Death Will Find Me (A Tessa Kilpatrick Mystery, Book 1)

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Death Will Find Me (A Tessa Kilpatrick Mystery, Book 1) Page 18

by Vanessa Robertson


  Everyone was making a brave attempt at glamour, trying to forget the austerity of the war years and that life was still rather grey and dull. Velvets and furs had been dusted off and the best jewels taken out of safes and banks. The younger contingent had done their best to adopt some of the more modern trends but Tessa, despite a marked lack of vanity in most situations, was pleased to see that her slithering, clinging dress was the most striking. Over by the window she glimpsed Aunt Ishbel and waved, the other responding with a smile and an approving nod as she noticed that Tessa was wearing the gown she’d sent from France.

  Tessa surveyed the room coolly, looking for friends she wished to talk to and ignoring the casual acquaintances who tried to catch her eye. They wanted to talk to the murderess, to find out about her shocking involvement with the handsome man beside her, to get a better look at that dress and make a guess at its likely cost. She didn’t plan to indulge their curiosity in any of those areas.

  ‘There’s Johnny. Let’s say hello.’ Tessa began to thread her way through the throng, then paused and turned to Bill. ‘He didn’t come back from the Front in the best state. Survived the Somme but a casualty in other ways.’

  The young man they approached was slight, with a shock of almost black hair, threaded with grey, although he wasn’t much older than Tessa. He held a glass of champagne, his fingers worrying at the stem. Although he stood on the fringes of a chattering laughing group, his face was grave and his eyes darted around the room. When he saw Tessa, he broke into a smile, clearly pleased and more than a little relieved to see her.

  ‘Darling, how are you?’ After sweeping in to kiss him on the cheek, Tessa left a reassuring hand on his arm and turned to Bill. ‘This is Johnny Haydoke. His family live in Abercromby Place and we grew up climbing trees and building dens in Queen Street Gardens. Johnny, this is Bill Henderson; we met while I was in France.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Johnny held out a hand, and Tessa was saddened to see the tremor in it. ‘It’s lovely to meet a comrade of Tessa’s.’

  ‘And good to meet one of her childhood friends. The more I hear about her youth, the less I’m surprised by her later exploits.’

  Johnny laughed, relaxing almost visibly, and proceeded to tell Bill a series of stories about their escapades. He knew so many. There was the time, aged ten, she took her father’s carriage out on the roads, allocating Johnny the role of postilion and lookout; the time they’d got inside the disused Scotland Street railway tunnel and followed it to the yards at Canonmills, picking their way through the rat-rustling darkness as the torch they had with them failed halfway; the time her parents were holidaying near Johnny’s Perthshire boarding school and fifteen year-old Tessa had climbed into the school grounds in the middle of the night with illicit bottles of beer.

  Bill had the sense to avoid stories of his or Tessa’s military service, instead telling Johnny of the tales he’d heard of her creative cooking experiments when supplies were short and random in nature, and the stray dog in Ypres that she’d taken into the cab of her ambulance, leaving it in relative safety in Calais. Watching them with half an eye while she chatted to another of the group, Tessa was delighted to see her old friend laughing, something he did rarely these days. He’d left Craiglockhart not because he had recovered but because they could do no more for him.

  ‘Tessa, my dear, how marvellous to see you.’ A voice boomed behind her and she spun round to see Henrietta Kilsyth, a school friend who had joined the FANY at the same time as Tessa. She was loud and capable and didn’t suffer fools, but she and Tessa had a deep respect for each other and a friendship forged in mud and cold and bleakness. They had run into each other occasionally as the war progressed, most memorably on a troop train from London to Edinburgh where, sitting on the floor in the corridor because there were no spare seats, they’d shared a packet of digestive biscuits and a bottle of whisky, laughing for hours as both tried to find the humour, albeit dark, in the stories they told of their recent exploits.

  ‘Hetty, how wonderful.’ The two women hugged warmly, and Henrietta leaned over and snaffled another couple of glasses from a passing waiter. Grinning, they toasted each other.

  ‘I was so sorry to hear about James. Bloody awful thing to happen.’

  ‘Thank you. I got your letter. That was kind.’

  ‘So, how are you? It’s been a few weeks now, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s strange being alone but now that I’ve moved into my own house it’s easier. I never lived there with James, so I don’t constantly expect to see him every time I walk into a room. My mother is horrified that I’ve moved from Heriot Row, of course.’

  ‘Actually, I hear from my own mama that she’s rather more horrified you’ve attempted to poach Lady Cunningham’s cook. She thinks that will put you completely beyond the social pale. It seems that stealing staff is the worst possible crime these days.’ Hetty lowered her voice by several decibels. ‘And I hear you have a rather dashing man as a houseguest?’

  ‘I do indeed.’ Tessa knew there was no point in sticking to the official line about a small hotel in Inverleith with Hetty, who had a sharp instinct for a fib. ‘He’s an old friend from the war and he’s staying in the basement flat which is completely separate from the rest of the house. Nothing improper at all.’

  ‘Really? Not even slightly improper? How dreadfully disappointing. And is he here?’

  ‘He’s just there, talking to Johnny. I’ll introduce you. Do be discreet though, as it isn’t intended to be common knowledge that he’s staying at my house.’

  ‘I’m the very soul of discretion, my love. Poor Johnny always looks so terrified of me.’

  ‘Maybe you could lower your voice? Booming at him in a bracing manner is likely to spook him.’

  After she’d introduced Hetty to Bill and left her friend regaling the two men with yet another tale of Tessa’s schooldays, she went in search of Aunt Ishbel. Johnny was looking the happiest she’d seen him in a long while and she wondered whether, given time and the right friends around him, he might one day get back to some sort of normality.

  Across the room, Ishbel was, predictably, the laughing centre of a group of old friends with a couple of hopeful-looking admirers hovering on the edge of the group. She wore a purple Vionnet dress, amethyst and diamond jewellery, and was telling scandalous anecdotes about life as the wife of an ambassador in one of the ’empire’s distant outposts.

  ‘– and that’s when the elephant walked into the ballroom.’

  Leaving everyone laughing, Ishbel approached her niece, kissing her on the cheek before looking around for a fresh glass of champagne. A footman appeared as if by magic and Ishbel helped herself to his tray, winking very slightly at the young man as she thanked him, and smiling as she saw him flush.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Tessa. These parties can be deathly, but you need to be out and about. And that dress does not deserve to be languishing in your wardrobe.’

  ‘Quite so, Aunt Ishbel. Thank you again, it’s a marvellous dress.’

  ‘It suits you. Shows off your figure without looking vulgar. Now tell me, how are you settling into your new house?’

  ‘Very well. It’s lovely and peaceful and it’s so nice to have it just as I want it.’

  ‘And of course, you don’t have your mother nagging you.’

  ‘Aunt Ishbel! Don’t be cruel. She worries about me, that’s all.’

  ‘And was your trip to Melrose useful? I heard you were going to speak to someone from James’s regiment?’

  ‘Corporal McNiven. Well yes, we went, but it was to no avail. Inspector Rasmussen is coming to Royal Circus tomorrow and we will make a new plan.’ Tessa kept her voice low, not wishing to be overheard. She leaned forward and whispered in her aunt’s ear. ‘I’m afraid he was dead when we got there. Shot.’

  ‘Goodness. You will be careful, won’t you Tessa? What happened to James was dreadful, and if that person is still running around the countryside with a gun you mig
ht be at risk.’ Ishbel’s tone was more serious now.

  ‘Of course I’ll be careful. And besides, I have Bill to keep an eye out for me.’ Tessa looked across to where he was still talking to Hetty and Johnny, the group now joined by a couple of the giddier elements of Edinburgh’s social scene. The girls, their dresses shorter than most, their lipstick redder and their hair cut into the newly fashionable bobs, looked to be hanging on Bill’s every word. Hetty looked round and caught Tessa’s eye, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head with a smile.

  Ishbel turned away, her attention claimed by a distinguished older man with striking blue eyes, and Tessa was alone in the crowd for a moment. The tumult of chatter and laughter filled her head and she realised that she’d missed this.

  Taking back control by telling James their marriage was over was the beginning of reclaiming herself and Tessa would always be sorry that it had taken James’s death for her to complete the process, but now she felt more like the woman she used to be. Once again, she was someone who laughed and told jokes and enjoyed the company of others, not shying away from being the centre of attention. She was no longer someone who felt that happiness was a privilege enjoyed by others.

  ‘Tessa? I mean, Lady Kilpatrick. May we speak?’

  Turning sharply at the voice at her elbow, Tessa saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar although she couldn’t place her precisely. Maybe they’d met at one of those interminable weekend parties. The woman was a couple of years older than herself with a neat bob and a beaded dress, hair and hemline London-short. She was unsmiling, worried-looking even, and her manner was more agitated than any of the others in the room; even Lord Inverie who’d last been seen turning off what he considered to be unnecessary electric lights and tut-tutting about the quantities of champagne being drunk.

  ‘Just Tessa is perfectly all right. How may I help?’

  ‘Not now. Not here. People might—’ The woman looked around, a little agitated. ‘May I call on you at home?’

  ‘Well yes, I suppose so. I’m sorry, I’m terrible at remembering names. Have we met?’

  ‘A couple of times, that’s all. Will you be at home tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid I don’t have a card with the address. My house is in Royal Circus.’

  ‘I know which house it is. I’ll see you tomorrow. About three?’ Tessa nodded and the dark-haired woman dashed away. Tessa followed her to the landing, watching her hurry downstairs, practically snatching her coat from the footman and racing out into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As she returned to her friends, it struck Tessa as somewhat odd that the woman had already known where she lived. She wondered whether the anonymous note was anything to do with her. It would be good to find out what that was all about.

  Promptly forgetting about the rather odd exchange as she slipped back into the crowd in search of her friends, Tessa was delighted to see Bill, Hetty and Johnny were still laughing and talking, and pleased to find that the subject matter had moved on from her misadventures.

  ‘Darling, you’re back,’ grinned Hetty. ‘I’ve completely run out of scurrilous tales to tell Bill. Well, ones that I dare tell him at any rate!’ She took yet more champagne from a passing footman’s tray. Tessa recalled how good Hetty had always been at summoning anything from waiters to cabs.

  ‘Does this mean that I get to tell tales about you and Johnny now?’ Tessa asked, pleased to see Johnny laugh, just a little.

  ‘Not likely,’ he said. ‘Most of my recent exploits have been rather dismal. Not much to joke about.’ Tessa saw Hetty squeeze his hand.

  ‘Quite. But you seem a lot better now.’

  ‘It’s good to see old friends. Reminds me that life can be happier and that the worst of times are behind us.’

  ‘It’s good for all of us. We have a future ahead that we need to seize. And we should see more of you,’ said Tessa. ‘Come to dinner soon. You too, Hetty. Just the four of us. When I have a cook that it is, unless you want egg and bacon. Mama has equipped me with everything a cook could possibly want, but I only really know how to use a frying pan.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ Johnny looked pleased at the thought.

  ‘Marvellous. I’ll look at my diary and write. But both of you, any time you’re passing, do call in. Especially you, Johnny, if you ever need to talk to someone or just have company, do come to the house. You’re always very welcome.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘I’m terribly tired. I hope you don’t mind if I go home. Bill, do stay if you’d like to.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m feeling quite weary myself.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Hetty gave them both an old-fashioned look. ‘You two dears get home to your Ovaltine and slippers then.’

  Walking home, Tessa took Bill’s arm. The evening was bright and cold, stars glittering above them and reflected in the early frost forming on puddles.

  ‘I like your friends. I was worried that you only knew people like James.’ Bill said, squeezing her arm.

  ‘No fear. Hetty and Johnny are lovely. Hetty’s a lot like you in some ways.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Stalwart. No matter what, she’d always back you up. In a tight spot, you’d never look round and find she’d done a runner.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was so good to see Johnny laughing. I never thought I’d see that again. I used to visit him in the hospital and it was so depressing. So many broken men, some who’ll never be well again. I hope Johnny makes it out of the other side of his darkness.’

  ‘Friends help.’

  ‘I know. James didn’t like many of my friends and I rather think I may have let them down. I’ve learnt my lesson. Dinner with them both will be fun, won’t it?’

  ‘I think so. And just what Johnny needs – to be around people who won’t see him as an object of pity or a burden, but people who are his comrades and understand how he’s feeling.’

  ‘It’s helped me enormously having you here. You understand my past and it’s helped me to face up to the future.’

  ‘I live to serve.’

  ‘You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.’ Tessa stopped and turned to him, her eyes bright. There was a moment where their eyes met, Tessa’s height meaning that hers were almost level with Bill’s. She wanted to lean forward and kiss him very much, but she also knew that would complicate life terribly at the moment and so, with great strength of will, she smiled brightly and turned to start walking again.

  Arm in arm, they strolled the half mile home, Tessa taking care not to turn an elegantly shod foot on the steep cobbles of Doune Terrace. They spoke no more, Tessa lost in her own thoughts of what might have been and what might yet still be and enjoying the peace that Bill brought to her life.

  That peace fell away abruptly as they turned the corner into Royal Circus. Instead of the quiet road with darkened houses and perhaps the odd fox racing across the road to its den in the gardens, many windows blazed with light, shutters and curtains thrown open. A knot of people, neighbours in their pyjamas, were standing outside her house, Florence was on the steps in her dressing gown looking tearful and alarmed, and a policemen was hurrying towards the house from the opposite end of the crescent. Whatever had happened had been recent; doors were still being opened as more neighbours were drawn outside by concern and curiosity.

  Tessa and Bill quickened their pace, calling out to the bystanders to ask what had happened. While Bill stopped to talk to the people who lived next door, Tessa threaded her way between people towards Florence.

  ‘What’s happened? Are you all right? What—?’ Her voice tailed off as she saw the gaping hole in one of the dining room windows and the splintered glazing bars.

  ‘You said not to wait up and so I’d gone to bed and then I heard this terrible crash. I didn’t know if someone was in the house, so I took the poker and came down to see and there was a draught coming from the dining room. Someone threw a brick through the window.’ Florence start
ed to tremble as she recounted the story. ‘When I came outside, Mr Fordyce was on his step and he went to telephone the police.’ Tessa looked over her shoulder and nodded to her neighbour. ‘Miss Tessa, who could have done this?’ Florence started to weep, shock sinking in.

  ‘I don’t know, Florence. Not yet.’ Tessa put an arm around her maid’s shivering shoulders. ‘Let’s go inside and make some tea. There’s no point standing out here. We can as easily talk to the policeman in the morning room.’

  Bill thanked the neighbours for their concern and encouraged them to go home, assuring the nosier and the more agitated that he would update them in the morning. The constable also reassured them that there was no need to be alarmed but to make sure their doors were secured, just to be on the safe side. It crossed Tessa’s mind that this was not the work of a burglar, for who would try to gain access by breaking a window with such a long drop below it into the basement area? None of the neighbours had contributed anything useful, although Mrs Andrews from two doors along claimed to have seen a man lurking in the shadows when she’d looked out. Given that she was blind as a bat, Tessa didn’t place a lot of store by that.

  Inside, Bill went downstairs to make tea and Tessa left Florence with the constable to recount her story again. She went into the dining room, switching on the light and taking care to avoid the shards of glass that littered the polished floor.

  On the dining table, its path having left deep scratches, sat the house brick that had caused this mess. Tessa looked at the window, some ten feet from the table. Whoever had thrown the brick hadn’t been hesitant: to travel this far there must have been quite some effort behind it.

 

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