Chapter 26
“Stone the crows,” Emma muttered, putting down the chapter on top of the others.
Love interest for Melrose. Was Iris explaining why he never married?
This was the girl he loved and couldn’t have?
Or will there be a marriage in the future?
A marriage that doesn’t last for some reason?
Suddenly the story had developed a personal nature.
Now she was especially anxious to read on, but there weren’t many more pages.
She glanced up at the clock, hoping she could finish before she had to go over to the big house for dinner.
Melrose watched her walk away, noticing the neatness of that upswept bun, the daintiness of her step. Say something, you fool, shouted the voice in his head.
“I say,” he called after her. “Is there any chance we could meet again?”
She turned back. “I’m not sure there is anything else I could tell you that would be useful,” she said.
“I didn’t mean that.” He felt himself blushing and knew that the blush would show up horribly against his fair skin. “I meant, you seem like such an interesting and intelligent woman. I’d enjoy having a chat with you sometime, when you’re not busy.”
The amusement returned to her eyes. “Apart from correcting spelling tests, planning the next week’s lessons and cooking the meals for my father I’m hardly busy,” she said. “There is not a lot to do in a place like this.”
“Is there somewhere one could have a cup of tea? Or even a pint at the pub?”
“Don’t you have a case you’re supposed to be working on?”
“Yes, but not in the evenings,” he said. “If you came across on the ferry they do quite decent food at my hotel.”
Now the humour spread to her lips and she smiled. “Go across on the ferry to a gentleman’s hotel? A stranger’s hotel? A man I’ve just met? Can you imagine the rumours there would be about that? My reputation would be ruined forever.”
“Surely not,” he said. “We’ll dine together in full view of everybody, and I’ll walk you back to the last ferry.”
“All the same they’d say I was fresh or desperate, wanting to pick up a fellow.”
“Does that really matter to you?” he asked.
“I have my father’s reputation to think of,” she said.
“Look at what they say about the Wild Girl. She was really a poor little mite abandoned by her family. Now they attribute all kinds of things to her, including the death of Lucy and Mr Stewart.” She hesitated.
“We’re a small community, Inspector. We have to live together, to get along well.
We can’t let the outsider rip us apart.”
“I understand,” he said, “but could I perhaps write to you?”
“You’ve only just met me.”
“Yes, and I felt right away that you’re somebody I’d enjoy getting to know better. Nothing improper about it, I assure you.”
Now it was she who flushed. “Well, I suppose I can’t stop you from writing to me.”
“And if you happened to come down to Glasgow, I could show you around, including the police station.”
“Now that is a bribe,” she said, laughing. “All right, Inspector. But I really have to go now. It was nice talking to you. Really nice.”
“Before you go, may I know your first name?”
“It’s Isla,” she said.
“Pretty name. I’m James.”
“James.” She gave a nod of approval. “I must go.”
Then she turned and walked into the building. Melrose watched until she had disappeared then went back to his waiting vehicle.
“That Miss Anderson, she’s not bad-looking, is she?” the constable said as they drove off. “Bit of a waste stuck in a place like this.”
“Does she have suitors?” Melrose asked.
“There’s several who would like to court her but she’s verra picky. Too picky, some would say. You have to take what you can get when you live in a small community. And she won’t leave on account of her sick father. So where now?”
Where indeed? Melrose asked himself. If he wrote to her and she’d never leave her father what was the point? But if he didn’t try then he’d have no chance at all.
“Which way, sir? We’re at the crossroads,” the young policeman said.
Melrose jerked himself back to reality. “I should visit the Chisholms,” he said.
“Oh my.” He sounded alarmed.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“They don’t take too kindly to intruders,” he said.
“I’m not an intruder. I’m a police officer of the Crown come to question them about a murder investigation.” He sounded more confident than he felt.
“If you say so, sir.” He turned the car to the right and set off up the hill, swinging around and following the coastline north.
After a mile or so they came to the gates of another great estate.
Melrose got out and opened the gate. As they drove in he could see that this estate was very different from the castle of Dun Akyn.
Dun Akyn was a veritable fortress with no attempt at adornment.
This was a gentleman’s residence, fortified with towers at the corners, but grand and elegant nevertheless.
A place where people who had money lived.
No wonder Sir Henry was keen to unite his estate with theirs.
As they pulled up at the portico a footman came out, dressed in black livery. Melrose opened the car door. “Inspector Melrose from Glasgow here to speak with Mr Chisholm,” he said.
“Do you mean Lord Chisholm?” The tone was icy.
Oh bugger, he thought. He’d put his foot in it before he started.
“Of course. Excuse me,” he said. “Would you please tell him that I am here.”
“Please wait here. I shall inform His Lordship of your presence.”
The man disappeared, and it seemed to Melrose that he had to wait for a long time. He wondered what he could do if they refused to speak to him. Not much without a warrant, he decided. At last the footman returned. “His Lordship will see you in his study.”
Melrose stepped into a foyer decorated with suits of armour and an even more impressive display of weapons and banners than he had seen at Dun Akyn. The footman led him down a long, dark hallway and tapped on the door at the far end.
“Enter,” said a voice.
The footman opened the door and Melrose stepped inside, taking a deep breath as he did so.
“Good morning, Your Lordship,” he said. “Detective Inspector Melrose from the Glasgow Police. I’m here about the sad matter concerning Miss Lucy Hamilton and her companion.”
“And what could you possibly want from me?” The man behind the large oak desk had wavy grey hair and an impressive grey beard. “I have already been questioned by the local police and made my statement.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you again, but I wondered if you had any news about your son? It seems he disappeared at the same time as this tragedy happened.”
“And you are insinuating there might be a connection . . .”
“Not at all, Your Lordship. As you can imagine, we are anxious to contact him to see if he can throw any light on this sad business.”
“Not as anxious as I am, and his mother,” Lord Chisholm said. “We’ve heard nothing from him. Nothing at all. We have no idea where he might have gone. For all we know he was in that boat too and his body has not yet been found.”
“You think your son might have been in the boat?”
“Isn’t that a strong possibility? He and his sweetheart decided to elope and get married and dispense with all the fuss of her overbearing parents. This Stewart character was merely the ferryman.”
He could hardly say that Lucy clearly loathed Chisholm. “That could be a possibility, sir,” he said. “We will keep looking. We’ll have an all-points bulletin to find him.”
“We understand he was not well when he left. I assume he intended to come home and be looked after by us while he recuperated. Did he try and walk back to the ferry? What if the mist had come down and he had lost his way and fallen? Or been overcome by his sickness?”
Melrose nodded. “I have the offer of a hound who seeks out lost climbers,” Melrose said. “Let’s see if that can help us track him down.”
“Good idea,” Lord Chisholm said. “Anything to find out what has happened to my son. His mother and I are sick with worry, you know. I had hoped the Glasgow Police would send up more than one junior officer. I rather hoped for men to comb the countryside. To say I am disappointed is putting it mildly.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Melrose said. “I assure you I am doing my best.”
The look indicated that his best fell far below expectations. “Well, I don’t think there’s any point in keeping you a moment longer. Get back to the island and put that dog to work.”
“Yes sir,” Melrose said. He had been dismissed.
“Where now, sir?” the driver asked.
“Back to the ferry, I suppose,” Melrose said. “I think it’s probably a waste of time to look around here any longer. If Chisholm came across on the ferry someone would have noticed.”
“They would, sir. There are those who make it their business to watch who goes in either direction. Nosy old biddies, you understand. They’d have seen.”
Melrose was inclined to agree that nosy old biddies don’t miss much.
And the ferry did not run for long after dark.
As they drove back to Kyle a sudden thought struck him.
He remembered Lord Chisholm’s arrogance, which his son apparently mirrored.
The complete assurance that he was in the right and others were merely annoying flies to be brushed aside.
And Melrose agreed with Isla’s theory: Chisholm was not the type who would sabotage a boat if he overheard his intended plotting to run off with another man.
He’d have confronted her, dragged her off to her parents to be locked up until she came to her senses.
That was exactly what he would have done!