Diamonds of Death

by Vivian Conroy

  ‘In reality you knew the burglar would stumble onto the dead body and he would be arrested and convicted for your crime. George had supplied you with the perfect pawn for your game. But even so you took another measure. You could set it up so that the burglar would stumble onto the body and you would be there to catch him red-handed. But as the stones were already safely tucked away in your room, you knew that no loot would be found upon him. Now what if the police did find that a bit suspicious and looked closer to find a culprit, an accomplice in the house?’

  Helena held her gaze, her chin up in defiance.

  Alkmene said, ‘You put the letters in my room so I would find them and read them. They would provide a motive for George, for the murder. He had already provided you with the ideal opportunity – yelling in front of witnesses that his father should die. George only meant to make sure everybody knew he had stormed off in anger so he would not be associated with the theft of the stones. Little did he know that the burglar he had hired would find his father dead in his room.

  ‘You conspired to make George look guilty. You fed him wine and port by the bottle, made sure he was drunk and loud and incriminated himself. You played Anne and your husband. You made sure I saw what I was supposed to see. Your husband beating you, Anne being volatile, George being drunk and full of grudges against his father. You made sure I read the letters and drew my own conclusions about my aunt’s sad fate. And you know what? If I had not found out that your name was Pereiro and I had not realized it was about the Cygnus stones all along, you might have gotten away with it all. I never believed George did it, but I would not have been able to prove his innocence. He might have been strung up for your crime. But now you will not get away with it any more. The stones have been found among your possessions. And you will go to prison for them.’

  ‘Never,’ Helena cried and ran from the room. She was gone before anybody could grab her.

  Albert ordered the butler to pursue her, following suit himself.

  Jake put the glass with the lethal dose of sedative on the floor and raced away also.

  Alkmene stayed with Anne, who was still holding the stones in her palm.

  ‘All for this,’ she said incredulously. Her voice was brittle, on the point of breaking. ‘She killed my mother and my father for this?’

  Alkmene nodded. ‘Greed is a terrible thing. You know, Helena made it look like your mother had been losing her mind and she wanted people to think you were unstable. But in reality she was the mad one, the one obsessed with having those diamonds, to make up for her poor childhood and her mother’s abuse of her. For the endless complaints about their poverty and the money they could have had if the Cygnus stones had not been lost to them. Helena believed she should have them because she had been born with the Pereiro name. From the moment she met you all, she hated and despised you because you owned what to her mind should have been hers. And she did everything within her power to get them back.’

  Anne shook her head. She put the stones on Alkmene’s dressing table. They shimmered in the light.

  Anne said, ‘It seems like such a silly reason to me. I can see nothing of beauty in them, just of death.’

  She looked around her at all of the boxes with her mother’s things. Her lips wobbled, and she clenched her hands into fists by her sides. ‘I cannot believe she strangled my mother for those stones and then she lived with us all of these years, knowing what she had done. I hope they catch her and take her away at once. I don’t want to spend another night under the same roof with her. Not even an hour.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The clock on the mantelpiece chimed three times, and Alkmene started awake. It took her a few moments to determine where she was and what she was doing here.

  After the men had overpowered Lady Winters, the woman had been taken away kicking and screaming and about foaming at the mouth. Her husband had accompanied her with a very pale expression. Apparently he was just getting acquainted with the true nature of the woman he had married. He had probably always believed he was the one with the temper, but now he had gotten a taste of hers.

  In the past Albert had never realized how Helena was manipulating him, because he had believed his physical strength ensured he would always be superior to her, determining what she could and could not do. Now he had seen that in reality she had always been in charge. Even their marriage, which had been set up as a deal to his advantage – let her bear the heir, then discard her – had been used by her to her own advantage. She had been with him all that time, thinking of the stones she wanted to feel under her fingertips.

  Alkmene felt relief that the two of them had never had any children, so they would not be part of this. Would never have to learn that their mother had been charged with and convicted of double murder.

  It was bad enough to look at Anne’s narrow face as she slept, curled up on the sofa. The girl now knew her mother and father had both been killed by a heartless person who had shared the table with her and had smiled at her, pretending to want the best for her, all the while conniving to have her accused of madness so she could be locked away and could never convince people that the flash of the golden fabric she had seen that night had been a glimpse of Helena’s golden dress.

  Alkmene perked up at the sound of a car outside. She ran into the hallway and opened the front door. The door of the car opened, and George Winters came out, in a crumpled suit.

  In the light flooding over him from the hallway he looked younger, as if the veneer of bravado had been stripped away. He came up to her and asked in a hoarse whisper, ‘Where is Anne?’

  ‘In there,’ Alkmene gestured. ‘She is asleep but I am sure she will be happy when you are with her when she awakes. It has been quite a shocking night.’

  She let him go in while she waited for Jake, who locked the car and came up to her. He said in a low voice, ‘Lady Winters had come to her senses by the time we arrived at the police station. She is denying it all, so we will have a time delivering proof of it. But together we can do it. Her husband has agreed to cooperate with us. He is with his attorneys now, at their home, to discuss proceedings. The thing is to treat this sensitively so the family name doesn’t get damaged too much. After all, we do have George and Anne to consider.’

  Alkmene touched his arm. ‘What about the liquid?’

  ‘It will be tested. But I have no doubt she tried to make sure you would never talk to anybody about your experiences here. She had first tried to use you by putting you in the blue room, giving the letters to you and all, hoping she could manipulate you into accusing George. I think she reckoned if you accused him it would be taken very seriously. After all, you were a complete stranger to the household, who had come onto the scene after the murder. Your word would have carried a lot of weight in a court case. But when her plan failed, she was done with you. Even began to see you as a threat.’

  ‘Well, I was pretty daring telling her to her face of what I had been thinking and that I’d go to the papers to get some money for my story. It would have been the stupidest thing to do if I had really expected to walk away unscathed. I was worried she’d never buy into me being that dumb. But apparently she was not taking any chances.’

  They walked into the room where Anne slept. George had knelt in front of the sofa and was brushing her hair away from her face with one finger.

  The scene put a lump in Alkmene’s throat.

  George looked up and smiled at them. ‘Thank you for getting me out of the cell.’

  Jake waved a hand in the air. ‘No trouble. You were not the guilty party. You did not deserve to be locked up.’

  George rose and came over to them, saying in an urgent tone, ‘I might not have killed anybody, but I made too many other mistakes. I feel like everybody would have been better off if I were no longer here. Perhaps I should go back to India or another faraway place.’

  ‘No. Anne needs you,’ Alkmene said. ‘Besides, it doesn’t take a lot of courage to run away. It does take
courage to stick around.’

  George sighed. ‘My brother despises me for my weakness.’

  ‘He married a murderer.’ Jake held George’s gaze. ‘He also made a ton of debt.’

  George looked confused. ‘What? Albert?’

  Alkmene said, ‘The papers dug up in the garden were Albert’s. He was so furious that we had found them because he had hidden them there himself. He was desperately trying to cover up his own behaviour. He has just about wasted half of your father’s fortune. You will be needed here more than ever, to undo the damage.’

  George sighed. ‘I am used to rolling out of bed and reaching for the bottle. I do not know if I can face life while being sober.’

  Alkmene smiled at him. ‘Make a list of things you do care for. More than for the bottle.’ She waited a moment. ‘Your sister should be on it. And horses. You love horses. You could consider breeding them and partaking in jumping tournaments. Then alcohol would not just endanger you but them. I don’t think you would ever hurt a horse.’

  George held her gaze. ‘You have me all figured out, huh?’

  Alkmene shrugged. ‘We are family.’

  Now George laughed. For the first time that night he looked relaxed. ‘I am glad we have one member in the family who has common sense. And some belief in me.’

  Alkmene put her hand on his arm. ‘I hope you will come look me up in London, with Anne. I am sure she’d love to see a play, have dinner, do fun things. And maybe you should get to know this architect-gardener of hers. He doesn’t seem like an all-bad guy. Maybe she would be well off if she got engaged to him. You figure it out.’

  George grimaced. ‘I have never been a relationship expert. My parents’ marriage was disastrous because they didn’t understand each other. Each did their own thing, never sticking together. My brother and Helena…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I was entranced by her beauty. I cannot believe she was so dark inside.’

  ‘She showed you the face she wanted you to see.’ Alkmene patted his arm. ‘You need time to get over it. Do it together with Anne. You can really support each other. And tell your brother he cannot manage this place alone. Insist that you are involved. You can use the debts as the perfect reason. Albert will not like it, but in the end he is not a stupid man and is fiercely proud of his inheritance. He will not let this place go to waste.’

  George nodded. ‘I will give it a try. With Helena’s influence removed, Albert might be easier to deal with.’

  He looked over his shoulder at Anne. ‘Will she be all right?’

  ‘If you are honest with her and tell her the truth. People lied to her for too long, about her mother’s death, making her feel there was something bad about it and the bad thing was inside of her too. She must have been afraid at times she was really distorted in her mind. But she is a normal young woman who needs a normal life. Talk to her about all that happened. Read the letters my aunt wrote to my mother. Look through her things together. Remember your mother in a good way. Then try and move on, step by step.’

  George nodded. There was another brief hint of a smile when he said, ‘Thank you.’

  Jake had listened in silence. Now he said, ‘The car is still waiting outside. What do you say, Alkmene? Shall we go back to London? I have seen enough of the hard bed in the servants’ quarters. We could breakfast at some fancy hotel. Your treat of course. After all I saved your life. Again.’

  ‘Again?’ George queried, but Alkmene flicked up a hand. ‘I don’t want to hear one more word about it. You are so right. We need a change of scenery. We will leave right away. I have already packed my bags. You know where they are, Parker.’

  She walked out of the room, gesturing to Jake to follow, then pointed up the stairs. ‘I told you when we started on this I really need someone to fetch and carry for me.’

  Jake huffed. ‘Next time we are going to infiltrate a household, I want to be a lord, or baron, and you can play chambermaid. I think you’d look quite good in that costume. Not that you’d last long of course if you had to do something you know nothing about. I bet you’d be fired within twenty-four hours for breaking the best piece in the house.’

  Alkmene kept pointing up the stairs. ‘The bags, Parker. I will be waiting in the car.’

  Jake shook his head and trotted up the stairs, chuckling. ‘At your service, my lady.’

  If you enjoyed DIAMONDS OF DEATH, turn the page for an exciting extract from the next instalment in the A Lady Alkmene Callender Mystery series:

  DEADLY TREASURES

  Chapter One

  Lady Alkmene Callender had not heard the doorbell ring as she was wondering how on earth a wife managed to knock off three husbands in a row, by poison, without anybody around her asking any questions.

  The story had been provided to her, written in longhand on shabby sheets torn from various notebooks, including the title page torn from a novel, by her friend, reporter Jake Dubois, who had researched it for the upcoming trial and planned on publishing it in the paper he wrote for as soon as his editor agreed to his demands for a raise.

  Jake’s value had gone up – or at least he himself thought it had – since he had cleared a friend of his, a famous cat burglar, of an accusation of murder. Alkmene herself had had a substantial share in the resolution of that case, but she had a deal with Jake to keep her name out of the papers as her poor father, on a botanical quest in India, would surely burst a vessel if he ever found out how she passed the time in his absence.

  At the moment Jake was attending the opening of a new yachting club in Plymouth, having left his notes with her to read through and comment upon. He had mockingly asked her if she couldn’t type out a decent summary for him, implying she couldn’t type.

  Of course she couldn’t, but she would never tell him that. ‘Father doesn’t have a typewriter,’ she had adduced instead. ‘He insists on writing everything in longhand and so far he has never had a complaint from anyone.’

  The door opened, and Brookes, her father’s impeccable butler, appeared on the threshold. ‘Viscount Woolsbury to see you, Lady Alkmene.’

  Alkmene blinked. She had not seen the viscount in years. And why would a man who stuck to protocol under all circumstances call upon her without having announced his visit in advance?

  Had something happened?

  ‘Show him in, Brookes,’ she said, organizing the notes in her lap, her thoughts racing.

  The viscount’s son, Duncan, had been her childhood nemesis. They had been forced to play together, Duncan always throwing sand in her hair or hiding toads in her bed at his father’s mansion in a remote shire where Alkmene had been placed to spend the summer when her father was away.

  Having lost her mother at the age of four, Alkmene had been shipped around from one house of pitying friends to another by a father who had certainly loved her, but loved his botanical adventures even more.

  Not one to be resentful, Alkmene had enjoyed her times in other households where she was spoiled by the servants and readily forgiven for any pranks she pulled by the mistress of the house who did not dare punish such a ‘sweet little thing without a mother’.

  Duncan Woolsbury, however, had had no qualms about pestering her, and she in turn had none about getting even with him for it.

  After they had grown up, she had seen him once or twice at a soirée of mutual friends, where she had concluded he had become a lot more serious and bookish-looking than the boy she remembered from climbing trees and splashing through brooks. Duncan had always wanted to become an explorer and find something spectacular like a new species of bird or a forgotten tribe. But Alkmene recalled having heard more recently that he had become assistant to an expert in archaeology, no longer looking for live cultures, but dead ones, long forgotten.

  And now his father was here to see her, out of the blue. It could hardly be a social call. Where Alkmene had enjoyed a rather close bond with Duncan’s mother and his two younger sisters, she had never had much contact with the viscount. He had been kind to her
but in the way you treat a puppy you take care of for a while. Good care, but in a sort of detached way, because it is not your own dog and you know you will let the little thing go again, after a while.

  Putting Jake Dubois’s stack of notes on the table beside her, she rose to meet the large man with gingerbread hair who barged into the room, to shake her hand. He examined her up and down and boomed with his baritone, ‘Alkmene, you look well, girl, very well. I do apologize for dropping in like this, unannounced, but it is rather an informal affair.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alkmene said as if she had expected no less, gesturing for him to take a seat. To Brookes, who hovered at the door, she said, ‘You may bring us some coffee.’

  Brookes nodded and shut the door with an impeccably soft click.

  Alkmene knew he would stand there for a few seconds listening, anxious to hear what this unexpected visit was all about. So she waited until she was absolutely sure Brookes had walked off to see to the coffee. Cook would have to heat water, so it would take some time for him to return.

  To her visitor she said engagingly, ‘I have not seen you in ages. Then again I have not seen a lot of my old acquaintances of late. I am afraid I get out too little.’

  Her conscience pricked a moment as she had been out and about, to Dartmoor and then again to the Winters estate, with Jake Dubois, for murder investigations. But it would be unwise to mention anything like that to an old friend of her father’s. They were surely corresponding and if the viscount would mention something like Alkmene being involved in anything potentially damaging to reputations, Father would write at once to other friends to have her shipped off to the countryside where she could do no harm.