‘She’s still bitter,’ stated Mrs Jones. ‘And probably worried about her future.’
‘But she’ll get another job, won’t she? A good one?’ Patrick asked. ‘Her story won’t follow her round. Or even if it does, do such things matter these days?’
‘In some circles,’ said Mr Jones.
‘We must hope the cruise will benefit her health, at least,’ said Mrs Jones. ‘She feels betrayed, of course.’
But who had betrayed whom? The husband did not come out of this in a good light, thought Patrick; he had behaved badly towards both his wife and Millicent.
On board again, he returned to the bridge to describe what could be seen ashore as they sailed away. Was anyone listening to him, he wondered, mentioning Chekhov; they were probably all below in the various bars.
Dinner that night was lively, though everyone had been disturbed by the lack of goods in the shops and by the street touts. Blonde Betty had bought a beautiful white shawl made of gossamer wool, so fine she thought it would pass through her wedding ring. She did not know what she would do with it, but she had wanted to buy something.
‘Did you notice that the Black Sea really is black?’ she asked. ‘The water, I mean. Is that why it’s called the Black Sea?’
None of them, not even Patrick, knew the answer to this, but he had noticed the inky colour of the water. Perhaps the sea was very deep, like Loch Ness, also inky, and perhaps it had a dark rock or shale base, he suggested. He began to look forward to seeing Homer’s wine-dark sea again, not claret-coloured, certainly, but a deep purplish hue; was wine more purple then?
Late that night he listened to the world news on his radio and there was a brief item about a man and wife found dead in their car in Sevenoaks. The man, a schoolmaster, had not been at school the previous week, off sick, it seemed. A suicide pact was suspected. The item was repeated in the morning news sheet delivered to cabins early by the steward; Patrick glanced at it, more interested in the general news.
Their next port of call was Crete. Patrick gave a morning lecture about the island, repeating it in the evening. He had good audiences at both sessions in spite of the other attractions for a day spent at sea – clay pigeon shooting, deck games, bridge or bingo, according to taste. To his surprise, Patrick saw Millicent/Vanessa at the clay pigeon shooting station by the stern, not far from where he had seen her two nights before. He watched her shatter six clays with six shots, but he went off without speaking to her, bound for the indoor pool which was larger than the one on deck. He shared it with a stout elderly lady who ignored him while she swam up and down with a steady breast-stroke, a floral bathcap on her head.
Next morning, Heraklion sparkled in the early autumn sunshine. At this time of year, rain could begin suddenly and a cloud sitting on Mount Ida was a portent of unsettled weather, but today looked set fair. Patrick hastened ashore soon after breakfast and bought several English papers, covering the past few days. He put them in the zipped case he carried with him, then took a taxi to Knossos where he spent an hour before travelling back to town by bus. He had time to fill in before he met his old friend Dimitri Manolakis[1], now retired from the police and running a security advisory service, so he sat at a table in the courtyard of the restaurant where they were to lunch together, ordered a beer, and began reading the newspapers. The world situation was what interested him, but he had been unable to get The Times except for the previous day, and the earlier papers were tabloids. In the first, on an inside page, he read an expanded account of the alleged suicide pact in Sevenoaks. There were pictures of the dead schoolmaster and his wife, and of their children, both at university. A paragraph mentioned that the schoolmaster’s name had been romantically linked with that of a former member of the staff who had sued, successfully, for wrongful dismissal. She was named.
Reading this, Patrick’s heart sank. Would Millicent/Vanessa see this? Had anyone telephoned her to tell her of her lover’s death? Was that why she had been up on deck, contemplating the ocean in what he had seen as so fatal a manner? What a dreadful business, almost a Greek tragedy. Then he wondered if other passengers would read the report and make the connection. Few would realise Vanessa Fortescue and Millicent were the same person, he decided.
She must have heard the news. It added up. Poor woman.
He turned to the later papers and from them learned that the story was more complex than had at first appeared. It wasn’t a carbon monoxide matter, using the car’s exhaust, as he had assumed; a gun had been found in the car and the police were treating the deaths as suspicious; enquiries were afoot to discover who had last seen the couple alive and if anyone had been noticed near their house or garage recently. The car, containing the bodies, had been locked in the garage.
He shivered, full of foreboding, and read the few lines The Times had chosen to print on the subject. The killer could have made the calls which gave the excuse of illness, then left to establish an alibi so that by the time the bodies were found, he could have been hundreds of miles away, beyond suspicion. Or she: the killer could have been female.
Whoever it was would have left clues: if not fingerprints, other traces which forensic scientists would discover and identify.
He spent the afternoon with Manolakis, was shown his business premises and some of the latest security devices, and exchanged news. Manolakis, once so lean, had put on weight, and his grizzled eyebrows were luxuriant.
Patrick told him about the Sevenoaks killings.
‘You can’t be sure it was an outside murder,’ said Manolakis.
‘The forensic evidence will prove it, one way or the other,’ Patrick said. ‘Is it likely that the husband, having got away with it, would turn on his wife and himself?’
‘The wife might have changed her mind about forgiving him,’ said Manolakis. His English was now very good, much better than when they last met.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Patrick. ‘Millicent Fortescue is a first-class shot. She was picking off clay pigeons on the ship like a pro.’
‘You think she did it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she was jealous,’ said Patrick.
‘Was a rifle used in Sevenoaks?’
‘I don’t know. The newspaper simply said a gun.’
‘She couldn’t have shot them in the garage. Someone would have heard.’
‘Maybe she surprised them somewhere else – on some favourite walk she knew of, for instance. Or she could have hidden in the car.’
‘And shot them at point-blank range? She’d have been covered in blood,’ said Manolakis.
‘Yes, but she could have got rid of incriminating clothes,’ said Patrick. ‘This was carefully planned. She could have trailed them, shot them when they were out walking, driven them home in their own car. She was a family friend. She’d have known about keys, and so on.’
‘They’d have been heavy for her to move.’
‘She’d have managed, if she had time in hand,’ said Patrick. ‘Jealousy is a very strong emotion.’
‘You know that, don’t you, my friend?’ said Manolakis, stroking his grey moustache.
Patrick shivered, and almost felt a wave of hatred for the Greek who, unlike himself, had not wasted time with Liz all those years ago.
‘You should find yourself a wife,’ Manolakis advised. ‘You shouldn’t lock yourself up alone in that ancient college, however grand your position is as principal.’
‘Master,’ Patrick corrected. ‘It’s too late now, Dimitri. I’m too selfish to make room in my life for someone else.’
‘Find a mistress, then,’ said Manolakis.
‘I might do that,’ said Patrick, and laughed self-consciously. But it wouldn’t do for the Master of Mark’s to lead the sort of life which could invite scandal.
Andromeda was due to sail at six o’clock. Patrick returned on board some time before that and went to have a swim. He felt troubled. Should he warn Millicent, seek her out, show her the
newspaper reports? If she was not the killer, she should be told about the deaths; if she was responsible for them, she should learn that the bodies had been found. He would think about it while he swam, letting the water ease his tensions.
He found Millicent in the pool, lying on the bottom, alone, and dead.
He got her out of the water, just in case she was still alive, but there was no life in her. He telephoned for help, then stood across the doorway of the fitness complex, a towel wrapped round him, to prevent others entering before someone in authority arrived.
They kept it very quiet. The ship’s doctor and the Chief Engineer dealt with everything, locking the pool area. Patrick watched while photographs were taken. He described how he had found her, and had seen no one else about. The doctor, looking at the dead woman’s eyes, said she might have taken sedatives before her swim, then lost consciousness and drowned.
In case she lost the will power, Patrick thought: or was she playing Russian roulette? For someone might have come along before any drug took effect.
‘An accident, maybe,’ said the Chief Engineer.
Patrick offered no opinion. Why had she not gone quietly to sleep in her cabin, to be found later by the steward?
She had left no note. It would have to be decided at the inquest, by which time her links with events in Sevenoaks would have been revealed.
It was not her way to be self-effacing. She need not have sued against her dismissal, even though her cause was just: the money she received was scarcely worth the publicity its award had attracted, but she had made a statement. She had made another, now.
And in Sevenoaks.
Endnote
[1]See Mortal Remains and Cast for Death
'Dr. Patrick Grant' Titles
(in order of first publication)
These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Dead In The Morning (1970)
Silent Witness (1972)
Grave Matters (1973)
Mortal Remains (1974)
Cast For Death (1976)
Other Margaret Yorke Novels
Published by House of Stratus
Devil's Work (1982)
The Hand Of Death (1981)
Pieces Of Justice (Short Story Collection) (1994)
Safely To The Grave (1986)
Serious Intent (1995)
A Small Deceit (1991)
Synopses of Titles
Published by House of Stratus
A. Dr. Patrick Grant Titles
Cast For Death
Sam Irwin, actor, is found dead in the River Thames. It appears to be suicide. But why should he have taken his own life shortly before opening in a new play at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre at Stratford-upon-Avon? Dr. Patrick Grant, a friend of Irwin, manages to link the seemingly unconnected occurrences of the death of a dog, a further suicide, and a series of art robberies in coming to an conclusion. That, however, is not what is seems, being only the prelude to a massive deception. Grant himself is threatened, and unless he can escape unscathed from a concert at the Festival Hall, the secret of Irwin's death will die with him.
Dead In The Morning
Imagine an old lady who was hated because of her arrogance and cruelty towards her children, and whose lives she dominated, becoming a murder victim. But it is the housekeeper who is found dead. Had a mistake been made and the wrong woman killed? Dr. Patrick Grant uses his powers of logic and deduction to determine this is not the case, but he can only prove it at the expense of incriminating an innocent person. How does he solve this particular conundrum?
Grave Matters
Amelia Brinton, a retired headmistress of a top girl's school, appears to have accidently fallen to her death in Greece. Her friend, a Miss Forest, also meets her death having been pushed down stairs in the British Museum. Dr. Patrick Grant connects the two events and his investigations lead him to a quiet backwater village in Hampshire. Yet more mysteries unfold; a dog drowns in shallow water, there is a case of food poisoning, and finally a house appears to be haunted. There is then another murder. What connects these events and why was Amelia Brinton killed. It takes Grant's full powers of logic and deduction, with a little help from the police, to get to the bottom of what is a spine tingling mystery and ultimate crime story.
Mortal Remains
Dr. Patrick Grant does not believe that Felix Lomax died accidentally. The unfortunate Lomax was thought to be lecturing on a luxury cruise liner, but is found washed ashore on a lonely beach in Crete. Grant's investigations take him upon a trail which eventually leads to the tombs of Mycenae, where he ends up risking his own life in an effort to determine the truth.
Silent Witness
The Austrian Alpine ski resort of Greutz is the scene of rivalry between an English party and some new arrivals. The tension mounts with the weather closing in, when blizzards envelope the resort and avalanches threaten. Dr. Patrick Grant's particular powers of logic and reasoning are needed, however, when a member of the party is discovered murdered. Why should a seemingly insignificant individual become a victim?
B. Other Titles
Devil's Work
Alan Parker cannot bring himself to tell his wife that he has lost his job. Each day he goes off to 'work', leaving her in both ignorance and trusting her little ambitions for them will be met. Other than playing out this particular deception, Alan is generally honest and intensely loyal, but that all changes when he happens across a child after an accident and then meets her mother, with whom he forms a friendship. The double life he then leads is exposed when the child goes missing and the police commence an investigation, with suspicion falling directly upon him. There are yet more twists to be revealed in this highly regarded novel.
The Hand of Death
We meet George Fortescue and Ronald Trimm. The former appears to be a very gentle man who is, in every sense of the word, ordinary. Trimm, though, is a successful small businessman who nonetheless feels deprived in one area because of his frigid, yet almost controlling, wife. Pornographic magazines fill the void for a while, but then he encounters a willing widow. However, when two rapes and murders occur it is Fortescue who receives the attention of the police. What is it about this man that allows him to become the chief suspect?
Pieces of Justice
In this collection of crime stories, readers will be delighted to find Dr. Patrick Grant making a welcome re-appearance. Also included are stories about a long held grudge and a wrongdoing with unforeseen later consequences, and others, all on a par with Margaret Yorke's much admired full length works.
Safely To The Grave
The Times referred to this work as a superior psychothriller and it certainly lives up to the epithet. The central character is Mick Harvey, who has just been released after a spell in prison. He enjoys frightening people – it is his way of gaining a thrill. One day he encounters Laura and Marion, who subsequently report him for dangerous driving. Thereafter, Mick has one thought only on his mind – how to exact revenge. With what might seem a simple plot at first glance, the author manages to keep the reader on tenterhooks right up to the fitting conclusion.
Serious Intent
Following retirement, Marigold Darwin returns to her home village. She meets two young boys, Mark and Steve, who hang around The Willows, where old Tom Morton lives. His housekeeper Ivy sometimes babysits Mark, although this may be a mistake. Neither boy is in the least concerned about others, regarding deception and theft as normal behaviour. The same is true of two friends, who have a seriously disturbed mother. Marigold is gradually drawn into the lives of all and becomes aware of serious parenting shortcomings, along with real fears and dangers. Tensions mount and in an intricate plot danger looms, with Marigold's own life being placed on the line.
A Small Deceit
This is a case of the chance meeting of two people, known to each other, who have both assumed false identities. William Adams was sent to prison for rape, and in order to avoid this being k
nown upon following his release, when he embarks upon a series of scams, he hides behind his new persona. He then meets Desmond Baxter, who he recognises as the judge who sentenced him. But Baxter is not his real name. Why is he also hiding his identity? Might Adams indulge in a little blackmail? However, unknown to him, the judge has recognised Adams. After weaving many twists and turns, with her usual skill Margaret Yorke presents the reader with a wholly unexpected outcome.
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