M.C. Beaton - Death of a Poison Pen

She had caved in and rented the Morris Minor from Iain after having beaten the price down. It was a sad rust bucket of a car, but it went all right. She went to it, got in, and drove in the direction of Braikie. The cast on her arm itched and was beginning to look dirty. Jenny decided to confront the Robertses, tell Pat what she had found out, and then go back with him in the morning. He could then see the Robertses himself and she would go to the hospital and ask them when the cast could be removed.

To her relief, when she parked outside the Roberts house, she saw a light burning in a downstairs window. They had not yet gone to bed.

Mary Roberts answered the door. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “What on earth brings you calling at this time of night?”

“I’ve found out something important that may interest you.”

“Come in, then. But don’t stay long. We were just about to go to bed.”

“Where’s Penny?” asked Jenny as she was ushered into their living room and Cyril Roberts rose to meet her.

“It’s half-term. She’s gone to stay with my sister and her family in Lochinver,” said Mary. “So what brings you?”

Jenny sat down. Now she was here, she felt embarrassed and awkward. “I was thinking about that poison-pen letter that was found with Miss Beattie’s body. What if that letter had originally been meant for someone else? And someone didn’t want anyone to know their child was not their own?”

Mary Roberts looked puzzled. “But what’s that got to do with us?”

Jenny braced herself. “I thought Penny might not be your daughter.”

The Robertses exchanged glances and then burst out laughing. Mary said, “You think because we’re a right ugly pair that we couldn’t have had a beauty like Penny? Oh, don’t blush. We’ve heard that one before. Have you told anyone about this daft idea of yours?”

Jenny did not want to admit she had been eavesdropping in the police station. “I haven’t told anyone. It just came to me. You see, that reporter, Pat Mallone, and I are thinking of getting married and I wanted to give him a story. I hope you’re not offended.”

“Och, you’re young and the young can be silly. I’ll get you a cup of tea and then you can be on your way.” Mary stood up and went behind the sofa.

“I don’t really need anything,” said Jenny. Then a savage blow struck her on the back of her head and she lost consciousness.

“What did you do that for?” cried Cyril as Jenny’s body slumped across the sofa.

“She’s a chatterbox,” said Mary. “She’ll go chattering to that reporter. We can’t risk it.” She fished in Jenny’s pocket and drew out the car keys. “Go and drive that car of hers up in the hills and lose it. I’ll see to her.”

♦

Hamish was driving towards Braikie the following morning, wishing the case were closed, so that he could go fishing and enjoy this rare fake spring day. A warm wind was blowing in off the Gulf Stream and great white clouds scudded across a pale blue sky. He had almost reached the outskirts when a small figure hurtled in front of the police Land Rover and held up its arms.

Hamish swore and screeched to a halt and looked down at the excited features of Archie Brand.

He got down from the Land Rover and said severely, “I could have run you over. Don’t ever do that again.”

“But I saw something awfy weird last night.”

“What?”

“I sometimes sneak out at night and go for a walk. Don’t tell my ma.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Up on the cliffs, the other side o’ Braikie, I was up there last night. I like lying on the top of the cliffs and looking down at the waves. So I was lying in the heather when I hear this car. It drives offa the road and right to the edge o’ the cliff. Then this man gets out and he gets behind the car and gies it a God Almighty shove and it goes right o’er the cliff and down into the sea, just like in the movies. I hid right down in the heather until he had gone.”

“Get in,” said Hamish. “Show me where.” Archie clambered in beside Hamish. “What did this man look like?”

“Couldnae tell. It was right dark and I was feart. There wasnae any moon.”

What now? wondered Hamish grimly. He drove through Braikie and out and up on the cliff road until Archie shouted, “Right here!”

Hamish stopped and he and Archie got out. “tide’s out,” said Archie, tugging Hamish along by his sleeve. “We might see something.”

Hamish went to the edge and then lay down on his stomach and peered over. Large glassy waves were crashing on the rocks below and pouring over a shattered Morris Minor.

“Och, it didnae burst into flames,” said Archie’s disappointed voice at his ear. “In the fillums, they aye burst into flames.”

Hamish recognised Iain’s Morris Minor. He went to the Land Rover and radioed for help. Then he phoned Iain and asked him if he’d rented the car to Jenny. “Yes, I rented it to the lassie yesterday,” said Iain.

“You’d best get out here fast and identify it because it looks as if it’s your car that’s in the sea.”

Hamish gave him instructions and sat down to wait. “Will I have to say I was out here at midnight?” said Archie.

“I’m afraid so,” said Hamish. “You saw the man. You may remember something about him. Your mother will forgive you. It’s not a crime.”

“You don’t know my ma,” mumbled Archie miserably.

“Does she have a car?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, what’s your phone number? We’d better have her up here while they interview you.”

Hamish phoned Mrs. Brand, who said she would be with him as fast as she could.

It was as well she arrived the same time as Blair, or Hamish was sure the bad-tempered detective chief inspector would have tried to shake information out of the boy.

♦

It was a long morning. Policemen in climbing gear went down the cliff and reported that there was no body inside the car but that the driver’s window was open and that Jenny might have tried to swim to safety. Hamish was then sent back to Lochdubh to see if Jenny had been seen in the car.

Her landlady said her bed had not been slept in, Pat Mallone was nowhere to be found, and Hamish drew a blank right, left, and centre until he met the minister’s wife, Mrs. Wellington.

“I thought you would have been the last person to see her,” she boomed, fixing Hamish with a gimlet eye.

“Why’s that?”

“I saw her in the distance late last night. She was leaving the police station and she got straight into her car and drove off.”

Hamish stood staring down at her, deaf to Mrs. Wellington’s lecture about the seduction of innocent maids from London. Elspeth thought she had heard something. What if Jenny had been listening to their conversation? What if Jenny had decided to go and see the Robertses?

He should phone Blair. But Blair would go crashing around to the Roberts house and they would deny it and that would be that.

Hamish jumped into the Land Rover and sped off back in the direction of Braikie.

♦

Jenny recovered consciousness. She was bound and gagged. She felt terribly sick and was terrified of vomiting into the gag and choking. All around was blackness. Where was she?

Memory came flooding back. She had been talking to the Robertses and then she had received a blow on the head. She kicked out with her feet, which met a wooden door. She kicked again.

Cyril Roberts’s voice came from the other side, low and menacing. “I’ve a shotgun here. If you make a sound, I’ll blast you through the door.”

Jenny slumped back in terror.

Then she heard Mary Roberts’s voice. “We cannae keep her in that cupboard forever. When are you getting rid o’ her?”