Diamonds of Death

by Vivian Conroy

  Jake glanced at her. ‘I would not have asked you to do this, if I had not been fairly certain Mac is innocent and the killer still at large.’

  ‘Right. At large in the very house where I will be staying. Fabulous.’

  ‘We can assume that the killer had a clear motive for wanting to dispose of Lord Winters. He will not suddenly come after you.’

  ‘Or she,’ Alkmene said. ‘Killers can be female, you know.’

  ‘Then they use poison,’ Jake said decidedly. ‘They do not bash somebody’s head in with a polo trophy.’

  Alkmene exhaled. ‘Perhaps it was a crime committed in anger. Nothing premeditated.’

  Jake shrugged. ‘What difference does it make? We need to know who did it, to clear my friend’s name.’

  Alkmene nodded. ‘After all of it is over and his name is cleared, I do want to meet him and be treated to all the stories of the robberies he did manage to pull off.’

  Jake grunted. ‘I doubt he will want to go public.’

  ‘I thought he had already gone public.’

  ‘The police have not released his name, just said that a burglar was apprehended on the scene. As long as we can keep his real name out of it…’

  ‘His real name?’

  ‘The police have him under an alias.’ Jake glanced at her. ‘You do not think he is using his real name, right? He has a fake passport and everything. If he manages to get out of this scrape in one piece, he can assume another identity and hit the Riviera again, or some other place.’

  ‘You condone theft?’

  ‘No, but I can understand the appeal of the particular thing he steals. Special gems, stones with a story attached.’

  Jake caught her eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Don’t you?’

  Alkmene exhaled. ‘Yes, I guess so. There was some story about Lord Winters and some special stones Father told me once. It is years ago and… I have no idea why he suddenly mentioned it to me. He never was in touch much with those relatives.’

  Jake glanced at her. ‘You said that Lady Winters was your mother’s half-sister?’

  ‘Yes.’ Alkmene realized there was no evading this for ever, so she decided to get it over with now. ‘My mother was the daughter of an earl. After the earl’s death her mother fell in love with an army captain. Her family had wanted a much better match for her, but she insisted she loved him. She wasn’t a sixteen-year-old any more that her parents could force into an alliance, so she did what she wanted and they married. They had three more children, one of whom was the woman who eventually married Lord Winters in India. My mother’s half-sister.’

  ‘In India?’ Jake asked. ‘Not here?’

  Alkmene shook her head. ‘As far as I understand it, the captain was engaged in India for most of his career. No active duty on the battlefield, but being an aide, doing correspondence. The more diplomatic end of things, so to speak. His children were all raised there and married there as well. I think Father mentioned in passing that Lord Winters was quite a good catch.’

  No doubt he had only emphasized it to goad her into bringing home a titled man as well. So far the closest she had come to being at ease with a man was with the Honourable Frederick Saltry, Freddie to his friends who were about as manifold as his debts.

  Father would hardly think him suitable considering his reputation, and beyond that Alkmene didn’t want to look or think. Being married would mean losing freedom, and one thing she craved was freedom.

  Just to take off like she had now and do whatever she wanted to do.

  Including pulling Jake into this scrape with her. She did feel better that he would be on the premises, even if he would not exactly be on her level.

  She grinned to herself. ‘I can already see you sitting around the kitchen table with the other servants, gossiping about me.’

  ‘Gossiping?’ Jake echoed.

  ‘Oh, yes, you have to complain about me, my eccentric ways… That will surely make the others feel sympathy for you. They will share their bit about their masters, providing you with exactly the kind of information you need.’

  ‘Your eccentric ways?’ Jake asked.

  Alkmene shrugged. ‘You can make something up. Be resourceful.’

  ‘That will be the only part I’ll enjoy,’ Jake groused.

  Alkmene stared ahead, folding her hands in her lap. ‘You know how staff know everything that goes on in a house. Who doesn’t like whom, what quarrels there were shortly before the master died. What ways he had, how he kept the stones. Who went to bed early that night or stayed up, scurrying about claiming to have a sleepless night. You know how servants are. They peek and listen and get into cabinets where they are not supposed to go. If caught out, they act like they are contrite about it, but in fact they are gloating and can’t wait to tell their fellows about it. I bet if you would just dump your pride and sit with them in the kitchen at night, you’d scoop up your worthwhile tidbits by the dozens…’

  ‘Enough,’ Jake said tightly. ‘You are laying it on too thick.’

  Alkmene bit her lip, hoping she had not really overdone it. She knew someone fiercely proud and independent like Jake would rather eat his hat than pose as a servant, but it was true that very valuable information could only be gleaned that way. The servants would never confide in her: a titled woman who had never shown her face at the estate before. They would gossip about her, all right, but they would never tell her a thing.

  Jake sighed. ‘I am only doing this because I have to, remember. For Mac’s sake.’

  ‘Of course. Good. I will call you Parker. I have always wanted a valet called Parker.’

  Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t push me.’

  ‘Well, I do need a reason to have you around. I will have to claim my health is much weaker than they ever suspected it was. Of course my mother died pretty young of a weak heart, so I might easily convince them I am not very strong either. That I need you to carry things for me, fetch things for me, drive me around, make sure everything is just right for my needs.’

  Jake gritted his teeth audibly.

  Alkmene laughed out loud. ‘I am sure it will yield something great and you will be happy we did this.’

  Jake shook his head slowly. ‘I hope too that we will get the killer, I really do, but even if we do and I can clear a man whom I respect and value, I will never, ever, be happy about this.’

  Chapter Four

  They whooshed through the entrance gate, seeing the house up ahead bathing in the afternoon sunshine. Alkmene gasped at its austere beauty, the many touches of refined architecture in the garden. The fountain, the sundial. The dove house. She had to explore soon and see it all up close. If she hadn’t come here on such a sad occasion and with a serious mission in mind, she would have been genuinely excited to see this place at last and meet the family she had never known. Her cousins who had grown up in India and who could no doubt share many fascinating stories about life there.

  Jake parked the car right in front of the steps. Alkmene opened the door, but he stayed her with a hand on her arm. ‘Remember to get out of the car like you have trouble with it. You can’t dart about like a puppy while claiming to need your driver every step of the way.’

  Alkmene acknowledged that he was right and took her time getting out of the car. She put a hand on her back and used the other to shield her eyes as she glanced up at the house’s imposing facade. A lace curtain moved like someone was looking down.

  Family member?

  Curious servant?

  The front door opened, and a butler came down the steps with a solemn expression. ‘Excuse me, but the house is not open for visitors today. We have had a death in the family.’

  ‘I am aware of that,’ Alkmene said, hiding her surprise that the house had apparently been open to the public previously. Families often decided to do it to collect necessary funds for restoration and upkeep, but she had not realized her own family might be in such a position. As Lord Winters had apparently owned a fortune in diamonds, such
a measure would seem unnecessary.

  The butler was expecting her to continue and she hastily said, ‘I am Lady Alkmene Callender, the late Lord Winters’ niece from London.’

  Niece only by a percentage, but she need not tell that to the butler, she presumed. ‘I have come all the way down here to pay my respects to the family upon Lord Winters’ death.’

  The man shot up straight. ‘Of course, Lady Alkmene. Will you be so good as to follow me inside? There is quite a strong wind today, which makes it rather chilly.’ He made an inviting gesture towards the open door.

  Alkmene looked at Jake. ‘You can get the bags in, Parker.’

  Jake’s jaw set, but he did what he was told without showing any clear signs of rebellion.

  Alkmene covered the few yards slowly and with her hand still resting on the small of her back. ‘I do find travelling so very exerting,’ she said to nobody in particular, but surely the butler would be all ears. If a hitherto unknown member of a family showed up, it was usually a momentous occasion for the staff. Who was this? What were they doing here? She had no doubt they would assume her arrival was associated with a will somewhere that might benefit her.

  She did feel like a scavenger again.

  Inside the cool hallway she looked with admiration at the oil paintings, the mounted deer, the hunting rifles casually hung upon the far wall and over the stairs. The house breathed a true country atmosphere.

  The door to her left opened, and a strikingly beautiful tall dark woman came out. ‘What is this?’ she asked in a deep, slightly throaty voice. ‘I told you we would not allow visitors in this week.’

  ‘Excuse me, my lady.’ The butler bowed his head. ‘This is the late Lord Winters’ niece. Lady Alkmene Callender.’

  Alkmene flashed her brightest smile, then remembered she was here because of a death, and wiped the smile away again. She said demurely, ‘I read about Lord Winters’ death in the paper and felt it pertinent to travel here at once to pay my respects to his children. Especially to Anne, who wrote to me several times since your return to England.’

  The woman seemed insecure a moment as if she wasn’t certain what to say or do next. Apparently she had not known about Anne’s letters. She glanced at Jake and the bags he was carrying. ‘You intend to stay here?’

  It sounded cold and hostile, as if that was the worst plan Alkmene could ever have come up with.

  Alkmene resisted smiling too wide again to cover up for the rudeness of this intrusion and said, ‘I came all the way from London. Quite a tiring journey. I intend to stay for a few days and enjoy the country air. So very good for the lungs, you know.’

  The woman’s eyes flashed, but she gestured at the butler. ‘Have rooms prepared at once. Lady Alkmene can have the blue room.’

  The butler’s eyes went wide. ‘But my lady… The blue room is… Was…’

  She waved her hand again. ‘Do as I tell you.’ And to Alkmene she said, ‘Come in. You must wish to have some tea.’

  She turned back into the room she had come from, calling over her shoulder at the butler, ‘Have Ms Deeds bring tea and sandwiches at once.’

  Alkmene nodded at Jake. ‘You can put the bags in the blue room, Parker. Then you may move the car. The butler can tell you where to put it.’ With a careless, dismissive hand gesture, she entered the room.

  It was large with golden curtains, several delicate cherrywood chairs, a desk with inlaid ivory and a large piano with music on top of it. The woman walked over and sat down. She ran her fingers across the keys producing a soft haunting tune.

  Alkmene stood listening for a few moments, then seated herself in a chair. She had not been invited to, but then her back was really a little stiff from the long ride and her hostess didn’t seem intent on inviting her to sit at all.

  She frowned. The woman’s behaviour was very odd. One moment she was in total command, acting like she ruled the household; the next moment her behaviour changed and she seemed insecure, as if she was only present on the scene by mistake and had no part at all in playing hostess to the sudden visitors.

  There was the sound of hoof beats outside and as Alkmene looked out of the window, she saw a tall attractive young man on a black horse racing across the lawn. As he came from the shadows into the sunlight, he threw his head back as if he wanted to feel the sun’s warmth on his face. Could this be George, the younger of the two sons?

  He halted in front of the house and dismounted, throwing the reins carelessly to a stable boy who had come running at the sound of his approach.

  ‘Helena! Helena!’ Bellowing as if he was calling for his dog, the handsome man ascended the steps in front of the house, banged the front door open, then shut, and entered the room where Alkmene sat. He only had eyes for the woman at the piano. He called, ‘The police keep saying the burglar did not have the stones on him. But that is impossible.’

  Alkmene froze at the mention of the stones. Jake had said his friend Mac had been hired by George Winters to steal the stones. What on earth could George have intended with that action?

  And had this woman been in on it? Was she George’s wife?

  Alkmene could not recall whether George had married but then she might have missed the announcement.

  At the sudden entrance the woman had stopped playing, rising abruptly. The look on her face made the new arrival fall silent. He followed the direction of her warning gaze and saw Alkmene. She smiled up at him, not bothering to rise. ‘Good afternoon. I am Lady Alkmene Callender, the late Lord Winters’ niece.’

  ‘I know no one by that name. Get going.’ He gestured at the woman. ‘Come with me. We have to talk.’

  The woman flushed. ‘George, please, don’t be so rude. This is really your father’s niece.’

  George stood, his feet planted apart, surveying Alkmene with his deep set dark eyes. ‘So what?’ he asked at last. ‘My father is dead, and I don’t care for any niece of his. You sure never bothered to come here before.’

  Alkmene blinked at the blunt statement, at the same time acknowledging it was true. Anne had written to her, and she had simply ignored the letters, not really sure what to do with them. Maybe George knew that Anne had written and never received a reply?

  Or this rudeness could just be George’s way of dealing with his father’s violent death.

  ‘My father is away in India,’ she said hurriedly, intending to use his absence as some sort of an excuse, but the young man grabbed at his head, saying, ‘I don’t want to hear anything about that accursed place. That is where it all began, that…’

  He looked at the woman, his expression suddenly vaguely panicky. ‘We really have to talk.’

  The woman smiled at him and spoke in a slow, soothing tone as if to a child, ‘Of course we will. Please excuse me, Lady Alkmene. I will be back as soon as I can.’

  She left the room together with the impetuous young man.

  Now at least she had met two family members. Alkmene wished Father had told her more about family relations, but realizing in the same thought that if Father had any idea of what she was doing here, he would be appalled. He had carefully kept from her what exactly had happened to her aunt. There had to be some reason for it.

  Nothing good.

  Alkmene shifted her weight uncomfortably. Perhaps it was her own pressing awareness of duplicity in coming here. But there seemed to be something odd to this house. Unbalanced.

  Vaguely threatening.

  Metal clanged outside the door, and moments later, a plump woman entered with a trolley holding fine china and trays with muffins, scones and sandwiches. ‘Did I hear Master George?’ she asked, looking around the room.

  Alkmene smiled. ‘He was here a moment ago, but he stepped out with his wife. He will be back soon.’

  ‘Master George has no wife. You must mean Lady Helena. She is married to Lord Albert. She owns it all now.’

  The woman’s tone was resentful.

  Alkmene flushed over her faux pas. But George’s apparent depe
ndency on this woman and her way of accommodating him had suggested a closer bond than that of in-laws.

  Alkmene said quickly, ‘I see you prepared all these delicious things for George.’

  ‘Whenever he goes out riding, he comes back with an appetite.’ The woman smiled, her face wrinkling round the eyes and mouth. ‘I do like to spoil him a little.’

  She came over two steps and studied Alkmene. ‘You must forgive me, my lady, for saying so, but you do look a lot like your mother. I only saw her in photographs but she was so pretty. The late Lady Winters talked about her sister in England a lot. It is good to see you here.’

  Alkmene returned her smile. This sudden rush of appreciation felt like a warm bath after the family members’ cold reception of her. ‘My mother died when I was very young. If you can tell me anything about her, I would be very grateful. Perhaps we can talk some time while I am here?’

  The woman’s expression changed at once, from warmth and welcome to fear. ‘I do not think it possible, my lady. The new Lady Winters is very stern; she doesn’t like staff engaging with the guests.’

  There was a sound in the hallway, and she shot back, curtsying nervously. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  She retreated in a rush to the door, almost bumping into the dark handsome woman who came back in. ‘Have you poured?’ Helena snapped at the servant.

  ‘No, but…’ The woman swallowed hard.

  Alkmene jumped to her feet. ‘I said I would do it. I enjoy puttering with tea stuff.’ As she said it, she realized how ridiculous it was to act like hostess in this strange house and how she would not endear herself to the other woman by this approach. Barge in, act like she belonged here. While Helena now ‘owned it all’ as the housekeeper had aptly put it.

  But Alkmene didn’t want the housekeeper to feel bad about her faux pas. If she had known her mother’s half-sister and had even seen photographs of her mother shown by this half-sister, she wanted to know more about that.

  Her hostess came closer with short abrupt steps. ‘I will do it. You must be tired from your journey. You had better sit.’