Silent as the Grave

by Bill Kitson

  ‘I’m supposed to be investigating the Rowe family curse and those mysterious disappearances from hundreds of years ago.’

  ‘And now we’ve got one that’s just a few hours old.’

  None of the others had returned to the sitting room when we reached it, but they entered in a large chattering bunch shortly after our arrival. Nobody had discovered anything of the slightest significance. It was, as Polly remarked, ‘as if he vanished into thin air.’

  If Eve had been mildly sceptical about my theory regarding Beaumont’s disappearance, the rest of the gathering were frankly either incredulous or dismissive; in most cases both.

  Polly Jardine was the most critical of the idea. ‘You can’t honestly expect anyone to believe Beaumont would have ventured out into a snowstorm on a night like last night. What possible reason could he have?’

  Harriet was scarcely more supportive. ‘Polly’s right, Adam. Apart from Beaumont having no reason to go out, nobody uses that entrance except in summer. The rest of the time it’s kept locked and bolted. Even if Beaumont had wanted to go outside he would have found it far easier to use the kitchen entrance.’

  ‘In any case what possible motive could the man have for venturing out in the middle of a blizzard?’ It was Tony’s cousin Russell Rowe who was next to ridicule my ideas, ‘I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree there, old chap.’

  ‘Perhaps he wanted to meet someone and wanted to keep that meeting secret,’ was all I could suggest.

  ‘He wouldn’t have to go outside to do that,’ Russell pointed out. ‘There are more than enough secret meeting places within the castle walls without going outside. No, I’m afraid you’ve been reading too many of your own thrillers, old man.’

  Russell was beginning to irritate me and the smug expressions on the faces of some of the others at my discomfort didn’t help. I decided I’d had enough and switched from defence to attack. ‘Very well, then,’ my voice was tinged with sarcasm from the start, by the finish it was deeply coloured, ‘as you’ve all returned with your hands as empty as your brains from searching inside the castle, perhaps one of you brilliant detectives would favour us with your own, more convincing explanation of Edgar Beaumont’s disappearance. In the unlikely event that you can do so, I’ll be more than happy to hear it, because all you’ve done so far is to pick holes in my theory, the only theory we have, may I remind you, without offering up an alternative,’ I sat back and waited, ‘Go ahead, I’m listening. Just don’t all talk at once.’

  It was another great Adam Bailey conversation stopper. The angry silence was broken only by Tony who gave an embarrassed cough. No other explanation was forthcoming but I could tell by the expression of deep disapproval on most of the congregation’s faces that my stock was at zero; if not below. Not that I was particularly upset by that. I expected no support. Even though, as I’d pointed out, it was our only theory and was a pretty wild one. I was as surprised as the rest of the gathering therefore when I found I had two allies.

  ‘I don’t give a toss what the rest of you think, I reckon Adam has a point and I think we should at least make some effort to investigate his idea,’ Eve told them.

  If I’d silenced the audience a few seconds earlier, Eve’s outburst stunned them. They were still recovering from this unexpected shock when my second supporter added his voice. ‘I agree with Aunt Evie,’ Charlie piped up. ‘I think you’re all being a bit mean to Adam. At least he has got an idea, which is more than can be said for the rest of you. I think we should go have a look outside.’

  His final remark had everyone glancing out of the window, including me. My heart sank. Any prospect of raising a worthwhile search party was remote. The snow was beginning to fall heavily once more. Anyone not totally committed to the idea would see that as sufficient excuse. That meant virtually everyone.

  Charlie was as successful at creating silence as Eve and I had been. He waited then said, ‘Come on, Adam, you and I will go look. Leave the rest of them by their cosy fireplace.’

  The stinging rebuke implicit in this remark uttered by a twelve-year-old was a bit strong for a few of the party and I could see one or two about to respond when Eve entered the fray once more. ‘Good for you, Charlie, I’ll come with you as well.’

  ‘You’ll risk missing your Christmas dinner, we plan to serve it in an hour,’ Polly’s tone was just a little catty.

  ‘Yes, and Cathy’s taken great pains to inform us we should be ready on the dot,’ Harriet backed her friend up.

  I could see Tony was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the signs of an impending rift. I was about to make some soothing remark but I was beaten to it by Eve. ‘If you lot are more concerned with feeding your face than looking for a missing guest, then all I can say is you’re a miserable shower that I wouldn’t want to sit down to Christmas dinner alongside,’ she told them roundly.

  If there had been the remotest chance of us getting any support in our search that remark ended it effectively enough. ‘Go ahead and make martyrs of yourselves, but don’t blame me if there’s nothing left for you,’ Polly added her pennyweight.

  Eve was in fine blazing form by now. ‘I’m sorry,’ the sweetness of her opening belied the sting in the tail, ‘I didn’t realize Mulgrave Castle had been added to your chain of restaurants and that you were now managing the place,’ she told Polly.

  We walked out of the room; the only sound that of our footsteps.

  Chapter Six

  Five minutes later we were selecting suitable footwear from the collection of wellington boots lined up against the wall of the passage next to the kitchen entrance. From inside we could hear the clatter of pots and pans. Polly had rejoined Cathy Marsh in the kitchen and there seemed an angry tone to the way the utensils were being handled. As we put on weather-resistant coats I admitted to Charlie that I was puzzled none of the other children had joined us. ‘It’s snowing hard, there’s a game of hide-and-seek and the outside possibility of a gruesome discovery,’ I suggested, ‘I can’t see that failing to attract kids.’

  He acknowledged the truth of it with a grin. ‘Normally they would. As for the twins, Sammy would certainly have been along but for the fact she’s got a sore throat and Ma’s banned it. Becky, well, you wouldn’t get her outside unless it was one of her precious books that was missing. As for my dear cousins,’ there was as much sarcasm in his voice as I’d managed earlier, ‘they’re all dominated by their doting parents.’

  Eve was having difficulty with a recalcitrant wellington. She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself. I didn’t think it worth pointing out that she could have used the wall to equally good effect. When she had mastered the misbehaving boot she straightened and looked at her nephew. ‘You don’t think much of Russell or Colin, do you, Charlie?’

  His tone was as dismissive as a twelve-year-old could muster, ‘They’re a pair of creeps and spongers,’ he told us.

  Eventually, we were suitably attired. I inspected my companions and made one minor alteration. Eve had opted for a red bobble cap. I removed this and replaced it with a smartly checked deerstalker. ‘It’s better for keeping your ears warm and it won’t clash as violently with your hair colouring,’ I told her.

  We encountered our first difficulty with Rathbone, the butler, when we attempted to obtain the keys to aid our expedition. He told Charlie that he could not release them ‘without Sir Anthony’s permission’.

  I’m not sure if Charlie inherited his temper from his aunt or whether it came from elsewhere. ‘Don’t be a prat, Ollie,’ he told the butler, ‘otherwise I’ll have to tell Pa I’ve seen you watering the port down.’

  We got the keys without further objection. Rathbone opened up a small cupboard in his pantry and there was an impressive array of keys hanging from nails inside. Each key was neatly labelled.

  ‘Which ones do we want, Adam?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘All the outbuildings plus the garden door, where we found the puddle.’

  Charlie
passed the keys to Eve and me, with Rathbone looking on in smouldering disapproval. He paused after selecting keys to the stables, the greenhouses, and the family chapel. ‘Ollie, where’s the key to the garden door?’

  ‘It should be there,’ the butler muttered sourly. ‘That door hasn’t been opened since October.’

  ‘Well it isn’t, look for yourself,’ Charlie insisted.

  After a long, close scrutiny Rathbone reluctantly admitted that the key was indeed missing. It was at that point that my belief in my theory strengthened. My fear for Beaumont’s safety increased in proportion.

  ‘Don’t forget that dinner will be served in three-quarters of an hour’s time,’ Rathbone still had one shot in his locker.

  ‘That’s all right, you have my permission to start without us,’ Charlie told him.

  ‘Don’t worry, we will,’ the butler promised.

  ‘Sour-faced old dork,’ Charlie muttered as we walked away.

  ‘Charlie,’ Eve protested, ‘you shouldn’t use words like that, it’s not nice.’

  ‘You use it all the time,’ Charlie pointed out.

  ‘That’s different,’ she said weakly.

  ‘Actually, that’s pretty mild for your aunt,’ I told Charlie, ‘you should have heard some of the things she called me last night.’

  ‘Oi! I thought we were supposed to be calling it quits?’

  I smiled sweetly. ‘That was just to let you know I hadn’t forgotten.’

  We walked back through the kitchen watched in disapproving silence by Polly Jardine and Cathy Marsh. I was the recipient of a particularly hostile glare from Polly. The look wasn’t lost on Eve. When we reached the passage to the outside door she said, ‘The queen of quiches is certainly not amused. That’s because you’re with me, not dancing attendance on her; she doesn’t like competition.’

  ‘Competition for what?’ It was a dangerous, leading question.

  ‘Competition for any man’s company and attention,’ she told me. ‘She has a bit of a reputation.’

  ‘Whereas you’re as pure as the driven snow, I suppose?’ I’d have got a tirade of abuse for that remark the previous day, but twenty-four hours seemed to have wrought a remarkable change in Eve.

  ‘I can be wicked if I want. I’m just a little more selective.’ Eve turned to Charlie and asked, ‘Have you really seen old Rathbone watering the port down?’

  ‘No, of course not. But I know he drinks it, so it seemed natural he would,’ Charlie grinned.

  Eve hugged him. ‘You’re great, Charlie,’ she told him. ‘That was very clever.’

  ‘OK,’ I said when we reached the outside door, ‘which way do we play it. Charlie, you’re the local expert.’

  ‘Stables first I reckon, then the greenhouse, and finally the chapel.’

  ‘Right,’ – I’d had chance to think things over – ‘remember we’re not just looking for Beaumont. We’re also looking for signs that he met someone in one of those places.’

  Both of them looked at me in surprise. ‘If Beaumont went out and didn’t come back then he definitely met someone. Otherwise, how could the garden door be locked and bolted from the inside? That explains the puddle on the floor. That must have been done when someone came back inside the castle. Beaumont isn’t inside, therefore the puddle must have been made by someone else. Despite what the cynics back there think, I’m very much afraid for Beaumont’s safety.’

  ‘Do you think it might be the Rowe family curse?’ Charlie asked, half hopefully. ‘Do you think he’s disappeared, never to be seen again?’

  ‘Maybe, although I’m not a great believer in the supernatural. I think it might be something more sinister than a legend.’

  I opened the door and allowed Eve to step outside first. ‘Brace yourselves, men,’ she called over her shoulder and was immediately enveloped in a thick cloud of whirling snowflakes.

  ‘Come on, Charlie; don’t let your auntie show us up.’

  We followed Eve outside. I closed the door behind us and we were at once in that magical silent world a heavy snowstorm brings. As with the previous day, now there was little or no wind. This was a minor blessing in that it reduced the wind chill factor and stopped the snow driving into our faces. Set against that was the major disadvantage that it failed to take the snow clouds away.

  Eve had the stables’ keys and unlocked the door for us. There were no longer horses kept at the castle; none of the family had much interest in riding, Charlie informed me. The buildings had long since been converted into workshops and storage rooms. It took only a few minutes inspection to realize that wherever Beaumont had been headed it certainly wasn’t the stables. ‘Let’s try the garages whilst we’re close by,’ Charlie suggested.

  Again there was no sign that there had been any entry to the garages since the snow had begun. ‘OK, where now, Charlie?’ I asked.

  ‘The kitchen garden greenhouses are on the way to the chapel, why not go there first?’

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  We were already almost at the point where we would be risking the first course of our Christmas meal by the time we reached the greenhouses. They stood forlornly like three giant igloos covered in several inches of snow. The heat inside, whilst it was obviously kept low at this time of year, had been sufficient to melt some of the snow that had fallen on the glass, but obviously the effort had been too much, so there was a thick layer of ice. I wondered if the weight might eventually cause the frame to collapse. The effect would be spectacularly expensive, dangerous too, for anyone unlucky enough to be inside at the time.

  That had not been Beaumont’s fate and when I thought about it the greenhouses were an unlikely venue for a secret rendezvous. They were far too visible, particularly if the meeting had been planned in advance of the snow. Eve seemed to have taken responsibility for securing the buildings, so Charlie and I waited whilst she fiddled with the padlock on the final glasshouse. ‘There’s only the chapel left,’ Charlie told me, ‘and that means a half-mile walk.’

  ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a trek?’ Eve asked as we set off. ‘For Beaumont I mean, not us. Do you really think he’d have gone that far just to meet someone, when there were the stables and garages closer at hand and quite secret?’

  ‘True enough,’ I agreed. Even I was beginning to wonder if my theory had been just a wild fantasy based on the slimmest of evidence. I remembered the puddle, I remembered Beaumont’s missing clothes, and my resolve stiffened. ‘We must check it out, no matter how unlikely it might seem,’ I maintained.

  Eve gave a sigh of mock reluctance. ‘Never mind,’ she consoled me, ‘I was never that keen on turkey anyway.’

  The snow was almost to the tops of our wellingtons in places, making our progress slow. Eventually, through the blurring curtain of snow, I saw the outline of a building ahead. Indistinct though it was I recognized it as our objective immediately. As we struggled through a particularly deep stretch, Eve remarked suddenly, ‘I suppose you must be used to this sort of thing?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ I asked.

  She turned to reply, which was her undoing. Her foot slipped in the snow and before I could put out a hand to steady her she had gone full length and was lying face down in the snow. I lifted her to her feet, thankful that Charlie was far enough ahead not to hear the rich and varied assortment of expletives his aunt was capable of producing. I began helping her to dust the snow that had attached itself in liberal proportions to almost every item of her outer clothing. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘My leg hurts,’ she said and winced. She leaned against me. I brushed vigorously at her coat. As I started to knock the snow from the chest of the garment I saw her eyes sparkle dangerously and shifted my target immediately.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t think.’ I turned her and began attacking the rear of the coat. It fitted her snugly and I thought suddenly that Eve had a really attractive figure. As I removed the last of the snow she leaned against me. ‘Where does it hu
rt?’ I asked.

  ‘My ankle,’ she said, ‘it’s really painful.’

  ‘Are you OK, Auntie?’ Charlie had returned to see what was holding us up.

  ‘She’s taken a bit of a tumble and hurt her leg,’ I told him. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to walk the rest of the way?’ I asked her.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘If you’ll support me.’

  ‘No problem, just lean as much of your weight on my arm as you want.’

  Our progress was even slower after Eve’s fall. ‘Bang goes the Christmas pudding,’ I said flippantly.

  ‘I’ll not miss that,’ Eve said. ‘You never answered my question.’

  ‘What was that?’ I struggled to remember what we’d been talking about.

  ‘Snow. I said you must be used to snow, from the time you spent in the mountains.’

  ‘How did you know about that, did Harriet tell you?’

  ‘Harriet hasn’t told me a thing about you. I reckon she wants to keep you to herself. She and you were an item at one time, weren’t you?’

  ‘You mean you didn’t know about us? When we were at university together?’

  ‘Not until years afterwards. No, I read War in the Hills, that’s how I know about your escapades.’

  ‘When did you read that?’

  ‘Last night. I went into the library looking for something to read and found a copy on the table. I took it to my room; started to read it, and I couldn’t put it down. The only thing to disturb my reading was the succession of females visiting your room.’

  ‘How did you know about them?’

  ‘My room’s opposite yours. Anybody going to your room has to pass my door. When you hear tiptoeing footsteps in the middle of the night in a castle with a dodgy reputation it makes you curious. So I looked out and saw your harem coming and going.’

  ‘My harem! That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, what else would you call it? First there was Charlotte, she’s a bit long in the tooth for you though, don’t you think? Then my dear sister Harriet turned up, trying to rekindle the past, just in case her husband has inherited the family lunacy. Finally the Sexy Chef came along with the aphrodisiac whisky. Once that was over I was able to concentrate on the book. I’m not sure which was more exciting.’