Part 14 (1/2)
”A bit like you and Charley,” Anthony told Yvette waspishly. ”You two are inseparable. Every time a crime is committed in this house, you always seem to be conveniently together-and absent.”
”What's that supposed to mean?”
”It means you can never be accounted for.”
”We were outside building a snowman this afternoon. Apart from that we were with other people.”
”Look, we're all a bit rattled,” Patrick jumped in. ”None of us is above suspicion.”
An uncomfortable silence spread across the table.
Clifford brought the dog into the room, creating a welcome diversion. ”Young Rex 'ere to see you,” he announced. ”Eh taught 'im to raise 'is paw.” Lowering his back in a series of jerks, the old man added a log to the fire.
”Here boy!” Charley called, holding out a piece of salmon.
”This will go down in the annals as one of the most surreal Christmases I ever spent,” Anthony remarked.
”And to think I could have gone to Aviemore,” Helen said. ”Then Wanda would never have come here and she'd still be alive.”
Rex reached out his hand to comfort her.
”D'you think Clifford knows about the murders?” Patrick asked Rex when the old man left. ”He's pretty deaf, isn't he? Probably doesn't catch much.”
”Mrs. Smithings wanted to keep it from the staff.”
”Ha!” Anthony replied with derision. ”She acts as though nothing's amiss. She was tinkling away on her pianoforte all morning. A bit like Nero sawing on his fiddle while Rome burned, if you ask me.”
Patrick p.r.o.nged the lemon with his fork. ”It's creepy, that's all. Three murders, all by different methods. Who's next?”
”There's something you're not telling us about how Lawdry died, isn't there?” Anthony asked Rex.
”I didn't want to alarm you.”
”Alarm us! You must be joking.”
”We couldn't be more alarmed,” Patrick explained. ”We just want the truth. I mean, it might be safer for us if we left.”
”You and Helen made it as far as the village today,” Yvette added, addressing Rex.
”We skied,” Helen replied. ”And anyway it's dark now.” She had barely touched her food, Rex noticed. ”Besides, none of us can leave until the police get here. They'll want to question everyone.”
”There may not be any of us left by then,” Anthony objected. ”Why should we stick around?”
Rex really had no answer to that. ”Look. I think I may know what's going on, but there are pieces that don't fit into the puzzle. If I'm right, there won't be any more murders as long as n.o.body meddles. I think that's what happened to Wanda.”
”Wanda was murdered because she tried to solve the case?” Patrick asked.
”It was more a case of her stumbling onto something.”
”What?”
”I can't tell you that for now. But once I have all the pieces, I will, I promise.”
”In the meantime, can you tell us who you think did it?” Anthony insisted. ”At least tell us if it's one of us or not.”
”I have what I term 'valid a.s.sumptions,' mostly arrived at by the process of elimination, but I need proof.”
”Doesn't sound all that rea.s.suring to me. What do you have to say for yourself, Charley? You're not usually so quiet.”
”Well, apart from this whole thing putting a kybosh on my honeymoon, I'm just as stressed as the next person. But I think we should trust Rex's judgment.”
”Me too,” Helen said, and Rex inwardly thanked them for their loyalty.
After dinner, when the other guests were occupied in the drawing room, Rex retired to the library. Two oil paintings hung in the room: a landscape of a mill, after the Constable school, and the bowl of mellow fruit he'd contemplated the previous afternoon while waiting to ask Yvette about the cameo. Wanda had been looking for the brooch when she opened the safe. She'd spied on Mrs. Smithings standing by one of the paintings. Rex deplored the owner's lack of foresight. Anyone with a master key had access to the safe if they knew where it was located.
Wanda must have been at the door when she saw the owner, in which case the safe had to be behind the still life, since the other picture was on the opposite wall and not visible from the door. He closed it behind him and crossed to the built-in bookshelf. The painting would not lift off the wall. Nor was there enough s.p.a.ce among the shelves for it to slide in any direction. He felt around the frame for a hinge. If Mrs. Smithings had not seen Wanda, the painting must swing out to the left-like so. He inserted the key in the iron safe hidden behind it and opened the door.
Inside he found a master key, an a.s.sortment of stationery, and a locked jewelry box. Mrs. Smithings presumably kept the key to that somewhere else-not that someone couldn't just run off with the box. Another dreadful oversight. She must be getting senile.
Sorting through folders containing various deeds, he came across a business-size, creamy white envelope in which was folded the owner's will dated three months ago. He scanned the pages and saw that Mrs. Smithings was leaving Swanmere estate, lock, stock and barrel, to Rosie Porter, along with small bequeaths to various staff, and her pearls to his mother. Rex locked the safe and put the painting back in its place.
A rap sounded at the library door.
”Come in!” he called.
Helen appeared. ”I hope I'm not disturbing you.”
”It's all right, la.s.sie. Did you need anything?”
”It's just that I ... I can't sleep with Wanda lying dead in the next room,” she said in a rush, a s.h.i.+mmer of tears in her eyes. ”Can I stay in your room? I wouldn't feel safe anywhere else. No hanky-panky, I promise.”
He acquiesced with a gentle nod and put an arm around her shoulders. Her tears seemed real enough. ”Wanda must have meant a great deal to you.”
”I feel bad because when I left her the note this morning I was having petty thoughts about how I wasn't going to let her spoil my outing with you. I was glad she was sleeping late so I didn't have to include her in my plans.”
”It's the grief that's making you feel overly guilty.”
”You're right, and that's what I'd be telling someone if the roles were reversed, only it's not easy to be rational when it's you in the middle of it.”
”I know. When Fiona died I blamed myself for all the flowers I should have bought her.”
Helen sighed tremulously. ”What a b.l.o.o.d.y awful Christmas.”
”Where are the others?”
”In the drawing room. It's like we're all scared to leave. I had Charley escort me here. You trust Charley, don't you?”
Rex hesitated. He didn't like what he'd just found out. He recalled Wanda hinting in her diary at something going on between Rosie and Charley. Rosie was an alluring young woman who'd been left a sizeable inheritance. Charley was faced with gambling debts and the prospect of living at his in-laws with a baby he'd not planned for. Had Rosie told him about her good fortune? Did she even know?
”I'd like to think you're safe with him,” Rex hedged. Helen was standing so close he could feel her warmth. Her face lifted toward his in slow motion. He blinked and turned away, clearing his throat. ”I'll take you upstairs,” he said. ”I'm finished here.”