Death of Alistair MacTavish Read online

Bigsby responded quickly. “These instructions have been modified, Callum, as Lord MacTavish will now be paying for the full amount of our food and accommodation. If you could please take two bottles of malt whisky from the Glenrowan Distillery to our rooms for us to sample we’ll be delighted. We’re so much looking forward to staying with you as all the reports in the prestigious magazines and newspapers we’ve read regard this establishment as the best in Britain.”

  “I’ll alter the payment instruction immediately, Lord Bigsby, and then I’ll personally take two of the finest single malt whiskies to your rooms.”

  “That was quick thinking, my dear Lord, which is most unlike yourself,” I said.

  “When it comes to practical matters, James, an Oxford graduate has much more awareness than any of your Cambridge graduates who only store up useless theoretical knowledge in their so-called brains. I’m eagerly looking forward to our meal tonight. A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon with its rich fruit and caramel and vanilla overtones will complement the venison nicely.”

  “The homemade rowanberry jelly with the venison will be a new experience for us also. Scottish Raspberry Cranachan for dessert I’ve never heard of, but it says it’s a traditional Scottish recipe which includes honey and single malt whisky. Have you seen the cost of the venison main course, Bigsby, as it’s certainly dear. Ha! Ha!”

  “Very good, James, but I hope your jokes improve with the clear Scottish air.”

  The meal was excellent and even Bigsby had to agree that it was on a par with The Club. We were tired with the travelling so we decided to retire to bed and sample the Glenrowan whisky the following day.

  After an early breakfast, we waited in a private lounge, which the hotel had provided for us during our investigation, for Sandy to arrive. It was not long before he came and we were able to get down to business.

  “Well, Bigsby and James, I’m sure you both enjoyed your meal last night after the long journey. I’ve written a list of the names of all the family that I mentioned to you. My late brother’s name was Alistair and his wife is Lucy. I’ve asked Lucy and my son, Angus, to make themselves available at the Distillery office for all of today. The local garage will also be bringing a car for you to use for the duration of the investigation. You, of course, will be responsible for the cost of the petrol.”

  Bigsby again was the first to speak. “The hotel manager informed us that he has it on record that you’ll now be paying our full hotel accommodation, including the food and drink. We thank you so much for this kind gesture and we’ll leave no stone unturned in finding the murderer of Alistair. The meal last night was one of the finest we’ve been privileged to partake of and we’ll be recommending this hotel to our friends.”

  Sandy’s face had turned bright pink and his words came spluttering out. “I agreed to no such ……..!”

  I quickly interrupted. “We do appreciate your kindness, Sandy, and thanks also for the two bottles of Glenrowan single malt whisky which was sent up to our rooms. We’re hoping to have the pleasure of sampling them this evening.”

  Sandy’s face was now quite red with annoyance but he stayed silent.

  “Well I think that’s all the information we need at the moment, Sandy, so we’ll start on our way to interrogate Lucy,” said Bigsby.

  We went outside to find an Austin Seven waiting for us. Bigsby had suggested that Sandy was so mean that he may have hired two bicycles for our transport. It was only a ten minute drive along a quiet country road to the Glenrowan Distillery. The Victorian building looked in need of much care and attention. Some of the guttering had fallen away, windows were cracked and much of the paintwork on the doors had peeled off.

  When we arrived, Sandy showed us into the office where Lucy was waiting and she introduced herself to us. She was a medium-built, pleasant looking and attractive lady who spoke with a refined Scottish accent. No wonder Alistair was smitten when he first met her.

  “Good morning, Lucy, and we’re very sorry to trouble you so soon after the loss of your husband. I’ve been told you’re a renowned millinery designer for the upper class,” I said.

  “That’s correct, James. Until I married Alistair about three years ago, I was well known only in Scotland but now I’ve clients from the whole of the United Kingdom. I’m kept very busy but I fully enjoy my work.”

  “How did you meet Alistair and how long had you known him before you were married, Lucy?”

  “We met at an international craft fair in Edinburgh, James. I was promoting my millinery and Alistair was displaying his single malt whisky to try to gain further export orders. It was love at first sight. After four weeks, Alistair proposed to me and we married two months later.

  “I was thirty-five and Alistair was forty-two and we’ve now known each other for four years. Even though I only lived six miles from the Glenrowan distillery I’d no knowledge of the family.”

  “Could you please tell us more about your life together as regards your leisure time and work commitments? Also, do you think Alistair was murdered?”

  “For the first two years of our marriage we had many happy days hiking and camping in the hills. Alistair, apart from the occasional off-day, was an adventurous and wonderful man who I loved so much. It’s impossible to put into words how much I miss him. They were, by far, the happiest years of my life. During the past year, Alistair, though, became more and more remote and, seemingly, preoccupied with his thoughts.

  “I’m sure it upset him when Sandy decided to take this silly Clan Chief responsibility seriously and handed him the business reigns. Alistair easily buckles under pressure. He feels he’s a martyr to duty and takes on too many work commitments.

  “He told me the pressure he was under was immense. He often arrived home from his responsibilities at the distillery after ten o’clock at night. The distillery, though, appeared to be prospering with sales increasing rapidly.

  “I told Alistair many times how worried I was about him. He said this was only a temporary measure and that we’d soon be back trekking in the hills. Up to this time he’d always been a happy-go-lucky person and so much fun to be with. Given his extreme personality change over the last year especially, I’ve no reason to doubt the findings of the police. I still expect, though, to hear that cheery booming voice of his.”

  “Did you know any of Sandy’s children and why there’s been recent unrest within the company, Lucy?”

  “I met Angus the most often as he was close to Alistair. The family regarded him as the most able of the children with very acute business sense. I know him as a very polite and compassionate young man. According to my late husband, the daughter, Siobhan, was also well-mannered but easily led astray. Although an extremely capable and very friendly young lady, she’d little appetite for hard work and long hours. I’ve heard no mention of unrest at the distillery.”

  “Have you been married before, Lucy?”

  “No, I’ve not. I was friendly with someone before I met Alistair but nothing came of it.”

  I thanked her for her time and told her we’d be seeing the police very shortly to get their verdict of events. We then decided to take an hour’s break for a little light refreshment and to discuss the information Lucy had provided us with before questioning Angus.

  After this, we’d visit the local detective superintendent.

  “What do you make of Lucy, Bigsby?”

  “You know how the saying goes, James, ‘Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he’s in love with her’. Is not this correct?”

  “There is another saying, my Lord, ‘A woman may be misinformed, mislead, unclear, misguided and even downright stupid but she is never ever wrong’. I wonder if any of these sayings apply to Lucy.”

  Angus was in the office when we returned to the Distillery. He was tall and slender and appeared to have a polite, pleasant personality. Bigsby introduced us and told Angus that I’d be doing the questioning.

  “Well, Angus, could you please tell us about your relationship
with your uncle and if you know of anyone who’d want to murder him, if that was the case?”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help, Field Marshal James. I don’t know why but I was always much closer to Uncle Alistair than my father. When I was a child he told me many stories about the old battles that took place in Scotland. My favourite was the Battle of Culloden and the life of Bonnie Prince Charlie. It was the way he told them that fascinated me. I could picture all the action in my mind’s eye. I looked upon him as my best friend and confidant. He was a very friendly, laid-back person with a happy thunderous voice. He did have odd days of depression.

  “Since he took charge of the business those days increased but I think this was due to the pressure of work. During the last year of his life, he really changed. He was gradually getting more and more depressed with often a far-away, blank expression on his face. I often asked him why but he refused to say. This didn’t seem business-related and I was getting really worried about him. He was the one––along with myself––who kept the business afloat. Latterly, we were both in the office until late at night. We were determined in our desire to make the distillery successful. My father, along with my mother, spent their time, amongst other things, with duties associated with the Clan Chief.”

  “Was there any disagreement between yourself and your uncle about the way the Glenrowan Distillery should be run and the way forward for the future, Angus?”

  “Certainly not, James. I gained a master’s degree in accountancy and business studies from St Andrew’s University so I know a little about how a business should be run. It’s most important for me that the tradition of the distillery be upheld and only the finest of single malt whisky should be distilled here.

  “My ambition is to continue to improve the quality and variety of whisky and seek new markets, especially from Asia, and to bring the distillery buildings back to their former glory. If it hadn’t been for the hard work of Uncle Alistair and myself, the Glenrowan Distillery would no longer be in existence.”

  “Who helps you run the office side of the business, Angus?”

  “Millie, our secretary, knows the business inside out and she’s a great help. The business was losing money but under myself and Uncle Alistair it’s now beginning to thrive. I’m so grateful to you both for agreeing to investigate my uncle’s death.”

  “I hear you’ve a master distiller and a master cooper working at the distillery.”

  “The master distiller is still here as also is the master cooper. They’re indispensable with the knowledge they have of their crafts. They’re regarded as the best in the country.”

  “Was there any animosity, Angus, between yourself and your father when you asked him to step away from the business?”

  “Why? Has father told you there was? None at all was intended. We were afraid that father would not be in full agreement with everything we’d planned. He was very traditional in his methods. We needed a fresh approach.”

  “He said he was very upset about the way he was told his advice was no longer welcome.”

  “Oh dear. I’m so sorry about that. I’ll go and see my parents straight away and explain. There has never been any ill-feeling within our family. A happy family life means so much to us all. It must have been the way I put it into words. I was under so much pressure as I was working long hours and also worrying about Uncle Alistair. I’ll promise to keep them better informed of progress in the future.”

  “That’s very good, Angus, and I’m sure it’ll clear the air.”

  I thanked Angus for his help. It was now time to return to our hotel for a well-earned lunch.

  There was an excellent lunch menu displayed in the hall so we took it into the lounge where we ordered a bottle of Chablis while we scrutinized the offerings. We both decided on oysters for starters and a salmon dish for the main meal. As we stood up to go to the dining room, Bigsby panicked. A horrible noise emanated from inside the dining room.

  “James, emergency! Press the fire alarm! Outside, quick!”

  “Steady on, Bigsby,” I said. “What you hear are the bagpipes playing us into lunch. When the Scots went to war they’d send the piper on the battlefield first, playing his pipes. This is why they won so many battles as the enemy took fright and ran. It’s still customary for a Scottish regiment to be accompanied by a piper wearing a kilt.”

  “I’m not surprised, James, as it gave me a nasty fright. I’m still trembling.”

  “Do you know why pipers are always walking when they play the bagpipes, Bigsby? It’s to try to get away from the noise! Ha! Ha!”

  “Time to calm down and enjoy our meal, James. I’m especially looking forward to the oysters.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  After Sandy left, we arranged our travel to Scotland for the following day and then discussed between us what he’d told us. As usual, Bigsby asked me how I thought we should approach the investigation.

  “Well, my dear Bigsby, I’ll leave you with the task of persuading Sandy to give us a conducted tour of the distillery and in getting as many free samples as you can.

  “As regards the case, I’m sure the most important thing for us to do is to confirm if the death of Sandy’s brother was murder or otherwise. For this purpose it’ll be necessary for us to speak with the police. After we’ve established the cause of death, then I’d suggest that we interview his wife. She’s the person most connected with him and the one who discovered the body.

  “Sandy, himself, had little input in the business latterly. It’s possible that he was totally unaware of any unrest within his own family. Was the honour of being Clan Chief more important to him than being Chairman of the Glenrowan Distillery? There’s much to consider.”

  “I totally agree with you, James, as there appears to be a lot of happenings which seem altogether unrelated, but we’ll see. My main thought at the moment is if I’ll acquire a taste for single malt whisky. I sincerely hope that I do.”

  The following day we set off for Scotland and the start of our second case as private detectives. It would be nearly two days before we reached our destination. We travelled with the London and North Eastern Railway from King’s Cross Station in London. With great excitement, we boarded the Flying Scotsman which only a few months previously had begun its non-stop service from London to Edinburgh. In its apple-green livery it looked stunning.

  The views, especially from York to Edinburgh Waverley Street Station, were excellent as we travelled over the North York moors before following the coast at Berwick-upon-Tweed.

  The heather clad moors are home to the grouse, skylark and snipe. Rare species of merlin and golden plover make this their habitat. With food aplenty in the shape of insects, moths and butterflies, the populations of bird species here were thriving.

  It’s also ideal ground for Britain’s only poisonous snake––the adder––which feeds on numerous mice, voles, shrews and lizards. On the dales lies the largest Iron Age hill-fort in Northern England––an area of great archeological interest which I’d love to explore further.

  The Cheviot Hills then came into view which straddle the border of England and Scotland. At Berwick-upon-Tweed, we followed the beautiful coastline before reaching our destination.

  It was late when we arrived in Edinburgh so we stayed the night at a small hotel near the station. I’ll not say how Bigsby described the food. After a few spoonfuls of virtually inedible soup, we retired to bed. We decided not to risk breakfast.

  We’d no time to explore the delights of Edinburgh. Before we went back to London we’d surely have to make time to visit Edinburgh Castle. Anything historical held a special interest for me. Here there had been a royal residence on the Castle Rock since the reign of David I in the twelfth century.

  I’ve always been enchanted by the story of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye Terrier who, after his master died, guarded his grave in Greyfriars Kirkyard for fourteen years. To see the dog’s statue atop a drinking fountain near the churchyard would be a thrill fo
r me.

  We now headed to Waverley Street Station to board the train to Perth and then on to Grantown. A wonderful journey where the scenery became even better as we approached Pitlochry.

  “Did you learn anything about Scotland in your Cambridge days, James? I was told never to go as it was a bleak place which was always wet and windy. I’ve to say I’m very impressed with Scotland so far.”

  “Pitlochry’s mainly an old Victorian town, Bigsby, which lies on the banks of the River Tummel. Those two splendid mountains over there which surround it are Ben Vrackie and Schiehallion.

  “I know Robert Louis Stevenson was a guest at the Fishers Hotel in 1881. Only half a mile from here at Kinnaird Cottage in Moulin, he wrote Thrawn Janet and worked on two of his other books––The Merry Men and The Body Snatcher.”

  The train then took us through the Cairngorm district––a wild, rugged and spectacular place. Red deer stags were roaming the hills, buzzards and kestrels hovered overhead with the occasional grouse to be seen on the lower ground. Being September, the hills were awash with mauve from the heather.

  The hotel that Sandy had booked for us, Spey Lodge, was only two miles from Grantown. All the reviews about it that we found maintained it was the best in Britain with exceptional gourmet meals and a superbly stocked bar.

  “Did you know, Bigsby, that Grantown was established in 1765 by Sir James Grant on open countryside near the River Spey. It soon became a prosperous town by attracting rural industries and merchants. Obviously named after its founder. The name was extended to Grantown-on-Spey in 1898.”

  “Just showing off are we, James? What useless information you Cambridge educated lot store in your heads with no practical knowledge at all.”

  Finally, we arrived at our destination where we were met by Sandy to drive us to our hotel. The hotel looked fantastic. It had been an old Victorian shooting lodge and was set in its own grounds with superb views. The grounds sloped down to the River Spey where the hotel owned the fishing rights for a one mile stretch. It would be a challenge to catch a salmon but we would try. We hoped we would be allowed one day out on the hills to stalk the stags. Venison was one meat that neither of us had partaken of so we were very keen to try it.