He pulled his pyjama shirt over his head and used the damp material to clean the putter top to bottom. He took his time to rub every inch of it until it shone. Blood droned in his ears and even the squeak of the cloth on the metal made him jerk.
There. Done.
A sense of exhilaration and pride ran through him. He had acted; he had changed things. No one could use this putter anymore to bash Uncle Malcolm’s head in and then blame him for it. He had escaped.
A click in the silence. Right behind his back. A click he didn’t know and that was yet somehow familiar. He had heard it before during hunting parties at his father’s estate. It was the cocking of a gun.
Clutching his damp shirt, he turned around. There on the threshold, pointing a revolver straight at him, was Howard.
Hugh exhaled in the longest rush of relief he had ever felt. “Are you insane? Put that down. You could have shot me.”
“Yes, I could have, thinking you were a burglar. What are you doing, skulking about in the night?”
Howard wore dark blue pyjamas and slippers on his feet. He had the revolver in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
Hugh felt very silly in his pyjama bottoms and naked torso. He scrambled to put the damp shirt back on.
Howard repeated, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
Hugh was too befuddled to lie. “I wanted to clean the putter.”
“The putter?” Howard repeated, not understanding.
“Yes. My fingerprints are on it. I was worried someone would use it to kill Uncle Malcolm and I would be blamed.”
Howard stared at him. Then all of a sudden he began to laugh. Laugh and laugh until tears dripped down his cheeks.
Hugh wondered briefly if the other man was losing his mind. “Are you all right?” he asked carefully.
Howard shook his head. “This is priceless,” he said in a croak as he was still laughing. “You are here to remove your fingerprints off the putter? Clean it?”
“Yes. I cleaned it completely. Top to bottom. There’s not a print left on it.”
Howard laughed again. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame to stay upright. “This is priceless,” he repeated.
“I wish you would explain to me what’s so funny,” Hugh said, hurt. He stood there on his bare feet, feeling like an utter fool.
Howard tried to control himself, but he couldn’t stop the bursts of laughter welling up from his midsection. He was shaking now, the gun hanging from his hand. “Look, it’s just… you want to remove… but if they… it could just be…”
Hugh was now tired of his behaviour. “Get a grip, man,” he said and passed Howard into the kitchen. By the light of the stove’s reddish gleam he filled a glass with water and gave it to Howard. He gulped it down, then faced him squarely. “That’s better. I’m sorry. It is just that… you’re doing the exact wrong thing.”
“Why?” Hugh asked, not understanding.
“We all played, right? We all held the putter. Our prints should be on it. Now you cleaned it and you removed all the prints. Don’t you think that the police would think it a little suspicious if they found a putter used by several people with not a single fingerprint on it? They would be certain someone had taken the pains to clean it. And why? They’d suspect that person right off the bat.”
“Nobody knows I cleaned it,” Hugh said, with a sinking feeling of defeat. See. It was always better not to act. Just do nothing.
Howard said, “I know now.”
Hugh eyed him. “You… you… you turn up here suddenly with a gun. Why is that? How did you even get that? I think you are very suspicious. Maybe you wanted to shoot me and then lie to the police you thought you were surprising a burglar. One less heir to compete with, right?”
Howard said nothing. His face was a mask now, no trace left of the laughter that had shaken him moments ago.
Hugh said, “Where did you get that gun?”
“From the drawer in Malcolm’s desk in the study.”
“And what were you doing in the study? Trying to sneak a peek at the will?”
Howard shook his head impatiently. “I heard someone scurry about downstairs and I just wanted to have a weapon to defend myself. I knew Malcolm kept it there.”
“How would you know that if you haven’t been here before?”
“He’s always kept a gun in the drawer of his desk. In the office as well. It’s a well-known fact. Just ask Cecily or even Theodora.”
Hugh pulled back his shoulders. “I will. I’ll check on all of your statements. You’re behaving most oddly. And Kenneth…”
“What about Kenneth?” Howard asked, his brows lowering threateningly.
Hugh wished he hadn’t said that, but he couldn’t back down now. He didn’t want to give away Anna’s confidential remarks to him so he said, “I saw something this morning. I was in the garden, remember? I saw what happened with the boat.”
Howard looked him over. A nerve twitched in his right cheek.
Hugh tried to look straight at him, not blinking. Howard loved Kenneth more than anything else in life. The boy was the hold on Howard Hugh was looking for.
Howard said, “Nothing happened with the boat.”
“If you say so.” Hugh shifted weight. “But nothing happened with this putter either. Right?”
Howard pursed his lips. “You’re a fool to have wiped it completely clean. It will look odd.”
“Then you put your prints on it.” Hugh gestured at the wooden box. “Do it now.”
“Only if you also put your prints back on it.” Howard held his gaze. “If you dare.”
Hugh’s stomach filled with red hot lava. First Patty calling him a useless drunk, now this conceited man who believed he was so much better, so much more decent. He leaned down and grabbed the putter, held it with both hands so his prints were on it for certain. He then held it out to Howard. “You too. And you better not say anything nasty about me to that policeman who showed up here. Or I will be forced to tell him what I saw.”
Howard swallowed. The sound was loud in the silence.
Hugh held out the putter. “Do it.”
Howard grabbed the putter with one hand. He was still clutching the gun.
Hugh said, “Put the putter back in the box. And then we leave, together.”
Howard scoffed. “Who says I can’t go back later and clean away the prints again?”
“You could, but you won’t.” Hugh held his gaze. “I saw what happened with the boat, Howard. I have no need to tell anyone as long as I’m not at any risk. You understand?”
Howard nodded. “You and I…” he said slowly. “We should make sure someone else commits this murder. On the day that either you or I are the heir in the will. Then we can split the inheritance.”
“Why would I want to split it?”
“Because you can never take it alone. Think about it.” Howard retreated, still holding the gun tightly. Hugh wondered if he knew how to shoot. Then again, how hard was it to kill someone at close range?
Shots did ring out though. It wasn’t a quiet way of killing.
“Think about it,” Howard repeated.
Hugh said, “How would we ever know on which day your name or mine is on the will?”
Howard said, “That’s the least of our problems. If you agree to do it, I’ll take care of that.”
Hugh’s heart pounded. Did Howard have access to the will? Did he actually know whose name was on it on any given day? How? Via Koning? The butler or the chauffeur, who probably had to witness it?
Or because he had access to the safe? Would Malcolm be so stupid as to use a combination anyone close to him could guess?
Howard disappeared into the darkness with the gun, his footfalls fading.
Hugh stood and wiped his face with both hands. He had come here to solve one problem but instead he had created even more. Should he take Howard’s offer seriously?
Half of the inheritance in exchange for helping him to
pin the murder on someone else.
On whom? Who did Howard have in mind?
Chapter Eight
“I cannot tell you how good it is to have the sun shine on my old bones,” Malcolm croaked to Cecily, who walked beside the wheelchair as the nurse pushed it up the path to the vantage point. Anna Cane wore a long dress that covered her legs to her stockinged feet in open shoes and a blouse over the dress as if she was afraid she’d catch a cold. Cecily couldn’t understand how the nurse wasn’t suffocating being all covered up. Her own yellow dress left her arms bare but the sun could not shine on them as she held a parasol over her head. A tan might be becoming fashionable these days, but Cecily had learned as a model that sunbathing aged the skin and she was eager to retain her youth every way she could.
She panted slightly as they reached the top and the nurse parked the wheelchair close to the edge. Malcolm reached out a thin bony hand to Cecily. “Let’s enjoy the view together.”
Cecily shivered at the idea of what together had been, but she took his hand in hers and smiled determined to make this day pleasant. Howard had been difficult enough about it, demanding that Kenneth would stay at home at the villa instead of joining them. The headache the boy had complained about the other day had to be gone by now and it wasn’t wise to leave him alone in a house where he might be tempted to snoop around.
Cecily squeezed Malcolm’s dry hand and said, “What a stunning view. You know all the best places.”
Behind them the others came up and spread out. The vantage point was on the corner of the rock with the furthest protrusion over the sea, while the rest of the cliffs stretched two ways, a narrow path leading down them, with blossoming plants on both sides. Birds soared on high, and in the distance the white sails of boats bobbed on the water.
Cecily turned her head to follow the figures of Patty and Mr Koning, the lawyer, as they walked side by side to the left, admiring the flowers. Cecily could just hear him say, “These are beautiful, but not as beautiful as the bougainvillea at the villa. Those purple blooms look so lovely.”
Patty gawked at him as if the lawyer had said something incredibly worthwhile and Cecily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That American gold-digger was probably already thinking up grounds to divorce Hugh and attach herself to a man who could offer her more. Koning wasn’t exactly handsome, but his position as a lawyer to the rich and famous gave him cachet, she supposed. Maybe Patty thought she could learn secrets and blackmail people? She had a decidedly furtive streak about her.
“Not so envious, darling,” Malcolm said, jerking at her hand. “Patty is twenty years younger than you. I don’t blame you at all for looking a little… past your prime in her presence.”
Cecily flashed her eyes at him. “Patty isn’t beautiful. She attracts attention in a conspicuous sort of way. A loud way. She isn’t subtle and she certainly doesn’t have many faces the way a model must have. She has but one face and it’s dull and dumb.”
Malcolm watched Patty, his shrewd eyes narrowed. “She is not dumb, darling. Far from it.”
Cecily frowned. “What do you mean by that? Are you really going to risk her inheriting all you own? Why? Explain it to me.”
Malcolm laughed softly. “Everybody gets a fair chance.”
Cecily pulled her hand free. “I see Howard over there. I’d better go ask him if he brought water like I told him to. It’s so hot.” She marched away.
* * *
At the far edge of the cliffs Jasper stood with Kenneth. He had just given the boy his strong binoculars and explained what to focus on so he could find the small uninhabited island in the water.
“I think I see it,” Kenneth enthused. “I want to go there some time.”
“There’s nothing special to see,” Jasper said.
“Still, I want to go there.”
“I have a motorboat. I could take you out. If your parents agree.”
“I’m not a baby anymore.” Kenneth’s strong suntanned hands clutched the binoculars.
Jasper drew breath slowly. The salty air of the sea always calmed him and made his mind clearer. He had missed the sea in London. Oh, he could walk past the Thames, but it wasn’t quite the same thing. This water stretching ahead of him had awesome power. It was inspiring to look at and capable of killing, yet it often didn’t use its power. If only people were like that.
He asked, “How are you feeling today?”
Kenneth shrugged. “A little sore.” He lowered the binoculars and fixed his eyes on Jasper. “Have you told my father anything?”
Jasper hitched a brow. “What’s there to tell? I found you on the beach. I sat with you until your father came.”
Kenneth asked, “Did I say anything?”
Jasper shook his head. “You just lay there. I think you were tired from swimming back to the shore. The waves can be quite powerful.”
“The tide was in,” Kenneth said. He frowned, as if he thought about a difficult problem. “Anna could swim. Theodora told me she couldn’t.”
A chill slipped down Jasper’s spine. “When the boat turned over, you believed that the girl who was with you couldn’t swim?”
Kenneth said, “Anna isn’t a girl. She’s a woman. Marie is a girl.”
“Who is Marie?”
“A girl in Provence. She doesn’t matter.” Kenneth lifted the binoculars again and shifted his gaze from the island in the distance to a boat. “I can see the people on it. One of them is wearing a white hat.”
“You thought Anna couldn’t swim? Still you took her boating?”
Kenneth shrugged. “Theodora told me Anna couldn’t swim. I think she told me because she guessed I wanted to take her boating and she didn’t approve. She is like that. She can’t stand other people having fun. I didn’t think she was telling the truth.”
“So you thought that Anna could swim?” Jasper asked softly. In his mind it made an enormous difference to his interpretation of the situation whether Kenneth had believed Anna could or could not swim when he took her out. If he had toppled the boat of course.
“I was certain she could. I didn’t ask though.” Kenneth’s face contorted in a painful grimace. “When the boat turned over and we both fell into the water, she was screaming and thrashing about. Suddenly Theodora’s words came back to me and I realized she might really not be able to swim. I tried to grab her shoulders to pull her to the shore. The tide was in so it didn’t have to be that difficult. But she fought me off. She almost knocked me in the eye.”
Kenneth sighed.
“Then suddenly she was gone. I thought she was sinking. I dived, deep, to look for her. I went down several times, but I couldn’t see her anymore.”
Jasper nodded slowly. “So when you lay on the beach, you believed Anna was dead? That she had drowned?”
Kenneth nodded. “I thought it was my fault because I had taken her out and I had known she couldn’t swim. That is, I had known because Theodora told me, but I hadn’t believed her.”
He turned his young face to Jasper and said gravely, “Does that even make a difference?”
Jasper held his gaze. “Why are you asking me, Kenneth?”
Kenneth lowered his eyes. “Because you used to work for the police. Mother and Father fought about that last night.”
“They fought about me?” Jasper asked.
“Yes. Father told Mother to stay away from you and she asked what on earth for, then he said ‘because he was with the police, you fool, that’s why.’”
“And what did you think then?” Jasper studied the boy’s expression closely searching for a sign that he was lying as he answered this.
“Nothing,” Kenneth said. “I think Father was worried because of me. Not because of himself or Mother. They have nothing to hide.”
“And you do have something to hide?”
Kenneth’s face was a mask, blank but for the sweat beading his cheeks. It was natural as temperatures were rising again.
Kenneth said, “I don’t know.”
>
“You don’t know if you have something to hide?”
Kenneth shrugged again. “I can’t remember what happened before the boat turned over and we fell into the water.” He looked up at Jasper. “I do know I tried to save her as I remembered she might not be able to swim. I was scared I hadn’t believed Theodora and that somehow Anna would die.”
“So you didn’t want Anna to die?” Jasper asked in a matter-of-fact tone as if he was discussing the weather.
Kenneth shook his head. “Not when we were in the water. Not afterwards.” He reached up and wiped the sweat away, running his hand through his damp hair. “Have I done something wrong?”
“I can’t tell you that, because I don’t know everything that happened.”
“You could ask Anna.” Kenneth’s eyes bored into Jasper’s as if he wanted to read the other’s instinctive response to this suggestion.
Jasper said, “What do you think she’d tell me?”
Uncertainty flashed in Kenneth’s eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened.” He took a deep breath. “Will you ask Anna?”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Jasper tilted his head.
Kenneth’s whole posture tightened. “I can’t.” His voice was hoarse. “I shouldn’t.” He pushed the binoculars into Jasper’s hands and darted off, back to the vantage point.
Jasper stared down on the dark rubber where Kenneth’s sweaty palms had left visible traces. Was the boy merely traumatized by the experience, trying to save a woman he adored, believing he was the cause of the danger she was in, then coming to shore believing he had failed and she had died?
Still, Jasper wasn’t entirely sure how Kenneth felt about Anna Cane. If he was happy about her survival.
After all, Anna would be able to tell what had happened in the boat, between them.
Jasper turned the binoculars over and over in his hands. Was he going to ask Anna? Merely to see what she had to say?
If she was going to accuse Kenneth or claim nothing had happened at all?
A Testament to Murder Page 10
