My Bones Will Keep

‘Did you? You have an excellent verbal memory and, I am pretty sure, you reported your conversation with him verbatim. I have my notes.’

She produced a small, black-covered book and studied it thoughtfully.

‘Verbatim? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised,’ said Laura. ‘The whole thing was more than a bit outre, if that’s the word I want, so I wasn’t likely to forget anything that was said. But what’s your idea?’

‘Vaguely, that the fabulous animals represent some kind of code.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘That is what we have to find out. Cast your mind back to the evening in question, and I will read out what you told me of what passed between you and Mr Macbeth. But, first, were you not a little surprised when you were welcomed, dried, warmed and fed?’

‘Well, after what Mrs Grant had said about the laird, I suppose I was, although Highlanders are always hospitable. But, of course, I was so horribly wet and cold that I was only too thankful to get into the house, and when the old boy actually welcomed me, in his odd sort of way, all my critical faculty left me.’

‘Not altogether. You knew that it would be wise to leave Tannasgan instead of waiting until the morning. Well, now, this is what you told me. I give it in the form of a dialogue. I may add my own comments if I see fit.

Macbeth: Are there werewolves in your part of the country?

Laura: No. They live in the Hartz Mountains. (An equivocal answer, if he was trying to pump you.)

Macbeth: They live in the Grampians; they thrive in the Cairngorms; they have been known at Leith and now they are here.’

Laura: So is the basilisk.

Macbeth (interested to a degree which makes Laura wonder whether he is rather more than eccentric): Do you tell me that? (Did you not think that there was something in your answer which caused him to deepen his suspicion that there was more behind your unexpected visit than he had supposed? No, don’t answer now. Just think it over.)

Laura: And what about the cockatrice? (And it was with this question that you really put the cat among the pigeons, I think. He thought you were one of the cognoscenti or else had been sent as a spy. The same sort of thing happened a moment later. Do you remember?)

Laura (continuing after he has explained that the basilisk and the cockatrice were one and the same creature): I should have asked about the salamander.

Macbeth (speaking, I think, allegorically): I had one once … until he fell into the fire … There was a blaze! It nearly had my house burnt down … Half-way to the Golden Gate – I mean the Antipodes – is the salamander. Ay, on fire he feeds and grows … (At this point he was quite certain that you knew what he was talking about. Now, does nothing strike you as significant?’)

‘The mention of Leith and the slip of the tongue about the Antipodes,’ said Laura.

‘The mention of Leith I am taking to be a deliberate attempt to test you. The Antipodes reference I am inclined to leave for further investigation. The other was no slip of the tongue. The Golden Gate, if I am right, meant something other than a geographical location. I think it referred to money.’

Laura knitted her brows.

‘Down in the forest nothing stirs,’ she said. ‘Ought it to?’

Dame Beatrice waved an apologetic claw.

‘All will be gay when noontide wakes anew the buttercups,’ she said. ‘Meanwhile, what of our other suspects?’

‘Well, we have mentioned the Corries, but you know what I think about her.’

‘Like you, I think we may forget Mrs Corrie as a suspect, although I still wish to talk with her. You did remark once, though, I believe, that the Corries did not seem the kind of people who would have consented to serve a man such as the laird.’

‘No. In a way, though, Mrs C. seemed quite the type to look after the loony Macbeth. I thought her simple and dignified and kind, and no end fond of a joke.’

‘Just so. Well, the only reason for her to have murdered the laird would seem to be that she was tired of his ways and preferred those of his successor.’

Laura laughed. ‘Could be,’ she said. ‘Well, who’s next?’

‘Young Grant wanted his newspaper scoop so badly that he murdered the laird and then reported the death.’

Laura laughed again.

‘That rabbit? Oh, rot, whatever you may say. We agreed, long ago, I thought, that, liar though he’s proved himself to be, he isn’t a murderer.’

‘I am not convinced that I fully associated myself with that opinion. What was he doing on Tannasgan?’

‘I should say that he’s got reason to hope for some sort of scoop – that part of his story may be true – and had the horrors when he found out that he might have let himself in for being suspected of murder. He was in a panic all right, following me about all over the place like that. Don’t you think so?’

‘I shall call upon the editor of the Freagair local newspaper,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘In fact, we might make it our next assignment.’