Part 6
He glanced at the others.
The cook stared into her coffee.
Nessa folded and unfolded a paper napkin.
Mara waited.
Mr. Kerr said, “That no member of staff was to repeat conversation from the salon.”
“Was Dunrath mentioned?”
His face closed.
The housekeeper spoke. “We should have a solicitor.”
“You should,” Mara said. “One not paid by either family.”
That surprised them.
Mr. Kerr looked toward the door. “We are employees. We cannot discuss private matters belonging to the household.”
“Two engineers died at Dunrath.”
“We know.”
“Did Lady Strathairn tell you not to speak about them?”
“No,” Nessa said.
Mr. Kerr’s gaze snapped toward her.
Nessa’s face reddened, but she continued. “She didn’t say not to speak about the men. She said no one was to mention that one of their wives had come here.”
Mara sat straighter.
“What wife?”
The room went silent again.
The cook closed her eyes.
Nessa looked at Mr. Kerr, then at Mara’s temple.
“Mrs. MacRae,” she said. “Eileen MacRae. Her husband was the one they didn’t find.”
“When did she come?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Why?”
Nessa shook her head. “I don’t know. She was at the gate. Security wouldn’t let her through.”
“Did anyone speak to her?”
“I did.”
Mr. Kerr said her name in warning.
Nessa’s hands began to tremble. She pressed them flat against the table.
“She’d been standing in the rain,” she said. “I took bins out. She asked me to give Mr. Julian an envelope.”
Mara looked at Julian’s place in her mind: his untouched champagne, his refusal to look at her, the red gathering slowly in his face.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to it?”
“He opened it in the west corridor. Lady Strathairn came out of the library. They argued.”
“About what?”
“I couldn’t hear all of it.”
“What did you hear?”
Nessa looked again toward the door.
Mara lowered her voice. “You do not have to answer me. But if you choose to, I will make sure you have independent legal advice. I will put that in writing before you say anything else.”
The young woman gave an uncertain nod.
“She said the dinner had to go ahead,” Nessa whispered. “Mr. Julian said it was finished. Lady Strathairn said nothing was finished until the papers were signed.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she mention Dunrath?”
“Yes.”
The cook began crying quietly, without sound. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and looked annoyed with herself.
Nessa continued. “Lady Strathairn said Mrs. MacRae had already taken money. Mr. Julian said it wasn’t enough to buy her silence. Then Lady Strathairn said silence wasn’t bought. It was enforced.”
Mara felt the skin along her arms tighten.
Mr. Kerr gripped the edge of the sink.
“Did anyone else hear that?” she asked.
The housekeeper nodded once.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
Mr. Kerr answered. “Because overhearing a private argument is not evidence of a crime.”
“No,” Mara said. “It is not.”
The care in her answer seemed to unsettle him.
She looked at Nessa. “What was in the envelope?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it now?”
“Mr. Julian had it.”
Mara rose.
Mr. Kerr stepped forward. “Madam.”
She stopped.
His face had become gray beneath the kitchen lights.
“I did not see who threw the stopper,” he said.
“I understand.”
“But I saw Lady Strathairn take it from the sideboard before dinner.”
The room went still.
“Why?”
“She said the decanter was incorrectly placed. She removed the stopper and held it while I moved the tray. Then Sir Malcolm arrived, and I was called to the hall.”
“What happened to the stopper?”
“I did not see.”
“Why did you pick it up afterward?”
He looked down at his hands.
“Lady Strathairn told me to.”
Mara did not speak.
“She said, ‘Kerr, remove that.’ I obeyed.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No.”
“Did you see it leave her hand?”
“No.”
He looked at the staff around him, then back at Mara.
“I have worked here since Mr. Julian was born. My wife’s cottage is owned by the estate. My pension is administered through the family office.”
“I know.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t believe you do.”
The words were not disrespectful. They were tired.
Mara felt heat rise in her face.
“You are right,” she said.
Mr. Kerr’s shoulders lowered slightly.
She took a sheet of paper from beside the telephone and wrote the name of a solicitor in Aberdeen who had once represented Calder employees in a wage dispute. Mara did not know her personally, which was the point.
“This woman has no connection to my father or the Strathairns. I’ll ask her office whether they can advise all of you or refer you separately. No one should make a formal statement because I asked.”
Nessa looked at the paper but did not touch it.
Mara added her own number and the number of the female police sergeant.
Then she left the kitchen.
Julian was not in the salon, the library, or the hall.
She found him in the old music room above the east wing, sitting at a grand piano that had not been tuned in years. The room smelled of dust and damp wool. A narrow window looked toward the black line of the sea.
He had removed his jacket and bow tie. The top button of his shirt was open. In front of him, on the piano’s closed lid, lay an envelope softened by rain.
Mara stopped in the doorway.
“Eileen MacRae gave you that.”
Julian did not turn. “Nessa told you.”
“She told me you argued with your mother.”
“That narrows nothing down.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
He touched one corner with his finger.
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
He opened the envelope and slid out a picture printed on ordinary paper. It showed a steel support assembly beneath the Dunrath platform. A fracture ran through one of the connecting collars.
May you like
On the back, someone had written a date.
The photograph had been taken three weeks before the accident.
