The Stalking Party Read online

  ‘Is pleasing him important to you?’

  Nicky slanted a glance from under his brows and said, ‘I don’t care what he thinks. Keeping it quiet was Bev’s idea. She didn’t want to muck up my chance of being given Glen Buie when my father gives up stalking.’

  ‘Is he likely to?’

  ‘His heart’s been playing up and the doctor wants him to stop. My stepmother has been piling on the pressure, too. The plan used to be that he would hand over to me and my stepbrother, Alec Forrester, who was anyway co-owner here...but then Alec was drowned at sea.’

  ‘So what will your father do now?’

  Nicky shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but by the terms of the partnership he’ll have to get Maya’s agreement before he does anything.’

  ‘Maya?’

  ‘Alec’s widow. The … the black girl. She inherited Alec’s share.’

  Again Robb consulted his list. ‘Ah, yes. So now you think your father will pass over his share to you when he retires from stalking?’

  Nicky’s mouth twisted. ‘Bev thought he would, if I don’t blot my copybook.’

  ‘And being married to her would constitute a blot?’

  Ask a silly question, said Nicky’s expression. Aloud he said, ‘Dad’s blinkered. He didn’t even try to understand Bev’s point of view.’

  ‘What was that, sir?’

  ‘Well, obviously she was shocked at such a waste of resources. Land lying idle, cottages empty and so on, especially when so many people are homeless.’

  ‘I doubt if they’d be willing to move to a Highland croft,’ observed Robb dryly.

  ‘No one was suggesting they should! Bev’s idea was to develop Glen Buie as a tourist destination, which would generate income for Home from Home,’ said Nicky earnestly, ‘but I knew if my father got wind of it, he would make pretty damn sure that neither Bev nor I got the chance to do any such thing. Bev was so outspoken. She didn’t realise how slow people here are to accept a new idea.’

  ‘So in fact you initiated her trip to the islands?’

  ‘I thought she’d be safer there.’

  ‘Safer?’

  Nicky leaned forward, biting his lip, his bony, boyish hands pressed between his knees. ‘It worried me, the way she used to wander by herself, but when I told her to be careful, she laughed at me. She thought the hills were just a big theme park and she could go where she pleased because there’s no law of trespass here. She didn’t understand how dangerous it can be – how quickly things can go wrong.’ He paused and then added sombrely, ‘Especially if there’s no one around to help you.’

  Robb said, ‘You were afraid she would be harmed by someone, not something – is that right? Someone who didn’t like what she meant to do here? Who was that?’

  For a moment there was silence, then Nicky said jerkily, ‘She couldn’t see how much – how much they hated her.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘My family. Pa’s friends. Ashy, Sandy, Fergus – everyone who works here. Even Everard Cooper. Because they were polite to her face, she thought they were harmless, dinosaurs: a bit of a joke. But I know what they’re like really, and I knew what they were thinking. Any one of them would have shoved her in the river if they thought they could get away with it.’

  ‘If you were that worried, why didn’t you leave with her?’

  ‘I wish I had,’ said Nicky wretchedly, ‘but she wouldn’t let me. She said if I didn’t take an interest in Glen Buie, I’d find my father handing it over to my cousin, John Forbes. Ever since Alec was drowned, Aunt Marjorie has been pushing blasted Johnny under my father’s nose, trying to persuade him I’d ruin the place.’

  Robb said, ‘When did you last speak to Beverley?’

  ‘I told you she rang on Sunday night, just to say she’d arrived and found a place to stay; then again on Wednesday evening.’

  ‘Wednesday? You actually spoke to her on Wednesday?’

  ‘I wasn’t there. One of the maids took the call. Bev gave her a message for me, saying she’d got a cold and was staying a few more days.’ His mouth worked suddenly, uncontrollably. He said in a voice shaken by sobs,’ And now she’s dead. I – I still can’t believe it.’

  ‘Did anyone else know you were married?’ Robb asked imperturbably.

  ‘Ashy guessed. I made her promise not to tell.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll have another word with you when we’ve got the lab report. Please will you ask Astrid Macleod to come in?’

  *****

  ‘Is this the Incident Room?’ Ashy’s eyes glinted with curiosity as her blonde head appeared round the door.

  ‘I suppose you could call it that,’ said Robb equably.

  ‘Not exactly Crimewatch UK, but never mind.’ She chose a chair and looked at him expectantly. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Five-ten, size 16-18, and as braw as she’s bonny, thought Robb, who approved of big women, though no doubt any dietician would tell her she had a stone to lose. Like Nicky, she was clearly on edge, but where his answers had been terse, words poured from Ashy in a torrent. The difficulty with her was going to be sifting fact from hearsay, speculation, and outright fiction.

  Even before he had framed his first question, she had plunged into the story of how she had missed the river rescue.

  ‘Just my rotten luck. I went out to the kitchen while Archie was making his speech – I’ve heard it about a million times – to give Morag a hand with the washing-up so that she could come and dance her Highland Fling. It’s an absolute hoot. She always says she’s too old, but I can jolly her into it after a few drams.

  ‘Anyway, there we were, gassing away, deep in the soapsuds, and we heard the cars roaring off up the drive, and when I went back into the hall there was hardly a soul left. Just Mrs McNichol, Sandy’s mum, and a couple of other ancient biddies. They told me everyone had gone to the Greeting Pool because someone was drowning, so I simply flew up there – oh, my legs, I can hardly move today – but by the time I got there it was all over. They were just putting my stepfather into the doctor’s car. I gather there’s not a lot wrong with him, though I doubt if he’ll show his face here for a while. Amazing luck that Kirsty happened to be passing the pool and heard him. If she hadn’t gone out for a breather, dear Everard would have been done for,’ she finished with a marked lack of sympathy. ‘He had no business fishing in that pool, as he very well knew, and certainly not with a spinning-rod.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s out of bounds.’

  ‘I thought Sir Archibald owned the whole river.’

  ‘Not so. When old Lord Strathtorran sold up, he kept that one pool. It’s where his only daughter drowned at the age of sixteen, poor kid. I suppose he didn’t like to think of people wading about in her grave. Grue!’ She gave him a sidelong glance and added, ‘Sandy has a Thing about that pool.’

  ‘Sandy McNichol? The head stalker?’

  ‘That’s right. My theory is that he and Lady Helen were secretly in love. He must have been quite goodlooking when he was young. I guess that her father found out, and sacked Sandy, and that was why Lady Helen drowned herself. It all fits, you see, only Sandy is such an old oyster you’ll never get him to admit it. But he hates people messing about anywhere near the Greeting Pool. Once I dared Alec Forrester to take a peek in Sandy’s hideyhole under the bridge, but when Sandy found out he was furious.’

  ‘What’s this hideyhole?’

  ‘It’s where Sandy puts sweets for the Wee Folk whenever he takes a stalking party across the bridge. For luck, you know.’ She saw Robb’s smile and said seriously, ‘He doesn’t like people to laugh about it, either. I’ve noticed that if anyone teases him, he makes pretty damned sure that they don’t shoot a stag that day.’

  ‘How can he do that?’

  ‘Very easily. After all, the Rifle is entirely in the stalker’s hands. He only shoots when he’s told to.’

  Robb sensed that he was being decoyed away from the matter in hand. ‘Let’s talk
about Beverley Tanner, Miss Macleod.’

  ‘Do call me Ashy. Everyone does.’

  ‘If you prefer. I understand you were the only person who knew that the deceased was Nicholas Hanbury’s wife.’

  ‘The deceased – how horrible.’ Ashy grimaced, sighed, then said with her usual energy, ‘I may have been the only person Nicks actually told, but the others very likely guessed. I mean, it was obvious from the way she bossed him around. Poor Nicky! He’s too clever to be sensible, if you know what I mean. You or I could have seen at once that Beverley was after his money, but he thought she simply wanted to help the homeless. He wouldn’t hear a word against her, not even when I told him she was trying to blackmail my stepfather.’

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘Well, trying to get money out of him. Same thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you know about this?’

  Ashy picked up a pipe-cleaner from a box on the table and began to twist it into a rabbit. Her face had gone attractively pink.

  ‘I heard them. It was pretty embarrassing, actually. I was in the smoking-room, looking for a book after dinner. I was kneeling on the floor behind the sofa, to see what was on the bottom shelf, when they came in. No, don’t tell me, I know I should have leapt up and shouted, but I didn’t do it quickly enough, and after I’d been listening for a minute or two, I just couldn’t.’

  ‘Awkward,’ Robb agreed.

  ‘At first I thought he’d lured her in there for a spot of –

  you know,’ said Ashy, flicking back her ponytail. ‘He’s a terrible groper. Mary – that’s the cook – has to tell the maids not to turn their backs on him. But she – Bev – was talking about his business. Some company called Mona Peat. She asked if Archie knew about their report on the West Coast peat extraction project, and said she wouldn’t mention Everard’s involvement if he made a donation to Home from Home.’

  ‘How much did she want?’

  ‘Ten grand. He practically exploded. He called her a lot of revolting names,’ said Ashy sedately, though a smile twitched the corner of her mouth, ‘and he said he’d break her bloody neck if she said a word about Mona Peat to Archie.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Oh, she was pretty cool. I think she liked seeing him in a stew. She said, “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me,” and went out of the room.’

  *****

  John Forbes was next, anxious to make a good impression and, specifically, to emphasise that he was as unlike his cousin Nicholas as a man could possibly be.

  This, he told Robb, was his second visit to Glen Buie. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn about it, but in a strange way I do feel I belong here. Must be in my blood.’

  Robb refrained from pointing out that the deer forest had been in his family’s hands for less than thirty years. By his own account, John Forbes’s life to date had been singularly lacking in roots.

  ‘Father was a missionary, you see. We never spent long in one place, and were always on the move because some of his parishes were huge, especially in Africa. My brother and I had no chance to come here when we were boys, and anyway, Father wouldn’t have liked it.’

  On leaving university, he had been taken on by Shaw and Selkirk, the estate agents. ‘I was lucky to get a job, with so many bright chaps out of work,’ he said, managing to imply that S&S would have been fools to turn him down.

  ‘Auctioneers, aren’t you?’ Robb had seen their signs at many a cattle mart.

  ‘Among other things. We also do estate management, sporting lets, forestry. It’s the sporting side that interests me most. Take a place like this. It’s crying out for someone with professional training to take matters in hand. Of course Uncle Archie is a gem – I won’t hear a word against him – but he hasn’t the foggiest about management. Why should he? He’s never had to count the pennies. But even with my level of experience I could save him a packet.’

  ‘How do you mean, sir?’

  Johnny said, ‘Anyone with half an eye can see that he’s being ripped off right, left, and centre. Oh, nothing criminal...’ – for a moment he recalled to whom he was speaking – ‘just general slackness and bending of the rules.’

  ‘Can you give me an example?’

  ‘Well, no names, no packdrill, but it’s an open secret that Sandy’s pals from the pub are allowed to fish where and when they damn well please, and I’ve no doubt that a fair few of the hinds shot here in the winter don’t figure in the estate accounts. That’s the first thing I’d crack down on.’

  ‘Have you told your uncle this?’

  ‘Only in a general way. The odd hint. I don’t want him to think I’m criticising.’

  ‘Of course not. Did Sir Archibald appreciate these – er – hints?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Johnny complacently. ‘He said that as far as Sandy’s concerned, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and he’s due to retire soon, anyway; but it did no harm to let Fergus know you’re not blind. He had trouble in his last place, you know. Selling venison on his own account – the old story.’

  ‘It’s not an easy life.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t throw the rule book at them, heaven forbid! Uncle Archie wouldn’t stand for that. I’d just tighten things up a bit. Cut out the worst abuses.’

  Smoothly Robb guided him away from these ambitions and on to the subject of Beverley Tanner. Needless to say, Johnny hadn’t liked her.

  ‘Beats me why Nicky brought her here, unless he wanted to wind up Uncle Archie,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Of course it was one in the eye for Ashy, too. You should have seen her face when Nicky arrived with that creature in tow! Bang went her hopes of marrying millions.’

  ‘You think she hoped to marry him?’

  Johnny laughed. ‘Ashy’s got no money of her own, and she’s a girl with expensive tastes. Oh, she looks very sweet and charming, but don’t be fooled. She’s as tough as they come. Grallochs her own stags – not a job for the squeamish – and she collects the bullet from every stag she shoots. Cuts them out and keeps them. How weird is that? If Ashy wanted to marry Nicky, she wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way.’

  The dislike Robb had been feeling for this self-satisfied young man crystallised into controlled anger. ‘Be careful what you say, sir. There is such a thing as defamation.’

  Johnny flushed. ‘I thought you’d need background information,’ he said defensively.

  ‘Information, yes. Malicious gossip and speculation, definitely not. All right, sir, let’s recap. You thought Nicholas had brought Beverley here in order to irritate his father. When did you realise they were, in fact, married?’

  Johnny said sulkily, ‘I heard them talking. My bathroom is next to the room Beverley was in, and it’s only a thin partition.’

  Robb imagined him lying in the bath, ears straining, careful not to splash to avoid alerting the couple next door. ‘Did you tell anyone else?’

  ‘No,’ said Johnny, so quickly that Robb immediately wondered to whom he had relayed this tasty morsel of gossip. ‘Can’t say I envied him,’ he added, meeting Robb’s eyes defiantly. ‘Quite honestly, I thought he’d made a big mistake.’

  ‘Were you pleased?’

  ‘Why should I be?’

  ‘Didn’t you think that when your uncle discovered the truth he would jib at putting his deer-forest into Beverley’s hands? Word had already got about that she wanted to make it a tourist destination. A Highland honeypot.’

  ‘Pie in the sky,’ said Johnny scornfully. ‘It could never have broken even.’

  ‘Didn’t it occur to you that even talking about such a possibility improved the chance that Sir Archibald would ask you to take over the management of Glen Buie? He might retain ownership and pay the bills, but you would be in charge. Didn’t that look to you like the best of all possible outcomes?’

  ‘You’ve no right to say that!’ Johnny’s cheeks flamed. ‘You’re putting words into my mouth.’

  ‘Let’s see. Am I putting words into Mr Forbe
s’s mouth? Play that back, Peg, will you?’

  Wpc Kenny pressed buttons, and Johnny’s voice, amplified and malicious, filled the room. ‘Ashy looks very sweet and charming... but she’s as tough as they come... Can’t say I envied him... made a big mistake...’

  ‘All right, it may have crossed my mind that – that Nicky’s marriage did my chances here no harm,’ he said sulkily. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing, sir.’ Robb’s voice was coldly formal. ‘So you had good reason to hope your uncle would find out about it. And it was in your interest that Nicholas’s wife should enjoy the best of health?’

  ‘Well, yes. Of course.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. That’s all for the present,’ said Robb breezily.

  With a puzzled look, John Forbes left the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  SERGEANT WINTER RETURNED at noon from his researches, and found Robb settling down to canned Guinness and game pie, courtesy of Mary, the cook.

  ‘She never even booked on the Stornoway ferry,’ he said, taking a can of fizzy orangeade off the tray and yanking the ring-pull. ‘Went over to Tounie, spent the morning buying camping gear and drinking coffee, then slipped back here sometime before five o’clock. That’s when she appeared at the Strathtorran Hostel and booked in for the week.’ He looked with suspicion at the game pie. ‘What’s in this?’

  ‘Hare and venison, at a guess, and you can’t get much more organic than that. Try it. It’s good.’

  ‘I’ll stick to cheese, thanks. As I said, she booked in at the hostel, calling herself Kimberley Skinner. Lady S wasn’t too keen to take a whole week’s booking, because they were due to close the hostel on Friday, but in the end she agreed, and Tanner – aka Skinner – spent the next two days like a good little backpacker, without saying a word about having been here at Glen Buie the previous week. Quiet, but knew her own mind, according to Lady Strathtorran. Gave no trouble, except that on Wednesday evening she didn’t come back.’

  ‘Leaving her bill unpaid?’

  ‘No, Lady S gets them to pay upfront, so in fact she was quids-in.’