increased his pace. His long strides took him well ahead of Miss Wheeler and me, but not Oscar who kept apace.
“Is Mr. Kinloch all right?” he began.
“Fine, thank you, sir.”
“Good, good. He must be unnerved by all this attention, as I’m sure all of the staff are.”
Miss Wheeler made a face. “I thought Mr. Barratt was a journalist.”
“He was,” I said, my tone defensive.
“Did he write about sports? Or perhaps he wrote the social page?”
I bristled. “He was a very good journalist and wrote on all manner of topics. He is simply being polite to numb the source into trusting him.”
“Numb him into boredom, you mean?” She forged ahead, closing the gap. “Mr. Redmayne, you were there when the two women were abducted.”
Oscar shot her a glare. She ignored him and focused on the butler.
“I was in the house, if that’s what you mean, Miss Wheeler.”
“Has there been a suspicious stranger in the street or mews lately?” she pressed.
“The abductor.”
Oscar tossed her a smug look.
She continued to ignore him. “Anyone you actually saw?”
“If I had seen someone, I would have reported it to the police.”
“Do you know if either of the women had an admirer?”
“I do not. If I did, I would have mentioned it to the detective. His questions were very thorough.”
We weren’t going to learn anything by asking the same questions as D.I. Smith. If Redmayne saw anything, he would have reported it. If he was hiding something, he would keep it from us, just as he had kept it from the police.
Instead, I tried a question I didn’t think the detective would have asked, because it focused on opinion rather than fact. “Why do you think a straw effigy was left at each scene?”
Redmayne’s pace slowed. A crease formed across his brow as he considered his answer. “To incriminate Mr. Kinloch, which it has done.”
“So you believe the abductor knew Kinloch was a descendant of the infamous witchfinder and decided to use that to distract everyone.”
“Precisely.”
“Do you think the women were taken because they’re magicians?”
Redmayne’s pace quickened again. “I don’t know.”
Miss Wheeler lifted her skirt with her free hand and hurried after him. “Or were they taken because they are female magicians?”
“I have no opinion on a motive,” Redmayne snapped.
“Since I do not know who took them, I can’t possibly suggest a reason why.
And before you ask, I do not believe it was Mr. Kinloch.
Aside from the fact I know he was in bed at the time of Miss Juliette Buchanan’s abduction, he is a good man.
An excellent man, in fact. He does not judge harshly or too quickly, he doesn’t listen to gossip, and never evaluates a person before meeting them. ”
That last part was oddly specific and quite unrelated to the disappearances. Why did he feel the need to mention it?
“We heard his mill is failing,” Oscar said. “Apparently, it’s doing poorly thanks to cotton and wool magicians, the same magical disciplines as the missing women.”
“The mill is not failing, Mr. Barratt. I suggest you don’t listen to nasty gossip.”
“Then why has Kinloch sold off the paintings that once hung in the house?”
Redmayne suddenly stopped and rounded on Oscar.
His nostrils flared and a muscle in his cheek twitched.
He was trying to control his temper. If I were Oscar, I’d have stepped back, worried that one of those large fists would strike me.
But Oscar merely waited, quite at ease. “He hasn’t sold anything, sir.
Those paintings were sent to London for appraisal. ”
I didn’t believe him, but I kept my mouth shut.
Oscar did not. “Wouldn’t it be easier to pay for an appraiser to come here? Indeed, I’m surprised there isn’t one in Edinburgh.” When Redmayne set off again, Oscar fell into step alongside him. “How does one even pack up a number of large and valuable paintings?”
“There is a freight company that specializes in packing them and organizing for them to be transported by rail. It all happened a month ago.” Redmayne stopped outside a tailor shop. “I have to go in here. Goodbye.” He pushed open the door, and slammed it shut behind him.
Oscar shrugged. “I’d finished my questions anyway. It seems they loosened his tongue a little.”
Miss Wheeler barked a laugh. “Your questions? I’d say it was Professor Nash’s question that loosened Redmayne’s tongue.”
“Not much, though,” I chimed in.
Miss Wheeler opened her umbrella over her head as it began to lightly rain. “Professor, would you care to join me under here?”
“That’s very kind of you.” I offered her my arm as I slipped under the shelter with her.
“What about me?” Oscar asked.
“Didn’t you come prepared for the rain?” she said. “This is Scotland, you know.”
He scowled and flipped up his collar. He cast another look through the window at Redmayne chatting to the tailor before we headed off. “What do you think of his unprompted opinion of Kinloch’s character? Important or not?”
Oscar and Miss Wheeler discussed the butler’s responses on the way to Moray Place, but I wasn’t really listening.
I couldn’t set aside the notion that something was amiss.
We’d set out on this investigation thinking the abductions were related to the theft of the Mackenzie book, but now it seemed as though there was no link after all.
The effigy that had been left in my hotel room didn’t resemble the ones left at the scenes of the crime.
Should we even continue with our own investigation into the abductions if it was nothing to do with us?
I watched Oscar and Miss Wheeler out of the corner of my eye, as they discussed theories.
They showed no sign of even considering backing away from the investigation now.
With two against one, I didn’t bother to suggest it.
Besides, I wanted to find the missing women.
If it meant our distraction allowed the book thief to escape the city, so be it.
What I didn’t consider until later was that someone had left us that effigy for a reason, either to taunt us or lure us into a trap.