The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries (21 page)

At this point in the conversation, Laura came up with some coffee for her husband and Emerald wandered off to say a few goodbyes.

“Fancy a walk over to the Fitzwilliam to look at the paintings?” Laura asked Rupert.

“Yes – how about you, Fred?”

“Absolutely; when Emerald can tear herself away.”

A little while later the four of them made the short walk to the museum with its imposing Neoclassical Corinthian portico which seemed almost too grand for the otherwise modest small city street. There they spent a peaceful hour before wending their separate ways, Fred and Emerald back to his lodge in the grounds of Hampton Hall and Rupert and Laura back to her ancestral home of Claresby Manor where their small daughter, Florence, had been left in the care of a close friend. The couple enjoyed a peaceful summer, which included the recently revived Claresby Fair, which was held in their extensive grounds. Fred came up for the day, but there were no mishaps to report from Emerald, who was camping with friends, and it seemed to have been decided that the incident with the crossbow was to be forgotten.

The summer passed with a fitful mix of sunshine and showers, and autumn arrived with a more promising period of settled weather. Students returning to Cambridge for the Michaelmas Term early in October included Emerald to her new ground floor room in Pelham College, her friends James and Georgie to a house shared with a couple of others, and Tom to have a second go at his final year in Sackville College. The first few weeks were quiet enough, but then a couple of things happened which had Fred Thorley picking up the phone to speak to his friend, Rupert Latimer.

“Some funny things have happened, and I am worried about Tizz,” Fred said once they had exchanged greetings.

“What things?” asked Rupert.

“Well firstly, the crossbow reappeared. Tizz is certain that it is hers and the bolts were returned too – minus the one you picked up at her graduation. Georgie found it in her bedroom one day. There are four people in her house – two postgraduates, including herself, and two Cambridge graduates who are working in casual jobs. James is doing a bit of bar work and I think the other chap does the same sort of thing – I think he is a classicist and does a bit of writing too. Anyway, there are plenty of people in and out of the place and there are no locks on the bedroom doors. Still, it would limit who could reasonably wander about the place.”

“Is the front door kept locked?”

“Mostly: or so I gather from Tizz, who is a frequent visitor. All four residents have keys – and I guess the landlord does; but apparently the front door is sometimes left on the latch when someone is expecting guests and is too lazy to answer the door.”

Rupert sighed. “I hope Emerald is keeping her door locked this year?”

“Yes she is,” replied Fred. “Unfortunately she has a ground floor room and with the weather so warm, she left one of her windows open a few times.”

“And?”

“And, when she came back after lunch today, she made a rather unpleasant discovery in her room: a dead rabbit. It was left on her pillow. She is terribly upset – far more upset than with the crossbow incident. In fact, I’m about to drive up there to see her. I wondered if you could meet me there?”

“Of course, I can be in Cambridge in under two hours, traffic permitting. I imagine it will take you a bit longer?”

“No; actually I’m at the London flat, so we could meet at the Porters Lodge at about five, if that’s all right for you?”

“That’s fine. Laura is in London with Florence anyway, so I won’t be missed and I can join her there when I’ve finished in Cambridge or vice versa.”

The two men were greeted by a visibly upset Emerald when they reached Pelham College. She insisted on making them coffee first in the buttery, and then she took them to her room. It was a typical student room with bed, desk and cupboard and a few posters on the wall. This particular room had large sash windows which looked out across some parking spaces onto the road at the front of the college.

“I didn’t move the rabbit, but I had to cover it up, poor little thing, because I couldn’t stand looking at it,” said Emerald.

Rupert removed the tea towel as Emerald averted her eyes. The rabbit was a small white Netherland Dwarf – the type sold as a pet, rather than a wild rabbit. The sight of the limp body was enough to upset the robustly matter-of-fact Rupert and he quickly covered the body again. Fred glanced once and turned away.

“We’ll take it away and get you a fresh pillow,” Fred reassured Emerald, “but I really think that you should ask about having a second floor room, or at least keep the room secure.” By this time Emerald was in tears and her uncle put an arm around her.

“It’s just such a horrible thing to do – who would do such a thing?”

“I expect the rabbit died naturally,” Rupert said comfortingly.

“No it didn’t!” responded Emerald. “Some monster cut its throat!”

Rupert was silenced, because this was quite true, although he had hoped that Emerald might have overlooked this fact as the rabbit had been dead for a while before being placed in her room and there was very little sign of blood. Nonetheless it was clearly intentionally gruesome and intended to frighten her. Emerald, however, was made of stern stuff, as she demonstrated by her next comment.

“I don’t know why someone is doing this, but I won’t let it get to me – and I refuse to move rooms!” Then, seeing her uncle’s face she added, “but I will be more careful about locking things up when I go out.”

“What about your food in the kitchen?”

“You think someone might tamper with that? Well, since I have a fridge in here, I’m quite self-contained, so that shouldn’t be a problem. But it is a bit depressing to have to worry about things like that. I’ve left a couple of packets out there, but I can get them now.” Emerald left the room and Fred turned to Rupert,

“I really do think we should tell the police some of what has happened.”

“Of course. Best to ask Emerald if that is what she wants when she comes back.”

“Have you any idea what could be going on?”

“Well,” replied Rupert slowly, “I know
what
the perpetrator is, I just don’t know
who
they are yet – it’s just a case of working it out.”

“Explain,” said Fred.

“Well, the perpetrator of the three incidents – and I include the time that someone tampered with Emerald’s bicycle brake – is obviously a Cambridge insider, not a crazed fan. They know their way around and can go in and out of students’ rooms without arousing suspicion. They have a sense of occasion – the graduation ceremony – and they obviously want to get Emerald off the scene; hopefully just by scaring her, although they are obviously malicious and callous as well as jealous, so I wouldn’t like to guarantee her safety.”

Fred was looking alarmed. “Tizz never told me about her bicycle – what happened?”

“I expect she didn’t want to worry you,” said Rupert. “Anyway, she didn’t attach any significance to the incident until I asked about it. Put simply, she nearly had an accident last term when the nut on her back brake became – or was made – loose.”

At that moment Emerald returned to the room with a few packets of food and followed by three other people. “I met Georgie, James and Tom outside,” she explained. “They were coming to see if I fancied a walk down to the river and I told them what had happened.” The three students came in, Georgie acknowledging Fred and Rupert and glancing at the tea towel on the pillow as Emerald introduced everybody.

“White rabbit, eh – that’s a classic!” exclaimed James with heartless indifference. He was a nice looking young man of middle height. His friend, Tom, was slighter with a narrow face and long nose. He stepped forward and tweaked the towel so as to expose what was underneath.

“Oh, we’ll have to get rid of that,” Tom said more practically. “Are their some bin bags in your kitchen?” Emerald nodded and she and Tom went off to find one.

“How horrible!” exclaimed Georgie. “What is going on?”

“It seems that Emerald has an enemy,” said Rupert. “All we need to do is to establish who and why.”

“Well, my money is on Rose Tallford,” said Georgie without demur. “She’s been positively toxic to Emerald recently.”

“Can you see her wandering in here with a dead rabbit in her handbag?” asked James, doubtfully.

“Easily!” replied Georgie. Just then the others returned and the James and Tom lifted the pillow with its grisly burden into the sack and then departed with Emerald, like a small funeral cortège, to find the outside bins. Taking advantage of their momentary absence Rupert turned to Georgie and asked,

“Can you quickly fill me in on Emerald’s relationship with the two boys – any feeling in any direction there?”

“Well, not from Emerald,” replied Georgie. “She just sees them as friends. But James is very interested – she just doesn’t seem to notice.”

Rupert nodded knowingly – this had been the state of affairs between him and Laura; although he had finally persuaded her into marriage, probably more by slow attrition than outright conquest. “What about Tom?”

“Well, he is a close sort of person – inscrutable; so it’s hard to tell. I tend to assume as a default that all men will fall for Emerald. Tom’s a physicist, but a great reader – I think he gets distracted, which is why he went off-course last year. But I didn’t put his distraction down to romantic troubles; at least, not with Emerald as the object.”

Further disclosures were precluded by the return of the others. A little discussion between them and Fred and Rupert were persuaded to book into a hotel and stay for the weekend at least. No one ever needed much excuse to spend time in Cambridge whilst the weather was fine and river and parks inviting, but the real reason was Fred’s anxiety and desire to stay until he was sure that Emerald was safe. Emerald refused to involve the police – on the basis that the story would be sure to end up in the press and attract even more adverse attention. Rupert phoned Laura to explain, and then he and Fred took Emerald out for a fish supper. The following day dawned cloudless and a brief exchange of texts secured an arrangement for the two older men to meet up with Emerald and her friends for the obligatory punt down the Cam. Scorning the chauffeured punts, the group secured two boats with Rupert, Fred and Emerald in one, Georgie, James and Tom in the other. Both Rupert and James had previous experience and manoeuvred the boats out with graceful skill, making the handling of the pole and the standing position balanced on the back of the punt look easy and natural. A number of newcomers belied this impression, losing their poles in the mud, wedging their boats horizontally across the river, and committing every error in the catalogue short of falling into the water.

Their trip on the river took them past St John’s College and under the Bridge of Sighs, the ladies relaxed and graceful in their summer frocks which were out for their last showing with just the help of a cardigan in deference to the hint of autumn in the air. The excursion did the trick and, after stopping off for a pub lunch, Emerald returned to her room with the group for a cup of coffee feeling relaxed and calm. There was a little coming and going as various members of the company popped to the bathroom and Fred went out to buy a pint of milk. Eventually they were all settled, making themselves comfortable on the bed and an odd assortment of chairs such as is usually found in student accommodation. Only Emerald was missing – and nobody could remember if she had slipped out to the toilet, to fetch some more mugs or to borrow some milk.

“She’s probably gone to the kitchen – I’ll go and check,” said James.

“I’d better go to the girl’s bathroom,” said Georgie.

“Why not just phone her?” suggested Rupert. “She always keeps her mobile in her pocket.” And he and Fred went down the corridor and outside in search of a signal. Tom followed them for a moment and then wandered off in the opposite direction on a search of his own. Amidst all this fuss and movement, the door to Emerald’s room was left on the latch until they all reassembled after their various failures. In the meantime, Emerald, who had set off for an upstairs kitchen in the search for borrowed milk, returned to find her door ajar and the room deserted. A quick glance around told her that Georgie’s handbag was still there as was her uncle’s jacket, so she deduced that they hadn’t gone far, although she couldn’t understand why everyone had disappeared. She was just about to look out into the corridor when something caught her eye. On her bed was a doll, its head broken from the body. A closer examination confirmed that this doll was one of the replicas made of her character from
Barnstable
– a truly grotesque Emerald lookalike. Beside the doll was a piece of paper with a single word scrawled on it: “Tonight.” Coming on top of the rabbit incident it was too much for Emerald who felt a sudden rush of nausea and dashed to the nearest toilet. It was only then, of course, that the others returned.

“No sign of Emerald?”

“No. You?”

“Nothing.”

The five of them looked one to another until Rupert caught sight of the doll and the note. He picked up the note and passed it to Fred.

“What does this mean?” asked Fred.

“Other than a threat, I don’t know. Anyone could have walked into the room and left it whilst we were out looking for Emerald,” responded Rupert.

“The
someone
who has abducted her! We really must call the police now,” exclaimed Fred. “This is virtually a death threat.” Just then there was a knock on the door and they all jumped. Tentatively Rupert opened it to reveal an alarmed-looking female student.

“There’s something going on in the bathroom. Someone is shouting and screaming, but the door’s locked.”

Rupert shoved almost rudely past her, closely followed by Fred and the others. The bathroom contained a couple of sinks, a shower cubicle and two toilets with doors locked by old-fashioned key and keyhole. One of these was being rattled vigorously from within and what was unmistakeably Emerald’s voice was calling, “Get me out! Who locked me in! Get me out!” almost hysterically.