All they had to do now was find out if Coates was there back in June and the police would do the rest.
She looked at Reggie. He seemed oblivious to the admission he’d just made.
If she and Harry were right – it was an admission not just of insurance fraud.
But of murder.
Before she could speak to Harry, she heard the sound of the gong from the hallway: Benton’s announcement that dinner was ready.
“Shall we go in?” said Lavinia, and Kat saw her take Claudia’s arm. “Let us attempt to forget the dreadful events of last night and at least have one convivial normal evening, hmm?”
“I do hope so, Lavinia,” said Claudia, and Kat followed them and the other guests as they walked towards the dining room.
“I meant to thank you for your kind words in the visitors’ book, Claudia,” said Lavinia. Then she turned to Kat and nodded towards the great leather-bound book that sat on a sideboard. “Do sign it too, won’t you, my dear? A memento for us all of your first – and also unusual – visit to Mydworth Manor.”
“Of course,” said Kat, and she stepped aside from the group, walked over to the book and raised its heavy cover.
She leafed through the pages, recognising some of the names from previous visits: actors, writers, even minor royalty.
God, Lavinia certainly has held some star-studded weekend parties, she thought.
Finally – she reached the date for this weekend and read through the entries. Some – just one or two lines – others, more extensive.
Claudia’s lines – the latter. A paragraph of lavish thanks, expressing a fervent hope that Lavinia would “never, ever blame herself for what had happened”.
A touching personal message, thought Kat.
But then – before she could reach for the pen that sat in an inkstand next to the book – she stopped dead, looking at…
The signature underneath the entry.
A single word: Claudia.
Written in a flowing, confident hand.
The C of Claudia with a distinctive curl to it.
The same flourish that she had seen on the front of the letter to Coates.
And beneath the name Claudia, the legend Tamworth Hall, Sutton Combe, Salisbury.
Salisbury.
The same as the postmark on the letter to Coates.
The envelope – the letter to Coates – had been written by Claudia!
No wonder Reggie was relaxed about mentioning The Negresco.
It meant absolutely nothing to him.
But Kat could guess that it meant plenty to Claudia. Somehow she and Coates had been together in the South of France.
Which meant – it was Claudia, not Reggie, behind the whole thing.
The robbery, the jewels.
And the missing tiaras? Well – maybe they weren’t missing after all?
Maybe all along, Claudia still had them.
But there was only one way to prove it – by finding the jewels.
And only one opportunity to do so – now.
Kat stepped back from the address book and looked around. The reception room was empty. The guests had all gone through to dinner. Apart from her.
She tiptoed across the room, until she could just see through into the dining room. People were taking their seats. Footmen and maids were getting ready to serve the first course.
She saw Harry at the far end of the table, next to Reggie and Claudia: some instinct made him look up. She held up two fingers – and mouthed: “two minutes.”
He looked confused – but nodded.
Then she slipped out of the room.
And headed upstairs to Lady Tamworth’s dressing room.
17. Getaway
Kat opened the door to Lord and Lady Tamworth’s bedroom, slipped inside, and quickly shut the door behind her.
She looked around: it was clear Reggie hadn’t packed yet. Ten minutes ago, she would have wanted to start her search here, in this room.
But it wasn’t Reggie’s bags that interested her now.
She pushed open the door into the dressing room. There in a line – she saw Claudia’s bags and trunks.
One or two stood open, with lids folded back. Others were shut, straps and belts in place.
Probably locked.
She went to the open bags first – and started to unpack them.
She didn’t have much time.
*
Harry sipped his Consommé Marsala – not badly done, considering it was prepared by a grumpy Scottish chef – and listened politely as the elderly artist opposite explained “the trouble with surrealism” to the whole gathering.
He looked down the table at Lavinia. She sat apparently engrossed, nodding and shaking her head at the appropriate moments.
The trouble with the English, he thought, is that we’re all too damned polite to interrupt.
He knew that Kat certainly wouldn’t have put up with this dull diatribe – she would have either loudly changed the subject or challenged the opinion.
If nothing else, to simply liven up the conversation.
“Where is Lady Mortimer?” said Claudia, next to him.
Woman must be a mind-reader, thought Harry.
“I’ve no idea,” he said.
“She has been gone rather a long time.”
“Hmm, she has, hasn’t she?” said Harry.
“Do you know where she went?”
Harry shrugged: “Up to our room, I imagine. I’m sure she’ll be down shortly.”
Two minutes, she had signalled. But two minutes to do what?
Harry didn’t have a clue.
“I wonder if she’s all right? She might have been taken ill, Harry.”
“Hmm, now you mention it, it is rather odd.”
He saw Claudia place her napkin on the table and slide her chair back.
“I’ll just go and check,” she said, smiling.
Harry nodded. “Thank you, Claudia. You’re too kind.”
He watched her go, thinking: Something’s not right here. Best to be alert.
Claudia seemed worried.
But not about his Kat.
*
Kat emptied the last of the bags on the floor and sat back frustrated.
Nothing!
Three cases and three smaller bags – and not a trace of the jewels.
It didn’t make any sense. She started to doubt her theory, despite the evidence that had been building.
No sense at all. Unless maybe Reggie was in on the whole scam too – and the jewels were hidden somewhere in his bags.
But she didn’t believe that. Everything now pointed to Claudia acting alone – or rather – with Coates.
The two of them having some history together, and meeting up just months ago on the Riviera to plan this little heist.
That would explain how Coates knew where the jewels were hidden. The plan perhaps – he’d get half, she’d keep the other half, Reggie would get the insurance.
No losers in that little operation. Perfect.
Something had clearly gone wrong, but right now she couldn’t quite figure out what. More important – she had to find the jewels before Claudia got suspicious.
She looked at the bags again.
What if the jewels were hidden in some kind of secret compartment? If so – it would most likely be in a new case, a specially constructed case.
She picked out the newest: shiny, white leather. Expensive looking. She lifted it up.
Heavy. In fact – heavier than she’d expected. Heavier than it should be?
But how to open up the sides?
She reached into the pile of clothes and pulled out a make-up case, opened it, tipped the contents onto the carpet.
Yes – a nail file – a sharp one at that.
If this was an error, Kat knew she would have some serious explaining to do.
She flipped the case upside down, ran the blade of the file around the interior. Silk, bonded to some kind of board. She tugged
at the board until it came away.
Inside she could see another layer – but this was held in place by clips in the corners. Placing the blade under each clip, she levered until all the clips were open.
Then she lifted the layer – a thin metal sheet – and, as it came up and fell to one side, she saw… the jewels.
The missing jewels.
Tiaras, necklaces, bracelets, pressed tight in velvet recesses, sparkling and twinkling in the last rays of light from the setting sun through the window.
A stunning fortune. Ready to be secreted out of the house.
“Found what you’re looking for?” came a woman’s voice from behind her.
Kat knew it was Claudia.
“Not quite everything,” said Kat without moving, her heart lurching. “I was expecting to see a gun, too.”
“This one?” said Claudia.
Kat turned slowly, and stood up – to see Claudia at the dressing room door, a small single-shot pistol in her hand, pointing right at her.
“Right. Yup, that’s the one,” said Kat, with a bit of grin. Then turning serious. “The one you used to kill Coates.”
“Oh. You worked that out, hmm?”
“I counted seven shots. You fired the first. Reggie just shot into the night. But one thing I don’t get. Why kill Coates?”
“Silly boy,” said Claudia. “He thought we were going to run away together.”
“Oh yeah? Actually, I don’t think you’re quite right about that,” said Kat. “Turns out he only booked a single ticket to Nice.”
“Really?” said Claudia, picking up one of the smaller bags and throwing it over to Kat. “Well, what does it matter now? Put the jewels in there.”
Kat picked up the pieces and dropped them into the bag, her eyes never leaving the outstretched pistol.
“You must realise – you won’t get away with this,” said Kat, handing over the bag.
“You can’t stop me,” said Claudia.
“Can’t I? My guess: I don’t think you’ll shoot.”
“Try me. Turn around and face the window.”
Kat took a deep breath and turned, hoping, praying she was right.
She won’t shoot? It’ll be too loud, people will—
Or would she?
Kat felt a massive blow to her head, fell forward against the pile of clothes, and everything went black.
*
Harry pushed back his chair and stood up. Two minutes? Kat had been gone too long.
Something definitely was up. He headed for the door into the reception room.
“Harry?” said Lavinia, as he passed. Silence now at the table, his hurried exit killing the conversation.
Into the hallway now, and as he passed the corridor that led to the servants’ quarters, he spotted someone running, heading towards the servants’ entrance at the side of the house.
Lady Tamworth and she was running full-out.
What the hell was going on? Had something happened to Kat?
He turned and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, faster, faster, calling as he ran: “Kat! Kat!”
From upstairs not a sound.
He ran down the corridor into their bedroom – empty.
Then he heard the muffled slam of a window opening and a smash of glass. The sound – coming from another bedroom.
Out onto the landing now, running again, this time towards Reggie and Claudia’s room – the main door wide open, but the door to the dressing room shut.
“Kat! Kat!”
“Harry!” came Kat’s voice from inside the room.
Harry turned the handle, but the door was locked. He pushed hard. Hurled himself at the thing, but only bounced off, his shoulder in agony.
Then he remembered – Reggie’s revolver.
He ran to the bedside cupboard, pulled out the drawer, grabbed the gun, turned to the door again.
“Kat! Get away from the door. Now. Get away!”
Then he pointed the gun at the lock and fired; the sound enormous in the room, enough to make his ears hiss; the smoky gunpowder smell so familiar.
He saw the lock had smashed – pushed against the door and, as it swung open, he looked around, desperately seeking Kat. But the room was empty!
“Kat! – what the hell?”
“Here! Out here!” came Kat’s voice from the open window.
Harry ran over, stuck his head out – to see Kat climbing down the ivy, nearly at the bottom.
“What on earth are you doing?” he said to the top of her head.
“It was Claudia all along, not Reggie!” said Kat, not stopping.
Then he heard the sound of a car starting up – and he looked across to see the Tamworths’ Bentley swing around the side of the house, the tail sliding on the gravel, then straightening up, heading past the house on its way to the drive and at the wheel…
Lady Tamworth herself.
Below, he saw Kat leap the last few feet from the ivy, land on the grass, roll over, then pick herself up and start to run – towards the Bentley, which even now was picking up speed.
And suddenly everything slotted into place, the tiny parts of the whole puzzle assembling, and he realised what Kat was about to do.
So dangerous.
But there was no time to stop her, only time to shout once more.
“Kat! Don’t—”
And then, as he was dimly aware of others emerging from the house, shouting, pointing, the Bentley flashed past and he saw Kat – God! – take a great leap onto the car’s running board, landing right next to the driver, actually causing the car to lurch to one side, then straighten up as Claudia grasped the wheel, trying to fend off his wife.
His amazing, fearless, beautiful wife.
But to no avail, as he saw Kat pull back her right arm and slam her fist square into Lady Tamworth’s face. A fearsome upper-cut the like of which he’d rarely seen even in the most brutal of Army boxing bouts.
Kat’s follow-through took her almost beyond Claudia and flying into the passenger seat.
The Bentley swung around, gravel spraying – Claudia’s head lolling back against the plush leather, the tail of the great car still making a tortured arc until it smashed hard into the fountain with an awful crunch, and came to a halt in a cloud of steam and smoke.
Harry watched, open-mouthed, barely believing what he’d just seen. Slowly becoming aware of Lavinia, Benton and Reggie now running across the gravel to the car.
And Kat raising herself up, standing tall on the running board, then stepping off and brushing herself down.
As if nothing remarkable had happened at all.
He watched as she walked gingerly back towards the house. Behind her, he could see everyone gathering around the car, dragging the stunned Claudia to her feet.
Kat stood below the window, rubbing her right hand, looking up at him.
“That there – you know, the leap, the right hook – was that entirely necessary, Kat, dear?” he said. “Seems – I don’t know – rather risky?”
“That woman,” she said, pointing back towards the Bentley, “hit me. Back of my head. Knocked me out!”
“Ah,” Harry said, grinning, “then you had ample reason. No further questions!”
Finally, Kat smiled back. “Nobody hits me and gets away with it.”
“I can see that.”
He stared at her.
“What are you doing up there anyway, in the bedroom?” she said.
“Right now? I’m admiring you.”
“You can do that later. Right now, I need you to come down here and look after me. You know – give me a hug and a kiss, that sort of thing. Might even need a bandage!”
“On my way,” said Harry, turning from the window and thinking, If I’d known marriage to Kat was going to be like this, I’d have done it a damn sight sooner.
18. Drinks on the Terrace
Kat leaned back on the cushions of the steamer chair and raised her Martini.
“Chin-chin,�
�� she said, looking at Harry who lay on his chair next to hers, sleeves rolled up, shirt open, panama tilted back on his head.
“Cheers,” said Harry, leaning across to clink glasses. She watched him take a sip. “Bliss.”
“You mean – this?” she said, nodding to the garden of the Dower House, the lawn soft and lush, the shrubs still in flower, the sun setting through apple and cherry trees, “or the Martini?”
“Both,” said Harry. “Been waiting for exactly this moment for weeks.”
“Me too,” she said. She popped the olive from her cocktail in her mouth. “Better a couple of days late – than never.”
“True,” said Harry. “And there were a couple of moments this weekend when I thought you’d gone perhaps a tad too far.”
She laughed. “Life would be so tedious if we never went too far, Harry.”
“Well, yes. But that leap onto the car? And then the right hook? Ouch.”
“That bang on my head? Ouch.”
“Knocked any sense into you?”
“Doubt it.”
“Good,” he said, leaning over and resting his hand on her arm. “Wouldn’t want you changing a thing.”
“Don’t intend to,” she said, smiling.
She watched him take another sip of his Martini.
“Any news of Reggie and Claudia?”
“They’re both being held in Chichester. Police have charged Claudia with murder.”
“What about Reggie?”
“Obstructing justice.”
“So, he really didn’t have anything to do with it?” she said.
“Says when he saw that she’d shot Coates – he did what any decent husband would do. Took the blame.”
“And he never suspected a thing? Amazing.”
“Not the sharpest knife in the box, our Reggie. Seems he’s rather neglected Claudia this last year or so. Abandoned her to go gambling in Nice – and she struck up a relationship with Coates there.”
“Where he was chauffeur to some other guests?”
Harry nodded.
“Then, let me guess,” said Kat, “soon as they got the invite to the State Dinner she saw the chance, made the plan, fired up Coates, let him do the dirty work.”
“Then shot him when the job was done.”
“Very nasty.”
“Yes. ’Fraid she’ll swing for it,” said Harry.
Mydworth Mysteries - A Shot in the Dark (A Cosy Historical Mystery Series Book 1) Page 11
