by Rhys Bowen
“Someone with a grudge against your brother.”
“But who would come all the way out here, to this remote spot to do it?”
“Maybe it was easier to find him alone out here,” I said. “Or someone didn’t originally mean to kill him but seized the opportunity.”
“If it wasn’t an outsider, then it had to be one of us,” she said quietly. “That’s the thought I can’t get out of my mind. One of our family. But it couldn’t be. Just couldn’t.”
“I’m sure the police will find the person who did it,” I said, although I was not at all sure.
“My poor little Sam is so cut up about it,’ she said. “Hardly said a word since it happened and not eaten a thing either, which is shocking in itself if you knew Sam. Eats like a horse that boy. Always has. Skinny as a rake too. I don’t know where he puts it sometimes but he sure loves to eat.” She smiled for a moment then her face became solemn again. “I don’t know what will happen to him now. He was starting to run wild until Brian took him under his wing. With a no-good father like that and my poor daughter burdened with a new baby every year it’s no wonder that no one had time for the boy. He started running with the wrong crowd—going with a gang, you know. Junior Eastman, he called himself.”
“I know the Eastmans. In fact I’ve met Monk Eastman more than once.”
“Holy Mother—have you indeed?”
“I used to have my own detective agency. Sometimes it took me to the less savory parts of the city. And Monk recruits them young. Your Sam is well out of it.”
“Brian stepped in as soon as he found out,” she said. “He brought the boy to live with him and started him working for the company as messenger boy. Made sure he worked him hard too so that he had no time for bad companions. But now what? I’d take him in, of course, but he doesn’t listen to an old woman. And Joseph—well, Joseph only cares about himself and money. And a fine sort of example he’d be for the boy. Look how Terrence has turned out.”
“He seems a pleasant enough young man to me,” I said.
She sniffed. “My dear. I can’t tell you the number of times his father has had to pay his bills—gambling debts, unpaid wine bills, girls he’s got in the family way. His mother has washed her hands of him, I can tell you. And even Brian could do nothing for once, because Jo wouldn’t let him take over the boy. They almost came to blows over it.”
She lifted the egg from the boiling water and found an eggcup. “You’ll no doubt want to take this up to him yourself,” she said.
I agreed and carried the tray upstairs. Daniel roused as I came into the room and I helped him into a sitting position. He was as weak as a kitten and lay back gasping as I propped pillows behind him.
“Try and get some of that egg down you,” I said. “You need building up now.”
“I can’t think how I let something like a little cold get the better of me,” he said. “And look at you—the picture of health.”
“Just you remember who the strong one is,” I said, smiling.
I paused, hearing a knock at the front door, then Mrs. Flannery’s voice.
“I hope that’s not Prescott again,” Daniel said. “I don’t feel in any state to speak to him now.”
Words were being exchanged downstairs. I couldn’t make them out but then I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I stepped out to intercept the visitor and found that it was the doctor.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” he said. “I’ve just been told the good news about your husband. So the fever broke by itself, did it? Oh, that is a relief. I have to tell you that I was expecting the worst this morning. I didn’t think the poor man would make it through the night.”
“Not only made it through the night but is currently eating breakfast,” I said and ushered him into the bedroom.
“You are a fortunate young man, sir,” he said to Daniel. “You clearly have a strong constitution to fight off the disease when it had such a grip on you.” He took out his stethoscope and started listening to Daniel’s chest. When he’d finished he nodded.
“Not out of the woods yet by any means,” he said. “There’s still a lot of fluid on the lungs. So no exertion, no excitement for a while yet. You’re not to move from this bed until I say so, and that’s an order.”
I followed him down the stairs. “Thank you for coming out in the night like that,” I said. “I’m so relieved. If I write out a telegram, I wonder could you arrange to have it sent from the telegraph office when you go back to town? I don’t want to leave him yet but I’d like his dear ones to know that he’s not going to die.”
The doctor shook his head and at first I thought he was refusing to send the telegram, but then he leaned closer to me. “I’d wait a little longer if I were you. He is not out of the woods yet. A relapse is all too possible with a disease like pneumonia. I’ve seen it many times. So hold off sending your good news for a while and make sure you keep him in bed, keep him quiet, on an invalid diet.”
“I will, don’t worry. You’ll be sending us the bill, will you?”
“I most certainly will. Extra money for being woken from my beauty sleep.” He smiled and patted my hand before he put his hat on his head and departed.
A young woman called Martha arrived soon after and Mrs. Flannery went back to the bickering at the big house. Daniel was asleep when I came to collect his tray, so I left Martha busy in the kitchen and went outside. I felt that I needed a breath of ocean air in my lungs after everything I’d been through that night. It was another perfect day for sailing, with a stiff breeze and puffy white clouds racing across a blue sky. I expected that Archie Van Horn was miffed that he couldn’t compete in his yacht races.
There was no sign of the family, nor of the gardeners and I strolled through the trees and down to the ocean front. Then I sat on a log and watched the sea birds and the waves. The sound of feet on gravel made me look up and there came the two little boys in their identical sailor suits, marching side by side at a great rate down the path, while their nursemaid struggled to keep up with them, gasping every now and then, “Slow down, boys. Do you hear me? Slow down.”
As the boys came closer to me I stood up. “Are you two in trouble again?” I asked.
They stopped and grinned at me. “We’re not allowed to play, you see,” the older one (Was it Alex?) said. “Because of grandpapa. And it was so boring sitting in the house and reading on a fine day that we begged Mama and she said we could walk around the grounds if Bridget stayed with us, but we weren’t to run.”
“So we weren’t running,” the younger one (Thomas, if I remembered correctly.) joined in. “But we were seeing how fast we could walk.”
“You boys will be the death of me,” the nursemaid said. “You don’t do a thing you’re told. Well, your father is going to hear of this.”
“But we weren’t running, Bridget. It’s not our fault if you only have little legs and we have long ones,” Alex said.
“I don’t believe you’re allowed anywhere near the cliffs,” I reminded them. “You know what your mother feels about that.”
“We thought we’d take a look for ourselves at the place where they found grandpapa’s body.” Thomas said. “We won’t go really near the edge.”
“You’ll go nowhere near it. I’ll walk you back to the house,” I said. “The last thing you want to do right now is give your poor parents more worry. Your mother has lost her father. She’s naturally very upset. You should try to be good boys and comfort her. I expect you miss your grandfather too, don’t you?”
“I suppose so,” Alex said. “We didn’t see him very much and he was rather bossy. We always had to mind our manners with him.”
“He was your grandfather,” I pointed out. “It’s up to you to show respect to his memory.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alex said. Then his face lit up again. “You’ll never believe what we saw last night—we saw a ghost. Mama won’t believe us, but we did.”
Thomas also looked excited. “It was a white l
ady and she wafted across the lawn and then she vanished.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said, “but I suspect that was me. I ran across to the big house in the middle of the night. My husband was taken ill and I ran across wearing a shawl over my night clothes, so I was your white lady.”
Alex shook his head. “No. This white lady didn’t go anywhere near the front of the house. She ran to the tower at the side where there is no door. We tried to look down by hanging out of our window, but she had just vanished and there was nowhere she could have gone.”
“It was a ghost,” Thomas agreed. “We think we’ve heard ghostly noises before in this place but nobody believes us.”
“You believe us, don’t you?” Alex asked.
“That’s enough nonsense,” their nursemaid said. She took them both by the arm. “Ghosts indeed. Back into the house right now. March. On with you.”
They gave me a regretful look as they were borne away. A white lady who wafted across the lawn and then vanished. I didn’t like to tell them that I was inclined to believe them.
Twenty
I stood looking up at that turret as I made my way back toward the house. It stood solid and windowless at one corner of the castle, its stone sides covered in dense ivy looking incredibly old and foreboding. It was only at the very top, where the turret rose above the level of the battlements that there was a window—in which I had seen a strange child’s face. But the face I had seen had definitely been that of a child, and they were talking about a white lady. Was there more than one ghost that haunted this castle? It didn’t seem possible in a building so new.
I went back to Daniel and persuaded him to try a little broth.
“What news on Hannan’s death?” he asked. “Have I missed anything?”
“We’ve heard nothing more,” I said. “But I’ve had interesting chats with some family members. Mrs. Flannery, Brian’s sister, can’t believe that it would be a family member, but then she mentioned her grandson Sam who had become a Junior Eastman before Brian took him over.”
“And he was the one who supposedly discovered the body when he went out early to go fishing.” Daniel said the words thoughtfully. “I’d be interested to hear the coroner’s report on the time of death. Maybe the body hadn’t lain there since the night before after all.” He tried to sit up. “I wish I’d had a chance to—”
“Lie back. You’re not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “You heard what the doctor said. Absolute rest and quiet because of the possibility of a relapse.”
Daniel sighed. “It’s not easy to be at the scene of what could be an interesting murder and to watch it probably being bungled by a small-town cop.”
“Such prejudice.” I smiled. “You New Yorkers really do think you’re the bee’s knees, don’t you?”
“I just happen to be a top-notch detective who has solved any number of murders.”
“I seem to remember when we first met, you were about to throw me in jail for a murder I didn’t commit,” I reminded him.
“Well, you had guilt written all over you. And I got it right in the end, didn’t I?”
“Only just.” I pushed back the dark curl that had fallen across his forehead. “Anyway, I want you to go on being a brilliant detective for many years to come. So rest now. I’m going to take a little nap myself. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Daniel’s hand closed around mine. “You did a splendid job, Mrs. Sullivan.”
I went downstairs and lay on the sofa with the rug over me. I was just drifting off to sleep when there came a light tap at the front door. What now, I thought. No peace for the wicked. I paused to smooth down my hair before I opened the door. Irene Van Horn was standing there. The last time I had seen her she had been in her night attire with hair spilling over her shoulders and eyes red with crying. Now she was back to the perfect vision of loveliness I had seen the day before, except that the dress was dark-green shantung—the closest to black that she had brought with her, I suspected. Her face still looked pale against the dark fabric—like a delicate porcelain doll that might shatter easily.
“Mrs. Sullivan. How is your husband doing?”
“Much better, thank you. His fever is down and he seems to be making good progress.”
“I am glad.” She gave me a tired smile. “I was just talking to my husband and he commented how distressing it must be for you to have your honeymoon turned into such chaos. I’m sorry but with our own grief we have not given much thought to you and your needs until now.”
“That is quite understandable, Mrs. Van Horn. May I say how sorry we are about your father. I could see how distressed you were yesterday morning and wished I could have done something to help.”
“Most kind,” she said. “But there’s nothing you or anyone can do. He’s gone. I’ll never see him again.” She put her hand up to her mouth, then composed herself. “My duties are now to the living. We would have invited you to dinner, but we suspected you would not want to leave your husband for that length of time.”
“No, I think I should keep a close eye on him for the next few days.”
“So we hoped at least you’ll come out and take tea with us on the lawn. It’s a lovely afternoon and tea on the lawn is something of a tradition at Connemara. My father’s chef is famous for his scones and éclairs.”
“Thank you. I’d like that,” I said.
“In about half an hour then.” She smiled again then walked away. I watched her go, wondering if I would have been so composed and gracious after the shocking death of a beloved father. She might have been spoiled but she had been raised with perfect social graces.
I went back into the house, splashed cold water on my face to revive me, then went upstairs to make myself presentable. Daniel was sleeping, but Martha was in the kitchen, having started work on our supper. I asked her to keep an eye on him and went off to take tea with the family.
The whole family assembled on the lawn next to the tower, seated in various poses in an assortment of wicker chairs. Elegant and unmoving, they created almost a replica of yesterday’s tableau, only this time they were suitably dressed: the men in dark suits, Mrs. Flannery in black, and Irene in dark green. The only differences were that on this occasion the two little boys sat on stools at their father’s feet. Also two maids in white caps and aprons stood by a white-clothed table, laden with a silver tea service and cake stands piled with various delights.
Mrs. Van Horn saw me coming and reached out a hand to me, thus breaking the tableau effect. “Mrs. Sullivan. Welcome. Do come and sit down.” She gestured gracefully to a wicker armchair beside her. “Alice, bring Mrs. Sullivan a cup of tea. Do you take oolong or Earl Grey, Mrs. Sullivan?”
I’d tried oolong but wasn’t so sure about the other. Still it was time to broaden my horizons. “Earl Grey, thank you.”
Tea was poured for me and luckily milk was offered. I knew that Daniel’s mother took her Chinese tea with lemon and I wasn’t so fond of that. I took a sip and was somewhat startled by the scented taste. Really the upper classes did eat and drink the strangest things.
“And how is your poor husband, Mrs. Sullivan?” Mrs. Flannery asked.
“Much better, thank you. Definitely on the mend.”
“That’s good news,” Joseph said. “You’ll no doubt be wanting to get him home as quickly as possible. I’m sure we could arrange transportation for you.”
“That’s kind, but the doctor stressed that Daniel was not to be moved for a while, at least until he says so.”
I noticed a flicker of annoyance cross Joseph’s face. I wondered why he was so very keen on removing us from the premises. The thought crossed my mind that we had accidentally seen him arriving early with his ladylove and perhaps he wanted that fact concealed from the family. I wondered if he had any other secrets he didn’t want universally known.
“Of course the poor man can’t be moved yet, Jo. What were you thinking?” Mary Flannery said sharply. “It’s not as if th
ey’re bothering you, stuck away in that poky little cottage.”
“It’s a very comfortable little cottage,” Joseph said. “As you know, I enjoy staying there myself.”
“And we well know its attraction for you,” Terrence said smoothly and got a look of venom from his father. Terrence turned to me without batting an eyelid. “Do have a scone and jam, Mrs. Sullivan, or would you prefer to start with a sandwich? They’re watercress or potted shrimp, I believe.”
I took a shrimp sandwich, feeling awkward now—the cuckoo in another bird’s nest—and wished I hadn’t accepted their invitation. I could easily have said that Daniel couldn’t be left alone and now here I was sitting among people who clearly didn’t want me there. I nibbled at my sandwich.
“What I want to know is how long we’re expected to hang around here, doing nothing,” Joseph said. “I should be back in the office tomorrow, especially now I’ll have to take over Brian’s share of the work too.”
“You know we can’t go anywhere until the police have released Irene’s father’s body,” Archie said. “And we still need to come to a decision on funeral arrangements.”
“That’s another reason for being able to go back to the city tomorrow,” Joseph said. “A visit to his attorney and the reading of his will should clear up a lot of things for us. Until then we can’t proceed.”
“It would be funny if he’d left the whole kit and caboodle to the least likely of us,” Terrence said, with his customary grin. “To young Sam, maybe.”
Sam blushed bright red. “Don’t be silly, Terry,” he said. “You saw what he thought of me. I was the messenger boy. At least you got an office, even if you never worked in it.”
“Hey, none of your cheek, young fella,” Terrence said. “Some of us are not cut out for the daily grind. I’ve got the brains, others can have the brawn.”
“Then it’s about time we saw a demonstration of the use of those brains,” Joseph said coldly. “Frankly the way you’ve been acting recently would indicate to me that you have no brains at all—or at least no common sense.”
