The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries (16 page)

“What do you think happened?” asked Laura.

“Well, there was the other half of the aggrieved family here on his home territory tonight: Hamilton Gilbert himself – the man whose promising career and entire grip on life were derailed by Kirsten’s rejection. This was the first time she had played here; he too might have felt the moment had come for revenge.”

“How do you know that he is here?” asked Laura, flummoxed for the first time.

“Because his father told me. Hamilton is our very own vagrant in the aviator hat who loves music so much. After his relationship broke down he turned to drink and dropped out completely. In fact, I could see a resemblance between Mr Posh and his son – the same intense, dark eyes.”

“And he took the clarinet! Didn’t Kirsten or Suzy recognise him?”

Rupert shook his head. “No. I think Kirsten had a fleeting recognition of his parents. But I’m not sure that either she or Suzy actually came into contact with him.”

“So he somehow poisoned the clarinet?”

“Not even that – and now I am only making deductions; I know nothing. At least, I do know that the mouthpiece of the clarinet smelled of almonds. I was thinking of cyanide at the time, but the clarinet didn’t smell of bitter almonds, it had a sweet smell.”

“And Kirsten was allergic to nuts! You think he soaked the reed in almond oil – or simply replaced the reed with one he had treated? But how could he be sure that would kill her?”

“I don’t suppose he could. In fact, I rather doubt that he meant to kill her. As her long-term boyfriend he would have known that she had an allergy to nuts. Perhaps he was just trying to embarrass her: she would have a reaction, gasp a little, mess up the playing. I don’t think such a violent reaction was predictable.”

“But it is still murder.”

This time Rupert’s shrug was eloquent with indifference. “Like I say, all that is guesswork. The police will soon know that she died of anaphylactic shock if that really is the case. That will lead to her allergy and they will look at the clarinet and find out that Hamilton Gilbert fiddled with it. If they are worth their salt they will get that far, no problem. As to whether a murder change will stick: who knows? Definitely a case of diminished responsibility. Best case scenario, Hamilton ends up getting the sort of treatment he needs.”

“So you will say nothing?”

“They would treat me like an interfering fool if I butt in with my harebrained scheme; and rightly so.”

“What shall we do then?” Laura looked dispirited.

“Find Suzy and take her home if the police have asked her all the questions they want to and then return to Claresby Manor. You can check in and see if Florence has settled for the night.”

At this final suggestion Laura’s face brightened up and she took her husband’s hand and went with him to find her cousin.

The Floods Murder

“Getting through the ford could actually be quite dangerous,” said Rupert to Laura with a note of satisfaction in his voice.

“Yes, well you knew that the river was in flood and chose to come this route, so I can only assume you fancied the challenge,” returned Laura.

Rupert gave her a wicked little smile and ploughed the four wheel drive vehicle through the water, creating a small tsunami in their wake. Ignoring her husband’s smile of exhilaration Laura continued to address more practical matters.

“I imagine that Sunley Grange may be flooded too. It is a beautiful house, but being so near the river has always been a problem and this autumn has been as bad as I can remember for persistent rain.”

“I’m sure that Damian and Flora were at our wedding, but I can’t honestly recall them.”

“They weren’t at our wedding, as it happens,” said Laura. “We spent some time together as children, but were never particularly close – I preferred Suzy.”

“She’s coped well since Kirsten’s death,” mused Rupert.

“Yes, I’m glad to see her in a more balanced relationship; she was too much in Kirsten’s shadow, but Peter obviously adores her.”

“She was your cousin on your father’s side?”

“Yes. It was my father’s sister, May who was her mother. George Reckless was mother’s brother and his wife was Sylvia: Damian and Flora are their children. They are very slightly older than me. I do remember staying at Sunley Grange as a child, but I’ve not been there as an adult. To be honest, I was pretty surprised when Damian contacted me and asked that we come to stay; especially at such short notice. It’s just lucky that Veronica was happy to babysit for us.”

“I suppose that his father’s illness has been a bit of a shock. Still, Reckless is a wonderful name: he should have been a solicitor!” Another smile brightened Rupert’s large featured face.

“Actually he was an estate agent: Reckless and Knocker. They went out of business years ago; I don’t think my Uncle George had much of a business brain. His real interest was antiques and books. He spent any money he did have on beautiful old furniture – or so my father said. He always used to think that Sunley Grange was the worst place for such things because of the pervading damp.”

At this point in the conversation, Rupert and Laura Latimer arrived at their destination. Sunley Grange was a gracious Georgian house of balanced symmetry and old-fashioned elegance. Its best feature was that it had light, well-proportioned rooms; its worst that it was in a poor state of repair and tended to be chilly because of the expense of heating a large, five-bedroom residence. Neither Damian nor Flora actually lived with their father anymore, but since his illness Damian had moved in, ostensibly to look after the place. It was a well known fact that Damian had been left the house in his father’s will. There had been some speculation amongst the wider family that this was rather unfair, as George Reckless had no money to speak of other than the capital that was represented by the house and therefore Flora would receive almost nothing on her father’s death.

It was still raining with steely persistence as Laura made her way to the front door, improvising with a pashmina to keep her glossy hair dry whilst Rupert wrestled their two bags out of the back of the Range Rover. Fortunately Flora stood with the front door already open and the couple were able to enter quickly. Despite the fact that the cousins were not particularly close, Flora’s rather mousy face was lit with a smile and an almost relieved expression as she welcomed Laura. Her brother, joining her in the hallway, seemed equally pleased to see them and shook Rupert – whose tall, angular frame towered over him – firmly by the hand. Flora herself, with her almost childlike height and figure, made Rupert feel as ungainly and oversized as he ever did, and he had to stoop almost double to give her a polite greeting peck on the cheek. They were led into a comfortable reception room where a log fire blazed in the fireplace. Despite the warmth this exuded Rupert was immediately aware of at least the smell and feel of damp in the room. Flora went out to fetch coffee and the other three sat down in some plum coloured eighteenth century mahogany armchairs.

As Laura exchanged preliminary courtesies with her cousin, Rupert allowed his curious eye to rove around the room. He was used to the recently reinstated opulence of Claresby Manor, but was nonetheless impressed by the quality and style of the furniture he saw about him. The showpiece was a Queen Anne walnut cabinet, splendid but rather ugly with its mottled veneer and urn-finials above the doors. An olivewood long case clock with floral marquetry also caught his attention and impressed him more with its quality than its intrinsic beauty. Damian noticed his interest.

“Beautiful furniture was my father’s hobby,” Damian explained to Rupert. “He bought and sold items over the years, usually at a loss. He did have good taste, but he was not a business man. The best stuff we keep in this room as we usually have a fire burning in here. We are quite lucky not to have been flooded this week. You will find we have sandbags at the side door, which is where we are most vulnerable.” He spoke about the house in a proprietorial way although Rupert knew from Laura that he actually lived in a modest bachelor flat in the neighbouring town. He also spoke about his father in the past tense. Before they could discuss the furniture more, Flora returned with a tray laden with coffee cups and a plate of biscuits which she settled on a small table, passing the coffee around with milk and sugar as requested. When she too was settled in an armchair, it was Laura who recommenced the conversation.

“How is Uncle George? When I spoke to you yesterday, Damian, you sounded concerned.”

“I’m afraid it really is only a matter of time,” replied Damian, his pale eyes fixed on his coffee cup. “He had a massive stroke about a week ago and since then the doctors have told us of serious cardiac problems. I’m not sure he would be alive now without their intervention, but without hope of recovery I gather that they will let nature take its course.”

“Was he treated promptly after his stroke? I know he lived here alone and wondered how quickly he was found?”

“Ah, well,” said Damian in measured tones, as his sister looked uncomfortable, “you haven’t heard the whole tale. He wasn’t alone: his wife, Elsa, was with him.”

“Wife!” exclaimed Laura. “I didn’t know that he had remarried.”

For the first time some colour came into Damian’s rather insipid complexion. His was a dull rather than an ugly face, but when his expression kindled, as it did now, the effect was not a pleasant one. There was a hint of bitterness in the tight line of his mouth. However, he spoke in an easy enough tone,

“No, neither did I, Of course I knew that he was friendly with Elsa. She lives in one of the terraced cottages down by the church and I think my father had taken to going for walks with her. I bumped into her once when I came around to help my father with some gardening in the summer. She was just leaving. We saw her at the hospital too, didn’t we, Flora?”

“Yes.” Flora had the same pallor as her brother, but on her the result was merely to make her look washed-out. “It was Elsa who was with him when he was taken ill.”

Damian, not waiting to see if his sister had more to say, took up the story. “We were called by Mrs Talbot, father’s housekeeper – it happened to be her day. She left text messages for both Flora and me, just to say that father had been taken ill and was in hospital. I phoned the hospital and, as soon as I knew it was serious, I picked Flora up from Brightfields and we went in together.”

“The school was very understanding,” said Flora with a weak smile. Laura knew that she was the secretary at a local preparatory school.

“Of course when we got there, we were confronted by Elsa – all tearful and wifely. She had been having lunch here and said that father had complained about feeling funny and, before she could do anything, had collapsed. It was only when the doctor came in and addressed her as Mrs Reckless, that I had any idea that they were married. It was a shock, I can tell you!”

Somehow Rupert was left with the impression that Damian had been more shocked by the discovery that his father had remarried than by the possibility of his imminent demise.

“Was she not living here, then?” asked Laura, picking up on Damian’s mention of her coming for lunch almost as if she were a guest.

“No; that’s the funny thing. Apparently they were married in a civil ceremony just over a month ago. Other than two friends of Elsa’s, who live in the village and attended as witnesses, no one else knew about the marriage – not even Mrs Talbot. I can only assume that it was a romantic gesture.” This final statement was said in such a tight-lipped way as to suggest absolute contempt for any such motive. “Beyond that, she was still living in her house and my father here at Sunley Grange. And, of course, he has still left the house to me in his will. You know how important it was to him to keep the house in the family – it was almost an obsession with him. It wasn’t a case of him having any particular fondness for me.” Another bitter twist moved the edges of his mouth. “Anyway, the will is over on the desk.” Damian nodded his head towards the fine oak and ebony Victorian desk where a formal looking document was indeed placed on top in sole occupation.

“It’s the will he wrote five years ago,” added Flora, nervously. “He would never have changed it.”

A slightly awkward silence followed these revelations as if something indecent had been said. It was Flora who changed the subject.

“I’ve got the lunch in cooking. I hope you like hotpot? The weather is so chilly that I’ve started to cook my winter menu. After lunch we can go for a walk along the river – I hope you have brought your welly-boots?”

“We’ve got some living in the back of the car,” smiled Laura. “And we’ll brave a walk however rainy or windy it is.”

Whilst Flora was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the lunch, Rupert and Laura took their bags up into a pleasant bedroom with a pink floral theme on the rather faded wallpaper. The view was out of the side of the house where the willows that lined the river could be seen, although the course of the river itself was hidden behind a handsome stone wall. The lawn in the garden, however, was already under an inch or so of water which was edging its way relentlessly towards the house itself. The fact that they were welcome guests was attested by the fact that a fire was burning in a bedroom fireplace which looked like it hadn’t been used since the time of King George III. The blustery wind outside was making the smoke filter into the room and Rupert’s eyes were watering slightly. Laura emerged from their en-suite bathroom, her hair freshly brushed and glowing around her pretty face.

“Is what Damian said true?” asked Rupert abruptly.

“Which thing?” asked Laura.

“About his father being obsessed with keeping the house in the family?”

“Oh, yes.” Laura herself, as the inheritor of Claresby Manor – a house which had been in her family since before 1066 – knew a thing or two about the lengths one would go to in order to retain the family home.

“So he might not, for example, have wanted to leave something to a young wife, even if he was besotted with her?”