`When did you see Mr Morton last?'
Mr Burton put his hand to his chin and knitted his brows. At about two minutes past ten, sir, when he went out.'
`But wasn't he at the Murano dinner in North Berwick with the rest of them?'
`No sir. He informed Lord Kinture earlier in the evening that he had decided not to go.'
`Do you have any idea why?'
`No, sir. I do not believe he gave a reason. However he did have a telephone call, just before seven.'
`Who took the call?'
I did, sir. The caller, a gentleman, asked for Mr Morton by name, but would not give his. He said merely that it was a business call. I put the call through to Mr Morton's room.'
`Can you describe the caller's voice?'
`Not really, sir. It was a bad line, unusual in these days. It was a deep voice, but I could not determine the accent with any degree of certainty.'
`British, American?'
I could not say even that, sir.'
`Fair enough,' said Skinner. 'When Morton went out, what was he wearing?'
Mr Burton thought for a moment. 'A sports jacket, sir, grey slacks
…' The butler paused and his mouth curled with distaste, `… and golf shoes. I remember hearing their sound as he crossed the hall.'
`He didn't say where he was going?'
`No, sir.'
Did you hear him come back in?'
`No sir, I did not, but I was watching television in my room from that time on until Lord Kinture summoned me, upon the party's return from North Berwick, to say that he could see a fire on the course, and asked me to call the head greenkeeper, and the Brigade.'
Skinner nodded. 'After that, what happened?'
`Nothing, sir. Lord Kinture said that the fire seemed to be isolated. Probably vandals, he thought. He was annoyed, but he refused to allow it to spoil his evening. He said that he intended to set an example to the rest by retiring for the night in spite of it, and he suggested that his guests did the same.
`To my knowledge sir, everyone did.'
And after that, could Mr Morton have come in?'
`No, sir, not without my knowing of it. At that point I locked up for the night.'
OK.' Skinner glanced around the room. There was a notepad by the phone on the bedside table, with a faint scrawl on the top sheet. He picked it up looked at it and handed it to Martin. The Superintendent squinted at it through his green-tinted lenses, and read aloud.
'Witches' Hill. Ten-thirty.'
`That tears it, Andy.'
He turned back to the butler. 'Thank you, Mr Burton. We'll go for now, but I'll be back in the morning to see Lord Kinture. In the meantime I'd like you to keep our visit entirely to yourself.'
Mr Burton looked puzzled, but nodded. 'If that is your wish, sir.' He led them from the room, and back downstairs to the front door.
As he held it open for the two policemen to leave, he coughed quietly. 'Sir, if I may. Should Mr Morton, return, do you wish me to call you?'
Skinner grunted, grimly. 'I don't think that'll happen, Mr B. Cinders won't be back from this ball!'
Sixty-four
Alex was on the couch, where she had been when they had left. She was wearing cordless headphones, but the CD readout showed that the disc to which she had been listening had played itself out. Her dark curls had fallen across her face, and she was asleep.
Andy, still self-conscious in Bob's presence, leaned across and kissed her gently on the forehead. Her eyes opened wide and she jerked upright with a look of confusion, as she regained her mental bearings, and as the day's events flooded back.
She took Andy's outstretched hands and he drew her to her feet. Then he took off the headphones, about which she had forgotten, completely. Bob smiled. 'Look, you two, I'm off to bed. I need to catch what sleep I can, and you'll have things to, er, talk about, on your own.'
He reached out and touched his daughter's hair. 'I've missed you, lass. And believe me, now that the shock's worn off, I really am pleased for the two of you.'
She looked back at him and her eyes moistened. 'Thanks, Pops.'
As he turned to leave, she had a sudden recollection. 'Oh, I almost forgot. While you were out, dear old Henry called; Henry Wills. He said he was sorry about the hour, but that he'd just finished his research and he thought you'd like to hear at once. He left a message.' She picked up a notepad, and read from it.
`He said that he rechecked the accounts of the witches' trial. He said that they confirmed that the only crime of which they were accused was of raising the storm off Aberlady. He said too that in 1597, James Carr married Louise Meynel, the daughter of the Count of Bordeaux, and a Catholic. James succeeded to the Earldom of Kinture in January 1598. The storm was in September that year, as King James was sailing back to Leith from Arbroath, and the trial and burning were in October. He said that one of the ships escorting the King was sunk in the storm, and that he was landed in Port Seton and taken by coach to Edinburgh Castle. He said I should tell you that specifically. Edinburgh Castle, not Holyrood Palace.'
Skinner's eyebrows rose. 'Edinburgh Castle indeed. I think I see what he's getting at.' He grinned. 'I think I'm going to enjoy my next visit to Bracklands.
`Night, you two.' He closed the door behind him and left Andy and Alex alone, for the first time in three months. He drew her to him. She was tall and her head rested easily on his shoulder. 'Andy, I'm so sorry,' she whispered.
`Hush.' He stopped her mouth with a long slow kiss, which lingered, on and on. Their bodies moved hungrily against each other chest to chest, groin to groin. When they resurfaced, gasping, he looked into her eyes. 'Have the last three months been anything like as bad for you as they were for me, d'you think?'
I don't think. I know they have.'
'And in all that time, have you ever said to yourself, once even, 'God, that was a lucky escape!'?'
She smiled and shook her head. i
And as we stand here now, are you thinking, as I am now, 'Oh, how I want this person to be with me, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life'?'
Oh boy, I surely am.'
`Then we've won. We've been tested — not by Bob, but by circumstances, and by ourselves — and we've survived. We've had our crisis and we've come through it stronger than we've ever been, as individuals and as a couple.'
He laughed softly, and she caught the hoppy scent of beer on his breath. 'Know what I've got back in my flat? A ticket for a crossing on the Channel Tunnel. For next Tuesday, the day after tomorrow. When you left I cancelled my leave. The other day I told Proud Jimmy I was taking three weeks. Come Wednesday, I'd have been heading down the Autoroute, in search of Square bloody Peg. And in search of you.
She beamed at him, and kissed him again, hard and with delight. 'In that case, let's use it.
Let's you and I get in that bufty car of yours and go away, like we were going to do before I made a bottom of myself! Pops'll give us the keys to the villa in L'Escala, and we can spend those three weeks lying in the sun, and walking in the rain, and whatever… especially whatever. Deal?'
`Deal. Don't even bother to unpack.'
`You don't have any work that'll suddenly stop you, do you?'
He smiled and shook his head. 'That's the one good thing about that bloody uniform. It lets you plan your life
