The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries (19 page)

It was with relief that Laura found herself in the Range Rover with Rupert at the wheel on the pretty rural drive back to Claresby Manor.

“I’m so glad to be out of the whole poisonous affair!” she exclaimed. “I suppose we will probably have to go to court, but other than that, I hope I never see Sunley Grange again.”

“Um,” began Rupert tentatively. “That might not be so easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, outside Damian and Flora you were your Uncle George’s closest relation. Damian and Flora won’t be allowed to profit from their crime. Certainly they won’t be allowed to inherit the money which would have gone to Elsa if Damian had not killed her. There is another little technicality too. Because Elsa died before George he, as her next of kin, may inherit her house too – unless she has drawn up a recent will, which somehow I doubt. There is no way that your cousins will be allowed to inherit that element of wealth from their father. One way or another, you will probably end up with Sunley Grange!”

Laura looked aghast. “Oh, I do hope not! If I do I really will give it away to become a refuge for homeless cats.”

Rupert Investigates: A Cambridge Mystery

A late June day in picturesque Cambridge is always a pleasure, but doubly so when attending a traditional graduation ceremony in the elegant setting of the Senate-House. For Laura Latimer the occasion might have been a poignant reminder of the fact that, by dropping out after her first term of studying the History of Art, she had robbed herself of the opportunity of ever participating as a nervous graduand about to kneel before the Vice-Chancellor’s deputy. However, she was not predisposed to such introspection and was ready to enjoy the day as a spectator for whatever entertainment it might provide. She and her husband, Rupert, were currently accompanying the procession which was making its way from Pelham College, past King’s College and on to the Senate-House. The object of their attention was a rather beautiful raven-haired young woman in a black gown and a hood edged with white fur. Considering that the majority of other women in the procession were similarly dressed in the academic costume of a Bachelor of Arts, she seemed to be attracting a disproportionate amount of interest both from casual passers-by and strategically placed press photographers. Bumping accidently into one of the latter, Rupert grumbled loudly,

“You’d think that they could leave her in peace for one day!”

“No chance of that,” replied Laura. “At least they won’t be allowed in the Senate-House without an invitation.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one photographer tries to wangle his way in by posing as a proud parent. Poor Tizz, she’s quite right – she will never be able to blend into the background.” Rupert cast his eyes around as if to detect every possible nook and cranny which might conceal a zealous member of the paparazzi, but seemed to suddenly catch sight of something else that galvanized him into instant action. With surprising agility for a man with a long, rangy, rather badly-put-together look about him, he leapt forward and caught hold of the raven-haired woman just as some projectile shot past them at tremendous velocity, slightly grazing Rupert’s arm.

The day had commenced more peaceably with Laura and Rupert meeting up with Tizz – as she was affectionately known by family and close friends – and her Uncle Fred in the beautiful gardens of the exclusively female Pelham College. The sun was shining and there was a bustle of activity as the students arranged their gowns and hoods and deployed a derangement of pins and brooches to try and sensibly keep the garments in place. Laura and Rupert were the invited guests of Tizz – better known by her real name of Emerald George. Emerald George had been in the public eye from the moment of her birth as the daughter of Hollywood actor Victor George and his aristocratic English wife, Lady Rose Thorley. Emerald’s father was part of a famous acting dynasty, her mother the daughter of Earl Thorley of Hampton and a renowned beauty. Having inherited her mother’s looks and her father’s talent, Emerald George’s celebrity was compounded by her appearance in the box office hit
Barnstable
when she was only eleven years old. After the phenomenal success of this film, Victor George’s career had sunk gradually into the doldrums until he finally decided to agree to the inevitable
Barnstable: A Crime Revisited
. By this time Emerald was sixteen and quite certain what she wanted out of life – and it didn’t include an acting career. It just so happened that, along with her already abundant gifts, Emerald had inherited the Thorley brains – which had bypassed her mother – and was much more interested in scholarship and mathematics than anything Hollywood had to offer. Unfortunately, the plot of her father’s film required a reprise of her role in the sequel. Somehow she had managed to cut a deal with her father that allowed her – on completion of filming – to finish her education at an English boarding school and go on to study at a university of her choice.

The sequel to
Barnstable
was a huge success and Victor George won his Oscar and Emerald George travelled to England to reside with her beloved uncle, Fred Thorley, who was currently Viscount Hampton. Fred was her mother’s much younger half-brother and only thirty years old. He was also heir not just to his father’s title, but also the Thorley tendency to reclusiveness and scholarship. His greatest pleasure was concocting excruciatingly difficult number puzzles and crosswords – and it was through their shared interest in crosswords that he had become acquainted with Rupert. As Rupert frequently went to stay with Fred, he soon got to know Tizz and encouraged both her and her uncle to contribute crosswords to his books. It was as a consequence of this friendship that Rupert and Laura had been invited to join Fred and Emerald for her graduation, her parents being otherwise occupied in the United States. Like Laura, Rupert was familiar with Cambridge, having been a student there himself. Unlike Laura, he had completed his studies and emerged with a creditable first. As the two of them watched Fred’s inept attempts at securing Emerald’s hood with a hairclip, the question of the classification of degrees had surfaced.

“Did you say that Tizz got a double first?” asked Laura, arranging her fascinator, which kept sliding down her silky hair.

“Yes, pretty effortless stuff for her,” Rupert allowed himself a warm glance at Emerald. Her luminous beauty, which was much praised for lighting up the cinema screen, was un-dampened by the sombre black of her academicals. Aware of her husband’s admiration for the younger woman, but confidently untroubled, Laura pursued her questions.

“I’ve never quite sorted out the Cambridge system of marking degrees – being a dropout myself.”

“Well, strictly speaking the degree does not have a class at Cambridge and is awarded to any student who scrupulously attends every term. In reality everyone attaches the mark from the final examination to their degree. That is why I can claim a first having made such a poor showing in my earlier exams. Tizz gets a double first by virtue of achieving a first in two sets of exams.”

“So what is a starred first?”

“If you get a first in every paper you sit – which, come to mention it, I thought Tizz did.”

“And she even found time to produce some crosswords for your new book.” There was a grudging respect in Laura’s voice.

“A pity her parents couldn’t come,” mused Rupert.

“I guess their presence would have caused too much of a fuss and taken the attention away from the students, which wouldn’t be fair.” Laura looked at the girls, just starting to form a vaguely orderly queue under the instructions of a college official with scarlet edging to her gown. The parents fell back to the periphery, waving and smiling at their offspring as they began the short walk into the centre of Cambridge. It was all very relaxed and informal as they followed the road, stopping the traffic. It was as the students finally approached the Senate-House that the photographers, straining to catch a picture of the modest and reluctant Emerald George, were rewarded by the spectacle of what looked to them liked a crazed fan leaping onto her and knocking her to the ground. A moment of confusion followed in which some well-meaning onlookers sought to restrain Rupert and to help Emerald to her feet. Emerald soon made it clear that, not only was she unharmed, but that her concern was for Rupert, who was bleeding profusely from the small cut to his arm.

“What happened?” she asked him, pushing her thick dark hair off her face and trying to staunch the bleeding from his arm with a silk scarf.

“I saw a person – it looked like they had a weapon.” Rupert was pulling away from Emerald and scanning the shop fronts for a sign of the assailant.

“What is going on? Are you all right?” It was the Praelector, Dr Alice Bean, who had been organising the young ladies at the College and was leading the procession. Her concern was obviously to get things moving again and she did not seem to notice Rupert at all. Fred too, who had been a little ahead of Rupert and Laura, came to check up on Emerald, a worried look on his fair and kindly face.

“I’m fine,” Emerald assured them both, as Rupert slipped off through the crowd. “Really; there isn’t a problem.” The Praelector gave her a cursory glance, which seemed to suggest that as her head was still clearly attached to her shoulders there was no possible reason not to continue with the ceremony, and hurried off to set things in motion again. Fred seemed more genuinely concerned and turned to Laura;

“What was all that about?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Laura. “Rupert saw someone. I’m not sure if they threw something or a shot was fired.”

“I didn’t hear a shot,” said Fred. “Was someone targeting Tizz or was it just a random object being chucked about?”

“I don’t think anyone would deliberately attack the students,” Laura reassured him. “Whatever it was, I expect that Rupert will get to the bottom of it. I think we might as well carry on with the others and wait until he catches up.”

Fred nodded, obviously wanting to follow Tizz and somewhat mollified. Laura, however, looked with a frown of concern after the now distant figure of her husband, but decided to carry on with Fred and the other parents and friends who were all talking animatedly amongst themselves. Sure enough, the young ladies of Pelham College continued on their way as the visitors filed into the Senate-House to take their seats. Laura followed the stocky figure of Fred up the stairs to sit in the gallery, firmly placing her handbag on the seat next to her for Rupert’s benefit. However, it was not until the ceremony was nearly finished that he arrived. He had missed the entrance of the Esquire Bedell bearing his mace, and the Vice-Chancellor’s deputy in her scarlet cope. He had also missed the moment when Emerald knelt down to have her degree conferred upon her and left the building clasping her certificate. There was quite a lot of Latin which he missed too – which was a pity because, unlike most of the audience, he might actually have understood it.

“Has she been up yet?” he asked in a whisper after clambering apologetically over people’s knees to reach Laura.

“Yes; just a minute ago. But we are nearly half way through and no clapping, so we should be out soon too.”

Rupert sat down and showed all signs of concentrating on the graduation ceremony. Laura, however, looked him over carefully and noticed that, as well as having a blood stained scarf around his left arm, he had acquired a carrier-bag with some item concealed within it. Although curious, she decided to wait until they were outside again to question him. Fortunately the event was mercifully brief and one of the Esquire Bedells called them to order and everyone stood whilst the officials left in another procession. As soon as they could make their way down the stairs, the three of them went to find Emerald in Senate-House Yard.

The sun shone warmly and Fred quickly spotted Emerald amongst the throng of new graduates. He gave her a little wave and she came to join them. All around them families were posing proudly for photographs. Rupert indicated that he would use his camera and Emerald stood smiling next to her uncle. Although not especially tall herself, in heels she was on a level with Fred, whose diminutive stature and rather washed-out complexion was pure Thorley. A series of portraits of past Earls at Hampton Hall displayed the same pleasant, insipid face. It was a face that was only redeemed by the intelligent dark eyes which shone out. In comparison, Emerald’s beauty was vivid, with red lips, dark hair and deep blue eyes, and family portraits demonstrated that these looks came from her grandmother, Earl Thorley’s first countess, who had been a model. His second wife and Fred’s mother had been a distant cousin and childhood friend whom he married after ten lonely years as a widower. A few more photographs of the beaming Fred and the surprisingly shy Emerald were taken by Rupert and a couple of lurking press photographers took advantage of the moment too. Then Emerald indicated to her uncle that she wanted to move away before she attracted any more attention – not least because the state of Rupert’s arm was arousing curiosity - and the four of them started to make their way back to Pelham College where a reception was to be held.

“What have you got in that bag?” Laura asked Rupert at the first opportunity.

“A crossbow bolt,” said Rupert in a matter of fact voice, pulling out something that looked more like an arrow to Laura.

“Wow!” exclaimed Emerald, turning pale and looking suddenly confused, “is that the thing that hit your arm?”

“Luckily it only grazed me – this is a no-nonsense missile.”

“It could have killed her!” exclaimed Fred, as if only just realising the gravity of what had occurred. “Rupert, I think you saved Tizz’s life.”

“Yes; I don’t think that anyone else saw what happened properly or they might have called a halt to proceedings and brought in the police.”

“Just as well that didn’t happen – Dr Bean would have gone spare!” commented Emerald, whose pale face had now taken on a flush.