But Alan was awake, too, and ready to start the day. After one look at my face he wisely said nothing, but simply made coffee and presented it to me with a kiss. I growled something, but the stuff smelled good, so I sat up and drank some, and then some more, and sleep gradually receded.
‘Oh, well, I suppose …’ I got up and showered, grumbling all the while. Alan slipped out to find a newspaper and came back with better coffee and some pastries, as it was too early for breakfast in our splendid hall.
‘We’ve got to stop eating like this,’ I snarled, trying to button my pants. ‘I’m getting terribly fat.’
‘Perhaps we need to take more exercise.’ He was still a little short of breath from the stairs, which made me laugh – as he had intended.
‘I remember,’ I said, ‘when I was a little girl, I was mad about something and was sulking, and my sisters decided to make me laugh, to shake me out of it. They succeeded, and that made me madder than ever. I wanted to be in a snit.’
‘Oh, dear, I’d best be careful, then. Almond croissant?’
My very favourite pastry. I bit into the flaky sweetness, gave up my snit, and smiled. ‘I can’t imagine why you put up with me.’
‘You have a few redeeming qualities. Curiosity and persistence, among them.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m about to give up on this one. We’re getting nowhere.’
‘I don’t agree. We know a good deal more about Nathan Elliot, and what we know makes it extremely likely that he was murdered.’
I brightened a little. ‘Which also makes it much more likely that Armstrong was murdered for what he saw that day.’
Alan grinned. ‘And since you’ve been convinced of both those scenarios from the first, isn’t it nice that you’ve been confirmed? Almost.’ He dodged the pillow I brandished. ‘And we have one solid piece of evidence.’
‘The button. I’d forgotten the button. The police didn’t think much of it, though.’
‘The gentlemen at the station house were extremely annoyed that they hadn’t found it. They were obliged to disparage our discovery in order to save their honour. I’ll wager anything you like that they are at this moment exploring every possible way to identify that button. Laundries, dry-cleaning establishments, shops – anything they can think of.’
‘Ooh, wouldn’t it be fun if we figured it out first!’
‘Which we have very little chance of doing, love. We are limited in our power to go about asking questions.’
‘True. Or at least of getting people to answer them. Witness Mrs Elliot. I’ll swear she knows where George is, or at any rate where he’s likely to be, but she’s refused to tell me or the police, and I wonder why.’
‘Oh, that’s an easy one. She isn’t worried about him because she knows he’s not in danger, and she doesn’t want him mixed up with the police because she knows, or suspects, that some of his activities wouldn’t bear close scrutiny. Don’t forget she said he’s a lot like his brother.’
‘Ah. His brother the blackmailer. What do you suppose George has been up to?’
‘He’s an accountant, didn’t you say?’
‘Oh, my, yes. A profession that offers countless opportunities—’
Alan’s groan interrupted me, and I heard what I’d said.
‘Drat it, I never mean these things! That’s just the way my mind works. Anyway, opportunities for anyone who’s smart and not overly concerned about legality and ethics.’
‘And that, since we’re now back in the realm of unsupported speculation, makes me wonder what sort of hold he had on the man who tossed his house.’
I finished my coffee along with another pastry, knowing I’d be sorry later, and dusted off my hands. ‘And until we find George and/or his intruder, we’re stuck.’
‘So, to that end, I think we should invite Tim and Eileen to lunch. They’re our link to the student world.’
‘You think our informant – darn it, we forgot to ask his name – you think he was right about the instigator being a student?’
‘I think he’s a keen observer, at any rate. And what other lead do we have?’
The breakfast room downstairs was now open, but as we were both stuffed with carbs, we went for a walk until we could decently call Tim or Eileen. Seven thirty of a lovely summery morning was far too early to disturb anyone, even someone as mature and responsible as both these kids.
We walked, of course, down to the river. This time I was paying close attention to the bushes near the path.
‘Looking for another button?’ asked Alan.
‘Yes, I am, and don’t laugh. Or if not a button, something – anything – that might give us a lead.’
But there was nothing. Not so much as a beer can or a cigarette butt. Evidently the maintenance crew had taken advantage of the students’ absence to do a thorough clean-up. ‘It looks like they ran a vacuum cleaner along the path,’ I said in disgust. ‘Even Sherlock Holmes couldn’t find anything here.’
‘We can’t get lucky every time, you know. Real villains aren’t as eager as the fictional sort to strew their belongings about.’
When we came near to the place where Nathan went into the river I stopped, looking at the river and its bank as if they could tell me something.
‘Meditating?’
‘Not exactly, just … oh, it’s silly. I thought I might pick up some vibes or something.’
‘I’m not laughing, love. You do have a keen sense of atmosphere.’
‘In old churches, anyway. But not here. I’m feeling nothing except impatience.’
Alan looked at his watch. ‘Let’s walk on toward the bridge and go up that way, and then we’ll phone the kids.’
As we neared the bridge we saw a little knot of people standing on the riverbank looking down. ‘Oh, Alan, no! Don’t tell me someone else has drowned!’
My agitated voice carried, and one of the bystanders turned to me. ‘Don’t worry, ma’am. It’s nothing like that. A chap’s doing a bit of diving.’
‘But … are there interesting creatures down there or something?’
My informant laughed. ‘No, the fellow’s an archaeologist, and he’s found all sorts in the river. Old coins and that. Telling us a lot about what life was like hereabouts hundreds of years ago.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Alan. ‘I was reading something about it in the newspaper this morning. It said there used to be shops on one of the bridges, and one poor shopkeeper lost everything when his shop collapsed into the river.’
‘S’right. Some of it don’t look like much when he brings it out, but clean it up and it’s amazing.’
‘Goodness. Like a dig, but he’s digging in water, so to speak.’
‘S’right.’ The man beamed at us and went back to his observation.
I couldn’t see that there was anything much to observe, as all the activity was under the surface, but to each his own. We moved on. ‘Alan, could we call now, do you think?’
He pulled out his phone. Yes, Tim was home. Eileen had just got there; they were helping David get organized in his new digs. Yes, they’d love to have lunch, thank you. No, David wouldn’t be able to join us – still searching for a home for Amanda. The Italian place? Super.
TWENTY-TWO
I killed part of the morning reading the newspaper account of the diving archaeologist, and the rest shopping for gifts. We would be going home soon, whether the problems were solved or not. The summer university term began on Monday, so students would be moving back into their rooms on Sunday, and we would be evicted. David had offered to put us up in a hotel, but a retired policeman isn’t made of money. We declined with thanks, and I started thinking about what Jane, our neighbour and pet-sitter, would love.
Durham’s Market Square is small but crammed with shops. I usually enjoy shopping, but I had a hard time keeping my mind on what I was doing. I wandered into the indoor market and went from stall to stall in a fog. I’d pick up a pair of gardening gloves I thought Jane would like, and stand s
taring at them, wondering how David was doing in his frantic search. I found a wooden train I was sure she’d love to give to her great-grandson and wondered if the police had checked with the railways for signs of George.
I pulled myself together in time to buy the gloves and the train and a marked-down spring jacket that looked just right for Jane (and big enough), and trundled heavily laden to the Italian restaurant to meet Alan and the kids. Tim and Alan helped me stow my parcels and sat down. I was a little late; they had already ordered a huge plate of antipasto which arrived the moment I sat down.
The waiter also brought us a large bottle of white wine. I looked at Alan, eyebrows raised. We had planned to have a discussion over our meal, and lots of wine doesn’t usually aid serious thinking.
Eileen caught the look and chuckled. ‘We know, Dorothy, but we insisted on treating everyone to a nice wine. We’re celebrating!’
I glanced at her left hand, but it wasn’t that. This time Tim joined in the laughter. ‘Not yet, Dorothy. But soon! Right now, the good news is that I’m a wealthy man! Or nearly.’
‘Your aunt’s will has been reversed?’
‘Not yet, though my lawyer is hopeful. No, I told you about my sister, who’s comfortably fixed. She’s a dear, and we’ve always been close. Well – wait for it – she just won the lottery!’
‘Tim! Not one of those multi-million ones!’
‘No, but a very nice sum indeed. And she’s going halves with me! What with that and my grand, new, rent-free rooms, I can give up my night job. I’ll still do the tours of the castle, but that’s usually only once or twice a week. I’m a free man!’
‘What wonderful luck!’ I enthused.
‘Or pure grace. So here’s to a brighter future.’ We raised our glasses. ‘It’s a pity David can’t be here to celebrate with us,’ said Eileen. ‘Tim would still have to work the other job if not for his generosity.’
‘He’s a good man, David,’ said Alan, ‘but you know you’re doing him a favour, too. He needed to get away from his family, dearly as he loves them, and he wouldn’t be able to maintain that house without help.’
‘Yes, well.’ Tim shrugged that off, the typical English reaction to anything resembling praise. ‘I’m sure you didn’t invite us to lunch for us to crow. Are we making any progress?’
‘Some,’ said Alan, and after the waiter took our orders Alan related what we’d learned over the past few hours. ‘What with the revelations of Nathan’s not very savoury character, and a few more details about the prank at George’s house, I’ve come round to Dorothy’s point of view. I think it’s almost certain that Nathan was pushed into the river and that Dr Armstrong was a witness to at least some part of the event.’
‘And that he was killed because of that,’ I finished.
‘I’m not ready to go quite that far, not yet,’ said Alan, ‘but it’s certainly within the realm of possibility.’
‘That means all we have to do,’ said Eileen, swallowing a black olive, ‘is prove all that, and find the murderer, and Amanda is home free.’
‘Yes,’ said Tim gently, ‘that’s all.’
I didn’t want to dwell on the enormity of the task still in front of us. ‘We did find one tangible clue,’ I said, ‘or at least a possible one. There was a button caught in a man-eating rose by George’s front door. My theory is that the villain lost it when he fled from the house, but of course it could have been George’s.’
‘Ooh! Do you have it with you?’
Alan smiled at Eileen. ‘We left it with the police, of course, but Dorothy took a picture.’
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but the picture wasn’t very good. ‘I’m afraid it just looks like a button, any old button.’
Tim and Eileen studied it closely but could make nothing of it. ‘If we had the actual button, we could show it around, but this … I’m sorry, Dorothy, I don’t mean to insult your picture—’
‘I’m a terrible photographer, and a phone isn’t a wonderful camera. I wish we had the real thing, too, but Alan is a policeman first and last.’ I smiled at him to take away the sting.
Our food arrived then, smelling as marvellous as Italian food always does, and for a few minutes we concentrated on the joy of gluttony. I stopped before I had to undo the button on my jeans, but it was a near thing.
Tim pushed his plate away. ‘I won’t need to eat for several days,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Dorothy and Alan. Now, what can we do to help with the investigation?’
Alan slipped into his lecturing mode. ‘We have only the slightest description of the man who caused the brouhaha at George’s house, the one who incited the chorus men to wreak their destruction, but our informant was certain he was a student, of average height and build, and not from these parts. A southern accent, he said.’
Tim whistled silently. ‘Not a great deal of help, is it? Amongst thousands of students …’
‘We can narrow it down a bit,’ I said. ‘The man we’re looking for is presumably one of Nathan’s blackmail victims, therefore someone he knew. Wouldn’t that make it more likely to be a student from his own college, St Jude’s?’
‘Somewhat more likely, I agree.’ Tim was very thoughtful. ‘But you know we take classes and attend lectures with men and women from all the colleges. What would help a great deal is knowing what he’s studying.’
I sighed. ‘I suppose we’ll have to find out somehow. More delay.’
We declined dessert and polished off the wine, but our celebratory mood had dimmed. Two more days, plus one afternoon, to free Amanda from suspicion and allow her to keep her home.
Standing up gets to be more and more of a problem the older I get, especially from a comfortable seat. I struggled out of the booth, dropping one of my parcels in the process. The jacket I’d bought for Jane slithered out onto the floor. Alan picked it up, shook it out, and raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you a secret admirer, dear heart?’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s for Jane.’
‘It’s intended for a man. Look at the way it’s cut. Look at the way it buttons. Left over right.’
‘Oh. I didn’t notice. It was on sale and it looked sturdy, and big enough for Jane, and anyway she goes in for masculine styles …’ I stopped, looking more closely at the buttons. ‘Alan!’
‘Let’s get it out into the light.’ Our companions followed us eagerly.
‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ Alan said when he had taken a good look.
‘And see,’ I added, ‘the sleeve buttons aren’t sewn on very tightly. One could easily be wrenched off.’
‘So you think it was a jacket like this one?’ asked Eileen.
‘Or one with the same buttons. There must be thousands of them out there.’ My initial excitement was rapidly subsiding.
‘Never mind, love.’ Alan patted my shoulder. ‘It’s a tiny step, but in the right direction.’
‘And we’ll keep a close watch for a jacket like this,’ said Tim, ‘or buttons like these. It will all come right in the end. Try not to worry too much.’
‘Easy for him to say,’ I grumbled as we walked back to the castle. I was beginning to get used to hills; my legs weren’t aching much anymore. ‘He’s young. Nothing seems as urgent when your whole life is in front of you.’
‘I think you’ve forgotten how desperately large small matters could loom when you were that age,’ said Alan, taking my arm as we hit a steep bit. ‘The next examination was a life-or-death ordeal. A problem with one’s love life could be shattering. No, I think the reason Tim is hopeful lies not in his youth, but in his faith. Don’t forget he’s planning to enter the priesthood.’
The cathedral bells rang out just then, as if in agreement.
‘Oh, dear. And Hope is a virtue. That’s one in the eye for me, isn’t it? Very well. I’ll try to be more hopeful. But even if God sees to the design, we’re the ones who have to work it out, and I have no idea what to do next!’
‘That is the problem,’ Alan admitted. ‘Let’s
have some coffee and make a plan.’
We’d gone over and over the same ground so often that we had the steps memorized. ‘Let’s go back to the beginning,’ Alan suggested. ‘Or the point at which we entered the scene. Armstrong’s death. Is there some path we’ve neglected to follow?’
‘Not that I can think of. We, or the police, have questioned everybody at the Milton Home. All we’ve learned is that someone could have come in the back way, through the kitchen, but that doesn’t tell us much. Oh, but wait!’ If we’d been in a comic strip, a light bulb would have appeared over my head. ‘We have something to show them now. We could ask if anyone’s seen a man wearing this jacket! Only …’ I sighed. ‘With David running around all day with the car, we don’t have a way to get out there.’ I hadn’t fully appreciated the convenience of a car until we were without one. Going anywhere was much more complicated and time-consuming, and in cases like this, impossible.
Alan stood, pulled out his phone and began poking at it. ‘It’s time we hired a car.’ One more poke and he was talking to someone. ‘Yes. Good. As soon as possible, please. We’re in the castle. Yes. Yes. Right.’
He put the phone back in his pocket. ‘Enterprise. They deliver, and are allowed to come to the Palace Green to pick us up. Get your skates on, woman!’
It was lovely to be in a car again, with Alan at the wheel. True, it was smaller than ours, and not quite as comfortable, but it didn’t matter. We were independent again! With satnav on my phone, we got to the home without a hitch. Alan having called to say we were coming, the woman at the front desk greeted us with a smile and phoned Mr Williams to say we were there.
When he came down to meet us, it was obvious he wasn’t best pleased. Though courteous, he was less than cordial. ‘I hope you haven’t come to discuss Miss Bowen’s situation. We of course regret the necessity, but I assure you we have no alternative but to ask her to find another home.’
I caught up. ‘Oh. Great-aunt Amanda, you mean. I didn’t know her surname. No, we don’t intend to argue with you, though I assure you that you’ve made the wrong decision.’
Death Comes to Durham Page 17
