“That’s understandable,” Oscar said. “The press can be relentless once they find an angle to their story, and being the niece of a prominent couple is quite an enticing angle.”
“Juliette’s mam came down from Aberdeen as soon as she heard and is fair upset.” The detective shook his finger at Oscar. “Dinnae speak to her and upset her more.”
“Speaking of the press,” Oscar added, “are you going to warn the newspaper that accused Kinloch of the abductions to leave him alone?”
“They can print what they like. I cannae legally stop them.”
“You can if their accusation inflames the public, who in turn cause a disturbance, or worse, harm Kinloch.” When the detective continued walking without responding, Oscar dogged his steps. “At least remind the editor that his journalists need evidence and a convincing motive. Blaming Kinloch based on a long-dead ancestor’s zealotry is not enough.”
D.I. Smith reached the front counter where members of the public came to report crimes, or to collect friends or family members held overnight in the cells for minor offences. “Ye havenae seen this morning’s news, have ye?”
Oscar, Miss Wheeler and I exchanged looks and shook our heads.
D.I. Smith picked up a newspaper from the counter. “Seems they found a better reason tae accuse Kinloch. One I can agree is a solid motive.”
I quickly scanned the article. By the time I reached the end, I could see the detective’s point. The journalist suggested that Kinloch wanted to get rid of the two women because he owned a wool mill that had been turning a good profit until magicians set up rival businesses. His mill had been experimenting with blends of wool and cotton to produce softer, lighter textiles. The experiments had cost him a great deal over many years, with his creditors promised a substantial return when he found the right blend.
But no one could have foreseen the reemergence of magicians peddling their luxury goods. Cotton and wool magicians joined forces and within weeks had created a blend that was far superior to Kinloch’s efforts.
“I thought he made whiskey,” I said.
“That’s just a wee project on the side,” D.I. Smith said. “The mill has been in his family for generations. Now it’s worthless.”
“Are the two missing women related to his business rivals?” Miss Wheeler asked.
“No, but the journalist speculates that Kinloch is not right in the head and took the lassies tae punish all cotton and wool magicians.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think I need more evidence. If ye find some, let me ken straight away.”
A thin, worn-out woman bumped me as she clipped a youth over the head with the back of her hand then ordered him to get home where his Da would deal with him. While her loud admonishing caught the attention of the others waiting and many of the policeman, it was the man standing at the counter that interested me.
I tapped Oscar’s arm. “That’s Kinloch’s butler, Redmayne.”
Oscar followed my gaze. “What’s he doing here?”
“Shall we ask him?”
Miss Wheeler didn’t wait for Oscar’s answer. She strode up to Redmayne as he turned away from the counter after speaking to the sergeant on duty. Behind me, D.I. Smith muttered something about meddling women before joining her.
“Good morning, Redmayne,” Miss Wheeler said cheerfully. “Do you remember me from last evening?”
The butler was surprised to see her, but quickly schooled his features, so that by the time we greeted him, he’d resumed an imperiously indifferent expression. “Indeed, I do.”
“Is there a problem at Mr. Kinloch’s house?” she asked.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Miss Wheeler.”
“You can concern me with it,” D.I. Smith said.
It wasn’t the butler who answered, however. It was the sergeant behind the counter. “Mr. Redmayne here says a police presence is needed outside the Kinloch house, sir. The public and press are in the way and frightening the residents. Shall I send some men, sir?”
D.I. Smith nodded and the sergeant spoke to the constable seated at the desk behind him. The latter picked up his helmet, collected a colleague, and headed out of the station with both.
Redmayne thanked D.I. Smith, then asked him a rather curious question. “Has Blackburn been in to speak to you this morning?”
“No. Why would he? Has he remembered something relevant?”
