Murder at the Old Abbey

by Pippa McCathie

  His friend frowned and pursed his lips. “Look, Matt, I may be over-reacting, but I’m not entirely happy about the pathology results we got after tests done on Caradoc Mansell. There’s nothing specific, it’s as much a gut feeling as anything, but it’s ringing alarm bells for me.”

  “In what way?”

  “The thing is” – he leant forward, his arms crossed on his desk – “when he was brought in, we did all the usual tests, it wasn’t a stroke, and his heart seemed strong enough, although the obvious conclusion was a heart attack, particularly in someone his age. But I phoned his GP, Dr Nash in Pontygwyn.”

  “I know him,” said Matt, “he’s Fabia Havard’s doctor.”

  “Ah yes, the brave Miss Havard. Anyway, I just wanted to check up if there was anything on record. He says the old boy had an ECG and comprehensive blood tests, urine checked, etc, a couple of weeks ago, something to do with his health insurance, and Dr Nash said he was fit as a fiddle, eighty going on forty was his description. I’ve had every test in the book done, and I just can’t explain exactly why he should have died.”

  “I gather you’ve asked for a post-mortem.”

  “I have.” The doctor was frowning and fiddling with a couple of pens on his desk, straightening them this way and that.

  Matt wondered what was coming. He didn’t have long to wait.

  “Recently we had a chap in from up the valleys, he’d had an accident on his farm. From what I can remember, the vet had been called in over a bull that had something or other wrong, don’t know what, and they had to sedate the animal. When the vet had filled the syringe so that he could inject this prize bull, it got agitated, and somehow the farmer got the benefit of the sedation rather than the bull. The vet should have had the antidote with him, but he didn’t.”

  “I should imagine he’s in trouble!”

  “Probably. Anyway, we managed to sort this chap out, with the help of a veterinary friend of mine, I have to admit. But the thing is, Mansell’s symptoms were identical to that farmer.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “Were they now?”

  “Yes, and that’s what made me stop and think.”

  “But didn’t it show up in the tests you did?”

  “This damn stuff disperses very quickly, but the path lab said there were small traces.”

  “That’s why you’re asking for a PM.”

  “It is, and if I hadn’t had that case recently, I don’t think I’d have reacted like this, which is disturbing. But because of it, I checked his body for puncture marks.”

  “Hari!” Matt said, eyebrows raised. “You’re turning into a detective here.”

  Hari gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. “Anyway, I did find a mark and bruising on the inside of his arm, just below the armpit, which I couldn’t really explain, and I just wanted to give you the heads up in case something comes of it.”

  Matt was suddenly serious. “As it happens, we’re investigating some of the extended family at the moment.”

  Hari’s eyebrows shot up. “What for?”

  “The daughter-in-law’s brother is staying at the Abbey and he’s got some rather dodgy friends; we’re keeping an eye on him.” He pushed himself up from his chair. “I’d be very interested in the results of the PM, but I won’t keep you any longer.”

  “I’ll give you a ring directly they come through.”

  “Thanks, Hari,” Matt said, “Give my regards to Mina and the kids, I’ll never forget that biryani she made for me, and I still haven’t returned your hospitality.”

  “Don’t worry. Maybe you could bring your girlfriend, Fabia, round next time. I’d like to meet her again.” There was a teasing light in the doctor’s eyes.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, Hari,” Matt said, a warning note in his voice.

  “No? Then you’d better get a move on before someone else snaps her up.” But he was soon serious again. “She’s a remarkable woman. I was very impressed with her strength after that attack. I hope she’s fully recovered.”

  “I think she has.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  “She told me she had nightmares for a while afterwards. She hasn’t mentioned them lately, but sometimes she seems a bit fragile in a way I’m not used to with Fabia.”

  “The physical scars fade quickly enough, Matt. It’s the mental ones that linger.”

  “I know,” Matt said.

  His tone made Hari give him a sharp glance, but he didn’t probe.

  “With you to watch out for her, I’m sure she’ll be fine; just keep a close eye,” Hari advised, his eyes serious.

  Matt realised now that he’d noticed a difference in Fabia since that dreadful time, but he had to admit he’d pushed it to the back of his mind. After all, until then they hadn’t seen each other for over two years, the changes in her could be to do with so many different factors. Maybe he should keep a closer eye on her, if she’d let him; he must think about it.

  “Give her my regards,” Hari said, the twinkle back in his eye.

  “I will,” Matt replied and escaped before his friend could do any more probing about Fabia.

  Chapter 7

  In the shabby grandeur of the sitting room at White Monk Abbey, the family had gathered. They sat in stunned silence. Nonna, desperately pale, was on one of the sofas with her arm round Megan, whose eyes were swollen with crying. Rodric stood by the fireplace, his head bent and his hands thrust deep in his pockets. Delma was curled up in an armchair beside him, tense and anxious, her eyes darting between him and her brother, who stood on her other side. Mike’s face was impassive and, for once, lacked that slight sneer. The silence was interrupted by the sound of footsteps hurrying across the stone floor of the hall. With an abrupt opening of the door, David Harris strode into the room, followed by Garan Price.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” David said. Megan jumped up and ran to him and he wrapped her in his arms, held her and stroked her hair, but his eyes were on Rodric.

  “Is it true? Is he– is he dead?” Garan’s voice shook as he spoke.

  Mike frowned at Garan, obviously wondering why he was there. He opened his mouth to speak but, when he shot Delma a questioning glance, she shook her head.

  Rodric took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, Garan, it’s true. It seems it was a heart attack, at least that’s what Dr Nash thinks, but there’s going to be a post-mortem. We’ll know more once that’s done.”

  “But what I want to know is why they’re doing it,” Delma said, “he was old, it was bound to happen soon.”

  Nonna glared across at her, opened her mouth to speak, but Rodric forestalled her. “I’m not sure,” he said wearily, “Dr Nash wasn’t clear.”

  David led Megan back to the sofa and sat down beside her. “So, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes, and me,” Garan said, “he was my father as well after all.”

  This was too much for Mike. “What do you mean, your father?”

  Rodric gave him a look of acute dislike. “Garan is our half-brother. He has as much right to be here as Megan and me, a damn sight more of a right than you, that’s for sure.”

  “Rodi,” Delma protested weakly. Her husband didn’t even look at her.

  Mike held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, I’m sure – your family’s a mystery to me, mate.” He walked over to the French windows and stood looking out. His sister watched him, chewing at her bottom lip and twisting her hands in her lap.

  David looked up at Rodric. “Do we know when the post-mortem will be done?”

  “No, we don’t,” Rodric said. “And no decisions can be made about anything until we know more. Could you contact your mother and tell her? She’d want to know.”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll phone her directly I get home. She’ll be devastated, they were great friends.”

  “I know,” Rodric said, and a look was exchanged between the two men that spoke volumes. “Garan, you and Sheryl, we’ll look after things, you’re
not to worry. Until we have a better idea of what the old man’s will says, nothing changes.”

  “Why are you talking about wills already?” Megan wailed. “Father’s not even buried yet!”

  “I know, I know, but he’d been hinting lately about changing it–”

  Nonna straightened herself and got up from the sofa. “This is not a conversation to be had now. Have some respect, all of you. I’ll go and make some sandwiches and coffee. We all need to eat something.” There were murmurs of protest, but she ignored them. Megan was about to get up, but Nonna said, “No, no, you stay here with David. Delma, you can give me a hand.”

  For a moment it looked as if Delma would refuse, but one look at Nonna’s face and the protest died on her lips. “If you insist,” she said sulkily, and they left the room together.

  Mike turned from the window. “I’ll get out of your way,” he said, as if he was doing them a favour, and followed the two women.

  Garan muttered something in Welsh as he watched him go and Rodric gave a grim little smile.

  “My sentiments entirely, Garan,” he said, but the smile died a second later. “I’ve left a message for John Meredith to get back to me. I know it seems a bit early, but we do need to find out what the will says. It’s possible it was just one of Father’s wind-ups, and he’s made no changes at all, but I’ve been thinking a lot about something he said before he went up to London. We’d been arguing about the finances, yet again, and he said everything would be changing soon. His exact words were ‘There’ll be someone else for me to think about, you’ll see’, but I couldn’t get anything else out of him. It could just have been his usual– you know how he is… was.”

  Megan made a small sound of protest and Rodric turned to her, his tone harsh. “For goodness sake, Meggie, face facts, Father wasn’t the easiest person in the world.”

  She looked at him and tears filled her eyes, then she turned her face into David’s shoulder and began to sob.

  * * *

  “But I can’t believe it, he was so vibrant, so alive.” Anjali looked across the kitchen table at Fabia. There were no tears, but her eyes were bleak.

  “I know, but he was eighty, a good age.”

  They sat in silence for a while then Anjali said, sadness in her voice, “I was looking forward so much to getting to know him, and the rest of his family, although they might not have been very pleased to meet me. Oh dear, I’ll have to tell my mother, she’ll be very sad about it.” A moment later she added, “I suppose I might as well go back to London. I doubt they’ll want me hanging around at a time like this. The trouble is, John Meredith told me he changed his will after he found out about me.”

  “So I gathered, although he didn’t tell me exactly what changes Caradoc made.” Fabia looked across the table at her, an enquiring eyebrow raised.

  But Anjali said, “Nor me.”

  “I’m sure John will contact you soon,” Fabia reassured her, then she went on, a little hesitantly, “I was wondering– look, tell me to shut up if you don’t want to talk about it, but how did Caradoc find out about you after all these years?”

  Anjali smiled a little. “That was down to the determination of two particular people. My grandfather’s batman; that is the right word, isn’t it?”

  Fabia nodded.

  “And his daughter. His name was Dewi – is that the right way to pronounce it?”

  “It is.”

  “Dewi Jenkyns,” Anjali went on. “He kept contact with my grandmother on behalf of my grandfather for a while after Caradoc was sent back to the UK in disgrace. As I told you last night, that happened when their relationship was discovered. It seems Caradoc–” She paused, mid-sentence. “I really feel I ought to call him Grandfather. Caradoc was what we decided on when we met, but now, oh dear, what should I do?”

  “I think Grandfather would be fine, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

  Anjali gave her a grateful smile, then went on with her story. “My grandfather told me when we met that he decided that he’d best stop trying to keep the contact going, he said he thought it would be better for my grandmother if he cut the ties. I find it hard to believe he could think that, but I hardly knew him so– anyway Dewi didn’t agree, in fact they fell out because of it. Dewi continued to correspond with my grandmother and she sent him photos of my mother over the years.”

  “So, he got in touch with you.”

  “No, he died about 15 years ago. But when he died all his letters and photos were packed away by his daughter, Branwyn; then recently, because she was moving house I think, she decided to go through her father’s papers. He kept diaries occasionally, not all the time, but enough for her to find quite a lot of information from them, and there were also letters from Grandfather to Dewi, and some letters he’d kept from my grandmother. It was Branwyn who did the research and finally got in touch with my mother. And since I was planning to come to London, I wrote to my grandfather. Maman wasn’t so sure, but I was determined. He and I sent e-mails to each other for a few weeks, then he asked to meet me when I arrived.”

  “And have you met Branwyn?”

  “No, but I’ve spoken to her on the phone, she sounds nice. She lives in Swansea. That’s quite near here, isn’t it?”

  “Not that far, just down the end of the M4.” Fabia smiled and sat forward, her arms folded on the table. “We could drive down there and meet up with her, if you like.”

  Anjali’s face lit up. “I’d love that. Would you mind?”

  “Absolutely not,” Fabia grinned at her. “I am the nosiest person I know, I’d love to. We can do that before you go back to London.”

  * * *

  Delma was desperate to be on her own, to escape, particularly from her brother. She just couldn’t face him at the moment. No-one seemed to care about her, it was all so unfair. She hurried through the main hall towards the stairs but, just as she got to the first step, Mike strode in from the courtyard.

  “Delma,” he said, his voice low. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Not now, Mike, please.”

  “Now,” he snapped. Grabbing her wrist, he dragged her after him round behind the staircase and into a small room at the back of the hall. This had been Elizabeth’s private sanctuary and, since her death, was hardly used. It smelt musty and, with its mixture of old-fashioned furniture and patches on the wall where pictures had once hung, it had a gloomy, un-lived in atmosphere.

  Mike went over to the window and pushed back the curtains, they billowed dust, but neither of them noticed. He turned to glare at his sister. “We’ve got to get our stories straight, make sure we’re on the same page.”

  Delma was still standing by the door, rubbing at her bruised wrist. “What do you mean?” She knew, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

  “Don’t act stupid.” He strode towards her and she backed away until she could go no further, pressed against the panelling of the door. The handle dug into her back.

  He lifted a hand, and she forced herself not to flinch, but he only leant it against the wall beside her. “How long do you think it’ll be before they find out what you’ve been up to? People have inventories, you know, and they’re inclined to see the light of day at times like this. They’ll realise what’s missing soon enough, bound to.”

  “No, no, I was really careful.”

  “What about that silver?”

  “Rodi understood, I explained.”

  “Yea, yea, but there’s the rest, won’t be long before that’s discovered.”

  “It was you that–”

  “Keep your voice down.” He slapped a hand across her mouth, and she made a tiny sound of protest, then was still. After a few seconds that felt like long, drawn-out minutes to Delma, he took his hand away. “You’re going to have to put some story together, tell that bloody useless husband of yours that you suspect some kid from the village has been pilfering stuff, that you’ve seen them prowling around. I don’t care what you say, just think of something.”
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  “He won’t believe me,” she protested. “No petty thief is going to steal the stuff you’ve taken.”

  “I’ve taken? Don’t you start that. Anyway, you’ll just have to convince him. It was you who needed the dosh, so it’s up to you to sort it.”

  “I know I couldn’t have bought that colt without the extra, but we both needed the money,” she hissed, “you know that.”

  He ignored this. “You seem to think those horses are the only thing that matters. What the hell would it matter if the old man had got rid of the stables? It wouldn’t have affected us.”

  “But, Mike, it would. I’ve put everything into building them up. It’s one of the only parts of the estate that’s got the potential to make good money. But I desperately need more funds, especially now Ted Marsden’s expanding.”

  “And that’s why I helped you out.”

  “I know, but I need more.” She flinched at the expression on his face, but went on, determined to convince him. “That’s why I persuaded Rodi to agree to the filming. Think of it. We could afford to extend, buy in some really top-class stallions.”

  But all he did was sneer at her. “You just don’t get it, do you? I couldn’t care a sod about your bloody horses. I helped out because it worked for me. If anyone gets suspicious, I’ll tell them you’re as deep in this as me.”

  “Mike.” It was a whisper of sound. “You can’t, you wouldn’t. It was you, I did it for you as well.”

  His hand came down on her shoulder, gripped it hard. She winced.

  “Of course you did – I don’t think.” But suddenly his attitude changed. He stepped back and thrust his hands into his pockets. “That idiot sister-in-law of yours, dragging the police into this mess. What possessed her?”

  “I don’t know,” Delma said, relieved that his attention was on someone else. “She panicked or something, typical of her.” It felt better to be united in their contempt for Megan, but that unity didn’t last.

  “So, you get that story sorted. And if questions start being asked about why I’m here, you’re to say it’s brotherly love. Understand? I want to be with my little sister.”