The Cat Next Door

by Marian Babson

  ‘Just fainted.’ Nan crouched beside Verity, expertly checking her pulse.

  ‘Perhaps Kingsley has been working her too hard?’ Christa speculated. ‘One way or another.’

  Margot studied Verity thoughtfully before deciding that the faint was genuine. Verity had landed too heavily and in too ungraceful a position for it to have been calculated.

  ‘Are you going to leave her there?’ Uncle Wilfred stared down unhappily at yet another female body prone on his premises. ‘Aren’t you going to pick her up?’

  ‘Must we?’ Christa murmured.

  The others seemed to be of the same mind; no one rushed forward to help Verity to her feet. In fact, it was rather peaceful to have her out of the picture, just lying there, quiet for once.

  ‘Let her recover first.’ Nan straightened up. ‘Someone get a glass of water.’

  ‘To throw over her?’ Richard was hopeful.

  ‘For her to drink. She’ll be thirsty when she comes to.’

  ‘I don’t know … I don’t know …’ Shaking his head, Uncle Wilfred retreated kitchenwards.

  ‘Dad …?’ Richard followed, obviously not trusting his father to carry out the errand, a mistrust confirmed by the eventual faint sounds of someone foraging through the fridge.

  ‘Digging his grave with his teeth,’ Nan sighed.

  ‘He’ll be all right when Chloe comes home,’ Christa said.

  Would he? Chloe’s return wouldn’t alter the fact that Claudia was gone for ever.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Kingsley was back. ‘What’s happened to Verity?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Nan said. ‘She just fainted.’

  ‘But … why?’

  A faint stirring at his feet and a long moan answered him.

  ‘She’s coming round.’ Nan stated the obvious.

  ‘Here’s the water.’ Richard elbowed Kingsley out of the way and handed the glass to Nan. ‘You’re sure -?’ Wistfully, he pantomimed a quick deluge for Verity.

  ‘Thank you, dear.’ Nan took the glass firmly.

  ‘Ooooooh …’ Verity’s eyes fluttered open to an obviously unnerving view of human ankles and furniture legs. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Verity!’ Kingsley dashed forward to help as she struggled to sit up. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I … think so.’ She leaned against him, in no hurry now to get up. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You fainted,’ Nan said briskly, holding out the glass of water. ‘Drink this.’

  ‘Here …’ Kingsley took the glass and held it to Verity’s lips, echoing Nan’s command. ‘Drink this.’

  ‘Yes.’ Verity took a dainty sip, then suddenly gulped it down greedily as she discovered just how thirsty she was.

  ‘Better?’ Kingsley was frowning at her anxiously. Perhaps Verity had reason to be complacent, after all.

  ‘How’s Lynette?’ Emmeline looked at Kingsley coldly. ‘Does she feel better now?’

  ‘Lynette will be all right.’ Kingsley spoke with a trace of irritation. ‘Naturally, she’s still a bit upset. This house hasn’t been the most peaceful spot on earth of late.’

  Margot braced herself to meet his accusing gaze, but he was looking off into space a trifle abstractedly. Was it possible that Lynette had not told him what she had found in Margot’s room? Of course, to do so would have been to admit her own duplicity — and Lynette valued her father’s high opinion of her.

  ‘All right … easy now …’ Kingsley was lifting Verity to her feet. ‘Over here …’ He guided her, leaning heavily on his arm, to an empty chair.

  The others watched in silence as Kingsley fussed over Verity. Margot was vaguely aware of the front door opening and closing.

  ‘Well, Henry?’ If he’d hoped to slip into the room quietly, he had reckoned without Emmeline. ‘Did you manage to convince the police that you hadn’t taken in any rock concerts recently?’

  ‘What?’ Henry looked at her blankly. ‘Rock? Me? Where did you get that idea?’

  ‘Pop Tours,’ Richard said. ‘You told Dad they found out the dead woman owned and ran Pop Tours.’

  ‘Oh.’ Henry’s face cleared. ‘No, not that kind of pop, nothing to do with music at all. It was a small specialist travel agency. PoP stands for Places of Peril … very specialist, indeed.’

  ‘Lean over and put your head between your knees, Verity,’ Emmeline advised. ‘We don’t want you fainting again.’

  ‘I’m all right.’ Verity raised her head and gave Emmeline a hostile look. ‘But – ’ she turned her paper-white face towards Kingsley and forced her pale lips into a smile – ‘I’d like more water, please.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Kingsley took the glass and looked around for someone else to hand it to. No volunteers rushed forward – he was not at his office now.

  ‘Specialist travel,’ Richard said. ‘Places of Peril sounds very specialist.’

  ‘I didn’t know there were travel agencies like that,’ Henry said wonderingly. ‘I mean, I realised there were agencies who’d tailor tours to special requirements, but I thought that meant handicapped people, wheelchair access, that sort of thing. Or special interests like archaeology, gardens, museums, opera houses …’

  ‘Places of Peril,’ Emmeline said thoughtfully. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’

  ‘Precisely. The lady ran tours to the flashpoints of the world – and she wasn’t the only tour operator who did.’ Henry had learned too much too fast, more than he had ever wanted to know. ‘If revolution threatened, if insurgents lurked behind every bush, if terrorists were hurling home-made bombs, if kidnapping, anarchy, ethnic cleansing were rife, PoP would be there – escorting a small, but select, tour.’

  ‘Well, that explains the bulletproof vest,’ Christa said. ‘It’s not usually part of your average woman’s wardrobe.’

  It also explained why Margot had briefly mistaken the body for a fallen tree. The patchwork jacket in greens and browns, the dark trousers, were a deliberately stylised camouflage outfit, designed to ensure that its wearer blended into the foliage in the country, but modish enough to pass unremarked in the city.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Nan said faintly. ‘What sort of people would want to go to places like that?’

  ‘There are more of them than you’d think. People who crave excitement: the danger junkies, the fright groupies, the thrill seekers. People who get a charge out of walking a tightrope, laying their lives on the line.’ Henry paused.

  ‘Sound like anyone we knew?’

  Claudia!

  Margot looked around at the others. Had they made the connection yet? More importantly, had the police?

  Verity gasped and sagged against Kingsley. Just at that moment, he looked up and met Margot’s eyes.

  ‘Help me get Verity into the garden,’ he said. ‘She needs air.’

  Automatically, she went to him while Henry still held the attention of the others. Verity was almost a dead weight, barely able to take a few steps as they half-dragged her along.

  ‘All very discreet …’ Henry was saying behind them. ‘Word of mouth recommendations and no advertising. They hid the name of the agency behind the initials and no one was the wiser. If the occasional pop music fan tried to make a booking for a concert, they simply said there were no places left …’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Verity gasped as the cool air hit her. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘I had no idea.’ Kingsley, too, was distancing himself at a rate of knots. ‘Verity always took care of the travel arrangements. And, of course, Claudia went on trips by herself when the House was in session and I couldn’t get away.’

  ‘Claudia gave me the name of the agency,’ Verity said. ‘She told me they might be expensive, but they were the best. She … she was always very satisfied with them.’

  Henry’s voice faded as Kingsley led them around the corner of the house to the lawn in front of the rose arbour where the cluster of white-painted iron garden benches and chairs waited in the last of the late afte
rnoon sun. As they neared, the round tawny cushion in one corner of a bench moved and raised an enquiring head to watch their approach.

  ‘Hello, Tikki.’ Margot sat down beside him while he wriggled about amiably to accommodate her. She stroked the soft fur, with the relieved feeling that she had found a friend to provide a bit of moral support.

  Verity and Kingsley had seated themselves side by side on the opposite bench, both looking extremely thoughtful. The silence lengthened.

  ‘Polly … I can’t believe it,’ Verity said at last. ‘Why didn’t someone tell me?’

  ‘They’ve only just found out,’ Margot said. ‘And you weren’t here when we found her. The police wouldn’t have thought of asking you if you could identify her.’

  How could they be sure Verity hadn’t been here? She had her own key to the house, to come and go as she pleased, ostensibly as Kingsley’s emissary. She could have come back to the house after dark, when everyone was in bed, to meet the travel agent who, given her background, would not think such an assignation too unusual — although she had taken the precaution of wearing her Kevlar vest.

  Verity, who had made such headway with Kingsley since Claudia’s death. Verity, who had handled all the travel arrangements, who had known Polly Parsons. Verity …?

  Tikki changed his mind about moulding himself along her thigh and moved into her lap instead. Margot stroked the sun-warmed fur, felt the heated iron floral design of the bench gently brand itself into her back and let her eyes close for a moment. Tikki had the right idea. How lovely it would be to doze in the warmth until the sun dipped below the horizon and then go into the house for a delicious hot dinner before going upstairs for a long refreshing sleep until morning.

  ‘Do you think …?’ Verity sounded almost timid. ‘Could Polly have killed Claudia? If Chloe didn’t do it, that is.’

  ‘She didn’t.’ Kingsley was now prepared to give Chloe a vote of confidence.

  ‘Why should she?’ Margot asked. And, even if she had, then who had killed her?

  Suddenly, she did not feel comfortable sitting so near to Verity with her eyes closed.

  Verity, who’d had everything to gain by disposing of Claudia. But why on earth would she want to kill the travel agent?

  Why should anyone want to kill a travel agent? If their trip had not been satisfactory, people demanded their money back, complained to ABTA, in extreme cases, even sued. They did not resort to murder.

  In any case, Claudia had told everyone that her last trip had been the best of her life. There had been no hint of discontent. But Claudia was dead …

  Margot opened her eyes to find Kingsley and Verity watching her. Disconcerted, she stopped stroking Tikki for a moment and he mewled a protest, a surprisingly kittenish sound for so adult a cat.

  ‘Sorry, Tikki.’ Margot resumed stroking him. His purring was loud in the uneasy silence. He was heavy, pinning her down, precious seconds might be lost in dislodging him if she should have to run for her life.

  Where had that thought come from? She blinked and the sense of menace faded. Kingsley and Verity became again just two people she had known for most of her life, practically members of the family. Kingsley, certainly, by marriage; Verity, because she had always been around.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ Margot asked her abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Verity was startled; she seemed to have forgotten that they were all sitting there because she had fainted. ‘Oh! Oh, yes. Much better.’ She didn’t look it.

  ‘Do you want to go back to the hotel?’ Kingsley seemed of the same opinion. ‘I shan’t need you any more tonight.’

  ‘No, no.’ That was what she was afraid of. ‘I’m quite all right now. Really, I am. It was just … a passing weakness.’ She bared her teeth at Margot. ‘You should know all about that. Except that yours doesn’t pass, does it?’

  ‘You’re obviously feeling better,’ Kingsley said drily. So he was not unaware of Verity’s bitchy streak. But did he realise how deep it went, how deadly she might be?

  ‘Perhaps I’m not quite as well as I ought to be.’ Verity covered her tracks quickly. ‘But you were right – ’ She smiled adoringly at Kingsley. ‘I do feel much better for being out in the nice fresh air.’

  ‘Yes.’ Margot also smiled at Kingsley, a more genuine smile. ‘It’s so lovely out here in the garden. We should make more use of – ’ The reason why they didn’t returned to choke her off.

  ‘That will come,’ Kingsley said comfortingly.

  Would it? Now that there had been a second unresolved death here? It seemed unlikely.

  And yet, this was the family garden, the family home. She could not see Uncle Wilfred selling up and moving away. He and Aunt Milly had always loved the place so much, they were so deeply rooted here. Where would they go?

  Margot shivered. The sun had gone down and the autumn chill in the air was making itself felt. A sharp gust of wind scattered petals from the dying roses over them, some hitting her cheeks then falling on Tikki in her lap.

  ‘The last rose of summer …’ Kingsley caught one of the petals, rubbing it thoughtfully between his fingers.

  ‘Why can’t this be over?’ Verity burst out. ‘Why can’t everyone leave us alone and everything go back to being the way it was?’

  ‘Because two women are dead,’ Margot said. ‘Murdered.’ Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  ‘That’s silly!’ Verity said. ‘They were accidents. Chloe got into a fight with Claudia and hit her, forgetting that she was holding a knife. It was just bad luck that she hit a vital spot and Claudia died. And that travel woman, prowling around where she had no right to be, tripped and fell into the pond and drowned.’

  Was that what had happened? It sounded almost plausible. Especially if you substituted the name Verity for Chloe in the first instance. It was only too easy to imagine Verity, jealous and goaded beyond endurance, flying at Claudia with a knife she had ‘forgotten’.

  What about ‘that travel woman’? Verity handled all the travel arrangements, Kingsley had said. And Verity had been quick to point out that the agency had been very expensive. Had Claudia and Kingsley been too trusting, leaving arrangements – and payments – to Verity? Had Verity been inflating invoices and skimming off the extra for herself? Or had she been cheating Polly Parsons in some way? And had the travel agent found out and arrived to expose her?

  Or had she been discovered earlier, by Claudia, who had made the mistake of confronting her before telling Kingsley about it? Verity would not have hesitated to kill to keep Kingsley from knowing.

  Had Verity killed Claudia, not in an insane burst of jealousy, but just to cover up a bit of common ordinary larceny? Could it be as simple as that?

  ‘ … Verity? … Margot?’ Nan’s voice could be heard calling, coming closer. ‘Ah — here you are.’ She came into sight and advanced on Verity. ‘I’ve brought you your water.’

  ‘Oh,’ Verity said flatly. ‘How kind.’ By this time, she had forgotten she had ever asked for it. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered.’

  ‘No bother at all.’ Nan held the glass out to her. ‘I brought a couple of aspirins, too, they can’t do any harm.’

  ‘So kind.’ Verity looked at them as though she was not too sure of that. She made no attempt to take them. Did she think they might be poison?

  ‘It’s getting cold out here.’ Nan looked around and shivered. ‘Come inside and have a drink before – You are staying for dinner?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Verity looked to Kingsley.

  ‘You can stay,’ he told her. It was not the answer she wanted. ‘I’m afraid I must get back to town.’

  ‘You’re always so busy.’ Nan’s tone was just short of scolding. ‘You ought to spend an evening here with Lynette. Have dinner with her in her room and play cards afterwards, or just watch television. It would do Lynette a world of good.’

  ‘Lynette …’ Kingsley sighed deeply. ‘You’re right, I know. I must organise things so that I can s
pend more time with her. Perhaps, if she continues to improve, we could take a little trip together, just the two of us – ’

  ‘Oh!’ Verity’s sharp involuntary movement had sent water splashing into her lap. ‘Oh!’ She leaped to her feet, dropping the glass; more water showered her before the glass hit the grass to roll away unbroken.

  ‘Look at that!’ Nan said. ‘You can’t stay out here now, you’ll catch your death of cold. Come inside and we’ll find you something dry to wear.’

  ‘Yes … No …’ Verity was trying to brush away the water which was rapidly saturating her skirt.

  ‘All right.’ She surrendered ungraciously. Nan took her elbow and urged her firmly towards the house. Verity looked back over her shoulder, obviously unwilling to leave Margot and Kingsley alone together.

  But it was Lynette who was her real rival. First Claudia and now Lynette. Verity would never command the whole-hearted devotion she craved, the undivided attention she longed for from Kingsley … not while Lynette was alive to come between them.

  If Kingsley were to marry Verity, how long would Lynette survive?

  ‘I suppose we ought to go in, too.’ Kingsley had risen to his feet, now he turned to Margot.

  ‘Wait!’ She had to warn him.

  ‘Yes?’ He looked down at her with a trace of impatience. ‘What is it?’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘ … Verity,’ Margot stammered. ‘Verity did it.’

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Verity,’ she said softly but clearly, ‘killed that woman.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Kingsley spoke with absolute conviction. ‘She couldn’t possibly.’

  ‘She did. And … and probably Claudia, too.’

  ‘Now just a minute – ’ Kingsley started to sit down on the bench beside her, then changed his mind. Did he think she might be dangerous, that she might attack him? ‘That’s a very serious accusation. Verity could sue you for slander. How many people have you told this?’

  ‘No one else. Yet. I’ve just realised it.’

  ‘Then you’d better unrealise it. I know you’ve never liked Verity, but that’s a terrible thing to say. Why would Verity want to kill anyone?’