Evans to Betsy

by Rhys Bowen

  “And then put him in the cave?” Evan asked. “It would take a strong person to carry him the length of the beach and up the rocks, besides its being damned risky that they would be seen.”

  “That’s something we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” Hughes gave his birdlike nod again. “Interesting case, Evans. Come on then. Let’s get started.” They had reached the former stately home that now housed administration and reception. Hughes went up the front steps, pushed open the swing door, and walked through as if he owned the place. Evan and Betsy followed. “I’ve taken over Lady Annabel’s office,” Hughes said, as if this were a perfectly natural thing to do. “Let her know that I’ll be ready for her in about half an hour. We’ll start with you, my dear. I’m sure you’ve got some fascinating things to tell us.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir.” Betsy blushed with pleasure.

  “Right. Then let’s get to it, shall we?” Hughes sat himself at Lady Annabel’s desk and indicated an upright wooden chair for Betsy. He didn’t motion for Evan to sit. “Your name is?”

  “Betsy Edwards, sir. Well, Elizabeth Edwards really, but I’ve always been called Betsy.”

  “And you come from the village of Llanfair?”

  “That’s right, sir. Llanfair born and bred, as they say.”

  “And what sort of work do you do, Betsy?”

  “Until last week I was working at the Red Dragon—that’s the pub in Llanfair. Maybe you know it.” Hughes nodded. “But then I started working here at the Sacred Grove.”

  “What made you change jobs? I’d imagine it’s a long complicated journey each day for someone who doesn’t have a car. You don’t have a car, do you?”

  “Well, you see, sir, until now Emmy has been driving me to work each day.”

  “Emmy?”

  “The American lady. She’s the one who discovered my powers, sir.”

  “Emmy?” The D.C.I. consulted his list. “How does she come into this? She’s not on my list as working here.”

  “No, sir. She doesn’t work here. She’s a university lady, studying about people who have psychic powers. And she was living up in Llanfair until—well until this morning.”

  Hughes looked across to Evan. “I don’t think we should let this woman go without having a word with her first. Do you know where she is living, Constable? Get her on the phone and tell her that she’s not to leave the area until I’ve spoken with her. Tell her I want her down here right away.”

  “Very good, sir.” Evan picked up the phone and dialed Mrs. Williams’s number, noticing that the D.C.I. looked impressed that he had the number down pat. He didn’t mention it was his former landlady’s house.

  “You’ve just caught her,” Mrs. Williams said. “You’re lucky she’s still here. She was planning to leave right after breakfast but her clothes were still wet on the line. She didn’t realize there wasn’t a clothes dryer in the village. ‘Nobody has a dryer around here,’ I told her. ‘We don’t go in for such things,’ I said. ‘Nothing wrong with a good old clothesline out in the wind, is there? You’d have to go down to Bangor to the laundromat if you want fancy things like clothes dryers,’ I told her. So she said …”

  “Mrs. Williams,” Evan interrupted. “Would you run outside and bring her to the phone before she drives away?”

  “Oh—or gore, right you are, Mr. Evans. Important, is it?” Mrs. Williams was startled by the abruptness of his interruption.

  “Very,” Evan said. “The chief inspector wants to speak to her.”

  “I was just heading out of the door,” Emmy said as she picked up the phone. “What’s up? I’ve got an afternoon flight to catch, so I don’t have much time.”

  “The chief inspector wants a word,” Evan said and handed the phone to Hughes. Let him be the one to tell her that she wasn’t going to catch her flight. He didn’t think Emmy was the kind of woman who would have her plans disrupted without protest. Sure enough, he heard the raised voice escaping from the phone and saw Hughes’s pained expression as he held the phone well away from his ear.

  “Just a minute, my dear young lady. I’m sorry if it’s disrupting your plans,” he said when he could get a word in edgewise, “but there has been a development concerning the death of Randy Wunderlich and you will be required to make a statement.”

  “That set her straight,” he said as he put down the phone. “Damned American women always have to have the last word.” He turned back to Betsy. “Now tell us how you came to be involved with this woman, Betsy.”

  “Well, sir, it was like this,” Betsy said. “She came into the pub and started asking questions. When she heard about my old nain having the second sight and seeing the Cannwyll Corff—ohh, I just remembered!” Betsy put her hand to her mouth. “When I went into Mr. Wunderlich’s office for the first time, what do you think I saw? There was a candle burning on his table. I should have known, shouldn’t I?”

  “I’d imagine that candles are a fairly normal occurrence for a New Age center,” Chief Inspector Hughes said dryly. “Go on with what you were telling us about this—Emmy person.”

  “Well, when Emmy heard that I was an only daughter of an only daughter, she said it was very possible that I had the second sight too and she’d like to take me to get tested. That’s when she brought me to the Sacred Grove, sir. And she did some tests with cards. She picked out cards with shapes on them and I had to guess what shape she was looking at and I got them nearly all right. So she said she wanted me to meet Mr. Wunderlich because he was a very famous psychic. So she took me down to see him and he tried a couple of tests, too, and then he said he wanted to work with me—to help me with my powers. Only …”

  “Only what, Betsy?”

  “Only he wasn’t there when I went for my first session alone with him. He’d said four o’clock right enough, but he wasn’t there. Well, sir, I was a little upset because I’d been looking forward to it. I just went home and I didn’t think no more about it. But when I got to work in the morning, I found the whole place in a tizzy. It seems nobody had seen Mr. Wunderlich since I’d taken him his coffee after lunch the day before.”

  “So you took him his coffee, did you?” Hughes scribbled in his notebook. “And what did you think of Mr. Wunderlich, Betsy.”

  “If you’ll pardon the expression, sir, I thought he was ever so sexy. Like a film star, just.”

  “Did any flirting go on between you and Mr. Wunderlich? Did he come on to you at all?”

  “Oh, no, sir. He’s a married man, sir. And anyway, Emmy was in the room with us, helping with the testing.”

  “So you liked him, did you?”

  “I didn’t know him well enough to like him, sir. He was nice enough to me when we met—and he did give me a job at the center so that I could be there when I was needed. That was kind of him.”

  “So let’s move on to the dream,” Hughes said. “Tell us about this dream you had, Betsy.”

  “The dream, sir? Well, it was like this—I went to bed that night and suddenly I dreamed I was standing outside this cave. I went in and it was all dark and it smelled wet and seaweedy, if you know what I mean. I could see something white lying there at the back of the cave. As I got closer, I saw it was Randy. I thought he was asleep and I went to touch him, but then I woke up. I ran to find Emmy and she said, ‘You’ve had a pyschic dream, Betsy. We’ll have to go and wake Constable Evans and get straight down to the Sacred Grove.’ Betsy glanced up at Evan for confirmation. “It was about four in the morning, wasn’t it, Evan?”

  Evan nodded.

  “When we got to the center, Lady Annabel said she knew where there were caves on the property, so Michael led us down to the beach and we found Randy’s body in the cave, just like I’d dreamed it. It was horrible, sir.”

  “I’m sure it was, Betsy,” the chief inspector said. “Tell me, do you often have dreams like this?”

  “Oh, no, sir. This was the first one. Leastways, it was the first one I knew about. Maybe I’d been dreaming abou
t things that had really happened before, but I never realized it until Emmy told me about my powers. I’ve always had vivid dreams, sir. But I thought they were just dreams … .”

  “Look, why don’t you go and get yourself a cup of tea and wait for us in the foyer,” Chief Inspector Hughes said. “I have to talk to a lot of people and then Constable Evans can take you home again.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Betsy said. “Glad to have been of help.”

  “Well, what do you think?” Hughes looked up at Evan.

  “About what?” Evan asked.

  “Did she do it?”

  Chapter 16

  Evan stared at Chief Inspector Hughes. “Kill Randy Wunderlich, you mean?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that a murderer has claimed to have dreamed where the body could be found—and she admits bringing him the cup of coffee, which could easily have contained the sleeping draught.” The chief inspector was looking rather pleased with himself, Evan thought.

  “With all respect, sir. That’s bloody stupid,” Evan said. “I’ve known Betsy for a couple of years now. Not the brightest girl in the world, a bit naive, easily impressed, but …”

  “She could have been working with someone else then. ‘Easily impressed,’ you say. Maybe someone else put her up to it.”

  “I can’t think who,” Evan said. “She only met these people a few days ago. And I said she wasn’t the brightest girl in the world, but she’s not stupid either. She’s got enough common sense not to go poisoning someone or claiming she’d had a dream. I saw her that night—she was shaking with fright. It wasn’t put on.”

  “I don’t believe in powers myself, Constable. If you say Randy Wunderlich didn’t kill himself, then someone had a good reason for wanting him dead. Let’s see which of them, shall we?” He glanced at his list. “I think we should start with Lady Annabel. Always look nearest to home when it comes to murder—that’s my number-one rule. Ten to one the spouse or next of kin did it! Tell Lady Annabel I’m ready to see her now.” He raised his hand in an imperious gesture that somehow looked right as it came from Lady Annabel’s chair.

  Evan was tempted to bow. “I’ll tell her, sir,” he said.

  Lady Annabel had dressed for the occasion. No warm-up suits today. She was wearing an expensive navy dress with a Hermes scarf at her throat and a large diamond on her finger. Her hair was lacquered into a perfect twist and her face was a serene mask of makeup. Even Hughes was a little taken aback as she swept in. He got to his feet. “Of course, you must have this chair, Lady Annabel.”

  “Thank you.” She took it without protest. Hughes perched himself on the wooden upright.

  “Now just a few questions about your husband’s death, if you don’t mind.”

  “Must we? This has been very painful for me, as I’m sure you understand, Inspector. All I want is his body returned to me for burial, and to be left alone in my grief.”

  “We’ll do all we can to return the remains to you, Lady Annabel, but I’m afraid your husband’s death can no longer be ruled accidental.”

  A little gasp came from Lady Annabel and she put her hand to her throat in a dramatic gesture. “Are you saying that somebody killed him?”

  “Or that he killed himself.”

  “Oh, no. Not Randy. Randy loved life. He had so much to live for. He’d never, ever kill himself.”

  “Then the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better,” Hughes said. “With your cooperation, Lady Annabel?”

  “But of course. What would you like to know?”

  “Your name is Lady Annabel Bland-Tyghe? Is that correct?”

  “Actually my name is Mrs. Randal Wunderlich,” she said. “People around here have known me as Lady Annabel all my life, so I decided to keep it. Randy thought it created the right image for the place.”

  “And how long had you been married?”

  Her face creased in pain. “Not even a year. We were married last summer, in Las Vegas.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying so—” Hughes cleared his throat “—you seem a very unlikely couple. How did you meet?”

  “Randy saved my life,” she said simply.

  “He did? How?”

  “I went through a stage of intense depression. My father had died and I didn’t know how I was going to be able to pay the death taxes to keep the property that I loved so much. I was just drifting. I didn’t know what I was going to do next. I was visiting friends on the East Coast and my friend Dodie had become a real disciple of the New Age. She told me about this marvelous psychic hot line. So I called and Randy was wonderful. He told me so many things about myself and when he heard all my troubles—about trying to hang onto the property—he was so positive and supportive. I called him again and again and one thing led to another. He flew across from California to meet me and it was incredible. He told me his vision for a center he wanted to build—a place that would encompass healing and spirituality and psychic gifts. And when he described it—you won’t believe this—it was my property he was talking about!”

  Her face had become alight with joy. “When I showed him pictures, he was as flabbergasted as I was. It seemed as if we were meant to be together, didn’t it? So we flew to Las Vegas, got married, and came here to put Randy’s vision into action.”

  “When did you say that was? Last summer?” Hughes asked.

  Lady Annabel nodded. “Our timing was poor, unfortunately. We had wanted to have the place up and running for the summer holidays, but by the time everything was in place, it was already mid-September—too late to attract many guests. We’ve had a pretty grim winter, actually. It’s not inexpensive to operate a place of this scale. But we were so hopeful for this summer season. Bookings were coming in. We were starting to get some publicity. Everything would have been wonderful.” She pressed her lips together and composed herself. “Now I don’t know anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hughes said. “Do you think you’ll have to close the place?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Annabel said. “It was Randy’s dream. I can’t let his dream die, can I? I’m going to soldier on, I suppose. I come from a long line of fighters.”

  She gave him a brave smile.

  “If I could just ask you a couple of questions about Mr. Wunderlich’s death, Lady Annabel.”

  She nodded.

  “You say that things weren’t going well. You were experiencing financial difficulties. And yet you don’t for a moment consider that your husband’s death might have been suicide?”

  Annabel shook her head violently. “I’m sure of it, Chief Inspector. Randy was the eternal optimist. He was actually very excited this past week. He told me that good things were just about to happen. He saw the Sacred Grove as the center of lots of publicity and the bookings rolling in. He was a well-known psychic, you know.”

  Evan thought of the man he had seen coming up from the beach. He had certainly looked like someone who was relaxed and confident—rather full of himself, in fact.

  The chief inspector cleared his throat. “Which brings us to the next question, Lady Annabel. Can you think of anyone who wanted your husband out of the way?”

  “Nobody—everyone adored him. He was a likable man.”

  “So you’ve no idea of who might have slipped him a powerful drug and left him to drown?”

  Annabel looked horrified. “Is that what they did? Monstrous, absolutely monstrous. You have to catch him, Inspector.”

  “You sound sure that your husband’s killer was a man.”

  “Well, yes. It never occurred to me that it could be a woman, but …”

  Evan was watching her closely. Something had crossed Lady Annabel’s mind, “But surely a woman couldn’t have got Randy into that cave? Over all those boulders?”

  There was a tap on the door and the middle-aged man Evan only knew as Ben came in. “I don’t think it’s right that Annabel should be questioned alone, in her delicate mental state,” he said. “She’s not herself at the mom
ent, Inspector.”

  “It’s chief inspector, sir,” Hughes said, “and who might you be?”

  “I’m Benedict Cresswell, Annabel’s good friend and financial adviser.”

  “Do you live here too, sir?”

  “No, I was just down for a few days to discuss financial matters, then this happened, so I stayed on because Annabel needed me.”

  “So you were here when the—tragedy—happened?”

  “Oh, indeed, yes. Poor dear Annabel. I’ve never seen anyone so stricken with grief before.”

  Hughes got to his feet. “That will be all for now, Lady Annabel. Thank you. If you could notify your entire staff that I’d like to speak to them all later this morning. Can you have them assembled, say, at eleven-thirty?”

  “If you wish,” Annabel said, “although I really can’t think that any of my staff …” She left the sentence unfinished and went out. Ben Cresswell went to follow, but Hughes held up his hand.

  “A few questions first, sir, if you don’t mind. Seeing that you were here on the night of the tragedy.” He motioned to the upright chair as he walked around to resume sitting at Lady Annabel’s desk. “Now, sir. You say that you are Lady Annabel’s friend.”

  “Old and dear friend, yes. We used to play together as children. Our mothers were friends from finishing school days.”

  Evan had a chance to study the man for the first time. His was a formerly handsome face that, like Lady Annabel’s, had gone to seed. There were bags under his eyes and too many chins, while the red nose indicated either a life of fox hunting or too many whiskies. He was wearing an Aran sweater one size too small for him. The sort of man who would call people like Evan “my dear chap”—or even “chappie.” Probably ex-army.

  “And you are now her financial adviser?”

  “That’s right. Went into the City right after my army days. I took over the affairs of this estate when the old man started going— how shall I put it—rather peculiar. Of course, he was always eccentric, but what old family doesn’t have an eccentric now and then? What a boring old world it would be if everyone was sane and sensible, what?”