Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall

by Hannah Dennison

  “Well he has got a bit of a wandering eye,” said Mum with her usual tact.

  “Oh—well, yes, there is that.” Lavinia sighed. “I should never have agreed to see Benedict again.”

  “You started an affair.”

  “No!” Lavinia sounded shocked. “Nothing like that.”

  “Affairs don’t have to be physical things, Lavinia,” said Mum. “Sometimes a mental affair, a meeting of the minds, a mutual love of similar things, is far more dangerous than a quick romp in the hay.”

  There was another odd gulping noise. “Benedict told me that when he saw me again it felt as if someone had taken his heart and squeezed it so hard he couldn’t breathe. He said—and this is frightfully embarrassing—that his head actually began to spin because he’d forgotten how beautiful I was. Or something. He said he thought he had gotten over me but realized he hadn’t. He told me he couldn’t live without me.”

  “That’s lovely,” said Mum. “Can you repeat all that please? But slowly, dear.”

  Lavinia did—several times, in fact. Clearly she didn’t realize that Benedict’s protestations of love would end up immortalized on paper.

  “Oh, I knew you’d understand,” Lavinia said.

  “So what hold can he have over you now? Is Rupert a jealous, violent man?”

  I had begun to wonder the same thing myself.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think his lordship might have harmed Benedict in any way?” Mum went on. “Perhaps he found out?”

  “No, he couldn’t have! I’m ab-so-lute-ly positive he doesn’t know. We’ve been frightfully careful. And besides, Rupert is in London. No—” She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried. What if Benedict does something silly?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well. He did threaten to kill himself—”

  “Kill himself?” said Mum sharply.

  “Yes! He tried before. When I left Pemba—”

  “How? Think carefully now,” said Mum. “Pills? Drink? A gun to the head … throwing himself into a swamp?”

  “Oh! I can’t … I don’t want to—”

  “Because it’s strange that you should mention suicide,” Mum said. “There was a pair of shoes found at the scene.”

  “Mother!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I tore out of the cupboard.

  “Would you happen to know what size shoe your—”

  “Don’t! Stop!” I yelled as I burst into the kitchen to find Mum already unwrapping the package on the table.

  But I was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Mr. Chips found this shoe down at Coffin Mire,” said Mum.

  “Mum!” I protested again. “Please don’t!”

  Lavinia sprung to her feet, eyes wide and hands flapping in horror. “Oh! Oh!”

  “We couldn’t reach the other shoe and—”

  Lavinia crashed to the floor in a dead faint.

  “Good heavens. And she didn’t even look at it.” Mum looked stunned. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  We helped Lavinia to her feet and sat her on the kitchen chair. Mum held Lavinia’s head down between her knees until she began to struggle. She handed her the hip flask from the oak dresser. “Drink up, dear,” said Mum. “Mrs. Cropper’s cherry brandy will make you feel better.”

  Lavinia took a deep draft. “Benedict’s dead, isn’t he?” she whispered. “He threw himself into Coffin Mire because he loved me. He drowned … because he loved me.” Lavinia thrust her hand into her mouth and suppressed a whimper.

  “We don’t know that for sure.” I glared at Mum. “First of all, Benedict would hardly have removed his shoes—”

  “Of course he would,” said Mum bluntly. “He’d want Lavinia to know that she drove him to suicide. He’d deliberately want her to find his shoes.”

  Lavinia gave another cry of dismay. “Oh God! Must avoid a scandal. Mustn’t let Edith know. Or Rupert! Oh God, he’ll find out and divorce me.”

  “Let’s not panic quite yet,” I said calmly. “You said you spoke to Benedict yesterday?”

  Lavinia nodded. “We call each other all the time—first thing every morning and every night but—” She wiped a tear away from her eye. “I haven’t heard from him since yesterday at a quarter to one.”

  “Where is Benedict staying?” I asked.

  “In Dartmouth at the Dart Marina Hotel,” said Lavinia.

  “Did you call them?”

  “Oh no. Of course not,” said Lavinia. “I told you. We were frightfully discreet.”

  “The phone directory is in the drawer, Kat,” Mum said.

  I dialed the hotel and spoke to a female receptionist who introduced herself as Mary.

  “Are you a family member?” she asked in answer to my question.

  “A good friend,” I lied. “It’s really important.”

  “We can’t give out that information on the phone, it’s hotel policy.”

  “Perhaps you could just put me through to Benedict’s room?” I bluffed. “It’s Kat Stanford.”

  There was a pause. “Kat Stanford? Not the Kat Stanford from Fakes & Treasures?”

  “Yes. That’s me.”

  There was a little squeal of excitement on the other end of the phone. “I love Fakes & Treasures! It’s my favorite show. I heard you were living in Devon. You’re organizing that protest meeting about the train line or something. My cousin’s friend’s ex-boyfriend was at the pub the other night and told me all about it.”

  I suppressed a groan. “Yes, something like that.”

  Mary and I made small talk whilst Mum pulled faces at me. Finally I got the answer I needed and ended the call. “Benedict checked out yesterday afternoon.”

  “I knew it!” Lavinia grabbed the hip flask from Mum and took another swig. “Gone. He left and went straight down to Coffin Mire.”

  “Something must have spooked him,” said Mum.

  “Didn’t Alfred say that Benedict came here yesterday afternoon?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Mum nodded. “He called him Benedict Snoop. He was here looking for his mobile phone whilst we were at the auction.”

  “Oh!” Lavinia brightened. “Perhaps that’s why he didn’t call! He’d lost his phone.”

  “Damn, I forgot to ask that receptionist something else.” Susan Ogwell had mentioned that Valentine had been a guest at the same hotel. I called back but this time I spoke to a man called Lester.

  “Can you tell me if Valentine Prince-Avery was staying at your hotel this past weekend?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t release that information, madam. Hotel policy.”

  “Is Mary there?” I asked.

  “No. She’s on her break.”

  “This is Kat Stanford from Fakes & Treasures,” I said in the warmest tone I could muster. “It’s just a teeny favor, Lester. All you have to answer is yes or no.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England,” said Lester. “I’m the manager here and it’s hotel policy. We could get into trouble with—”

  “Don’t worry,” I said hastily. “Totally understand.” I put the phone down. “How annoying. Why can’t they just answer a simple question?”

  “Why were you asking about Valentine?” said Mum.

  “Because … not only did he stay at Pemba Island—yes, I heard you mentioned Pemba Island, Lavinia—but he was also staying at the Dart Marina Hotel last weekend.”

  Mum gasped. “You think they know each other?”

  Lavinia turned ashen. “What do you mean? Know each other? How?”

  “I’m not sure but it’s too much of a coincidence,” I said. “But why pretend that they didn’t know each other? They certainly acted as strangers at the protest meeting.”

  I was struck by a growing sense of unease that I just couldn’t get rid of.

  “If I’d been at the protest meeting, I would have spotted their relationship instantly,” Mum declared.

  “Did you suspect that Benedic
t and Valentine knew each other, Lavinia?” I demanded. “Did Benedict ever talk to you about him?”

  “No. Never.” Lavinia bit her lip. “No—quite the opposite. Benedict referred to him as an idiot and a paper-pushing buffoon.”

  “Did Benedict ever ask you to supply personal information of some kind?” I said suddenly.

  “Well, not really. He just asked me for a list of all the names and addresses of Rupert’s wealthy landowner chums—”

  “What about their birthdays?” Mum said.

  “Oh. Yes. Those, too. Of course, I didn’t know many of them but—have I done something wrong?”

  Mum and I exchanged pained looks.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” said Lavinia. “Benedict said that the more people who signed the petition the better chance we had of playing the environmental card.”

  “We’ve been fooled!” Mum declared.

  “Oh God. No. I don’t believe it,” whispered Lavinia. “He wouldn’t.”

  “You’d better believe it,” Mum declared.

  “Identity theft,” Mum and I chorused.

  “When Rupert finds out, he’ll kill me.”

  “Or kill him,” said Mum darkly. “Unless he already has.”

  “Don’t say such a thing!” Lavinia sprang to her feet again. “Goodness! Is that the time? Best be off. Must feed the horses.”

  “If Benedict is in that swamp, the police will want to ask you questions,” said Mum.

  “You promised you wouldn’t say anything, Iris! You promised!”

  And with that, Lavinia hurried out of the kitchen.

  “What are we supposed to do now?” said Mum.

  “God knows but I’m not lying for her and neither are you. I don’t care what promises you made. Mum—”

  “Don’t say a word. I need to think. Perhaps we can get Alfred on the case—no! I can’t do that. It will all come out about the money.”

  “You’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle.”

  “It’s all Lavinia’s fault.”

  “This could be just a series of misunderstandings,” I said but deep down I didn’t think so.

  “Morning! The front door was open!” came a male voice.

  “Oh no! It’s the police,” Mum whispered urgently. “Now don’t say anything about anything … just … let them do the talking.”

  Shawn and Roxy strolled into the kitchen looking grim.

  “Would anyone like a cup of tea?” Mum said brightly.

  “We’ve no time for tea,” said Shawn. “Let’s take a look at that shoe.”

  Mum unwrapped the package. “The other one is laying on the surface of Coffin Mire. We couldn’t reach it.”

  “That’s not a farmer’s shoe,” said Roxy. “Nor a rambler’s shoe, either. That’s a fancy dress shoe. Italian leather I would say. Hmm. Someone’s got big feet. That’s a size eleven.”

  “That’s what we thought,” said Mum.

  “There’s a bit of déjà vu going on round here,” Roxy went on. “Remember Vera’s shoe collection?”

  “Who can forget it,” Mum said. “She had more shoes than—what was that dictator called, again?”

  “Imelda Marcos,” said Roxy.

  “Speaking of shoe collections,” I said, thinking of Eric’s shoe sale on eBay. “Maybe you should talk to Eric?”

  “I bet he’s got something to do with this,” said Mum. “You heard about the protest meeting on Monday night.”

  “We have already spoken to Eric. He’ll be here in a minute. He’s just getting a few ropes and other gear together.”

  “What gear?” Mum said.

  “We’re heading down to Coffin Mire the moment he arrives.”

  “You can’t mean that you’re pulling out the body?” Mum was horrified. “You don’t have to file papers or whatever the police normally do? Or go through missing persons reports?”

  “Nope,” said Roxy. “That’s the advantage of being a satellite station. Don’t ask permission, beg for forgiveness—that’s what your dad used to say, didn’t he, Shawn?”

  Mum and I exchanged looks. We both knew that Shawn’s father, Detective Chief Superintendent Robert Cropper, had turned a blind eye on more than one occasion—the Honeychurch insurance scam, for a start.

  There was a rap on the back kitchen door. I opened it to reveal Eric standing in the doorway dressed head to toe in oilskins and hip boots. He looked as if he was about to star in Deadliest Catch.

  “Shawn said someone fell in Coffin Mire,” he said. “I got a couple of duckboards, ropes, and shovels. The tractor is out back.”

  “Good,” said Shawn. “I’ll pop to the car and get my oilskins, too. I’ll meet you outside in five minutes. We’ll cut across the fields. Roxy—take the shoe. We might need that as evidence. We’ll meet you down at Bridge Cottage. Clive should be making his way there with Fluffy now.”

  “What should we do?” said Mum. “After all, we saw the hand first. Shall I show you where?”

  “I think they already know that, Mother.”

  “No. You both stay here and out of trouble.” Shawn went over to the sink and rinsed out his coffee mug.

  “Thank you,” said Mum. “Someone trained you well.”

  “Did you recover your money, Iris?” Shawn asked.

  “Money?”

  “Kat said that five thousand pounds had been stolen.”

  Mum shot me a filthy look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “She didn’t tell you about Mr. Chips running off with your money?”

  “Mr. Chips? The dog?” Mum laughed just a little too heartily. “Fancy. What would he want that for? To buy some bones?”

  “I was going to tell you—” I felt my face redden. “But I just haven’t had a minute with … you know … the body…”

  “Well, you’ll be glad to know that we were able to confirm that the blue plastic money bag was, indeed, from the National Bank in Jersey,” said Shawn.

  “What!” Mum exclaimed. “Whatever has a bank in Jersey got to do with me?”

  Shawn shot me a look of confusion. I felt my face grow hot.

  “No money has gone missing,” Mum said indignantly.

  “I’m so sorry, Officer,” I said. “It was my mistake.”

  “You reported a theft.” Shawn declared. “You accused Patty Gully of theft. That seems a particularly callous thing to do in the circumstances to say nothing of wasting police time.”

  “Yes, and I said I’m sorry.”

  “No wonder poor Patty made a complaint about being harassed.”

  “Officer—surely there are more important things to worry about than this trivial misunderstanding,” said Mum. “Or do you no longer care about the body in Coffin Mire?”

  Shawn blushed with embarrassment and, with a nod, darted out of the kitchen.

  Mum turned on me. She was livid. “How could you go to the police?”

  “How was I to know?” I said defensively. “Anyway you told me that the money in the suitcase was perfectly legal.”

  “Money in the suitcase?” Mum gawked. “Money in the suitcase? How do you know about the money in the suitcase?”

  “I don’t,” I said hastily. “It’s just a wild guess.”

  “You went into the loft and looked into my suitcase?” Mum was so angry that I thought she’d explode.

  “No, of course I didn’t!” I stammered. “I worked it out because … because … well, even though you lost five thousand pounds—”

  “You lost it—”

  “We lost it,” I said. “You were still able to pay Benedict another five thousand pounds so I thought, if she has another five thousand—”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Katherine,” said Mum. “And what has Patty got to do with all this? What was this harassment that Shawn was talking about?”

  “Okay, okay,” I said wearily. “I found the empty blue plastic bag in a black bin liner outside Patty’s front gate.”

  “Empty,
you say?”

  “Yes. The money was gone.”

  “And you asked her?”

  “She denied everything,” I said. “In fact she got very nasty about it at the end. She reported me to the police.”

  “So she still has my money.” Mum thought for a moment. “Right then. Go and get your coat.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To talk to Patty.”

  “I told you, it’s a waste of time.”

  “And whilst we’re at it, we’ll make a quick detour to Hopton’s Crest,” Mum said grimly.

  “Whatever for?”

  “Don’t you want to see who drowned in Coffin Mire?” said Mum.

  “No, I jolly well don’t.” In fact just the very thought made me feel nauseous.

  “Suit yourself,” said Mum. “I’m going to get my coat.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Twenty minutes later we were back at the five-bar gate at Hopton’s Crest where only last night Angela had been picked up by the ambulance. The last twenty-four hours seemed to have been the longest of my life and now, with this new revelation that Benedict and Valentine could well be connected, I suspected the next twenty-four would be even longer. When Dad had made me promise to look after Mum, I had never expected that “keeping her out of trouble” meant, literally, just that.

  “Mum, this is macabre,” I said. “Do you seriously want to watch?”

  “I’m not going to watch. You are.” She handed me a pair of binoculars. “You’ve seen a dead body before. I haven’t.”

  “It’s hardly a hobby of mine,” I said.

  “Please, darling. Just for me?”

  “Fine.”

  We both got out of the MINI and leaned over the five-bar gate.

  Bracing myself, I raised the binoculars. Fortunately, the view was not as good as Mum had hoped. Coffin Mire itself was partially screened by the trees from Cavalier Copse but we could hear a diesel engine running far below.

  “Is that Eric’s tractor?”

  “I can’t tell yet.” I focused the binoculars and scanned through the trees. Whatever activity was going on down there was out of my line of vision.