Read Online A Death in the Highlands by Caroline Dunford - Free Book Online Page B

Merry’s empty bed.
    After the initial thudding of my heart slowed, I collected my wits and noted there were no signs of violence in the room. Along with her person, Merry’s uniform was also missing. I hurried to wash and dress.
    The servants’ stairs held no fear for me this morning and I quickly made my way along the passages towards the kitchen. A glorious smell of sausages assailed my nostrils. I broke into a run, almost colliding with Susan, who gave me a sneer, a muttered ‘Morning’ and an unnecessary bang on my elbow as she flounced past.
    ‘Is it breakfast time already?’ I asked, horrified, as I ran into the kitchen. Jock was busy at the range and Merry was sitting at the table with a platter of sausages in front of her. She jumped to her feet at my words.
    ‘Och no, hen,’ said the chef without turning. ‘I’m getting a start on the cold-cooked meats for the shooting picnic.’
    ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ I replied. I sank down onto a chair.
    ‘Merry here’s doing a wee bit of tasting for me. Maybe you’d like to try a bite yerself?’
    Merry flashed me a guilty smile and pushed the plate across. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said coldly. ‘There are still the sticks, bags and various accoutrements that need to be sorted for the shooting party.’
    Merry bit her lip. ‘I’ve done ’em. I was up early.’
    ‘Good breath of Scottish air just the right thing to set peely-wally young things like yous both right,’ said Jock obscurely.
    ‘Thank you, Merry. That was most helpful.’ Even to my own ears I sounded stuffy. Gingerly I picked up a hot sausage and nibbled at it. ‘Jock, I need to ask you a question.’
    ‘Aye, right, lass,’ came the muffled reply from between the pots and pans. ‘I really need to start on yon breakfast the noo.’
    ‘I came down last night to find the back door banging in the wind and the pantry door open. Can you explain that?’
    There was a loud crash of pans. Jock slammed a dish into one of the upper ovens. ‘I’m tae busy thinkin’ of naught but the breakfast, hen.’
    Merry glanced askance at me. I could feel myself blushing vividly. ‘Jock, I need to know if you know anything of this instance.’
    The chef turned round. His face was red and sweaty. He was frowning heavily. I had not previously realised how stocky and imposing a man he was. I held my ground.
    ‘And if I won’t answer your questions will yer go running to Rory McLeod? Is that it?’
    I invoked the spirit of my mother, who in her day did (and I suspect still does) put the fear of God into butchers and bishops alike when her ancestral nature was roused. ‘I see no reason why I should go running to anyone, Jock. I am housekeeper here and entitled to know exactly what has been occurring. Although if you do not wish to oblige me I suppose I must ask you to answer directly to Lord Richard.’ I bit decidedly into the sausage to emphasise my determination. It was rather hot and I burnt my tongue, but by a supreme effort of will I kept my mouth shut. It worked. My mark hit home.
    ‘Oh, well, there’s no need to go bothering the new master.’
    ‘Indeed I hope not. Well?’ I raised a single eyebrow. It was a gesture I had seen Mr Bertram use to great effect in our previous adventures. I confess I had practised the action in the mirror, but this was the first occasion I had had to try it out. It worked like a charm.
    ‘Well, now I’m not saying how it was, but it might have been Susan, like. She’s gey poor after what’s all that’s befallen her. The old master never used to mind if the odd bit or piece went missing from the pantry as long as it was nothing serious.’
    ‘And the door? Is it normal practice to leave it unlocked?’
    Jock suddenly found his boots of great interest. ‘I’ve a suspicion how if it had been Susan she might have been startled by someone coming down.’
    ‘But someone would have had to have left the door unlocked in the first place. Or indeed have unbolted it