Murder on the Moor - C. S. Challinor [43]
“Aye, it’s still monopolizing the news.”
“Not the sort of story you’d want to cover, I suppose?”
“Och, I prefer to stick to nature subjects. The editor at the Inverness News-Press is really interested in my article on Lizzie. It’s a huge regional paper and would be a stepping stone to the nationals. I just need one or two good photographs.”
“Shona said you had a sighting yesterday.”
“Aye, I saw Lizzie all right, but she wouldna surface. These creatures have a sixth sense. That’s why it’s usually fishermen who catch a glimpse of them. They’ll be sitting quietly in their boats with their lines baited when suddenly the sea monster appears out of the blue. If I could prove the existence of Cousin Bessie in Loch Lown, it would make headline news.”
“I assure you, nothing like that exists here.”
“But you said you hadn’t plumbed the depths. Some of the lochs are hundreds and hundreds of feet deep.”
“If I do spot her, Rob Roy, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, this is private property and I don’t want any nosy thrill-seekers trespassing on my land.”
“Understood.”
“Of course, Loch Lochy is a different matter. Mr. and Mrs. Allerdice would welcome the publicity. How long do you intend on staying there?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but I’m that close to getting a photo.” The journalist indicated about an inch between his thumb and forefinger. “Just one good shot and I’ll have it wrapped up.”
“Have you ever visited Loch Lochy before?” Rex asked.
“Never. My interest in plesiosaurs is fairly recent. Too much has been done on the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Aye, it’s been going on a long time. I’m surprised Nessie is still alive.”
“They live as long as elephants.”
“Is that so?” Rex scooted his chair back from the table and crossed his legs. “Might there be another reason you wish to prolong your stay at the hotel?”
Rob Roy regarded him darkly behind his clear lenses.
“Flora?” Rex suggested with an innocent smile. “Are ye not just a wee bit sweet on the lass?”
The journalist relaxed in his chair. “Oh, I see. I thought maybe you were under the impression I was freeloading off the Allerdices and, well, I resented the, ah, implication.”
“Och, noo,” Rex emphatically replied. “They are indebted to your interest in their loch.”
Beardsley smiled tightly. Rex could tell the journalist was not sure if he was being sarcastic or not. He couldn’t see what was going on with Beardsley’s hands behind the table, but guessed the fingers were wriggling with impatience.
“And it is such a pretty spot. Where did you say you were from again?”
“Brora, originally.”
“That’s north of Inverness, isn’t it?”
“Look,” Rob Roy cut in. “I promised Flora I’d go after Donnie. He’s always wandering off somewhere and causing her to fret.”
“Aye, of course. Thank you for your time. I’d like to speak to the lad as well.”
After the journalist left, Rex went to find Helen and located her upstairs putting clean towels in the guest bathroom.
“I suppose we might as well use this bathroom,” she said.
“Might as well,” Rex agreed. “I should have left it in the state I found it so the police could take a look, but I didn’t know then that Moira was missing, and the water was seeping through to the library ceiling.” That would have been around the time Moira drowned in the bath. “So much for preservation of the scene and non-contamination of evidence,” he added ruefully.
“It’s not as if you found any blood or anything,” Helen consoled him.
“There’s some chipped paint on the window ledge, but that could be from when I crawled through. I may have wiped footprints other than mine off the floor as well. Has Cuthbert returned yet?”
“No, but Estelle doesn’t seem too concerned. She’s taking a nap in her room. The Allerdice family minus Donnie is playing cards in the living room. I made them some cocoa and banked up the fire. Alistair is in the library watching the news.”
“I shall take a walk around the property, see if I can’t find Cuthbert and the boy. I’d like to have a word with each of them.”
“Don’t go far,” Helen begged. “I don’t know which of