The Convenient Murder Page 9

  “Mr Gell will not call again, so it is of no matter,” she said, trying to calm down her agitated nerves. Why had she thought she had the ability to emulate Mrs MacPherson and solve this murder? She had only made a fool of herself and got into trouble at every turn.

  “Then you have turned down yet another offer of marriage from a gentleman your father approves of,” Anne guessed and viewed her with pursed lips. “Your family will be extremely disappointed in you.”

  Fiona knew this already – the threat that her father would choose a husband for her always in her mind – and she realised now that it was likely to become reality instead of just a threat. If he had given Mr Gell permission to approach her, her father must have expected her to accept him. She might have just thrown away her last chance to have a say in who she married.

  Unable to bear waiting to hear the worst, she headed for the door, saying, “You will clearly enjoy telling them everything and encouraging them to ruin my life, so there is no point in speaking further of it.”

  “Where are you going?” Anne called after her, shrill-voiced.

  Fiona wore only a morning dress and had no hat with her, but the house was a suffocating presence around her, pushing her towards a nightmare future. She had no idea of where to go, only that she had to leave here immediately.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “IF LADY Tabor has anything to hide, she’s doing a good job of it,” Billy said. “She’s only left her house during the day either with her husband or with her maid, when she just went shopping. They go out every evening but always together and just to balls and the like.”

  “It’s possible that she took a lover recently, so how did they seem with each other?”

  “It’s difficult to tell with the upper classes. They always looked polite to each other but in that unsmiling way that might be unhappiness or could just be putting on an air. Mary did manage to speak to Lady Tabor’s maid...”

  “... You got your wife to help look for a murderer?” Jed interrupted. He had not thought a woman would consent to such a thing until he had met Mrs MacPherson, but perhaps women were more daring than his parents had led him to believe.

  “It was her idea. She said a lady’s maid was the only one who might know if her mistress was up to anything and the only way I could speak to her was if I acted over-friendly, which she wasna going to allow, so she had better do it herself.”

  Jed laughed. Mary was a forthright woman and he liked her for it. He did not understand his sister’s desire to simper at men and pretend to be interested in things she hated to get their attention, but then for all their affection for each other, he and his sister did not see eye to eye on a lot of subjects. “What did the maid say?”

  “Just that Lady Tabor loved her husband and would never do anything underhand, but the maid could have just been being discreet. Sorry, Jed. I wanted to find something useful.”

  “You have, I promise.” Jed dropped a coin into the other caddie’s hand, one of the ones Mr MacPherson had paid him. “Forget about it now. It doesna look as if there’s anything else to learn.”

  “Anything else you want done?” Billy was clearly happy to earn money in some way other than a caddie’s usual tasks of hauling barrels of water or household goods around, or staying up late at night to light the way home for rich folks.

  “You could keep an eye on the new Lord Strand for me, just the way you did with Lady Tabor. He’s the one Mr and Mrs MacPherson think to be the most likely killer, so be careful not to get caught asking questions.”

  “Aye. No bother.”

  Jed told him a bit about the man and where he lived, and Billy nodded and headed off, whistling. It was only midday so Jed called in at the boarding house of Doctor Atwood, the physician that Gell had been visiting. He had worked for the landlady in the past so she greeted him politely, if with the look of a lady bestowing time on someone much lower in rank. She was a slim woman of around fifty with once dark hair that was now mostly grey, plain good quality clothes and a quiet voice.

  “I’m working for a gent who thinks Mr Atwood may have done something crooked,” he told her, which was mostly true, except for the fact that Mr MacPherson did not yet know anything about this.

  “That would surprise me,” she said, offering him a chair in the parlour which was tidy with well-polished good quality furniture that was growing shabby, as if it had seen better days. He happened to know that its owner had had the opposite life, born into such poverty that it was a miracle she had not starved to death and somehow making a marriage to a wealthy solicitor, now deceased. She had rid herself of the coarse accent she had been born with and had learned the airs of a lady so well that she doubtless had all her tenants thinking themselves fortunate to live under the roof of so high quality a woman. She sat opposite him with perfect posture and opened her fan, waving it vaguely as she spoke. “Mr Atwood is physician to some important people. Why would he risk his career, which seems to make him a comfortable sum, for something nefarious?”

  Jed had no idea what nefarious meant, so he ignored it. “There’s a gent we suspect of wrong-doing who’s been visiting Mr Atwood here regularly rather than at his office. A Mr Gell?”

  “His cousin? Of course he calls upon Doctor Atwood here: he has no need of any treatment. While Mr Gell considers himself a fine gentleman, he hasn’t entirely cut ties with the middle-class members of his family.”

  “That explains it.” Gell was supposed to be a charming man – could he have convinced his cousin he needed hemlock for some innocent purpose? “You said that Mr Gell thinks well of himself. What’s your opinion, Mistress?”

  The corners of her mouth turned downwards. “I wouldna be surprised to hear he had asked Doctor Atwood for money. Mr Gell has the outer refinements of a fine gentleman but he has the common, money-grabbing mind of something else entirely. I wouldna trust him and, in my opinion, Doctor Atwood is worth ten of him, being an honest, hard-working man who will show someone kindness without expecting to gain anything from it.”

  Her suggestion was that Mr Gell’s nature was not kind, which was interesting. He thanked her for her assistance and, rather than offering her payment for her information which he knew would have insulted her, he said he had time on his hands to run errands and fetched two sacks of coal for her.

  He was on his way back to the central part of the city, thinking over what he had learnt, when a wee laddie rushed up to him. It was Gabe, a boy Jed had asked to watch a pawnbrokers for him.

  “There’s a man trying to sell the watch,” the lad said breathlessly.

  “Show me.”

  Jed ran after Gabe, through an alleyway and down the street, avoiding the numerous people meandering around the shops.

  Gabe came to a halt in front of a small dingy shop and peered in the window. “There he is,” he said and pointed to a man inside, who was little more than a shadow from here.

  “Good job,” Jed told him and handed out another coin.

  Gabe took it with a grin and strolled off, disappearing into the crowds. Jed entered the shop just as the owner paid the man some money. Jed got a look at the watch on the counter and saw that it matched the description Mr and Mrs MacPherson had given him of the one taken from Lady Strand’s house. There was no sign of the handkerchief but that would hardly have been worth much: perhaps it had been used to wipe a bleeding wound or to wrap around the watch and had then been thrown away.

  While the thief was talking to the shop owner, apparently in no hurry to leave, Jed took a good look at him. He was little older than Jed himself – perhaps twenty – with the kind of small, slim build common in people who often needed to climb through windows. His brown hair was tied with an old boot strap and his clothes were smarter than Jed would have expected: smart blue coat over a clean shirt with neat neck cloth; blue breeches, white stockings with only a few mud stains and black shoes with buckles. The man must be good at his job, if it could be called that.

  The thief finally st
opped chattering and left the shop, giving Jed a glimpse of his damaged ear, just as Lady Strand had mentioned to Mr and Mrs MacPherson. Jed followed him and, once they were in the street, he grabbed the smaller man, twisting a hand behind his back.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” the thief objected, squirming. He had a Welsh accent, low and musical. “I’ll call the town guards on you.”

  Jed snorted, amused by the man’s audacity. “And what will you tell them about the fob watch stolen from Lady Strand’s house that you just sold?” The man swore and struggled harder against Jed’s firm grip. “Easy. I willna have you arrested if you answer my questions.”

  The thief stopped wriggling. “What questions?”

  Jed relaxed his grip and the thief suddenly shoved him, getting free. The thief raced down the street and Jed set off after him, both of them impeded by all the obstacles in their way, dodging round people, carts and stalls. The thief was quick but Jed had more stamina and, after a few minutes, he began to close in on him. When the thief tripped on a loose cobblestone Jed hurled himself at him, knocking them both to the ground.

  As they both panted for breath, Jed pulled one of the thief’s shoes off to prevent another escape. Most people hastened past them, not wanting to be caught up in whatever was going on, but a few stood and stared down at them.

  “Right then,” Jed said, sitting up and holding on tightly to the man’s coat collar. “Do you feel more talkative now?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MISS CHIVERTON was glad to arrive safely at her brother Eddie’s home without anyone of her acquaintance seeing her in her plain house clothes, with no bonnet or gloves. She had walked too, since her father had already taken out the carriage, which was even more unladylike. Well-dressed strangers had frowned at her until she felt like a criminal.

  Eddie took in her appearance when he opened the door to her. Without a word, he took her hand and led her to the back parlour, poured a glass of brandy and handed it to her. “What is wrong?”

  She sank into a nearby chair and took the drink. She coughed a bit as she drank it, since it was stronger than she was used to, but she finished it before speaking. “Eddie, will you take me out of Edinburgh? I do not care where: I have had more than I can take of men and of the rest of our family. If they ask me any questions I fear I will shout at them and ruin my life even further.”

  He sat down opposite her, his hands resting on his thighs. “Is this about marriage?”

  “Mr Gell proposed.” She continued quickly, “Yes, you were right and Mr McDonald was right and everyone was right except for me. I should never have paid him so much attention and now Anne knows that I have turned him down and means to tell Papa. He will either expect me to have another engagement arranged or he will choose someone himself and I am at a complete loss to know what to do.” She realised she was holding her glass so tightly that she might break it so she put it down on a coffee table, her hand shaking as she did so.

  “You must reach a decision soon. I wish I could convince him to give you a chance to meet someone you can care about but you know how he regards me. Would you not rather go and talk to Mrs MacPherson? It might help you to get the opinion of a woman.”

  “Later, it would, but I would still have to return home today and I fear...” She broke off, unable to put into words the dread she felt at having a disastrous future chosen for her and losing all freedom.

  “If we leave, even for a few days, it will make Father even more angry.”

  She refused to think of that. She had to leave and if she went alone she might never return. No, that was not even true since she had no money and no particular skill she could use to gain employment. Her father owned her and could dispose of her as he wished. “I will deal with that when we return. At least it will give me a bit of time to decide what to say to him.”

  He gave a wry smile. “Where do you wish to go?”

  She felt her worries start to fade. She knew this would solve nothing but the chance to spend a day or two doing whatever she liked felt like heaven. “Never has anyone ever had a better brother than you.”

  He laughed. “I will send for your maid so she can pack a small bag and bring it here. We had better go quickly as it will not take Father long to guess that you would come to me. I will stop at the theatre on our way out of the city to tell Alex I will be gone a couple of days.”

  “Could he not accompany us?” she asked and then realised that, as ludicrous as the idea was, having him with them would compromise her reputation. “I suppose not. If he objects, I will think of another solution.”

  “Alex adores you,” he said, getting to his feet. “Of course he will not mind. Now, where is it we are going?”

  She had not considered this. It would take too long to go to her family’s estate and she and Eddie could not just drive about in the carriage. Where else was there? A thought occurred to her but, no, that would be too audacious.

  “What are you considering to get that glint in your eye?” Eddie asked her.

  She could think of nowhere else and it might prove useful. It was also the last location anyone would think to look for her; the last place anyone might reasonably think she would want to go to. “You would not be alarmed at spending the night in a dead man’s house, would you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  JED RANG the doorbell of Mr MacPherson’s house. In all honesty, he had preferred visiting Mrs MacPherson’s former home: Lady Huntly had terrified him but he had never had to talk to her and the butler had been nicer to him there.

  Mr MacPherson’s butler opened the door and glared at him. “What is it?”

  The snooty fellow certainly knew by now that Mr and Mrs MacPherson sometimes hired Jed to do work for them, so he was just trying to intimidate Jed, who straightened. “Information for Mr and Mrs MacPherson.”

  “Then you should use the tradesman’s entrance.”

  “I’m not here to fix anything inside,” Jed said firmly. “I’m here to speak to the master or lady of the house.”

  The butler opened the door just enough to allow Jed to squeeze past. “Dinna touch anything,” the butler ordered, leaving him in the draughty hallway. A minute later he returned, with an even more sour expression, and nodded towards the drawing room. “In there and take off your cap.”

  Jed gave a curt nod and pulled the cloth cap from his sandy-coloured hair. He could not afford to be rude to the butler, no matter how he was treated, as someone in that position could cause a lot of trouble for him. He walked into the drawing room, not needing the instruction to avoid touching any of the expensive, fragile knickknacks lying around. Jed had a large muscular body, which was useful for his work, but he could be clumsy and he had nightmares about breaking something in a place like this that was worth more than his life.

  Mrs MacPherson put down the book she had been reading. She was always reading something when he saw her; Jed was forced to get schooling as part of his job and could not understand why anyone would willingly read, but who could understand the way wealthy folks thought? She smiled at him as she said, “Please sit down, Mr Cassell.”

  It was worth putting up with that miserable butler to hear Mrs MacPherson call Jed ‘Mr’ as if he was someone important. He liked her better than any of the other toffs, as she was always kind and polite and seeing her pretty face surrounded by those vivid red curls always brightened his day. He did not think of her in a disrespectful way or forgetting his place; it was not lust or romance he felt when he looked at her, but more the awe that someone might feel looking at anyone beautiful and good, whose presence somehow seemed to make the world a bit less grubby.

  Mr MacPherson was sitting there too, a newssheet in his hands. Jed had been pleased when these two got married as there was something of a fairytale prince and princess about both of them, Mr MacPherson just as attractive and good-hearted as she was. Neither of them knew about physical work or any of the mess and trouble ordinary people faced daily; they were almost like a
different species, living the kinds of lives he could not even imagine.

  He sat down carefully in the upholstered chair they offered him, hoping he would get no dirt on it, too nervous to ever be comfortable on such a finely crafted piece of furniture.

  “What have you found out, Jed?” Mr MacPherson asked, dropping the newssheet onto the little table beside him so he could give Jed all his attention.

  Jed lived for moments like this, when he felt like he too was solving crimes and helping people. “I found the thief who robbed Lady Strand, sir, and I found out who hired him.” They both leaned slightly towards him, eager to hear this. “It was Mr McIntoll.”

  They exchanged glances and Mrs MacPherson said, “Was it the family heirloom Lord Strand won from him that he was after?”

  “Aye, Ma’am, but Lady Strand came downstairs and startled him, so he ran off. He wasna meant to take the fob watch but he’s a thief after all, so he couldna resist it.”

  “Then it was precious to him despite the way he lost it,” Mrs MacPherson said, “perhaps enough to kill for.”

  “There’s another thing. Mr Gell has a cousin who’s a physician and he frequently spends time at the physician’s home. We thought – me and another caddie – that Mr Gell could have got the poison from him. Also, the physician’s landlady doesna like Mr Gell in the least. She suggested he couldna be trusted and wouldna help anyone else unless there was profit in it for him.”

  Mr MacPherson exchanged a look with his wife, their interest clearly caught by Jed’s information. “Then you have found us two paths to follow that could lead us to both the thief and the murderer.”