Startled by this comment, Jack answered swiftly, “Funny you should say that, but I actually went to Heron’s Nest today. To see the caretaker. She thinks somebody’s been using the house from time to time over the last month or so. When Paula told me the other day I decided to look into it myself.”
“And?”
“No and, India. As of this moment anyway A few interesting thoughts on my part, but I can’t actually target a person, at least not yet. And to be honest, nothing’s been disturbed as far as I can tell, nor have any locks been forced.”
“Then how does the caretaker know somebody’s been going there?”
“Good question. Apparently lights have been seen there several times, and little things seem out of place, so the caretaker says.”
“Who’d want to go to Heron’s Nest in the dead of winter? It’s icy cold in Scarborough, sitting there as it is on the North Sea, off the beaten track. None of us would go there right now. But perhaps somebody wanted to have an illicit rendezvous, something like that,” India commented and laughed. “Heron’s Nest is such a private place … in certain ways.”
A moment ago Jack had pricked up his ears, and now he asked, “Why did you mention rendezvous, India? Are you suggesting that members of the family are accustomed to using Heron’s Nest for assignations?”
“Do you mean my generation or my mother’s? There are a lot of us …” After a pause she added, “From several generations.”
Jack chuckled. “That I know, and I’m certainly not thinking of your grandmother or Robin. In fact, I was thinking about your generation.”
“I doubt it. I mean, who of us would go there? Toby? He’s about the only one who’s fancy free at the moment, and in the middle of a divorce. But his wife is in Los Angeles, so he can play around in London if he wants. He doesn’t have to hide.” When Jack didn’t respond, India asked, “Well, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I do. It’s a good point.”
“Why is Aunt Paula so upset that someone might have been there?” India now probed.
“I think she was worried that the house had been broken into, that there might have been a burglary.”
“I see. You know, Jack, none of my generation have ever been as involved with Heron’s Nest as my mother’s generation. Heron’s Nest was very important to them all when they were growing up. They went every summer to stay with Emma; they called it Emma’s Boot Camp.”
“I remember only too well. I often popped over to chat with your great-grandmother about business. Tell me something, do they still talk about those years at Heron’s Nest?”
“Oh, yes. Mummy told me quite recently how much she loved the house and that Paula had often hidden her there when she was having the secret love affair with Daddy. And Linnet once explained that her parents used to meet there on the sly when Paula was trying to get a divorce from Jim Fairley.”
“Now I understand why you link it to romantic doings,” Jack murmured. “This is interesting information, thanks. But getting back to Melinda Caldwell, I’ll put a couple of my operatives on it immediately, and I’ll talk to my pals with the Leeds police, chaps in the C.I.D. I must alert them as soon as we hang up, explain that she’s a drug addict and probably dangerous. I’m assuming she didn’t hurt you. Or did she?”
“No, of course not. But she tried,” India answered and went on. “She attempted to break into her mother’s house in Meanwood today. I don’t know the address, but I’ll check with Dusty and call you back.”
“Good. And I need a description of Melinda.”
“She’s about my height, blondish brown hair, striking face with high cheekbones. Actually, she doesn’t look good. She’s sunk very low. She was wearing black jeans and a black coat.”
“Okay. I’ve got that. Will you ask Dusty to phone the detox clinic and talk to her doctor, please? It’s important we understand her condition.”
“I will. And Jack, is there any chance of seeing you this evening?”
“Why not? I’ll be finished here in about an hour, so I could be at Willows Hall around seven-thirty How’s that?”
“It’s great, and thank you so much. I’ll be back to you shortly with the address in Meanwood.”
“Thanks, India, and try not to worry. We’ll soon have this in hand.”
It was not long before India called Jack again with the information he required. She also told him that Dusty had already spoken to Dr. Jeffers at the detox clinic, only to confirm that Melinda Caldwell had not been discharged. The doctor had informed Dusty that he was anxious for her to return to complete her treatment.
After thanking her, Jack clicked off and dialed two of his operatives who covered Yorkshire, as well as talked to his friends on the Leeds police force. Then he sat back and sipped his cup of tea, relaxing for a moment now that the problem of Melinda Caldwell was in competent hands. Another loose cannon was all he needed.
Jack had meandered into the Grand Hotel in Scarborough just before India had first called and had settled himself in the lounge where afternoon tea was served. He had ordered a pot of tea and a toasted tea cake, but now, as he glanced around, he thought of the times he had come here with Emma for afternoon tea. A rather grand tea it had been in those days, with a selection of finger sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and rich pastries. All too much for him now, far too fattening.
As he caught his breath after a busy day, his thoughts wandered to India’s comments about Heron’s Nest. He chastised himself for being so stupid; why had he focused on the younger members of the family instead of the older generation, his generation? Of course none of the kids, as he called them, would go to Heron’s Nest, especially in the depth of winter. It had no special meaning for them; but it did have great significance for Emma’s grandchildren, who had summered there with her for years. Naturally they would have a special attachment to that lovely old house by the sea.
Our salad days, he thought now, how we all remember our youth with such affection. We think of them as golden days because life seemed eternal then, and we thought we were immortal.
Rummaging around in his pocket, Jack found the small notebook he used for jotting down reminders to himself, took a pen out of his inside top pocket, and listed all of Emma’s grandchildren. who had come to Heron’s Nest when they were young. He then added the names of Shane O’Neill and Michael Kallinski, because they, too, had been constant visitors. After scrutinizing the list, he put the small notebook away and finished his tea.
Paying his bill in cash, he nodded to the waitress and walked out to his car. Within minutes he was on his way to Harrogate, driving across the moors. Mentally, he was thanking India for pointing him in the right direction. Because of her he now had a few clues, and a possible candidate for the person who had invaded the winter solitude of Heron’s Nest.
“What’s in the suitcase Mrs. Caldwell sent?” India asked, hovering in the doorway of the library at Willows Hall.
Dusty was sitting at the desk sorting through the items, and he glanced up on hearing India’s voice. “Her will, other papers, various things,” he replied, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “You look wonderful,” he added. “Come in, don’t stand there, darling.”
Smiling, India moved across the room, as always fluid and graceful. She was wearing a long crimson cashmere caftan, trimmed around her neck and down the front with gilt braiding, and her silvery gold hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her only pieces of jewelry were large gold hoop earrings, a watch, and her sapphire engagement ring.
Dusty jumped up and took her in his arms when she came to a standstill near the desk. He hugged her tightly to him, saying against her hair, “I’m so sorry for what happened today, India. You don’t deserve any of this. Melinda Caldwell is my problem, not yours.”
“Don’t be daft,” India exclaimed, using one of her grandmother’s favorite words. “You’re not responsible for her behavior. And perhaps she isn’t either, poor thing. I think she could be on drugs
again, don’t you?”
Staring hard at her, his blue eyes narrowing, Dusty asked, “Did she seem doped up to you this afternoon?”
“No, to be honest, she didn’t. But she looked dreadful. As I told Jack, she was also angry, really furious.”
Dusty sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I think Melinda’s a lost cause. I hope Jack’s people are able to find her, but God knows where they’d look.” .
“He’s got the police on it as well. Apparently he knows some detectives at the Criminal Investigation Department of the Leeds police, and he told me they have lots of contacts,” India explained.
Dusty nodded. “They’re all good lads. I know some of the C.I.D. blokes, and I would think they’d be aware of all the places where drugs are sold …” His voice trailed off. “I just hope to God she doesn’t start using again.” He stared into India’s face, his eyes clouding. He knew Melinda would do just that. Her days were numbered.
Shaking off his dour mood, Dusty said, “Molly’s such a wonderful woman. She wrote me a lovely letter and put Atlanta’s birth certificate and the key for the suitcase in the envelope.” He gestured to the items spread out on his large Georgian desk. “There’s a copy of her last will and testament, and a letter to her solicitors attached. An envelope with a thousand pounds in cash in it, a little bag of jewelry, all rather nice stuff, and the deed to her house. She owned it outright, you know. Oh, and there are two bank books for her savings accounts. Needless to say, she’s left everything to Atlanta.”
“Obviously she would,” India remarked. “I suppose she wanted you to have all this for safekeeping, since she’s in hospital.”
“That’s the only reason it could be.” Dusty bit his lip and looked at India knowingly. “I wonder if Molly suspected that Melinda would get out of the clinic and come bothering her?”
“Who knows, Dusty. The main thing is the suitcase is safe now that you have it.”
Paddy knocked on the door and came in. “Excuse me, Mr. Rhodes, I just wanted you to know that Mr. Figg’s arrived.”
“Thanks, Paddy, please show him in. And I think we’ll have drinks in here, it’s very cozy.”
“Right, sir. Mr. Figg’s just freshening up. In the meantime, shall I open a bottle of white wine?”
“That sounds good,” Dusty responded and looked over at India, who had gone to stand in front of the fire blazing up the chimney. “Or do you prefer something else?” he asked her.
“White wine’s lovely, thanks.”
Paddy nodded and left.
Dusty walked over to the fireplace, put his arm around India, and stood next to her, enjoying the warmth of the flames. “Did you tell Jack he should plan on staying the night?” Dusty asked, looking down at her.
India shook her head. “No, I guess it didn’t occur to me. But it is a good idea, now that you mention it. He would have such a long drive to Robin Hood’s Bay, if he were planning to go home tonight.”
“I know he sometimes stays at one of the hotels in Harrogate, but I am going to offer him a bed here. It’s much more comfortable.”
“You’re always so thoughtful, Dusty.”
Bending down, he kissed her on the forehead and said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh. What is it?” Her eyes were pinned on his, a questioning look in them.
“My painting of you is almost finished. At long last. I hope to show it to you on Saturday.”
“Oh, Dusty, how wonderful!”
“I hope you’re going to like it,” he murmured.
“How could I not? You’re the greatest painter there is today.”
“Ah, my bride to be is truly prejudiced.” He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling.
At this moment Jack walked in, a smile spread across his face. Hard on his heels came Paddy, carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle of white wine in a silver ice bucket.
“Jack, welcome!” Dusty exclaimed, moving forward, taking Jack’s outstretched hand, maneuvering him over to the fireside.
“Thanks for inviting me, Dusty,” Jack said, and then, turning to India, he gave her one of his bountiful smiles and hugged her to him. “It’s good to see you, India.”
“Hello, Jack. I do hope it wasn’t too bad a drive over those windy moors.”
He chuckled. “It was a bit, and I must say the moors can be hellishly treacherous in the winter. But I made it safe and sound.”
“We want you to be safe and sound tonight, Jack,” Dusty interjected. “And that’s why we insist you stay here. You can’t be driving all that way to Robin Hood’s Bay.”
“But I can go to a hotel,” Jack began and was immediately cut off by Dusty, who exclaimed, “I won’t hear of it. My home is your home. And listen, mate, it’s a lot more comfortable here than at any hotel.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Jack responded.
“Come and sit with me here,” India said, taking a seat on the sofa and patting the one next_ to her. “It’s lovely and cozy near the fire.”
Dusty said, “What would you like to drink, Jack?”
“I think I’ll join you in a glass of white wine, please.”
“Make it three glasses, thanks, Paddy.” Dusty looked over at his house manager as he spoke and added, “Dinner in about forty-five minutes? Is that all right?”
“It’s fine, sir,” Paddy replied and brought the tray of drinks over to the fireplace. Each of the three of them took a glass and thanked Paddy, who smiled in return and disappeared.
After clinking glasses, Dusty moved over to the fireplace, stood with his back to it again. There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “I know it’s far too early to ask if you have any news … but I just wanted to say this. I’m really grateful for your help, and I’ll do whatever I can to assist you. Just say the word, Jack.”
“I’m not sure how you can help, unless you know any of Melinda’s haunts in Leeds, where she might go. Or who her friends are here.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Dusty answered, frowning slightly. “You see, she hasn’t actually lived here for some years … . She moved to London and never came back much, except to see Atlanta, who has lived with Molly since she was a baby.”
“I see.” Jack blew out a puff of air, obviously in frustration, looked off in the distance for a split second. Then he said, “India told me you’d been in touch with the detox clinic … . Were they forthcoming about Melinda’s condition?”
“They’re very open, Jack, they don’t try to hide anything. I got the impression that she was clean again but that they hadn’t finished their therapy sessions. She’s always called it their brainwashing, but I do think it helps.”
“I understand. I have one of my operatives watching Molly’s house, since Melinda might try to break in again. And he’s keeping an eye on Gladys Roebotham’s house as well. What I am hoping is that we find her in Meanwood and not—”
“On a cold slab,” Dusty cut in and lifted a dark brow quizzically.
Jack shook his head. “I wasn’t going to say that, Dusty. However, let’s do hope she doesn’t end up in the morgue. I was going to say I hope she’s not found with a drug dealer or druggies, because that would mean she’s back on heroin. It is that, isn’t it?”
“Yep. And any other drug she might be able to get her hands on. Melinda is one of those people who is addictive by nature. It’s a sickness really.”
“I know that. Anyway, if anything comes up, they’ll call me.” Jack patted his tweed jacket. “I’ve got my mobile on at all times. Now, how’s Mrs. Caldwell doing?”
“She’s the same. No change,” Dusty said quietly.
India said, “Unless you two have anything else to discuss regarding Melinda, I’d like to change the subject, if you don’t mind.”
“Change away, darling,” Dusty murmured, pushing a smile onto his face. “It does get dreary talking about drug addicts, not to mention rather painful when I consider the ramifications here.”
Jack nodded in agreement. “All I want t
o say is that we are at a disadvantage, Dusty, when it comes to finding Melinda Caldwell.”
“Oh, I know that, I know it only too well.”
“Jack, can we talk about Heron’s Nest for a moment?” India asked, turning slightly on the sofa, looking at him. “I was wondering why Mrs. Hodges thought someone had been in the house recently?”
“Dust,” he responded laconically and then grinned when he saw the baffled look on India’s face.
“What on earth do you mean?”
“The disturbance of dust. She told me the house quickly gets very dusty because it’s so old, and several times lately she’s noticed marks in the dust that accumulates in a week.”
“How extraordinary!” Dusty exclaimed, looking over at Jack. “Dust, eh?” He laughed suddenly.
“Let me explain,” Jack said. “If someone walks across a dusty floor, there might not be actual footprints, but the dust will be … disturbed. I suppose that’s what she means. Anyway, Mrs. Hodges also says that upstairs one of the bathrooms has been used. Apparently this particular bathroom has a tap that drips unless it’s turned off very, very hard. She found it dripping recently. She also found some black hairs on a cushion in one of the bedrooms. Quite a few little things like that have caught her attention. Then one of her neighbors reported seeing lights in the house. Well, to be completely accurate, someone saw a light bobbing around not so long ago. I think it might have been someone using a flashlight.”
“Mrs. Hodges is quite the detective, isn’t she, Jack?” India exclaimed. “She’ll be bringing you DNA samples next.”
Jack couldn’t help laughing, and then he said, through his laughter, “Yes, she’s a regular Miss Marple. And, she did bring me a DNA sample, or rather she drew my attention to the black hairs. I have them in a glassine envelope, although I must admit I have no one to match them to, India. Nor has a crime been committed.”
“As far as we know,” India responded somewhat pithily.
“Our own Miss Marple says nothing’s been stolen from Heron’s Nest,” Jack pointed out.
Just Rewards (Harte Family Saga) Page 28
