Free The Scottish Play Murder by Anne Rutherford Page A

It was so unlucky Arturo hadn’t been there the night of the murder, for he would surely have been able to tell her the name of the culprit, without room for doubt. As it was, she was reluctant to jump to the same conclusion Arturo had, that Ramsay had killed the pirate just because he’d threatened to.
    However, she never found him. Instead, on arrival she was accosted by Piers and Daniel in the green room. Having glanced around the room for Arturo, when she turned to make her way out she found they’d followed her in. “Mother,” said Piers, “we need a word with you, please.”
    Daniel stood behind Piers, and nodded. She said, “Daniel. I didn’t see your carriage out front.”
    “That would be because it isn’t out front. My driver expects to return when tonight’s performance starts at three o’clock. Last time I was here it took some damage from boys throwing rocks. Far safer to have my driver remove it than to allow the neighborhood boys to have at it as they please.”
    And far safer than letting his carriage be seen in front of Suzanne’s home too often or for too long.
    Odd to see father and son in the same room, and even more strange that they were plainly in agreement over something. More often than not they were at odds, sniping at each other or complaining to her about each other. But today Suzanne found herself facing a unified front, made even more unified by the close resemblance between the two. Like bookends, one merely grayer than the other. She replied, “Of course, Piers. What seems to be the matter?”
    “It’s that Ramsay fellow.”
    “Yes, I understand you dislike him.”
    “Nobody likes him.”
    “I doubt that, but you think he’s a murderer.”
    Piers blinked, and only then did Suzanne remember that the only complaint he had against Ramsay was that the Scot appeared a “weasel.” Even Daniel only suspected Ramsay of swindling jewels from Scottish nobility. Until now they hadn’t known Arturo thought he’d killed the Spanish pirate. “A murderer, you say?”
    “Arturo thinks so. Ramsay had a fight with the Spanish pirate, and threatened his life the night before the man was killed.”
    Daniel stepped forward, asserting his authority as earl and a former King’s Cavalier. “Suzanne, you must send him away at the very least. Or have him arrested. Yes, I believe arresting him would be far better. Then you would have the gratitude of Scottish nobility.”
    Suzanne peered at him, wondering whether he really thought this stern approach would move her to obey. They’d been apart for many years, but surely he knew her better than that. Bitter sarcasm rose. “Well, that should be worth quite a lot to a former tart living in Southwark, particularly since my only connection to any sort of nobility wishes to deny that connection, and God forbid anyone should ever notice the resemblance between you and Piers.”
    Daniel and Piers shot each other glances as if they’d both just realized they looked like each other, then returned their attention to her.
    Suzanne seated herself in a chair next to a table laden with pots of paint, scatterings of crayons and pins, and boxes of powder. Some ostrich and peacock feathers lay about, wafting in the air with her movement. “In any case, how would I arrest him?” she said. “Unlike yourself I have very little authority or influence to detain anyone, particularly a man. And most particularly a man who is larger than myself. I would need support in that. Ordering people about has never been a terribly successful tactic for me.”
    “Very well, then, I’ll have him arrested.”
    “You certainly will not, Daniel. You will never mind Ramsay, and keep away from him until I tell Pepper I want him arrested. Which may not happen, because in fact I hope to prove him innocent of the crime. The troupe needs him for
Mac . . .
the Scottish play.” She glanced at the ceiling, for a moment unsure whether it might collapse at her utterance, then shook the