Dennis had meant to be up in time to destroy Katie’s letter before his wife saw it, but he had been so frantic with worry that he had not fallen asleep until the early hours. When he did wake up, it was too late, for Beth had already gone downstairs.
She greeted him with the usual kiss when he went into the kitchen. ‘How do you feel this morning, Dennis?’ she asked solicitously.
‘I’m a lot better.’ He had relaxed a little at her easy manner, and tried to sound offhand as he said, ‘Was there any mail today?’
‘Nothing important.’
His spirits soared. That was all he needed to know, Katie had been bluffing. ‘It’s funny what a good night’s rest can do,’ he laughed, putting his arm round his wife’s waist. ‘I feel on top of the world. I even feel like taking you back to bed and …’
‘Now, now,’ Beth smiled, turning back to the cooker. ‘Sit down and eat your breakfast. We can go to bed early tonight … if you still feel up to it.’
Having breakfast in the kitchen, Angus knew that there was something he should remember, if only his mind was clearer. He could not think where Marguerite was, but he had a vague feeling that she had gone off with another man, which should have distressed him since she had been frigid with him for most of their married life, but, strangely, did not upset him in the slightest. He had slept much later than usual, and whilst shaving he had noticed that his old scar looked red and angry – he had become so used to it that he scarcely noticed it any more and could not think how he came by it.
Laying another slice of toast on his side plate, he looked at the pearl handle of the small knife already there. It was all wrong. It should have a bone handle and a much longer blade … He gave his head an irritated shake. Why on earth had that come into his mind? He tried to figure it out, but all he could think of was his breakfast. After spreading his toast lavishly with butter, he was biting into it when the image of a small pair of scissors lying against a skirting board swam into his consciousness.
The picture worried him, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not rid himself of it, and gradually other details came back to him. He had spotted the scissors one day months ago in one of the garrets. He could recall picking them up and burying them in the garden, but whose had they been? He was so bewildered that the answer eluded him, and he allowed the scene to unfold in his memory. He had returned to the garret and rifled through the chest of drawers, where he had unearthed some items of underwear – ladies’ underwear – and, under the lining paper, a small amount of money which he had left untouched.
He had totally forgotten the incident until now, and was at a loss to think who had been the owner of the items. It must have been some woman – or a girl? A girl! Angus almost choked as the solution hit him with the impact of a sledge-hammer. Katie Mair! She had used the nail scissors to score his face! That was why he had the scar!
Unable to eat another mouthful, he leaned back in his chair, his innards bubbling as if they were fermenting in yeast. How could he have forgotten? It was his need to take retribution on her that had made him concentrate all his activities in the garret where she used to sleep. This was what he had been trying to remember – the reason for the ropes, the sticks, the whip! He had sometimes thought that it was Marguerite he was meaning to punish for the years she had withheld her favours, but it wasn’t Marguerite at all, it was that flipperty-gibbet, Katie. He took a deep breath and was relieved that everything remained as clear to him as before. All he had to do was to bring Katie Mair to Fenty, and he was almost sure that he knew where to find her! It was all to the good that Betty was not here to stop him.
‘Where did she put the car keys?’ he muttered, when he stood up. ‘They are usually lying on … yes, here they are.’
When he went outside, a strange car was sitting behind his, but he had something far more important on his mind than to fret about a trifle like that. When he opened the driver’s door, his arm ached as if he had been overworking it, but so many unexplained things had been happening to him lately that he thought nothing of it. He was on his way to bring about the culmination of the hatred he had nursed for many years until his mind had betrayed him – and nothing else was of any consequence.
***
The letter would have been delivered this morning, Katie reflected – there could only be one Mrs Dennis McKay in Queen Street, Peterhead. Would she show it to Dennis and believe his lies when he denied everything? Or did she know he wasn’t to be trusted?
Lifting the letter she herself had received, Katie read it again and was surprised that it didn’t upset her as much as it had when she read it first. George had said the next time she heard from him would be through a solicitor, and he had meant it. He had a nerve, though, expecting her to divorce him so he could marry that Lizann he was living with – it just showed he had double standards. He had condemned her for sleeping with somebody she wasn’t married to, but it was all right for him. She’d a good mind not to release him from the vows he had made on the day of their wedding, but what was the point? He would never come back to her.
Determined to submerge herself no longer in useless self-pity, Katie stood up to start on the housework she had neglected since her husband walked out, and the kitchen was shining spotlessly when someone knocked at the door two hours later. She contemplated not answering – it certainly wouldn’t be George – but curiosity got the better of her. ‘Mr Gunn!’ she exclaimed, stepping back in alarm.
‘You seem surprised to see me, Katie,’ he smiled.
He looked much older, his face grey as if he had been ill, and there was something about his eyes that alerted her to danger and made her keep a firm grip on the half-open door. ‘What do you want?’
‘I came to … ask how Sammy is.’
Gathering that he didn’t know his son was dead, she couldn’t help being sorry for him and impetuously opened the door a bit farther. ‘You’d better come in. I’ll light the fire and put the kettle on for a cup of tea.’
He followed her inside. ‘Do not bother. I mean to leave as soon as you tell me about my son.’
‘Sammy died a long time ago, Mr Gunn,’ she said, quietly. ‘I thought they would have told you.’
‘I was notified by the police when he was committed to Ladysbridge but I had no communication from the institution itself, not at that time nor at any later date.’ A sly smile stole over his face. ‘Nevertheless, I did know that he was dead. Your young man told me, and although he swore that he did not know where you were, I guessed that you must have come back to Cullen.’
A muscle jumped in his cheek as he stared over the table at the unlit fire – set with sticks she had gathered from the shore some days before and had stacked in the yard to dry – then he said, ‘I did not come to ask about Sammy.’
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up in fear, his eyes were so glazed. ‘Why did you come?’
‘The reason escapes me for the moment. My mind is not clear about many things that have happened to me lately, so if you let me talk until I can organize my thoughts, I shall probably remember what brought me here.’
She was about to ask him to sit down, but he carried on, ‘I had a housekeeper, I can recall that … but for some time now I have been looking after the house myself. My wife …’ He stopped, his nose wrinkling and his eyes turning up to the ceiling. ‘I cannot seem to … not Marguerite … another woman … Betty!’ He focused on Katie again. ‘Betty has been running the shop for me.’ He ran his long fingers through his greying hair. ‘There was a man … he wanted to take her away from me … I could not let him get away with that, so I … I …’ He broke off again, shaking his head in agitation.
It passed through Katie’s mind that Sammy had inherited his mental instability from his father, for Mr Gunn’s brain had obviously snapped, and she felt it would be better not to interrupt his train of thought, confused though it was, so she waited for him to continue.
Frowning deeply, he said, as if he were outraged by it, ‘Blood was dripping from the knife on to my trousers.’
Her own blood running cold at this, Katie steadied herself against the table and wondered if she should make a dive for the door. Unfortunately, he was nearer to it than she was, and he might …
‘He was dead. Yes, I remember that clearly. Henry Ferguson was dead … and no one will ever find his body.’ He smiled at her unexpectedly, a smile which sent shivers of ice shooting down her spine. ‘I do not know if you are aware that Sammy used to hide in a tree?’
‘I knew he’d a secret place,’ she began, then decided it would be safer to deny any knowledge of its whereabouts. ‘He never showed me where it was.’
‘Good. Was it not strange that my half-witted son provided me with the means of disposing of my wife’s lover?’ He did not wait for her to reply and went on, ‘Betty helped me to hide his body, you know.’
‘Is your wife … still alive?’ Katie had to find out – he was capable of anything in his present state.
His eyes clouded again. ‘Marguerite is dead.’
‘No, I meant your second wife.’
‘Betty? I cannot remember … there is a long blank. She was not in bed with me when I woke up, that is all I can tell you, and I do not know where she is. Perhaps she went off with that Henry fellow, after all.’
Katie had just time to think that his wife could not have gone off with the other man if he were dead, and she could not have escaped, either – otherwise she would have gone to the police and he would have been arrested – when he looked at her accusingly. ‘Why did you let Sammy make love to you and refuse me? I never understood.’
She felt as though she were being entangled in a net from which there was no escape. ‘I didn’t. I was never anything more than a friend to him.’
‘You took him into your bed.’
‘I was comforting him … he was scared of the thunder.’
‘Comforting?’ The word came out with a horribly sarcastic smirk. ‘That is a peculiar way to describe what you did, but perhaps you are right, it probably did comfort him. Yet you would not comfort me when I came to you the next night.’
Conscious that she was on thorny ground, and that he was ready to misconstrue anything she said, Katie murmured, ‘I was scared of you.’
‘Scared? Of me?’
‘I thought … I thought you were going to … kill me.’
He looked at her for a moment letting this new concept run through his mind. ‘Why should you have thought that?’
Katie tried to think of an explanation and decided to tell the truth. ‘I was only sixteen, remember, and I’d seen you hitting Sammy, and Mrs Gunn had bruises …’ She broke off knowing that she had made a mistake, because his brows had shot down and he was glowering at her furiously. She waited fearfully, watching in astonishment as the anger in his eyes was slowly replaced by puzzlement.
‘Betty was not at Fenty when you were there,’ he said, at last, adding uncertainly, ‘At least, I do not think so.’
Even knowing that she was dealing with a maniac, Katie was still startled when he said, angrily, ‘You always put Sammy first, but you will be putting my wishes first from now on.’
Feeling desperate, Katie said, ‘Doesn’t your wife put your wishes first?’
‘Marguerite does not care about my wishes!’
‘Betty?’ she ventured. ‘You’d better go home, for she’ll be wondering where you are.’
A sadness crossed his face. ‘You are always so calm, but you are right, and I should go home to her.’
Believing that she had pacified him, Katie expected him to go, but he made a lunge at her, his fingers gripping both her arms so tightly that she could feel his nails through her blouse and cardigan. ‘Betty knows what you did to me,’ he whispered.
His feet were on either side of her, his legs locking hers together so that she couldn’t move them. ‘I am taking you captive, and I will keep you locked in the garret. Do not look at me like that, Katie. I promise you will like the treats I have planned for you.’
His lips drew back into a hideous grin, his hands moved up to her neck, his elbows kept her arms imprisoned, although she was powerless against him anyway, for his eyes held her hypnotized. She was beginning to feel her senses slipping away when he gave a peculiar grunt and fell to the floor.
The spell broken, Katie gazed down at him for only a second before her knees buckled and she knew no more.
***
Beth had waited until Dennis went to work before she set off in her car, and as she drove along the coast, she thought of the letter she had received that morning. She still hadn’t got over the shock. She gave a rueful sigh. She must be a masochist, wanting to have her heart ripped apart by hearing of her husband’s infidelity when all along he had been swearing that she was the only woman in his life. Or was there a tiny grain of doubt in her mind? Did she hope, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, that Dennis was not a philanderer nor a blackmailer? But how had he come in contact with Katie Buchan? God, she had almost forgotten! Katie was the name of the girl Dennis had lodged with – slept with – at one time. Was this the same girl? He had probably come from Katie’s bed to hers, and she, a conceited fool for all her mature years, had believed that he loved her for herself, not for her money. Beth felt a sudden spurt of anger – not at Dennis nor at Katie Buchan, only at herself for being so gullible.
When she arrived in Cullen, Beth’s stomach began to churn. She had only been in the place three times before, and none of the occasions had been happy. This fourth visit also had every indication of being an ordeal, but she had better go through with it. She drove resolutely under the arch and carried on into Seatown, then, leaving the car on the main road, she walked through the huddle of familiar fisher-type houses until she came to the right one, Heart hammering, she hesitated outside. Was she a fool to stir things up? Maybe she should wait and have it out with Dennis when he came home at night … but she may as well speak to the girl now she was here.
Lifting her hand to knock, she noticed that the door was off the latch and only needed a feather-light touch of her finger to make it swing open. She was aghast at the tableau that met her eyes, but her reaction was swift. Grasping her handbag with both hands, she took three steps forward and brought it down with full force. She had intended only to stop the man from murdering the young woman, but instead of turning round angrily, he dropped like a stone, and a second later, the girl collapsed almost on top of him.
There was no sink to be seen, but noticing that the fire wasn’t lit, Beth lifted the cold kettle from the hob, tilted it to the girl’s pale lips and forced a little water through her clenched teeth. Spluttering, she came round and looked up blankly. ‘Who … ?’
‘Never mind that,’ Beth said, firmly. ‘Tell me what was going on.’
Katie’s broken explanations were almost incoherent, but Beth managed to pull one fact out. ‘So he wasn’t trying to strangle you?’
Katie rose unsteadily to her feet and sat down in one of the armchairs. ‘He was going to take me home with him and lock me up and …’
Her violent shaking made Beth murmur, ‘Tell me the rest when you’ve got over it. I’d better see to him now.’
Despite all her efforts, Angus did not come round, and she gazed at Katie helplessly. ‘I think he’s dead.’
‘He can’t be!’ Katie gasped. ‘I saw him lying like that once before, and I thought he was dead but he wasn’t.’
Beth asked no questions about this. ‘I’m nearly sure he’s dead now, but I’d better get a doctor in case he’s not.’
‘Don’t leave me here with him,’ Katie pleaded, her eyes wide with terror.
‘No, no, I’ll take you with me.’
Half an hour later, Doctor Fleming pronounced life extinct in the man he had been called to see, and as he fastened his bag, Beth said, ‘I didn’t mean to kill him. I only hit him with my handbag because …’
Lifting the weapon she indicated and hefting it in his hands, the doctor gave a reassuring smile. ‘This isn’t heavy enough to do any damage.’
‘How did he die, then?’
‘It would appear to be a heart attack. Do you know if he had any history of heart trouble?’
Beth looked at Katie, who lifted her shoulders, and the doctor said, briskly, ‘I’ll have to notify the police since it’s a sudden death. They’ll come and ask questions, but you’ve nothing to worry about. They just have to make sure that there had been no funny business going on.’
Beth had to smother a hysterical laugh at the irony of it. There had definitely been some funny business, but perhaps not enough to make the police take action.
When the doctor left, Katie was still trembling from her ordeal, her face ashen, and Beth put a match to the paper under the sticks in the fireplace to boil the kettle.
‘How did you know my name?’ Katie whispered, suddenly. ‘I don’t know who you are.’
‘Just call me Beth. Now, where do I get water, and cups … and sugar and milk?’
Katie told her, then sat silently until she was handed a cup of tea, which did help her a little, and by the time the police arrived she was able to answer all their questions lucidly, and to explain why the dead man had been there. The sergeant – Johnny Martin promoted from constable – already knew of her connection with the Gunns, but other details had to be filled in before he was satisfied that Angus had not been in his right mind at the time of his death. At last, he said, ‘Well, Katie, he’ll never bother you again.’
He turned away to talk to Beth, but Katie couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, the scene replaying over and over in her head, the way he had spoken in disjointed phrases, and Martin was on his way out when she said, with a deep shudder, ‘He said he’d killed somebody.’
The sergeant frowned. ‘Was that the truth, do you think? Or would you say he was that mad he could have imagined it?’
‘He was mad, but I think it was the truth.’
From being a routine, if particularly unusual, inquiry into a sudden death, it had developed into an investigation of murder, the first ever for Sergeant Martin. Without further ado, the two women were driven to the police station where he subjected Katie to such a barrage of questions that she hardly knew what she was being asked or what she was answering. After some time, he ran out of ideas, and while he considered what to do now, she had peace to think.
‘He said his wife helped him to … bury the body,’ she quavered in a few moments, having only just recalled it, ‘but his mind had gone blank after that so he didn’t know where she was. Maybe he killed her, and all.’
Martin pounced on this new information. ‘Did he tell you where he’d put the body?’
‘In the woods … at the … Howe of Fenty.’
‘He didn’t say where in the woods?’
‘Sammy’s special place.’ Katie forestalled his next question. ‘I know where it is, he took me to it once.’
With a look of grim satisfaction, the sergeant got to his feet. ‘I’d better phone the Huntly police and tell them to meet us at the Gunns’ house in … three-quarters of an hour. You’ll have to show us where to find the …’
‘You’re not making her go right now?’ Beth asked, her body rigid with indignation. ‘Can’t you see she’s had enough for one day? Leave it till tomorrow – she’ll be better able to cope with things after a night’s rest.’
‘I can’t leave it. We’re not sure Mr Gunn did kill his wife, though from what Katie said, he might have attempted it and she could be lying somewhere badly injured. We have to find her as soon as possible.’
Understanding now the reason for his urgency, Beth said, ‘Can I come with you? Katie would likely be glad to have another woman there.’
Receiving his permission, she linked arms with Katie and they followed Martin out to the police van.