“The body?” Jack said.
“Laurent Bourdin, mayor of St. Martin. It appears he was so drunk he took the little rowing boat, went over to the folly—”
“Folly?”
Jack turned to Sarah.
“Oh — it’s, well, like a temple, something Grecian. Just decorative, really. Built on a small island in the centre of the lake.”
“Sounds aptly named.”
“It seems he got as far as the island,” Tony went on, “then he must have slipped on the mud, fallen back in the water and smacked his head on a boulder.”
“Nasty. So the body…?”
“Just floated on the lake. Until this morning. Lady Repton spotted it first. Called the police — as you say — asap.”
Jack nodded.
And Sarah knew he was thinking. Putting all the details together.
Those New York detective instincts, honed on the mean streets of Manhattan. “Sarah and I can tell you about who was there. Quite a large crowd. The local great and the good.”
Still, Jack hadn’t said anything.
But then…
He looked at Sarah, then to Tony, brow furrowed.
“The drunken mayor slipped, knocked himself out, drowned. Police on it.” He took a breath. “So why call Sarah, or me?”
Tony sniffed the air.
“It’s Lady Repton, Jack. You know her, of course.”
“Do indeed. Great old lady.”
“Well, all this — it’s terribly embarrassing. And the event, spearheaded by her grandson—”
Tony hesitated. Jack could tell that Simon Repton was not Tony’s cup of tea. “Simon Repton. Has big plans for the old place. Now she's worried about the family name.”
“But the police are involved, yes?”
“Of course. Alan is over there this morning. CID from Oxford due shortly, I’ve heard. Looks like an accident. But still, well as I said, you know Lady Repton.”
Sarah had her eyes on Jack. Maybe he was right. Nothing more than an accident for the police to investigate.
He looked over then, as if sensing her eyes on him. “Okay. I guess we could talk to her.”
“And Simon,” Tony added. “It was his ‘show’ last night, so to speak. The manor house turned into a conference centre. His dream, using his grandmother’s money to be sure.”
Tony looked from Jack then to Sarah. “Would you? It would be a great favour. Just a terrible accident, I'm sure.”
“I'm sure,’ Jack said.
Does he mean that? Sarah thought.
Jack stood up, and extended a hand to the solicitor.
And Sarah felt that maybe there were things Jack hadn’t said that she would soon hear once they stepped outside.
“So Jack, what do you think?”
For a moment he didn't look at her, squinting in the sunlight.
He turned to her. “You know, Sarah, sometimes an accident is just that: an accident.” He shook his head.
“I know, but it wouldn't hurt for us — to look into it. If only to pacify Lady Repton.”
Jack nodded. Then: “It’s police business. They have their team, on it. I dunno, Sarah…”
Sarah kept her response short, to the point.
“Yes. But what if we can help?”
Then one added fact.
“And we have helped people.”
Jack nodded again. Took a deep breath. The truth of that clear. Case closed.
And then — he smiled. “Sure.”
Said with all the warmth that she had grown to like so much.
“Wouldn't hurt for us to ask a few questions. Be interesting to meet this Simon fellow.”
“I doubt very much you’ll like him,” Sarah said.
Jack laughed.
“I gathered that from Tony’s take on him.”
“The man’s an octopus — if you know what I mean,” Sarah said, triggering another laugh from Jack.
Jack looked around again.
“And not a bad day weather-wise,” he said. “The Sprite, top down?”
“Brilliant,” Sarah said, following him to the small sports car he’d parked by the Village Hall, the minuscule vehicle with its tall driver already a familiar sight in the village.
And they drove to Repton Hall, in silence, enjoying the light, the wind and this rather spectacular day.
6. Simon
Pulling into the gravel roundabout in front of the grand Georgian house, Jack saw a police car.
“Looks like Alan’s still here.”
Jack was never certain how Alan would respond to them. With their help, mysteries had certainly been solved. These days, Alan seemed not to mind them getting involved — at least not as much as he did when Jack and Sarah first started their little “investigations”.
A good solid beat cop, Jack would have called him back in NYC. Perfect for a sleepy village like Cherringham.
It’s only when things got complicated could he be over his head.
Alan popped out of his car as Jack pulled up.
“And it looks like he’s expecting us,” Jack said.
Sarah nodded. Jack knew that she had history with the officer, which made things complicated for her.
Jack parked the Sprite, and then he and Sarah got out of the car.
Alan’s face was set, serious.
“Morning, Alan,” Jack said.
A nod. “Lady Repton said she had asked to see you two. Thought I’d wait. It's very much a police matter here, you know.”
“I’m sure,” Jack said.
“Alan, we just were going to talk to Lady Repton and Simon,” Sarah said. “She's worried about the incident, the publicity.”
The officer nodded, then pointed to the water’s edge. “Just make sure you don't go anywhere down there. We’ve got yellow tape over by the trees. But the whole lake is off-limits. Least till the SOCO gets here.”
“Absolutely,” Jack said. “Just here to talk.” He fired a glance at Sarah.
“Right, and maybe reassure Lady Repton,” she added.
“Okay. Yes—” Alan took his time. “Guess that’s okay.”
Not that he could stop us, Jack thought. Still, better to keep on Alan’s good side.
“Alan,” said Sarah. “Just curious — can we ask you a bit about the body, where they found it?”
“Bobbing out there, on the lake. Looks like whatever nonsense went on here last night, the mayor from St. Martin took it into his head to row out to the island. What was he thinking? Slipped, and fractured his skull.”
Jack nodded. “He didn’t drown?”
“He was floating face down. Not my area of expertise, Jack. That will require a postmortem. But the hole in his skull looked lethal and bloody enough to kill him.”
Alan’s radio squawked, and he turned back to his patrol car. “She's inside. And that grandson of hers too.”
Another Simon fan, Jack thought.
“Thanks,” Sarah said, and Jack followed her up the steps and into the house.
“It’s all coming back to me,” Sarah said. “Last night, here way too much wine.”
Jack looked around. Though the place was opulent, he could see signs of things beginning to slip. A bit of frayed carpet, the wood railing of the staircase not as gleaming and shiny as it should be.
They stood in what he guessed was a classic sitting room. White antimacassars covered the arms and headrests of claw-footed easy chairs.
Just like Grandma’s place in Brooklyn Heights, Jack thought. A room out of a museum collection.
He turned to Sarah. “So, the plan was for this place to become a modern conference centre?”
Sarah nodded. “There’s a big new extension at the back with meeting rooms and a leisure centre. And they’ll use the dining room in the main building of course. But I can’t imagine this room will be part of the ‘package’.”
A sudden clearing of a throat signalled that they weren't alone.
And Jack turned to see Lady Repton, standing nex
t to a lanky man.
Simon.
Jack looked at him. Simon’s eyes were shifting everywhere except landing on Jack.
There is a guy who looks like he may have a secret or two, he thought.
Sarah stirred her teacup, making a whirlpool in the delicate china cup, sending a single sugar cup spinning. No other sweetener on offer, so the cube was it.
She and Lady Repton got Jack up to speed on the purpose of the event last night, the planned twinning, the local luminaries who attended.
And Lady Repton didn’t hide the fact that she wasn’t thrilled with her grandson’s plans to turn the ancestral home into a modern conference centre. A good deal of head shaking and eye rolling accompanied her description of those “plans” and Simon’s ambitions.
Simon. So quiet.
“And the cost? So much money!” she said.
Sarah waited for Simon to defend his plans, but now, he was much less gregarious than he had been the night before. Not enough sleep, and probably a crashing hangover. His blood-shot eyes looked like road map.
Jack nodded. Then he pressed the point: “Simon, you were the organiser of the event?”
Finally, as if waiting for a bullet that would inevitably hit, Simon looked at Jack, then Sarah.
He cleared his throat. “I, er, um, provided and prepared the venue.”
He parsed his words so carefully.
“The reception, though, was run by the Parish Council, of course. June Rigby, Lee Jones.”
Jack looked to Sarah.
“The chair and vice-chair of the Council, Jack.”
Simon nodded. “I merely provided the resources, the tech set-up for Sarah and her PowerPoint. Organised the dinner.”
“And the wine?” Jack said.
That stopped Simon. The wine would be a key player in this, Sarah knew. For that accident to happen, for Laurent to stumble and smash his head on a rock… well, that would call for an enormous amount of wine.
Simon rubbed his nose.
“Y-yes. Though, June and Lee signed off on it all.”
Jack nodded, a small smile. Sarah knew that smile. Disarming, one of Jack’s tools of the trade.
“And you just kept it flowing?”
A nod. Then Sarah leaned close.
“Simon, after I left, I'm wondering… did anything happen that concerned you? I know you turned on the hot tub and the party went on late. Did you see the mayor leave?”
Too many questions she knew.
Lady Repton filled the gap.
“Hot tub. Spare me the details please.”
Then she stood up. “I think I’ll let you three chat. I don’t think my constitution can handle any more discussion of that… hot tub. I shall be in the garden.”
“Sure,” Jack said.
Then Lady Repton paused in her flight. “And thank you both for coming.”
“Glad to help,” Sarah said, as the venerable lady fled the room just as some seamy details seemed about to bubble to the surface.
“Yes, everyone seemed up for it. I mean, not Tony, of course. Still—” Simon caught himself. “Or Cecil either. But Laurent got a bit worked up. I mean, everyone was—”
“Naked?” Jack said.
“Lot of wine,” Simon offered. “And the mayor suddenly got upset. He’d barely plopped in — he was very large — before he stormed away.”
“Upset?” Sarah said. “What about?”
“Well, lots of laughs going on between Lee and the deputy mayor. Maybe Laurent didn’t appreciate that. I did go and look for him.”
Jack looked over at Sarah. She imagined he had a question at the ready but in such a subtle way he was telling her to carry on.
“You were worried?” she said.
“About the mayor — no. But about the deal? Yes! It’s not just a big deal for the village, you know. Big deal for this place too, the Repton Conference Centre.”
“So you tried to see if Laurent was all right?”
Simon nodded. “Found him in the bar. And he was anything but, threatened to pull the bloody plug on everything and—”
Simon stopped, catching himself.
He rubbed his nose again, sniffed.
Maybe more than wine being liberally consumed last night.
“That’s it. I went to bed. Then, this morning, the police came.”
“Lady Repton spotted the body?” Jack said.
Simon’s head seem to sink lower.
“Yes. She wasn’t sure what it was at first. Then—”
Sarah looked at Jack.
Just the kind of thing to make him angry. The old lady having to experience that.
Jack remained steady. “And that’s all you know?”
A quick nod from Simon. And Sarah guessed that her friend didn’t buy that at all.
Jack stood up. “Beautiful place your grandmother has here, Simon. Be a shame to have anything… anything at all endanger that, yes? Guess we all need wait on what the SOCO finds out, hmm?”
A small smile.
“Yes,” Simon said, his voice hollow.
“Meanwhile, I assume it’s all right for Sarah and me to talk to the other revellers. Wouldn’t want any surprises to hurt your grandmother or the family name.”
Another nod from Simon, as Jack walked out of the sitting room and Sarah came beside him.
“This house needs some work. But what a place.”
When they left the manor house, Alan was down by the shore with a man in a SOCO white suit.
“Jack, what do you think?”
“Lots. Fancy a little ride?”
“Sure. As long as I get to hear your thoughts on all this.”
He shook his head, grinning.
Jack finally back.
“Oh, you will.”
7. The Second Boat
Sarah got out of Jack’s Sprite, and looked around. From Repton Hall they’d driven across the main road and then climbed sharply so they were now up on top of the wooded line of hills that bordered the Repton Estate.
“You’re beginning to know your way around pretty well, Jack,” said Sarah. “I’ve never even been up here.”
“Nice place to come and hike. Been doing it for a while now.”
Now, as she looked around, she saw that it was indeed a beautiful spot.
“So, we here for a picnic?”
“You know — I forgot to order us a basket. But come this way…”
Jack took a path that led from the single-lane road, past the dense trees, until they reached an opening.
Sarah came beside him. The hill ended in an abrupt drop, rocky. And it gave a view across a meadow below, then the lake.
“Lady Repton’s Estate,” she said.
“Right. I knew we could see it from here. See the island?”
Down below in the valley, she could see the man in the white suit on the shore. Yellow tape fluttered around trees girding a small jetty where a rowing boat was tied up. The Scenes of Crime Officer and Alan were leaning over, looking at the boat.
“Looks from up here like they’ve found something,” Sarah said.
“Could be. I just wanted to see the whole thing. The island, the lake, the house.” He turned to her. “This is all, well, confusing.”
“What do you mean?
“What would make the mayor, wobbly as he was, get into one of the rowboats and go over to that island?”
“I know. I assumed when I left that everyone was pretty close to passing out.”
“You saw Simon just now? Rubbing his nose. Could be everyone had a bit of Colombian Marching Powder after you left.”
“Coke?”
“I'm guessing Simon certainly did. Maybe some of the others.” Jack turned and looked at her. “You know these people. That possible? Upstanding council members, sharing a line or two?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, Jack. But then — I’ve been at some parties where you’d be surprised who indulged.”
“Right. Bit of a different attitude towards that
stuff here in England, hmm?”
“Maybe — in London. But it’s still a Class A drug.”
“So the party went on. Hot tub fun, and somehow, Laurent ends up going to the island. Somehow he slips on those rocks and—”
Jack stopped.
“What is it?”
Sarah had grown to relish those moments when he stopped thinking aloud, when his eyes narrowed as if he was seeing bits of puzzle pieces fall into place.
He turned to Sarah.
“Alan said that when they pulled the body out, it was face down, yes?”
“Right.”
“And Laurent had fallen and smashed his head open.”
“Where you taking this, Jack?”
A smile. As if explaining the basics of gravity. “Y’know I've helped pull many a body out of the water. The East River is such a convenient dumping ground. And look down there, at the island, the rocks, you have to think if he stumbled.”
She got where he was going.
Of course.
“He would have fallen forward. Not back.”
“Not impossible, to fall backwards — but it’s hard to imagine.”
Then Sarah got the implications of what she and Jack were talking about. Suddenly the sunlit hill, this rocky ridge, didn’t feel so warm and inviting.
“He could have been hit from behind?”
Jack tilted his head. “Makes sense, right? I'm sure that’s what they’re thinking down there. Blow to the back of the head — always suspicious.”
Sarah turned to the shore.
The SOCO was still walking around the boat, bent over. Alan meanwhile had raced back to the police car.
Yes, they had found something.
Jack summed it up. “The mayor goes to the island for some reason we don’t have a clue about. And while he’s there, someone bashes him on the back of the skull. Slips the body into the water knowing it would look like he fell on those rocks.”
“Wait. Someone went in the boat with him?”
Jack shook his head. “No, I mean, how could they? The boat Laurent used is still there on the island. Which means they used the other boat — the one down there.”
As Sarah watched, the SOCO walked back to join Alan and the two started conferring.
They’d definitely found something interesting.
“You need to see any more, Jack?” said Sarah. “Only I ought to be getting back.”
Cherringham--The Body in the Lake Page 3
