Diamonds of Death

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘Well, the family link is just a tad disturbing, I admit. After several people describing my aunt as eccentric, or a bit odd, I was worried she could have been right in her fears she was losing her mind. But I feel better now. She certainly did not imagine the intruder who strangled her.’ Alkmene waved her fork in the air. ‘An empty safe, nothing stolen, and still a woman killed. For this non-theft?’

  ‘Perhaps she walked in when the thief was just opening the safe and discovering there was nothing in it. Perhaps he turned and your aunt saw his face. He would have had to kill her then to prevent her from ever identifying him.’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Alkmene shook her head violently. ‘You just told me she was exploring the empty safe when the killer came up from behind and strangled her. But if her back was turned on him, she could never have seen his face. He could just have walked out of the door while she was peeking into the empty safe. So why strangle her? Murder seems such a violent act for a burglar. Especially when he is not cornered and does not feel forced to use violence to escape. Why, if the intruder had a chance to get away without having been seen, did he feel the need to kill the mistress of the house?’

  ‘That is a very good question, and I have no idea.’ Jake lowered the sheets of paper. ‘When I took down all this information, it seemed like a lot and useful, but now I have a sinking feeling it didn’t help us much. It only raises a ton of questions we have no answers to. And as it all happened years ago, in India at that, how can we ever find out what we need to know?’

  Alkmene nodded. ‘Right. For one thing, it doesn’t explain at all why George would blame his father for his mother’s death. His father was not at home when the intruder strangled his mother. I assume she was home alone quite often so merely leaving his wife home alone can’t have implied guilt on Lord Winters’ part.’

  She frowned. ‘Unless George is just claiming that his father’s collection of stones pulled in the intruder and therefore he is guilty. It does pose a risk to keep a valuable collection of gems in your home. And my aunt wrote that part of the collection had been the object of a vendetta. That she believed members of the two rival families were watching them to get the stones back. She had warned her husband about this, so Lord Winters knew about the risk.’

  ‘And ignored it,’ Jake said. ‘George might blame his father for not taking his mother’s warning seriously.’

  Alkmene pursed her lips. ‘But that seems so indirect. George is an impatient, impulsive person. This reasoning seems a little too subtle for him. Why blame a father who was absent on the night in question?’

  ‘George is also a hard drinker who might just be nursing a grudge. Unreasonable or not. If it made sense to him, he might have struck the fatal blow with the polo trophy.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Alkmene took the last bite of pie and savoured it. ‘This was delicious.’

  ‘You want another slice?’ Jake asked.

  Alkmene shrugged. ‘I would like it, but I’d better not. Besides, if I were to order second servings, I’d try the cherry pie. Just to see if it is as good as this one.’

  Jake gestured to the waiter. Before Alkmene could protest, he had ordered a slice of cherry pie with custard and whipped cream. Alkmene leaned back. ‘You’re paying, I presume?’

  Jake grinned. ‘Of course.’ He tapped the papers. ‘I have asked my contact to check for me whether those alibis were ever properly checked out. I mean, was Albert really with his father at some banquet of a local dignitary? Was George really miles and miles away with polo friends?’

  ‘Was Anne really ill?’ Alkmene supplied.

  Jake hitched a brow at her. ‘You think an eleven-year-old girl might have strangled her own mother?’

  Alkmene shook her head. ‘I think she might have pretended to be more ill than she was, in order to stay at home alone with her mother Have time together or something. From her stories I got the impression they were quite close, taking care of the injured animals and all. Then in her fever that night, she wandered through the house and might have seen something. More than a glimpse of some golden fabric that could be significant.’

  She held his gaze. ‘Like you just said, we cannot be sure that Lord Winters and his sons were really far away. One of them might have come home to do the evil deed. And if Anne really knows more about that murder of old, she could be in danger.’

  ‘Years have passed since then, and nothing happened to her.’ Jake studied her. ‘If you are right and one of the three men is involved in the death of your aunt, and Anne knows something about the killer, she has been living under the same roof with him all this time. Why not try to silence her before?’

  Alkmene shrugged. ‘Maybe the killer has already tried to silence her.’

  Jake tilted his head. ‘I do not follow.’

  Alkmene leaned back in her chair. ‘Several people tried very hard to convince others that Anne is unstable and should not be believed. Her father wanted her to see a psychiatrist, go into therapy. If word of that got around, she would be classified as batty. If she ever talked about the night of her mother’s murder, nobody would listen to her or believe a word she said about what she had allegedly seen. Besides, Anne told me her father lied to her about what really happened that night. I am not saying they lied to her to harm her. But one of them might have had an ulterior motive. And it is fascinating that both my aunt and now Lord Winters died in a room in front of an open but empty safe. Where were the stones back then? And where are they now? Your friend Mac did not take them. Did the killer take them? But where did he put them?’

  She sat up. ‘Lord Winters said at the time that the safe had been empty. Did he explain where his valuables were?’

  ‘Yes. In a safe at his other house. He had a summer residence up north. Apparently he did take his wife’s warnings seriously enough to move the valuables.’

  ‘I see. Somebody must not have known that.’ Alkmene pursed her lips. ‘Or the killer wanted to kill my aunt all along and only opened the safe to make it look like he had been an intruder caught red-handed, killing on impulse.’

  ‘A ruse?’ Jake pursed his lips. ‘Who wanted her dead at the time?’

  ‘Her husband, if talk can be believed, wanted to marry another. He was talking about taking a second wife, in addition to his first, my aunt, but we all know that the law would not have allowed it. The only way he could legally marry Helena was if his wife was dead. He might have made it so.’

  ‘But he was at a banquet with Albert. They must have vouched for each other at the time. Did Albert lie about his father’s presence there?’

  Alkmene shrugged. ‘Why not? After all, we must remember that when Lord Winters found out Albert had married Helena he said that they had betrayed him. Why would he say such a thing?’

  Jake frowned at her. ‘You think Albert and his father made a deal to vouch for each other while one of them killed Lady Winters, so that Lord Winters could then marry Helena?’

  ‘Possibly. And then Albert married her instead, breaking their arrangement.’

  ‘But Albert could have married her all along. He was not married, not bound in any way. Why would his mother have had to die to enable him to marry Helena? That makes no sense at all.’ Jake shook his head. ‘No, I bet you that Albert’s marriage to Helena had nothing to do with the whole thing. I even bet that Helena being such a siren and all, according to popular belief, has nothing to do with it. The stones are the key to the whole thing, then and now.’

  Alkmene tilted her head. ‘You like Helena.’

  Jake snorted. ‘I am only pointing out that it is more logical to assume a precious stone collection is a motive for murder than some vague allusion to beauty luring men. It is such a clichéd prejudice.’

  Alkmene wanted to say something to defend her theory, but a shadow fell over their table, and a young man stood there, feet planted apart. ‘Lady Alkmene,’ he said with a brusque nod of the head. ‘Mr Jake Dubois.’

  He focused on Jake as he continued, ‘Newspap
er reporter on the scent of a hot story. I am telling you you’d better forget about it. Go back to where you came from and don’t show your face again at the Winters estate. Or you will be sorry for it.’

  Jake sat up. ‘And you are?’

  ‘That does not matter. I know who you are. I can go over there and tell them. Then your nice little charade will be over. A chauffeur, hmm?’ He clicked his tongue. ‘You will have to leave and you will perhaps even face charges for impersonating someone, or for trespassing or whatever. I bet the police will gobble it up.’

  Alkmene, knowing of Jake’s bad relationship with the police force, winced.

  But Jake said, ‘Lady Alkmene here is really related to the late Lord Winters’ late wife. She has every right to stay with her family until the funeral. You cannot make her leave.’

  The man laughed softly. ‘But what about you? Acting like a servant… Don’t you feel despicable? You vultures from the press would do anything for a story.’

  Alkmene squinted to see him better. Then something clicked. ‘You are the man we saw at the Grange. The gardener or architect, or whatever it is exactly. You worked for Lord Winters before he died. You are Anne’s…friend.’

  ‘Yes, and I want to protect her interests. I don’t want a nosy newspaper man dragging her family name through the dirt. You leave today, or I will make you sorry you stayed.’

  ‘Look,’ Jake said. ‘Who will believe you? Lord Winters, I mean, the current one, Anne’s brother, doesn’t want to hear the time of day from you. He will shoo you away the minute you show your face on his premises. So how will you tell him who we really are?’

  The young man’s face turned red, and his hands grabbed at his sides as if he was already preparing to drag Jake from his chair and acquaint him with his direct left.

  Alkmene said hurriedly, ‘Besides, we are here for a very good reason. If you really care for Anne, you will not interfere with our mission.’

  The man threw her a suspicious look. ‘Why not?’ he asked.

  Jake signalled her not to, but Alkmene said, ‘If you pull up a chair and sit with us for a moment, I will explain everything.’

  The young man turned away to fetch a chair.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ Jake whispered to Alkmene. ‘You can’t tell him about…’

  The young man planted the chair beside the table and sat on it, straight up, his eyes on Alkmene with a cynical glow. ‘So?’ he demanded.

  Alkmene smiled. ‘I am Lady Alkmene Callender, niece of the late Lady Winters, who died in India. She did not die of an illness or an accident, but she was murdered. Strangled with her own shawl.’

  The young man winced, holding her gaze with sincere interest in her story.

  Alkmene continued, ‘At the time it was treated as a break-in gone wrong and no killer was ever apprehended. I, however, have access to letters the late Lady Winters wrote to my mother, her half-sister. In those letters she clearly expresses concern that someone was after her to kill her. I am certain her death was not the act of a cornered burglar but a coldly prepared murder, by someone she knew. At the time Anne was alone in the house, being a sick young girl. I think she might know something about the murder, without realizing it, something that makes her dangerous to the killer. People have tried to make her look impressionable and foolish, on purpose, to discredit her statements.’

  The young man pursed his lips as if he was acquainted with this.

  Alkmene said in an urgent tone, ‘I want to protect Anne. Save her life by finding out what really happened back then in India. I owe that also to my aunt and to my late mother who loved her sister.’

  The young man looked her over as if he was not quite sure what to make of her interest in the case. ‘I see,’ he said curtly.

  Alkmene could not deduce whether he believed her or not, so she just continued, ‘The letters that my murdered aunt wrote to my mother only recently came into my hands. I used the death of Lord Winters as an excuse to come here and befriend Anne. I realize it might look odd to you but I really have her best interests at heart. My friend, Mr Dubois here, is helping me find information about what happened back then. It is some time ago so we do need to dig deep. We need a little time for it and we do not want you betraying our identity or purpose before we are done.’

  She gave him a tight look. ‘Anne said you were close friends until your friendship was ruined by your dismissal. If you care for her at all, you will let us do this. It could rid her life of a dark shadow hanging over it.’

  The man sighed. ‘I know her mother’s death is a sore spot. She never talked much about it, you know, but you can see in her face she is not happy. I tried to persuade her to get away from her father and that overbearing brother of hers, the wife always hovering over her, treating her like she is ill. But she said she could not. She has no money and no connections. I suppose life would be tough when you have always been sheltered and then you have to make it on your own all of a sudden. But Anne has stamina; she can do it. However, she let me be fired and she just fell back into the family fold. I don’t want nothing to do with a woman who is weak like that.’

  Alkmene snorted. ‘You talk one moment about her like she deserves care, the next you push her away and blame her. I can’t call that friendship, let alone something more. Make up your mind how you feel about her and then come back into her life. She does not need people making it even harder for her than it already is.’

  The young man’s face was red again. He spluttered, ‘Like you are anything to her. You just popped up.’

  Alkmene was not perturbed. ‘Just ask yourself if you ever cared for her or just for her connections and her money.’

  ‘Money?’ the young man cried in anger. ‘She has nothing. Her brother Albert won’t let her have a penny to spend. He’s monitoring her all the time. Not to mention that sister-in-law. Always telling her to rest more, have some calming draught to sleep. I think this Lady Winters is herself addicted to laudanum and all that stuff that keeps you calm. She looks at times like she could just go over the edge.’

  Alkmene could hardly deny this and waited to see what else of interest he might share.

  ‘When you worked there,’ Jake asked, ‘did you notice anything strange? Like people were not seeing eye to eye? Tension? Conflict?’

  The young man laughed. ‘Notice it? It was so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. There was always somebody yelling at somebody, somebody storming out, slamming the door. Lord Winters, who is dead now, kept them all on a tight leash, controlling the money and letting them beg for it whenever they wanted anything. He enjoyed making them feel dependent on him.’

  Alkmene sat up. That had to create hatred in all of them – excellent motives for murder.

  The young man continued, leaning forward eagerly, ‘He was the sort of man who enjoyed making people grovel. He would get angry with a servant over nothing and let them beg to keep their job. Then all of a sudden he was generous again, giving them extra money so they would stay employed. He also came after me once for something wrong with the roses or the wall near it and he yelled and screamed. For Anne’s sake I said nothing in return, let him accuse me even though it was unjust. I wanted to stay there to see her.’

  A bitter look passed over his features. ‘I believed she would see my point and leave with me. But she is dependent on them as well. Their money and their approval.’

  ‘She is just young and insecure,’ Alkmene said. ‘And your claims are not helping any. Why did you have to be so cruel to her when she came to the Grange to see you? Why did you act like you hardly knew her and never wanted to see her again?’

  He laughed. ‘What future do we have together? I believed that if her father stopped interfering, we could be together. But her brother is still there – and his obnoxious wife. They will never let her go. They have no children of their own and they treat her like their child. And she is too weak to walk away from them.’

  ‘She does not trust you,’ Jake said, ‘
and she is probably right in that. You would not be able to support her the way she needs support right now.’

  The young man jumped to his feet, his knees knocking into the table. ‘I do not need to sit here and be insulted.’

  Alkmene halted him with a hand gesture. ‘Anne seems to care for you. If you care for her, you will give her time to get over her father’s death and decide if she wants to move to the city and try for a different life. You cannot force her when she is not ready. You would only make each other unhappy.’

  The young man’s expression changed from angry to sad. ‘Perhaps she will never be happy again. She is always talking about India, the animals there and her mother. She wants to go back to that, but she can’t any more. Never again.’ He shook his head and then walked away slowly, his shoulders tight.

  Jake whistled softly. ‘He believed that if her father was dead, they could be together. He just handed us his motive for the murder.’

  ‘Maybe, but I do not think he really believed the brother and his wife would just let Anne go. Don’t forget that he worked there and he had seen how the household functioned. He knew better than any outsider ever could that Anne was wrapped up in so many ties and obligations, foremost connected with the past. He also knew Anne had no money of her own. Her father’s death would not change that. I don’t see how he would have gained much by it. Besides, how could he have gotten into the house in the dead of night? The front door was locked. Only the family members and the regular staff were inside.’

  ‘A side door might have been open. The conservatory door?’

  Alkmene took a deep breath. ‘Look, aside from his possible involvement, he knows who we are. I mean, he knows who you are and why I brought you. If he does share it, we could be sent off.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that.’

  Alkmene tilted her head. ‘What do you mean?’

  Jake looked around him, then leaned over the table. He said softly, ‘If he tells and somebody at the house finds out, spreads the word, we are in danger not of being sent off, but getting bumped off. Remember this. In India someone killed your aunt. It might have been for the stones, or for a more personal motive, but either way, it was no intruder from the outside. It was somebody of her own family. Her own husband or her own son might have cold-bloodedly pulled that scarf around her neck, choking the life out of her.’