Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  ‘Hmm. To see better over the long bonnet of the vehicle, I conjecture.’

  ‘Because he’s so short! It’s them, that clinches it.’

  ‘No pun intended, of course,’ Clifford said drily. She stared at him blankly until he explained. ‘Clinch is a traditional Scottish word for a limp.’

  She fought the smile this brought on. ‘Right, moving on then, Noel and his companion of reduced stature are supposedly here on holiday, not!’ she exclaimed in a low voice. Under their listing in her notebook, she wrote:

  Noel Longley and Bert Blunt – almost certainly lying about playing cards in Noel’s room around the time of Hilary’s death – also vague about time went to bed – only each other to substantiate alibi

  ‘Right, Miss Summers next,’ said Eleanor.

  Grace Summers – said she is here to find a job – denies Noel Longley’s assertion that she was in Hilary’s room around 9.30 p.m. on night of Hilary’s death

  ‘So, now Mr Franklin.’ Her pen flew across the page under his description.

  Rex Franklin – only one who admits to knowing Hilary – admitted to being in charge of Hilary’s firing squad but helped him escape by switching bullets for blanks – claims Hilary already dead when he went to his room and searched it around 11.35 p.m. – also claims Hilary duped him out of something

  She tapped the pen thoughtfully against her chin. ‘What was it he said when you queried why he had believed Hilary ever had whatever it was?’

  ‘That Mr Eden had shown him “a taster” and it was “a beauty”.’

  Eleanor sighed. ‘Maybe Hilary really was gun running then? That just leaves Mr Willem de Meyer and he seems to have disappeared.’ She cocked her head. ‘Surely though, unless he is back tonight, the hotel manager will alert the police to the fact he’s missing?’

  ‘If the manager hasn’t, we should take it upon ourselves to highlight his absence.’

  She turned her notebook round to face him again. ‘Please tell me your shrewd command of logic can see something I’m missing in all of this.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘The half of the photograph Mr Eden sent to you.’

  Her cheeks coloured. ‘I’ve come to the conclusion it was a bitter goodbye he couldn’t resist because he knew something was going to happen to him.’

  ‘So have I.’

  Her jaw fell at his reply. ‘What!?’

  ‘Forgive me, I should have added “in part”. To explain, we learned from Thomas, the desk clerk, that Mr Eden appeared most anxious that you should receive the envelope. In my experience, that is not the usual reaction for someone sending a malicious missive.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It has occurred to me that Mr Eden most likely sent it to you because he needed you to receive it.’

  Her eyes widened and her lip trembled. ‘Because then I could have saved him?’

  ‘Regrettably not. I think he knew a powerful enemy, or enemies, had him cornered and he anticipated he wouldn’t leave Brighton alive. Now, if, and I do stress if, Miss Summers is or was associated with Mr Eden, it would seem that it was from him that she gained her knowledge concerning your inheritance of Henley Hall and your uncle’s fortune.’

  Eleanor slapped her forehead. ‘Of course!’

  ‘And therefore it would not seem too large a leap of imagination to assume Mr Eden also learned of your solving several murders. After all, you did make the local, and on one occasion, the national papers. I speculate that, trapped as he was, he needed a method of communicating with you that only you would understand or recognise. So, if it fell into the wrong hands, it would be all but meaningless.’

  She gasped. ‘So he sent me the photograph?’

  Clifford nodded. ‘I believe Mr Eden deduced that you would have worked out from the crest on the envelope that it came from the Grand Hotel, Brighton. Most hotels, as you know, my lady, have personalised writing paper and envelopes in guests’ rooms. The only thing I cannot fathom is why he cut it in half and only sent you one half?’

  She frowned. ‘I’ve been wondering that too. Perhaps he intended to send me the other half.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But he ran out of time.’

  Clifford nodded. ‘Possibly, although that doesn’t explain why he cut it in half. Unless… do you have it with you, perhaps?’

  ‘I haven’t been able to be separated from it, even though it hurts every time I stare at it.’ She pulled it from her dress pocket and placed it on the table.

  ‘If I may?’ Clifford picked it up. ‘And you believe this to be Mr Eden’s writing on the reverse side?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been trying to draw a little comfort from seeing his writing again.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Clifford reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a palm-sized, teardrop-shaped brass object. With a deft flick of his wrist, a glass circle popped out, fastened at the pointed end of the case. ‘A powerful magnifying glass,’ he said without meeting her questioning gaze. From another pocket he pulled a slim torch and clicked it on. He ran the magnifying glass slowly over the lettering, scrutinising every inch.

  Eleanor frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘One moment, please.’ He moved to poring over the cut edge of the photograph itself. ‘Ah! As I suspected.’

  Her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Well? What have you discovered?’

  He set down the magnifying glass and showed her the back of the photograph. ‘Mr Eden did not write the words on the back of this soon after your wedding day, as you imagined. Neither did he cut it in half then. Both acts were committed only a matter of days ago, I am certain.’

  Her words tumbled over themselves. ‘But how? I mean, why… how can you be so sure?’

  He handed her the photograph and the magnifying glass and held the torch for her. ‘The ink has faded, yes?’

  ‘Yes, with age.’ She frowned. ‘Ink does.’

  ‘Not to this extent. Not since Mr William Perkin’s most fortuitous discovery for ink production while trying to find a cure for malaria.’

  ‘Surely it would have been better if he’d succeeded with a cure?’

  ‘Unquestionably. However, in trying to produce a synthetic form of quinine, he created what he termed “mauveine”, a type of synthetic dye. It revolutionised many industries, being used for everything from ink to hair dye.’

  Eleanor’s frown deepened. A wandering thought crept into her mind, but she ruthlessly stamped on it. Concentrate, Ellie! If Clifford thinks this is important, it must be. ‘What does Mr Perkin’s dye have to do with Hilary’s writing?’

  ‘Because Mr Eden watered down the ink. He diluted it to make it appear as if the ink had aged and faded. However, given the urgency of his situation, he did not have the opportunity to purchase distilled water. Instead, he was reduced to using impure water. From the tap in his adjoining bathroom, I suspect.’

  She rubbed her eyes. ‘Put me out of my misery and speed up the explanation, please.’

  ‘Very good. Unlike distilled water, the minerals in ordinary water can interfere with the constitution of the mauveine dye in the ink, causing its elements to separate. Resulting in’ – he shone the torch closer to the photographic paper – ‘the sporadic distortion of colour and intensity you see here.’

  ‘Although you can only see that under this magnifying glass,’ she said in awe. ‘And what about when he cut it in half?’

  ‘Equally, there are signs that a hurried attempt was made to age the cut. The uneven edge has almost certainly seen the use of a gentleman’s razor.’ He pointed to the edge. ‘It has been used to pull out many of the paper’s fibres, creating the impression the edge has worn by being carried in a pocket—’

  ‘Or in his wallet. That’s where Grimsdale said he found it.’

  Clifford nodded and clicked off the torch. ‘But now we are facing a most difficult conundrum.’

  She nodded back. ‘I know, we need to match it with the other half to try and work out why Hilary cut it in half. But Grimsdale d
istrusts me and isn’t going to allow me to see it again. And he certainly isn’t going to let me take it away.’

  ‘And at best, he would be highly displeased with you for having withheld your half of the photograph.’

  ‘Yes, and he would definitely confiscate it as evidence. Dash it, Clifford, we need that other half. It might be the breakthrough we’re waiting for.’

  ‘I agree, although I confess at the moment how to obtain it eludes me.’

  She took a deep breath as something stabbed at her brain. ‘It doesn’t elude me.’ She spun round on her chair to stare at the enormous decorative silver clock that filled a large alcove between two doorways. She winced. ‘Five to midnight. Fingers crossed, Clifford. This is one conversation that will definitely not wait until a more seemly hour. It’s time to call in a favour.’

  Twenty-Two

  The persistent cry of seagulls and the blustery wind whistling over the cliffs made Eleanor feel she was a hundred miles away from all the unpleasantness of the last few days. She picked her way along the uneven path, staring at the crashing waves below. Despite the wind, the air was warm for the time of year and the sun as bright as a June day. Only a handful of clouds dared intrude on the bluest sky she’d seen since arriving at the seaside, and even they kept away from the sun itself, as if embarrassed to be there.

  Now and then she stole a sideways glance at her companion’s chestnut curls blowing against the turned-up collar of his blue wool overcoat. And then she coloured as he looked at her, his deep-brown eyes holding hers questioningly.

  ‘Quite the bracing walk,’ she said awkwardly, her fingers straying to her emerald-green silk scarf.

  Detective Chief Inspector Seldon nodded. ‘Absolutely. But after the substantial late breakfast you insisted on treating me to, I fear this is the only way I shall stay awake long enough to help you get the other half of your wedding photograph.’

  When she’d rung him last night, she’d been amazed at how readily he’d agreed to come down and speak to Grimsdale and obtain the other half of her wedding photograph for her, albeit in his usual gruff manner. But then again, it had been midnight.

  She shoved her hands in her sage-green jacket pockets and continued at the fast pace needed to keep up with his long legs. ‘It really is most frightfully kind of you, Inspector. Especially since you wasted half a day of your holiday kicking your heels with me at the Metropole for breakfast. Then the aquarium, and now up here on the cliffs. I can’t believe Grimsdale has been called away for the morning so, on top of everything else, you need to wait to ask him in person.’ She had no idea what reason he was going to give Grimsdale for needing the photograph. She assumed he would use his superior rank, but she just felt it best not to ask.

  ‘It isn’t a waste of any time at all. I was at a loose end, in truth.’

  ‘Oh.’ She tried to ignore the peculiar sense of disappointment his admission brought.

  He glanced at her sharply. ‘Work has been so busy in the last twelve months I haven’t had a chance to think what I might do with my days off. I did need a break, however.’

  She silently agreed with him. There was no denying his dashingly handsome features were showing the signs of too many late nights. The strain of being one of the few senior officers spread far too thin across London and Oxford was etched on his face. He’d also told her recently that there had been budget and staff cuts in his department.

  ‘My apologies then. I’ve added three cases to your workload since I arrived at Henley Hall.’

  ‘Four, actually. The last one occupying the entire Christmas period.’

  Oh dear, Ellie, it sounds like you’ve been a right pain since you appeared and he’s regretting coming down to help today!

  She forced a laugh. ‘Perhaps to make up for it, I could lend you Clifford. He’ll have you sorted six months in advance of your holiday with a meticulous handwritten itinerary.’

  ‘A delightful offer. Although it sounds more like a chance for you to cause mayhem with Henley Hall’s meal schedules in his absence.’

  ‘Dash it, you rumbled me.’ She negotiated a particularly spiky bush growing in the middle of the path. ‘He is absolutely wonderful, genuinely. Yet at least twice a day I want to boil his head.’

  Seldon laughed out loud. A deep laugh that she found infectious.

  As their laughter died down, she felt an awkward silence coming on and jumped in. ‘Well, it’s not surprising you find it hard to relax. I know how dedicated you are to your job, despite how stressful it must be.’ She winced. ‘And I’ve probably compounded that stress now and then. But I’m sure you don’t remember that,’ she added quickly.

  Seldon’s lips curled upwards, but he seemed to fight the smile. ‘Lady Swift, I could hardly forget how many times you have deliberately gone against my advice. And my cautions and even’ – he stared at her – ‘my threats to arrest you for interfering in a case.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not the best at being told what to do. Too much time growing up alone, making up my own rules as I went along, I think. And, seeing as I’ll be thirty tomorrow, there’s probably little chance I’ll change now.’

  His face registered something she couldn’t fathom, but as he didn’t reply, his silence felt disapproving. His next question surprised her. ‘And how is Master Gladstone, the sausage-stealing monster of Henley Hall?’

  She laughed. ‘Enjoying his seaside break enormously, thank you. As are the ladies.’

  Seldon rubbed his forehead. ‘You have brought your entire staff on holiday with you?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course. Oh, except Joseph and Si—’ She stopped, not wanting him to ask her about Silas, her mysterious gamekeeper-cum-security guard she was now sure had a rather dubious past, given Clifford’s cryptic answers to her questions about him.

  Seldon’s brows met. ‘Strange then that I wasn’t called down to Brighton earlier.’

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘Oh, you know, to escort England’s most unorthodox lady of the manor and her rabblesome staff back to Buckinghamshire after too many rowdy celebrations running into the small hours. Only that,’ he ended, looking out over the sea.

  Is he making fun of you, Ellie? She had, in truth, had some rather exuberant, and late, evenings with her staff that had left her wondering how they managed to be so fresh-faced the following morning. Especially as her housekeeper and cook were a good twenty years older than her.

  ‘Well, I’ve been very well behaved. It’s the ladies who have been getting up to all sorts.’

  Seldon shook his head. ‘As I said, most unorthodox.’

  ‘It’s only fair. It’s their holiday as well as mine. And as you yourself have found, holidays do not always pan out the way you planned.’

  At that moment they rounded the headland and the full force of the wind hit them, catching the end of Eleanor’s silk scarf. In a trice, it billowed out from round her neck and disappeared over the cliff. She ran as close to the edge as she dared and stared out in dismay at the sight of it floating off over the beach hundreds of feet below.

  ‘Oh botheration!’ she muttered.

  ‘Was that precious?’ Seldon’s voice in her ear made her jump. ‘I can take the next path down and try to retrieve it for you.’

  ‘Very kind. It was my mother’s, actually, but I do have a few others of hers. And I’ve put you to enough trouble already. I’ll just turn up my collar for now.’

  ‘Here.’ He removed his blue wool scarf from his neck and offered it to her. ‘I would feel terrible if you caught a chill on top of everything else.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but you’re the one who’s rundown from working all hours.’

  ‘Well, we can’t both wear it. And I don’t need you being unwell on my conscience.’ He held her gaze. ‘Obstinacy can be dangerous for one’s health, I’ve heard, especially in ladies who mistakenly believe they are invincible.’ Awkwardly wrapping the scarf around her neck, he tucked the end in behind her right ear, catching one
of her red curls, then took a hasty step back. He wrinkled his nose. ‘You definitely look better in your customary green. Let’s walk.’

  Fearing the mix of emotions playing out on her face would give her away she buried it in the surprising softness of his scarf. The intoxicating scents of cedar, citrus and fresh soap made her tingle.

  ‘By the way,’ Seldon said. ‘I almost forgot to mention. I made a call and checked out the details of those four men and one woman you asked about. It seems they all came across on the same boat from South Africa as Mr Painshill, sorry, Eden. Bit of a coincidence.’

  She shook her head. ‘Coincidence, my foot! What’s Grimsdale doing about it?’

  His brow furrowed. ‘I’m sure Grimsdale’s aware of the fact, but you can’t just arrest someone because they came over on the same ship.’

  She laughed and nodded. ‘I know, you need that annoying little thing called “evidence”.’

  Further along, Seldon stopped by a wooden bench. ‘Would you like a rest?’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m fine. But I would like to drink in this incredible view for a moment.’ She slid onto the end. He waited for her to get comfortable and then took the other end. They stared out over the green-grey sea, punctuated by the tiny white dots of seagulls bobbing on the rolling waves. She bent down and picked up a pink stone worn circular by the sand and wind. She held it in her palm. ‘I do love the sea.’

  He took the stone and turned it over in his hand. ‘Did you spend a lot of time near it as a child?’