ome fifteen minutes later I was alone in my room dressing for dinner, with a vow to drink no more whisky that night, when I heard Holmes’s familiar sharp rap on my door. He entered, glanced at my formal attire, and smiled. He was wearing his dressing gown and slippers, pipe in hand.
‘Holmes!’ I cried. ‘We are expected in ten minutes for supper!’
‘Please convey my apologies, Watson. I am going to remain in my room to think. I have sent down for some soup. You can say I am feeling unwell. But do keep your eyes and ears open.’
‘Are you feeling unwell?’ I asked.
‘Only fatigued. And I have much to ponder.’ As I continued to dress, he perched himself on a large armchair by the fire and stared into the flames, his legs drawn in close, his pipe glowing. It was a posture I had seen before and I knew it signalled a serious session of brain-work.
‘Holmes,’ said I, struggling with my tie as I peered into a veined and silvered antique mirror which reflected only a blur, ‘What I cannot understand is the motive behind sending Fiona’s head to the South of France. It seems that several people had reason to wish the girl dead, but why go to the bizarre lengths of transporting it there?’
‘Agreed. It is most puzzling. Such an act speaks of deep-seated hatred. It was meant to stun, to hurt, to wound someone on the receiving end. The act was cold and calculating; it took much planning and complex execution.’
‘Perhaps if we could find the messenger—’
‘I think not, Watson. It was most likely a hired hand, possibly unconnected to anyone else in this drama, and the disguise and the cold trail leave us few options to pursue. I wager the deliverer did not know the exact contents of the package.’
‘Yet he knew to keep it cold.’ I could not see to make the tie behave and squinted into the mirror.
‘Yes, but that could be explained, a perishable comestible for example. In any case, it would have been delivered to the family as a gift, and the bribes ensured a reasonable chance of it arriving as intended. Expensive luxuries are often sent to hotels of that kind. We are seeking someone with a long simmering animosity, and a sadistic nature. Our investigation thus far has disclosed a nest of vipers, of jealousies and intrigue here at Braedern. Fiona’s head was a message intended for someone in the family. Consider their reactions.’
‘Well, it was shocking enough to horrify everyone, Holmes.’
‘Yes. But I thought that the laird was most seriously wounded. And now that his paternity is confirmed – I will admit that it was an immediate theory of mine – he was clearly the most affected there. Many have reason to hate him. First there is his mysteriously departed wife. Can we be sure there are none who wish to avenge her? Both sons feel out of favour. Then there is Cameron Coupe, who by all accounts should have the running of the place – and who apparently thought little or nothing of kidnapping and shaving the girl.’
‘But even the laird himself is not free of suspicion,’ said I. ‘Could he not have planned all of this to rid himself of an inconvenient daughter, and at the same time pin it on another person who might be giving him trouble?’
‘Bravo, Watson, your theories improve. It is possible, but if so, he is a remarkable actor. Did you notice that he was not surprised that threatening notes had been sent to Dr Janvier? How would he know this? But I digress. On the subject of Fiona, we cannot discount him yet, but my instincts run counter to this theory. We must also look at the persons least affected by the head.’
My bow tie eluded my efforts a third time. ‘Devil take it, Holmes. Tie this for me, will you? It is difficult to see in here.’
He got up, squinted, and moved me into better light. As he managed the recalcitrant tie for me, I realized how dim the room was. The corners were shrouded in darkness, and while electric light had been laid in various parts of the castle, it apparently had not in this tower.
Hail continued to rattle on the exterior of the castle, the wind moaned outside and with the draught, various candles around the room flickered and the curtains moved on the wall. I shuddered.
Holmes chuckled. ‘Steady, Watson.’
‘Merely a draught. A chill.’
He patted me on the arm and resumed his seat by the fire. I continued with my cufflinks.
‘There was one person who reacted least to the delivery of the head, Watson, surely you noticed this?’
‘Isla McLaren, do you mean? I would not describe her as having had no reaction. I looked to her immediately and I would be prepared to swear that it came as a severe and horrifying surprise.’
‘Yes, followed, however by a remarkably quick recovery.’
‘True, but what would be her motive? Holmes, I cannot believe—’
‘We should not eliminate anyone at this point. Think, Watson.’
I pondered this. I liked Isla McLaren and had been impressed by her intelligence, humour and desire to help. But I knew that this perhaps clouded my thinking on the matter. I tried to apply Holmes’s pragmatic approach to this question.
‘Hmm. It is hard to imagine. Perhaps if she could somehow pin this on Charles and have him removed from his position, her husband Alistair might be given the running of the distillery?’
‘Possibly. What else? Never be satisfied with only one theory, Watson.’
‘I do not know, then! Jealousy, perhaps? I do not sense it from her, though.’
A sudden draught extinguished the candle next to Holmes and he was now silhouetted by the fire. He remained silent.
‘All right. I do have another theory,’ I offered. ‘Could this … no, that is a preposterous idea.’
‘Relight the candles, would you? Go ahead, speak it. While you may not glow brightly yourself, Watson, our conversations do occasionally serve to illuminate my own processes.’
I sighed and lit a match. He had made a similar remark during our Dartmoor adventure, but I decided to focus on the faint compliment behind the sentiment. ‘Well, here is an alternate motive,’ said I, ‘one that paid off handsomely. What if the entire reason was to get you to come to Braedern?’
Holmes swivelled to face me in surprise.
‘It certainly worked,’ I added.
He took his pipe from his mouth and saluted me with it. ‘Why, you are absolutely correct, Watson!’
I smiled.
‘It is a preposterous idea.’
Just as he said this, the candles on the table next to him blew out again, and the room was plunged into total darkness.