Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  Clifford nodded. ‘So, I believe we can conclude that Mr Eden would have deduced you would have worked out the Indian connection among his clues. And that you would therefore have also made the link between the Pavilion and the Chattri at some point, my lady.’

  She nodded. ‘And Hilary was out from morning to evening the day before he was killed. He could have made it to the Chattri and back in that time.’ She glanced around. ‘It’s probably best for us to go after dark, I’d say. It’s too easy to be seen and followed during the day.’

  ‘Indeed, but at night it is equally hard to spot someone following you. Plus the only access is by a rough track according to the gentleman’s account, which at night—’

  She held up a hand. ‘If you mention the word “prudence”, I shall scream so shrill you will wish Esme, Ophelia and whoever the other girl was were your company for the evening.’

  ‘Very good, my lady. Although if I might caution—’

  ‘No, Clifford. You may not. Instead, after we’ve nipped back to the hotel for a layer of warmer underthings, you can find us somewhere discreet where we can indulge in some much-needed fortification while we wait until night falls.’

  Forty

  The Metropole’s bar hummed with busy chatter. With that night’s clientele being mostly male, Eleanor’s arrival turned even more heads than usual. She felt the bore of several appraising looks follow her rear view all the way to the table she chose in the furthest corner. Flattered, but not in the mood, she slid into one of the low seats facing the enormous windows.

  Clifford joined her, having sorted their coats and drinks order.

  ‘Let’s hope we’re both feeling razor sharp,’ she said as she smoothed her notebook open. ‘I brought the list you wrote out on our walk back too.’

  ‘I might be incorrect, my lady, but I believe we may not need it.’

  She caught her breath. ‘What? You mean you’ve worked out the last clue, “something old”?’

  ‘Possibly. I’m hopeful my suggestion will strike a chord with you.’

  ‘Well, don’t dance round the bushes. Out with it. I’m on tenterhooks.’

  Before he could speak, a rather over-enthusiastic waiter appeared with their drinks. She waved away the appetiser menu he offered. Then had to bite her tongue as he started to walk them through the hotel’s planned entertainment for the evening.

  ‘We shan’t be staying,’ Clifford cut in. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘So?’ she hissed as soon as they were alone again. ‘What made you think of the answer?’

  ‘Tolstoy, my lady.’

  She frowned. ‘We haven’t got time for riddles.’

  ‘Agreed. Perhaps therefore if I might be allowed to answer your question?’ At the flap of her hand, he continued. ‘I was waiting to meet you in the lobby of the Grand while running back and forth over the ideas we had for the last clue. Then Miss Summers emerged from the lift and I was reminded of a line from Anna Karenina.’

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. ‘Clifford, really, I don’t want to hear that even you have fallen for Miss Summers’ curves.’

  He tutted. ‘My lady, nothing could be further from the thought that struck me as she passed.’

  ‘Oops, sorry. It’s still eating me up that I don’t know the truth about her and Hilary.’

  ‘Understandably. However, the point is, I was reminded of your telling me how Miss Summers had been staring so intently at you over breakfast recently. And it brought to mind the lines where Anna Karenina is appraising the looks of Liza Merkalova.’

  Eleanor shrugged, not having made it past the first few chapters of the novel despite it being part of her English Literature lessons years ago at school. ‘What does Anna Karenina say?’

  ‘It is not what she says, it is what she thinks about Liza. “There was in her the glow of the real diamond among glass imitations.”’ He sat back in his seat.

  ‘Dash it. Clifford. You’re making me feel like a complete dunce. What am I missing?’

  He stayed silent, holding her stare.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to play ga—’ But then her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my!’

  He nodded.

  ‘Diamonds,’ she whispered. ‘The “something old” refers to diamonds!’

  He nodded again. ‘Diamonds are one of the oldest minerals on earth. And South African diamond mines control around ninety per cent of the world’s production. However, I cannot be certain.’

  ‘I can.’

  He looked at her quizzically. In a trice, he produced a pristine handkerchief, then busied himself aligning his glass with the very centre of the bar mat underneath.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered through a large sniff.

  ‘No, my sincerest of apologies, my lady. I had no idea that suggestion might upset you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Of course you couldn’t possibly have known. Oh, Clifford, I’ve been a total dunce on that score. It’s so obvious now.’ She wiped her eyes and fiddled with the handkerchief. ‘Actually, I know I buried the memory because it is the polar opposite of how things turned out.’

  He waited as she took a large swig of her drink and then wiped her eyes again.

  ‘Our marriage was a simple affair with two witnesses we’d talked into coming along as neither of us had any family out in South Africa.’ She smiled at him apologetically. ‘I didn’t invite Uncle Byron because I was afraid he would disapprove, seeing as Hilary and I had only met for the first time a matter of months before. And the wedding was a spur-of-the-moment decision, anyway. He would have missed it, seeing as it took me forty-five days to travel from Cape Town to London by air! In retrospect, I’d have been better going overland.’

  Clifford gave her a rare smile. ‘His lordship always said your affairs of the heart would likely be the end of him. But he would have crawled all the way on his knees if it meant he could have given you away at the altar.’

  ‘I realise that now, but as you know my relationship with Uncle Byron back then was a little… distant. And I wish you had been there too, truly. But if you had both been there, you would have heard what Hilary declared to the room just before we exchanged vows.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That he was the happiest man alive and wanted nothing more than to grow old with the woman before him who…’ She swallowed hard. ‘… would still be the most beautiful diamond ever created when she was old too.’

  ‘A wonderful sentiment, my lady. One better remembered than buried, perhaps? And not because of our investigation.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll let you know later.’

  ‘I appreciate you having shared your memory, my lady. I wonder, do you have the fortitude for some more information I gleaned?’

  She took a much-needed sip of her drink and nodded.

  ‘Very good. After I had the revelation that the “something old” might be diamonds, I visited the hotel’s library, which is the room we interviewed Mr Franklin in recently. Among other items, it holds copies of The Times, the Guardian and the local newspaper, the Brighton Gazette. They are ironed and then meticulously filed in date order.’

  She laughed. ‘I bet you were in neat-and-tidy heaven rifling through them, weren’t you?’

  He adjusted his tie. ‘I did not “rifle”, my lady. I was methodical in my search because I had discovered another fact about the Pavilion.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘That amongst the various uses to which the building has been put, its time as a hospital for wounded Indian soldiers was not the only occasion it was “borrowed”. Shortly afterwards, between 1916 and 1920, it was used to treat British soldiers, notably those who had suffered the loss of a limb or limbs.’

  ‘Oh goodness, those poor men.’

  ‘Indeed. After treatment and a programme of rehabilitation, a local trust worked hard to secure employment for them. This became a great deal easier from 1917 when the philanthropist, Mr Bernard Oppenheimer, established a six-month scheme to train them in the art of… diamond cutting!’

&
nbsp; Eleanor’s mouth dropped. ‘What? Here in Brighton?’

  ‘Here, as you say, in Brighton. The Bernard Oppenheimer Diamond Works opened the following year, and all the soldiers leaving the Pavilion’s temporary hospital were guaranteed employment at a good wage. The factory even houses a clinic to continue to care for the men.’

  She shook her head. ‘How wonderful that someone was looking out for those who fought for their country.’ Her eyes widened. ‘That’s it! It’s been nagging at my mind. When we talked to Longley, he said when he and Blunt learned that Hilary had booked a ticket to England, they thought he was just fleeing his enemies. But when they tracked him to Brighton—’

  ‘“Then it all made sense.” Well remembered, my lady.’

  Something else tugged at her brain. ‘And perhaps that’s what de Meyer meant when he said the item was valuable to the “right person”? Most of us wouldn’t know what to do with a… well, handful of rough diamonds, I suppose. But a diamond cutter! So it seems the mystery of what everyone is after and why Hilary chose Brighton out of all the towns in England is solved.’

  ‘It seems so, my lady.’

  ‘And you know what else? I bet de Meyer’s employers own a South African diamond mine.’ She shook her head again. ‘Poor Hilary, killed for a bag of rocks! Such a senseless waste. I—’ Her eye caught Clifford’s. There was a look in them she’d only seen twice before. ‘What is it, Clifford? You look uncharacteristically worried?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘When the revelation that the “something old” might refer to diamonds, I confess my heart sank. And, in truth, I hoped you would dismiss it out of hand as meaning nothing to you, or Mr Eden.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because ruthless people have killed to possess diamonds for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I said several days ago that if we were to possess the mysterious item, the murderer would come to us for sure, hence my heightened concerns for your safety.’

  She folded her arms. ‘We’re still going out there.’

  ‘I knew that would be your response. But, my lady—’

  ‘But nothing. You’d have to lock me in the trunk of the Rolls to stop me going to the Chattri tonight.’

  ‘I confess that idea did occur,’ he said without humour.

  ‘As always your solicitude is greatly appreciated. However, we can’t tell the police because Grimsdale will just arrest us on the spot for withholding evidence. And consorting with known criminals and goodness’ knows what else. Besides, he’s cocksure he has Hilary’s murderer under lock and key. He wouldn’t listen to a word we said.’ She rose, downing the last of her drink. ‘But enough fortitude. Let’s go and get ready.’

  For once, Clifford failed to follow suit and remained sitting. Slowly, she sat back down and nodded to him to continue. He cleared his throat again.

  ‘My lady, I’m not sure you realise that if there is a single diamond, let alone a handful, hidden at the Chattri, it will bring out every cutthroat from here to Cape Town. We have faced some dangerous adversaries in the past, but I have always been confident that we could defeat them as we usually have an idea of who we were dealing with. And’ – he looked at her pointedly – ‘a plan.’

  She nodded. ‘I understand what you’re saying and I’m not suggesting that we don’t take precautions. I may be a little… headstrong now and then, but I’m not suicidal. I’ll take your advice and—’ A commotion a few tables away interrupted her. Two men were greeting each other like long-lost relatives. Once they’d quietened down and wandered over to the bar, arms around each other’s shoulders, she turned back to Clifford, a glint in her eyes.

  ‘Actually, Clifford, you are wrong on two counts.’

  He cocked his head and waited for her to continue.

  ‘Firstly, we know exactly who we’re dealing with.’

  The look of surprise on the face of her normally inscrutable butler made her smile, despite the gravity of their conversation.

  ‘You mean, my lady, you’ve worked out—?’

  She nodded and rose again. This time he did the same.

  As they walked out into the gathering gloom, he coughed. ‘And the second point I was wrong about?’

  ‘The plan.’

  ‘Ah! So we have a plan, my lady?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘but we will have.’

  Forty-One

  In the dark, the car swept round the last bend, before slowing down to walking pace and pulling off the road through a gap in the bushes. It bumped along for a few feet, its headlights illuminating the wildly swaying gorse. Then the engine stopped, and the headlights cut out. Darkness returned.

  Through the windscreen, Eleanor could just make out black clouds scudding across the dark sky. As the clouds passed in front of the waning moon, they were briefly illuminated, like a fox caught in a car’s headlights, before once more fading into the inky background.

  ‘The Rolls should be reasonably hidden from the road here, my lady,’ Clifford said. ‘From now on, we are on foot.’

  Eleanor nodded and took a deep breath. Come on, Ellie, one way or another, you’ll have the answer before the night’s out.

  They walked along the road in silence, buffeted by the wind. After a couple of minutes, they picked out the beginning of the path to the Chattri. Clifford clicked on his torch, but kept it pointing downwards.

  ‘The height and thickness of the gorse should largely obscure the torchlight from a distance. It is a risk, but one I feel we need to make.’

  As they set off up the rough track Eleanor wanted to believe it was the glacial wind that was making her shiver. But she knew it was Clifford’s words in the Metropole bar. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gust so strong, it pushed her into him.

  ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ he said, keeping his voice low.

  ‘Not your fault, Clifford. I didn’t come prepared for a pitched battle with nature either.’

  He cleared his throat quietly. ‘Hopefully, my lady, you didn’t come prepared for a pitched battle with anything or anyone. I do not remember it being in our plan?’

  Her determined smile was lost in the darkness. ‘Don’t worry, Clifford, I don’t intend to fight—’ She stifled a cry of pain as sharp gorse whipped against her face like the vicious lash of a hunting crop. ‘Anything except this wretched stuff! Let’s get going.’

  The surveyor had been right. The path was nothing more than a rutted track. Clinging to the side of a vast chalk hill of the South Downs, it was barely wide enough for the two of them to stumble along. To their left, the ground fell away steeply as they wound their way uphill. Sharp flints tripped them up, while water-filled potholes soaked their feet.

  ‘How much further do you think it is?’ she said as Clifford paused beside her.

  He examined the compass he was carrying by the torchlight. The pale-orange light lit his face with a ghostly glow. He turned a few degrees left then right before pointing off to one side.

  ‘This is where the track seems to turn briefly away from due north. I believe the Chattri is probably another ten minutes ahead.’ He took a deep breath and aimed the torch at the ground again. ‘I am still greatly perturbed, my lady.’

  She squared her shoulders. ‘Come on, Clifford. We’ve been over this a dozen times this afternoon. I told you your influence would eventually rub off, and it has. You searched Franklin’s room without a plan, and I’ve come here with a plan. You see, role reversal. I even adopted your belt and braces approach.’

  ‘Most commendable, my lady, but I fear belts and braces may be poor defences against bullets.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Now, we’d better get moving.’

  As they continued, their intention to turn off their torches while they were still a way from the Chattri proved impossible. Apart from a few fleeting moments, the cloud had thickened and now obscured the moon. The hairs on Eleanor’s arms stood up. What was that noise? Just the wind? Or…? She shook her head.
The night was dark enough, the undergrowth thick enough and the wind loud enough to hide an army of assassins following them. She grumbled under her breath as she almost turned her ankle for the umpteenth time.

  Keep it together, Ellie. We must be nearly there.

  At that moment, Clifford pointed up to the right. The clouds had parted and a white dome was visible a few hundred feet further up the hill. The Chattri. She imagined the Indian soldiers who had been cremated on that very spot and their ashes scattered in the English Channel. On a less inclement day, it would be a beautiful place. Lowering her head against the gale, she concentrated on where she was treading and soon covered the distance to the Chattri without twisting an ankle.

  As she reached the levelled ground, the enormity of the task hit her. She joined Clifford at the bottom of the twenty wide stone steps that ran up to the memorial itself and looked around in dismay. All the while her thoughts ran over and over the rhyme Hilary had inscribed on their wedding photograph. She closed her eyes. Well, I’m here, Hilary. Talk to me. But only the whistling of the wind around the Chattri’s pillars answered her.

  With no immediate inspiration, she sighed and turned to Clifford. ‘I’ll take the left side of the memorial, you take the right.’

  She started up the steps, keeping her torch close to the ground. Clifford materialised next to her, making her clutch her chest.

  ‘Forgive my contrary view, my lady, but time is likely not on our side. Perhaps the dome of the memorial itself is too obvious a place to begin looking. Would not Mr Eden have been more discreet after the lengths he took to hide the location of the object? Perhaps under the steps first?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t believe so. However reprehensible some of Hilary’s actions may turn out to have been, he understood the suffering endured by the men this memorial is dedicated to. Their cremations would probably have taken place on the three stone terraces, or ghats, either side of the steps. I simply can’t believe he was such a scoundrel as to disrespect that.’