‘Tikki … it was Tikki’s fault.’ The screams gave way to great gulping sobs. Lynette shrank back against Nan, frightened and defensive as she realised she had given herself away. ‘Tikki made me follow him. He was frantic … he wanted …’ She gestured helplessly.
The others followed the line of her gesture to see the catnip mouse lying on the carpet where Tikki had abandoned it when her screams had frightened him away.
‘It was his!’ Lynette insisted. ‘He told me it was. He … he could smell it, but he couldn’t get it. He wanted me to take it out for him.’
Margot had forgotten all about that catnip mouse she had impulse-bought on market day. She had thrust it deep into her handbag and never given it another thought. There had been too much else to think about.
‘I still don’t understand.’ Christa was giving no quarter. ‘What are you doing in here? Where was it?’ They stared at the mouse as though it could answer her questions.
But Margot knew where to look: at the handbag she had left lying on the bed, where Tikki must have jumped up and discovered it, sniffing out his treasure within. The bag was open now, with half its contents spread out across the counterpane, the sapphire-and-diamond ear-rings perilously close to the edge, in danger of slipping to the floor. The ear-rings had been in the small zippered compartment holding the key to –
The closet door was open, the suitcase dragged halfway into the room, the lid thrown back, its rumpled red-encrusted contents on display.
They had not been rumpled when she locked the case, nor had they been in a position to be easily displayed. The few items she had not unpacked had been neatly folded and arranged to conceal, from any casual observer, the parcel beneath.
The battered thick cardboard box, with its almost indecipherable address and its smattering of gaudy foreign stamps, had been tugged to the top and opened. The tattered garments within, stiff and unwieldy with dried blood, had been pulled out and then thrust back in horror as realisation dawned.
‘Ask her!’ From the refuge of Nan’s arms, Lynette hurled her accusation:
‘Ask Margot! Who has she killed?’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Frankly,’ Emmeline said, ‘I’m relieved that it didn’t turn out to be an infant corpse. Stillborn, or perhaps impulsively strangled in the throes of post-natal depression.’
Henry spilled some of the brandy he was pouring. Although inured to the riper comments of the females in the family, Emmeline’s frankness could still jolt him. He gave a nervous apologetic smile and dabbed at the spilt liquid with his handkerchief.
‘Happens all the time,’ Christa said. ‘Especially at airports — that’s where they usually catch them. One is always reading about binned babies, or tiny bodies packed in the luggage. You were lucky to get away with it. If they’d ever searched your luggage, you’d have had some explaining to do.’
The expectant hush left no doubt that she still had some explaining to do.
‘Nothing like that.’ Margot felt her determined smile wavering. ‘We weren’t going to think about babies for a few more years. Not until we were married … until our photographic studio was established …’ She gave up the struggle to hold on to the smile. ‘Anyway, I’m far too conventional. Obviously, I was too well brought up.’
‘Unlike Lynette,’ Emmeline said, ‘who is developing all of the earmarks of the school sneak.’
No one contested that opinion, but Nan was still upstairs trying to calm Lynette. Bemused expressions on their faces suggested that they might be remembering occasions when they had found things not quite as they thought they had left them in their own rooms. Had Lynette discovered any other secrets people had been trying to hide?
‘You were saying …’ Emmeline was not going to drop the subject. They had all seen the bloodstained clothing.
‘Sven got a last-minute freelance assignment,’ she forced the words out, ‘covering a small uprising in the Far East. He was only supposed to be gone for a week. but … they took a wrong turning … their car was caught in the crossfire between the two factions. Sven and the UN observer were killed, the driver badly wounded. I was listed as Sven’s next-of-kin, so they sent his belongings to me. There weren’t many, he travelled light … the cameras … the carry-on bag with his other clothing … reached me eventually … a few weeks ago …’ She leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep for ever.
‘And then … two days before I was due to leave to come over here … the rest of it … the last of it … arrived. I … I suppose they meant to be kind … or perhaps they didn’t know what else to do with it. His wallet, with a picture of me and an old letter I had sent once … the money was missing, of course. I don’t blame anyone for that … what does it matter? Perhaps they used it for the postage …’
She felt a glass nudge her hand and someone gently closed her hand around it. She opened her eyes and smiled gratefully at Henry.
‘There was also his passport … and his credentials and … and the clothes he was wearing when …’ She took a long swallow; it wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t be. Nothing could ever be.
‘I … I didn’t know what to do with them … I was so shocked … and I didn’t have time to think. So … so I …’ Heads were nodding sympathetically. They knew what she had done.
‘So …’ She finished her drink and did not notice when Henry detached the glass from her hand to replenish it. ‘So, I threw everything into my suitcase and brought it with me. I couldn’t think what else to do. And it seemed so … so cold … just to leave them behind in an empty apartment.’ No need to mention the other wild but persistent thought that had kept running through her head: perhaps she might be able to bury those … last remains … in a corner of the family plot, so that there would be a little bit of Sven, if only some of his blood, waiting there for her when her time came. So that she wouldn’t have lost him completely.
‘I’m sorry.’ She took a deep swallow of her fresh drink. ‘It was just unfortunate that Lynette should be the one to find them.’
‘She wouldn’t have found them if she hadn’t been prying about where she had no business to be,’ Emmeline said grimly.
‘I did keep the suitcase locked,’ Margot offered, in her own defence. ‘And at the very back of the closet.’
‘Precisely!’ Emmeline drained her own drink. ‘We are going to have to have a very serious talk with that young lady in the morning.’
‘Since she’s now given herself away and we know that she can and does leave her room,’ Henry spoke hopefully, ‘Perhaps we can persuade her to move back into her old room. I know Uncle Wilfred would love to get his old quarters back.’
Ah, but would Aunt Milly? Emmeline and Christabel exchanged glances but, before anyone could say anything, Nan moved forward. How long had she been standing in the doorway listening?
‘She’s asleep now,’ Nan reported. ‘I had to give her one of her pills and sit with her until she dozed off. I think she’ll sleep the night through now.’
‘Asleep or not, she won’t leave her room again tonight,’ Christa said. ‘She’s been well and truly caught and she’s smart enough to lie low for a while.’
‘She’s being over-optimistic if she thinks we’ll forget about it.’ Henry brought Nan a drink.
‘She’s been through so much,’ Nan defended her chick. ‘This must have thrown her right back to – ’
‘She brought it on herself,’ Christa said sharply. ‘And now she’s been found out. Next time she dares to ring that damned bell, I hope you’ll ignore it. I intend to!’
The quirk of Nan’s lips suggested that that was all she had ever done, anyway. Emmeline sat watching quietly, a faintly absent look in her eyes betraying that she was absorbed in her own thoughts.
Her glass was becoming too heavy to hold, even though it was nearly empty again. Margot set it down on the floor beside her chair and leaned back again, closing her eyes against the overpowering weariness.
The sudde
n clang of the handbell ripped through the house, startling them. Margot found herself on the edge of her chair and she was not the only one.
‘Oh, no!’ Christa cried. ‘No!’
‘I’m sorry.’ Nan pushed herself out of her chair so rapidly that she swayed for a moment before regaining her balance. ‘I thought she was asleep.’
‘Don’t go!’ Christa said. ‘Stop humouring her!’ But Nan was already out of the room.
Margot found herself on her own feet, propelled towards the doorway by a sudden panicked thought: Where was Milly?
‘You’re not going, too!’ Christa said. ‘I shouldn’t think you’d ever want to see that brat again.’
‘No, it’s Milly,’ she blurted out. ‘All this uproar – and we haven’t seen her —’ Hadn’t anyone missed her?
‘Oh, Milly.’ Christa gave an indifferent shrug. ‘Don’t worry about Milly. She’s better off than we are. She’s lost in her own little world.’
Perhaps, but Margot was going to make sure.
‘Oh, hello, dear.’ Milly looked up as she came into the morning room, now quite dark. The reading lamp was on, the usual open book in Milly’s lap. ‘Is dinner ready?’
‘Almost.’ Margot leaned against the door in relief. Milly was calm and unconcerned, showing no sign of having heard anything untoward. Why explain and upset her? ‘We’re having drinks in the library. Aren’t you going to join us?’
‘Oh, yes. In just a few more minutes, dear. Lady Philomena, in a fit of pique, is just about to hurl her engagement ring, the priceless Rosenthorpe diamond, over the edge of the abyss into the mountain cataract tumbling below, which will carry the ring out to sea, never to be seen again, thus unleashing the Rosenthorpe Curse on the entire dynasty.’ Milly shook her head. ‘These young girls – so impetuous …’
Margot backed out, closing the door silently behind her. It took her several moments to regain what passed for her composure before she returned to the library and accepted, wisely or unwisely, the fresh drink Henry immediately pressed into her hand.
No wonder none of the others had worried about Milly. They were used to it. She wondered whether she, too, would grow accustomed to the new unnerving Milly.
The ensuing long silence was neither uneasy nor companionable, just the silence of people who had nothing much to say to each other, but a lot to think about.
They looked up, with a rustle of expectation, as they heard Nan’s footsteps coming down the stairs, then turn and move off down the hallway in the opposite direction. There was a clatter of pot lids being lifted and replaced, the slam of the oven door, the rattle of cutlery and concomitant sounds from the kitchen.
It seemed an eternity before Nan rejoined them to announce: ‘Another half an hour.’
This was not really what they were interested in hearing.
‘Well?’ Christa demanded.
‘She really is asleep now. I gave her another pill. I should have known she was so upset that one wouldn’t be enough.’
‘You should also know that that wasn’t what I was asking,’ Christa said severely. ‘What did she have the nerve to want this time?’
‘What does she ever want?’ Nan sighed. ‘She wants her mother, she wants her father, she wants her Aunt Chloe, she wants Tikki …’ She wants the world she lost.
‘Claudia and Chloe are impossible!’ Christa said. ‘She, of all people, should know that.’
‘And after the way she frightened him away with her hysterics – ’ Emmeline paused while they all contemplated the memory of the terrified cat bolting down the stairs —‘I’d say it will be a long time before we see Tikki around here again.’
That left Kingsley.
Chapter Eighteen
‘I really don’t see why you need to bother Kingsley about every little tantrum.’ Verity was determined to be the angel barring the way with a flaming sword. Either that, or she didn’t like Lynette any better than Lynette liked her. ‘He’s very busy right now.’
‘She’s his daughter,’ Nan reminded. ‘His only child.’
‘Yes …’ For the moment, Verity’s tone implied. She would be perfectly happy to see Kingsley walk away from his responsibilities, forget all about Lynette, about Claudia, about everything except starting a new life. With her. She, of course, would soon provide him with much more satisfactory progeny.
Did she have any idea just how unrealistic her ambitions were?
‘It’s all right.’ Emmeline stood in the doorway. ‘He’s turned his cellphone back on and I’ve just spoken to him directly. He’s promised he’ll be down later this afternoon.’
‘Well, really!’ Verity huffed. ‘I’m supposed to make all his appointments for him.’
‘I’m sure your employer – ’ Emmeline emphasised the word delicately and Verity’s cheeks grew red – ‘would not consider it necessary to make an appointment to see his own daughter when she needs him.’
‘Well, really!’
Margot stepped aside as Verity stormed out of the room, then entered slowly and slumped into the nearest armchair. Above her head, the conversation went on.
‘That girl is getting above herself,’ Nan said.
‘She has been for some time,’ Emmeline agreed. ‘It won’t be doing Kingsley any good if she treats his constituents that way.’
‘She’s just two-faced enough to be perfectly charming to them,’ Nan said. ‘But eventually they’ll see through her.’
But would Kingsley?
‘Was it very bad?’ Margot opened her eyes to find Nan standing over her.
‘Probably not. It’s just that they go on and on so.’ Her longer, more searching interview by the police had just been concluded. ‘Richard is in there with them now.’
‘Boring and exhausting,’ Emmeline concurred. ‘They questioned me first thing this morning and I thought I’d never get away, even though I had nothing to tell them.’
‘Nor I,’ Nan agreed. ‘They still seem to have no idea who the woman was. I don’t see how they can get very far unless they know her identity.’
‘They know she’s dead,’ Emmeline said harshly. ‘That’s enough to be getting on with.’
‘They’re still trying to establish a link with someone in this house.’ Nan ran her fingers through her hair despairingly. ‘They’ll never be able to. Wherever she came from, whatever she wanted — it can’t have had anything to do with us.’
‘Then why was she here?’ Emmeline asked.
‘Perhaps … she was meeting someone here,’ Margot said slowly. ‘From one of the other houses in the area. We have the most extensive grounds around, with lots of little nooks and crannies where people could meet unseen.’
‘It’s landscaped better than the estates in some of Milly’s Regency romances,’ Nan agreed reflectively. ‘Just laid out for assignations: the rose arbour, the herb garden, the gazebo …’ Her voice faltered. ’ … the pond.’
‘And Lynette told me – ’ A memory surfaced at the back of Margot’s mind. ‘There’s been a prowler in the garden recently.’
‘What?’ Nan tensed. ‘When?’
‘A couple of days ago. I looked out of her window when she complained about it, but I couldn’t see anyone. That’s not to say no one was there, with so much shrubbery, so many shadows, they could have been hiding anywhere.’
Nan and Emmeline exchanged glances.
‘Hasn’t Lynette mentioned it? I thought that was what she was so anxious to tell Nan.’
‘I hope you didn’t tell the police about this,’ Emmeline said.
‘No, I’ve just remembered it now.’ There had been so much else to think about that one more of Lynette’s bids for attention was easily forgotten.
‘That’s good.’ Nan relaxed. ‘We don’t want them harassing Lynette again. She’s had enough to deal with.’
So have I. Margot felt her eyes closing again and did not fight against it.
‘Two strangers roaming about the grounds …’ Emmeline tested the idea thoughtfully
. ‘Choosing to meet each other here … it seems unlikely.’
Perhaps only one of them was a stranger.
‘I don’t know …’ Nan was equally thoughtful. ‘Meeting on neutral territory, as it were … especially if they had a score to settle.’
‘And where better to kill someone than a garden where a previous killing had taken place?’ Emmeline was warming to the idea. ‘Shift the blame and suspicion to people who are already under suspicion.’
But were they? With Chloe in jail and on trial, surely the police would not have continued to suspect anyone else. Until this had happened.
‘The main thing,’ Nan said, as though she and Emmeline had been conducting another conversation beneath the obvious one, ‘is to keep Lynette well away from the police. She seems to be under control now but, under questioning, who knows what she might blurt out?’
Margot opened her eyes to find them both regarding her. With sympathy, with concern and, yes, with suspicion. Her explanation for the bloodstained garments concealed in her luggage had been the truth – but had they really believed her?
Belief or not, they were right. If Lynette were to tell the police what she had found … asked again, ‘Who did she kill?’ … then the full force of the investigation would be centred on Margot.
And she couldn’t blame them. Two murders did not necessarily mean that the same person must have committed both. Not when there was another hot suspect to hand. Better than anyone else, the police knew about criminal families: shoplifting rings, drug dealing, car stealing, burglary and handling stolen property, all as much group activities in certain circles as landscaping the garden or redecorating the house were in normal families. It would not be outside the range of possibilities for the police to consider that homicide might also run in families.
And she was one of the family. One, moreover, who travelled with bloodied clothing in her suitcase. The police would probably contact their colleagues in New York to find out whether any of her friends or acquaintances had been murdered lately.
If they could pin this murder on her, then Chloe still wouldn’t be free.
The Cat Next Door Page 14
