The Bennett Sisters Mysteries Box Set, page 82
part #1 of Bennett Sisters Mystery Series
He ignored her. Callum called out, “Please, sir. What’s happening? Where are you taking Miss Arbuckle?”
“Ask the inspector,” the cop said.
Callum and Pascal approached Grassie’s sedan in tandem, catching his attention as he maneuvered the young caretaker into the back seat. Callum caught the door before he could close it.
“Mr. Grassie. What are you doing with Miss Arbuckle?”
The round policeman gave Callum a withering look and pulled the door from his grasp, shutting it forcefully. “For your information, sir, Miss Arbuckle is going in on her own volition.”
Merle crossed her arms, glancing at the frightened face of the young woman. “Are you charging her with something?”
Grassie glanced at each of them in turn, his jowls slack but his eyes sharp. “Miss Arbuckle has confessed to the murder of Vanora Petrie.”
———-
Sunday morning
Callum drove too fast into the center of Aberdeen. Merle hung on the door handle in the curves. She looked up through the windshield, blinking at the sudden flash of morning sunshine off the shiny hood of the heather green rental car. Bruno’s car, still under their command while the man himself was somewhere in France, waltzing around with Elise.
Pascal was gone. They’d dropped him at the airport and now she was alone with her somewhat desperate thoughts. He had admonished Merle again for not reaching Elise. It wasn’t for lack of trying. The girl just didn’t answer her cellphone. No one was sure whether it even worked in Europe. And now Pascal was off to Toulouse and points in southwest France. He had begged her to go with him, and she had not. She was an idiot, that was plain.
“What are we doing here?” She peered up at a large gray edifice, somewhere in downtown Aberdeen.
Callum turned off the car. “My mother tells me she feels some responsibility for Jinty. That Miss Arbuckle’s grandfather and my father were friends or colleagues or something. It’s hazy but somehow that’s how Mother found Jinty. Why she gave Jinty her job at Kincardie.”
Merle frowned. “Is this the police station?”
He nodded. “I have to see if I can help.”
Inside the large utilitarian building obviously built with oil money in the last few decades, a large skylight lit the space with a weak glow. Callum talked to officers, demanded attention, and pulled Merle along. What they could do for a person who had confessed to a murder was a question, but not one he wanted to answer immediately. Merle allowed herself to be prodded down hallways and up stairs, hoping the caretaker could somehow recant her confession. That seemed like the only solution. Maybe it was all just a terrible mistake.
She and Pascal had a long discussion the night before as they packed their suitcases. Why would Jinty harm Vanora? Why was she saying she had when obviously she hadn’t? Even if she did do it, why confess, at least without counsel? Who was she protecting? Was she in love with the chauffeur? Was he the culprit?
Their amour was a new one to Merle. Although she spent quite a bit of time with Jinty during the storm and its aftermath, she never noticed anything between Jinty and Killian. Pascal, on the other hand, had perceived something there, some attraction.
But Killian wasn’t on the premises the night Vanora went into the mud puddle. He was stuck in the village with no way to cross the Piney Burn.
And now they sat in the small, untidy office belonging to DI Grassie. The man was absent but they were brought tea by a female officer. A few minutes later a young woman in a black suit and heels arrived. They stood to greet her.
Her name was Glynn Barra, and she said Mrs. Logan had engaged her to help with Jinty’s defense. She was a striking woman with dark brown hair pulled back, with curly wisps escaping around her delicate features. She was friendly, especially to Callum.
“Glynn,” Callum smiled, shaking her hand. “Thank you for coming in on a Sunday.”
“You know each other?” Merle asked.
“University,” Callum said. “It’s a small country.”
“Your mother said you were back. I said I’d believe it when I saw the whites of yer een.” She smiled at him, her blue eyes flashing as she checked him out from head to toe. She seemed not displeased with the results. “Just a wee visit then? Complete with horrid storms and dying staff?”
Callum grimaced and glanced at Merle. She took up the baton: “Family adventures, actually. Lots of them.” She stuck out a hand and introduced herself. “Merle Bennett. Not Scottish, obviously. I was a guest at Kincardie House the night of the— event.”
They settled into the hard chairs and the lawyer got out a notepad and pen. Before she could ask them anything Merle said, “Did the police give you our statements? We all talked to the Inspector.”
“Not as yet. Maybe you can fill me in.”
Merle wasn’t sure she had the patience this morning. Her mind was flitting around, everywhere but here. Who was Pascal sitting next to on the flight? Why was she here in this room that smelled of damp socks and stale coffee? Why wasn’t she flying to France? She squinted at Ms. Barra, then at Callum as he gave a rough version of the night that Vanora drowned.
“But you weren’t present, Callum. Your mother tells me you were in the village. Is that right?”
“Our bridge washed out. I got caught on the village side.”
Glynn looked at Merle then, waiting. Merle said, “Look. None of us thinks she did it. She was in charge of the staff, at her young age, and there may have been conflicts that we guests didn’t know about. But Jinty was horrified, completely shocked out of her mind at the sight of Vanora floating in that puddle. She’s the one who found Vanora. Would someone who had done harm to that person scream hysterically like that when finding their body? I could barely get her to stop to breathe. Are they saying she is a good actress?”
Glynn nodded, scribbling notes. Callum said, “Have you spoken to her?”
“Not as yet.”
“Get her to describe her relationship with every staff member. A couple are quite elderly. It will help you get a picture of what went on,” Callum said.
Merle nodded. “There’s Mrs. MacKeegan, the cook. One of the older ones along with Mr. Craigg.”
“He may have seen something,” Callum added. “He was wandering around that night.”
“DI Grassie interviewed everyone. Look at their statements.”
“Who else is on staff?” Glynn asked.
“Gunni, the sheep man,” Callum said.
She flipped back a page. “Brian Gunn?”
Callum shrugged. “She calls him Gunni. And last is Killian, the chauffeur. He was in the village as well.”
“Did you see him at the Hydro?” Merle asked.
He frowned. “Not that I remember. But he wouldn’t have stayed there.”
“Where would he have stayed?” Glynn asked.
“You’ll have to ask my mother. He drove her into town that night but didn’t get back to the house either.”
Merle sat forward. “Can you get them to throw out the confession? Is that possible? She must be protecting somebody.”
Glynn eyed Merle professionally and crossed her legs. “Who would that be?”
“I don’t know. There was a suggestion— ” She glanced at Callum. Should she spread rumors? “Someone mentioned there might be a connection between Jinty and the chauffeur, Killian.”
“A romantic connection?” the attorney pressed.
Merle shrugged and tightened her lips. She’d said too much already. Not that she didn’t believe Pascal’s instincts for these things. She just hadn’t seen it herself.
“But he was in the village,” Callum reminded her.
“So he says,” Glynn said. “We need to find out what he was up to that day.”
“You saw him later on, right?” Merle asked Callum.
“Yes. He helped me gather up petrol cans and fill them. Then we took them out to the house so they could start the generator. We had to string them across the swollen burn.”
“How did you contact him when you were in the village?” Glynn asked.
Callum frowned. “Through my mother.”
Glynn smiled slightly. “She runs a tight ship, your mother.”
Merle and Callum discussed the case as they drove back up into the hills, leaving shiny, water-logged Aberdeen behind for the muddy Highlands. Puddles were drying but the rivers still were high and many roads had damage that slowed them down. They made no progress on the question of why Jinty had confessed or who might have actually done the deed. If indeed someone had harmed Vanora, Merle thought. Couldn’t she just have tipped over drunk in that puddle?
Callum dropped her at the Hydro in the village with her rolling bag. She looked back inside the car. “Are you going back for Annie?”
He nodded solemnly then, to Merle’s surprise, broke into a helpless grin. She laughed. “So things are okay now? No, don’t tell me. I’ll twist her arm.”
“Things are good,” he assured her then sped away.
With a breath of relief Merle turned to the Victorian hotel, reborn in chrome and glass. She found her parents upstairs in their room. Stasia had sprung Jack from the hospital at the crack of dawn. He was sitting in a chair, drinking coffee, and looking out onto the expansive green lawns.
“Are those rhododendrons? I’d like to take a walk in those gardens,” he said. Bernie protested.
“Take it easy for a day, Daddy,” Merle said. “The sun might actually come out. Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“And somebody needs to take me on a whisky tour,” he went on.
“Rick’s your man. He’s been talking about it for days.”
“Where’s your room, Merle?” Bernie asked. “Close by?”
“Down the hall. Francie and I are bunking together. I’m just going to put my luggage over there. Then we’ll have lunch.”
“Where is that attractive Frenchman?” Jack asked with a sly grin.
“Gone back to France,” she said. “He had to go back to work.”
“Like Elise,” Jack said. “She is certainly dedicated to the profession.”
“Yes,” Merle said. “She sure is.”
Bernadette followed Merle into the hallway, holding the door behind her. She whispered to Merle: “I’m so worried. Is Annie really done with Callum? She was very firm yesterday. Is she sure about breaking off the engagement?”
“She’s fine, Mom.” Merle gave her mother a hug. Thank god she hadn’t asked about Elise. Merle wasn’t the best bald-faced liar around. “You don’t need more to worry about. Take care of Daddy. Annie and Callum will work it out.”
“But no Scottish wedding?” Bernie looked disappointed as Merle rolled her bag away. “I was so looking forward to all those men in kilts.”
Francie was painting her fingernails when Merle unlocked the door. “There you are,” she said. “Get Pascal to his flight?”
“Yes. Unfortunately.” Merle sighed. She set her bag on a luggage stand with a thump.
“Why didn’t you go with him?” Francie asked, examining her face. “You’ve got a week of vacation, right?”
“But he didn’t.”
“So? Hang around his place and eat bon-bons and drink wine until he comes home.” She looked up, blowing her freshly blue fingertips. “You’ve been to his place, right? What’s it like?”
Merle looked out the window. “Actually I’ve never seen it.”
“Really? Where is it? Not in your little village?”
“No. Outside Toulouse somewhere.” She spun around to face her sister. “Do you think it’s strange he’s never taken me there?”
“Well, he’s apparently taken you in all sorts of places, the dirty beast.” Francie grinned. “But yeah. He should show you where he lives. Aren’t you curious?”
“He wanted me to go back with him,” Merle said, staring at her own chipped nail polish. “But there’s so much going on here. The family stuff, Daddy. Annie. And Callum took me to the police station to see what we could do about Jinty Arbuckle and her confession.”
“Did you talk to her?”
Merle shook her head. “Just her attorney. Nice woman, seemed competent. She reminded me of you a little, Francie.” She fished a business card out of her pocket. “Glynn Barra. She went to college with Callum.” She handed it to Francie.
“Great. But I still don’t get it, Merle. You’re pivoting. You aren’t needed here. You have to know that. Stasia, Annie, and I— not to mention Bernie and Rick— can take care of Daddy. Callum can handle Annie, I guess, although he’s got his mother to wrangle. Hugh and Davina went back to Edinburgh so they’re out of the mix. Why do you think we can’t manage without you?”
Merle looked at her sister, silent. Was she right? Was she not needed at all? It made her feel a little less than competent, or useful. Francie’s face softened a little as she delivered the final blow: “You do know you’re not indispensable, right?”
Merle grimaced. “Thanks. I guess.”
“We’ve got this, Merdle. Go have a Continental affair. And you could check up on the wanton young woman, our little sister, if you were in France.”
Merle frowned. “I didn’t tell Bernie and Jack about her. Do they know?”
“We decided to keep it on the D-L.” Francie stood up and tossed the business card on her dresser. “But you could find her, Merle. With Pascal’s police connections, you could find her and tell her what a thug Bruno is. I can’t believe she’s not answering her phone. What’s the worst that could happen, Merle? You look for her, or you just drink wine and get your ashes hauled. Which is perfectly acceptable.”
Merle was smiling now. “Sounds decadent.”
“And your point?”
“You want the room to yourself, is that it? You made some friends at the pub?”
Francie laughed. “Celtic shag-athon, here I come.”
Chapter 29
Aberdeen
Late Sunday
Jinty Arbuckle sat at the table in the windowless room, feeling the walls move in toward her. So it was just like they showed it on the telly, she thought, dreary and hopeless. Her teachers had tried to scare them, warned them all in school: behave or they’ll toss you in and throw away the key. And now she’d gone and done it to herself.
She hoped her father didn’t hear of it. But of course he would. He liked to read the papers. Besides she’d have to write to her mother at some point. The confession meant no public trial. That was the key thing.
Her attorney, Glynn Barra, sat across the table, waiting for an answer to a question Jinty couldn’t recall. The attorney looked serious, and a bit crabbit, like she’d rather be having a nice glass of wine somewhere than sitting across from the likes of this idjit girl. Jinty felt like she was floating, disassociated from things, in a dream.
A very bad dream, to be sure.
“I’m askin’ ye now, Jinty Arbuckle,” Ms. Barra said impatiently. “Are you doin’ the job with the chauffeur, this Killian Yarrow.”
Killian’s handsome face flashed in her mind. Even scowling, as he often was, he made her a bit melt-y. Ridiculous, school-girl feeling.
“No, ma’am. I am not.” Not for lack of trying. “Could I get some tea?”
The big clock on the wall, ticking ominously, said nearly six in the evening. Or it could be morning. There was no sky to see, dark or light. But she hadn’t lost track of the days yet. That was something to look forward to, she reckoned.
“No tea. Not till you talk to me.” Glynn Barra frowned and consulted her notes. “With someone else then? This Brian Gunn?”
“Gad, no. Who said that?”
“What is your relationship with Yarrow and Gunn?”
“I’m the caretaker. They work for Mrs. Logan, same as me.”
“They work for you?”
“Not really. They’ve made that clear.”
Barra looked up. “You had some trouble with them?”
Jinty blinked. “The first couple days I was there. After that we’ve been fine.” She sighed. “I am young. Too young and too female for some.”
“Was that Miss Petrie’s opinion?”
“So she said.”
“Tell me what happened between you and Miss Petrie.”
Images floated in her head and for a second she wasn’t sure if she’d made them up, or seen them that dark night. The words, simple and declarative, ones she’d told the Inspector, came back: “We quarreled. I pushed her and she fell into the puddle.” She recited it like a schoolgirl and even she didn’t really believe it.
Ms. Barra’s nostrils were flaring, her eyes ablaze. Didn’t she have a nice face? Wasn’t she supposed to help? “And then?”
“I walked away. Back to my room.”
“You didn’t try to help her out of the water?”
“It were just a puddle, wasn’t it? How was I to know she’d drown?”
Jinty felt the weight of her words. She was admitting to not caring whether Vanora Petrie lived or died. Whether she sucked down a load of muddy water or gasped to the surface. It seemed okay when she’d first told the fat copper but now she felt the hand of Satan on her shoulder. She was a horrible person. She had no feeling. Everyone would say so.
“What time was this?” Ms. Barra consulted her notes.
Jinty shrugged. “Midnight? A bit later. I’m not sure.”
“What were you doing outside?”
She swallowed her words. What had she said before? It was so hard to keep your story on the straight. “Coming back from the main house to my room.”
“After midnight.”
“That’s right.”
“The Bennett sisters say you came over because you were worried about Vanora. Why would you come looking for her, worrying about her and then leave her to drown?”
Jinty hung her head, unable to think. Her head hurt from all the stories swirling inside it.
Ms. Barra closed her notebook. “Jinty Arbuckle, why are you doin’ this?”
“Ma’am?”
“Covering for someone. Protecting somebody.”
She felt the blood rush up her neck involuntarily and clenched her jaw. She blinked at her attorney and kept silent.
