The Haunted Portrait

Written by William Shepard, Published on 1/22/2009, Re-published on 3/8/2010

It was one of those Gothic tragedies, I suppose -- or quite possibly a practical joke gone terribly wrong. Here in Scotland, one must be prepared for anything. Still, when Chief Inspector McIntyre assigned me to the case, fresh from my commissioning as a detective, you could say I felt a bit nervous. After all, this was my first real case.

But I am getting ahead of myself. And perhaps you are the only ones who didn’t awaken to STOP PRESS inserts in the newspapers announcing the ghastly death of Lord Auchinlech. It made a dramatic scene. Lord Auchinlech’s body was found on the second floor gallery of his residence in the south wing of Auchinlech Castle, just beyond the staircase. From the horrible look on his face, and the fact that his right hand was rolled into a tight ball over his heart, it appeared he had been frightened to death.

Above his prostrate body, the celebrated portrait of the First Earl had been turned to the wall, tied by a sash. That violated all instructions at the castle, for the legend had been for centuries that if the portrait were ever turned, the present Earl would die within a day. It had happened twice over the past four hundred years, but not since “Butcher” Cumberland had invaded this region following the English victory at Culloden during the Jacobite rising for Bonnie Prince Charlie in 1745. Cumberland’s men had learned the legend and deliberately turned the portrait. The capture of the Fourth Earl had followed within a day. From that day on, the heavy portrait had not been turned. Not until this week, that is.

There were four surviving members of the family, or three, depending upon how you count, and I interviewed them one by one, in the spacious first floor library. Teddy Auchinlech, the decedent’s only son, and a bachelor, had a severe pulmonary condition that confined him to his room on the other side of the library most of the time. I had a quiet word with his physician, Dr. Ambrose Gardener, from the village, before going to the castle. “He’s no malingerer,” Gardener said. “He got a dose of gas poisoning when his camp stove took a direct hit when he was in Afghanistan fighting the Taliban. It’s a wonder that his lungs work at all. It’ll probably never be quite right.” Teddy said that he had retired shortly after dinner, and that since meeting his cousins for the first time had been rather tiring, he had gone to bed earlier than usual.

Lucille Cameron was the Earl’s daughter, and Teddy Auchinlech’s younger sister. A widow, she had moved back into the castle when her husband passed away. She showed the most distress at the death of her father. Clearly, she had been close to him, and she blamed herself for the tragedy. “I should never have mentioned it at dinner,” she said. “Teddy and I grew up with the legend, but our cousin from Canada had never heard of it. Perhaps if I hadn’t brought the subject up, this tragedy would never have happened.”

Jonathan Ingersoll, over from Vancouver, British Columbia, was a vibrant contrast to his Scottish cousins. Now a chartered accountant, he had paid his way through accounting school at McGill University by his athletic skills, particularly boxing, where he had won a provincial middleweight championship. “No real money in it, though,” Ingersoll told me. “You end up with cauliflower ears and hearing noises that aren’t there.”

Marion Montgomery was a bluff, serious man in his 40s. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” he began. “Indiscretions that took place a century ago don’t matter. Still, it’s good to meet the family, what most would call the ‘legitimate’ side, anyway.” What Montgomery was referring to was the celebrated liaison of his great-grandmother with the Twelfth Earl, which had produced the illegitimate Montgomery side of the family, from which he was descended. This was his first visit to Castle Auchinlech in many years. He owned a small grocery store on the outskirts of Glasgow, three hours (and an entire world away) from the castle.

Chief Inspector McIntyre and Robbie Kent, his local constable, met me for tea at The Unicorn Tea Shop and heard what I had to say, Kent occasionally taking notes. “Family background is what I need,” I said. “It will give me a better context for what I find at Auchinlech Castle. So far each person has a mask on, and it’s difficult to penetrate the case without knowing more about the suspects.”

Chief Inspector McIntyre nodded, and Robbie Kent filled me in on what was known. The late Earl was well respected, but an absolute stickler for family and tradition. He could, for example, have arranged or urged a different inheritance for the family property, but was absolutely insistent that only a male heir would inherit -- not only the title, as custom dictated -- but all of the property along with it. At the same time, he was rather stringent about money. Teddy had been something of a spendthrift in his younger days, “As often happens,” Chief McIntyre interjected, “when the family purse strings are held too tight.” It seemed that Teddy had joined the Army to escape his increasing debts. Wounded in action, he was now something of a prisoner in his own rooms, the first at Castle Auchinlech in centuries.

They knew much less about Montgomery and Ingersoll, although Robbie Kent had found out a few things from Gordon, the family butler. It seemed that Ingersoll had written the late Earl a few months earlier, pointing out the family connection. It had amused Lord Auchinlech to meet him in person. Ingersoll was invited to spend the holiday at Castle Auchinlech, and he had been given a rarely used guest suite on the third floor.

Montgomery had visited the castle just once, as a curious tourist several years ago, during one of the public tours that the Earl permitted, to help meet the castle’s heavy running expenses. The Montgomery family connection was well known at the castle, and Marion had not been difficult to locate when the late Earl had decided to invite him as well for the holiday dinner. As a grocer, though, he was a social step below his Canadian accountant cousin, and was not invited to stay at Castle Auchinlech. He had stayed in town, eight miles from the castle. He was on the point of returning to Glasgow when Chief McIntyre told him about the Earl’s death, and directed him to return to the castle.

With this new information in mind, I returned to the castle and reinterviewed the family and staff. The festive holiday dinner had not gone well. The late Earl himself was in a bitter mood, ungracious towards his guests. He had been set off when his daughter mentioned the family legend. Curious, Ingersoll asked for more details, apparently not realizing that it was a topic never to be discussed. Montgomery, intrigued, joined in, and both men were then subjected to a withering, caustic blast from their host, who promptly left the table and stormed upstairs.

After dinner, Gordon served coffee and some much needed brandy before a roaring fire in the library to Ingersoll, Montgomery, Teddy Auchinlech and his sister. Teddy attempted to remedy the situation by telling the story of the picture to his guests. “Anyway, now you know why the old man was so upset. The legend does, of course, foretell his death in case the picture was turned. He was bound to be upset about that!” They had nodded in agreement, and drifted off to bed. Teddy Auchinlech gave a shrugged apology to the guests. Montgomery drove back to his hotel.

I asked whether anyone had gotten up during the night. Only Lucille Cameron had done so. Her room was on the second floor, along the corridor from the portrait gallery. She had heard a noise, as of someone straining to lift a heavy object. When she came out of her room, candle in hand, she was just aware of someone stepping quickly down the stairs. She went forward and discovered her father, whose sash had been cut. The next morning Gordon discovered both the late Earl and his unconscious daughter. Gordon added that he had heard nothing further that night, from his basement quarters near the entrance to the castle. I nodded privately to Chief Inspector McIntyre. “Whether it was deliberate murder or not, Chief Inspector, will be for the Public Prosecutor to determine. But I can tell you right now who turned the portrait of the First Earl, and was responsible for Lord Auchinlech’s death.”