by Bill Kitson
‘Polly, you have got an extremely dirty mind,’ I told her. ‘You know those so-called facts are nowhere near the truth.’
‘Yes I do, and yes I have got a dirty mind – but no more than a reporter would have.’
She poured us both another drink. ‘So what do you intend to do about it?’
‘Do about what?’ I asked her. ‘Your dirty mind?’
Polly grinned. ‘We’ll come to that later. No, I mean about the curse.’
‘I was going to dig about a bit and see what I can find out.’
‘Now that sounds like a plan you’ve thought through in great depth,’ the sarcasm was bitingly obvious.
‘I couldn’t really do much until I got here and had a look at the layout of the place and assessed the situation,’ I said defensively.
‘Do you realize why Tony and Harriet are so worried? Has Harriet or Charlotte said anything to you?’ Polly asked.
‘No, apart from the obvious reason, the curse, that’s all anyone’s said to me.’
‘Yes, I understand that, but has nobody mentioned what’s behind the curse, what really frightens them?’
‘I don’t understand.’
Polly took a hefty slug from her glass of malt. I watched admiringly as she knocked it back with accomplished ease. ‘So no one’s mentioned it. No wonder you’re not able to make any plans.’ Polly leaned forward. ‘Adam, the reason they’re so worried is the fear that Tony might have inherited the strain of insanity that has run through the Rowe family for countless generations.’
‘What? I’ve heard nothing about that. How do you know?’
‘Harriet let it slip one night when she was staying at my flat. She’d had a drop too much red wine and the truth came out along with it. They haven’t mentioned it to you?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not surprised,’ Polly said. ‘They keep it very quiet. I wouldn’t mention that you know about it to Tony or Harriet if I was you; they’re very touchy on the subject.’
‘Who do I ask then? Do you know the facts?’
Polly shook her head. ‘I know just what I’ve told you, no more. If you wanted to find out I reckon Charlotte would be your best bet.’
‘Charlotte?’ I said in considerable surprise, ‘are you sure?’
‘Pretty much. She knows everything there is to know about what goes on here, for all she plays the genteel lady. I bet she came here tonight to vet you. She’s desperate to get the curse business done with for good.’
We finished our drinks and I walked over to the door with her. She turned to face me her back against the wood panelling. She looked very attractive, and that wasn’t just the effect of the whisky. I leaned over to kiss her and there was nothing but raw passion in the way she returned my kiss. As we separated breathlessly a few minutes later Polly said, ‘Of course if you really want to protect yourself from the curse the best way is to take another lover instead of Harriet.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in the curse?’
‘I don’t,’ she admitted. ‘It was the best excuse I could come up with. Goodnight, Adam.’
Little did either of us know that, as we joked about it, the Rowe family curse had already claimed another victim.
Chapter Five
I woke up early on Christmas morning. It was not excitement that roused me but the light reflecting from the snow outside. I’d forgotten to close the curtains after Polly left and was suffering the consequences. I decided a shower might alleviate the mild hangover that had resulted from the generous measures of malt whisky. It took a while but it worked. As I shaved, I examined the damage inflicted by Eve. The eye had a slight discolouration round it, barely noticeable unless one was looking for it, and my cheek was a little tender from the slap. Elsewhere was also a little tender, but I’d live.
I returned to the bedroom from the en-suite shower room to discover that the failure to close the curtains hadn’t been my only sin of omission. It also seemed that I’d failed to lock my door. During my absence, someone, whether clad in a red suit or not, had sneaked into my room and left a Christmas present on the four-poster bed.
I stared at the parcel in surprise. Discounting Santa Claus, I wondered who had been abroad at this early hour and who had taken the trouble to wrap me a present and deliver it? Who had been bold enough or knowledgeable enough to take advantage of my temporary absence? I could make a guess at the contents for the wrapping paper had been formed into the shape of a bottle. There were two attachments to the silver paper round the bottle. One was a small gift tag in matching silver, the other a sprig of mistletoe. In my short stay at Mulgrave Castle it appeared I had acquired an admirer. I examined the gift tag. The greeting read, Happy Christmas, Adam. From ??
I have to admit I was more than half-convinced it would contain malt whisky, so I was mildly surprised to find instead that I had been given a very expensive-looking bottle of claret. However, I had absolutely no idea who the present was from.
I dressed slowly, pausing once or twice to stare at the bottle and the gift tag. I admit that I was still baffled and intrigued when I was ready to face the undoubted racket and chaos of Christmas morning in the company of a castle-full of youngsters.
Before I left my room I stared out at the snowbound scene surrounding the castle. No Christmas card could have bettered the sight. Although snow had ceased to fall sometime during the night, the sky was heavy with the promise of more; as if we needed more. I was surprised to see how much had fallen since I had arrived back at the castle early the previous evening. The Range Rover’s tyre tracks had been completely filled in since I had driven up to the main entrance and round to the courtyard behind the castle. It didn’t need a road traffic report to guess that Mulgrave Castle was completely cut off from the outside world. Not that it should be a cause for concern as I had little doubt that the castle was self-sufficient. Despite the obvious age of the building, it was reasonably warm. The improvements Tony Rowe and his recent predecessors had made ensured it was also as comfortable as a decent hotel.
Breakfast on Christmas morning was a riotous meal. It was an extended affair, punctuated by the undoubted amusement caused when each of the younger occupants opened a present. The noise of children demonstrating various examples of the latest toys and games was a constant background.
I received only one present to add to the mystery gift I’d left upstairs. This one was from Tony and Harriet, as the label announced. It contained a book entitled A Man Alone. This proved to be a recipe book designed for use by single males. I thanked Tony, for Harriet was not within earshot at the time. In fact Christmas morning was marked by the female inhabitants of the castle queuing up to avoid me. I expected to be ignored by Eve after our disagreement the previous night. I wasn’t totally surprised that Harriet was keeping her distance, but I couldn’t fathom out why Charlotte was steering clear of me, and Polly’s desertion was a severe blow to my masculine pride.
It was scant consolation that the males were slightly more forthcoming. I was greeted enthusiastically by Tony; whose good humour in the face of the provocative nature of the antics of his offspring was commendable. Both his cousins, Russell and Colin, seemed a little more sociable than I might have expected from my fleeting encounter with them the previous evening.
Such was the confusion of the morning that it was almost noon before the absence of one of the party was noticed. I glanced across the dining table; the natural focal point for all activity and noticed the vacant chair. ‘Beaumont seems to be having a long lie-in,’ I remarked to Tony who happened to be passing at that moment. Tony paused from defending himself from the attentions of his son and heir. Charles, known to one and all as Charlie, who seemed bent on getting an early inheritance judging by the vigour with which he was attacking his father with a plastic sword. The most junior member of the household declared a temporary truce and father and son followed my gaze. ‘That’s a surprise,’ Tony agreed. ‘You haven’t done him in with this lethal weapon, have you, Charlie?’
His son denied the charge vehemently. ‘Perhaps the forces of evil got him during the night,’ he suggested hopefully.
‘We should be so lucky,’ Tony said dourly. ‘I suppose I’d better go and see if he’s all right.’
A few minutes later, when Sammy, about the only female in the castle who was prepared to come anywhere near me, was attempting to damage my hearing by playing the outpourings of a heavy metal group into my ear from her brand new portable cassette player, I was given a welcome distraction by a tap on my shoulder. I removed the earpiece thankfully. ‘Can we have a word in private, Adam? Outside if you don’t mind.’
I followed Tony into the hall. Much to my surprise I was accompanied, and by the most unlikely of companions at that. Eve, who had overheard Tony’s request, followed me out of the dining hall. ‘Is there a problem?’ I asked when we reached the sitting room.
Tony frowned forbiddingly at his sister-in-law. He obviously underestimated Eve badly. ‘Go on, Tony,’ she encouraged him, ‘spit it out, whatever it is.’
Tony shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. ‘Beaumont’s not in his room,’ he told us reluctantly, ‘What’s more, his bed hasn’t been slept in.’
I cleared my throat. The next question was a delicate one. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance he might have stayed in another room, is there?’ I couldn’t avoid a sideways glance at Eve as I spoke.
Her cheeks flushed with annoyance and her eyes sparkled as she replied, ‘I don’t know what you’re looking at me for; I wouldn’t let him near my room. I detest the man.’
‘I don’t think there’s the slightest chance he slept elsewhere,’ the haste with which Tony intervened suggested he thought Eve might be about to do me violence.
At this point Harriet appeared, to demand what was going on and why she had been left to entertain a collection of hyperactive adolescents without the support of her nearest and dearest. As her glance merely took in her husband and sister I assumed I was off that list, which was a mild relief. Tony explained the situation. ‘Has anyone searched his room thoroughly?’ Harriet asked. ‘I realize he’s not in it, but there might be some clue as to where he’s disappeared to.’
‘Good idea, Harriet,’ Tony agreed, ‘Adam and I will go have a look now.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Eve volunteered.
I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Tony or me. Perhaps I should explain at this point that I make no pretences to being a detective. I had been a crime reporter for two years but there is a world of difference between detecting crime and reporting it. I say this in my own defence for I failed to grasp the significance of what I saw, or rather failed to see in Beaumont’s room until a good while later. Not that it would have made any difference to Beaumont by then. About the only bright thing I did was to suggest to Tony that he lock Beaumont’s door after we left the room. ‘I’m not saying there is something wrong,’ I attempted to reassure him, ‘just a precaution.’
I could see by their expressions that neither Tony nor Eve was reassured. When we returned to the dining hall Tony took command and addressed the gathering. He explained what had happened and began organizing a search party. It takes something really special to divert children’s attention on Christmas morning. A game of hide-and-seek with the possibility of finding a corpse is as effective a method as I’ve seen. I suppose to them it was merely another party game; an attraction staged for their benefit. The adults were markedly less enthusiastic. I wondered if this was from a fear of the sinister implications behind his disappearance or merely an indication of Beaumont’s unpopularity.
Tony left Harriet to delegate different areas of the castle to various guests. Much to my disappointment, Polly was assigned the top floor together with the twins, Sammy and Becky, whilst I was given the ground floor along with Charlie and Eve. We set off, with Charlie acting as our tour guide. We searched all the family rooms first, the sitting room, the dining hall, the sun room, the breakfast room, Tony’s study, the library, the snooker room, and then began inspecting the working quarters. We passed quickly through the kitchen, where Cathy Marsh was in the throes of the final preparations for the Christmas dinner and looked in the gun room, the scullery, the coal and log stores, the wine cellar, and the laundry.
In the laundry there was another door apart from the one we used. ‘Where does that lead?’ I asked Charlie.
‘Nowhere much; there’s a corridor leading to the garden. All there is down there is a toilet. We only use that door in summer.’
‘We’d better check it, nevertheless.’
The toilet was empty; the outside door was securely locked and bolted. As I turned from inspecting this I noticed a small puddle on the tiled floor of the corridor. I bent to examine it. ‘What is it, Adam?’ It was the first time Eve had spoken directly to me since the previous night.
I looked up at her. Her face registered no more than mild curiosity. ‘It’s water,’ I told her, ‘but what puzzles me is where it’s come from.’
I traced my finger through the small pool of water and towards the centre met with a little resistance. I looked all round, at the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, then I glanced back at the door checking that the bolts were securely in place. ‘This water,’ I told my companions, ‘is melted snow. Someone has been outside and returned with snow on their shoes that they’ve stamped here to get rid of it.’
It was then that my mind went back to Beaumont’s room and to what I had failed to notice there. I looked up again. ‘Eve, think back to yesterday evening. When I dropped you at the front entrance, did Beaumont go straight to his room?’
She thought for a minute. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, ‘we stopped for a moment to say hello to Tony. He told us which rooms we were in and we went straight upstairs. I was miffed because you’d been allocated the room I usually get, when Russell Rowe and that dreadful wife of his haven’t claimed it, that is. I stopped to protest, but Tony said you were the guest of honour. He’d already told Russell the same. I spent a couple of minutes talking to Tony but Beaumont stalked straight off up to his room. Why, is it important?’
‘It might be. Can you remember if he took his coat off before he went to his room?’
‘No, definitely not; I’d have remembered because I was still laughing at him falling in the snowdrift and the back of his coat was wet through.’
I smiled. ‘Yes, I enjoyed that too.’
‘You still haven’t explained why you think it might be important.’
‘If he didn’t leave his coat downstairs, why isn’t it in his room?’
‘Isn’t it, are you sure? Now you mention it I don’t recall seeing it when we looked just now. So what does that mean?’
‘It may mean he left the building sometime last night. If not, where’s his coat vanished to?’
‘But that’s mad,’ Eve objected. ‘Nobody in their right mind would have gone outside in that foul weather. There was a blizzard raging outside.’
I looked at her. ‘I remember last night very well, there was a blizzard raging outside and a virago raging inside.’
She reddened angrily and for a moment I thought she was about to go for me again, then her expression softened. ‘I regret that,’ she confessed. ‘Your face still looks a bit on the pink side, does it hurt?’
I stood up and smiled at her. ‘Not much, it was a bit tender shaving this morning.’
‘What do you think happened to Beaumont? Do you really believe he went out in the snow?’
‘I want to hear what the others have to report. If they’ve found no trace of him there is another, far more serious fact to consider.’
‘Go on, Sherlock, tell us.’
‘If Beaumont left the castle via that door and there’s no trace of him within the building, can we assume that he didn’t come back in?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I fail to grasp the significance though.’
‘I do,’ Charlie said suddenly. ‘If Beaumont didn’t come back in, who did? Who left
the snowy puddle on the floor and who bolted the door?’
‘Well done, Charlie,’ I told him.
‘You mean somebody else followed him outside?’ Eve asked.
‘Or arranged to meet him outside, perhaps he had an assignation?’
‘Not another one! I thought you’d cornered that market.’
I stared at her. ‘What does that remark mean?’
‘I was referring to the string of females you had traipsing in and out of your room half the night.’
‘I thought you went to bed early with a headache; or was that all pretence?’
‘There’s more than one reason for a woman to feign a headache,’ she told me. ‘Anyway, what about Beaumont?’
‘You tell me, he’s your friend not mine.’
‘He’s no friend of mine,’ Eve denied hotly. ‘Give me credit for a bit better taste than that. I can’t stand him. One of the reasons I was so angry was I’d had to put up with the creep for so long.’
‘Sorry, I thought you and he were an item.’
Eve shuddered. ‘Perish the thought. Anyway, at least I only deal with one item at a time; I don’t have a shopping list.’
She glanced round, we were alone. Charlie had already darted off to see what the others had discovered. ‘So which is it to be; who’s at the top of your list? Is it Lady Rowe senior, Lady Rowe junior, or the Randy Restaurateur?’
‘There is no list, and therefore there’s no one on it, either at the top, the middle, or the bottom,’ I denied.
‘So if you’re not Charlotte’s gigolo, Harriet’s old flame, or the Sexy Chef’s dish of the day, why are you here?’
