‘I haven’t had a chance to speak to Repton,’ she said. ‘Have you had the DNA results?’
‘Any time now.’
Laura heard the race being announced, Vince didn’t have a runner but she was reminded of his horse. ‘Have you spoken to Pom about it?’ she asked.
Ned looked disconsolate.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Pom and I aren’t seeing each other any more.’ He stacked the coffee cups on a tray.
‘Why, what’s happened?’
Ned turned away from Laura and picked up the tray. ‘It was when I told her I was going to the police about the stone eagles. Repton wanted to buy them back but they’ve got a huge price tag on them. Anyway I told Pom that Repton had been so happy when I’d told him I knew where they were.’ Ned put the tray back down. ‘He and his wife Matilda had bought them together from a house sale in Halifax shortly after they were married. I said to Pom, I know it’s nothing to me, but Repton and Matilda were obviously very much in love.’
‘Why should that have anything to do with you and Pom?’
Outside, a cheer rose up.
‘I don’t know. She started to cry and said she couldn’t see me anymore.’
People were coming back in.
‘I’ll have to go, they’ll be wanting tea any minute,’ Ned said.
‘We’ll speak again soon, I’m sure.’ Laura kept her eye on him, as he hurried out with the tray, wishing she’d had time to ask him more.
She watched the next two races with the silkworm farmer. He didn’t really understand the finer points of racing and kept asking questions. Obviously he was most interested in the jockey’s attire.
‘I am hearing that in cold weather they wear ladies stockings underneath their jodhpurs,’ he said, as they walked down to the paddock to look at Golden Pom-Poms where Vince was giving the jockey some last minute advice. The young man nodded his head in earnest, the gold bobble on his blue silk helmet – Vince liked continuity of marketing – bobbing up and down.
‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ the trainer said. ‘Just do what we discussed last night.’ The trainer launched the jockey up into the saddle. ‘Now tuck your shirt in laddie. Look smart!’
‘And these tops they are wearing, they are silks?’ the Frenchman continued, as he and Laura walked back up to the box. Laura tried to concentrate on answering him but her mind was elsewhere. So much had happened in such a short space of time. Her brain was one swirling mass of Higgs boson microparticle possibilities; Canon Frank, Lance and Cheryl, Liam, Tam and Pom, Ned Stocking… Stockings… Silks? ‘Silks?’ she said, as Victoria joined them. ‘They’re barristers.’
‘So the jockeys are all coming from the legal profession?’ The Frenchman took off his top hat and scratched his head. ‘This is a custom of Ascot I have not heard before.’
‘Granny, are you filling Monsieur Garel’s head with nonsense?’
His head? My head? Laura wondered if she had any aspirin in her bag.
Victoria turned to the Frenchman. ‘You’ll have to excuse her; she’s had a tiring couple of days. Now come and watch the race, Golden Pom-Poms is down at the start.’
The rest of the afternoon became something of a blur. The heady smell of horse sweat in the winner’s enclosure as Vince threw the Foundation Rocks rug on Golden Pom- Poms. The horse stamping its hooves and shaking its head as the stable girl held onto the reins. The crowds jostling around them as Vince was interviewed by the press and made jokes about Golden Pom-Poms’ vital statistics and the likelihood of the filly’s stable companion, Underwired, being a contender for the St Leger.
Before she knew it, Charlie was opening the car door for her and she sat down wearily next to Victoria.
‘That was fun, wasn’t it Granny?’ she said. ‘Frankly, I didn’t think Golden Pom-Poms stood a chance.’
‘Frankly, my love, you should have more confidence in your husband’s choice of racehorses,’ Vince called out. ‘I hope you put some money on Charlie?’
‘Certainly did Mr Outhwaite.’ The chauffeur flicked the indicator and they headed back to London.
Laura turned to Victoria. ‘So how did the Canon know where to find Liam?’
‘Goodness, Granny how your mind does dart about, but honestly I don’t know. We were just so relieved and the Canon seemed so sure we were on the right track and there was not a moment to lose.’
‘So what did Liam say when he saw the Canon?’
‘I wasn’t there. Vince told me to go and sit outside in the car.’ Victoria tapped Vince on the shoulder. ‘Didn’t you darling?’
‘Back on that are we?’
‘So what did you manage to get out of him?’ Laura asked.
‘Half the little creep’s life story and a bit more once we’d took the sponge out.’
‘Taken darling,’ Victoria corrected. Vince’s accent still tended to broaden when he was excited.
‘Told us how you’d barged in on ’em in t’chapel. He’d had this idea of marrying illegal immigrants while he’d been studying psychology at Lampeter University. Hence his ready supply of young Welsh girls. They were all too willing to do it for the cash to help pay their tuition fees and they’d be divorced by the time they’d graduated. Tidy plan though I say it myself.’ Vince chuckled.
Laura looked out of the window as the car came to a halt in traffic outside the Brompton Oratory. ‘But how did Liam know where to get the men from?’ she asked.
‘Failed his first year exams and got a job in London with a property developer. Came across some Russians needing residency,’ Vince said. ‘Started small. Got himself a bent vicar and he’s thinking this is a piece of…’
‘Vince!’
‘By that time he’s living in a flat in Peckham. That’s when the jammy tyke realised how easy it was to sub-rent. And then the Afghans started to arrive and after that it snowballed. But then some churchwarden starts to smell a rat. Needed new premises. Needs a new vicar. That’s where Mount Cod comes in. So much handier for the Welsh connection.’
‘I don’t suppose you remember much of the evening do you Granny?’
Laura raised her sunglasses. ‘I must admit it’s hazy.’ She felt her eye. ‘But perhaps Matilda found out about what Cheryl’s son was up to and that’s why they had to get rid of her.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ Vince said sternly. ‘Leave it to Inspector Sandfield.’
Laura sat in silence.
‘I think for once, Vince is right,’ Victoria said. ‘Anyway, when I spoke to Repton earlier, he said the Inspector had had a call from the police in Ludlow. Repton’s Land Rover was spotted in a farmyard nearby. Cheryl and Lance have been found hiding in a grain silo and they’ve taken the Canon in for questioning.’
Chapter thirty-two
‘Being abducted and getting engaged to a Libyan gentleman,’ Venetia said. ‘And then Ascot, oh Laura, you have all the fun. The only thing that’s happened to me is that I’ve managed to restyle my raincoat into a miniskirt. I got the idea from the sewing programme on BBC 2.’
‘When did you last wear a miniskirt, Venetia dear?’
‘Perhaps I could turn it into a mac for Parker?’
Laura looked at the pug as he lay curled up beside her on the sofa. He had been in the darkest of moods since she collected him from Mount Cod. Having greeted her with his usual enthusiasm he had quickly trotted off to join Sybil Thorndike in her basket.
‘He’s not speaking to me since I removed him from his love nest,’ she said.
The dogs were not the only ones who were inseparable. Sir Repton was almost totally distracted by Gladys Freemantle and seemed not to fully comprehend the magnitude of Laura’s ordeal. Gladys was now ensconced as acting cook and companion. Whether the relationship had developed further was something that Laura and Venetia had speculated on and concluded that it was not in anybody’s interest to dwell on the matter. But there was something that Laura found just a tiny bit irksome about the situation, so she
hastily turned her mind to other matters, despite Vince’s warning. But it was hard work keeping Venetia up to speed on the developments at Mount Cod and occasionally she even felt that perhaps the bump to her head she had received had had a lasting effect on her own powers of concentration.
‘As I see it,’ she said. ‘It could still be either Tam or Cheryl and Lance who killed Matilda Willowby. But then again I haven’t entirely discounted Canon Frank Holliday. I must find out what Inspector Sandfield’s charged them with. Of course he wouldn’t have a clue that they could be murderers as well.’
Laura could still feel her black eye throbbing and she rested her head on the back of the sofa. ‘Of course it could have been Ned Stocking… bumping off his father’s wife… revenge is a prime motivator when it comes to murder, but I’m not so keen on that idea.’
‘Who are all these people? I thought you said it was Repton? I’ve always thought there was something rum about my cousin.’
‘You’re right, he really should remain in the picture.’
‘There was a case on Crimestoppers only the other night about a man who murdered his wife. But then it turned out she had cancer and she’d asked him to do it. Have you thought about that? Matilda was ill after all.’ Venetia made a grab for the TV remote but Laura got there first and put it out of harm’s way in a drawer of her desk.
‘Matilda had diabetes. She was hardly in a terminal condition. Oh dear, I’m feeling very muddle headed again. No, It’s got to be Tam; frightening her to death because Matilda found out something about State of the Union.’
‘State of who?’
‘The wedding business. Do try to keep up Venetia.’
‘I can’t. I can feel withdrawal symptoms coming on. What time is it? Couldn’t we just have the TV on in the background. I’m sure I could multitask and listen to you at the same time.’ Venetia made a lurch for the drawer. ‘Who did you say the other suspect was? I’d say it was a member of the family, it generally is. Repton, he’s your man.’
Laura relented and gave her the remote.
Venetia flicked the TV on. Briefly they saw horses galloping down to the finishing line before Venetia changed channels and settled contentedly in front of Come Dine With Me.
The few frames of racing were enough to remind Laura of Ned Stocking again.
‘I must get hold of him,’ she said. ‘What was it that had kyboshed his romance with Pom so effectively?’
‘Crab pancakes?’
‘His cooking?’
‘But one of them is a vegetarian. Look. How idiotic of her,’ Venetia pointed at the screen.
Laura tried to take an interest. The contestants were looking round their hostess’ bedroom as she prepared the main course.
‘How untidy young people are,’ Venetia commented. ‘Just like Angel. I never could get that slut to keep her bedroom tidy. She’s a most unhygienic girl. I remember once I found a fish finger under her pillow. She’ll be out soon I shouldn’t wonder. Back on the streets collecting donkeys again. That girl really is a case.’
Case? Laura weighed up her options and found she didn’t have any. She heard the telephone ring and got up to answer it.
‘Ladyship?’
‘Hello Mimi. How are you?’
‘I downstairs in reception. There is man here wanting see you. He saying he is your fiancé but he no Brig time coming back, I sorry to say.’
‘Mrs Boxford Akadigbo!’ Andwele clasped Laura to his chest. ‘Greetings from Brixton, from where I have come to be with my wife. All our friends are sending greetings, but they are also sad since Liam has disappeared with the wedding certificates.’
Laura extricated herself from his embrace. ‘Oh dear.’
‘But Ladyship…’
‘Not to worry Mimi, I’ll take Mr Akadigbo into the lounge. Could you by any chance have a cup of tea sent in for us?’
Laura took Andwele by the hand and steered him away from the reception desk.
‘I believe Canon Frank Holliday is living in this vicinity, and what a very lovely vicinity it is,’ Andwele said, as Laura sat him in a chair in the far corner of the room. ‘I think maybe we could make him a visit so that he can conduct the ceremony for us as you had suggested?’
Laura followed his gaze as he looked around. Topsy Reynolds had made a rare foray downstairs and was sleeping in a chair beside the fireplace. Otherwise the room was empty.
‘Veery nice, veery nice.’ Andwele nodded appreciatively as he felt the fabric of the chair.
‘Of course I will honour my side of the agreement,’ Laura said. ‘But it will take a little time to organise. In the meantime I’m afraid you cannot stay here, Andwele. Remember our little arrangement was only for the purpose of letting you remain in England.’
‘But we are being evicted from our home in Brixton. I am once again a poor refugee.’ Andwele fell to his knees. ‘I beg you to show mercy upon me.’
‘What about all the others?’
‘They have set up a business in the town of Diss on the Suffolk border. But I am no good at car washing and soon enough they will end up in a detention centre if there is still no sign of Liam.’
Laura heard the clank of china and saw Alfredo making his way over to them, his chef’s hat perched at a jaunty angle on his head, a tray in his hands.
Laura waved and beckoned him over. ‘Hello, Alfredo, this is terribly good of you. Are you very short-staffed in the kitchen?’
‘Faking hell Lady B, it’s always the same,’ he said, putting the tray down at their table. ‘If it was for anyone else but yourself, I’d have refused point blank.’
‘We must have words with Mr. Parrott, this can’t go on.’
‘Holy Zaragosa, don’t get me started on Senor Parrott. I mean I’m only half way through preparing onions for the coq au vin when he comes in and says I can’t have any wine. Says I use too much alcohol and you’ll all get gout and give it to him and then we’ll all get sepsis and die in agony. Man’s a faking lunatic.’ The chef took a step back and, seemingly for the first time, noticed Andwele, still on his knees at her side.
‘This is Andwele Akadigbo.’ Laura introduced them. She could see the look of consternation on the chef’s face. Explaining the situation would have meant the tea going cold, but then an idea came to her.
‘I wonder,’ she said. ‘Could Mr. Akadigbo and I possibly have a word with you in private in the kitchen. Shall we say in about half an hour?’
Andwele was most impressed by the kitchens at Wellworth Lawns. He admired the stainless steel work surfaces and looked in awe as Alfredo opened the cold meat store to get out the chickens.
‘This is a veery fine bird,’ he said, patting a fattened carcass that Alfredo held out for him. ‘Why you no let me make the top class tagine for the supper with my wife?’
‘Wife?’ Alfredo frowned.
Laura sidestepped the issue. ‘Do you enjoy cooking Andwele?’
‘Many times I am complimented on the fine taste of my couscous.’
‘Alfredo, you did say you were short-staffed.’
‘Holy Santander Ferries, I’m run off my feet Lady B, can’t you see?’ Alfredo chose a meat cleaver and jointed a bird with lightening dexterity.
‘How would you like it if Andwele here was to join you? You see I am indebted to him and he is at present in need of employment.’
Alfredo looked at Andwele and handed him the knife. ‘Show us what you’re made of then.’
Andwele grinned. He put the chicken down and sliced it clean in half.
Alfredo nodded appreciatively and turned to Laura. ‘When can he start?’
Alfredo said Andwele could stay with him for the time being in the staff cottage in Woldham.
‘What about Mr. Parrott?’ Laura asked.
‘Fak, as long as Andy here washes his hands and keeps his whites clean, old Parrott will be happy. I swear that man’s got OCD. Where he doesn’t keep a wet wipe is nobody’s business.’
Laura told Alfredo she wou
ld have a word with Vince about the manager and left the two men in the kitchen.
It had been time consuming but she felt she had contained the situation. She would have to stand by her word to Andwele or there would be a problem with his wages. The sooner she got hold of the Canon the better.
Laura took Parker upstairs for his dinner. As she was opening a can of dog food for him the telephone rang. It was Sir Repton.
‘My dear Laura,’ he said. ‘Such news I have. The DNA test has come back and now I have a son and heir!’
‘I’m very pleased for you. You must give me his phone number so that I can congratulate him.’
‘Indeed, indeed but I am calling to invite you to a celebration. Ned is coming to stay and I should be most pleased if you and Jervis and Strudel and my dear cousin Venetia would join Gladys and I here for luncheon on the Sunday after next. I’ve decided to forgive Canon Frank, so he will be coming too.’
‘That’s big of you under the circumstances.’
‘He’s too old a friend to desert and the Bishop has secured him bail.’
Laura was bemused by his magnanimity but she returned to feeding Parker, who in his impatience, had taken to turning in ever decreasing circles at her feet, puffing and spraying saliva on her shoes. Then she sat down to ring Ned Stocking.
‘Funny old world isn’t it,’ he said.
‘But you must be thrilled.’
‘I’m afraid the delight has been tainted by something.’
‘Is it Pom?’ Laura asked.
There was a hesitation at the end of the line. ‘I suppose it’s only a matter of time before it come outs,’ Ned said finally. ‘Tam has been taken into custody with Robert Hanley Jones. They’re facing charges of fraud and of course all the weddings have been cancelled.’
Chapter thirty-three
It was too important a conversation not to be shared immediately and while Venetia would have been Laura’s first port of call, she knew that to interrupt her in the middle of her early evening schedule would be a bad idea, so she rang Strudel and Jervis. They invited her to join them for a vodka martini. Putting Parker on his lead she hurried downstairs and strode over to the bungalows.
The Haunting of Mount Cod Page 22
