The Last Mrs. Summers

by Rhys Bowen

  “No matter. Just a routine check. And I’d like to test how easy it is to hear through the walls.”

  I waited while they rummaged around in my room, then he sent a younger sergeant to speak, then shout in Belinda’s room. I was delighted to observe that they could hear nothing until the loudest shout.

  “The walls are pretty darned thick here, aren’t they, sir?” the young sergeant said, returning.

  “They seem to be,” the inspector admitted. He turned back to me. “We won’t trouble you any longer, my lady. We’re off for a cup of tea.”

  I took a handkerchief from the top drawer, made as if I was straightening items they had moved during their search and as soon as they were safely far away, I slipped into Belinda’s room. The first thing that greeted me was a blast of cold air. The window was wide-open. That was interesting as I didn’t think Belinda was usually the hearty type who slept with her window open in bad weather—unlike my own experience growing up at Castle Rannoch where windows were open in blizzards. Tony’s body had now been covered with a white sheet. I could just make out the shape. I went over to the bed and lifted the sheet a little, shuddering at the sight of his body, so white and cold. His eyes had now been shut but his hair, apparently washed during his bath, had gone into attractive blond curls.

  Such a waste, I found myself thinking. Tony Summers, who clearly loved life, lying there dead. And who could possibly benefit? Rose had lost a husband and would have no one to run the estate. She might well sell up and then Mrs. Mannering and the staff would be out of a job. Belinda’s uncle Francis did seem like the best bet. With Tony dead perhaps mooring rates would go back to their old level. I tiptoed over to the window and looked down. There was a sturdy creeper growing up the wall. Had someone dared to climb in or out during last night’s storm? That indicated a very foolhardy and reckless person.

  I glanced out. There was a flower bed immediately below the window, then an area of gravel with lawns leading to a kitchen garden on one side and the more wooded part of the estate. Somewhere among those woods was the strange little dell that led down to the beach. I thought how easy it would be for someone to move around hidden on this estate, apart from the last part of crossing the lawn. But on a blustery night who would have looked out of a window?

  It was still raining and I stepped back from the window before I got too wet. There was a puddle on the parquet floor. Mrs. Mannering wouldn’t be too pleased about that! I moved quickly over to the bed and went through the bedclothes on the floor. A top sheet, two blankets and an eiderdown. No dressing gown. If Tony had come to the room wearing his robe, then it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I tried to picture him sprinting down the hall with wet hair, stark naked. It seemed unlikely, to say the least.

  An idea was beginning to form in my head. I checked the floor and walls around the bed. There was no trace of blood that I could see on the light rug, apart from where the knife had fallen and Belinda had picked it up. That was strange. Surely Tony couldn’t have been stabbed while he was lying down? If he had been on the bed, waiting for Belinda, and someone else had come into the room, wouldn’t he have jumped up, wrestled the intruder for the knife? It was just possible that he had fallen asleep. He had, after all, consumed quite a large amount of alcohol, as had we all. But if he had been awake, how had the intruder managed to stab him without getting any blood spatters anywhere in the room? I had seen stabbings before (yes, I know, I have led a rather strange life in recent years) and they were quite messy.

  This led me to wonder: had he actually been killed somewhere else and brought here, arranged on Belinda’s bed to incriminate her? What if he had been stabbed in the bathroom? In the actual bathtub? I crept out of the room, checking the surroundings before I went along the corridor in the direction of where I suspected Tony’s bathroom would be. As I went I examined the floor for any spots of blood. I found none. When I reached the end of the hall I opened doors and found to my annoyance that there was no other bathroom accessible from the corridor apart from the one that Belinda and I used. That must mean that Tony’s bathroom was entered from their bedroom at the far end of the hallway. And Rose was still in bed. How annoying. I tried to think of an excuse to go in—wanting to see how she was? But I realized she probably wouldn’t want to see me, given her outburst of accusation directed at Belinda the night before. I’d have to wait until she got up. And it was quite possible that the bathroom had already been cleaned.

  I thought of that open window in Belinda’s bedroom. Uncle Francis was rather portly. Could he have climbed in or out? In the middle of a storm? It did stretch the imagination. The only person I could think of who had proven himself to be opportunistic was the enigmatic Jago. He had already entered someone’s home by way of a cave in the rocks. He was working for a man whose dealings were described as underhanded, and he and Tony had had some sort of run-in recently. Had Tony discovered that Jago was helping to smuggle something, maybe weapons, and Jago had to silence him? I could picture Jago stabbing someone, but why would he deliberately incriminate Belinda? He seemed rather attracted to her.

  The other explanation that I didn’t want to delve into was that Tony was lying on Belinda’s bed, relaxed and waiting for her to get into bed beside him. And instead she picked up a dagger she had brought from downstairs and stabbed him. But why would she ever do that? Because he had deceived her and married Jonquil? Because she was now angry with all men and the way they treated her? Golly, I hoped that wasn’t true.

  Chapter 21

  OCTOBER 18

  TREWOMA

  This is the most puzzling murder I have ever seen. I’m praying the inspector from Scotland Yard finds the truth quickly and we can go home. And I’m really hoping that the truth does not involve Belinda!

  Defeated, I went back downstairs. When I had a chance I’d question the servants. Someone must have cleaned that bathroom this morning. I’d have to find out which maid was responsible. Unfortunately as in any well-run household one hardly ever saw servants. Mrs. Mannering brought in the tray of coffee herself. A footman helped to serve the meals but fires were magically stoked, curtains drawn and floors swept when we were not around.

  By midafternoon the fog had lifted. “Do you feel like getting some fresh air?” I asked Belinda.

  “I don’t know if I’m allowed to leave the house,” she said. “I’m the prime suspect, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t be silly. Nobody could prevent you from going for a walk in the grounds. And besides, I think the inspector and his team have already left. I don’t hear voices, do you?”

  Belinda got up. “It might be a good idea. I’ll go mad if I have to sit here any longer.”

  We reached the foyer and were about to open the coat cupboard under the stairs when Mrs. Mannering appeared in that unnerving way she had. “You young ladies are not thinking of going out, I hope?”

  “Just for a walk in the grounds,” I said. “Miss Belinda is upset and needs fresh air.”

  She frowned. “Well, I suppose a walk in the grounds can do no harm, but the inspector was quite insistent that nobody was to leave the property.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not about to run away,” Belinda said. We retrieved our outdoor things and went out into afternoon sunshine.

  “Not that way,” Belinda said as I headed for the right. “That leads to the cliffs. I don’t want to be reminded where Jonquil died.” She turned to me. “Georgie, do you think there is a curse associated with this house?”

  “I certainly don’t think that some malevolent spirit pushed Jonquil or stabbed Tony,” I said. “Frankly I don’t know what to think. Rose tells us that she suspects Tony pushed Jonquil and now wants to kill her. I don’t know where she got that idea from, but now Tony is dead, not Rose.”

  “What do you think she wanted to achieve by telling us what she suspected about Tony? Do you think she really believed he wanted to kill her? Did she want wit
nesses to say she feared for her own life in case she was accused of his death?”

  I shrugged. “I thought she was just being overdramatic at the time. Living cut off from the world she knew in a house like Trewoma can certainly play tricks on the mind. She is suddenly mistress of a big house, with a housekeeper who clearly disapproves of her. She’s lost a baby recently. She is lonely without any friends or family. Personally I tend to believe that Jonquil’s death was a tragic accident and that Tony inviting Rose to sail or ride horses was just trying to get her to embrace her new lifestyle.”

  “So you don’t think she killed him?” Belinda asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how she could have. Besides, you saw her face when she realized he had been killed. She was shocked and then angry, and I don’t believe she was acting.”

  We had reached the entrance to the little dell and the path that ran down to the beach.

  “Shall we go down here again?” Belinda said. “It was quite interesting, wasn’t it? And we didn’t have a proper chance to examine the plants once Rose started pouring out her secrets to us.”

  “All right,” I said, with a slight hesitation. I was remembering those huge leaves, like giant food trays, looming over us in such a strangely menacing way. But I followed as she started down the narrow path. The little stream had increased in size from last night’s rain and now rushed and tumbled over rocks, overflowing its banks in places. The air smelled damp and heavy, like going through a tropical greenhouse. It felt hard to breathe.

  Suddenly I thought I heard a movement behind us, maybe the crack of a twig or the swish of a branch. I touched Belinda’s arm. “Someone is following us,” I whispered.

  Belinda turned and stared. We both waited, holding our breaths. I didn’t want to say that I thought it was stupid to come down here in the first place when there was a killer on the loose. I looked around for a weapon—a rock from the streambed? A dead branch?

  Then there was a flapping and a pigeon flew out of a bush. Belinda looked at me and we exchanged a relieved smile.

  All the same I was glad when we saw the glint of water ahead of us and came down the steps to the little beach. Except there wasn’t much beach to be seen. The tide was now coming in and the water lapped at the cliffs on either side, leaving just a few feet of shingle between us and the steps. We could see the green slopes of the opposite shore, but the cliffs of the little bay cut off the view up or down the estuary. It felt horribly hemmed in and wasn’t a pleasant place to linger.

  A fishing boat passed, returning with a catch and followed by seagulls. Then another boat came into view, sailing out from somewhere near us and heading across to the far side of the estuary. It was a small yacht, towing a rowing boat behind it. There was one man at the tiller.

  “Isn’t that Jago?” Belinda asked.

  “It looks like him,” I agreed.

  He had his back to us and was soon lost to view.

  “Up to no good again,” Belinda said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “That’s what Tony thought, wasn’t it?” Belinda said. “He thought this foreign man got his money through illegal means and Jago was his willing henchman.” She broke off. “Oh gosh, Georgie. What if Tony found out what was going on and Jago silenced him? It would be so easy to moor the boat, come ashore in the rowing boat . . .”

  “Hold on a minute.” I held up a hand to stop her. “That really is leaping to conclusions. How on earth would Jago know where to find Tony? Or where to find the dagger? And why stab him in your bedroom? He’s clearly interested in you. . . .”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She turned red. “He’s a natural flirt.”

  “Anyway, if Jago wanted to kill him it wouldn’t be in that dramatic fashion. It would be a knife in the back where nobody could see and then his body taken out to sea and dumped.”

  Belinda nodded. “Yes, that does make sense. I’m so desperate to find someone who might have a good reason to want Tony dead. Oh, I do hope they’ve nabbed Uncle Francis. I am tempted to just jump in my little sports car and drive back to London as fast as possible.”

  “Don’t do that, please,” I said. “It wouldn’t look good if you ran away at this moment.”

  “No, you’re right.” She nodded. She turned to go up the steps, then she shrank back and grabbed my arm.

  “You were right. Someone is watching us.”

  “Where?”

  “I saw a movement behind those bushes.”

  I had had enough of suspicion and drama. Had Mrs. Mannering sent one of the servants to keep an eye on us? Or perhaps one of the policemen?

  “Come out and show yourself,” I said in my loudest voice. Instead of echoing, it fell flat in the heavy air of the dell. “If you don’t come out, I’ll go and report you to the policeman who is up at the house.”

  There was blundering among the bushes and the old man who had given me directions appeared, looking flustered.

  “I weren’t doing no harm,” he said. “Don’t you go setting the police on me, missy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, gently now, because he looked really agitated. “I just thought that someone was spying on us.”

  “Them policemen who came to the house,” he said. “They weren’t looking for me, were they? I didn’t mean no harm.”

  “No, they weren’t looking for you,” Belinda said. “Why, what have you done?”

  “I didn’t mean no harm by it, did I? It was there. No one wanted it.” He looked warily around. “She said she’d have the police on me and they’d lock me up,” he said, sounding close to tears. “But I never said nothing, I promise. I told her I wouldn’t and I didn’t. Even though I saw what I saw. . . . But when those policemen came today, I thought . . .”

  “There’s been a death at the house,” Belinda said. “Nothing to do with you.”

  “A death? Accidental, you mean? Not another . . .”

  “Another murder?” I asked.

  He shot me a look of pure panic. “I didn’t say nothing.” And he turned and blundered back into the bushes, leaving us alone.

  “That was strange,” Belinda said. “I wonder what he knows. He was really frightened, wasn’t he? I wonder why someone threatened to call the police on him in the first place.”

  “Do you think he saw Tony push Jonquil?” Belinda asked. “He said he saw what he saw. He’s skulking around the grounds all the time.”

  “But he said ‘her,’ not ‘him,’ didn’t he?”

  “You know how it is in Cornwall,” Belinda said. “They get their pronouns muddled up all the time. And inanimate objects are given a sex too.”

  “All the same . . .” My brain was examining various possibilities. It was more likely that he had seen Jonquil with one of her lovers. Didn’t someone mention something about docking a boat and Jonquil going down to join him for the night? Seeing them would have shocked an old countryman like him. And Jonquil might have threatened him if he told Tony.

  We returned to the house to find that tea had been laid out in the gallery. There was no sign of the policemen nor of Rose. The fresh air had given both of us the appetite we had lacked all day and I noticed that Belinda set upon the watercress sandwiches and slices of plum cake as readily as I did. The time was approaching when one would normally go up to change for dinner.

  “What do you think we should do?” I asked Belinda. “I am certainly not going to wear Jonquil’s evening dress tonight. If Rose is not coming down, why don’t we ask Mrs. Mannering if we can just have a simple supper instead of a formal meal?”

  “Oh yes. Good idea,” Belinda said. She walked toward the bellpull, and was reaching up when a voice from the doorway said, “May I assist you young ladies with something?”

  And Mrs. Mannering stood there, impassive as ever.

  She came into the room. “Mrs. Summers ha
s requested a tray in her room tonight. That being so, might I suggest that you do not change for dinner, but that I serve a simple supper—some soup, cold meats, pickles and a pudding?”

  “Thank you. What a good idea,” Belinda said.

  Mrs. Mannering gave her customary little bow and retreated. The moment she had gone Belinda turned to me. “Do you think she was outside the door listening, or does she just read our minds? She really is the most unnerving woman I have ever come across. I bet she really is a witch.”

  “Shh, if she hears you she might turn you into a frog,” I whispered.

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Belinda retorted. “In fact nothing that happened in this house would ever surprise me again.”

  Chapter 22

  OCTOBER 18, LATE EVENING

  TREWOMA, CORNWALL

  Still waiting for the inspector from Scotland Yard. It feels like waiting for doom to fall.

  I was just thinking that I was feeling a little peckish when there was a loud knocking on the front door. Belinda reached out and grabbed my hand. “Don’t leave me, Georgie,” she whispered.

  “Of course not.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  We heard voices, but after a long pause there was still no sign of a visiting inspector. I motioned to Belinda to stay put and I went down the hall, around the corner and to the foyer. Mrs. Mannering was standing at the top of the stairs and I could hear male voices coming from farther down the corridor, presumably from Belinda’s bedroom. The inspector was viewing the crime scene for himself.

  I went back to Belinda. “I think you and I should request some dinner first, don’t you? We need to fortify ourselves before the interrogation.”

  “How can you think of food at a time like this?” Belinda asked. “I don’t think I could swallow a morsel.”

  I felt that I could swallow quite a few morsels. “A little soup, perhaps. You should eat something.”