False Pride

by Veronica Heley

  At last, Magda’s phone call elicited a reply. ‘Mrs Tarring, I’m sorry to disturb you, but—’

  ‘Yes, Magda? What is it? You do realize this is the weekend.’ An older woman’s voice. A pleasant voice. One accustomed to command, but displeased at being contacted outside office hours.

  ‘Something has happened. Lucas has disappeared. He’s not where he should be, and he’s not answering his phone. And, we think Kent is in hospital, though we don’t know—’

  ‘What! What nonsense is this?’

  Magda gibbered.

  Some people go to pieces far too easily.

  Bea took the phone off Magda. ‘Mrs Tarring, this is Bea Abbot here from the agency. Magda called me to help because various crimes appear to have been committed—’

  ‘Mrs Abbot? Nice to hear from you. Did you say “crimes”?’ A light laugh, amused.

  ‘In order of importance: a man answering to Kent Rycroft’s appearance has been assaulted and taken to hospital, labelled with Lucas Rycroft’s name; the Rycroft twins assaulted Magda and wrecked a portrait painter’s studio; the Rycroft jewels have been removed from the bank and are now in limbo and Lucas Rycroft has disappeared. Oh, and his flat has been burgled and his jade figurines have gone.’

  A silence in which hard breathing could be heard. Mrs Tarring’s voice came at last, faint with shock. ‘Repeat that, please.’

  Bea continued, ‘Yes, it’s hard to take it all in, isn’t it? I’m at Lucas Rycroft’s place, with Magda. I suggest you ring round the hospitals to see where Kent Rycroft is. We think he may have been admitted under the name of Mr Lucas. Meanwhile, I’ll ring the police to inform them of the burglary here at Lucas’s place. That is, unless you know where he might be?’

  ‘What? No, I don’t. But you mustn’t ring the … Lucas often visits exhibitions at weekends and sometimes he … I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for … he’ll have forgotten to tell Magda about this change of plan, that’s all. I’m sure she’s worrying unnecessarily. Mrs Abbot, I don’t understand the rest of what you said. Is this some practical joke?’

  ‘Far from it. Lucas had an appointment this morning to discuss having his portrait painted. He didn’t turn up. Instead, the artist found a strange man lying in his hallway, who’d been attacked by person or persons unknown. The artist had been expecting a visit from Lucas, and told the police that. But, from his description of the victim, it sounds more like Kent Rycroft than Lucas. Whoever he is, he was taken off to hospital under the name of Lucas.’

  ‘You think Kent has been attacked? But why? It doesn’t make sense. Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. I suspect the Rycroft twins may have been involved.’

  ‘What? Which …?’

  ‘The two boys. Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They’ve been rampaging around, trying to find some jewellery which Lucas withdrew from the bank early this morning.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why would Lucas withdraw—’

  ‘You may well ask.’ Grimly. ‘The pair of them also paid me a visit at my home. Magda and I have both been recipients of their attentions, which I may say were forceful in the extreme. We’re back at Lucas’s place now, and that’s how we discovered that his place has been burgled.’

  ‘You are at Lucas’s place?’ Faint but pursuing. ‘Why? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Neither do I. I suggest that if you see the Rycroft twins, you take evasive action. I’ll stay here with Magda while we wait for the police. When you’ve found out what’s happened to Kent, will you let me know?’

  ‘No police! No, the Rycrofts wouldn’t want that.’

  ‘You can’t cover up an assault and a burglary!’

  ‘Mrs Abbot, the Rycrofts are pathological about privacy. Believe me, they will not want the police called in.’

  ‘But we can’t ignore—’

  ‘We had a break-in at the office a couple of years ago and all our computers were stolen. I was ordered to replace the equipment and say nothing to the police. I pointed out that the insurance people were not likely to pay up if we didn’t inform the police, but Lord Rycroft insisted.’

  Bea said, ‘He’s the one going gaga, isn’t he?’

  ‘No! No, that’s a lie. He’s eccentric, that’s all.’

  ‘Mrs Tarring, the only reason Lord Rycroft wouldn’t have wanted the police involved, was that he knew who had organized the break-in at your office. Am I right?’

  Silence. A cautious, ‘It did occur to me, yes.’

  ‘You think the same person or persons might be responsible for the theft of Lucas’s jade pieces?’

  ‘It is a possibility, yes.’

  ‘Someone who has access to keys, not only to your office but also to Lucas’s place?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, of course, but—’

  ‘There were no signs of forced entry here. Magda let us in with her keys. But someone has definitely been through the place, searching for something. And the jade pieces are conspicuous by their absence.’

  More silence.

  Bea said, ‘If we call the police to investigate this break-in, they will test for fingerprints and identify the intruder.’

  ‘No, no. Please! No police. I do see that this is an emergency. I’ll see if I can get Lord Rycroft to come to the phone, although it would be unheard of for … Well, if he says to let the police in, then I’ll ring you back and you can contact them.’

  ‘What about Kent Rycroft? Do you want me to start ringing round the hospitals to see if he’s been admitted, or will you do it?’

  A wail. ‘What are we going to do? If it’s Kent … Oh, dear! Kent is the only one who ever gets anything done. Mrs Abbot, I’ll ring you back as soon as I’ve spoken to Lord Rycroft.’ She ended the call.

  Magda wrung her hands. ‘She still says not to call the police?’

  ‘There was a break-in at the office and all the computers were stolen. Who does she think did it?’

  Lowered eyelids. ‘It was before my time.’

  Bea said, ‘Magda, come clean.’

  ‘All right, I did hear about it. It was Tweedledum and Tweedledee, of course. One of the Rycroft maintenance men told me about it. No one was supposed to talk about it, of course, but he told me so that I’d never leave them alone if they visited Lucas. He said the twins organized the break-in because they’d been refused an increase in their allowances. It was their way of reminding Kent that they were not to be trifled with. I think myself that he ought to have called in the police, but he didn’t. I can only assume the old lord told Kent to let the twins have what they wanted.’

  ‘You think it was they who broke in here as well?’

  Magda said, ‘I don’t know. It’s possible. The people who went through these rooms were definitely looking for something and I suppose it was the jewellery they were after. Well, they didn’t get it. I think they took the jade out of spite.’

  ‘You think that Lord Rycroft will continue to protect them, no matter what they get up to? Surely he knows that people who indulge in this thuggish behaviour don’t turn into saints with age? They may have started by twisting a few arms, but unless stopped they will progress to beating people up …’

  ‘Or hitting them with a doorstop?’ Magda swallowed. ‘Let’s hope Kent’s going to be all right. He’s the one who keeps everything going. Without him … I mean, who’s going to authorize payment of my salary at the end of the month? And that’s supposing I keep my job after this.’

  ‘And who is going to compensate Lucas for the loss of his treasures? What’s more, the twins – if it was them – didn’t just take the jade. Someone was searching through the drawers to find something. Does Lucas keep money at home?’

  ‘No. He uses cards, like everyone else.’

  ‘So they must have been after the jewellery.’

  Magda said, ‘I suppose so. Oh dear, oh dear.’

  Bea got out her mobile phone. ‘Mrs Tarring was too shaken to call the hospitals, so we’d better do it. You start
with Hammersmith Hospital. I’ll try Charing Cross first.’

  Five minutes later Magda signalled to Bea that she’d got something. ‘Yes,’ she said. And again, ‘Yes. I’ll see that someone contacts his family. Yes, his name is not Lucas. It’s Kent. Kent Rycroft. We think so, anyway. The next of kin would be his father, Lord Rycroft. I don’t have the address, but I can tell you the telephone number of his office and someone there can give it to you.’

  She read out Mrs Tarring’s two numbers, and put the phone back on the wall. ‘That was Hammersmith Hospital. They have admitted a man under the name of Mr Lucas, but they won’t give me any more information than that because I’m not a relative.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can get through to Mrs Tarring.’ Bea tried the woman again. One line was not answered. The other was busy. Was Mrs Tarring still on the phone to Lord Rycroft? If so, she’d ring back when she’d finished. Bea smoothed out the memos she’d taken from the waste-paper basket. Neither of these messages had been from Lord Rycroft. One was from Mrs Tarring. The other …? She said, ‘Who is … what’s this name? It looks like Shirley?’

  ‘Shirley is a c-cousin, I think. Not c-close.’ Magda’s teeth were chattering.

  She was in shock. Bea put the kettle on. She tried Mrs Tarring’s number again. Still engaged. She made Magda a cup of sugared tea, and gave it to her.

  Now what? Lucas’s address book beckoned. There were two entries for Lord Rycroft; one for an Eaton Square address, and one for a place in Oxfordshire. She tried the Eaton Square number first. The agency had supplied another housekeeper to the Rycrofts in the past, hadn’t they? Would this be the one Bea knew?

  SIX

  Saturday afternoon

  The phone rang and rang. It didn’t give the ‘engaged’ sound, and it didn’t click through to voicemail. Finally, a woman answered.

  ‘Yes?’ Middle-aged? A little hoarse? A housekeeper?

  Bea said, ‘This is Mrs Abbot, from the Abbot Agency.’

  ‘Who?’

  Not one of Bea’s clients, then. She said, ‘May I speak to Lord Rycroft? It is rather urgent. It’s concerning his son.’

  ‘Lord Rycroft is not in residence.’ The phone clicked off. A standard reply, delivered by someone who wasn’t going to waste time talking to strangers.

  Bea tried Mrs Tarring again. As before, one line was engaged and there was no answer to the other. ‘Mrs Tarring must be ringing someone else. She’s not on the phone to the Eaton Square address because that number wasn’t engaged. Perhaps she’s speaking to the hospital.’

  ‘Or the Oxfordshire number? Lord Rycroft lives there most of the time, nowadays.’

  Bea tried the Oxfordshire address. Another long wait, again no engaged signal, or voicemail. Again, a woman replied. ‘Yes?’A livelier, younger voice.

  ‘This is Bea Abbot speaking, of the Abbot Agency. May I speak to Lord Rycroft? It is an urgent matter, concerning his son.’

  ‘I’m afraid Lord Rycroft is not in residence.’ The standard reply. And no recognition of Bea’s name or agency. This woman had not got her job through Bea, either.

  Bea said, ‘Please don’t hang up! Lord Rycroft is Kent’s next of kin, isn’t he?’

  ‘What? Who are you?’

  Bea tried to keep calm. ‘My name is Mrs Abbot. I’ve been called in to help Mrs Tarring and Miss Summerleys in an emergency. Hasn’t Mrs Tarring been on the phone to you yet?’

  And if not, what has she been doing all this time?

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t answer any—’

  ‘Kent Rycroft was attacked this morning and taken to hospital. I’m afraid the news is not good.’

  ‘What do you mean? Who did you say you are?’

  ‘Mrs Abbot. A friend of Miss Summerleys.’

  ‘Who?’

  Bea refrained from grinding her teeth. Didn’t the Rycroft housekeepers ever contact one another, or was this forbidden by their code of discretion? ‘Lord Rycroft’s son is in hospital. The hospital needs to contact Lord Rycroft, urgently. So, if you could persuade him to come to the phone?’

  ‘He’s not here.’ A trace of uncertainty. ‘He left his breakfast on the table and called for his car to be brought round, even though it’s supposed to be going in for a service, which I did remind him about. I didn’t even have time to pack a bag for him. He said he’d be in touch. He’s at the London house, I assume.’

  ‘They say not. He didn’t tell you where he was going?’

  ‘No. Who are you, and what do you mean by—’

  ‘He had a phone call, I suppose.’

  ‘Well … yes. He took it on his mobile, which only accepts calls from a few people. I assumed it was Mr Kent ringing, but … you say Mr Kent’s in hospital?’

  ‘This is important. About what time did Lord Rycroft get this phone call?’

  ‘I … I don’t think I should say any more.’

  ‘He breakfasts late? It was about eight thirty, perhaps?’ That would tie in with the call Lucas had made when his breakfast had been interrupted.

  ‘No, His Lordship doesn’t rise until much later.’

  So it wasn’t Lord Rycroft whom Lucas had rung at half past eight. ‘How much later? Nine, ten?’

  ‘Nearer to ten, but I … no comment.’

  ‘Has Mrs Tarring called you?’

  No reply. The phone clicked off.

  Magda looked as if she were about to dissolve into a puddle. ‘It’s a black hole. Everyone’s disappearing!’

  Bea straightened her own spine. ‘I think we can assume Lucas was asked by someone he trusted to get the jewellery from the bank. I don’t know why but, from what you say, he wouldn’t have fallen for the usual sort of scam which parts a fool from his money. No, he’s too intelligent for that. He checked that it was genuine, didn’t he? He took delivery, and when in the taxi afterwards, he arranged to hand it over to someone he trusted.

  ‘Meanwhile, he had an appointment to have his hair cut. He had plenty of time to have that done before he met … whoever … at Piers’s place, so he gave you the jewellery for safekeeping and took the taxi on to the barber’s. He never arrived there. He had a working cell phone. Perhaps he had second thoughts on his way there. Perhaps received another phone call which caused him to change his plans. Or he might well have double-checked with Lord Rycroft or Kent about the disposal of the goods? If that was the call which Lord Rycroft received, then you can construct a scenario in which the two men decided that, in view of the strange circumstances concerning the removal of the jewellery from the bank, they would forgo their plans for the day and arrange to meet.’

  ‘Yes, but Lucas should have phoned me to tell me … ah, he couldn’t, could he? My phone was in pieces on the studio floor by that time.’

  ‘So if he’d tried to phone you and didn’t get through, what would he think?’

  Magda drew in a sharp breath. ‘That I’d gone off with the goods? Oh, no! He knows me better than that. He can trust me to keep them safe.’

  ‘In spite of the attentions of Tweedledum and Tweedledee?’

  Magda made swimming motions with her hands. ‘I don’t know! I don’t know! There’s something else that’s been bothering me. I know I didn’t have time to make the beds this morning before we left, but …’ She steadied herself. ‘My bed’s been made. I am not going to have hysterics. I must have forgotten that I’d made it.’

  Bea started for the stairs at a run.

  Magda followed, saying, ‘No, no … it can’t be!’

  Bea threw open the door which led to Magda’s bedroom. Sunshine shone through the window, lighting up the bed.

  It was an old-fashioned double bed, made of pine. Solid and welcoming. Four ruffled pillows were arranged across the headboard, two on two. A double duvet, printed with pink flowers, had been spread across the bed. The duvet had a ruffle round it, too. It was a deep, expensive duvet, under which one could snuggle.

  Magda had her fingers to her mouth. ‘I left the duvet over the back of a chair, airing in f
ront of the window. I always leave the window open at the top, to air the room. That’s the way I was brought up.’

  The window was still open, but the duvet was back on the bed, neatly fluffed up.

  Bea twitched the duvet back, and gasped. She took a step back.

  Magda screamed, soundlessly.

  The body of a man lay on the bed with his head under the pillows. Not a big man. A truncated man. A headless man in good jeans and a cashmere sweater over a shirt. Black socks and brown brogues on his feet.

  No sign of blood.

  Bea steeled herself. She lifted the pillows off his face, one by one.

  A fair-haired young man with a good tan. Eyes closed, lips slack. Asleep? No, he couldn’t have slept with those two pillows over his head.

  Bea touched his neck. ‘No pulse. He’s quite cold.’

  She had jogged the bed. His hand moved.

  Magda screamed again.

  This time Bea joined her. Bea put both hands over her heart and stilled her breathing. She told herself that the corpse’s hand had shifted because she’d jogged the bed. She touched the hand. It was cold and limp. Rigor mortis had been and gone so he hadn’t died that morning. Last night? Some time yesterday?

  What else could she see?

  The man was white, Caucasian. Quite young. Possibly in his late teens or early twenties? Those reddish marks … check his eyes? Could she bear to touch him? She forced herself to do so. Yes. Nasty.

  He’d been smothered. She thought.

  Magda said, ‘Oh, how could you? Ugh …’ And dived for the bathroom.

  Bea inspected the underside of the pillow which had been placed over the man’s head. There were no marks on it. He’d been killed elsewhere and then dumped in Magda’s bed.

  Why in Magda’s bed? To scare her away because she was protective of Lucas?

  Bea felt for her mobile phone in her pocket. No mobile. Where had she left it? Downstairs on the kitchen table, that’s where.

  Magda was throwing up in the bathroom. Bea reckoned she’d be throwing up, too, if someone had planted a corpse in her bed.