Motive for Murder (25 page)

Mevacombe lay behind us, and Tredara, and the little fishing hamlet of Port Perrin. At times, when the road plunged down to sea level, the spray hurled itself over the roof of the car and the roaring darkness deafened us. Then we would climb out of it again, into the buffetting and raging of the upper air.

‘Mike! Look out!' I cried suddenly. ‘There's someone in the middle of the road!'

He made no attempt to slow down, and the figure jumped clear just in time. Through the streaming window I saw the startled face and open mouth – and the blue peaked cap. A police car was parked at the side of the road. As we flashed past, I wondered if Mike had noticed it. I looked back, and saw it snake out on to the road and start after us.

My hands gripped the seat. Mike glanced in the rearview mirror. ‘The element of the chase!' he said, and put his foot down on the accelerator.

The old saloon was no match for the high-powered police car, but Mike's salvation lay in the fact that on the narrow, twisting road, it could not overtake us and flag us down. On the howl of the wind came a new note – the hysterical braying of a siren.

My ribs ached from holding my breath, my eyes were fixed on the light of our headlamps. Oh God, I thought, Oh God! The rock face rushed towards us, swung crazily away as Mike cornered on two wheels. For a moment, as he fought to steady the wheel, we teetered on the brink of the drop and I had a heart-stopping flash of the churning sea, hundreds of feet below.

Mike's face was alight, his eyes shining. He laughed breathlessly. ‘How about that, then, Emily? Shall we take a leaf out of Kate's book? We've nothing to lose, have we, either of us?'

I could not reply.

Ahead of us the road forked, the main branch continuing the climb to the left, the right seeming to lead only to a deserted house perched on the cliff.

‘Mike!' My hands flew to my mouth. Bearing down the left hand fork came the rushing shape of another police car. They had cut us off.

‘Well, well!' he said softly. He wrenched the wheel round and the car spun off the smooth surface on to the stones of the unmade road. In the wing mirror I saw the police cars converge and turn after us. And ahead of us, blocking the track, stood the stone house. We were trapped.

Mike's foot left the accelerator, his other jammed down on the brake. The old car shuddered, slowed. He turned to me, leant forward, and incredibly kissed me on the mouth.

‘For auld lang syne!' he said. ‘Goodbye, Emily, it was nice knowing you!'

Before I realised his intention he stretched across me, opened my door, and unceremoniously pushed me out. I fell with sickening impact on the uneven track, my left arm bent agonisingly beneath me, lying where I had fallen with my right arm protectively over my head.

There was a shriek of tyres as Mike turned, a scream from the engine as he suddenly revved up, and then, seconds later, only the wind and rain. I lay motionless, the sharp stones digging into my face, holding my breath for the terrible sound which must follow. It was scarcely audible in the noise of the elements – just a slightly louder crash down on the rocks. Then running footsteps and voices. Someone bent over me, someone else said, ‘Is she hurt?'

‘Not too badly, from the look of her, except for that arm. Mainly shock, I should think. An ambulance is on its way.'

But gentle as they were, the excruciating pain combined with the strains and stresses of the last few hours, completely engulfed me, and for the first time in my life I fainted.

* * *

I knew that I couldn't move my arm, and also that I was not in my own bed. There was a clean, antiseptic smell in the air. Hospital, I thought bleakly – probably a broken arm. I tried to close my mind to all that had happened, but it broke over me and I made a small, involuntary movement. At once there were sounds across the room. Someone stood by the bed, looking down at me. With an effort, I opened my eyes.

‘Hello, Emily,' said Matthew gently.

My eyes filled with tears of weakness. He sat down on the chair beside the bed and took my good hand. ‘Everything's all right; it's all over.'

I caught my lip between my teeth. After a moment I said unsteadily, ‘Mike?'

His hand tightened. ‘He couldn't have known a thing. Really.'

I turned my head away.

After a while I said, ‘What time is it?'

‘About eight o'clock. ‘They gave you an anaesthetic while they set your arm. How does it feel?'

‘I can't move it. Matthew, I don't want to stay here.'

‘Just for tonight,' he said soothingly. ‘I'll come for you in the morning.'

I closed my eyes. ‘Matthew – the things I said –'

‘It's all forgotten,' he assured me. I was not used to Matthew's gentleness.

‘But I – I more or less –'

‘I know, but you had good reason. You were right in your suspicions, you just picked the wrong person.'

Yes, I had picked the wrong person all along the line. Now Mike was dead and Matthew still thought I had loved him. And I was no use as a secretary, either, with only one arm. No doubt I'd be despatched home with as much speed as decency allowed. Following the thought I said abruptly,

‘Where's Sarah? I want to see her.'

‘She's at home, Emily. In bed. She doesn't know anything about this yet. You'll see her tomorrow.'

My brain felt woolly but there was something I had to tell him that couldn't wait. ‘Matthew –'

‘Yes?'

‘Derek was involved, too.'

‘All right, I'll see to it. Don't worry.'

Beyond my vision a door opened and a soft voice said, ‘Time's up, Mr Haig.'

Matthew stood up. ‘I'll be back tomorrow, Emily. They'll give you something to help you sleep. Goodnight.'

He bent down and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he had gone.

* * *

Matthew was as good as his word, and the next morning found us driving sedately back along the twisting road which held such unbearable memories. There were a lot of things I had to know, and sitting beside him, while he couldn't see my face, seemed as good a time as any to deal with them.

‘How did the police know where we were?' I began.

‘It's a long story, but you remember I had a phone call on Friday? It was from Stuart Henderson, Kate's
fiancé.
He said it was imperative that he saw me immediately, and could I go up to London straight away. I left after lunch, as you know, and caught the 3.20 train. But we ran into fog and various delays and it was after ten by the time we got there. I phoned Henderson and arranged to meet him in the morning.'

We went over a bump and I winced.

‘I'm sorry; are you all right?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

We were like strangers, I thought achingly.

‘I didn't sleep too well.' He smiled grimly. You'd given me quite a bit to think about; I began to ask myself whether Kate's death might not have been an accident after all. Why else should Henderson need to see me so urgently?'

I watched his hands on the wheel and saw them tighten.

‘I knew soon enough. He came round to the hotel just after nine, bringing a stack of papers with him. They were Kate's personal things. Understandably, he'd been putting off going through them, but the previous day he'd come across her most recent notes, for this article on Cornish country houses. Lists of dates and names, and then, in capital letters and underlined – LAURA
HAIG – NO MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE!!!
And the word
Stacey
with three question marks.'

So Mike had guessed right. ‘Did she find his birth certificate?'

‘Mike's? Yes; I don't know who registered the birth, but there was no attempt at concealment. The father's name was given as Cameron Menzies. As you can imagine, I was completely stunned. My father told me years ago Mike was illegitimate – in case a history of the family was ever undertaken – but I'd no idea about Menzies. God, I'd never have embarked on the book if I'd known.'

There was silence between us, broken only by the purr of tyres on the road. Matthew went on in a low voice, ‘Henderson said, “I know he's your cousin, but is it conceivable he could have engineered an accident to prevent it coming out?”

‘I knew Mike was proud, but I couldn't believe he'd kill Kate for no better reason than to keep his illegitimacy secret. I was about to say so, when Henderson remarked, “The man was murdered, wasn't he?”

‘Then, of course, the whole hideous thing fell into place. If Kate's story could point to Mike having already committed a murder, he'd nothing to lose – and a lot to gain – by killing her.'

He paused, glancing at me to gauge my reaction. ‘Unfortunately, though, we're no nearer solving Linda's death; the baby –'

‘It wasn't the baby,' I interrupted. ‘She started to talk about the murder, and they didn't realise she was referring to the book.'

‘Oh God!' Matthew said softly, then, with sudden sharpness, ‘So
you
might –'

‘Yes, I nearly finished up the same way, but my guardian angel made me mention the novel. Which was why we had the fire.'

‘Mike was responsible for that, too?'

I nodded.

‘Thank God I didn't know all that when I was in London. As it was, I was out of my mind with worry.'

‘About me?' I asked shakily. ‘The girl who'd just accused you of murder?'

Matthew said grimly, ‘For all I knew, you might have made a habit of it, in which case I didn't give much for your chances with Mike. How did you find out, anyway?'

I told him about the thistle, and remembering his saying Mike's name wasn't Charles, although he'd told me it was.

‘I knew it was something Scottish, but the connection never struck me. No earthly reason why it should, of course. Well, Henderson and I thrashed it out and arrived at more or less the right conclusion. He insisted that you wouldn't be in danger, because you didn't know Mike was the killer.' A smile twisted his mouth. ‘It was strange comfort, to know that you thought I was!'

I hung my head. After a moment he went on, ‘As soon as Henderson had gone, I phoned Touchstone, but you'd already left to meet Mike. Needless to say, I'd forgotten all about the Show. I didn't dare phone the farm, because I couldn't say anything with him being there. I caught the 2.30 train, but during the journey I became obsessed by the idea that by the time I got home it might be too late. So I phoned Chapelcombe Police Station from somewhere along the line. It wasn't the easiest thing to get across, I can tell you. Inspector Franklin has known Mike and me since we were boys. I'd never have tried, if it hadn't been –'

He broke off and I sat without moving. We slowed down, turned up into the Touchstone road and nosed gently through the gateway. Matthew stopped the car and sat with his hands on the wheel.

‘I phoned again as soon as I got off the train. There was a lot of panic by that time, cars out all over the place trying to head him off. When I heard you were with him –' He broke off and lit a cigarette.

‘One of the cars was near the station and they radioed it to pick me up. It was while we were tearing along that we got the news that –  it was all over. We headed straight for the hospital. I'd only just arrived when you came round. I've told the police about Derek, by the way; they're dealing with it.'

‘And – Mike?' I whispered.

‘They sent out helicopters, lifeboats, the lot, but they knew he hadn't a hope. Don't grieve too much for him, Emily. It was better that way.'

He opened the door and came round to help me out.

‘Sarah knows only that he's dead,' he warned me as he guided me up the path. ‘There's no need for her to know any more.'

As he opened the front door, Sarah herself rushed across the hall and flung herself against me in a storm of tears.

‘Careful!' Matthew said sharply.

‘It's all right.' Cautiously I knelt down, my good arm going round the shaking little body.

‘I thought you were dead too!' she sobbed. ‘They wouldn't tell me what happened. Oh Emily, you won't go away like you said, will you?'

I said with difficulty, ‘Not just yet, Sarah. Don't cry. Nothing can hurt Uncle Mike any more.'

Matthew detached her gently. ‘Come along, sweetheart, Emily's not very strong at the moment. Let's get her to a chair, shall we?'

Sarah allowed herself to be disengaged and Matthew raised me to my feet. At the back of the hall, Tammy appeared.

‘I hope you're feeling better, Miss Barton,' she said stiffly. She took Sarah's hand and the child went upstairs with her without protest.

Matthew led me into the sitting-room and I lowered myself gingerly on to the sofa. The room was filled with watery light as the sun struggled to find a way through the clouds. He poured two drinks and I took a gulp of mine. He put his own glass on the mantelpiece and stood with a foot on the fender, staring into the fire.

‘Look,' he said abruptly, ‘I appreciate that you'll want to leave here as soon as possible, and I quite understand. But – well, you heard Sarah. It's been a great shock to her. I don't want her to lose – both of you – so close together. After all, she's only just getting over Kate's death. It's made everything so insecure for her.'

He glanced at me. ‘There's something special between you two, isn't there? You asked for her in hospital, when you were barely conscious.'

‘I'm very fond of her.'

‘It's obviously mutual. I could hardly ask you to stay on my own account, but –'

I took a deep breath. ‘Why not?'

‘What?' He turned, frowning at the interruption to what was patently a prepared speech.

‘Why couldn't you ask on your own account? Don't you want me to stay?'