The Missing Diamond Murder

by Diane Janes

  ‘Good show. Now we can either take a steep little path just along here which is a much shorter way to the beach, or we can go right back to the house and you can see which way people would normally have gone when they went down to the beach.’

  ‘Back to the house, I think,’ said Fran. ‘I’d much rather get a full picture.’

  ‘I say, I hope you won’t think it frightfully impertinent, but … well … may I ask you a personal question?’

  Fran laughed. ‘That rather depends what it is.’

  ‘Well, you were introduced to us as Mrs Black and you wear a wedding ring, but you have travelled down here alone and you never mentioned your husband. Is there still a Mr Black?’

  ‘Barely. That is to say that Mr Black is alive and well, but once our divorce has gone through – assuming that it does – he will be looking to bestow the title of Mrs Black elsewhere.’

  ‘Oh.’ Eddie was silent for a moment, as if considering her response. ‘And … if I may be even more impertinent, is there someone else waiting in the wings, ready for you to be free?’

  For a fleeting moment she heard Tom’s words again: You do know that if things had been different, I would have asked you to marry me once you are free? ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘There is no one.’

  A slightly awkward silence ensued. She was not accustomed to being quizzed about her private affairs and divorce was such a touchy social subject.

  Abruptly Eddie said, ‘Well, all I can say is that if Mr Black left someone as lovely as you, then he’s a damn fool.’

  Glancing sideways, she saw that he had gone slightly pink under his suntan.

  ‘That’s a very nice compliment.’ Fran smiled, to show that far from being offended by his curiosity she appreciated the gallant way in which he had tried to alleviate her possible embarrassment. ‘Now,’ she said, adopting a smooth, businesslike tone to indicate that any potential awkwardness was behind them, ‘it would be really helpful if you could tell me, as far as possible, who was staying here, where they all were and what they were doing on the afternoon of your grandfather’s death.’

  ‘Easier said than done, I’m afraid. Mother was definitely at home and so was Mellie and Roly, and Hen and myself. Uncle Charles and his wife, Aunt Dolly, were staying here at the time, and so were the two younger Dereham cousins. We’d also got some visitors that day. Rhona and Frank Baddeley had walked across from Baddeley Court, and a couple of the Trenchards had turned up for a game of tennis. They’d telephoned ahead, I seem to recall, to check that it was convenient—’

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Fran interrupted. ‘This is far more complicated than I thought. I’m going to need to write all this down.’

  ‘Better see the lie of the land first and make your list of suspects later,’ Eddie suggested. ‘I think you should make the most of the morning, because according to the forecast in Roly’s paper, there may be rain later.’

  Though Fran did her best to keep her mind on the matter in hand, it was impossible not to enjoy their tour of the gardens for its own sake, with the spring bulbs blooming everywhere and the long, carefully configured stream sparkling as it tumbled down a series of realistic-looking waterfalls. There was a new and pleasant vista at every twist and turn of the path and Eddie proved an excellent guide, ensuring that she missed nothing – not the thatched pavilion which provided shade alongside the tennis court, nor the croquet lawn (‘Father was rather keen on croquet, but no one has played much since his accident’) and eventually taking her arm to help her over the band of shingle which ran across the top of the private beach before they strolled across an exposed strip of sand where line after line of little wavelets were breaking at the water’s edge.

  He showed her the changing hut which had been built on a solid stone base, well above the high-water line, opening its door to reveal the family’s store of shrimping nets, buckets and spades. ‘There’s usually a lot more gear down here,’ he explained. ‘But the chairs and windbreaks are all taken up to the house at the end of the season because the canvas tends to rot if they’re left down here over winter.’

  How very nice it must be, she thought, to live this kind of life, or even to be invited down to stay for a few days as a guest.

  ‘Do you like to bathe? You must come down and stay in the summer.’

  It was almost as if he had read her mind. Fran felt her cheeks growing a degree warmer. Had her envious expression been so blatant?

  She looked back up to the place where she guessed the clifftop path, which they had explored earlier, must be hidden behind the trees.

  Again, Eddie seemed to understand what was in her mind. ‘The rocks where Grandfather was found are literally just around that corner.’ He pointed to the eastern end of the bay. ‘You can’t get round there without a boat, because the sea always comes right to the foot of the cliffs at that side.’

  ‘And you can’t see the path which runs above the garden from here.’

  ‘No. Though it isn’t actually all that far away. If someone was up there now and we shouted, they would probably hear us, though it would be almost impossible to hear them if they shouted back in return, because of the sea.’

  ‘But if someone really screamed?’

  ‘I’m not sure. You see, we can be such a noisy mob, and you might just mistake a single cry for one of the kids playing, or even something to do with a tennis match.’

  ‘You know, I think your brother’s paper may have been right about the weather. There are some awfully dark clouds coming in.’

  Eddie glanced westward. ‘We’ll get back to the house before it starts,’ he said. ‘Providing we put our best feet forward.’

  NINE

  They were just in time to avoid the rain. On their way back to the house, Eddie suggested that she should use the library as her ‘HQ’, as he described it. ‘It’s hardly ever used,’ he said. ‘I suppose people became accustomed to thinking of it as Grandfather’s room and so we all got into the way of using the drawing room and the morning room, but you will need somewhere private to conduct your interviews and make your notes, and the library would be just the ticket for that.’

  By the time Fran had changed her shoes and collected her notebook, Eddie had already rung for coffee, which arrived on a silver tray, accompanied by delicious homemade biscuits, and he had settled himself in one of the easy chairs ‘so that you can interview me first’.

  ‘Don’t mind if I dunk, do you?’ he asked, a biscuit poised above his china coffee cup.

  ‘Not in the least,’ said Fran, who had been brought up to believe that it was extremely vulgar but was melted by Eddie’s cheerful familiarity.

  ‘Jolly good, then.’ As he dipped the bottom curve of his biscuit into his coffee, he said cheerfully, ‘Let the interrogation begin.’

  ‘I think it would be helpful if I could get a firm idea of your extended family … various aunts and uncles and cousins have been mentioned and I’m not at all clear where they fit in.’

  ‘Fair enough. We don’t need to worry about Mother’s side. Her brother is Lord Curnow. He lives in Italy with a mistress. His first wife was an American and when they parted she took the children back over there, so we never see the cousins on that side from one year’s end to the next.’

  ‘Does your mother have any other siblings?’

  ‘None. Poor dear Mother only has us – although she probably thinks that’s quite enough family to worry about, one way or another.’

  ‘So how about your father’s side?’

  ‘Much more numerous. Grandfather came back from Africa around 1870 and was married a few years later. Father was his oldest child, then came Lettie, Charles, Catriona and lastly Sybil. His wife – my grandmother – died when she was fairly young and he never married again. As his children grew up and started families of their own, Grandfather got into the habit of renting a house by the seaside – usually in Devonshire – so that he could have them all to stay for the summer and eventually he had this place built, so th
ey could come here.

  ‘All his children married rather well. Grandfather was a nobody, but the gentry were inclined to overlook that on account of his money. Mother’s family can trace their roots back to Edward IV … or is it Edward III? I never can remember, and anyway it doesn’t matter a fig. It’s the same with Mellie. Her family think that they are fearfully grand, but they also happen to be frightfully impoverished. Our aunt Catriona’s husband claims some distant kinship with King George, I believe. Personally I don’t give a damn about any of it. Marry for love, I say, and never mind money or social ambition.’

  Fran smiled. ‘Hear, hear,’ she said. ‘So you were saying that as well as your father there were four younger brothers and sisters in that generation?’

  ‘That’s right. Father married Mother and had the three of us. Aunt Lettie married Maurice Dereham and they had four children, Susanna, George, Helena and Cecilia. Susie and George are around the same ages as us and we’ve been spending our summers together for years and years.’

  ‘And were these people staying here when your grandfather died?’

  ‘Not all of them. Susie is married now and George only came down for a few days in early summer that year, but Helly and Ceccie – that is Helena and Cecilia – were still here when Grandfather died. Uncle Maurice had taken Aunt Lettie on a sea voyage in the latter part of the school holidays – she hadn’t been too well, so the quacks had recommended it – and George had gone off to stay with some friend of his in Norfolk while his younger sisters stayed on with us.’

  ‘So …’ Fran made a note. ‘Helena and Cecilia Dereham were here. How old are they?’

  ‘Helly has just turned seventeen. Ceccie is fourteen so not too much older than Imogen.’

  ‘Imogen was here, of course?’

  ‘Imogen is always here. She has lived with Grandfather and the rest of us since her mother, Aunt Sybil, died.’

  ‘How about your uncle Charles and aunt Catriona?’

  ‘Uncle Charles was here with his new wife, Dolly. She’s a rather common sort of woman and none of us likes her very much,’ said Eddie, clearly forgetting the noble sentiments he had expressed a moment or two earlier about marrying solely for love.

  ‘With their children?’

  ‘They don’t have any. As for Aunt Catriona, she had been here with her family earlier in the summer, but by the time Grandfather died they had all decamped up to Northumberland to stay with her in-laws.’

  ‘So the only people actually staying at the house were the usual family – that’s your mother, Roland, Mellie, Henrietta, yourself and Imogen, plus your uncle Charles and his wife and your two teenage cousins, Helena and Cecilia.’

  ‘Spot on.’

  ‘But you mentioned some other visitors – people who had come just for the day?’

  ‘That’s right. Rhona and Frank had walked over from Baddeley Court. It’s only about a mile across the fields and they often pop across if they fancy a dip on a hot day. Rhona is the same age as Cecilia and Frank is a couple of years younger, so when Aunt Catriona’s gang are here, they just add to the merry throng. They’re all nice kids and they generally get along fine together.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Just two of the Trenchard sisters, Mabel and Victoria. They had telephoned that morning, to see if anyone would be playing tennis. They have their own court at home of course, but it’s not so much fun with only the two of them.’

  ‘Are they also children?’ asked Fran, who half remembered the name Mabel Trenchard from a conversation over breakfast.

  ‘Oh no. Mabel is twenty-one next month and Victoria is a year younger, I think.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  Eddie considered for a moment. ‘No … I’m pretty sure that’s everyone. Well, except for the servants, of course.’

  ‘I’m going to need a list of their names too.’

  ‘Of course.’ Eddie began his recitation at once, staring with Jamieson the butler, Imogen’s governess, Miss Billington, Monica Roche, who had been employed as his grandfather’s nurse, working his way through the ranks of indoor staff in order of precedence, before turning his attention to the outdoor staff, staring with Marshall, the head gardener and ending with Max and Joe, the apprentices.

  Fran was quite taken aback at the sheer number of people who apparently needed to be employed in order to take proper care of Sunnyside House and its half-dozen occupants. Goodness, she would probably have to talk to all of them. It was going to take ages. For now, though, she needed to focus on the principal players, starting with Eddie.

  ‘Can you tell me what you remember about the day that your grandfather died? Starting right at the beginning, before it became clear that there was something wrong?’

  Again Eddie adopted a look of intense concentration as he marshalled his thoughts. ‘It’s rather difficult,’ he said at last. ‘To begin with it was just another ordinary day. We’d been enjoying a splendid run of good weather, so one day tended to be pretty much like another, though of course in another way, no two days were exactly alike.’

  Fran waited patiently, confident that an explanation would be forthcoming.

  ‘When the weather is good we often have our lunch out of doors. That sort of thing is usually decided upon at breakfast, so that Jamiseon and Cook know well in advance what’s wanted. Sometimes we would have picnic hampers brought down to the beach, or else taken somewhere in the grounds. Some days there would be visitors, either unexpected callers who stayed for lunch or tea, or people we’d invited to spend the day. Some days someone would get up a treasure hunt, or the kids would play hide-and-seek or Hare and Hounds. Other times people would just drift through the day, reading and sunbathing, swimming or looking for crabs in the rock pools at low tide. Most days someone would suggest a game of tennis. Hen is really keen and actually rather good, and our cousin, Helly, is another sporty girl, so they were always up for a few sets.’

  ‘So on this particular day,’ Fran said, ‘can you remember where it was decided that you would eat lunch, for example?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Mother and Uncle Charles preferred to eat up here at the house, so naturally Uncle Charles’ wife, Dolly, came up here for luncheon too. Grandfather’s was laid on a tray and taken into his room. The rest of us had a picnic down on the beach. I can’t recall exactly what we ate, but I seem to remember that there was some salad, because Cecilia’s tomato rolled off her plate on to the sand and that made everyone laugh. Of course, then Imogen got a bit silly and rolled her tomato on to the sand deliberately and Miss Billington had to tell her to calm down. I’m afraid she gets rather overexcited at times and it gets her into trouble.’

  ‘Had the Baddeleys and the Trenchards arrived by lunchtime?’

  ‘Mabel and Victoria Trenchard were definitely here by then. I’m not sure about young Rhona and Frank. I’m afraid it’s terribly difficult to recall every detail.’

  ‘You’re doing very well,’ Fran assured him. ‘I want to concentrate on lunchtime, because we know that your grandfather was still in his room at that point. I think you said that he was in there, asleep, at around two p.m. when Jamieson came to collect his tray. Where would everyone else have been by then?’

  ‘I can’t speak for Mother, because I didn’t see her again until we all went back up to the house much later, though I believe she went to lie down after lunch. By two o’clock most of us would still have been hogging down on the beach. Uncle Charles and Aunt Dolly came back down there after they’d eaten and we were all still sitting about. I don’t think we even started unpacking the hampers until well after one that day.’

  ‘So everyone else was eating together, down on the beach – even the people who’d been playing tennis?’

  ‘That’s right. I think they may have been the reason for the delay. We were waiting for them to come and join us.’

  ‘And after lunch was finished, what did people do then?’

  ‘Oh, various things. Hen changed into her bathers and went for a
swim. So did Roly, I think. Imogen, Cecilia and some of the others started to play cricket. It was low tide around three o’clock that day so there was plenty of flat sand. Mellie was lying under her parasol – she doesn’t like to get burned – pretending to read but probably just dozing. Anything to get out of ball games.’

  ‘And what were you doing?’

  ‘Me? Actually, I think I helped dear old Billie collect everything up and put it back into the hampers. Poor Miss Billington, she often gets lumbered with that kind of thing. Then I sat on one of the rugs and after a minute or two Mabel Trenchard came over and sat next to me and we chatted for a bit. It was just local gossip, you know, nothing at all significant. Then I went to play cricket with the kids for a while and after that I cooled off in the sea. Later a group of us went up for tennis – first to six games and the winners stay on, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And from there?’

  ‘We played until about five. In summer, tea is always laid out on the terrace from about half past four – or in the drawing room of course, if it’s raining – and Roly was complaining that he would die if he didn’t have something to drink soon, so we strolled up through the garden together. Mother and Uncle Charles were already there, and it wasn’t too long before the people who’d stayed on the beach started to appear. By the time Grandfather was missed, I’m pretty sure that everyone was back up at the house.’

  ‘Who played tennis and who stayed on the beach?’

  Eddie looked thoughtful. ‘I must get this right, mustn’t I, because I suppose it’s all a question of who could have slipped away on their own? Initially only four of us walked up to the courts. Helly, Mabel and Victoria were already in their tennis kit and I had slipped back into a pair of shorts so we were ready to set off, but Hen had to change out of her wet bathing dress. It’s much more complicated for girls, isn’t it? Anyway, she said she would catch us up and so did Roly. I think that he was probably still hoping to persuade Mellie to play. Dolly said that she was going to come and join us, but she didn’t come right away either.’