Next Door to Murder (24 page)

She and Jonathan left together shortly afterwards. Dominic watched them go, wondering if they were bound for her conveni-ently close flat. He also thought, sourly, of Carol Hurst, a thoroughly nice and uncomplicated woman, and tried to think harshly of Lindsey. Instead, he succeeded only in envying her companion.

‘Have you seen Louise?' Max asked the next morning, hanging Gus's lead on its hook.

‘No, why?'

‘I noticed their front door was ajar, and thought she might have popped round.'

‘Actually, I'm surprised she's not been in touch. I'll give her a ring tomorrow.' She glanced at him. ‘It's time we were leaving. Are you ready?'

‘Just about. Is Lindsey going?'

‘I don't know; she was out when Mum rang, so she left a message. She'd have been at the Yarboroughs', of course.'

‘Rather her than me,' Max replied. ‘What about Gus?'

‘I think we can risk it; Mum's much more amenable these days.'

‘How did the party go?' Rona asked her sister later, as they sat over drinks. Avril had taken Max to look at the black spot on her roses – a pointless exercise, in Rona's opinion. Gardening was not her husband's forté.

‘Actually, it was an
embarrass de richesse
,' Lindsey replied ruefully. ‘Both Jonathan and Dominic were there.'

‘Whoops!'

‘Whoops indeed.'

‘Who came out the winner?'

‘Jonathan, of course. I told you I'd written Dominic off.'

‘Is he aware of that?'

‘If he wasn't, he should be by now.' She paused. ‘He said he'd met you and Felicity, so I told him you'd been up to see the Roxfords.'

‘Oh Linz, you didn't!'

‘I wanted to see what he'd say.'

‘And what did he?'

Lindsey kicked at the grass at her feet. ‘That he'd had lunch with “Rupert” the other day. So it seems Lady M is still present tense.'

Rona glanced at her face, decided against a direct comment, and asked instead, ‘And Jonathan?'

‘Escorted me home.'

‘As far as the door?' Rona enquired, with innocently raised brow.

‘What do you think? It was too good a chance to miss.'

And one in the eye for Dominic, Rona suspected. Feeling it was wiser not to pursue the subject, she asked, ‘How was Adele?'

‘Exactly the same, even down to the long sleeves.'

Rona pulled a face. ‘Better not tell Max that. Seriously, though, she looked OK?'

‘Fine – the perfect hostess. I doubt if she had any hand in the food, though; much too professional.'

‘Probably Waitrose!' Rona said with a laugh.

It was a pleasant, salady lunch, less formal than Avril's Sunday repasts, and they all relaxed, glad of a respite from their various preoccupations. The previous night's thunder had cleared the air, and it felt fresher than it had for weeks. Lindsey told her mother about the singles holiday she'd booked.

‘What a coincidence!' Avril exclaimed. ‘I was considering that myself, but I wasn't brave enough.'

‘Then why not book the same one?' Lindsey suggested, and her mother's face lit up.

‘You wouldn't mind?'

‘Not as long as you promise not to cramp my style!'

Avril laughed. ‘And the same goes for me!'

They left at six o'clock.

‘That was good of Lindsey, to suggest your mother join her on holiday,' Max said.

‘Yes. It obviously meant a lot to Mum.' Rona felt a glow of pleasure. It wasn't often that Max found anything to admire in her sister.

They garaged the car and walked slowly home, Gus trotting contentedly beside them. Next week, Rona was thinking, she'd probably finish her article on the Willows. Then she'd have to think of another project.

Beside her, Max came to a sudden halt. ‘That's odd,' he said.

Rona glanced at him. ‘What is?'

He nodded up the path of the Franks' house. ‘The door's still open.'

After a moment, Rona said uncertainly, ‘They can't have noticed.'

‘But they must have; it's been over six hours.'

They hesitated, looking at each other.

‘Ought we to check everything's all right?' Rona asked reluctantly.

‘It wouldn't do any harm. Stay there while I let Gus in.'

Rona waited while he opened their own front door and nudged the dog inside. Then, as he rejoined her, they went in silence up the path of number seventeen.

Thirteen

‘R
ing the bell,' Rona said.

Max did so, and they could hear it echoing through the house. They waited a minute or two, but no one came.

‘Perhaps someone broke in while they were out,' Rona suggested.

‘Possibly.' Max pushed open the door, stepped inside, and called, ‘Hello? Anybody home?'

There was no reply. He turned and looked at her. ‘Now what do we do? Phone the police?'

‘They could be in the garden.'

‘So how do we check?'

‘Access is from the kitchen, like at home.'

Max hesitated. ‘I don't like just walking into someone's house.'

‘Well, if it was the other way round, I'd be glad if someone checked on
our
open door.'

‘OK. You lead the way, then.'

They called once more, and when there was still no response, Rona started down the basement stairs. At the entrance to the kitchen, she stopped abruptly and Max cannoned into her.

‘What is it?'

‘Someone's in here,' Rona said in a whisper. ‘Mr Franks.'

‘He
must
have heard us.' Max raised his voice, directing it at the figure seated at the table. Rona saw, to her bewilderment, that he was wearing pyjamas.

‘Mr Franks? It's Max Allerdyce, from next door. Did you know your front door was open?'

There was no response.

‘Perhaps he's ill,' Rona said sharply, and they both moved forward.

Max said, ‘Are you all right, sir?' But as he laid a tentative hand on the man's shoulder, he slumped forward across the table, almost spilling a mug half-full of coffee.

Rona instinctively leapt back, her heart in her mouth. After a moment's startled surprise, Max placed his fingers against Franks' neck, then his wrist. He looked back at her, his face suddenly white.

‘There's no pulse, Rona. He's – dead!'

Shock slammed into her. ‘He can't be!' she stammered.

‘There's not much doubt; he feels quite cold, poor chap. Most probably a heart attack.'

‘Then where are the others?' She looked about her wildly.

Together, they stared at the lifeless figure sprawled across the table, wondering what best to do. Max said, ‘It seems a bit presumptive, my phoning for an ambulance. Should we wait till they get back? It's not as though anything can be done for him.'

Rona tried to marshal her thoughts. ‘Let's have a quick look round; there may be some clue as to where they've gone.'

Glad to put some space between themselves and the late Mr Franks, they returned to the ground floor and glanced into the two rooms. Both were empty, though there were glasses on the sitting room table, containing the sticky remnants of alcohol.

They paused at the bottom of the stairs, wondering whether or not they were justified in looking further. Then Rona gave an exclamation.

‘What's that?' she asked sharply. On the bottom step were several drops of what looked suspiciously like blood. Her voice rose. ‘Max, I don't like this.'

‘Nor do I, but we'll have to investigate. Someone may be hurt up there. You wait here.'

‘Not on your life! I'm coming with you.'

She reached for his hand and, fearful now of what they might find, they went upstairs, carefully avoiding further splodges on the way.

Max cleared his throat. ‘Presumably the parents have the front room, and Louise the equivalent of your study?'

‘I should think so.'

He knocked on the door of the master bedroom, but by this time neither of them expected a reply. He pushed the door open, then stiffened. Rona, peering over his shoulder, saw Mrs Franks seated at the dressing table. She was wearing a pale pink dressing gown, and her back was towards them. But her head drooped, and the mirror reflected a white face and closed eyes.

‘Not
both
of them!' Rona whispered.

Almost perfunctorily, Max went over and checked for a pulse. He shook his head, then scanned the floor around him. ‘The blood hasn't come from here,' he said, ‘and I didn't see any in the kitchen.'

‘Louise!'

Before he could stop her, Rona had turned and flung open the door of the smaller bedroom. Though, thankfully, it contained no body, this was clearly the source of the blood. A metallic smell was emanating from a large stain on the floor, and beside it, crumpled and smeared with more blood, lay a discarded nightdress.

She held on to the door for support. ‘Oh God, Max,' she whispered. ‘What has he done to her?'

‘Not to mention her parents,' Max answered grimly. ‘One heart attack I could accept; two seems too much of a coincidence, especially in view of this.'

She stared at him, horrified. ‘You think they were
murdered
?'

‘It looks more than likely, wouldn't you say?'

‘But – there was no sign of injury, was there, on either of them?'

‘Not at first glance, but that's hardly the point. And now I really am going to phone the police.'

He took out his mobile, but Rona said faintly, ‘Could we go home and phone from there? I've had enough of this place!'

‘Of course. Sorry, darling.'

He took her arm and led her back downstairs and out of this suddenly sinister house. Gus was awaiting them in the hall, tail wagging. Neither of them noticed him. They went into the sitting room and Rona half-fell into one of the chairs.

‘You said, “What has he done to her?”' Max commented. ‘Who were you referring to?'

Rona looked dazed. ‘I think I meant her father; she'd been afraid of him, and the stress of whatever happened could have brought on his heart attack.' She looked up, her eyes widening. ‘But if the Franks were
murdered
, then surely it must have been the prowler?'

Max lifted his shoulders helplessly. ‘They'll want a description of Louise,' he said. ‘What does she look like?'

Stumblingly, Rona told him.

‘Right. I'll make the call, then I'll get us a stiff drink. God knows we need it.'

He went into the hall and she heard him speaking on the phone. She was finding it hard to process what she'd just seen, the sheer enormity of it. What could possibly have triggered such carnage? And, overlaying all the horror, came the urgent, all-important question: what had happened to Louise?

Max came back into the room, carrying a tray with two glasses. ‘OK, they'll be over here as soon as. In the meantime, get this down you. It should help.'

She nodded, continuing her line of thought. ‘They were in their night clothes and the beds were unmade, in both rooms. They'd been slept in, but not made this morning; which seems to imply that whatever it was happened during the night.'

She shuddered. ‘Suppose they heard a noise downstairs; they could have gone down to investigate. Whoever it was heard them coming, hid somewhere, and they thought it was a false alarm. Mr Franks made some coffee, and then, from wherever he'd been hiding . . .'

‘Have another drink,' Max said gently.

Shying away from the picture she'd painted, Rona back-tracked. ‘I've not heard from Louise since Tuesday, when she phoned about the stalker. The last thing I said to her was that I'd be in touch. And I haven't been, Max. If I'd gone round, I might have been able to prevent this.'

‘And how exactly do you work that out? Listen, darling, there's no way this is anything to do with you.'

‘If Archie Duncan hadn't been so dismissive—'

‘And you can't blame him, either. With what we had, none of us could have foreseen this. It's a ghastly mess, but you can stop worrying about it; it's up to the police now to sort it out.'

Within minutes, it seemed, there was the sound of cars drawing up outside, and their doorbell sounded. Max went to answer it, to find two uniformed officers on the step.

‘Mr Allerdyce?'

‘Yes.'

‘Sergeant Jacobs and Constable Manning, Marsborough Police.' They held up their warrant cards. ‘You rang in to report an incident, sir?'

‘That's right; next door.' Max nodded towards number seventeen. ‘I left the door on the latch for you.'

‘Thank you, sir. I'll have to ask you to make a brief statement, I'm afraid.'

‘Oh. Yes, of course. Come in.'

The policemen removed their hats and followed Max into the sitting room, where Max introduced them to Rona.

‘They want a statement,' he explained, waving Jacobs to a sofa while the constable seated himself on an upright chair and took out his notebook.

‘We have to begin with your full names, address, and dates of birth.'

They supplied them.

‘Occupations?'

‘I'm an artist, and I also teach art. My wife's a writer.'

Jacobs glanced at Rona. ‘You were with your husband when he found the deceased, ma'am?'

‘I was, yes.'

‘Then we'll treat this as a joint statement.' He turned to Max. ‘You stated on the phone, sir, that the deceased are a Mr and Mrs Franks?'

‘That's right, yes.'

‘First names?'

Max glanced at Rona, who supplied, ‘Keith and Barbara.'

The constable wrote it down.

‘And you say their daughter is missing; was she also resident in the house?'

‘Yes,' Rona confirmed. ‘And we're very worried about her.'

‘What age would she be, ma'am?'

‘Mid-thirties, I'd say; but she's very vulnerable, because she has amnesia.'