‘Fish and chips it is,’ said Lizzie. ‘Meet you in half an hour.’
*
The path along the beach from Mudeford towards Highcliffe was busy with walkers and their dogs. A balmy southerly sea breeze blew in from the Isle of Wight as the sun set behind the distant hills of Dorset.
Lizzie inhaled a deep breath. ‘I’m glad I made the effort to come,’ she said. ‘This air is a tonic.’ They walked along in silence for a few minutes, Tess running on ahead excitedly sniffing at the patches of seaweed washed up by the tide. Then Lizzie decided to broach the subject of Harold Villiers and Hilda Thorne. ‘My cleaning lady, the sister of your Elsie Clackett, seems to have been keeping an eye on Harold Villiers. Did you know she’s been cleaning at Avon Hall for some years? Not the part open to the public, but the private apartments.’
Adam frowned. ‘No I didn’t know that. No one has ever mentioned it and I made it quite clear that I wanted to speak to everyone involved at Avon Hall.’
‘I told her that you may want to talk to her. She’s quite a busybody, and has kept a beady eye on the goings on of the Avon Hall family. For example, she knew that Harold Villiers had never gone away on business after the murder of Jemima, but had moved himself down to the Eel Lodge. She doesn’t know why, of course. But she’s been watching out for him and noticed that he cycled out towards Salisbury on a couple of occasions and wondered why.’
‘Perhaps he was intending to speak to Ruth,’ said Maguire slowly. ‘Maybe he was waiting to see if Ruth and Tom discovered the car had gone. Maybe...,’ his voice petered off. ‘No, it can’t be that. Nothing makes sense.’
‘Do you really think he planned to murder, or indeed did murder, his own daughter?’
They had reached the end of the sandy pathway and stood before the café, The Happy Lobster. Maguire stopped and leaned against the sea wall and stared out across the smooth evening sea towards the Needles on the Isle of Wight, now glistening white in the last rays of evening sunshine. ‘Much as I don’t want to think that, I’m afraid I do. Everything points towards Harold Villiers being the murderer. One, the threatening letter from Jemima, two, the car being taken, and then abandoned and burnt, and three, Harold himself disappearing, and then trying to commit suicide. Of course, we’ll have to wait until Phineas and Dave Harvey come back to me with all the test results, there should be plenty of evidence inside the car. We may never know when and how he took the car, but as long as we can prove he was in it that might be enough. Although I’d still like to know how the body was moved to the icehouse.’ He gave a deep sigh.
‘He must have wheeled it in something along the woodland path through to the icehouse. He’d certainly know of the path’s existence, and would have been strong enough to open the boarded up opening.’
‘You’re right of course, but we need proof.’ He sighed again. Tess came running back up the beach, and sat at her master’s feet, gazing up at him in a worried fashion.
‘She knows you are upset,’ said Lizzie, noting the sigh. ‘Is it because it’s a father -daughter murder? Does that fact bother you more than other types of murder?’
‘All murders bother me,’ replied Adam. ‘Rosemary and I never had children,’ he continued slowly, ‘but if we had, I cannot even bear to think about hurting a child of mine. Or any child come to that. But my own flesh and blood.’ He shivered.
‘But perhaps Harold truly didn’t know that Jemima was his daughter. DNA tests are a relatively recent thing; they couldn’t do them years ago. So perhaps he never had that bond, that father and daughter bond. And from what I’ve learned about the family they are not a close knit lot, always quarrelling and jealous of each other. And poor Jemima always seemed to be on the outside.’ Lizzie pulled a face, ‘but as for blood ties and affection, I’m afraid that doesn’t always follow either. I’ve come across some pretty awful cases in my work as a family doctor.’
Lizzie leaned against the wall beside Adam, and they both gazed out to sea. ‘Has anyone told Ruth and Simon that their father is dead?’ she asked.
Adam shook his head. ‘No, Amelia Villiers, as their mother, wanted to do that. And I assume that she will as soon as she gets back to Avon Hall. I just hope she does it before they get wind of the press statement. But the police can’t hold the hands of everyone.’ He sounded irritated, and Lizzie understood.
The outside lights of The Happy Lobster were suddenly switched on, reminding them that they had come out to eat. Inside, the café looked bright and inviting.
‘Come on,’ said Adam, levering himself upright. ‘No more miserable thoughts, let’s go and have something to eat. I wonder if they let dogs inside.’
‘Dogs welcome,’ said Lizzie, pointing to a sign at the bottom of the menu board.
‘Good,’ said Maguire and led the way inside. ‘I’ll tackle the matter of Hilda Thorne and her observations, the car and the forensic results, plus Thomas Maplin and Fergus Garrick, tomorrow. Let’s forget it for now, end the day on a calmer note.’
‘Amen to that,’ said Lizzie.
*
That day had passed slowly for Tom and Ruth. He was disappointed on discovering his car had been stolen, especially as the Police didn’t seem to take much notice or have much hope of finding it.
‘Huh! an old car,’ the policeman on the phone had muttered. ‘Been trashed and dumped somewhere, or else sold for scrap I expect. You’ll be lucky to get it back in one piece.’
Once he’d sorted out the details with the police he’d made up his mind to take Ruth to the beach. ‘I suppose we could go somewhere by bus,’ he’d said to a reluctant Ruth.
‘I hate buses,’ she said, ‘you know I always get travel sick. I don’t want to go anywhere.’
‘But I’ve made the sandwiches, and filled a flask with coffee, got chocolate bars and everything.’
‘Oh, just throw it all away,’ said Ruth, and burst into tears.
Tom put his arms around her. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to get so upset. It’s a lovely sunny day. Let’s go somewhere.’
Ruth sniffed miserably. ‘Where?’ she asked.
‘We’ll go down to the water meadows,’ said Tom firmly. ‘It will be lovely by the river.’ They were about to leave the house when the front door bell rang.
‘It must be the police,’ said Ruth, her voice shaking. ‘They must have found something.’
Tom put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. ‘Don’t be silly,’
It was not the police, it was a rather bad tempered Fergus Garrick who stalked past them and dumped a large haversack in the middle of the kitchen. He looked around. ‘Still the same disgusting dump I see,’ he said. ‘But at least it’s free.’
Tom stepped forward. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘You’re not thinking of staying here are you?’
‘Got no choice old man. The police want me to testify, or whatever they call it nowadays, about Jem’s murder. Bloody inconvenient as I’m due back at Nottingham in two days’ time.’
‘But what have you got to do with it? You were not even there the night she got killed.’
‘That’s where you are wrong unfortunately. I was there. Jem had arranged for me to meet up with one of the theatre directors. Rodney Cameron, he puts on a lot of shows at the Roundhouse in London, and Jem thought he’d be interested in my work.’ He lit a cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke, then said, ‘he wasn’t unfortunately, and even if he had been keen he couldn’t have afforded me. He pays peanuts.’
He went across to the sink, picked up a cup and washed it and put the kettle on. ‘You can’t stay here,’ said Ruth. ‘And put that cigarette out. This is a no smoking house. We like to stay healthy.’
‘So I see,’ snorted Fergus. ‘Still growing your own penicillin I notice.’ He waved a hand over the piles of mouldy plates and cups. ‘Anyway, why can’t I stay here? Jem’s not using her room now is she?’
Ruth burst into tears. ‘How can you be so bloody unfeeling,’ shouted To
m, and picking up the haversack he hurled it at Fergus. ‘Take this and get out,’ he shouted.
‘All right, all right.’ Fergus put the haversack on is back. ‘But before I go I need to go through Jem’s room. She’s got at least two books of mine, and she owes me twenty quid. She was always borrowing money.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Ruth. ‘She told me it was you who did the borrowing. Anyway none of us can go into her room. The police have sealed it and locked it. They say it’s part of the crime scene.’
‘Oh,’ said Fergus. ‘Did one of you do her in while she was asleep? Make a good plot for one of my plays. Sister stabbed through the heart whilst peacefully sleeping. Audiences like plenty of blood and guts these days, and of course she would need to be a lesbian. Was Jem a lesbian by the way? I often wondered because she wasn’t that keen on sex.’
Ruth threw herself at Fergus and scratched his face. ‘Get out. Get out,’ she screamed. ‘You are a hateful man; you’ve always been a hateful man.’
After that Fergus beat a hasty retreat, and Tom spent the next half hour calming Ruth, eventually persuading her to go to the water meadows which run alongside the ancient cathedral.
*
When they arrived the water meadows were full of people enjoying a lazy day picnicking beside the river. A few punts on their side of the river and on the other side a herd of cows slowly munching their way through the lush vegetation. A beautiful pastoral scene, but neither Ruth nor Tom enjoyed their day. Ruth was still weepy and bad tempered, and in the end, Tom gave up trying to cheer her and resorted to playing games on his iPhone until his battery ran out. Ruth hadn’t even brought her phone so he couldn’t use hers. They sat side by side staring disconsolately into the clear river water for most of the day, until at just after 6.00 clock when Tom suggested they walk into Salisbury. ‘Let’s go to the Bear and Ragged Staff,’ he suggested.
It was a popular haunt of students, and other young people congregated there as well after work. As there was nothing better to do, Ruth agreed. When they arrived, the beer garden was full of families with children, and Ruth was even more bad tempered. ‘I can’t stand all these shrieking kids out here,’ she said, and led the way inside the pub.
Tom didn’t comment, but thought the inside was dark and rather depressing, and that was something they certainly didn’t need. But Ruth found a table at the far end by the television, which was on. It was a local programme, a news round, and was just finishing when suddenly a news flash came on. Ruth pulled out a chair. ‘I’ll have a dry cider,’ she said.
As Tom moved towards the bar, he heard a sudden shriek and turned round. Ruth was standing up, ashen faced, and clutching her head. Then she collapsed, and fell on top of a group of three students at the next table. Mayhem ensued, as they all tried to pick up Ruth. She was much bigger than the other students, who were girls. Tom rushed back to help as they struggled with an unconscious Ruth. ‘What happened?’ he shouted.
Between them, they dragged Ruth from the table and on to a chair. One of the girls put Ruth’s head between her knees. ‘I think this is what you have to do,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I did a first aid course once.’
‘No, we should be doing CPR,’ said another in panic.
‘We don’t need that. She’s not dead,’ said Tom, as Ruth started groaning. ‘She’s just unconscious.’
The barman came rushing over with a glass of iced water, and tried to clear away the small crowd which had gather around Ruth’s now semi-conscious body. ‘Move away everyone,’ he ordered, ‘give the girl some air. Who is with her? Have you got a car?’
‘I am,’ said Tom, ‘and no we haven’t got a car.’ He turned to one of the female students who was trying to help Ruth sit upright. ‘Did you see exactly what happened?’
The girl shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Well, there was this news flash on the TV, and then she screamed and passed out.’
‘What news flash? I was at the bar.’
‘Oh, it was a police notice about some local bigwig being found dead at an eel lodge, of all places.’ She turned to the other girls, ‘I don’t even know what an eel lodge is, do you?’
‘What was the name of the man?’ interrupted Tom.
‘Oh, Harold someone, I think.’ She shook her head. ‘Can’t remember the other name, I wasn’t paying much attention.’
‘It was Harold Villiers.’ An elderly man at a nearby table leaned towards Tom. ‘Harold Villiers, from Avon Hall, that’s who they were talking about.’ He nodded at Ruth who was by now sitting up and holding on to the edge of the table, tears streaming down her face. ‘That’s his daughter isn’t it?’
‘Oh my God,’ said Tom. ‘Yes, this is his daughter.’ He put his arm around Ruth.
The barman took charge. He didn’t want this female, conscious or unconscious, and who was now looking as if she was going to have prolonged hysterics, on his premises. ‘I’ve got a taxi outside for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I think you’d best take her home.’
*
Phineas worked late that evening. Dave Harvey came in and dumped all the paperwork regarding the car, and other bits and pieces they found in it, on to Phineas’s desk. ‘It’s all very interesting,’ he said. ‘Although I’m not sure what Adam Maguire is going to make of it?’
‘Well, the first thing I can tell you is that he will want it all, every dot and comma, transferred to the computer. Not just as spreadsheets etc. He likes the information set out like in a novel, on paper, backed up by stuff on his laptop.’
Dave sighed heavily. ‘I’m not good at doing it like that, I’m good at spread sheets.’
Phineas leaned back in his chair and surveyed the young man before him. ‘You are going to have to get good at disseminating your information in a more literate form, because not only does Adam Maguire like it like that, the new Superintendent, one, Warren by name, who’ve you met, insists on it. He says spreadsheets give him word blindness.’
‘How ridiculous,’ snorted Dave.
‘That’s as maybe, but that’s how it’s got to be.’ Phineas pulled some of the printed pages towards him and started reading. ‘My God, Dave, are you sure of this?’
‘Yes, of course I’m sure.’
‘This turns Adam’s case on its head.’
‘Exactly! I was wondering if we should ring him now?’
Phineas picked up his phone. ‘Not yet. I’ll speak to Steve Grayson first. Find out what he’s up to.’ He scrolled down to Grayson’s number. ‘Ah Steve, glad to have caught you at home. I wonder, do you know what Maguire is up to?’
‘Yes, I think he and Lizzie Browne have taken the dog for a walk, afterwards Maguire said they were going to eat at The Happy Lobster down on Mudeford Quay. Why, has something important come up?’
‘Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,’ said Phineas. ‘Thanks Steve,’ he put the phone down, and looked across to Davey Harvey. ‘We might as well let him have a night in peace,’ he said. ‘Nothing is going to change between now and tomorrow morning.’
‘Huh! I shouldn’t count on that,’ said Dave.
Chapter 18
Dr Peter Lee took Amelia Villiers back to Avon Hall in his car, while Millie Jones followed behind, driving Amelia’s car. Once there, he settled Mrs Villiers with a mild sedative before making sure she was safely in bed. Luckily, he knew that Hilda Thorne had cleaned for the Villiers for years and rang her, asking if she would be willing to come up the house until either Simon or Ruth came home. Mrs Villiers was upset he explained, he didn’t want her to be left alone.
Hilda Thorne was only too willing to come. ‘She knows something is up,’ he told Millie. ‘We’ll have to tell her something of course, but only what’s absolutely necessary, so I’ll be careful what I say.’
Millie pulled a face. ‘It will be all around Stibbington by the morning.’
‘Needs must,’ was Peter’s only comment. ‘We can’t leave Mrs Villiers here by herself at the moment, we need Hilda Thorne.’
‘All’s well that ends well,’ said Peter as they drove off towards the gates leading on to the main road.
‘I’m not sure that’s an apt quotation,’ remarked Millie. ‘I’ve got a feeling that this case is nowhere near the end, and has got to run some yet.’
‘Turning into the expert detective now are we?’ Peter grinned.
‘You don’t have to be an expert to realize that there are more twists and turns to this than a Shakespearean tragedy,’ said Millie. ‘I did one for my A level English at school, although I can’t remember which one now.’
Peter smiled. They’d just arrived at the main gates, and Millie had climbed out and opened them, when suddenly a taxi appeared and roared through the open gates and past them, into Avon Park and up towards the house.
‘That was Ruth in that taxi,’ said Millie, staring after it. ‘I’m sure of it. And someone else as well.’
‘Well, that’s all right then. Amelia Villiers won’t be alone, and Hilda Thorne will be able to go home. Get in Millie; I want to get home as well.’
*
At Avon Hall, Ruth stumbled out of the taxi in a tearful heap, much to the confusion of the two dogs who weren’t used to people coming and going in the evening. They rushed about adding to the noise of Ruth’s deafening sobs, until Hilda Thorne shut them in the kitchen. Then she paid for the taxi as neither Tom, who was the other passenger, nor Ruth, had enough money. ‘We’ll pay you back,’ said Tom.
‘You certainly will,’ said Hilda firmly. ‘I’m not made of money. Fifteen pounds is daylight robbery,’ she said to the driver as she handed the money over.
‘It’s a long way from Salisbury to Avinton; it’s out of my zone.’ The driver pocketed the money, gave her a receipt and drove off.
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