“Well, that his estate will be distributed according to the intestacy rules. I’m not a hundred percent sure of the details, but the gist is that, after tax, his wife will get the first two hundred and fifty thousand, his children half of the remainder divided between them. The other half of that amount – about three hundred and fifty thousand by my calculations, will be set aside and Elsa will have a life interest in it. Damian and Flora will only get it after her death – and she is hardly any older than them, so it may be a long wait. In other words, taking into account inheritance tax, Damian and Flora will be getting little more than a hundred thousand up front – and the house will go!”
“But that isn’t what Uncle George wanted! Doesn’t his will count for anything?”
“Frankly, no,” said Rupert. “If he had lived and someone had pointed all this out, he could have re-written the will leaving everything to Damian – but that never happened. From what I gather, he didn’t have the kind of mind to grasp the fact that he would have to rewrite his will.”
“Could Elsa refuse her share?”
“She could; but somehow I don’t think she will.”
“Are you going to tell Damian?”
“Well, not tonight – we’ve got a whole lot of film to watch! Saying that, I’d better get back down there; we can talk tomorrow.” He kissed his wife again and left her looking thoughtful and concerned.
The small hours wore away as Damian and Rupert followed Frodo and Sam on the tortuous journey to Mordor. Damian had pulled out the extended version of the final film with something of a flourish, so it was clear that they would not see their beds at all that night. Then, just when the two men were beginning to discuss the possibilities of breakfast, the telephone rang. Rupert paused the film as Damian leapt up to answer it. Even from the couple of words he could hear, Rupert gathered that George was dying. This impression was confirmed when Damian re-entered the room.
“Father is dying. I will take Flora straight to the hospital. They have called Elsa too.”
The house was in a flurry for a while as Flora was roused and dressed herself, and the two siblings departed to attend their father in his last few moments of life. Laura got out of bed to offer any help required, but in default of that returned with an exhausted Rupert to catch an hour or so of sleep before they had to get up. In fact, they were woken by the telephone after less than an hour. Laura ran down the stairs to answer and then returned and started to dress quietly with the intention of leaving Rupert undisturbed. A weary voice, however, questioned her from the bed,
“What’s the matter?”
“That was Damian from the hospital,” said Laura as she pulled on a jumper. “They have left messages at Elsa’s house and on her mobile, but no answer. Damian thought I might go and knock on her door. George is still alive.”
Rupert sat up, suddenly awake. “No! Don’t you go: I’ll walk down there. I chatted to her yesterday, remember?”
“If you like,” said Laura, only mildly taken aback by his vehemence. “I thought you needed to catch up on your sleep.”
“I can do that later,” said Rupert, who was already pulling back on the clothes he had only recently pulled off. “I’ll go and see what’s happened to Elsa.”
When Rupert left Sunley Grange he was greeted by mist and damp. The rains had ceased and the flooding had stopped short of the houses, but everywhere was wet and cold. When he reached the house he had seen Elsa leave the previous day, he gave a long ring on the bell. The frontage was that of a small terraced cottage and the one downstairs window had the curtain pulled firmly across it on the inside. A second ring and a firm bang on the door with his fist elicited no response. He was just wondering whether there was some back entrance when the front door of the adjacent house opened abruptly. The lady at the door – a short, plump figure in a tracksuit – placed a tabby cat on the doorstep and looked at him sharply.
“Bit early, aren’t you?” she said. The cat yawned and stretched and turned back into the house.
“I was trying to wake Elsa,” confessed Rupert. “Her husband, George Reckless, is seriously ill in hospital.”
“Oh, I heard some such thing. Isn’t she answering?”
“No. The curtains are closed so I imagine she is still asleep. You don’t know if she was going anywhere, do you?”
“Well I know she was in last night at about eight o’clock – I heard her banging about whilst I made my cup of tea,” said the woman slightly resentfully.
“I hope she isn’t ill,” said Rupert. “I wonder if anyone has a spare set of keys?”
“As a matter of fact,” came the slightly complacent reply, “I do have some keys myself which Elsa leaves with me in case she loses her own or suchlike – but I don’t usually lend them to strangers!”
“Quite right,” said Rupert, approvingly. “But I don’t suppose that Elsa would mind you taking a look inside.”
The lady seemed to think for a moment and then said, “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, and it’s not like Elsa to go away without telling me.” There was a pause whilst she receded into the depths of her home and then emerged with a small bunch of keys and carefully closed her own front door behind her. She gave Rupert a look which clearly informed him that he was expected to wait outside, and then she let herself into Elsa’s cottage. Rupert, standing obediently a step or two back from the front step, waited seconds before the half-expected shriek reached his ears.
After a chaotic morning Rupert drove his wife to a nearby village for a pub lunch followed by a muddy walk across the fields and up a hill. Damian and Flora were still at the hospital and the police were all over Elsa’s house. The skies had become clearer and the mist was beginning to lift, although it still clung in pockets. As they reached the summit the view below opened out, showing clearly where whole fields were still partly submerged under flood water. Despite this, the view was one of beauty and tranquillity. Rupert sighed aloud.
“Come on,” encouraged Laura, “tell me what you are thinking? It must have been a nasty shock finding Elsa like that.”
“I think Mrs Parsons was more shocked than I was – that is, I was shocked, but not wholly surprised. What really shook me was the sheer brutality of the murder, her head beaten in, struck from behind again and again: it was beastly and vicious and cowardly.” He shuddered.
“Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“Well, she mentioned to me in passing that her first husband was violent, and if there is any documented proof of that – previous assaults or hospitalisation – I imagine that the police will check up on his whereabouts.”
“We know nothing of her life, of course; but the timing of her death does seem a bit, well, convenient – at least for Damian.”
“Doesn’t it just,” agreed Rupert.
“But if he thought that he was going to inherit everything from his father, what motive did he have?”
“And if he did know the will was invalid? Elsa told me that his attitude changed towards her a few nights ago – about the same time he invited us to come and visit.”
“What’s the connection there?”
Rupert’s usually benign face showed a twist of anger, “Just that we may have been asked along to serve a purpose. So that we could be witness to the fact that he was certain of inheriting the money and could have no reason to kill Elsa. So that we could be witness to the fact that he was in the house all evening from the time he returned to the hospital until the time he was called back to the hospital.”
“But we don’t know what time Elsa died, so we don’t know if we can provide an alibi.” Laura’s own delicate features were questioning rather than angry.
“We do know where Damian was for pretty much every moment of the night. I watched Elsa return to her own house yesterday after our walk, and Damian was already back at Sunley Grange. We had tea, read the papers and had some dinner. Then, at about half past seven, he disappeared into his study to listen to music whilst Flora was out for about a
n hour. After that I was with him watching our film-fest all night.”
“So he was in the house all the time. But when was Elsa killed?”
“Well,” Rupert mused, “When I found her body it was cold and stiff – she had been dead maybe ten or twelve hours. That means that she was probably killed at about the same time that Flora went out for her walk.”
“You are not suggesting that Flora killed her!” exclaimed Laura. “I know she would do almost anything for her brother, but that would be a step too far. Anyway, she’s tiny. The way you describe the attack on Elsa it was brutal: I can’t believe for a moment that Flora was capable of such an attack either physically or temperamentally.”
“Can you believe Damian capable of such an attack?”
“Frankly, yes,” said Laura unhesitatingly. “But doesn’t it seem like a bit too much of a coincidence, her being killed on virtually the same day as his father? – it inevitably throws suspicion on him. Why not wait a bit and be more subtle?”
“Because if she died after George, even by one day, she would still inherit according to the rules of intestacy. That money would not revert to his estate if she died, it would go to her next of kin or in accordance with her will. Admittedly Damian and Flora would get more, because the sum which would have been used for her interest would pass to them; but it wouldn’t be enough to preserve Sunley Grange unless Damian has his own money to put into the pot.”
“Which he doesn’t,” said Laura, thoughtfully. “As always, Rupert, I really hope you are wrong. Apart from anything else, the thought that Damian asked us here to provide an alibi for him makes my blood boil. But the fact remains that he does have an alibi. We know he was in the house. We heard his phone go off. We heard him change his music. In any case, it really wasn’t very long between us seeing him; an hour at most.”
“An hour would have been plenty,” said Rupert, thoughtfully. “After all, his going in to the study and changing music only creates an illusion of his presence. The text message only implies that he was there.”
“But these days, can’t you trace where messages were sent from and if they were received?”
“You could probably prove that the message about the floods was sent from Flora’s phone at a certain time and that it was received on Damian’s. But, that doesn’t prove who put the message in!”
“Are you suggesting that it was Damian who went out with Flora’s phone and Flora who covered for him in the house?”
Rupert’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Yes, of course! How clever. Of course nobody would believe that Flora could commit such a murder even if she had a theoretical opportunity. But if it was Damian who called on Elsa with the pretext of talking to her about his father...”
“But if the murder was as vicious as you suggest, wouldn’t there have been blood on Damian’s hands and clothes?”
“It was a cold night; he could have worn a coat and gloves. If he did, we need to find those garments. Of course he could have burned them on the fire in his bedroom, but he didn’t give himself much time because he insisted on us being together all night watching the film. But, you know what else comes into my mind: the fact that Flora didn’t seem wet after her walk, and yet Damian was so flushed after relaxing and listening to music!”
“But we don’t have any evidence and we have just gone out and left Damian with the perfect opportunity to come back from the hospital and dispose of any bloody clothes!”
“So we have, damn it! And I have a strong urge to do two things: run back and see if there are any suspicious remains in Damian’s fireplace – and find out if any of his friends mentioned that his father’s will was invalid.”
When Rupert and Laura reached Sunley Grange there were two cars already outside: Damian’s and a police car. Rupert had already been thoroughly questioned by the police following the discovery of Elsa’s body, and it seemed that the connection between Elsa and her stepchildren had led the police to at least ask some preliminary questions. As they came into the entrance hall it was clear that Damian had only just returned, released from the hospital by his father’s death and leaving Flora behind to sort out final details in a rush to be home. His arrival had coincided with that of the policeman and he looked like a man attached to his reason by one last thread. He seemed almost pathetically grateful to see Laura.
“This is my cousin,” he explained to the policeman. “She will tell you that I have only just left the side of my father who died less than an hour ago. Whatever you need to ask, surely it can wait until I have had a few moments to compose myself? I am still in shock!”
“We are dealing with a particularly vicious murder,” insisted the policeman. “I have a few very important questions to ask, but anything more detailed can be left until later.”
“Uncle George is dead?” said Laura. “Come and sit down, Damian. I will make some tea and this officer can wait just a few minutes, I’m sure.” She ushered them firmly into the first reception room. Rupert, meanwhile, disappeared.
By the time tea had arrived Damian was looking desperate. “I must just go to my room for a few moments,” he said. “Then I will answer all your questions.” He got up, but met the considerable bulk of Rupert Latimer in the doorway.
“It’s no good,” said Rupert, restraining him gently. “I’ve seen the bag with your clothes in. I know what happened! And I’m sure we can track the friend who explained to you how you were going to lose Sunley Grange.”
For a second it seemed that Damian was going to make a wild dash, but suddenly he just collapsed making horrible gulping sounds of dry sobbing. A call on his radio from the policeman and a few words from Rupert and it wasn’t too long before Damian had been taken away in a police car for questioning. Flora was to be apprehended at the hospital.
It was with relief that Laura found herself in the Range Rover with Rupert at the wheel on the pretty rural drive back to Claresby Manor.
“I’m so glad to be out of the whole poisonous affair!” she exclaimed. “I suppose we will probably have to go to court, but other than that, I hope I never see Sunley Grange again.”
“Um,” began Rupert tentatively. “That might not be so easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, outside Damian and Flora you were your Uncle George’s closest relation. Damian and Flora won’t be allowed to profit from their crime. Certainly they won’t be allowed to inherit the money which would have gone to Elsa if Damian had not killed her. There is another little technicality too. Because Elsa died before George he, as her next of kin, may inherit her house too – unless she has drawn up a recent will, which somehow I doubt. There is no way that your cousins will be allowed to inherit that element of wealth from their father. One way or another, you will probably end up with Sunley Grange!”
Laura looked aghast. “Oh, I do hope not! If I do I really will give it away to become a refuge for homeless cats.”
Rupert Investigates: A Cambridge Mystery
A late June day in picturesque Cambridge is always a pleasure, but doubly so when attending a traditional graduation ceremony in the elegant setting of the Senate-House. For Laura Latimer the occasion might have been a poignant reminder of the fact that, by dropping out after her first term of studying the History of Art, she had robbed herself of the opportunity of ever participating as a nervous graduand about to kneel before the Vice-Chancellor’s deputy. However, she was not predisposed to such introspection and was ready to enjoy the day as a spectator for whatever entertainment it might provide. She and her husband, Rupert, were currently accompanying the procession which was making its way from Pelham College, past King’s College and on to the Senate-House. The object of their attention was a rather beautiful raven-haired young woman in a black gown and a hood edged with white fur. Considering that the majority of other women in the procession were similarly dressed in the academic costume of a Bachelor of Arts, she seemed to be attracting a disproportionate amount of interest both from casual passers-by and strategic
ally placed press photographers. Bumping accidently into one of the latter, Rupert grumbled loudly,
“You’d think that they could leave her in peace for one day!”
“No chance of that,” replied Laura. “At least they won’t be allowed in the Senate-House without an invitation.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one photographer tries to wangle his way in by posing as a proud parent. Poor Tizz, she’s quite right – she will never be able to blend into the background.” Rupert cast his eyes around as if to detect every possible nook and cranny which might conceal a zealous member of the paparazzi, but seemed to suddenly catch sight of something else that galvanized him into instant action. With surprising agility for a man with a long, rangy, rather badly-put-together look about him, he leapt forward and caught hold of the raven-haired woman just as some projectile shot past them at tremendous velocity, slightly grazing Rupert’s arm.
The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries Page 15
