The Art of Murder (Harriet Quigley Mystery) Page 12

  ‘We’ve got a couple of hours so I’m in two minds as to whether I’ll nip home and feed the cats,’ Sam was frowning. ‘In fact,’ he enlarged on his idea, ‘why don’t we just get the hell out of here? We’ve paid in full and the art group won’t incur any charges so we’ve fulfilled our part of the agreement.’

  ‘You know the kids from the farm have keys to both our houses.’ Sam made a face when he caught a stern blue gaze from his cousin who added: ‘The cats will be fine and we’re not bailing out now; it would be unfair to Fiona.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Sam sighed. ‘I just want to escape. Tell you what, we could take our lunch down to Wolvesey Castle. The ruins will suit my mood – ‘change and decay’ and so forth – and we can picnic there then grab a coffee elsewhere. Breakfast was ruined by that palaver with Seren, and even though I sympathised, I relish my Full English when I’m away.’

  ‘Okay,’ she nodded and headed towards the stairs. ‘I’d better at least change out of this grubby top. You collect some lunch and we’ll make a quick getaway.’

  Five minutes later she found Sam champing at the bit.

  ‘What kept you?’

  Harriet said nothing as she shut the garden gate then, away from the tense atmosphere indoors, she scuttled along in the wake of Sam’s haughty, indignant stride. She was mildly amused but also impressed. His temperament was equable and he rarely raised his voice, so although his earlier protest had been muted because of the other people milling around, she could tell he was seriously annoyed.

  Well, she thought with a philosophical shrug, I’m fairly annoyed myself and Sam’s right: it’s a relief to get away. Sam was never in a mood for long and he slowed his pace with a slight grin as he registered that even Harriet’s long legs were having trouble keeping up with him.

  ‘I was waylaid,’ she explained peaceably as they slowed down to a stroll along the sunlit road towards the heart of the city. ‘Donald wanted ideas as to where he and Madeleine could go for a gentle stroll. I told him to keep their crusts and go and feed the ducks. He seems to have got over Linzi’s comment which, though appallingly rude, was actually quite true. He does look tons better and younger without his whiskers. I’m glad he and Madeleine have palled up. I don’t know her apart from the odd word in the village shop but she seems fragile so it’s nice for her to be looked after, and Donald is clearly happy to do so.’

  ‘Are you match-making, Harriet?’ The affectionate amusement in Sam’s voice told her he had emerged from his testy fit and was back on track: ‘If that’s your game, what about Seren and Tim the solicitor? They’re sticking together, I’ve noticed.’

  ‘If you must know I sent those two up to the Great Hall to see the Round Table, and told them to be sure and explore Queen Eleanor’s mediaeval garden there. Anyway, why shouldn’t they take an interest in each other?’ She shot him a wry grin. ‘I’ve given up on the theory that Seren’s a fantasist; she seems too decent. Maybe she genuinely slipped on the stairs and in the confusion thought she’d been pushed. Anyway, they’re both new to the area and available too, from what I’ve heard.’ Harriet was philosophical. ‘Besides, I like people to be happy.’

  ‘Didn’t work out for you though, did it, Old Hat?’ he said tentatively, knowing how reticent she was about her own emotions.

  ‘Maybe not,’ she shrugged after a startled glance at him. They rarely ventured into private matters but Sam often noticed more than she realised. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t want other people to have it all. Anyway,’ she tucked a friendly hand into his arm for a moment, ‘I’m happy enough, life’s good now.’

  As they passed the road leading to the pub, she released his arm and pondered his remark. Happy? Well, happy enough. She pictured the path she’d imagined for herself but it hadn’t turned out that way. Love, a man, a baby; she lifted the lid on her memories for a moment. She had loved the man very deeply, there was no point in denying it, but he wasn’t hers for the taking; already spoken for, with a young family and tortured by guilt. As for the baby, nature had taken its course and at the time she had felt relief; it was only during the past year that she had finally found herself grieving over that loss.

  In the odd way of coincidences she’d heard only six months ago, after that bout of long-delayed grief, that he had died of cancer and although the anguish of that love had long since diminished, there was still sorrow for a life taken too soon.

  Nonsense, she told herself, this won’t do. There had been other men, nothing serious and not for a while, but she was happy enough now.

  ‘It’s great news about Charlie and Jake and the baby,’ she said, remembering. ‘If they need somewhere to live locally while they’re house-hunting you could lend them your place for a while and move in with me.’

  Happily making plans they walked past the house where Jane Austen died, and the entrance to Winchester College, and arrived at the gaunt ruins of Wolvesey Castle, a few yards from the tumbling river Itchen.

  ‘I’ve always been rather impressed by Bishop Henry of Blois,’ Sam mused as they skirted the foundations of the bishop’s castle beneath walls with gaping windows, and crossed a green courtyard to a timber picnic table and benches. ‘He was a great power in the land and formidably intelligent. I’ve often thought it was a pity he wasn’t the elder brother instead of King Stephen.’

  ‘Probably got his brains from his grandfather, the Conqueror.’ Harriet was dusting off the table and setting out the wraps and paper napkins.

  Sam ate slowly and felt his tense shoulders settle more comfortably. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on at that house, Harriet? I heard the screams, the same as everyone else, but I’m not sure I believe a woman as tough as Linzi is terrified of wasps.’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t like wasps, myself.’ Harriet outlined the latest drama at Tadema Lodge. ‘She’s refusing to tell the police about this latest effort and about the ex-husband, even though Fiona pointed out it must be Eve’s decision.’

  ‘It’s all so petty.’ Sam foraged in his picnic bag. ‘Niggly things, pin pricks, silent calls, empty envelopes, maybe a stalker in a hoodie – and that’s a stereotype for a start.’ He stared across to where Henry of Blois had thoughtfully built a latrine block for his guests. ‘Now it’s a basinful of dead wasps and of all things half a wasp that may or may not have been inadvertently swallowed. I agree with your diagnosis though: I’m damned sure I’d notice if I swallowed half a wasp, even if it was too late to sick it up.

  ‘It’s bonkers. Who goes around with a pocket full of wasps in case of need? I know Eve mentioned they’ve got wasps’ nests at the house but surely it would be tricky to collect them without being seen? I’m not minimising the potential threat,’ he said indistinctly, through his ham salad wrap. ‘Pushing someone into the river is malicious and downright dangerous and it could turn even nastier. I do realise that it’s all shaping up to be pretty vicious but does it strike you that Linzi is enjoying all this drama?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ Harriet made a face. ‘Part of her certainly likes the attention – Fiona dancing attendance, worrying about her and so on. Trouble is – I don’t know that I’m entirely convinced by the tale of the vengeful husband after his ill-gotten gains. As you say, Sam, it’s all very dramatic, but she’s definitely scared. I’d put money on that, but then …’ a shadow crossed her face for a moment ‘…if I were doing these things unconsciously and coming to, maybe after a blackout or a petit mal, and realising what I’d done, I’d be even more frightened for my own sanity.’

  Sam was silent for a moment then reluctantly offered: ‘Would Fiona like me to speak to Linzi? Maybe she’d talk to a man?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Linzi swore she’d deny everything if we mentioned it.’ She finished her lunch and Sam pulled an apple out of his pocket and leaned back against a convenient fragment of stone wall. The late September sun shone down and he could see that Harriet, her face lifted heavenward to catch the warmth, was gradually relaxin
g and looking less frazzled, so his escape plan had been a success. Well, he had to admit to himself, it was partly a ruse and partly exasperation at being inveigled into the whole messy business.

  ‘I’m wondering if I know anyone who could check out the errant husband,’ he said, looking thoughtful.

  Harriet sat up straight. ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ she murmured, then sank back, shaking her head. ‘Why should we bother? We’ll be out of the place tomorrow and after that these people will just be casual acquaintances.’ He looked unconvinced. ‘No, Sam, even if you rang the Chief Constable, what would you say? He’d dismiss you as being a nosy parker unless you explained about the stalking and that’s not our secret. As it is, Fiona was told in confidence which she later broke and told me, then I spilled the beans to you, so morally we’re on dodgy ground. Linzi says she’s reported it so it’ll be on file with a case number. I don’t see what else we can do.’ She shook her head again. ‘Or that we’d have a leg to stand on,’ she added.

  ‘You’re right, of course.’ Sam raised his hand, about to throw his apple core across the grass, then guiltily stowed it tidily into the sandwich-wrapping and loped over to a rubbish bin. ‘Okay, let’s consider the alternative. Your suggestion is that the avenging husband is either a myth or a red herring? Based on what – a gut feeling reinforced by Fiona’s initial suspicion that the whole thing is some game that Linzi is playing?’

  ‘I’m still sceptical about the husband. It seems such a glib explanation, but game or not, Linzi is clearly scared. I think we have to assume that the tricks are genuine and spooky enough to frighten the living daylights out of her.’

  Harriet reviewed the incidents as told her by Fiona and those she had witnessed herself. ‘The thing is, Sam, if Linzi’s stalker is a bald man it’s not anyone on the painting weekend. Eve is on the alert all the time, quietly watchful so I don’t see how a stranger could get in to the house, still less know exactly which room Linzi was in. Or faff around with wasps and writing on mirrors.’ She thought about it. ‘I wonder if the bald man was just some innocent passer-by, Linzi’s so wound up she’d jump if a leaf dropped beside her.’ She leaned her elbows on the table and sighed.

  ‘I don’t like the way things have happened here. If we accept that Linzi isn’t the one playing tricks, deliberately or otherwise, you have to wonder whether someone in this house is up to something criminal.’

  He considered her idea for a moment or two. ‘Which of them do you have in the frame? And why would someone do such a thing? I go along with what you say, that Linzi might not be so attractive on closer acquaintance, though she’s been nothing but charming to me, but even so … we’re reluctantly shackled to these people for another 24 hours, so which of them, do we think, is sufficiently unpleasant or criminally-inclined to mount a concerted attack?’

  Harriet heaved another sigh and tried to recapture the warmth and peace of the sunlit ruins but the world insisted on encroaching. ‘All right, let’s start with the Art Group organisers, Fiona, Jess and Nina.’

  ‘Can’t see Fiona being malicious,’ Sam put in. ‘She’s too well balanced and besides, you’ve known her for years. What could she have against Linzi anyway?’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Harriet’s eyes snapped open. ‘Thomas, her youngest, has had a huge crush on Linzi. He fell for her at the village barbecue and spent the summer hanging round her like a puppy, washing her car, weeding the garden, taking her flowers, that kind of thing. Fiona was very sharp when Jess mentioned it. I’ve never seen her so cross.’

  ‘Thomas? He must be what, 18?’ Sam was philosophical. ‘It’s a rite of passage for a boy that age, sophisticated older woman. I wouldn’t worry.’ He looked smugly reminiscent until he caught his cousin glaring at him. ‘Fiona might be fed up,’ he suggested, ‘but for goodness’ sake, she’s got two older boys; she must have been through it all before. I doubt if she’d react by doing something spiteful.’

  He frowned. ‘It’s a long shot – and don’t you dare repeat this – if he’d caught an STD, Fiona would be up in arms, but that’s unfounded speculation. You said Linzi’s a seducer, not a nymphomaniac. Who’s next, Jess?’ He broke off, a grin replacing his distaste at his own grubby suggestion. ‘What could she do, anyway? Smite someone with an iambic pentameter? Or something Arthurian – swing a Morningstar round her head and chuck it at Linzi?’

  ‘I’d have said there was nothing,’ Harriet said, her reluctant smile at the image vanishing as her forehead creased in a frown. ‘Not when I saw Jess at Fiona’s, but yesterday she was tense, and there’s definitely something about Linzi that’s disturbing her now. I know she joked about her husband disappearing whenever Linzi hove in sight, but I’d begun to wonder if perhaps he’d stopped running, until last night, that was ...’

  ‘What’s her husband’s job?’

  ‘Some kind of Planning thing, I believe, but listen, Sam,’ Harriet pursed her lips and gave him a quick run-down of the conversation she had overheard, ‘maybe there’s scope there, in Bill’s job, something dodgy that Linzi’s found out about?’

  ‘Mmm, tenuous, I should think. It’s disturbing, this suggestion that Jess’s husband might be open to having his palm greased, but as for building close to the cathedral, that’s never going to be allowed, not nowadays. It’s not adding up to anything you can get your teeth into, is it?’ Sam watched a late bumblebee foraging in the clover near his feet. ‘You say that before yesterday Jess was merely irritated by Linzi?’

  Harriet nodded and he went on: ‘Nina now. Even I can see she’s got it in for Linzi, but is she normally the spiteful type?’

  ‘I barely know her, certainly not well enough to pronounce on that.’ Harriet was getting tired of the discussion. ‘I imagine she’s extremely unhappy and on present showing she’s certainly got a malicious streak that might carry her farther.’

  ‘Right, that’s the committee.’ Sam pressed on, partly out of curiosity and mostly to stop Harriet bottling up her anxieties. He knew that despite the tough façade, she was prone to migraines when she was under stress. ‘Who else – the teacher, Donald? I’m sure I’ve come across him in the past; it’ll come to me eventually.

  ‘I like him. He’s down-at-heel but he’s very eager to make a success of this weekend, presumably because he sees it as a gateway to further teaching opportunities. I don’t say I’d sign up to his classes but he’s managing a disparate group of people very well. He’s also,’ Sam nodded with approval, ‘keeping a tight rein on what’s clearly an ever-present drink problem. I admire that; it takes a lot of strength and self-discipline.’

  ‘Linzi unnerves him,’ Harriet put in. ‘Not just today’s sniping at his beard, which was really catty, though he bravely made a joke of it. From what Fiona’s told me Linzi’s style is usually more subtle and she always comes out smelling of roses. Until today I think there’s just been a spot of emotional blackmail – a kind of ‘remember you owe this chance to me’ kind of thing.’

  ‘Blackmail? Not for money surely? She’s supposed to be loaded.’ Sam frowned. ‘It must be power that she’s after. I loathe that kind of thing – manipulating another human being to do your will. It disgusts me.’

  Dear Sam, Harriet glanced at him fondly. Always so keen to champion the underdog but equally determined that right must be done and that the only way to reach any personal salvation was to behave in a civilised manner. Sam was by nature a problem-solver, an engineer by training, and his belief that everything must have an order was deeply ingrained. It was only when order, in the form of self-discipline, was in place, she suspected, that Sam believed any kind of spiritual grace would be attained. Rather in the same way, she decided with an inward smile, that he tidied his house and made it ready when he expected a visitor, as though an untidy mind, like an untidy house, was an insult to a guest, whether human or divine. Harriet knew that her own house and mind held considerably more clutter.

  ‘We’ve already talked about Donald and Madeleine joining forces,’ she remi
nded him. ‘Whether it’s a potential romance, I’ve no idea, but there’s kindness between them and some sort of alliance forming and that’s all to the good. I don’t know Madeleine’s story but she’s another who is down on her luck and evidently trying to pull herself up by her boot-strings. She and Donald have a lot in common, including the problem with drink, so perhaps they’ll be able to help each other. It’s got to be easier together.’

  She thought about the hours she had spent at Tadema Lodge. ‘Linzi gets Madeleine trotting round after her,’ she said. ‘That could mean Linzi is a bully, which she is, though according to Fiona it’s passive-aggressive bullying, a ‘poor little me’ kind of thing. Maybe she’s threatening to let slip some dark secret there?’

  ‘If you say so. What about Tim? He’s another who’s uncomfortable round Linzi, but I’ve not noticed them in conversation so it could be mutual dislike on a slight acquaintance. What about Serena – no it’s Seren, isn’t it? It’s plain that she’s unsettled by Linzi but I wouldn’t have said she’s manifested any sign of spitefulness, so far.’ Sam sighed and rose to his feet. ‘I need coffee,’ he yawned, reaching out a hand to haul her up. ‘We can go on with our cataloguing as we walk.’

  ‘That’s reminded me,’ Harriet halted for a moment then walked on.’I can’t for the life of me understand why I thought it was a woman with reddish hair lying at the bottom of the stairs this morning, when Seren fell, or was pushed. Her hair isn’t red at all, it’s an unusual mixture of blonde and brown, the exact colour of the oak doors in my kitchen.’

  ‘Can’t say I noticed,’ Sam grunted. ‘Could it be the lighting on the landing?’

  ‘What about Bonnie Mercer?’ Harriet shelved the slight puzzle and cocked an eyebrow at him as she led the way to the left, along the river and back into the town. ‘You’ve had dealings with her and, from what you’ve said, she can be a nuisance but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s malicious. She’s very quiet and she strikes me as rather sad, but she’s only here as a last-minute substitute. Besides, you’re the only person she seems to have known before.’