Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [20]
He kept a ladder in the stable. Pulling the back of his sweater over his head, he made a run for it, splashing through the puddles in the gravel driveway and splattering mud on his jeans.
At the near end of the stable, Donnie lay cocooned in his blanket on the trundle bed, snoring peacefully. Coals glowed in the free-standing heater, generating a pleasant warmth within the confines of the white-washed walls. Careful not to wake the boy, Rex grabbed the ladder from where it stood beside the power lawn mower, scythe, and sundry other garden utensils at the opposite end and, hoisting it onto his shoulder, trudged back through the rain.
Extending it to its full length, he propped it against the wall of the house and climbed to the bathroom window above the library. To his great relief, he found the sash window unlocked and managed to push it open with ease. As he did so, he remembered that this window had been on the McCallums’ to-do list. It had been jammed shut from hardened paint when he purchased the house. They must have unstuck it and forgotten to lock it afterward. What a pair of incompetent fools! He should have hired someone else.
The window aperture proved a tight squeeze for his stocky build, and he was only able to execute the maneuver by bumping his head and scraping his ribs on the wood frame. No window treatments had yet been installed, but no one could see in except on a ladder. He landed beside the empty bath and surveyed the water pooled over the tiled floor.
Och, don’t say we have a big leak in the ceiling! he despaired. He was beginning to think he probably should have shopped around a bit more before letting Alistair persuade him what a great investment Gleneagle Lodge would be. At the time he hadn’t known that Alistair and the solicitor were more than just friends …
He stepped across the sodden bath mat and made muddy prints to the door. As he unlocked it, he noticed a dressing gown in the form of an embroidered burgundy kaftan hanging from the brass hook. It looked like something Moira might have brought back from Baghdad. Why had she not worn it back to her room?
He examined the opened door. Helen was crossing the landing at that precise moment.
“I came to ask you what you wanted for brea—Rex! Just look at your muddy feet! What are you doing? Why is the window open? There’s a dreadful draught.”
“I had to climb in. The door was locked.”
“It looks like there was a flood in here!”
“I know. I canna understand it. The walls and ceiling are dry as far as I can see. I thought there must be a leak.”
“Perhaps the McCallums can take a look when they come to fix the radiator.” She stood in the doorway in a fluffy blue sweater and jeans, surveying the scene. “I’ll get a mop.”
“Nay, lass. You just see to breakfast. I’ll clean this mess up.”
“Would you like some eggs? I set up a buffet in the dining room.”
“Tea and a bacon sandwich would be grand. Any signs of departure yet?” he asked under his breath.
“The Allerdices and Cuthbert Farquharson are still at table. Rob Roy is making eyes at Flora, but she won’t have any of it. Her own eyes are on the bigger prize, I suppose. Her brother hasn’t come in yet. I haven’t seen Moira or Estelle either.”
“You mean to say, the Allerdices are showing no signs of leaving yet?” Rex’s face fell.
“It’s a testament to your wonderful hospitality, Rex,” Helen joked with a crooked smile that never failed to win him over. “They said the hotel cook and the waiter will have breakfast under control at Loch Lochy.”
“The guests will probably be relieved not to have that silly Shona fussing over them.”
“Well! Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning! See you downstairs.” Kissing him lightly on the cheek, Helen backed into the landing. Rex shut the bathroom window, still flummoxed about the locked door.
“Gracious! What happened in here?” Estelle asked, sliding on the wet floor in her slippers and grabbing onto the sink for support, almost