This seemed illogical to Lizzie. ‘But he wouldn’t murder her for her money; because once she was dead the money would go to someone else.’
‘Unless they were married and she’d made a will,’ said Ruth slowly. ‘Perhaps they were planning to get married. Fergus was always round at the house.’
‘Anyway,’ said Amelia, ‘ Jemima didn’t stand to inherit very much, as what little money her father left was tied up in a trust fund so that she couldn’t waste it. So I don’t know what put that idea in your head, Ruth. Anyway, there’s another thing,’ continued Amelia, ‘Jemima told me that Fergus was flying up to the Hebrides for a couple of weeks. Apparently, he’s directing some obscure play about the beginnings of Christianity in the islands. So I think we can forget him altogether.’
‘I suppose so,’ sniffed Ruth. ‘It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about it. Who did it? Why?’
‘Stop thinking,’ said Amelia briskly. ‘Let the police do that. They will find whoever it is. We’ve just got to cope with the loss of Jemima.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Ruth flung herself forward into her mother’s arms. ‘I don’t know how I can. Tom said I’ve got to be brave. But I don’t think I can.’ She broke down in tears again.
Lizzie did the only think she could think of. ‘I’m going to make everyone a cup of tea,’ she said firmly. ‘I know the way to the kitchen.’
Strange, she thought, as she busied herself in the large, but surprisingly old fashioned kitchen, how the English always turn to tea in moments of crisis. But turn they did, and Lizzie with them. She soon loaded a tray with a large pot of tea, milk, plenty of mugs, easier than juggling with cups and saucers she thought, found a packet of unopened shortbread biscuits, and took it all back into the living room.
Chapter 6
Maguire drove towards Avon Hall via a small winding B road; it was a different route and Tess was excited. She stood on the back seat, with her chin resting on the front seat beside him, instead of lying down. ‘You know we’re going somewhere different, don’t you old girl,’ said Adam affectionately. ‘We’ve got into a rut, haven’t we? Always going the same way, walking the same path, every day.’
When he reached the outskirts of Avon Hall, he pulled into a lay-by and got out his ordnance survey map. Why go into the grounds via the front gate? That was the way everyone expected the police to take. He looked at the map carefully and found a back entrance to the estate. A dotted red line indicated a footpath linking the B road and Avon Hall. He’d found the rear entrance to the Avon Hall estate quite easily, although there was no signpost now, only the remains of a weathered wooden finger post. The path was not too long, perfect for a walk on a sunny afternoon. He doubted there’d be anything of interest to be found but it was worth a look. It was narrow, not suitable for a car, only good for people or bicycles
The footpath was easy to follow as pebbles and moss marked it out. It must have been a well-used path once, thought Maguire, but now in the age of cars most people took the road to the house, rather than walking. Tess scampered on ahead in the sunshine, every now and then diving off into the undergrowth following an exciting scent. Maguire didn’t need to call her; she always came back and didn’t venture far. She was coming back now. He smiled. She was bringing him something in her mouth. Sitting before him, she dropped her prize. Maguire bent down to retrieve it. It was a flat black ballet type shoe, very pretty, with leather daisies sewn across the front. Was it one of Jemima’s shoes? Phineas would know. He had a good memory for that kind of thing, and he’d seen her when she was waitressing.
Maguire felt in his pockets. Of course, sods law, he didn’t have any plastic forensic bags with him, only dark green dog poo bags. That would have to do. He carefully dropped the shoe inside the green bag trying not to handle it too much, and hoping that Tess hadn’t chewed it. But there was nothing he could do about that!
Trying to persuade Tess to show him where she’d found it in the undergrowth proved fruitless. In the end, he tied his handkerchief to the nearest bush on the footpath to mark the spot, and then continued on his way towards the house. He hoped that the forensic team might still be working in the vicinity of the ice house, and also that the elusive Harold Villiers had come home. It seemed strange that no one knew where he was. Obviously the Villiers family didn’t communicate much with each other.
*
The SOCO team were packing up and removing all their blue and white plastic tapes and other stuff, piling it up beside the trunk of the fig tree, when he arrived at the icehouse. Ducking down beneath the overhanging fig branches, he asked Dave Harvey, the senior of the team, if they’d found anything.
‘Not a sausage,’ said Dave. ‘And we’ve been very thorough, gone right down to the bottom of the place. Found a lot of broken pottery, all of it Victorian I should think, but nothing of any significance to us. I think Phineas is correct. The body was dumped here hastily after death and then left, with the killer intending to come back and make a better job of hiding the evidence, but he didn’t have time because the body was discovered by the old gardener.’
The other two members of the team replaced the broken wooden door across the entrance to the icehouse, then slapped a red sign saying DANGER across the pieces of wood.
Maguire nodded towards it. ‘I suppose that will have to do. It’s the Estates’ responsibility to sort it out now. I’ll speak to Bert Grayer and get him to do a proper job of making the place safe again.’
He walked back through the garden, past the heavily scented lavender bushes, towards Avon Hall itself. Dave Harvey walked with him. ‘Thank goodness we’ve finished here, now we can get off down to Christchurch, and that’s going to take the rest of the weekend. It looks like the Dorset lot have busted a big cannabis ring. They’ve found a virtual forest of the weed.’
Maguire didn’t reply. He’d been about to ask if they could go over to the footpath through the woods to Avon Hall this afternoon, but now Dorset had got their claim on the SOCO team before him. That’s what comes of sharing facilities, he thought moodily. It saves money, but it certainly doesn’t save time.
‘How’s the enquiry going?’ asked Dave suddenly.
‘Slowly,’ replied Maguire.
‘Not surprised,’ said Dave. ‘The Villiers family are a funny lot; you won’t get much information out of them, even though one of their own has been murdered. Keep themselves to themselves, they do. Never join in with village things. Won’t even allow the village fête to be held in the grounds of Avon Hall, and goodness knows they have enough space.’ Dave snorted with annoyance.
‘You seem very het up about it,’ said Maguire curiously.
‘Yes, well, my wife Beryl is on the fete committee for Avinton, and this year we can’t use the village sports ground because a new football pitch is being laid, so she asked if the village could use some of the grounds in part of Avon Hall. She was sent away with a flea in her ear by Amelia Villiers. Very hoity-toity she was. Left Beryl in no doubt whatsoever that she didn’t want to mix with the common people of the village.’
‘Why don’t you have it on the Stibbington sports ground?’ asked Maguire.
‘Because it’s for Avinton, our village. Stibbington is not a village, it’s the nearest town.’
‘I haven’t lived here long enough to pick up on all these fine differences,’ said Maguire, pulling a face. ‘I tend to think that Avinton is part of Stibbington.’
Dave laughed. ‘You’ll learn, sir’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of rivalry between Avinton and Stibbington, even though we’re the smaller of the two places.’
They reached the end of the walled gardens and Avon Hall now stood before them, mellow and beautiful, basking in the afternoon sunshine. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see several cars parked at the side in a small yard. He thought one of them belonged to Lizzie. What was she doing here?
*
He met Lizzie on the steps of Avon Hall as she was coming out, accompanied by Mrs Villiers. He coul
d see that the chatelaine of the Hall was not best pleased to see him.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded brusquely. ‘I thought your lot had finished the investigation.’
‘The investigation will not be finished until we have found out who murdered your niece,’ said Adam firmly. ‘And I’m afraid that as she was found here, the enquiries must, of necessity, involve everyone at Avon Hall, and the environs.’
Mrs Villiers tut-tutted in annoyance. ‘I need to get the Hall and grounds open again as soon as possible. With this fine weather, and the lavender in bloom, we always get a surge in numbers, and we need the money.’
Lizzie stepped forward, unsure of why there should be hostility between Maguire and her patient, but anxious to calm the situation. ‘I came to see Mrs Villiers, because she is very upset by Jemima’s murder.’
‘I can understand that,’ replied Adam, but privately he thought that all Amelia Villiers seemed to care about was the money Avon Hall was losing through being closed.
‘There’s nothing for you to see or do here,’ snapped Amelia, turning to climb back up the steps.
‘Ah, but now he is here, I’m sure he will want to speak to Simon’s sister, Ruth,’ said Lizzie persuasively. ‘After all she is still in the living room, and it will save the Chief Inspector coming back and troubling you again. And it will help Ruth if she can get all the questioning over and done with as soon as possible.’ She turned to Adam. ‘Ruth was working with Jemima on the night of the perfume launch. And,’ Lizzie paused and rummaged in her handbag, ‘I found this. It’s a list of all the casual staff employed that night. My daughter left it behind, along with her jacket and a scarf, which she also forgot; I’m sending them on to her.’ Adam frowned. ‘Louise is a bit of a scatterbrain, I’m afraid,’ said Lizzie, ‘but I thought you would probably need this.’
Maguire took the crumpled piece of paper. ‘My team should have got this from her by email,’ he said crossly.
‘I expect they did ask,’ said Lizzie soothingly. ‘But, as I said, I’m afraid Louise is not the most organized of people, and once she’s done something she forgets it and moves on to the next thing. She never reads old emails.’
‘And makes life difficult for everyone,’ grunted Maguire.
‘Well, she doesn’t generally have people murdered after her events,’ said Lizzie quickly, ‘so it’s not usually important.’
Mrs Villiers came down the steps, stood in front of Adam and glowered. ‘If you must talk to Ruth,’ she said. ‘I suppose you must. But I wasn’t going to tell you she was here until after the weekend. I wanted her to have some peace and quiet. However, you must promise me not to upset her. She’s had a terrible shock. In fact she was hysterical at the news. You see she didn’t know anything about Jemima’s murder until she got here.’
‘I’ll be considerate with her,’ said Adam quietly. ‘It is not my intention to upset anybody.’ He paused, and then asked, ‘what about your husband, Mr Villiers? Is he back here yet? Do you know where he is?’
‘Oh yes, of course I know where he is. He’s at our London House in Chelsea. He’s just come back from China.’ Mrs Villiers flounced back up the steps and stopped, leaving Lizzie and Adam standing staring at each other. ‘By the way,’ she shouted back over her shoulder, ‘you can’t bring that dog into the house, there are two here already. They will fight.’
Lizzie shrugged. ‘She didn’t tell me anything about foreign travel.’
‘Bloody woman,’ muttered Adam, ‘my dog never fights, and this is the first time I’ve heard China mentioned. I don’t believe it. There’s no way he could have gone to China and be back here by now.’
‘Do you think she’s hiding something? Something to do with Jemima’s murder?
‘God knows,’ said Adam. ‘The only thing I am certain of is that I’m not being told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth!’ He turned and climbed the steps into the house, and handed Lizzie Tess’s lead. ‘Take her home for me will you, please. Thanks. Goodbye.’ With that he was gone.
Lizzie would have liked to have been there when Adam interviewed Ruth, but he’d said goodbye very firmly, and left Tess with her. ‘Try not to upset her,’ she shouted after him.
She’d taken a liking to Ruth. She was obviously genuinely upset, whereas she was not so certain about Amelia Villiers’ grief, which seemed to blow hot and cold.
As she left Avon Hall, Tess sitting on the front seat looking happy because unlike Adam, Lizzie always let her sit there, she suddenly realized that she had not fulfilled her stated aim of checking Amelia Villiers’ blood pressure. But with all the drama of Ruth finding out about Jemima it had been forgotten. So much for my front as the extra caring doctor, thought Lizzie, and felt yet another twinge of guilt.
*
With his unexpected Saturday afternoon off Steve Grayson had been called up for a game of cricket. Stibbington were playing Little Hinton at the cricket ground in Nutley, a small picturesque village outside of Stibbington. He had a hasty lunch, packed his cricket bag into his car and set off to Nutley, much to the disappointment of Ann, who had been hoping he might tackle the lawn, which badly needed cutting. She declined to go to the match; she’d had quite enough of sitting around on the edge of cricket pitches while being bitten to death by mosquitoes. Instead she took baby George in his new pushchair and walked down the high street of Stibbington where she met Lizzie, who still had Tess in tow.
Lizzie stopped to admire the baby. ‘He’s beautiful and growing so fast,’ she said. ‘You must be proud of him.’
Ann blossomed with pride. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m bringing him into Honeywell Health Centre next week for his nine month check-up.’
‘Well, I’m sure he’ll tick all the right boxes.’
‘Yes, I like going to the health centre, there’s always someone to talk to,’ said Ann.
Lizzie wondered if she was lonely. ‘I suppose Steve is busy working on the latest case this afternoon,’ she said.
‘No, he isn’t,’ Ann replied. ‘Maguire gave him and Kevin Harrison the rest of the weekend off, but instead of staying in with me and George, he’s gone to play cricket at Nutley.’
‘How about coming down with me to the harbour, and having a cup of tea at the Seashell café,’ Lizzie heard herself saying.
*
George was safely ensconced in a high chair and given a rusk biscuit to gnaw on. Ann looked at Lizzie, and said, ‘this is a nice surprise, having someone to talk to. I’ve been feeling a bit depressed lately.’
Oh dear, thought Lizzie. I’ve let myself in for a bit of post-natal depression counselling. But Ann’s next words surprised her.
‘I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about Jemima Villiers ever since I heard about her murder. But Steve told me not to gossip.’
A waitress came to their table and Lizzie ordered a cream tea for two. ‘You can gossip to me,’ she said with a smile. ‘That’s what we women are known for, by men anyway. So tell me what is the gossip you want to get off your chest.’
‘I have mentioned it to Steve,’ said Ann slowly. ‘But he didn’t even make a note of it. He said it was schoolgirl tittle-tattle and that I should keep quiet, or the Villiers might sue me for libel, or is it slander?’
‘If you tell me, but don’t write it down, it’s slander,’ said Lizzie. ‘But only if it isn’t true.’
‘That’s the problem.’ Ann looked serious. ‘I don’t know for certain whether it’s true or not. But if it is, it might have something to do with her murder, and I think someone should know.’
‘So what is the problem?’ asked Lizzie. ‘Why can’t you speak about it?’
‘Because everyone in Stibbington knows something. But nobody will ever say anything. And I don’t want to be known as the person who let the cat out of the bag.’
‘There’s no need for anyone to know who “let the cat out of the bag” as you say. If it’s true, then there will be facts that can be traced. And if it’s n
ot true, then nothing will be found, and I certainly will not tell anyone what you tell me.’
Ann took a long slow sip of her tea, and then began to speak.
Chapter 7
Maguire was prepared for an uncomfortable interview suspecting that Ruth might be as unwilling as her mother to participate in his questioning. He chose to sit on the most comfortable looking armchair in the main living room, but immediately regretted the choice. The stuffing was non-existent and he sank down into the cushions so that his knees were almost under his chin. He was tempted to lever himself up and move, but then realized it would entail an undignified manoeuvre, so reluctantly stayed where he was. Mrs Villiers was already sitting in another armchair, but didn’t sink down, obviously more stuffing, thought Maguire enviously.
Ruth said, ‘just a moment,’ and disappeared, returning with a glass of liquid. ‘Lemonade,’ she said, waving it at Maguire. ‘I’ve asked Janet to rustle up some tea for everyone else,’ she added.
She was pale, looked as if she had been crying, but was quite composed - not in hysterical shock as her mother had said. He pulled himself up as straight as he could and got out his small recorder. ‘Do you mind if I record this interview?’ he asked.
Ruth shook her head. ‘You have your job to do, I know that.’
Mrs Villiers sniffed loudly, and Maguire took the sniff for disapproval but ignored her.
He began by asking Ruth how she came to be working at the Country House Hotel, then moved on to Jemima and Simon’s relationship. ‘Were they fond of each other?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ said Ruth. ‘We’ve all known each other since babyhood. We grew up together. So yes, definitely he was fond of her.’ She paused, and added slowly, ‘he didn’t approve of her boyfriend though…,’ her voice tailed off.
‘Why not?’ asked Maguire.
Ruth sighed. ‘Simon thought he wasn’t good enough for Jem. So did I. She was clever, brilliant in fact, very academic, and,’ she added, ‘ beautiful.’
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