The Grasmere Grudge

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘He wouldn’t want to come,’ said Simmy with certainty. ‘He’s fed up with the whole palaver.’

  ‘Hasn’t he ever met her? If he was so chummy with Philip, why hasn’t he come across her before now?’

  ‘He’s not all that chummy with Philip. He’s a distant cousin and they’ve never been close. His parents put them in touch when Philip wanted someone to look at Kathleen’s stuff. I got the impression Chris hardly knew him until then. But now he’s got landed with the role of main contact for the nursing home. They call him first if there’s a crisis.’

  Ben nodded slowly. ‘Okay. So, Christopher never met Kathleen Leeson – but Jonathan did. Didn’t somebody say that it was Christopher who first sent Jonathan along to do her house clearance before she died?’

  Simmy began to chew her own lip. ‘Good question. Questions. When I went to Grasmere in March with Chris to see Philip, I assumed they had met before. Chris knew where Philip’s house was, and they behaved like old friends. I never actually asked how well they knew each other.’

  ‘We need to know,’ Ben persisted.

  ‘I don’t see why. What I am sure of, is that Chris has seen him a few times since then. He helped him move to the nursing home and got himself noted as a friend who could be called in an emergency. He never once mentioned a woman friend.’

  Bonnie interposed, saying, ‘Corinne says Daphne probably got the brush-off a while back, but wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’s like that, apparently.’

  ‘In which case, she wouldn’t object to a whole lot of us showing up to talk to her,’ said Ben. He frowned at Simmy. ‘Are you sure Chris wouldn’t want to come with us? It would help him fulfil his promise to Philip. If we put it like that to him, he could hardly refuse.’

  Simmy started to see glimmers of hope, thanks entirely to Ben Harkness’s good sense. ‘It’s possible,’ she agreed. ‘First I’ll do my shopping, and then I’ll call him.’

  ‘So – how about this? We all go to Ambleside after lunch, and you call Christopher to say you’re there and can he join you. Don’t mention me and Bonnie. We’ll get the bus. Just keep it all casual and sort of accidental. Where are we meant to meet this woman?’ he asked Bonnie.

  ‘She said Waterhead’s her favourite spot, across the road from the bus stop. Sits and watches boats on the lake, with an ice cream. I’ve got to call her again to fix it for definite.’

  ‘Tell her three o’clock, on the pier. We might find somewhere to sit, with luck. The weather’s not brilliant, so it shouldn’t be too crowded.’

  Simmy’s admiration for Ben’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the region was once again kindled. ‘I’ve never been on the pier,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not very impressive, but it makes a good meeting place.’

  ‘Chris might like it,’ she said, with considerably less certainty than before.

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ said Ben.

  Chapter Twenty

  The pier at Waterhead was the point where trippers disembarked from boats after taking cruises on Windermere. It had many of the same attractions as Bowness, at the other end of the lake. Small children ran around chasing ducks; people in colourful summer clothes sat on green benches watching all the activity; ice cream was in plentiful supply. ‘How will we find her?’ wondered Bonnie, as they got off the bus that had brought them from Bowness. ‘We don’t know what she looks like.’

  ‘Woman on her own, obviously waiting for someone. She’ll probably be late, so we’ll see her hurrying from the bus stop,’ said Ben.

  ‘It was sloppy of me not to ask her what she’d be wearing,’ Bonnie reproached herself. ‘I didn’t think.’

  ‘You’re still wobbly. It’ll be fine. She knows there’s two of us,’ His kindness was automatic and exemplary. It manifestly made Bonnie feel warm and understood.

  ‘Will Simmy make it, do you think? She’s much keener on being involved this time.’

  ‘She wants to clear Christopher’s name. All thanks to Moxon – clever old stick that he is. If I’ve got it right, that was the whole point of his visit to the shop last week.’

  ‘It fits. But why would he want her involved? He mostly seems to want her to keep clear.’

  ‘Probably it was me he wanted,’ he said with no false modesty. ‘We all come as a package, don’t we.’

  ‘We used to. It’s all going to be different now, isn’t it? With her getting married and you going off to uni, we’ll never be a team again.’

  ‘Things change. And it’s three months before I go. We’ve got plenty of time to adapt.’

  ‘Corinne’s worried about me coping without you. And she’s worried that Christopher isn’t right for Simmy.’

  ‘Why? What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing much. It was her face, mainly. She goes all crumpled when she’s worried.’

  ‘Is that her?’ Ben suddenly darted towards a seat on the short promenade. ‘There, look.’

  A woman of about seventy was sitting awkwardly, trying to get a good view of the area, her head turning in a jerky arc, scanning every person in sight.

  ‘What’s her surname again?’ Ben hissed.

  ‘Schofield.’

  ‘Mrs Schofield?’ he asked politely, when he reached the woman. ‘Am I right?’

  She shaded her eyes, as he stood between her and the sun, making his features hard to see. ‘Are you Ben, then?’ she said.

  ‘I am indeed. And this is Bonnie.’

  ‘Corinne’s success story,’ the woman smiled. ‘Just look at you! What a lovely girl!’

  ‘Your bus was on time, then?’ Ben said smoothly.

  ‘I had to choose whether to be twenty minutes early or ten minutes late,’ she grumbled. ‘Should have thought of that. Sitting here’s bad for my knee.’

  ‘Would you rather we walked as we talked, then?’ asked Ben with extreme solicitude.

  ‘No, no. I’ll just stretch it out.’ She followed the words with action, extending her leg into the path of passers-by. ‘I’ve got Corinne to thank for this, then, have I?’

  Bonnie smiled, almost simpering. ‘She knows everybody, doesn’t she? It’s a wonder we haven’t met before.’

  ‘Well, let’s get on with it,’ said Daphne, somewhat to the youngsters’ surprise. ‘I’d like to get the next bus home, if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘That suits us very well,’ said Ben. Then he gave a little yelp. ‘Oh!’ His gaze was on two people approaching from a northerly direction. ‘There’s Simmy and Christopher.’ He leant over Daphne. ‘Two friends of ours look as if they’re going to join us. I hope that’s all right?’

  The woman gave him a narrow look. ‘They just happen to be passing by, do they?’

  ‘I honestly didn’t know they’d be here. But they are very much involved in the whole business of the Grasmere murder. If you don’t mind, I know they’d be really keen to hear what you can tell us.’

  ‘Where are they going to sit?’

  The bench was a good size. Bonnie had already sat on it next to Daphne. ‘I think we can all squash in here,’ said Ben with a laugh. He waved and beckoned to the newcomers. ‘Let me introduce you,’ he said, and proceeded to do so.

  They made a motley group. Christopher sat at the furthest end from Daphne, leaning back and making no visible effort to hear the conversation. Ben and Bonnie flanked their informant, and Simmy squeezed in next to Bonnie. ‘So – you know Philip,’ Ben began. ‘And you knew Mrs Leeson before she died? Had you ever met Mr Woolley? The man who was killed.’

  ‘Heard a lot about him. Never saw him, though. Kathleen took against him in a big way, all because of her dog. Wouldn’t let him in the house. Funny creature it was, anyway, with a nasty temper. Didn’t like any men and couldn’t abide anyone with a beard. It was a joke, really. Must have been badly treated as a pup by a beardy bloke, we supposed.’

  ‘What happened to it after she died?’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘It was put down. Too old and unreliable to find a new home.
Philip felt bad about it, but what could he do?’

  ‘You weren’t tempted to give it a home, then?’ asked Ben.

  ‘With my cats! You must be joking. The trouble was, Kathleen believed that those CaniCare people would rescue it for her. She put a bit of money aside for them, to cover their costs and so forth, and then said they could have as much of her stuff as they wanted. But it didn’t happen – very dishonest of them, if you ask me. Philip had to get some vet to do the business.’

  Christopher finally sat up. ‘How is he today?’

  ‘Not good, according to my friend Susan who works there. Can’t be long now. Seems peaceful enough.’ She sighed. ‘Another good man out of the picture. I swear there’s twenty women at least for every man. And it’s getting worse.’

  The two couples sitting alongside her made suitably rueful faces at this, apologising for their good fortune. ‘Not that I should grumble,’ she went on. ‘I’ve had three good husbands, after all.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Bonnie asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Well, there was Malcolm, when I was just nineteen and he was twenty. He was a dreamer, and no mistake. Fell under a combine harvester and lost both his legs. Lasted another five years, but his heart and lungs failed in the end. Then there was my Mikey. Gorgeous Irish feller. Black curls and brilliant blue eyes. We had two kiddies together. Went off to live in Canada, we did, but never could rightly settle to it. The boys stayed, and Mikey and I came home again. But he took to the drink. Never felt right, somehow, without our lads. He just took himself off one day and I never saw him again. Divorce papers came through in the end.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Still miss Mikey, I do. He’d got a lovely singing voice. Dead by now, shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘And your sons? Do they keep in touch?’ asked Bonnie.

  ‘Christmas, they phone. Nothing more than that. Shame, really.’

  ‘You said three husbands.’ It was, to everyone’s surprise, Christopher who prompted her.

  ‘That’s right, pet. Took on an old boy, name of Dan, when I was gone sixty, and he was pushing eighty. Silly, really. I just got myself into a panic and thought I should have someone to go round with. Never should’ve married him. Only lasted five years, and when he passed on, his kids went ballistic, ’cause he left me half his money. Said that was the only reason I married him. Nasty, they were.’ She scrubbed a tear away. ‘And it’s not as if it was a fortune, neither.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Simmy faintly, while the others sat in silence. ‘That’s a sad story.’

  ‘I’m not complaining. I’ve done a lot better than most. It’s just talking about my boys that sometimes sets me off. They were such darling little kiddies. Over forty now, both of them. Makes you think.’ She looked at her outstretched leg with the swollen knee, and everyone plainly read her gloomy thoughts. ‘I’m not suited to living on my own, you see. Feels all wrong, it does.’

  ‘But you’ve got cats,’ said Ben bracingly.

  ‘Three of them. It’s life, you see – I have to have some life about the place. Typical old girl with her moggies, that’s me.’

  ‘So …’ Ben seemed at a loss, for once. ‘All you can tell us about the Grasmere business is that Kathleen didn’t like Jonathan and didn’t want him in her house.’

  ‘Is that what I said? It wasn’t quite like that, you know. She did want to get rid of her things. She was getting on with it quite nicely, when her heart gave out. The last time I went to see her, the spare room was more or less empty. I was amazed, to tell you the truth. And she’d got a lot more organised, with boxes in the back room downstairs full of things she didn’t want any more. It was really admirable, the way she pulled herself together, in those last weeks. Almost as if she knew she was running out of time and couldn’t just leave it all in a great big mess.’

  ‘But she didn’t make a will,’ Christopher reminded everyone, in a tone that suggested that this point was crucial. ‘She didn’t put anything in writing.’

  ‘She did too!’ Daphne was emphatic. ‘She left a note for Philip, saying he was to use his best judgement on where it should all go.’

  ‘Which had absolutely no legal standing,’ flashed Christopher. ‘It wasn’t even properly signed. Anybody could have written it.’

  ‘You saw it, did you?’ Simmy asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘Jonathan told me about it. So did Philip, later on. All it did was complicate matters even more.’

  Ben waved this exchange away. ‘Did you know about the stumpwork?’ he asked Daphne. ‘That Jacobean embroidery that sold for such a lot in the auction?’

  Everyone heard Christopher’s exhalation, expressive of exasperation. Simmy and Ben both glanced at him. Daphne frowned and stared at the lake. They all waited for her to speak. ‘I saw it in one of her boxes, when I went there with Philip. That was after she died,’ she said. ‘Nice bright colours. Funny little people, done in wool. Never dreamt it was anything special.’

  ‘Do you know where Kathleen got it from?’

  ‘Her granny, must have been. Or someone like that.’

  ‘So how did Jonathan get hold of it?’ Bonnie demanded. ‘That’s what nobody seems to know.’

  ‘Must have nicked it,’ said Daphne flatly. ‘Kathleen would never have let him have it. She didn’t let him have anything. He had that key, remember. Could’ve got in any time and helped himself.’

  ‘No!’ Christopher almost shouted. ‘He wouldn’t do that. For one thing, he’d never have dared.’

  ‘Who’d have caught him, though? He must’ve hoped nobody even knew it was there. He could make up any story he liked, and no one could prove otherwise. It was his bad luck that Philip and I can both testify to where it came from.’

  ‘It was his bad luck to be killed,’ said Christopher sourly.

  ‘Wait!’ Ben held up his finger, in a gesture that they all found familiar. ‘Did you or Philip tell anybody about it, before Jonathan was killed? If so, who? Because’ − he paused for effect – ‘that person would be a prime suspect for the murder.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Who would I tell? And Philip never sees anybody.’

  ‘Did Kathleen not have any family?’ asked Bonnie, who maintained a sentimental attachment to the idea of proper families, lacking such a thing of her own.

  ‘She had a few in-laws, but never kept in touch. The Leeson bloke was dead long before I met her. She told me once she had twins, back in the 1970s. The first one was born alive, but they didn’t know there was another one, and it died. Then the first one got meningitis as a little thing and lived a few years with terrible brain damage. Tragic business. She had three brothers, all a lot older, and not one of them had any kids. She used to say there was a curse on the family and she was quite glad it was ending with her. She liked dogs, you know. Liked them better than people. She had five of them when I first knew her. They called her the dog woman in Grasmere, you know.’ She looked at Christopher as if he might be aware of this.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ben. Simmy wondered why he wasn’t taking notes.

  ‘I should go,’ said Daphne. ‘I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn or broken any confidences. I don’t think I have. It’s not nice to think of that man dying right there in the middle of a place like Grasmere. It’s a disgrace that such a thing could happen. And nobody knowing who could have done it.’ She turned her head and looked directly at Christopher. ‘Leastways, nobody’s saying if they do,’ she added meaningfully.

  Simmy was between the woman and her fiancé and caught the full impact of the look and the words. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded, before Chris could speak.

  ‘Just what I say, no more and no less.’ She got awkwardly to her feet, testing the sore knee before requiring it to take any weight. ‘No offence intended.’

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ said Ben. ‘We really appreciate it enormously. It must seem odd, the way we ask all these questions. You see—’

  ‘It doesn’t seem odd at all,’ said Daphne. ‘Not after Corinne
explained it all. Says you’ve got a lot more sense than the police.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Ben, as a new thought struck him. ‘We should have warned you that we might be telling them some of what you said to us. They might want you to give them a statement. Would that be a problem for you?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ she twinkled. ‘It would be a very interesting experience, I’m sure. In fact, I was thinking they’d been very slack not to come to me already.’

  Ben and Bonnie both laughed, while Simmy and Christopher sat hand in hand, with no trace of amusement on their faces.

  Half an hour later, they were all in the middle of Ambleside, having decided that a drink and perhaps a bar snack would go down well. Simmy tried to explain how she and Chris had decided to join the others at Waterhead, but she kept being interrupted. Ben was rehearsing his renewed theories, based on what Daphne had said. Bonnie was chiming in with suggestions and questions. The sky had darkened with thick cloud, and people were disappearing from the streets.

  ‘We have nearly the whole picture,’ Ben gloated. ‘Just let me write it down and I bet everything will come clear.’

  ‘In your dreams,’ snapped Christopher. ‘She didn’t give a single name that could conceivably be the person who did it. She just rambled on about dead husbands and how lonely she is. Total waste of time, if you ask me. And now she’s going to tell everyone she’s been helping the famous Ben Harkness with his clever detective work. That’s all she was out for, in the first place.’

  ‘Come on, Chris,’ Simmy reproached him. ‘That’s not fair. You were quite happy to come and hear what she was going to say, after all.’

  ‘Was I? Did I have a choice? It’s the same as it’s been all week – dragging me into all this game-playing, without telling me what’s going on. Did you see the look that woman gave me? Made me wish I’d stayed in Keswick, well out of all this.’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’

  It was Bonnie who spoke. Like an angry Yorkshire terrier, she placed herself squarely in front of the man and harangued him. ‘What’s the matter with you, anyway? This is much more your business than any of ours. We’re doing everything we can to help you, you stupid man. That “look”, as you call it, was only what a lot of people are thinking – including the police. Can’t you see that? There’s nobody else half as suspicious as the person who says he found the body. Especially in this case, where the only other obvious person has a solid alibi. And now Ben’s got some leads, something to go on that will very likely get everything sorted – and all you can do is moan. Honestly! There’s gratitude for you.’