02 - Flight of Fancy (15 page)

Tommy was teasing but the joke
made Clara pause anyway.

“Even the best of us can
falter.” She replied with a smirk, but deep down she knew something else was
stirring.

Colonel Brandt looked a decade
older as he lounged in a rocking chair in the club gardens. There was a glass
of whisky in his hand, though it wasn’t yet ten o’clock. Clara found him easily
enough; he was the only soul around.

“Hello.” Brandt glanced up,
“Who let you in then?”

“The butler’s back was turned,
I really couldn’t be bothered with him today. The place is empty anyway.”

“Yes, only us old men get up
this early. I’m nursing the same headache I tried to drown out the night before
with alcohol.” Brandt waved his glass, “I fear I’m failing.”

Clara found a garden chair and
drew it next to the colonel. He seemed tired and weary, his hand had a distinct
shake to it.

“Are you up for answering some
questions?” She asked, “I think this will be the last time I need to bother
you.”

“So you are close?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead then, ask what you
need.”

Clara composed herself, she had
to be tactful and refrain from stirring up the colonel’s suspicions. In that
case, she suspected she would have to be devious.

“The cigars.”

“Yes.”

“They were fine.” Clara lied,
“They were a dead end. Why anyone ever threw them in that concrete…”

Clara let the sentence hang in
the air, as she expected the colonel filled the space.

“Florence always hated cigars.
I think she threw them in. I thought that the moment I saw them. Do you know
how she hated Oscar for sending that box to Goddard? It was palpable.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Florence was convinced smoking
cigars weakened Goddard’s heart. The doctor said it was harmless, but Florence
was certain. She said the way Goddard coughed after smoking one was awful and
sometimes he would feel pains in his chest. She confided this in me because she
was scared. I never knew why she was so frightened.”

“Goddard’s doctor had diagnosed
him with a weak heart.” Clara interposed.

“Really? He never told me.” The
colonel tutted, “He always was so secretive. No wonder Florence was so
worried.”

“Did she ever try to stop him
smoking?”

“Oh yes, she refused to let him
spend money on expensive cigars thinking he would hate the cheaper ones but,
well, he didn’t. And she made him smoke outside, another one of her tricks to
try and persuade him to give up, she knew if she confronted him head on he would
become defensive and start smoking in secret. That would have been even worse.
As it was she could just about control his smoking.”

“So Oscar’s bequest would have
stung.”

“Immensely, in fact she was
furious. She told me so, we were at the stage when she confided in me a lot
because she was so worried. She wanted to be rid of the things, but she
couldn’t think how. She even tried to persuade me to take them. She thought I
could somehow conjure up a way to make Goddard give them to me. I refused, it
was absurd.”

Clara briefly closed her eyes,
unnerved by how close Colonel Brandt had come to his own end.

“Colonel,” She phrased her next
question carefully, “What was Florence’s opinion of Oscar O’Harris, or rather,
did they get along?”

The colonel considered the
question carefully.

“I’m afraid they didn’t, get
along that is. Florence did not exactly hate Oscar, but she disapproved of him.
She thought he was a wastrel and when he married Susan, well…”

“She never knew of the affair,
did she?”

“I can’t say for certain, but
Goddard was not a man for confessing his soul to anyone. That he told me was
remarkable in itself. She may have suspected, perhaps, but I never saw any sign
of it.”

“And Oscar, did he respond to
Florence’s disapproval with his own?”

“He hardly visited in the last
few years of his life. When he did it was usually at Christmas. After Susan
died I think he was asked a few times, for family’s sake, but he rarely
actually went. He wrote to Goddard often enough, that was about their only
correspondence. I’ve been there on a cold Christmas morning when the atmosphere
inside the house between Florence and Oscar was as chilly as the breeze blowing
outside. Do you know, it almost occurred to me that Oscar sent those cigars to
spite Florence! It would be his style, he did all he could to snipe at her and
spoil anything she had arranged when he visited.”

Clara mused on the different
perspectives people could have on the same matter. Captain O’Harris thought his
father had sent the cigars out of the kindness of his heart, because of his
fondness for his brother, the colonel thought it was because he wanted to spite
Florence by playing on her concerns and Clara now knew he had sent them to kill
his brother.

“I have to ask one last thing
colonel, and I beg you to be entirely honest with me, for the captain’s
wellbeing is staked on this.”

“You do sound serious Miss
Fitzgerald.”

Clara could hardly express the
terrible dread that was building as Saturday approached within her, she was
sure the answer she gave Captain O’Harris would impact on his flight.

“In your opinion could Florence
ever work with Oscar to the detriment of Goddard?”

For an instant the colonel
looked stunned, then he laughed so hard he spilt some of his whisky.

“Bless you, I have needed such
a good joke for days.” The colonel dabbed tears from his eyes with a
handkerchief, “Florence would neither write to Oscar or speak to him unless she
had to. Honestly the woman despised him. When he died she came close to
refusing to go to the funeral, but Goddard reminded her it would look
dreadfully bad and you know how Florence felt about that. In some ways I think
she wished it could have been different, but it never was. As for conspiring
together? You might as well suggest the Kaiser work with Lloyd George!”

The colonel smiled as he
drained his whisky.

“Oh Miss Fitzgerald these last
few days have been Hell.”

“Then it is high time I told
you Florence O’Harris did not kill her husband.”

Brandt looked at her sharply.

“Truly?”

“Truly, she had motive enough,
mind you. An unconsummated marriage, the coldness of her husband, the despair
of being betrayed by the first man she loved, her cousin, and marrying Goddard
instead. The affair between Susan and Goddard, if she had known, but despite
all that I think she genuinely cared for her husband and grieved his loss.”

“Yes, yes I do too. But, do you
know who did kill him?”

Clara looked away from the
colonel staring across the grass and newly flowering pansies.

“Oscar O’Harris killed his
brother. The cigars, they were poisoned.”

Colonel Brandt sank a little in
his chair, some weight appeared to lift off him, but his eyes watered.

“Because of John O’Harris?”

“Yes. He could not forgive his
brother for having an affair with his wife and producing the son he could not.”

There was another long silence.

“You said the cigars were
harmless.”

“I know, I didn’t want news
they were poisoned to taint what you said about Florence’s feelings on Goddard’s
smoking habit.”

“You thought I might lie?”
Brandt was hurt.

“No. But we can unconsciously adjust
the truth when we feel the need. You might have felt the need to protect
Florence.”

Brandt let out a long sigh.

“Then it is all over, except
for locating Goddard’s grave. Still no luck?”

“I’m working on it, but at
least I have an answer for Captain O’Harris.”

The colonel nodded.

“I’m sorry the truth could not
bring them back.” Clara reached over for his hand, it was cold beneath her
fingers. She squeezed it.

“Don’t worry about that.” The
colonel gave her a stoical smile, “Us army souls are made of tough stuff.”

“I hope so colonel Brandt, as I
expect you to come for dinner on Saturday night.”

The colonel started to stutter,
not knowing what to say, but before he could refuse Clara was on her feet and
leaving.

“I shall be all on my own on
Saturday and I could use a friend. I consider you a friend and as such I shall
expect you for dinner. We dine at six.”

The colonel was still
stammering and stuttering as she left.

Tommy was sitting up the
parlour table when she got home. He tossed a letter towards her.

“It came a few moments ago.”

Clara picked up the envelope
and looked at the scrawled handwriting on the back, Miss Fitzgerald was carved
into the paper in large letters.

“Another threat.” Clara sighed
and disposed of her gloves before she opened the letter. Inside was a slip of
thick greasy paper with a familiar message.

“Back off, let the dead rest!”

She showed it to Tommy.

“This gets even more bizarre.
The killer is dead, who on earth could be writing this?”

“You are overlooking the fact
that Oscar must have had an accomplice. Ghosts can’t steal and hide bodies, but
someone moved Goddard.”

“And this accomplice is still
alive.”

“It appears so.”

“Well, the crime is solved.
They have no reason to disturb you further since you won’t be poking around any
longer.”

“On the contrary,” Clara put
the letter neatly in her handbag, “I still have a body to find.”

Tommy glared at her.

“Why? You solved it, why stir
up more trouble from whoever it is writing these notes.”

“Because Goddard O’Harris is
lying somewhere in an unmarked grave. He deserves a Christian burial and no
troublemaker will stop me doing that.”

On Friday afternoon Clara
escorted Tommy to O’Harris’ house. They were warmly welcomed and ushered into
the drawing room where O’Harris had a fire burning against the unseasonal chill
in the air.

“Thank you for coming Tommy,
look Clara, about tomorrow…”

Clara interrupted before he
could say more.

“It is Tommy’s decision, not
mine.” She answered calmly enough, though in fact she felt sick to her stomach.

O’Harris gave her a curious
look, but let the subject drop.

“I’m glad you’re here, I
thought you might avoid me since I was pushing you to give me an answer on Uncle
Goddard’s death.”

“I would never avoid you.”
Clara said offended, “I would not be so cowardly, if I could not give you an
answer I would say so to your face.”

“Good!” O’Harris grinned at
her, “You are a fine woman Miss Fitzgerald, I wish I could persuade you to
fly.”

“The old girl barely would get
in your motor car.” Tommy added.

O’Harris laughed, though Clara
pursed her lips indignantly and glared at her brother.

“Never mind that, next plane
along I am calling Clara, how about that?”

“I wish her well.” Clara said
politely.

“She’ll be dogmatic,
head-strong and murder to control.” Tommy elaborated, enjoying teasing his
sister. O’Harris restrained his laughing this time seeing how cross Clara was
getting.

“Enough of this talk, have you
found me an answer?” He leaned forward in his chair eagerly.

“Steady on, chum, you haven’t
poured us drinks yet.” Tommy gave a feigned hurt look, “I’m parched.”

O’Harris chortled again as he
jumped up to fetch drinks for everyone. Clara cast a glance at her brother for
the first time realising how much he enjoyed the friendship of Captain
O’Harris. Well, long may it last, he deserved a spark of happiness in his life.

“Here you go.” O’Harris had
made them all whisky and tonic. Clara sipped hers noncommittally and then put
it aside hoping Tommy would be his usual self and steal it when he thought she
wasn’t looking.

“An answer, Miss Fitzgerald, an
answer. Please tell me you have one.” O’Harris no longer looked excited or
jovial, his tone was deadly serious.

“I do have an answer for you.”
Clara began, “And I am relieved to say your aunt Florence had nothing to do
with your uncle’s death.”

O’Harris almost collapsed into
a chair.

“That is better news than you
could imagine.”

“I hope so, but unfortunately I
also have some bad news. I know who killed your uncle and it will not please
you.”

“If it wasn’t Flo how can the
answer distress me? No, you have to speak up, I need to know.”

Clara had dreaded this moment
with every ounce of her being. O’Harris’ aunt was not a killer but his father
was, it was hardly a good exchange, far from it. She didn’t want to tell him
and yet at the same time she had no choice. She could lie, but Clara hated such
tricks especially when it came to judging whether to tell someone something.
She never seemed able to make the right decision.

“Please, Clara, whatever it is,
however bad, please, I need to know.” O’Harris begged her with his eyes.
Finally Clara knew she would have to speak.

“I have pieced together the
story, though there are still some parts missing. Goddard O’Harris walked out
of his dining room to smoke a cigar and never came back. It was murder all
right, and it was the cigar he smoked that killed him. The materials within it
were laced with chemicals that would produce arsine gas when ignited.”

“But the cigars…”

“They came from your father, yes.
I am afraid to say I believe the evidence indicates quite strongly that he
poisoned them, to enact revenge on your uncle from beyond the grave.”

O’Harris stood abruptly and
paced about the room, he turned sharply.

“Why?”

“Many reasons, he had conflicts
with his brother over money, over his wife. He disliked Florence, it may even
in part have been to spite her. But we must also bear in mind he was very ill
and sickness, especially cancer, can twist a person’s thinking until it is no
longer logical or familiar to them.”