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Will watched from his position in the heather. He saw William come into view, still rubbing the back of his head, and watched as he stood looking about him, his other hand going up to protect his eyes from the thin but persistent sunlight. Will was fairly sure he was safe where he was. William would not try to find him. Surrounded by the vast expanse of moorland, on every side he would be confronted by the same vista stretching towards the horizon. Where could anyone make a start? There was too much landscape, too many nooks and crannies, too much heather and rock. So long as Will remained where he was, he was safe, even though he was close enough to have hit William with a pebble. If he waited patiently, William would just give up and leave.
What surprised him next was that William spoke. But he didn’t shout. No, he pitched his voice only slightly above his normal volume. That did surprise Will. Clearly then, his half-brother knew he was close at hand. Will smiled to himself. His brother was quick, that was for sure. He had to admire that. He listened to what William had to say, less and less certain now that he was as securely hidden as he had at first thought.
‘I know you’re there, I know you can hear me. I just wanted to say that I’m going back to London. I’m getting the bus from the crossroads. I’m leaving the rented car, you’ll need it to get away. I’m not going to come after you. As far as anyone knows, you overpowered me and took the car. I will keep working to prove your innocence, meanwhile get away somewhere overseas, both of you, you and Anna. Make a new start, with my blessing. I know we’ve had our differences, but after all we are brothers. I’m glad I had the chance to get to know you just a little. If you ever need anything, you can find me through Mr Bray. Just—please—let me know when you arrive safely—and—well—Godspeed.’
There was a long moment’s silence before William turned and walked away, back down the lane, past the car, pausing briefly to collect his suitcase. Then he set off resolutely down the hill towards the crossroads and the bus-stop to town.
Will got to his feet and watched him go. If William had turned at that point, he would have seen him standing there, he couldn’t have missed seeing him. But he didn’t turn back, and Will watched him go until the curve of the landscape swallowed him from view. There was a lump in Will’s throat, and he had a mad urge to run after him, but he forced it down and set off back to the car, clambering over rocks and heathery tussocks, slipping and sliding, until he reached the vehicle.
He glanced about him, checking neither William nor anyone else was nearby. He peered inside the car. On the back seat was the large brown envelope. That surprised him too, as it seemed to him William was not the forgetful type. Opening the back door and leaning inside, careful not to bump his head, he picked up the envelope and looked inside. He gave a low whistle, a chuckle, and hurriedly closed the flap again and placed the envelope in the footwell, under his jacket.
It was too good an opportunity to miss. He yanked open the door and jumped into the driver’s seat, starting the car. He rolled it slowly down the little hill, slowly over the uneven ground, gathering a little speed as it came out onto the road proper.
Sure enough, there was William still hiking to the bus-stop. What if he were to stop and offer him a lift? For a second he almost stopped, amused by the idea. But he was undecided, and the car kept going, and before he’d properly made up his mind, he was already running past William. He saw William half-turn as he drove by, but he turned his head away, not wanting to meet William’s eyes. At the crossroads Will turned the car north, towards the village and the coast beyond.
There was a full tank of petrol, he noticed. Again he smiled. Just because William was a copper didn’t mean he wasn’t a good man. William had been right, it had been good to meet, to spend some time together. It was good to know that he wasn’t alone in the world.
Constable Forbes had been driving, with William beside him in the passenger seat. William had gone to sleep, and when Forbes got out of the car to open an estate gate, Will had seized his chance. Will felt bad about hitting his brother over the head and stealing the car. He had been going to dump the car, but William had started to come round sooner than expected, and in the end it was just easier to get out and make a run for it. But he hadn’t got far.
Will hesitated now, his thoughts coming fast as he drove. He began to turn the whole thing over in his mind. Everything that had happened since William and Constable Forbes had come into the barn at six o’clock that morning as Will lay sleeping in the straw, and arrested him for the murder of Howard Denholme. He began to look at it from a new angle. In fact... Will seemed to see it all now... It all shifted in his mind and formed a new pattern. William had known... Oh he had known just what Will would do. He had to have guessed. He had known Will would double-cross him. That was why he filled the car with petrol, and left the money in the back of the car. He had known. And he had let it happen. He had let Will hit him.
Will slammed on the brakes. He had thought himself so clever, but all this time, William had been two steps ahead. Will got out of the car and stared back along the road. After a few minutes, he saw William reach the crossroads. He halted in his tracks on seeing the car with Will standing beside it, leaning negligently on the front wing. They stared at one another across a hundred yards of road.
In the distance, Will could hear the sound of an engine. William had planned his timing perfectly to fit with the one bus per day into Edinburgh. The bus appeared on the ridge behind Will, and William, turning away, hurried to meet it at the stopping point.
Will watched him get into the bus. After a few seconds the bus pulled away, and Will was never quite sure whether or not he imagined the face at the back window, and the hand that waved goodbye.
He pulled the car up outside The Dirk, taking care to leave the engine running in case a quick getaway was required. It usually was, in his experience. He sounded the horn. A couple of curtains twitched in cottage windows but other than that, nothing happened. Never a patient man, he honked again, twice. More curtains twitched, and finally the pub door was thrown open. Big Billy McHugh filled the space with his huge shoulders and even huger belly.
‘Get out of here!’ he yelled, ‘No one wants you here. Get away before I set the cops on ye. Or better yet, teach you a lesson maself. Run off with your tail between your legs, like you did last time.’
Will said nothing, did nothing. Billy McHugh wasn’t quite ready to step aside, however. Pulling off his apron and throwing it aside, he stepped out into the street, pushing up his sleeves as if preparing for a fight.
Will smiled and let down his window. He could never compete with Billy McHugh in a boxing competition, but that wasn’t what this was about. It wasn’t about having a fist-fight to see which of them could defeat the other. Billy seemed to be the only one who didn’t know that.
Someone small with bright red hair pushed past the barman. Anna. Ignoring her husband, now yelling at her to get back inside the bar ‘where she belonged’, she strolled over to the car and leaning against the door, her arms folded, said very casually, ‘So Will, what are you doing today?’
‘Oh, I’m just going for a little ride, taking in some scenery, enjoying the country air, you know the kind of thing.’ He winked at her.
‘Aye, very nice too. You’ve got a good day for it,’ she replied. She was smiling, but he could see the pain in her eyes. And the new bruise marring her cheek. ‘When are ye coming back?’ she asked softly.
‘I’m not,’ he said. He saw shock in her eyes; she winced at his words. He didn’t want to add to her pain, he just wanted to get her away from here. Forever. Raising his voice so that Billy McHugh could hear, he repeated, ‘I’m no coming back. I’m leaving right now, and I won’t ever be back here again.’
‘Good riddance,’ snarled McHugh, and a good deal more besides. Up and down the village street, people were opening windows and doors to hear what was going on.
‘Isn’t that the London policeman’s car, the one he rented in Edinburgh?’ Anna asked, looking it over as if for clues. She’d make a good police officer herself, Will thought.
He nodded. ‘Aye, it is. I’m to take it back for him.’
‘Good riddance to him an’ all!’ yelled McHugh, ‘Poking his posh nose in where it’s not wanted. Stirring up trouble for decent people, the nosy b...’
‘Hey!’ yelled Will, suddenly angry. ‘That’s my brother you’re talking about, so watch it!’
Anna leaned down to speak to him softly through the window. ‘You’d better go, he’s in a filthy temper. He’s just looking for any excuse for a fight.’
‘Let’s give him one then,’ said Will, suddenly reckless. ‘Give me a kiss.’ He caught her unawares, leaning forward to plant a kiss full on her lips.
Fear flashed in her eyes, and behind her, Billy McHugh let out a howl of fury, his face turning bright red, and the man-mountain began to lumber towards the car. Anna yelped and ran around to the other side of the car. Will leaned across to open the door for her and at the same time, he let off the brake.
‘Will!’ she protested as they rolled away. He pushed down on the accelerator, the car shot forward and within seconds, Big Billy McHugh was reduced to a sorry spectacle of impotent rage behind them.
‘I’m going to France, Mrs McHugh, and I want you to go with me.’
He slowed the car now they were beyond the fringe of the village. She gave him a look half-laughing, half-pleading. ‘That’s madness! How can I? I can’t go to France.’ In a whisper she added, ‘Oh please don’t say such things... if only...’ Her eyes were full of tears. ‘We can’t. Or at least... I can’t... you’re free to suit yourself, but I...’
‘Why can’t you?’ he asked, his voice soft and urgent. ‘Why can’t you?’ He tried to take her hand but she pushed him away.
‘I’m not free, you know that, I can’t just...’
‘You can. You can if you really want to. Come with me, Anna. You can do it if it’s what you want.’ She was torn, he could see it. He didn’t want to push her, but neither did he want to lose her now that they finally had this chance to be together. She cast a look about her, still caught halfway between laughter and fear.
‘What are we supposed to live on? Have you even got any money?’
‘Look in the back. Under the jacket.’
She lifted the sleeve of the jacket, picked up the envelope with a puzzled glance in Will’s direction, then looked inside and saw the banknotes in their neat stacks. There was a plain, leather-strapped wristwatch there too. She stared at Will in disbelief. ‘But... I don’t understand. Didn’t Dottie give the money back to him last night? We saw her slip it under his door. Did you steal it again?’
‘No, my love, it’s a wee gift from my brother. To help us start our new life together. And with his blessing.’
She sank back in the seat, staring ahead at the road, thinking. Then she said, ‘But I’ve got no passport. I’ve no luggage, no clothes, not even a handkerchief to my name!’
He captured her hand and kissed it. ‘That’s what the money’s for,’ he explained patiently.
‘But...’ she said.
He turned to face her. ‘Anna, this is it. You’ve got to choose. Either you can go back to being Billy McHugh’s punchbag, or you can come with me to France. It’s up to you. Are you a woman or a mouse?’
She gave him a look from under her lashes, and in a voice barely above a whisper said, ‘Do you love me?’
‘Oh, Anna...’
‘But do you, Will? Do you really?’
He leaned across and kissed her on the mouth, gently to begin with, but with mounting passion. ‘I love you, Anna McHugh, don’t make me go on ma own, I can’t leave you behind again. I need you wi’ me. Now, for the love of God, woman, choose!’
‘Hmm. It’s just so difficult to make up my mind. I’m so tempted to stay here with lovely Billy and continue to be beaten on a regular basis,’ she laughed. ‘What part of France are we going to?’
––––––––
HE ONLY JUST MADE IT in time to catch the train. As he raced along the platform, the guard was blowing his whistle and warning those on the platform to ‘stand clear’. But William took no notice. As the train lurched and began to slowly move out of the station, he put on a spurt and lunged for the door handle nearest him, leaping onto the step. He had to lean back to wrestle open the door. The train gathered speed and passed the end of the platform. From his doorway further along the train, the guard shouted at William, but he was inside, and had—just—made it.
The guard met William in the corridor and had a few choice things to say to him. ‘That was very foolish, sir, very foolish. I’ve a good mind to report you. You can get fined for that kind of thing. There’s a reason why...’
William, not particularly caring, pulled out his warrant card and cut him off, saying those magic words, ‘I’m sorry but this is urgent police business.’
Immediately the guard was a friend, an interested friend who hoped to have a thrilling story to pass on to his friends and family later that evening. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, Inspector, you only have to ask. I’m sure if there’s anything I can do...’
‘Thank you,’ William said, catching his breath at last and putting away the warrant card he had so fraudulently used. He wondered if law-breaking was a trait that ran in his family after all. Oh well, he thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. ‘I’m trying to track down a very pretty young woman. She’s tall, slim, with dark wavy hair. She’s likely to be travelling first class.’
‘Is that her usual modus operandi? Like one of those exotic spies, travelling everywhere in the grandest style?’ the guard asked. William said nothing and the man cleared his throat and concentrated on the job in hand. ‘Come this way, sir, I think I might know who you mean. Saw her get on just now.’ The guard turned to lead William back along the corridor, saying over his shoulder, ‘What’s she done?’
William immediately responded with a solemn, ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. It’s official police business and very hush-hush.’
‘Of course, of course,’ said the guard, enthralled but trying to appear as though this kind of thing happened on his trains every day. ‘This way, sir.’
As the train gathered speed, they made their way unsteadily along the corridor until they came to the last first class compartment. Stepping back from the glass door and pulling William with him, the guard said, ‘There she is, sir, sitting there as calm as you like. For all the world as if she’d done nothing wrong. It fair takes your breath away, don’t it? The nerve of these people!’
‘Indeed. Um, best if you go back to your position, leave this to me,’ William said, and with great reluctance, the guard did as he was told, after quickly reminding William to use the emergency brake cord if he found himself in difficulties.
As soon as the coast was clear, William slid open the door and stepped inside. Dottie looked up and her eyes widened, but then she schooled her features and gave him a neutral, disinterested glance then looked away. In the opposite corner, a stout matron eyed William suspiciously.
‘It’s a non-smoker,’ she warned him sternly, in a school-ma’am voice.
‘Yes, I realise that. That’s just what I want.’ He replied as politely as he could when really he wanted to tell her to go and boil her head.
‘Just so long as you know,’ she said, clearly determined to set him in his place.
He sat down next to Dottie, who turned away slightly. ‘Dottie...’ he pleaded.
‘Go away, William, I’m not talking to you.’ She pulled a magazine out of her bag and began to flick through the pages.
‘Dottie, if you’ll just let me explain.’
‘She said she’s not talking to you, young man, so hop it,’ chimed in the matron. He glared at her. If she thought she could wade into people’s private conversations, she could think again.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, and moved to sit on the other side of Dottie, with his back to the other woman, and effectively blocking Dottie from her view. He attempted to capture Dottie’s hand, but she snatched it free.
‘Go away, William,’ she hissed at him.
‘Look, I just want to talk to you. I need to apologise, and I can’t do that if you don’t look at me, or let me hold your hand.’ He watched her face for a moment, trying to make up his mind if she was in the mood to listen to him or if it was all just pointless. ‘Dottie...’ he added, in a soft pleading voice.
‘Very well,’ Dottie said haughtily in what he thought of as her mother’s tone, ‘You have two minutes. That’s it.’
He took a deep calming breath and said very rapidly, ‘Right. In that case, I want you to know I’m very sorry for what I said, and for upsetting you, and for doing everything wrong. I know I’m a prize idiot.’
From behind him the matron snorted and murmured, ‘You can say that again. You’re a man, aren’t you?’
He ignored her and continued, his two minutes draining away, ‘I should have listened to you, and I know it was just pride that stopped me. Dottie, please don’t be like this with me, I’m so very, very sorry.’ He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he stopped, and waited, holding his breath for the metaphorical axe to fall.
‘What about your brother?’ she asked, turning another page of her magazine and scrutinising it carefully. He wasn’t sure if he liked her asking about Will, but he simply said,
‘I let him go. I told him to get away abroad somewhere. I gave him back the money to help him get started.’
She looked at him properly now for the first time. ‘Oh William!’ she said, and even he couldn’t mistake the adoration in her voice. She leaned forward and was about to plant a kiss right on his lips, when the matron cleared her throat loudly and said,
‘Time and a place. Carrying on in public like that, it ought to be illegal. If I see a policeman, I’ll tell him to throw you both off the train!’
William sat back against the seat, his eyes shut in mock frustration.
Dottie said, ‘Did you really let him go?’
He nodded.
‘Do you think he’ll go back for Anna? She loves him deeply. I can’t bear the thought of her pining away for Will, stuck in that awful pub with that awful Billy.’
‘I’m sure he will. He loves her so much.’
She turned to face him. ‘Did you make it up with him? I know it’s hard for you to accept that he is your half-brother, but...’
‘We understood each other in the end,’ he said. ‘Actually, I think it will be rather good to know he’s out there somewhere. I asked him to keep in touch.’
‘I’m so glad. And do you think he will? Keep in touch?’ She took his hand, ignoring the matron’s warning cough.
‘I hope so. Perhaps not immediately. First I’ve got to prove he isn’t a killer. But one day, yes, I think he will get in touch and hopefully we could meet up. Once it’s safe. I’d like to introduce him to Eleanor and Edward. Then no doubt he’ll disappear again like the proverbial Scotch Mist.’
‘By the way,’ she said, rummaging in her handbag, ‘this is for you. I know he didn’t sign your paper, but Anna and I made him sign this, it should be just as good.’ She put a slip of paper in his hand. There in her own neat script were the same words that Mr Bray had written out on William’s paper, and underneath, Anna and Dottie had both signed as witnesses, and his brother’s name was written with a flourish beside the previous day’s date.
‘Oh Dottie!’ He looked down at the paper. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’
––––––––
CONVERSATION WAS STILTED due to the presence of the disapproving woman in the corner. However, after an hour or so of the gentle rocking motion of the train, the lady at last fell asleep, leaving Dottie and William effectively alone.
As soon as he realised the woman was asleep, his arm stole around Dottie’s shoulders and he drew her closer to him, feeling rather daring as he planted a kiss on her hair as she leaned her head against him.
She looked up at him with her huge eyes, her lovely eyes that so bewitched him, and he had a sudden impulse. He slid off the seat onto his knees. Taking her hand, he gave her what he hoped was an irresistibly adorable look, and said, ‘Dottie, darling, I love you so much. Please, would you do me the honour of...’
The train lurched over some points, he fell forward onto Dottie’s lap, the matron woke with a start and seizing her umbrella, brought it down on William’s head and shoulders repeatedly, shouting, ‘Get away from her, you brute! Guard! Guard!’
William, surging to his feet, was able to wrest the weapon from the woman’s hands, and stammering a half-apology, half-explanation, he turned back to Dottie who was giggling uncontrollably. ‘Dottie! Say something!’ he pleaded as the matron started to scream even more loudly for the guard. If there was anything this ‘romantic’ moment didn’t need, it was more people. He hauled Dottie to her feet and bundled her out into the corridor, slamming the door shut with rather more force than necessary and sending a warning look at the older woman. He turned back to Dottie, but his heart was sinking, the moment was gone. How could he recapture it?
She came into his arms and kissed his cheek, her gloved hands light on his shoulders. The train settled once more onto a smooth stretch of track, and William’s heart sang. He put his arms around her and held her tight. Her cheek rested against his neck, her hair tickled his chin and above the sound of the engine, and more shouts from the older woman, he heard her softly say, ‘Yes, William, I will marry you.’
He could hardly believe it. Taking half a step back, he looked into her eyes for confirmation. Her eyes were brimming with happy tears and lovelier than ever. He knew they would always bewitch and ensnare him.
‘You will?’
She nodded. And laughed. ‘I will!’ A cloud seemed to pass over her face. ‘You haven’t changed your mind?’
‘Never!’ And he hugged her fiercely, not even noticing the woman dash past them to fetch the guard.
They remained at the corridor window, clutching the rail and talking, mainly nonsense, punctuated by the occasional chaste kiss. William longed to throw convention to the wind and really kiss her—but he just couldn’t do that here where absolutely anyone might walk by and see them.
‘There they are!’
William rolled his eyes. The matron was back, with reinforcements in the shape of the guard and a couple of sturdy-looking ladies in large hats. Seeing William thus with his arms around Dottie, and in the process of placing another kiss on her mouth, the guard shouted.
‘Oi! Stop that!’
Dottie laughed loudly, the guard fumbled for his whistle, the matron, horrified, shouted abuse and once more set about William with her umbrella. The other ladies looked as if they’d like to see a bit more kissing. The guard found and blew his whistle, and everyone froze for a moment.
It took almost ten minutes for Dottie to reassure everyone that she was not being molested. Then it took almost as long again for William to apologise to the guard for misusing his powers as a police officer, calling on the man’s human feelings with regard to romance, as it was quite clear by now that Dottie was not in the least a felon on the run. If she was ‘of interest’ to the police, it was from a purely personal perspective.
The guard’s pride was ruffled, and the matron, transferring her disgust to Dottie, had clearly set her down as ‘no better than she should be’. This nonsensical phrase was one often used by her mother’s generation to indicate a young woman overly free with her favours, and Dottie was not in the least put out by it.
Eventually they settled back in the compartment. William had hoped to find an unoccupied one, but the train had filled up. He reflected perhaps it was just as well. He was all too ready to get completely carried away by his passionate feelings, and was afraid he might embarrass Dottie with inappropriate behaviour.
Instead it was easier to talk about the events in Lower Bar, in soft voices so as not to wake the older woman again.
William told her about the private enquiry agent who had come forward in London. He enjoyed the way her eyes fixed on him, as she seemed to hang on every word he said.
‘So if I can only prove it was someone else who killed Howard Denholme, my brother will be free of the worry of being a wanted man.’
‘Well I think I know who it was,’ she said. He stared at her.
‘His wife?’ he suggested. She shook her head. ‘The procurator himself? Surely he wouldn’t take such a huge risk.’ Dottie shook her head again.
‘It was Millicent Masters.’
‘What? Who on earth is Millicent Masters?’
‘Well, first and foremost, she is the writer of some rather gruesome gangster crime novels.’
He nodded, but she could tell he was still none the wiser.
‘And,’ she added, feeling that this was her pièce-de-résistance, ‘she is the mother of Mrs Denholme.’
He sat back, smiling and shaking his head. ‘How do you know this?’
‘She told me, in part, and in part I gathered it by gossiping with people. You’re not the only detective around, you know.’
‘I still don’t...’
‘Well, it’s easy. Mr Denholme forbade his wife to have anything to do with her, and so she couldn’t go to the house. She was staying at the inn, at the same time as us.’
‘What, that rather large, old woman?’
‘The one with the beastly little dog, yes. And even her dog’s related to the Denholmes’ dog. Her dog is Madame Bovary, and theirs is Gustave. Well, the book Madame Bovary was written by Gustave Flaubert, wasn’t it, and it’s Miss Masters’ favourite book. How many Pekineses with French names are there in Lower Bar, do you think? In fact I saw the children running about with their dog and hers, when I went up to the house the second time. And, I saw her luggage inside the back door, so she’s clearly moved up to the house now Mr Denholme is dead. It seems Mr Denholme had upset his wife by planning to send their son away to boarding school, and apparently he didn’t like the boys’ dog any better than his mother-in-law, so it was not a happy marriage, from what I’ve heard. Plus, on the night I arrived, I saw Miss Masters walking off along the road with the dog, in the direction of the Denholmes’ house, as I have since discovered.’
‘How tall is she?’ he asked.
‘Not very, I don’t think.’ Dottie wrinkled her nose, trying to remember if she had ever seen Miss Masters on her feet. ‘Why?’
‘Well the person who shot Howard Denholme was short.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘From the position of the wound. Do you think she would be capable of doing such a thing?’
‘Oh yes,’ Dottie said unhesitatingly. ‘I should think she’s pretty ruthless if she has to be. She’s got a jolly strong handshake too, if that helps. And lots of people in her books get shot, so she probably knows all about firearms. I bet the Denholmes’ staff helped with setting the scene afterwards.’
William thought for a few minutes. Then he said, ‘I still don’t know who was behind the thefts and the threatening notes, though I suspect it was Denholme himself.’
‘They owed money to everyone,’ Dottie said. ‘The woman in the needlework shop told me that. Perhaps another insurance fraud?’
‘Hmm, quite likely. Well, thank you, I think that might bear looking into, when I get back to work tomorrow.’
‘So soon?’
‘A policeman’s lot is not a happy one,’ he said with a grin. He hugged her close, and dropped another kiss on her cheek. ‘So, what else did your detective skills find out?’
‘Well, let me think. Alex Nelson was the one who did the poaching that they arrested Will for when Anna had to give him an alibi. That was the venison that was in the ‘chicken’ casserole. Big Billy McHugh is a wife-beater, but that’s not exactly a surprise, and he is the brother of Mr Nelson’s wife.’
‘Well I can equal that. Howard Denholme made his money with boot polish.’
She turned and laughed. ‘Oh William, everyone knows that.’ After a moment she said, ‘What time was the crime committed?’
‘About eleven o’clock to midnight.’
‘Hmm. And it was reported when?’
‘Well, the call came through to Forbes at about five minutes to seven the following morning.’
‘I’m a bit surprised Mrs Denholme was up early enough to know her husband was dead. Did they find him dead, then wake her and tell her immediately?’
William looked puzzled. ‘I suppose they must have. I didn’t actually ask that. But when I got there fifteen minutes later, she had already been sedated by the doctor. Not that I saw him.’
‘That seems awfully quick. Oh but, William, wait! The woman from the needlecraft shop heard the doctor talking to the minister on his way back from the house—at six o’clock. But surely they hadn’t even found the dead man by that time?’
William couldn’t help a groan of dismay. ‘Of course! I bet she was sedated by the doctor long before they rang the police. They wouldn’t want to risk me asking her questions, as she appears to be a rather nervy little thing. I bet she was sedated by the doctor at six o’clock, to make sure she was well and truly under by the time I got there. First thing tomorrow, I’ll speak to the doctor, then I’m going to contact the exchange and see what time the call was put through to the doctor. And if that fails, I’ll get hold of that Gregg and find out if he went to collect the doctor in his horse and cart. Someone must know something. You see, the wet mud on the dead man’s boots would seem to bear out the idea that everything was stage-managed, after he was dead. Also, I find it quite impossible to believe no one heard the shot. In the dead of night, with the study door open? Even three floors up, the staff—and Mrs Denholme—had to have heard it.’ He was itching to get back to London to see what he could find out with the aid of the resources of the Metropolitan police, always trusting the assistant commander could countermand the local procurator fiscal, of course.
The train wound its way on. They ate tasteless sandwiches and drank revolting railway coffee. Dottie’s head presently nodded onto William’s shoulder, and soon he himself drifted off to sleep.
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THEY WERE AWOKEN BY a new guard coming through the train, announcing their imminent arrival in York.
‘Good,’ said the matron, ‘That’s my stop.’ She gave the lovers a look that told them all too clearly that she couldn’t wait to be away from their immoral company.
‘Change at York for all stations to Scarborough,’ the guard continued and moved on.
‘Scarborough,’ Dottie commented, ‘George’s sister Diana is staying there for a while. She’s been ill.’ Dottie stretched and yawned.
‘I’m not sure we could still consider pregnancy an illness in this day and age,’ William said. It was a comment that was to ruin his happiness. How often in the coming weeks and months he wished he had kept his mouth shut.
She turned to look at him. He knew immediately he’d said something he shouldn’t have. After all, he was only in Diana’s confidence because of the police investigation in which her lover had been murdered. But William had been fast asleep only moments earlier, dreaming of his wonderful future life with his beloved Dottie, and only now he was beginning to gather his faculties.
‘What did you say?’ she asked in a colourless voice. ‘Pregnant? I’m talking about George’s sister, Diana.’
Then she remembered the talk at the dinner table with George’s friends, Charles and Alistair.
‘George’s sister? William? You’re saying George’s sister, Diana, is pregnant?’
She remembered Charles and Alistair told her there had been talk about the dead man, Archie Dunne, and George’s sister, Diana Gascoigne. She remembered previous stories she’d heard, of girls ‘in trouble’ being sent away to have their babies secretly to avoid disgrace to their families and the ruin of their reputation. She thought of Mrs Carmichael, dead, without seeing the man who had been the baby she had given up for adoption thirty years earlier. Dottie’s eyes clouded and filled with tears as she realised that her William had kept this secret from her, would always keep secrets from her because of his job. Her heart felt as if it crumbled and fell into dust.
Still he hadn’t spoken. In those few tiny seconds she had been thinking these thoughts, he hadn’t said a word. And now he looked at her, his face full of his guilty knowledge, and the dusty ruins of her heart blew away on a cold harsh wind.
She didn’t know what to say. She got to her feet. The train was slowing down. Dottie cast about her, unsure what to do or say.
William put out his hand. Softly he said, ‘Dottie, darling, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m half asleep, I forgot for a moment it was to be kept quiet...’ He put out a hand to her, but she moved away, he couldn’t reach her. The matron was still there, gathering her luggage and watching them closely.
‘Dottie, darling,’ he pleaded again, more insistently.
‘Don’t call me that. Tell me what you know.’ Her voice was quiet, but not soft as it had been just a short while earlier. No longer the voice of his lover. He knew it was already too late. There was nothing, nothing, he could say or do now.
‘Look, it’s because of the investigation into Archie Dunne’s murder. Diana was Archie’s mistress.’
‘I know that.’ Her face was white with dismay. She said nothing, and the train slowed even more. He was running out of time.
‘She told me when I interviewed her that she was expecting a baby.’ They ignored the matron’s huff of disapproval. ‘Archie’s obviously. I—I’m afraid I didn’t think... I—I assumed the family would know.’
‘We didn’t.’ She looked about her. The train was very slow now, they would be coming into the station within a minute. ‘At least, the parents probably did. I thought her father’s behaviour was a bit odd. They said it was pneumonia. They said she was staying with an old nanny whilst she recovered.’
‘I imagine they wanted to keep it quiet, for Diana’s sake. So she could avoid the shame of it.’
‘More likely to avoid their own reputations being sullied.’ He was surprised at the bitterness in her tone. Dottie continued, ‘But is she all right?’
He shrugged. It was the worst thing he could have done. ‘I’m not in contact with her. I have her address in my office, but I don’t know it offhand. I thought she was at a boarding house. She said nothing about an old nanny.’
The station buildings came into view. The train slowed to a stop. The matron got up to leave, her suitcase, two smaller bags and a bundle tied up in brown paper under her arm, with one glare at the couple, she pushed past them, banging William’s knees with the suitcase.
Dottie was pondering. She looked out at the station. And came to a decision.
‘I’m getting off. Help me with my suitcase, please. I shall be at the station hotel in Scarborough. Please let me have the address for Diana as soon as you get back to London.’
‘Dottie, wait! Sweetheart, think about this a moment! Please don’t just...’
‘My suitcase, please.’
He got the case down for her, and as she hurried out of the compartment and into the corridor, heading towards the door to the platform. He followed her, pleading with her to see sense.
‘Darling! Please, no, Dottie! Think about it. She doesn’t want anyone to know. She wants it kept a secret to avoid any scandal to her and her family. Darling, wait!’
She turned fast to hiss through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t you dare call me Darling, Inspector Hardy!’
She snatched her case from him, stepped lightly down from the train and hurried away through the throng of people. A whistle blew, the train began to pull away, and there was nothing he could do but watch her bright head leaving him behind.
‘Dottie!’ he hesitated. Should he get down from the train too? But he had to be back at work the next morning. Damn work, he thought, but it was already too late, the train was out of the station, gathering speed. It was too late.
Tears threatened to overwhelm him, and he punched the wall to relieve his distress. He could still see her, at the barrier now, handing in her ticket. She didn’t once look back at him.
Almost before it was started, his engagement to Dottie Manderson was over.
William stood there looking out for a few minutes. The station was long gone, the train was racing now through the countryside. He felt frozen, not sure of what to do. The scene replayed itself over and over in his head, pausing now and then like a cinematic film to show him the moments when he had done or said the wrong thing, the moments when the situation could have been salvaged. But it couldn’t, he couldn’t. It was all too late.
He went to find a seat. Now that he no longer cared, he had the compartment to himself.
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THE END
***
ALSO BY CARON ALLAN:
Criss Cross: book 1 of the Friends can be Murder trilogy
Cross Check: book 2 of the Friends can be Murder trilogy
Check Mate: book 3 of the Friends can be Murder trilogy
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NIGHT AND DAY: DOTTIE Manderson mysteries book 1
The Mantle of God: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 2
Scotch Mist: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 3: a novella
The Last Perfect Summer of Richard Dawlish: Dottie Manderson mysteries book 4
