Free Rose McQuinn 7 - Deadly Legacy by Alanna Knight Page B

on my earlier visit but this time she received my question regarding Mr Lawers with considerable tact, and her face told me the worst.
    Mr Lawers had not perished in the fire but from a heart attack shortly afterwards. The matter of his funeral and so forth was being dealt with by his solicitors in Glasgow but an enquiry brought forth the curt reply that such information was only available to members of the family, with proof of their identity.
    To pursue the matter further seemed utterly hopeless. By his own admission he had no family; with his passing the Lawers were extinct, and as if fate had stepped in, my mission had been decided and the future of Mrs Lawers' package rested, however reluctantly, in my hands.
    Such were my thoughts as I walked through the grounds towards the orphanage hoping to see the lady, Mrs Bourne, who had taken Meg into her custody.
    The orphanage, originally the stable block, proclaimed its presence by a handsome signboard invisible from the convalescent home.
    The reception area was clean and cheerful, its desk occupied by a woman with a welcoming smile.
    'Mrs Bourne? She is not here at present. Can I help you?'
    I explained my business with Meg Macmerry and she sighed. 'Such a pity, madam, you are too late. Mrs Bourne has taken that little girl to Edinburgh to present her to interested new foster-parents. Here you are ...' Pausing to scribble an address, she added, 'How unfortunate, you have just missed them. They left for the train half an hour ago.'
    I left feeling the bitter irony of it all. Had I come first to Lochandor to interview John Lawers, Meg at that time would still have been here. And it was a frustrating thought that we might have passed by each other on the road.
    * * *
    As I made my way to the station halt, I felt the tide of affairs was running against me, already more complex than many of the cases in my logbook. My main concern was how I was going to explain all this to Jack. At least having Meg in Edinburgh was a consolation of sorts. There was only one other prospective passenger waiting on the short platform, a girl carrying a shawled bundle. As I approached, I saw that the shawl contained a tiny newborn baby. The girl looked pale and tearful and pointed to the printed timetable in a glass frame.
    'I have been waiting here for almost half an hour with no sign of a train,' she wailed, looking up and down the railway line.
    All was silent, then a rumble of wheels announced not a train but a carriage coming down the road, heading in the direction of the convalescent home, with a heavily veiled passenger inside.
    The driver signalled to us. 'No train, ladies - I'll be back shortly.'
    I smiled at the girl. She merely looked frantic, and wiping away a tear, moved a little distance away, my words of consolation lost on her. A few minutes later, we were both relieved to see the carriage reappear. We went over. What had happened to the train?
    'There's been an accident, ladies. A tree down and a landslide back up the line. There won't be another train to Edinburgh today.'
    He looked at us both. 'You had better find somewhere to stay for the night. I dare say the line will be clear and the trains running as usual in the morning.'
    'Is there a hostelry nearby?' the girl asked. She had a pleasant voice, the kind used to giving orders to servants and lesser mortals.
    'No, but a little way down the road there's a public house and you should get a room there. Jump in and I'll take you.'
    We sat in silence, the girl holding the sleeping babe close, occasionally wiping away tears.
    'I'm sure it will be all right,' I said, words I hoped would alleviate her obvious distress. She said nothing, just shook her head and wept again. I gave up and that was the end of any communication until we reached a single street of half a dozen dingy-looking cottages, with a small shop and a public house, dark and dreary. No doubt it cheered up a bit at opening times.
    The driver set us down, and perhaps taking