The Stalking Party Page 18

  She had hurried out of the serving-room, and Ben had gone through to the dining-room and wolfed his breakfast, eager to get up to his room and start work, but his mother’s intervention had ruined his plan.

  You’d think Mum would be glad to see me doing something worthwhile, he thought morosely as the vehicle lurched and jolted. All she cares about is showing Uncle Archie what brilliant sporting sons she has. What’s so special about stalking, anyway? Any fool with a rifle can shoot a stag. Even that pompous fart Mr Cooper managed it in the end. I hope to God Mum gives up this grisly idea of making me work here during my gap year. I couldn’t bear that.

  ‘I’m sure your uncle can find a use for you,’ Marjorie had said, staring at him as if he was some botanical specimen she was planning to re-pot. ‘Nicky spent six months here, and it did him the world of good.’

  ‘He loathed every minute of it,’ said Ben, much alarmed. ‘He nearly died of boredom.’

  ‘Only boring people get bored,’ she had said maddeningly. ‘You spend far too much time indoors. It’s high time you got out to see the real world.’

  If the group could see me now, they’d say this is unreal, thought Ben rebelliously. Five of us squashed into this rotting tin can, and Fergus driving like a maniac.

  Silently Donny offered roll-ups. Maya shook her head, but Ben’s hand shot out.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He glanced defiantly at his brother as he lit up, but Johnny was too busy gawping at Maya to notice. Wedged between the two boys, back against the rear door-handle and long legs stretched out, she looked elegant and at ease, but as she mulled over the conversation between Ben and Elspeth that she had overheard through the serving-hatch, she remembered the evening Elspeth had been late back on duty: the day Everard Cooper had shot his Royal... the day Beverley had been murdered.

  It had also been Mary Grant’s day off. Coming wearily into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, Maya had found Ishy alone there, flurried and furious, trying to do Elspeth’s work as well as her own.

  ‘She’s awa’ tae Tounie, leaving me single-handed,’ Ishy had said, tight-lipped. ‘She swore she’d be back by six at the latest, but that’s Elspeth all over. Give her an inch, and she takes an ell.’

  ‘Let me help,’ Maya had offered; and together they had managed to lay the table and dish up before the sacred eight-thirty deadline. Elspeth had not appeared until nearly ten, scuttling in through the boot-room to face the lash of Ishy’s tongue as well as the washing-up.

  Where had she been all that time? Maya wondered, and why did she blame Ben? He had been back in good time himself, emerging pink and scrubbed from the bath as Maya hurried to her own bedroom to change.

  Impossible to ask him now, with his brother listening. She glanced up, caught Johnny’s stare, and wished he would stop giving her soulful smiles.

  On the bench seat in front, Ashy was talking softly to Fergus, who stared straight ahead, the knuckles of his muscular hands showing white as they gripped the wheel.

  ‘After you’d gone last night, that horrid old schoolmaster tried to chat me up. You know the one I mean.’

  ‘Hector Logie.’

  ‘That’s him. He showed me a whole heap of photographs, then told me he’d given better ones to the police. Fergus! You’re not listening.’

  ‘It’s nothing to me,’ he muttered without turning his head.

  ‘But it is!’

  ‘Keep your bloody voice down,’ he said, low and harsh, glancing in the mirror.

  ‘Fergus, darling, why won’t you listen?’

  ‘Because ye’re blethering.’

  ‘I’m trying to warn you. It’s no use saying you never went near the trout-loch last Tuesday if Logie has a photograph of you there. And Ian McNeil saw you come down to the track looking for Everard’s stag.’

  ‘Bloody man! Always where he’s least wanted.’

  ‘The police were talking to him last night in Jock Taggart’s parlour.’ Ashy stole a glance behind her, but the dog-guard and rifle-rack made an effective barrier between front and back seats. ‘Will you meet me at the pub tonight?’

  ‘I will not.’

  ‘Because of what I told you? Don’t be angry, my angel. I was only trying to help you.’

  ‘A nice mess you’ve made of it,’ said Fergus savagely. ‘Ye’d have done better to mind your own business. And don’t call me that.’

  Ashy’s eyes crinkled. She began to sing softly, watching him sideways.

  ‘Tell me he’s lazy, tell me he’s slow,

  Tell me I’m crazy, maybe I know,

  Can’t help loving that man of mine!’

  Fergus said harshly, ‘I thought you’d your sights set on Mr Nicky. Two for the price of one, is it, you’re wanting?’

  The tune changed to Greensleeves: ‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong,’ sang Ashy, stepping up the volume.

  ‘Will you hold your wheesht?’

  ‘Not unless you meet me tonight. If you’re good, I’ll buy you a dram.’

  ‘I’ll buy my own bloody dram!’ exploded Fergus. ‘And for Christ’s sake take your hands off me. Do you want us in the bloody ditch?’

  ‘Goodness, you are in a bate,’ said Ashy, withdrawing her fingers from his pocket. ‘Better not let Johnny hear you. Did you know that Archie’s thinking of putting him in charge here next season?’

  ‘If he does, he’ll do it without me,’ said Fergus grimly, and slammed on his brakes.

  The others crawled stiffly out of the back. Fergus conferred with Donny, who heaved the massive deer saddle from under the trailer’s tarpaulin and went whistling off towards the five-acre horse park where two shaggy ponies were grazing.

  ‘Right, sir,’ said Fergus briskly to Johnny. ‘We’ll take a spy up the face of Sgurr Connuil. If there’s nothing there, we’ll have a look into Corrie na Fearn. That way the sergeant will see where we were stalking last week, and get the lie of the land.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ said Winter. He looked assessingly but without apprehension at the rocky ramparts towering two thousand feet-odd above them. He belonged to a cross-country running club, and thought it unlikely that keeping pace with today’s company would give him any problem. The big girl, Ashy, was built for strength rather than speed, and Miss Ethnic Minority looked as if she would feel more at home on a catwalk than a mountain. John Forbes was slope-shouldered and gangling, and his young brother’s pinched white face and dark-rimmed eyes might have belonged to any inner-city hophead. If the party’s rate of ascent was determined by its slowest member, Winter thought the climb would be a doddle.

  Steady rain was falling, but just below the line of cloud that blurred the skyline, half a dozen deer were scattered among the rocks, flecks of brown warmth against chilly grey. Fergus and Johnny studied them carefully through binoculars; then Fergus moved to sit with his back against a boulder, steadying the telescope between knee and stick.

  ‘Aye,’ he said at length, clicking the sections shut. ‘There’s some good beasts there, right enough. We’ll go on up the burn and take a look from the head of the corrie. All set?’

  ‘Half a tick,’ said Ashy. She took off her waterproof and tied it round her waist by the sleeves. After a momentary hesitation Maya did the same. In single file, with Fergus leading and Benjamin bringing up the rear, they splashed across the pebbly mouth of the burn and begun to climb the dark, narrow gully down which it flowed.

  *****

  Everard Cooper had activated his medical insurance, and had himself moved to a private room where he lay propped on pillows, looking pink and sleek and remarkably healthy in his blue silk pyjamas with a monogram on the pocket.

  ‘You can’t stay holed up here much longer,’ said his wife, looking down on him without sympathy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you and no doubt they need the bed.’

  ‘Damn it, I’m paying, aren’t I?’

  ‘BUPA’s paying.’

  ‘Same thing. Look, Priss. I didn’t ask you to come and badger me. I’ve had ab
out as much as I can take from the police. Was it you who sicced them on to Mona Peat?’

  ‘You’re paranoid about Mona Peat!’ She was puzzled as well as indignant. ‘Why should the police be interested in that?’

  ‘Because that bloody little slut Beverley was trying to blackmail me! You were the only person I told, so how else would the police hear of it?’

  Lady Priscilla laughed scornfully. ‘My dear old numbskull, since you were the one who pulled her out of the river, it’s hardly likely that you would have put her in it. The police aren’t that thick.’

  For once he was too worried to resent being patronised. ‘The theory is that I shot her, and someone else dumped her in the river.’

  ‘Absurd!’ She stared at him for a moment, then added with less certainty, ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s preposterous. That’s what I’ve told them, again and again. I might as well talk to a brick wall.’

  ‘All right,’ she challenged. ‘Tell me your story. See if I believe it.’

  He looked down at the hospital blanket, lower lip thrust forward, and began plucking at a loose thread. ‘There’d have been none of this hassle if Archie had allowed me to shoot a decent head,’ he muttered.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ she said incredulously. ‘You had umpteen chances and missed the lot.’

  ‘Only because they all had such miserable little antlers.’

  His wife said slowly, ‘Are you telling me you’ve been missing on purpose?’

  ‘Of course. I came up here hoping to bag a couple of good heads for the boardroom. You know we’ve just had it done up?’

  Wordlessly she shook her head, and he said, ‘Of course not. You’re never interested in how money is made, only in spending it. Well, a couple of sets of good-looking antlers are just what it needs, and I told Archie so when we arrived, but you know what he’s like. ‘Sorry, old boy. No trophy-hunting here.” So I thought, Right, I’ll see if a few quid make Sandy and Fergus a bit more co-operative.’

  ‘Did it?’ Her face betrayed nothing but polite interest.

  Everard said disgustedly, ‘I honestly believe they went out of their way to make sure I didn’t get what I wanted. There’s no shortage of good beasts, but they made damned sure they didn’t give me a chance at one. However!’ He brightened up and began to speak more quickly, his fingers steadily unravelling the loose thread.

  ‘At about four last Tuesday, I spotted this beautiful Royal lying a little way beyond the hummel which Fergus wanted me to shoot, and I thought, Right, mate: this is for you. I had him in my sights just nicely, and was waiting for him to stand, when suddenly he jumped up and was away almost before I could get off the safety. I had to take a snap shot, and knew I’d hit him, although he kept going. Fergus thought I’d missed, and told me to fire again, but of course he was looking at the wrong stag. I saw my Royal swing downhill, then stop, so I fired again; and blow me if that infernal woman didn’t pop up from behind a rock, staring round like a startled rabbit, and then duck back out of sight.’

  ‘You’re sure it was Beverley?’

  ‘No question.’

  Lady Priscilla sat for a moment in silence, nibbling her lower lip. ‘Did Fergus see her?’ she said at last.

  ‘I can’t tell.’ He shook his big head like a baffled and dangerous bull. ‘He didn’t say anything, but then, of course, he wouldn’t.’

  ‘He must have said something.’

  ‘Well, yes. Obviously at that point he still thought I was trying to shoot his wretched hummel, and supposed I’d missed again, but I knew bloody well that I’d hit the Royal. I wasn’t going to let on until I was sure it was dead, though, so I played dumb, and just said, ‘Hang on, Fergus. I think that beast was hit. We’d better go and have a look.” He argued, of course, but I insisted, and eventually he told me to stay where I was, while he went on with the rifle. The minute he was out of sight, I slid down to where I’d last seen the Royal, and there he was, dead as a doornail.’

  He grinned at the memory, but Lady Priscilla was in no mood to applaud. ‘Where was Beverley?’ she said sharply.

  ‘No sign of her.’

  ‘You’re quite sure you didn’t hit her with your second shot?’

  ‘Positive,’ he said a shade too quickly. ‘By then it was pissing with rain and blowing half a gale, and I was worried that Maya would be frozen stiff where we’d left her. So I shouted for Fergus, and waved him up; and as soon as he came back to where the Royal was lying, I went to collect Maya.’

  So that she would act as a curb on Fergus’s tongue, thought Lady Priscilla with contempt. ‘Did you tell Fergus about seeing Beverley?’

  ‘No.’

  He hesitated. ‘But while I was waiting for Fergus to come up to me and the stag, I’m almost sure I heard a shot. I did ask him if he’d heard it too, but he said it must have been the other party on Carn Mhor.’

  ‘But that’s miles away.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘How much of this have you told the police?’

  ‘Everything, apart from seeing Beverley practically under the feet of my Royal. Why put ideas into their heads?’

  She was silent, recognising the unnaturally frank, steady-eyed gaze he adopted when bluffing. ‘It’s no good expecting me to help you unless you tell me the truth.’

  ‘I am,’ he insisted. ‘The trouble is, it’s Fergus’s word against mine. As far as the police are concerned, we were both in the right place at the right time, and I had a reason to want her dead, while as far as they know, he hadn’t. As far as they know,’ he repeated with emphasis. ‘What you’ve got to do, my angel, is find out why Fergus should have had it in for her. Do a bit of digging. Talk to the housemaids, or Mary Grant, or even Sandy’s old mother. She’s the biggest gossip on the place.’

  ‘Why the hell should I do your dirty work?’

  ‘Because you’re so good at chatting up the lower orders.’ His smile was malicious. ‘Your lovely daughter takes after you, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Meaning?’ said Lady Priscilla coldly.

  ‘Wasn’t there a spot of bother during her last year at school? With one of the gardeners? And that Greek waiter – I heard you had to buy him off: hardly the sort of son-in-law you’re looking for. But I can tell you this: unless she stops running after Fergus like a bitch on heat, dear Ashy is going to bugger up her chances of catching Nicky Hanbury on the rebound, that’s for sure.’

  Lady Priscilla regarded her husband with distaste. How could she have left poor Mikey McLeod – so honourable and oh, so painfully dull! – for this hairy-heeled shyster?

  ‘Leave Ashy out of this,’ she snapped.

  ‘How can I, when the wretched girl has landed me in the shit?’ he responded angrily. ‘Why did she have to interfere? If she had left Beverley where she found her, instead of dumping her in the river –’

  ‘Ashy did? Don’t be absurd.’

  Everard hitched himself higher on the pillows and spoke with new vigour. ‘Listen, Priss. Ashy was up at the trout-loch, painting, on Wednesday afternoon when Maya found the body – right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And when Maya didn’t come back, Ashy walked up to the head of the loch, looking for her. That’s what she told us, didn’t she?’

  Lady Priscilla said slowly, ‘I suppose she could have looked under the boat, too...’

  ‘Could? I’m damned sure she did, because she already knew it was there. Why? Because she put it there herself the day before. Remember she was with Archie’s party on Carn Mhor, and when the stalkers crawled in for the shot, they left her looking straight across at Carn Beag. I’ll lay you any money you like that she saw Fergus run down to the track looking for my beast, which would have been his chance to take a snapshot at Beverley before coming back to me. I’ve been lying here thinking it out, and I’m sure that’s what happened.’

  He paused, then said casually, ‘That Robb fellow came here with a blow-up taken by some bloody twitcher who was in his hide on that cliff a
bove the trout-loch on Wednesday afternoon. It showed a boat just pulling away from the shore at the top. Robb asked me if I recognised who was in it.’

  Lady Priscilla caught her breath sharply. ‘You didn’t say it was Ashy?’

  ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ He stared out of the window and said slowly, ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Ashy found Beverley’s body on Tuesday afternoon, when she stopped for a pee on the way home. It must have been between the track and the loch. She pulled the boat over it to hide it, and reckoned she’d save Fergus a heap of grief if she dumped it in the river in the one pool where no one was likely to find it. So she went back next day, sent Nicky and Maya off in different directions, and when they were well out of sight she did exactly that.’

  Lady Priscilla shook her head. ‘The Greeting Pool must be nearly a mile from the trout-loch. How could Ashy get the body down there?’

  ‘On the pony, of course. Remember how late Ashy got back that evening? How she said she’d had trouble with the pony? I’ll lay you any money you like that what old Rory was objecting to was having a stiff loaded on to his saddle along with the painting gear.’

  ‘I can’t – I simply cannot believe that Ashy –’

  ‘Well, I can.’ He saw her uncertainty and pressed his advantage. ‘And if you don’t want me to air that particular theory to Inspector Robb –’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Care to bet?’

  ‘All right,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’ll dig out any lowdown I can on Fergus. But don’t expect –’ she broke off as a trim blonde nurse bustled in.

  ‘Time for your bath, Mr Cooper.’

  ‘I’m just off,’ said Lady Priscilla, uncoiling herself from the low armchair. ‘I’ll look in tomorrow if there’s time.’

  ‘Don’t strain yourself.’ Everard winked at the nurse. ‘These lovely girls know how to make me comfortable.’

  As Lady Priscilla walked away down the shiny corridor, she heard a stifled squeal followed by a slap and, a moment later, her husband’s loud chortle.

  ****