A Dead Herring by Helen Golden — Celticlady's Reviews
Intro
Lady Beatrice and her business partner Perry Juke are at Drew Castle, the private Scottish estate of Lady Beatrice’s uncle, King James, to manage the redesign and refurbishment of several family suites. At the same time, Lady Beatrice’s brother Lord Frederick Astley is hosting a shooting party with guests who include the well-known brothers, Max and Ben Rhodes. Ben Rhodes has recently purchased a London football club in a controversial deal, much to the disgust of the fans who fear he will destroy the club. He’s been receiving death threats and has had to hire his own security for this protection. Fred is telling Bea, Perry and Simon (Perry’s other half) about his guests over breakfast…
“So who do you have coming to stay besides the famous Rhodes twins?” Simon asked Fred when they finished their food.
“A couple of contacts of mine through work and a local family called the McLeans. They live about twenty-five miles away.”
“McLean as in McLean and Co?” Perry asked as he peeled a satsuma.
“Yes, do you know them?” Fred took a sip of his coffee.
“No. But I know about them. They make the most exquisite cashmere scarves.” He turned to Simon. “I bought you one for Christmas. The black one with a fine red line through it.”
Simon nodded, then looked away. Bea suppressed a grin. Wasn’t that the one he’d lent to her son Sam to wrap up an injured kestrel they’d found while on a walk with Daisy a few weeks ago? I wonder what happened to it? She thought it wise not to ask Simon in front of Perry. She was sure it had been beyond saving by the time Sam had finished with it.
“Yes. They do many textiles, including tartan. Hector McLean semi-retired a few years ago so he and his wife could go travelling, but unfortunately, she died last year. His son Fergus and his son-in-law Ed run it on a day-to-day basis now.” Fred put down his coffee cup and looked out of the window. “I hope it stays dry like this for the next few days. There’s a threat of snow but not until mid-week.”
“I haven’t seen Hector McLean for years. I didn’t realise his wife had died. What happened?” Bea took a sip of her coffee.
“Apparently, she disappeared one afternoon. When Hector got back from a business meeting and she wasn’t there, he raised the alarm. The police found her body the next morning washed up on the banks of the river in the next village. Seems like she fell into the water somewhere near their estate and drowned.”
Bea raised her hand to her chest. “That’s awful, Fred. I don’t remember anyone mentioning it.”
“I think the family kept it quiet. She’d had a few drinks at lunchtime, so…”
She nodded. She recalled the last time she’d seen Fergus McLean at a drinks party hosted by her cousin, Lady Caroline Clifford, at Kensington Court. He’d made some jokey comment about his mother being a drinker. “Anyway, the McLeans are experienced shots. They won’t mind a bit of snow, will they?” she asked.
Fred shook his head. “It’s not the McLeans I’m concerned about. Hector’s daughter Rose isn’t shooting, and Hector, Fergus, and Ed are all excellent marksmen. It’s the Rhodes twins I’m thinking about. I hear Max is an accurate shot with clays, but birds are very different. And Ben is inexperienced. It will be easier for them if it’s clear. Rain and snow make it hard to pick the birds out against the sky.”
Perry, finishing his last segment of orange, picked up his coffee cup. “So are you worried about having Ben Rhodes here? If the papers are anything to go by, the man has a target on his back after his purchase of the football club.”
Perry, like Bea, wasn’t a big sports fan, but they both tolerated it for Simon’s and her son’s sakes. Many a winters weekend when Sam had been home from boarding school, Simon and Perry had walked the short distance to Francis Court on a Sunday afternoon and joined them on the second floor. While Sam had taken Simon off to watch F1 racing or an international rugby game on the sixty-inch television in the room opposite her apartment that he’d now turned into a games room, she and Perry had flicked through home interior magazines and shared their favourite looks.
Fred sighed, rubbing his stubbled chin with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s a real pain, to be honest. I originally only invited Max. It was him who asked if Ben could come too. He’d thought it would be good for his brother to be here, in a remote area, to get away from the hounding he’s been experiencing. I could hardly say no, could I? At least he’s bringing his own security, so it won’t fall onto our guys here to keep an eye on him.”
A man cleared his throat, and they started. “Excuse me, my lord, but I have it on good authority a car is coming up the drive. I suspect it may be some of your guests?” The clean-shaven grey-haired man gave a curt bow and stood to one side.
“Thank you, Brock. I’ll be there shortly.”
The butler nodded and glided out of the room.
Fred looked at his watch and rose. “They’re a bit early, but I’d better greet them. I’ll catch you all later.”
“See you later,” Bea responded as he left the table.
“How does he do that?” Perry asked, a frown creasing his smooth forehead.
“Who? Do what?” she asked.
“That butler chap. I didn’t see him there. It’s like he appeared by magic.”
Bea smiled. “It’s part of their stealth training.”
Perry tilted his head to one side as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not.
“A butler would make an expert killer, you know, Simon,” Bea said.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Simon said, getting up, a grin on his face. “I’ll work until about four,” he said to Perry. “If it suits you two?”
They nodded, and he left.
“Well, I suppose we’d better get on,” Bea said as she rose from the table.
Perry jumped up. “Okay, just let me grab something for an afternoon snack,” he said as he headed towards the overflowing fruit bowl resting on the end of the table.
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