‘Do we know Morag wasn’t there? – Oh, yes, of course we do. I heard her close the front door when she came back from her stroll, and that was some time after I’d seen Colin leaving.’
‘How long a time?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘I couldn’t say. I’d gone back to bed and I suppose I had gone to sleep. I don’t think there could have been much of an interval, though.’
‘Did Mrs Lowson know you had heard her come in?’
‘I don’t suppose so. I thought it might have been Colin back again – he had a key—’
‘He wouldn’t have needed it,’ said Adrian. ‘He told me, when I went over to Saltacres to see him after – after it happened – that he had not closed the front door behind him for fear of waking us up.’
‘You thought it might have been Mr Palgrave come back,’ said Dame Beatrice to Miranda. ‘What made you conclude that it was Mrs Lowson?’
‘First, because she closed the front door with quite a bang, whereas Colin had been very quiet, and, second, because I went to the top of the stairs and heard them – Morag and Cupar – talking. He said she had been out a long time and she said she had walked to the windmill to see it by moonlight. That was all I heard before I went back to bed.’
‘Where would Mr Palgrave have gone when he went upstairs?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘Oh, into Camilla’s room.’
‘Which means that he knew she was not likely to come back, do you mean?’
‘He certainly wouldn’t have gone in if he’d known she was likely to find him there,’ said Adrian. ‘The wretched – sorry! – the girl absolutely haunted the poor chap – pursued him, don’t you know. He was scared to death of her. I can’t think why he went for that bathe.’
‘However, it seems that he did and that they walked towards the sea together that night. The moon is the goddess of maidens. It is also apt to be a powerful aphrodisiac,’ said Dame Beatrice.
‘Oh, I expect they only went for a swim,’ said Miranda. ‘Colin must have found it very uncomfortable if he tried to sleep in his car.’
‘I think I had better have a word with Mrs Lowson,’ said Dame Beatrice.
From Adrian’s description of its situation, the cottage at Saltacres was easy enough to find and Morag was in. Dame Beatrice produced her official card.
‘Oh, yes, come in,’ said Morag. ‘I think you have met my husband before. He will be back shortly. He has just gone into the village to get some fishing-tackle. Please sit down, Dame Beatrice. Adrian Kirby told us that he would try to get in touch with you. It is good of you to take an interest, but I don’t see that there is anything anybody can do. The verdict at the inquest was quite clear and the police were satisfied with it. I know what the Kirbys think, but, after all, even the most sensible girls do foolish things at times, and I would not have called Camilla St John a sensible girl.’
‘No?’ said Dame Beatrice, stemming the flow of prattle and wondering why Morag was so nervous. ‘Tell me what you know of her. Had you a long acquaintance with her?’
‘No, indeed. She was here when we arrived, but I had never met her before and my husband and I had been here no time at all before she – before it happened.’
‘Women size one another up very quickly. What did you make of her?’
‘Nothing much, though I was told that she was man-mad. That sort always run into trouble sooner or later.’
‘To put it bluntly, Mrs Lowson, I gather that you do not entirely dismiss what I take to be Mr Kirby’s opinion.’
‘That she was murdered? Oh, I can’t believe
‘And then?’
‘Well, obviously she got into difficulties and when the man found that he couldn’t save her, I think he panicked and sheered off.’
‘I see. What I find difficult to understand is why either of them bathed on an outgoing tide at all. Miss Hoveton St John knew the dangers and one would think that she could have convinced the man of them.’
‘Girls are very silly where men are concerned, and Camilla, from what I saw of her, would have risked her life to get hold of one. Oh, here comes Cupar,’ said Morag, obviously relieved.
Cupar Lowson was red-haired, rubicund, the round-faced, cherubic type to which some Lowland Scots belong. He came from Fife, he had told Dame Beatrice when they met after one of her lectures, but she decided that, far back, one of his ancestors had been numbered among the marauding Danes who had harried Northumbria and may have moved over the Border later in history.
He greeted Dame Beatrice with the utmost cordiality and reminded her that they had met in Edinburgh.
‘I remember being particularly impressed by your theories as to the psychological reasons for infanticide,’ he said pleasantly.
‘Including infants of just under twenty-one years of age?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘Ah, you’ve been in touch with Adrian and Miranda Kirby. But surely they’ve got a bee in their bonnet?’
‘That remains to be seen. However, the death of a young girl is always more of a tragedy than one can contemplate unmoved, and no doubt the Kirbys were fond of the child.’
‘I don’t think Adrian was,’ said Morag, ‘if you ask my opinion.’
‘Well, at any rate, I received a most interesting letter from him. Whether he has convinced me that the girl’s death was no accident is another matter entirely.’
‘I don’t see how any further enquiry can help clear things up,’ said Lowson. ‘The verdict at the inquest was clear enough.’
‘I know you saw little of the girl while she was with you, but what impression did you form of her?’
‘The same impression as I formed when we had her in my hospital about eighteen months ago. She had had a bit of a knock from a car – nothing very serious – and we took her in for observation, so I had a look at her as a matter of course. She tried to get on my list when I was taken into partnership by my father after I’d qualified, but I wasn’t having any. I knew she’d be everlastingly in the surgery if I took her on. I told her I had got my full quota of N.H. patients and that I didn’t take private cases. Both stories were lies, but I made her swallow them. I had a job to convince her. She was a very persistent young lassie. No doubt the Greeks had a word for her.’
‘She was the complete man-chaser,’ said Morag. ‘Miranda told me about her.’
‘But hardly a
‘She was a menace,’ said Morag.
‘She only needed some fellow who’d stand no nonsense. If such had married her, the lassie would have been well enough. He’d have made her eat regular meals, for one thing, and filled her out a bit.’
‘It would be interesting to find out what happened to her suitcase,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘According to something Mr Kirby mentioned in his letter to me, the police are interested in it and it seems doubtful whether Miss St John herself took it out of the cottage while the rest of you were at the public house, or whether Mr Palgrave took it. Mr Palgrave, again according to Mr Kirby, suffered some harassment from the police on this score, but they seem to have satisfied themselves that it was not in his possession. However, I shall make my own enquiries. I understand he stayed at The Stadholder in Stack Ferry.’
Dame Beatrice approved of The Stadholder – Adrian had mentioned in his letter that Palgrave had stayed there. She asked whether they could let her have a room and one for her chauffeur. As it happened, they had received a cancellation that very morning. Dame Beatrice mentioned that a young acquaintance of hers, a Mr Palgrave, had stayed at the hotel recently.
‘Ah, yes, Mr Palgrave vacated his room a few days ago. Your man could have that, if agreeable to you.’
Dame Beatrice inspected the room, looked at the very narrow bed and the Spartan furnishings and made her opening gambit.
‘Mr Palgrave did not have his wife with him, then,’ she observed. She learned (not at all to her surprise!) that Mr Palgrave had been alone during his stay except for two men who had merely joined him in the bar. They had never set eyes on either of them before. One had slumped down as though he was very tired and from the dust on his shoes (the sharp-eyed receptionist observed) they concluded that he had walked a considerable distance. He
