Death behind every door, p.11
Death Behind Every Door, page 11
Clayton Moore’s car was a new SUV, parked in the drive, and as they walked out to it, he was already in tour-guide mode. “A brooch found in the ruins suggests something was going on back in the early years, and St. Columba did indeed travel through the area,” he told him. “Urquhart has been described as the defender of the loch, and one thing is certain—Urquhart saw much action, changed sides dozens of times and witnessed the various Scottish wars for independence. But, my friends, archaeologists believe that the area has been inhabited since about 2,000 BC. There would have been rich areas to farm as agriculture flourished, as well as fine hunting fields full of deer and boar to feed the people. Some say that William the Lion had a fort here, though that has never been proven. The origins of the castle ruins we see today date back to a time when the MacWilliam family rose against David I and his descendants. The last rebellion was put down circa 1229 and Alexander II granted the land to one of his key men, Thomas de Lundin, who then left it to his heir, Alan Durward—it’s believed that they then built the first fortification here. When Durward died, the castle and land were granted to John Comyn II, the Black. Now, of course, he—like John Balliol and Robert the Bruce—had a stake in the crown of Scotland, which would become important after the death of Alexander III and then his young child.”
“Alexander III!” Luke said. “From what I understand, the man brought about his own death, riding against all advice from his men into horrid weather—and dying when his horse panicked and threw him or trampled him or whatever.”
“Well, he died, and then so did the grandchild he’d named as his heir, Margaret, the Maid of Norway, and then there was no direct heir to the crown of Scotland. So, in fear of civil war if they went against one another, the Scots made the grave mistake of asking Edward I of England for help,” Moore said.
The owner of Gordon House nodded as he continued. “Bear in mind, the ruins are those of the original fortress and changes that were made through the centuries. Most important regarding the castle, though, is of course the fact that it was a key part of so much that had to do with the history of the country itself. The country, curious as it is, where we are now. Not a nation—our nation is Great Britain. And for all the blood that was shed, it was an act of union and lines of succession that brought us all together!”
Clayton Moore had no problem talking. He barely took a breath during the drive, though he did glance at Carly several times as he drove and spoke—she was seated next to him while Luke was in the back seat.
Behind Carly. This kind of killer wasn’t going to strike when he was appealing to them for their admiration and friendship. Still, Luke would be ready to protect her—back her up, rather, he reminded himself—should any form of attack be attempted.
They reached a parking lot and started up the trail when Moore waved to a man in a red cloak.
“One of the guides,” he murmured. “Dressed in red because Urquhart was once a Comyn stronghold and John Comyn III of Badenoch was known as the Red,” Moore explained. “Always remember that facts are few and must be followed and all else is often in the minds of those who follow. But here...let me try to go in order of time!”
“Comyn—murdered by Robert the Bruce, right?” Carly said.
“No one knows what went on in the church when the Bruce stabbed him,” Luke said.
Carly shook her head. “He thinks the world of Robert the Bruce when William Wallace was the true hero of Scotland!”
“Children! Don’t argue history!” Moore teased. “Bear in mind, the ruling class changed sides several times during the wars for independence. Balliol, Bruce and Comyn were all in line for the throne—Edward gave it to Balliol, as long as he could be overlord and he swore his fealty to Edward. That all went badly. Balliol was captured, Wallace picked up the fight—oh! And it’s most likely that he and Robert the Bruce never even met one another. But it’s true—Wallace being captured, hanged, drawn and quartered, with those quarters put on display, enraged the common man. Bruce was able at last to lead his men onward to the Battle of Bannockburn. Didn’t really end things—fighting went on for years after, but Bruce did hold Scotland, and the country went on to his heirs, and then, eventually, everything came together through the matrilineality—tracing kingship through the female line. Back to Urquhart! Let’s walk!”
They did. It was fascinating to see the various stages of the castle, where the great hall, great kitchen and “great chambers” living quarters for the family in charge might have been.
During the wars for independence the castle changed hands several times, Edward taking the castle, Edward losing the castle...
They saw another guide speaking to a crowd and listened.
“But it had been the Jacobite Rebellion that had spelled the end for Urquhart as a fortress. When James II, a Catholic, was deposed for William of Orange and Mary, supporters of James went into a series of rebellions. Were such wars over religion? People did believe, and it was important, but we can never forget that power and finances have been important through the centuries. But have we Americans here? Many of the Scots captured at the Battle of Culloden in 1746, often considered to be the last major battle on the British themselves, notwithstanding bombs, were given a choice—prison, death or service in the British military across the seas, keeping those nasty colonists in line. They were always causing trouble and the English military was always busy over there until... Well, you know, that nasty little thing that occurred in 1776. Oh, did I say that? No offense intended, my fine friends. As we’ve noted, history and victory can change everything, and the Yanks are now among our best friends!”
He was greeted with laughter. But his words were true.
Carly laughed softly with the others, looking over at Luke. He nodded. It was so true. History and victory changed the way one might remember all that had occurred.
There remains the great George Santayana saying, Luke thought. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
He looked at Carly and wondered if they were both thinking along the same lines.
History long past, and history remembered and perverted.
They knew about and remembered H. H. Holmes. They couldn’t allow a repeat of his career of scams and horrific murders.
“We need to see the sights!” Carly said. “To get up high—if we could take those stairs!”
“She wants to look for the Loch Ness Monster,” Luke told Clayton Moore.
“That’s fine,” Moore said.
He was still talking, showing Carly something in regards to stone balls that had been used as weapons.
But Carly was only pretending to listen, too. He saw she was pointing something out on the stretch of lawn that spanned out behind the castle.
There was someone standing there. A man in a kilt with a swath of tartan wool held over his shoulders by a brooch. There was something about him, other than the fact that no one else seemed to see him.
The man was looking at him.
Luke turned to Carly and nodded.
“Mr. Moore, I think I’d like to wander a bit more here. Would you be so kind as to accompany Carly on her monster watch?” he asked.
“Please, call me Clayton! And I am delighted to be of any assistance to Miss Carly, aye, that I am!” the man assured him.
He smiled, appearing to wander and then heading straight toward the man on the lawn.
The dead man.
As usual, the ghost was skeptical and wary at first.
“Y’see me, man?” the spirit demanded.
“I do,” Luke told him. He indicated a section of the woods rising beyond the castle and said, “If you would, sir.”
“Oh, I am no one’s ‘sir,’ my friend. Hamish of Inverness.”
“Hamish, thank you. I’m Luke, and I believe that you were watching us, looking at Mr. Moore, my friend, Carly, and myself.”
“Worried for ye, I be,” Hamish told him. “I have wondered for many a year why I remain, except to watch over this beloved land. It was near here I died, with my fellows seeking the protection of the forest after the fighting near Inverness at the Battle of Culloden. We dared not ride forward, not to Inverness, and we knew that we might find help or at least hide out in this direction. But...” He paused, studying Luke. “Time has buried my bones. And those of all who fought that day.”
“Hamish, the battles that tore your land and your people apart are now long over, so—”
“You are a colonist?” Hamish asked him.
Luke tried not to smile, remembering that the Battle of Culloden had taken place almost thirty years before the American Revolution.
But the ghost shook his head. “My pardon. You are an American. I watch that telly thing whenever I am able and...ah, well, it may be that here, where I fought, peace reigns, but the world...well, perhaps men will always go to war.”
“Unfortunately,” Luke agreed. “But—”
“You mustn’t leave her long with him!” Hamish said.
“Do you know something? Have you seen something?” Luke asked him.
Hamish frowned, looking at him. “Are you a sheriff?”
“Something like that,” Luke told him. Then he shrugged. “You watch TV and I know there are many American programs you may see here. I’m FBI.”
“Ah, but with no power here—”
“I have the police behind me.”
“Then you are investigating that man!” Hamish said.
“We are. We have nothing against him. He has a home near here—”
“Aye, that I know.”
“People have disappeared. And the media loves to speculate that it’s the Loch Ness Monster.”
“’Tis a monster, aye, all right, but not old Nessie. I saw him with her. Out here, where we are now. And then I saw him go back...and she wasnae with him and I searched for her and couldnae find her!”
“Her, who, do you know?”
“A pretty lass, a pretty lass indeed. They came a few times, laughing and a-playin’ as they roamed the ruins. But then they came this way...and I never saw her again.”
“When was this?”
“Two days, I believe. You will do what you must to find her?” the man demanded.
“I will. If you could be more detailed—”
“Would that I might, lad. Would that I might. The grounds here are deep and craggy, the forest can be rich. But she did not come out. I watched and waited and watched and waited. I believe she is there, that her flesh will rot, that she will be torn at by birds and creatures of the earth. She did not fall to Nessie! As I say, lad, another monster, of a different kind!”
“Thank you. I promise you, I will do what I can. We are trying to capture this man, and we believe that there is...”
Worse.
He almost said the word, but the spirit of Hamish of Inverness was disturbed as it was and he didn’t want to add to his distress. “Hamish, we’re working with the National Crime Agency and with Police Scotland and I will talk with them. They have a greater ability to search the woods while...we are worried that other events may be taking place at the house where he welcomes so many visitors. We’re also afraid he might be working with another man—”
“Aye! Aye, I’ve seen the two of them about, talking, plotting! They were here together with her the day before the one took her into the woods. Laughing and all, they were, and the one pretending that he was so in love yet stepping aside for the other!”
“Interesting,” Luke murmured. “Either they are truly good friends or working together on this, as we suspected. You don’t know the young lady’s name, do you?”
“Name, nay, I fear not. Wait, maybe, perhaps... Marion. Mary.”
Miss Mary Nelson. Herr Grunewald asked about her this morning, and she is supposedly on her way to John o’ Groats and the Shetland Islands.
“Hamish, I promise you, we’re going to find out what happened to her,” Luke said, hoping that he could keep that promise.
“Get back to yer lady lest she find herself in the woods, too,” Hamish said gravely.
“Right. Thank you.”
Luke started away but turned back. “Hamish, I don’t know these woods. My friend does, somewhat. She had family who came from Drumnadrochit. But none of us can search through these woods the way that you can. If—”
“I will be here, lad. I will be here,” Hamish promised.
“Thank you.”
Luke felt a strange sense of urgency then. Clayton Moore wasn’t going to pull anything now—not unless he’d had his partner kill Herr Grunewald in their absence and not while they were still in proximity to so many tourists. He knew that.
He still wanted to be back with Carly.
He hurried back to the area within the sprawling ruins where he had left Carly and Moore to walk up to the heights—to see their surroundings better and look for the Loch Ness Monster.
He was gratified to see they were just coming down the stone steps they had started up earlier.
“You’ve got to go up, Luke! It’s fantastic, the view. This is just a beautiful, beautiful area!”
“But no monster?” he inquired.
Carly gave him an icy smile. “One day, someone may prove you a jerk,” she said sweetly.
“Well, I guess I should head back. I need to return, but of course, you two can stay and walk around more—the ruins are quite large,” Moore told them.
Carly looked at Luke. “A little longer? We can get a rideshare here, right?” he asked Moore.
“Yes.” He laughed. “Scotland is a civilized country within the civilized nation of Great Britain!”
They both smiled and laughed. Moore waved as he headed out to his car. Luke thought he eyed Carly with greater speculation.
When he was gone, she asked Luke, “Did you—”
“Meet Hamish of Inverness. He died soon after Culloden, heading this way to avoid the king’s troops,” he said. “His injuries were too severe to survive, even though he escaped the main battle, is what I think from what he told me. And he saw our good friend Clayton Moore disappear into the forest with the young woman Herr Grunewald asked about this morning, Mary Nelson. He said they went into the woods together. But when Moore came out, he was alone. And now Moore claims Mary Nelson has headed north. How well do you know these woods?”
“Not very,” she told him. “I know Urquhart, the walk along the water. I never came out here to play in the woods.”
“That’s what I thought. And I’m trying to figure out a way to ask Campbell to have the local authorities check it out.”
“I’ll work on that,” Carly said, drawing out her phone.
He listened as she lied. A good lie.
“Sir, I lost the tourist who was just talking to me, but she insists she saw Clayton Moore disappear into the woods with a woman he claims left Gordon House to head to John o’ Groats and the Shetlands. Perhaps she’s fine and we might reach her...Oh. Well, we were hoping...I don’t know her name. My witness disappeared on a departing tour bus. She was distraught, but seemed to want to warn me about being alone with Clayton Moore...Yes, sir, thank you.”
She ended the call and looked at him.
“Come on,” he told her. “We’ll slip a few feet into the woods ourselves, and I’ll introduce you to Hamish and let him know the authorities will be searching for Mary Nelson.”
He reached for her hand. He wasn’t sure why. She took his easily. They were playing a part, of course, but there was no one watching them and...
He decided to quit overanalyzing himself and led her toward the point where he had met Hamish, stepping behind the cover of trees, although a conversation would look much more natural now that there were two of them.
Hamish stared at Carly in amazement, pleased to take her hand, and Carly knew to move it as if she could feel the pressure of his touch.
“Two in a day! I am stunned. It’s been decades since I’ve met a seer!” he exclaimed.
“And I am extremely pleased to meet you, Hamish of Inverness!” she told him. “And I want you to know the right people will be out here soon to comb the forest.”
“I cannae believe this!” he said, still studying her incredulously. “And I am e’er so grateful!”
“No, we’re grateful,” Carly replied.
Hamish turned back to Luke. “The lass is...”
“FBI, too,” Luke told him.
“But ye must take extreme care!” he warned.
“We will, I promise!” Carly said. She looked at him. Luke was afraid that she was going to suggest that they begin exploring the forest themselves. He spoke quickly.
“I wanted you to meet,” Luke said. “But I think we need to get back. There’s an elderly gentleman at the manor and I’d like to see to his welfare, too.”
He realized by the way Carly looked at him that she immediately understood his apprehension.
“We will meet again,” Carly assured Hamish. She turned to Luke. “Perhaps we should hurry!”
He nodded. “Check for a ride. I’ll get info to the right people and...”
“Someone will search the woods,” she finished softly.
“As I will be doin’ meself,” Hamish promised.
Seven
When they returned to the house, everything seemed as usual. They were both relieved to see Herr Grunewald was sitting in the library.
“Ah, my friends!” he said, waving as they came through the main entry. “How was your day?”
He obviously wanted company. Carly looked at Luke, who nodded and smiled. They were both simply glad to see him. He had a drink sitting next to him, perhaps a shot of good Scot’s whiskey, but he didn’t seem to have touched it yet.
“Our day was intriguing,” Carly said. “It was filled with beautiful scenery, but you know that.”
“You’re home early, and I’d have thought you’d be exploring till dark. Glad to see you for a bit, though, my friends. I do miss our dear Miss Nelson! She would so often join me here,” Grunewald told them.
