Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen: A Grasshopper Lawns whodunit Page 13

  ‘That’s more or less the definition of missing.’ Vivian was a little tart. Stuart shot her a wary glance and picked up the carving knife where she had left it.

  ‘Want me to carve a bit more?’ he offered and she nodded briefly. ‘Poor woman.’ He started carving expert slices from the carcase. ‘Not pretty, and so lost and lonely-looking. Life can be tough, when no-one wants you.’

  Edge risked a quick glance at Vivian, whose face didn’t change. ‘Not so unwanted,’ she said mildly, taking glass water jugs two at a time to the faucet for filling. ‘She’s married, you know.’

  ‘Really? She didn’t look the type anyone would marry, so okay, I was wrong there. And William told me about her being trapped in the sluice here.’ He shuddered. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse.’

  Edge felt a moment’s charity with him and Vivian, sounding friendlier, asked if he was also claustrophobic.

  Stuart nodded without looking at her. ‘I think that’s as much as I can usefully get off this chicken. I’ll go start laying the table, get out from under your feet.’

  Donald promptly gave him a pile of plates and considerately opened the kitchen door and Stuart took himself off.

  ‘You knocked the smile off, anyway. He’s taken the huff, I think,’ he remarked and Vivian nodded.

  ‘Second time. I wasn’t that impressed about him practically falling nose-first into the Catt woman’s cleavage, so when he wanted my attention in the hall later I was a bit cool. It was like flicking a switch. He turned into an offended iceberg and went off to sulk. I do hate it when people suddenly act differently from the way they always have before. I start examining my conscience to see what I said wrong, and feel intensely uncomfortable. On top of William changing, too, it’s too much.’

  ‘William’s always William.’ Donald was swiftly rolling soup spoons, knives and forks into paper serviettes and putting them on a small tray to carry through. ‘Crabbit is the inevitable other side of jovial. At least you know it wasn’t you, it was writer’s block.’ He glanced up to give her one of his rare smiles. ‘Dinna fash about Stuart. Some people need an interactive audience to be at their best, and they don't cope well when the other person doesn’t pick up the right cues.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. Lunch is just soup and rolls, with lots of different fillings. A sort of indoor picnic. Fruit and ice-cream to follow. Do you think it’ll be enough?’

  ‘There’s enough to feed an army.’ Edge, clasping all four water jugs carefully, shouldered her way through the kitchen door en route to the dining room. ‘And I’ve had little to do with it, so it will all be delicious!’

  ***

  The guests were a little subdued as they found places around the big dining room table and started helping themselves to the array of roll fillings, cold meats, cheeses and pickles. Donald produced a catering keg of cider, which helped lift the mood, but there was little conversation.

  ‘What’s the plan for the afternoon?’ Grant, tucking into rolls at an impressive speed, made a gallant effort. ‘I’m told our host is writing so furiously he wouldn’t stop for lunch and that is what we’re all here for, after all. Will we be able to go work in our rooms, do you think?’

  ‘I can't see why not.’ Donald was cautious. ‘You’ll be interrupted for polis interviews at some point, though.’

  ‘Well, it could be a lot worse. You and William did a nice job last night, but now we get the real interviews from the real deal. That’s got to be good for anyone who writes police procedure. How often do we get to experience the real thing?’

  ‘Scottish police procedure.’ Zoe was, inevitably, disdainful. ‘Scottish law is different. I do impeccable research, this will be no use to me at all.’

  Donald leaned back in his chair to look at her steadily. ‘I don't think they’ll play the bagpipes during your interview. Although this was hardly laid on for your research, Grant’s right. William should be charging you all more for this.’

  ‘I hope we are going to be allowed to write.’ Aubrey, who’d barely spoken, was restless. ‘I hate to say it but my head’s buzzing with ideas. I don’t even care if they lock me in my room.’

  ‘I’d hoped to go round the glen.’ Stuart worked his shoulders. ‘I spend at least part of every day out and about, don’t like being cooped up. I want to see how the calves are looking, too. Maybe they’d let me out under your escort, Vivian? You’d enjoy them, they’re beautiful.’

  ‘Calves? Surely you mean fawns?’ Zoe’s voice dripped delicate scorn and he glared at her.

  ‘Red deer have calves. Check your impeccable research.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Vivian said hurriedly as they glowered at each other. ‘I’m sure we could go out, so long as we stay in the glen.’

  ‘Oh, I’d like that too! They must be gorgeous,’ Diana said eagerly.

  ‘My Landie is a bit of a squash for three in the front, and only has benches at the back,’ Stuart was unenthusiastic but polite, ‘but you’re all welcome, of course. If the police allow it at all.’

  ‘We’re touched by the warmth of your invitation,’ Grant said drily, and looked curiously at Vivian, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Martha Smith snorted with laughter, then shot Zoe a sly look. ‘Did you ever hear that story of a woman who saw a man at her mother’s funeral and instantly decided he was the man of her dreams? He left directly afterwards and she couldn’t find anyone who knew him among the other mourners. A few days later she killed her sister. Can you guess why?’ She looked round the table, her eyes bright with malice. ‘It’s a fairly well-known test question, to understand how people think. Any suggestions?’

  ‘I’ve heard it before,’ Donald was slightly apologetic. ‘But I’d be interested to know what other people think.’

  ‘Sisters have very complicated relationships,’ Diane objected. ‘We’d have to know way more about them.’

  Zoe looked at her pityingly. ‘Think like a writer. She gambled that he had an interest in the family, so if he heard about another funeral he would attend that too, and she’d be ready this time.’

  ‘Good God.’ Stuart got up to help himself to another glass of cider. ‘I’ve been hanging round you lot too long. I also thought that, then I dismissed it as too far-fetched.’

  ‘Was I right?’ Zoe challenged and Martha nodded.

  ‘Almost a lateral thinking question.’ Grant started carefully assembling his fourth roll. ‘I loved those. If a man builds a house, and all four walls face south, and a bear walks past, what colour is the bear?’

  ‘Aren’t all bears brown or black?’ Stuart looked confused, and Zoe sneered at him.

  ‘White, of course. Only one place in the world where all four walls could face south.’ She was as stimulated as they’d seen her yet, and under cover of the suddenly animated conversation Martha caught Donald’s eye and cast hers towards the door. He nodded in response and stood up gracefully.

  ‘I’m running the kitchen gauntlet for German mustard, anyone want anything?’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Edge pushed her chair back. ‘Cider at lunchtime is a bit much for me, but I saw lemonade in the fridge and I could really fancy a glass.’

  ‘Horseradish, if you have it?’ Grant asked, and Vivian looked vexed with herself.

  ‘We do, I forgot. And Edge, as you’re going anyway, the cheese rolls should be ready to come out the oven by now?’

  ***

  ‘Spill!’ Edge ordered in a low voice as soon as the dining room door shut behind them. ‘What’s with the secret glances with Martha?’

  ‘Why, Mrs Cameron,’ Donald grinned at her, ‘are you a little jealous?’ He chuckled at her indignation, then paused outside the kitchen door before opening it. ‘Martha’s story used to be a popular way of identifying a sociopath. Not foolproof, certainly not scientific, because straight-line thinking, even taken to the nth degree, is far from restricted to sociopaths. I do want to check what the order of play is this afternoon, and I’ll find out wheth
er there’s any problem with people heading to their rooms to write if they want to – or out into the glen, for that matter.’ He pushed open the door as he finished and the five men sitting round the table instantly stopped talking and looked up guardedly. They’d been joined by a young policewoman and it took a beat for Edge to recognize her niece in her uniform and hat.

  ‘Kirsty! How lovely! Will you be on the investigation?’

  Kirsty nodded. ‘Unofficially, though. Too good a chance to pass up, as I’m already part of the group, so Iain asked for me and I caught a lift through when the mortuary ambulance had to return for Mrs Granger. I’ll sneak upstairs as soon as I can and change into civvies.’

  ‘Do it now. Lunch is nearly over.’ Edge stepped back to the kitchen door and peered out. ‘Coast’s clear.’

  Kirsty slipped past her to run lightly up the stairs and she went to the oven to get the rolls while Donald dropped into a chair at the kitchen table to start a low-voiced conversation with Iain and his team.

  The hidden room gives up its secrets

  Kirsty returned to the kitchen minutes after her colleagues finished their lunch and went about their various tasks, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt which told the world her cat could beat up theirs. She made herself a quick snack from the trays provided for the officers while Donald packed the dishwasher. Edge, who had prepared supper – which required finding the trays of lasagne which Vivian had stipulated, and putting them into the pantry to defrost – was watching him critically with a stream of helpful directions which he placidly ignored.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Kirsty asked as she bit gratefully into her roll and Edge ticked off on her fingers obediently.

  ‘We are getting really good at keeping track. All the writers, including William, are off in their rooms working, except for Grant who is in the drawing room with your lot being professionally grilled. Vivian has probably been whisked off by now by Stuart to help count deer. As for us, now that the library has been unsealed Donald has a bee in his bonnet about the hidden room: he wants a proper look. I’m going to stay outside to let him out again in case the mechanism misfires but if you want to check it out with him, you’re very welcome.’

  Kirsty shook her head and swallowed the last of her roll. ‘Iain wants me sitting in on the interviews, so I can tip him off if anyone changes their story. It does mean if we do end up charging someone on anything said in the mock interrogations, I’ve been quietly added into the mix as both a guest and a police officer. That’s why he took Grant first, since Grant already knows about me, to give me time to change.’

  ‘That’s quite Machiavellian,’ Donald closed the dishwasher, chose a programme, and started the machine. ‘Treading a very fine legal line, I would have thought.’

  ‘Well,’ Kirsty shrugged helplessly, ‘the whole situation was off. It’s probably for nowt anyway. Iain’s brilliant, the best I ever worked with, but I can't see preliminary interviews unveiling anyone. Our killer is too good at keeping the heid. Tell you what, though, I can check the library between interviews and let you out if I hear you frantically hammering? That way you can both go in.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Donald rubbed his hands together, grinning at Edge’s dismayed face. ‘Come on, Nancy Drew, it will be fun. Kirsty, I’ll also show you how to deactivate the library trap in case we aren’t quick enough closing the door, or it’ll be you frantically hammering to get us back.’

  Edge glanced down at what she was wearing, moss-green cotton slacks and a matching cashmere jersey over her white blouse, and said resignedly that she’d grab something warmer and meet them in the library.

  She joined them in a few minutes, her sandals changed to gym shoes and wearing a light shirt-jacket that went with the slacks. She was carrying a pullover for Donald. He draped it carelessly round his shoulders and picked up the torch he had put on the desk.

  ‘Ready? Kirsty, watch this carefully: this is how you release the door, okay? Says on the spine Sermons Of A Country Parson. Check between interviews, even if we’re not shouting. ’

  She nodded as he pressed the book. The bookshelf sprang open, and Edge slipped quickly through the gap, Donald hard on her heels as he pulled the bookshelf-door shut behind them. The beam of his torch seemed very thin as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the absolute blackness. The room was narrow, but quite long, and seemed empty in the torchlight. It took a moment to find the cord-pull for the light, and he tugged on it gratefully. An extremely small light bulb came to muted life.

  “All right! Now, let’s see what we have here. A control board, good, I thought there had to be one somewhere besides the mains one.’ He went back to the door, found the handle and leaned out to tell Kirsty they were okay, then joined Edge, who was already peering at the board trying to decipher the tiny writing on the labels stuck below each switch.

  ‘PP is passageway plants!’ She realized at the same moment as Donald, looking at the higher rows of switches, grunted with satisfaction.

  ‘Phone. Switched on. So the lack of telephone last night could have been controlled from here. Quite a few of them are switched off. Dare me to switch them on?’

  Edge straightened from her scrutiny of the fifth and last row of switches and shook her head urgently. ‘Not before we’ve warned everyone! If they were bad enough to switch off, or they’ve malfunctioned, not a good idea.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He reached for his notebook and started making notes. ‘BR seven is switched off. If BR stands for bedroom, that would explain why Drew and Kirsty had no special effects. It does look like the top row is the bedrooms. The second row is the library, including the phone, and the drawing room. Third row is dining room, main hall and stairs. I wonder if that’s the creaking? We can do without that.’ He flicked the ‘stairs’ switch off. ‘Can you make out what the others are?’

  ‘One says ‘deer’, that could be the flicking ears. The one that’s off says ‘eagle’. Maybe it flaps its wings, or shrieks? And the last one says ‘groans’. Okay, I would like to switch some of these on! But we really should warn people first.’

  Donald nodded reluctantly, swiftly listing all the deactivated switches. Edge bent to look at the bottom row, narrowing her eyes. ‘Oh, bathroom – that’s probably the oubliette. I can’t decipher the others. Cons? Unless that’s the conservatory, in which case MR could stand for morning room, in our suite?’

  He switched on the Cons switch before she could stop him, but it tripped instantly. ‘Well, that solves that. They might all have tripped off, but we’ll warn people before we try the others.’

  He turned away from the board to study the room, which had been panelled in cheap wood. There was a filing cabinet against the long wall opposite the entrance.

  ‘William will have looked, but still. . .’ He walked to the cabinet. Standing to one side to not block the dim light, he pulled open the top drawer and gave a pleased exclamation as he lifted out the first plastic folder. ‘Schematics: looks like the blueprints for the actual installations. This should be good.’ He opened the folder on top of the cabinet and was instantly absorbed, while Edge hugged her shoulders and looked around discontentedly.

  ‘Donald,’ she finally said plaintively and he closed the folder carefully, put it back, and shut the drawer.

  ‘Sorry. Yes. William needs to see these, but aye, let’s go. Hang on, though, look at this, Edge. Is that a door in this wall?’

  She came over to join him as he ran his fingers delicately up and across the edge of the panelling.

  ‘Why would you think so? There’s no handle.’

  ‘No, but if you stand where I was standing, next to the drawer, and look at the wall, it looks as though the panelling is slightly out of true. It’s door-shaped.’

  She obediently moved behind him, and nodded, surprised. ‘You’re right. No buttons or knotholes?’

  ‘No. Maybe it only opens from the far side.’

  ‘Press the whole door, it might be on a pressure catch?’ There was a c
lick as he pressed, and the door opened.

  ***

  ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ Stuart gestured proudly at the leggy youngsters as Vivian exclaimed with pleasure. ‘This whole glen is perfect for woodland red deer. No threat from sika deer, they’ve never got in here. That’s a growing problem, hybridising: red deer in their natural habitat are under threat. When I saw these youngsters still had their spots, I knew you’d want to see them.’ He glanced sidelong at her. ‘I like showing you things. You’re extremely good company.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Vivian accepted the compliment gracefully. Stuart wasn’t the companion she would have chosen, but his close attention was flattering, no matter what Edge said. He had the knack of light chat and companionable silence in just the right proportions to make him very relaxing to be with.

  ‘So what happens to the rest of the week? I can’t see the police letting us leave soon. I suppose everyone will get on with writing and enjoying themselves. They’re a very weird bunch. You’ve got the hardest part, as far as I can see, and William and the others are just leaving you to get on with it. You know you can call on me anytime, for anything.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she repeated, genuinely grateful. ‘I don’t think even writers could carry on as normal in the face of murders.’

  ‘Plural?’ He had been about to start the Land Rover again but paused at that to stare at her. ‘What, not only Jeanette?’

  Vivian blushed, annoyed with herself. ‘Keep it to yourself, please, but Lorna Granger was killed too. The police have found her body.’

  He looked shocked. ‘That poor woman. She really got short-changed by life.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Vivian hastily changed the subject from her faux pas. ‘What would happen if we got out and tried to get nearer to the fawns?’

  ‘Calves. And we’d probably get trampled by their mums.’ He sat back, though, without starting the Land Rover. ‘It’s not a good time to try, end of the mating season, they’re pretty restless and territorial. You do not want to be kicked by an angry red deer, even a doe. They kick at the front, not the rear, and it carries a surprising punch. But if you want, we can get out of the Landie, so long as we stay close to it. Not you, boy,’ he added to Buster, who whined but sank resignedly back on his haunches in the back.