Murder at Honeychurch Hall: A Mystery (23 page)

“Are they all of this caliber?” David demanded.

William looked confused. “This what?”

“Caliber.
Quality?
”

“I don’t know,” said William, turning to me again. “Lady Edith will want to know where—?”

“About twenty years ago, there was a robbery here,” David broke in. “I’m sure you remember it well.”

Mum and I exchanged looks of surprise as David seemed to give William the third degree.

“Actually, no,” said William. “I am probably the only person who did not grow up on the estate—wait—can you hear that noise?” He strode to the back door and flung it open. I could make out the sound of a diesel engine.

“Rupert has brought the old Land Rover,” said William, exasperated. “We’ll never pull the tractor out with that.”

“Perhaps David can help?” Mum suggested.

William regarded David and his Florsheim shoes keenly. “We could do with an extra pair of hands—someone who can stand in the tunnel. The water’s not deep. We’ll kit you up in a pair of Wellies. What’s your size?”

David blanched. “I’m not sure—”

“David would love to, wouldn’t you, David,” said Mum.

“Don’t make him, Iris,” William teased. “He’s a city boy. Doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

“I’m afraid I’m due back in Totnes,” said David with a sniff.

“I thought you were staying in Dartmouth?” I said,

“I’ll be off, thanks for the tea.” William pulled on his boots and slipped the snuff box into his pocket. “I’ll return this. Her ladyship is going to be happy.”

The moment William had gone, Mum said, “What’s happening in Totnes, David?”

“My father-in-law is in a hospice.”

“Oh, your
father-in-law,
” said Mum pointedly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

David gave an apologetic smile. “My wife and I are separated but I was always close to Hugh. It’s been a very difficult time.”

“
Separated,
you say.” Mum poured herself
another
large gin and tonic. “I suspect you’re waiting until he dies before you can move forward with the divorce.”

“Mother!” I said, appalled.

I knew it was a wicked thing to think but at this precise moment I completely understood what drove people to commit murder.

“Don’t worry, Kat.” David gave Mum a dazzling smile. “Your mother is only concerned for your welfare. She thinks I’m leading you up the garden path.”

“And are you?” Mum asked.

“What a question, Iris.”

I grabbed the biscuit tin off the counter and removed the lid. “Chocolate digestive, anyone?”

“Lovely.” David took a biscuit. “Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself, sweetheart?”

“The usual,” I said with forced gaiety. “Cleaning, washing, cooking, typing—”

“Helping look after the little boy at the house,” Mum chipped in.

“His name is Harry,” I said. “He wears these goggles and is obsessed with Biggles.”

“My son Sam loves Biggles adventure stories, too.”

“Harry has a collection of model airplanes in his bedroom that used to belong to his grandfather and great-uncle. They were fighter pilots in both World Wars. Actually—” I paused, “Harry says he’s seen his Great-Uncle Rupert’s ghost and last night, I had this really weird feeling he was there, too.”

David patted my hand indulgently. “You are funny, Kat.”

“No, I really did. You believe in ghosts, Mum, don’t you?”

But my mother seemed lost in thought. “How old are your children, David?”

“Sam is fifteen and Chloe is seventeen,” said David.

“Oh, you have
two
. How lovely.”

I already knew what was coming and tried to kick Mum under the table but missed. “More tea, David?” I said desperately.

“Well, that’ll be quite a big gap then, won’t it,” Mum said.

“Gap?” said David.

“When you have more little bundles of joy.”

I jumped up and grabbed David’s arm. “Don’t you think you should be going?”

“Yes,” said David gratefully and got to his feet. “Thanks for the—” but I’d already hurried him out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

“I am so sorry about my mother,” I said. “She’s not herself today. She’s very upset about Vera. We both are.”

“No. Iris is always like that with me,” said David. “But I really do try.”

“I know.”

“Nothing can be as bad as the first time I met your father.”

“God, that was awful, wasn’t it?” I said. “All those questions about your honorable intentions. But you soon won him over with your charm.”

Quite unexpectedly, I was hit by a wave of sadness.

David put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug. “I know you miss him. And your mother must miss him, too, but she does seem happy here.”

“Mum has been acting as if she’s been let out of jail.”

“Well, Frank was pretty oppressive.”

“No he wasn’t.” It was perfectly alright for me to criticize my father but I couldn’t bear anyone else to. “Dad was just old fashioned and believed that a woman’s place should be in the kitchen.”

“So, allow Iris to do what she wants now,” said David. “She obviously wants to stay here.”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Rick really wants you to come back to
Fakes & Treasures
. He’s begging you. He said to name your price.”

“I told you I’m finished with the show. I’ve got too much on my mind right now.” I felt my temper growing. “I found a dead woman today for heaven’s sake.”

“I know, I know,” said David soothingly. “Let’s talk about it another time, okay?”

We stepped into the courtyard where a silver-gray Porsche SUV was parked next to the barn. It had a personalized number plate—
WYN
1—and looked brand new.

I was taken aback. “Oh! You’ve bought a new car. I thought we couldn’t afford it.”

“It’s just a car,” said David. “Please let’s not argue, Kat. I have enough of that with Trudy.” David hugged me again. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Thoroughly irritated, I tramped back to the Carriage House. Mum was waiting by the front door. “It looks like David’s bought himself a new car.”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Mum looked hurt but didn’t deny it. “I came to tell you that nice policeman Shawn just called,” she said. “He wants you to go to Vera’s cottage right now to answer some questions. Shall I come with you?”

“No, thanks,” I said stiffly. “I think you’ve done enough damage for one day.”

“Me?” Mum exclaimed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you can’t stand David,” I said. “And what was all that about the photograph? Why did you lie?”

Mum bristled. “It’s none of anyone’s business,” she snapped. “I’m sick of people judging me.”

“You mean me,” I exclaimed.

“Yes, you!” Mum shot back. “I told you not to come.”

“You asked for my help!”

“I don’t need it and I don’t need you.”

I opened my mouth to protest but realized there was little point. Instead, I turned away.

“Where are you going?” Mum demanded.

“To see that ridiculous policeman,” I said wearily. “And perhaps by the time I come back you might be ready to apologize.”

Chapter Eighteen

An old black Fiat 500 was parked behind Shawn’s police car outside Honeychurch Cottages.

Vera’s front door was ajar. I stepped into the front room to find a balding man in white overalls and latex gloves dusting for fingerprints.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m looking for Detective Inspector Cropper.”

“Stay there. This is a crime scene,” he replied without bothering to look up.

“And my fingerprints will be on those boxes,” I said. “I was here yesterday. I’m Kat Stanford.”

“Rapunzel!” he exclaimed. “Well, well, well. Shawn said we had a celebrity in our midst. I’m Dick, by the way.”

As always I gave a polite smile. “Shawn wanted to see me.”

“Upstairs.” Dick nodded over to the open latch door in the corner. “Don’t touch anything!”

Shawn and Roxy were in the first room on the right that appeared to be a storage area. Three of the walls had been lined with custom-made honeycombed squares, each containing a shoebox. Stuck to the outside of each one was a photograph of the shoes inside. Vera had been very organized.

“How many pairs of shoes do you reckon, Roxy?” said Shawn.

“One hundred ninety five. Do you want to bet?”

“I say two-fifty. Winner buys the first round at the Hare & Hounds.”

Roxy examined the sole of a Jimmy Choo peep-toe pump. “We’re the same size.” She slipped off her brogues and stepped up into the shoes, holding onto Shawn for balance. “Blimey. How can anyone walk in these things? I’ve gained five inches! Here, you try.”

“Don’t be daft.”

I tapped on the door and in a loud voice said, “Sorry to interrupt. Dick sent me up here.”

Shawn turned pink. “Hello. Goodness. Hello! Come on in!”

“Goodness indeed,” I said. “That’s a lot of shoes.”

“Most of them haven’t been worn,” said Roxy, stepping down from the shoe. “All designer. I was telling Shawn some of them fetch around a hundred quid a pair.”

“Try six hundred for the Louboutins,” I said. “I wonder how she could afford them.”

“Lou-what?” Shawn said.

“They always have red soles,” Roxy declared. “Personally, I think they’re a bit tarty.”

“Vera was wearing a pair of leopard print Louboutins on Saturday night,” I said. “When I found her she was wearing Wellington boots.”

“One Wellington boot,” Roxy said firmly. “The leopard print shoes are on the draining board—”

“In the kitchen,” I said. “I saw them there this morning.”

“Are you sure about that?” said Shawn sharply.

“Already bagged up, Shawn,” said Roxy. “Dick’s logged them and everything.”

“Would you identify them please, Kat?”

“I’ll stay here and count the shoes,” said Roxy.

I followed Shawn downstairs where a young lad with terrible acne was seated at Vera’s computer workstation.

“Thanks for coming, Alan.” said Shawn, adding by way of explanation, “Roxy’s brother. He’s a computer genius. Found anything interesting?”

“A journal, hidden away in a folder on her hard drive.”

“Nice work,” said Shawn.

We continued into the kitchen. Just as Roxy had said, Vera’s Louboutins were bagged and labeled on the draining board. “Yes, those are the shoes.”

“Thank you.” Shawn beamed. “Right then. Yes.”

“You had some questions for me?”

“Let’s go somewhere private.”

Somewhere private turned out to be his grandmother’s cottage next door. It had the same layout as Eric and Vera’s place, only there were a plethora of framed family photographs and a lot of lace doilies. Shawn made himself at home in the kitchen and put the kettle on.

I became aware of an unsettling electricity between us. In the confines of the tiny kitchen it made me nervous. I suspected Shawn felt it, too. As he reached for the tea caddy, the lid fell off and the tin dropped to the floor scattering loose tea everywhere.

“Bloody hell,” mumbled Shawn, lunging for a dustpan on the top of a pedal bin. It hadn’t been emptied. Fluff and dirt tipped down the front of his soiled white T-shirt. “Oh dear, I’m hopeless.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I feel your pain. I do that all the time.” And the truth was, I did.

I found a broom behind the door and swept the lot into the corner.

Moments later Shawn put two mugs of tea down on the table and gestured for me to take a seat.

He took out his moleskin notepad. “We’re trying to trace Vera’s last movements.”

I repeated what I’d told William earlier at the stableyard, especially Vera’s hysterical comment that she feared Eric might try to kill her.

“And why was that, do you suppose?”

“She took Eric’s beloved tractor for a joyride.”

“Any idea why?” said Shawn.

“Vera was upset because she thought Eric had stood her up but in fact, she’d gotten the wrong day. I rang the restaurant to check.”

“And you saw her around what time and where?” Shawn licked his thumb and flipped to a new page.

“Ten-ish. I met Vera along the footpath in the pinewoods. She was barefoot and carrying those leopard print shoes. Her dress was muddy.”

“Do you know what she was doing in the pinewoods?” asked Shawn.

“Just that she’d been to see my mother.”

“And what were you doing at the Hall on Saturday night?”

“My mother volunteered me to look after Harry,” I said. “Lady Edith and Lavinia had a social engagement.”

“Yes, I’ve already talked to them—and William, too. He was in the field with a sick horse.”

“I waited until Rupert came back and then I went home.” I hesitated. “Actually, I overheard a disagreement between Rupert and Eric. I got the impression that Gayla had something important that belonged to Rupert.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know…” I hesitated again. “It could be just my imagination but I felt that Vera was somehow involved.”

Shawn’s pencil stopped in midair. “Eric has an alibi.”

“And you believe him? Who else could it be?” I said, surprised. “Everyone was out and Rupert would never leave Harry alone in the house. Unless—what time do you think this happened?”

“Just answer the questions for now,” Shawn said. “I know this must be difficult.”

I thought of Vera lying on the floor of the grotto. “She was hit on the head, wasn’t she? The way her hands were folded across her chest—”

“We’re almost positive that the incident took place elsewhere—”

“You mean someone
deliberately
took her body to the grotto?” I said. “If I hadn’t lost Harry I may never have gone there. No one ever would have known—”

“Well … not for some time,” said Shawn.

“But that means—”

“Yes,” said Shawn. “Someone knew the garden well.”

The implication that it might not be Eric but someone local—someone
here
was too horrible to contemplate.

Shawn flipped to a new page. “Let’s go back to your mother. Were she and Vera friends?”

“They hardly knew each other,” I said. “Mum’s only lived here a few weeks.”

“But you said they saw each other on Saturday night?” said Shawn.