My Bones Will Keep

‘And that would have been?’

‘What had happened to a ship, probably based on Leith, whose name began with the letters SA. Well, as it happened, my informant at Lloyds was able to inform me that a ship based on Leith, whose lawful trade appears to have been that of a collier, blew up and burnt out in the Gulf of Mexico two years ago. She was called the Saracen. She blew up, with all hands, and the cause of the explosion was unknown.’

‘What was the amount of the insurance?’

‘That I did not ask, but as my informant did not mention the matter, I take it that the insurance was adequate and the premiums not abnormally high, and that the underwriters had no proof or even suspicion of sabotage.’

‘Sabotage,’ said the inspector thoughtfully. ‘What gared you think of sabotage, ma’am?’

‘Simply that I cannot see why a cargo of coal, destined, it appeared, for Montevideo, should blow up at all. A fire, of itself, I could understand, but an explosion in such a ship sounds rather unlikely. Of course, I am biased by the fact that I believe these murders to be connected in some way with these ships which camouflage their names as soon as they are on the high seas. Then,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘we must get rid of that skian- dhu.’

‘That what?’ cried Laura. ‘But that and the barrel of rum are the most picturesque touches in the whole thing!’

‘We must get rid of the skian-dhu,’ her employer repeated. ‘It is a red herring so far as I can see.’

‘Now how on earth do you know that, ma’am?’ demanded the inspector. ‘I ken well that you’re a distinguished member of the medical profession, but you did not even see the body, let alone perform a postmortem on it! We’ve been keeping very quiet about the other injury, but there’s no doubt whatever that we believe the knife-wound was the death wound, ay, and the murderer must go on thinking so, too. But what way…?’

‘Well, I confess that, in the beginning, I was as much in the dark as the rest of the public. It was something Laura said which made me think that the stabbing might be a gesture on the part of somebody who wanted the murder to appear an even more dramatic business than it was.’

‘Good Lord! That young ass Grant!’ said Laura. ‘But what pearl of great price fell from my lips to put you wise about the knife-wound?’

‘When it was known that it was an empty cask of rum in which the body was found. Do you not remember asking…’

‘Whisky! Of course!’

‘And, of course, if the skian-dhu had any place in the matter, it ought to have been connected with whisky. Rum goes…’

‘With a cutlass and not with a skian-dhu,’ said Laura, slapping her hand on the arm of the chair. ‘Well, Inspector, what do you say about that?’

The inspector’s smile replied to her, but he spoke as well.

‘About that, Mrs Gavin, all that I can say has been said already. “There’s a chiel amang us taking notes.” I congratulate you on your logic and your powers of deduction, ma’am,’ he added gallantly, addressing Dame Beatrice. ‘Of course, whatever activities are going on in the West Indies, South America or Mexico (or anywhere else, for that matter), is not our business at present. No, no. But what is our business is murder.’

‘Well, you’ve got two murders on your hands, then,’ said Laura. ‘There’s the man who was pushed under a car in Edinburgh and now the laird of Tannasgan.’

‘I doubt whether the incident in Edinburgh was intended to result in death,’ said the inspector. ‘You couldna guarantee that the man would be killed. I am inclined to look upon it as a disciplinary action. It was intended to frighten and maybe punish somebody who was threatening to sell out to the police. I must look up the files. They may well cast a good deal of light.’

Laura and Dame Beatrice were about to take their leave when there came across the water the loud sound of a bell.

‘Somebody coming,’ said the inspector. He glanced out of the window. ‘Now, why ding the bell? Corrie is there with the wee boat. Ah, it is Mr Macbeth. It might be as well if you were not in evidence, ladies. Gin you would just efface yourselves, maybe…’

Dame Beatrice and Laura effaced themselves, the former at the bend of the stairs and the latter in the kitchen, and both heard the front door flung open. Macbeth’s voice cried violently:

‘Will you not bring that young man’s heart to me on a siller dish and with cresses heaped around it!’

‘Well, now, Mr Bradan,’ Dame Beatrice heard the inspector’s soothing voice respond, ‘what way is it that you’re speiring after Mr Grant’s youthful heart?’

‘Bradan? I am not Bradan! What gars you call me a salmon? I was born a Scot, like yourself.’

‘Come, come, now! Something has vexed you. Did you not get what you wanted at Tigh-Osda?’

‘I did not. You might just as well arrest me for my cousin’s murder and have done with it. Who am I, to protest my innocence?’

‘You may protest your innocence with all the voice you have, man. It was a good day you had when you invited Mrs Gavin – you mind her, do you? – to stay to dinner that time.’

‘Mrs Gavin? And who may she be?’

‘She will – ah, well, maybe you had better see her, for she’s here again.’ He called loudly, ‘Come, if you please, Mrs Gavin, for a word with Mr…’ He hesitated.

‘Grant,’ said Macbeth. Laura slipped noiselessly out of the kitchen, glanced up the stairs, received a confirmatory nod from Dame Beatrice and presented herself in the dining-room doorway.