Murder Takes the High Road(70)

Trevor said, “If Vanessa was murdered, I think it’s pretty obvious who did it. John Knight sneaking out of here in the middle of the night is as good as a confession.”

“What?” I sat up straight.

He met my gaze in direct challenge. “All that bullshit about having to flee because of an insurance emergency. Was the queen late on her premium? Only you would fall for that.”

“I see. And when do you imagine he committed the crime? We were together the entire night.”

“Presumably you slept most of the—”

“Presumably you should mind your own business.”

His eyes widened with shock. Apparently, the earlier accusations had just been a fishing expedition? As an angry red tide washed over his face, there was some uncomfortable shifting and clearing of throats. And as much as I didn’t like Vance, the expression on his face as he stared at Trevor made even me wince.

Elizabeth said in that same calm tone, “It would appear the Scherfs and Rices also departed at some time during the last twelve hours. Their luggage is missing.”

This naturally caused a lot of excitement and consternation. I remained quiet. I’d share everything I knew with the authorities, once they arrived, but in the meantime, I didn’t know what might jeopardize John’s case.

It worried me that Trevor had been so quick to accuse John. Not least because I had not been awake all night and could not actually vouch for John’s whereabouts when Vanessa had been killed—unless she’d been killed after three a.m. Were the authorities liable to jump to the same conclusions? John’s company could back him up as far as why he’d been on the tour, and the departure of the Scherfs and Rices explained why he’d left when he had. But neither of those things proved John hadn’t decided on a little extracurricular homicide, especially after he’d publicly demonstrated his antipathy for Vanessa.

One thing I’d learned from true crime television was that miscarriages of justice were not as rare as we’d all like to believe.

I suggested, “Maybe someone with some medical experience should take a look?”

I was thinking of Wally. He was a pediatrician, according to his bio. But Yvonne immediately volunteered her services.

Nobody had much to say to that. Ben stared at her.

“Unless you have a better idea,” Yvonne said.

Since Wally didn’t speak up, I didn’t have a better idea—but I wasn’t sure how helpful the offer was since according to her group bio Yvonne was a retired veterinarian.

In any case, her expertise wasn’t needed. Nedda said wearily, “I’ll examine her.” She explained she was a retired GP.

“Why haven’t you said so before now?” Yvonne demanded. “Why isn’t it in your bio?”

“I didn’t feel like spending the trip dispensing free medical advice,” Nedda told her.

There was further discussion, a little debate, and then Nedda disappeared upstairs with Elizabeth.

We waited in a stiff and somber silence.

Hamish muttered something about shock, left the room, and returned shortly after with a bottle of whisky. A red-eyed maid followed, glasses rattling on the tray she held. Hamish began to pour.

After a time, Alison said, “I wonder if arrangements have been made for dinner.”

“Dinner!” Daya exclaimed hysterically. “How can you think about dinner at a time like this?” Roddy patted her hand and made shushing noises. Funny how Daya had seemed the dominant partner in that relationship until tragedy struck. Now she was practically clinging to him.

“It’s my job to look out for your well-being,” Alison said defensively.

“Of course, it is, dear. People have to eat,” Rose said reasonably.

Alison did not leave the room however. No one moved from their chair. We continued to wait, listening to the whispering rain gossiping to the windows.

At last Nedda returned with Elizabeth. “It looks like her heart gave out.” Nedda’s expression was grave.

“Then it was a natural death?” Wally seemed oddly relieved.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd. The relief in the room at Nedda’s words was palpable.

Nedda hesitated. “We tried to phone the mainland. No go.”

My heart sank as I studied her face. There was worry in her eyes.

“Phone the mainland?” Sally repeated. “Why? I thought the authorities were on their way.”

Elizabeth said, “And so they are. In the meantime, we’re experiencing severe weather conditions. There are problems with the phones and broadband after the afternoon’s lightning storms. As soon as the storm lets up—”

I was still watching Nedda. Yes, she was worried and trying to hide the fact. I said, “Which is likely to be when?”

“I-it’s difficult to say. The storm is supposed to pass tonight.”

“You must have a radio or some way of communicating in an emergency,” I said to Elizabeth.

“But the authorities are already coming,” Sally persisted.

“Och, it’s not only us,” Elizabeth said. “There’s likely a problem with blown power fuses at the radio station at Wideford Hill radio station on Orkney. It’s happened before. Last time it resulted in a communications blackout in the Northern Isles, disrupting phones and emergency services.”