The Tomb of the Chatelaine: A 1920s Country House Murder Mystery (Heathcliff Lennox Book 6)

by Karen Baugh Menuhin

  He was a lot more talkative here than he had been in the hall.

  ‘Right, we’re coming.’ Swift announced. ‘Lennox?’

  I was in need of some quiet time in the fresh air with my little dog.

  ‘I think I’ll take a walk, Swift. It doesn’t take two of us to talk to the police.’

  ‘But someone may have vital information,’ he argued.

  ‘Don’t think they do, sir,’ the boy answered. ‘It’s all anyone’s talked about since the accident, but no-one saw a thing.’

  ‘There you go, Swift. No need to go at all,’ I told him.

  ‘We must co-ordinate with the local force.’ He hesitated. ‘But you could have a look for the source of the evidence…’

  ‘You found evidence!’ The boy was agog.

  ‘It isn’t actual evidence and you’re not to repeat a word,’ Swift stated firmly, then marched him off.

  I carried on to the old wing and entered the kitchen, no-one was about. Foggy was keen to go, and I picked up my little cat to place him in the pocket of my shooting jacket. It was a bit of a squeeze as he’d grown rather fat. We left by the back door to enter a rambling garden. I’d barely noticed it when we’d dashed through in the rain earlier. It faced north and was encompassed by brick-built walls containing orchards, flowers and vegetable patches. I followed a stony path, passing shrubs and saplings, while Foggy scouted ahead with his nose to the ground.

  I was keen to gain a spot of solitude, my mind turning over the events of the day, who was who and what they’d said. I recalled Lady Millicent mentioning the name Finn earlier. It was a surprise to learn he was Sinclair’s by-blow and I wondered what his ambitions may be.

  A picket gate in the wall gave onto the formal grounds of the mansion. Foggy and I cut a diagonal through the parterres, rose arbours, knot gardens, fountains, statues and the like. I came to an ancient yew hedge almost ten feet high, thickly grown and perfectly trimmed. I strolled alongside it to a pair of fancy iron gates and stopped in my tracks.

  A vista of pastoral perfection stretched down towards the lake. Single specimens of oak, elm and cedar stood amid gently sloping lawns; belts of woodland framed the scene, leading the eye down to the shimmering expanse of water. A folly stood in line of sight, a few yards from the water’s edge; it was white and in the same Palladian style as the house. It was built on a broad, circular plinth about twenty feet across, curved marble walls supporting slender pillars reaching up to a dome topped with a golden pinnacle. I could see movement; someone was there. I followed the slope down to see who it was.

  ‘Oh, you’ve caught me in my sinful habit.’ Lydia laughed. She was smoking, lounging on a seat in a restful pose. She’d changed into warmer clothes, slacks – which were becoming quite the fashion – and a velvet-trimmed jacket over a white blouse.

  ‘Greetings.’ I gave her my best grin. Foggy remembered her from our morning arrival and leaped about, yipping for attention.

  ‘He’s such an adorable little doggie.’ She tossed her cigarette over the folly wall and bent down to fondle his ears. He was ecstatic, but then spotted ducks and raced off to the lake’s edge. ‘What’s he called?’

  ‘Fogg. He’s easily distracted,’ I replied as we watched him go.

  ‘Do you smoke?’ she asked.

  I hesitated, thinking that I could very easily be tempted. ‘No, I’ve given them up.’

  ‘Oh, it’s quite the rage, you know. And the inhalations are said to protect against influenza.’ She adopted an artless air, but there was intelligence in her dark eyes.

  I extracted Tubbs from my pocket, causing another bout of delighted laughter from Lydia.

  ‘He needed some fresh air,’ I explained and looked around. ‘I thought the castle was here?’

  ‘It’s beyond the trees.’ She indicated a thickly planted copse.’

  I gazed at the vista. ‘It’s bigger than I thought.’

  ‘Yes, the lake is simply huge, Sinclair had it dredged and extended into the quarry. He even had an island built.’

  I nodded. It was barely visible in the distance, a dot in the expanse of water.

  She leaned back, the better to see me against the waning light. ‘Can I call you Heathcliff? It’s such a romantic name.’

  ‘I’m not keen on Heathcliff,’ I answered without babbling. I had a habit of lapsing into idiocy when talking to pretty girls. I’d given it some thought and decided that if I treated them like suspects and asked questions, I might be able to avoid making a complete fool of myself. I cleared my throat to put the plan into action. ‘Where were you when the accident took place?’

  She laughed. ‘Am I suspect?’

  ‘No, I’m just asking everyone. It’s detecting.’

  ‘Well, I was right here, and Jerome was with me. We didn’t see or hear a dicky bird.’ She picked up Tubbs, who’d toddled over to investigate the wind-blown leaves around her feet.

  ‘Oh…’ I tried to think of another question. ‘Why was Jerome with you?’

  ‘Because he’s my fiancé,’ she replied, stroking Tubbs under his chin.

  ‘Really?’ That was a surprise. Although I’d noticed she wore a large diamond ring on her finger, so I suppose it shouldn’t have been.

  ‘Lennox you simply must rekindle the flame with Persi, it’s such a ridiculous way to go on.’

  ‘What? I mean, it’s… I wasn’t…’ I shut up abruptly – things weren’t going to plan.

  ‘We’ve invited her to dinner tonight. We’re all going to be there, except Grandpa and Grandma, of course. They never go anywhere.’

  ‘P… Persi’s coming to dinner?’ I stuttered.

  ‘Yes,’ she laughed. ‘I just said so. I telephoned her, it’s all arranged.’

  That caught me by surprise. I sat down on a marble seat, then straightened up as the penny dropped.

  ‘It was you! You rang my house, didn’t you?’ I threw the accusation at her. ‘You pretended to be Persi. I couldn’t believe it was her; she’s refused to speak to me since… erm.’

  ‘Since you walked out on her.’ She finished the sentence for me.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I persisted. ‘You didn’t find Fogg by chance and come downstairs, you were watching out for us from the windows.’

  She hugged Tubbs to her chest. ‘Yes, of course.’ She laughed. ‘I thought you’d be onto me in an instant. Anyway, it worked. You’re here and Persi is coming tonight, so voila!’

  ‘Lydia, it isn’t funny, I’ve been made to look like an absolute idiot.’ I was furious and it must have been apparent by my expression because she cast me an anxious glance.

  ‘But it will be worth it, really it will.’ She tried to placate me.

  I wasn’t remotely placated. ‘What about the accident and the parcel? Was that part of the ruse?’

  ‘No, it’s all true,’ she insisted.

  Damn it, I swore under my breath. I was on my feet, in half a mind to walk away.

  ‘You won’t leave, will you?’ She looked worried.

  ‘You’ve dragged me and Swift here…’ I suddenly thought about that. ‘Why did you telegram Swift?’

  ‘Because I truly think there is something wrong and I wanted you both to come.’ She’d given up the silly girl act altogether and was quite serious. ‘Everyone has been behaving so strangely… and I’m frightened.’

  ‘Lydia,’ I sat down again. ‘You’d better explain.’

  ‘It’s been quite tense. I… I can’t really describe it.’ She took a breath. ‘When Sinclair opened the parcel, and there was the gun inside, it was such a shock. He threw it away and told Trent to burn the package. Afterwards nobody said anything, but Mama was upset and now she’s anxious. And Max was stunned, and since then he’s been snapping at everyone.’

  ‘Was this before Monroe was killed?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, and I’m convinced there’s a connection. The police couldn’t find anything, or wouldn’t, so I thought of you. I knew Sinclair would forbid it; that’s
why I pretended it was to bring you and Persi together.’ A smile trembled on her lips. ‘And I really do want you to get together, so it was an awfully good plan, don’t you think?’

  I tried to calm down and make sense of it. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I haven’t had chance, and… I wasn’t sure if you’d become angry and leave.’

  ‘I’m…’ I began, then stopped and decided I’d better start acting the detective. ‘Right, tell me what you know – and start at the beginning.’

  ‘Oh, thank heavens! Someone who will listen to me.’ She suddenly beamed. ‘It was Sinclair’s birthday, his sixtieth, and he wanted a big party. He’d invited his cronies and their wives, and all the usual hangers on. Trent and Jerome organised it, but they couldn’t decide if it should be indoors or out because of the weather.’

  ‘When was the party?’ I cut in.

  ‘Five days ago. The sun smiled, so it was held out here.’ She waved a hand towards the lake. ‘They set tables and chairs along the lawn and the servants ran about with trays of hors d’oeuvres and bubbly on ice. We put on the glitz, it was all terribly glamorous. There were stacks of presents for Sinclair. They’d been piled up in here.’ She indicated the folly. ‘As the afternoon went on, he decided to open them. Trent carried them out a few at a time while Sinclair and Mama sat beside the lake. Everyone was chatting and drinking. He unwrapped watches and cufflinks – you know the sort of things people buy – and then there was a box. It looked very plain, not at all as a gift should be presented.’ She paused to put Tubbs on the floor as he’d been eyeing the skittering leaves.

  I waited for her to continue, but her gaze had turned back to Foggy by the lake. ‘The gun?’

  ‘Yes.’ She brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face. ‘Wrapped in old brown paper. There were stamps on the paper, it had been opened a long time ago and torn apart. In the middle of it all was the revolver. Sinclair’s face turned white, his mouth fell open and he stared as though he’d seen a ghost. Everybody stopped talking and watched. Then he walked to the edge of the lake and threw the gun as far as he could.’

  I was beginning to wish I’d brought a notebook. ‘What type of gun was it?’

  ‘An Enfield.’ She probably knew quite a lot about guns, given the nature of the household.

  ‘The parcel was from Alaska?’

  ‘No, silly. Someone had taken it from Papa’s old rooms.’

  ‘Ah, so it hadn’t actually been sent from Alaska.’ I’d been puzzling over why Sinclair had thought Bertram St George was behind it.

  ‘Of course not. All Papa’s belongings were returned to Lanscombe after he died.’

  Well, that was one minor mystery solved. I wondered how sensitive she’d be to the subject of Randolph St George.

  ‘But your father died in Alaska.’

  She nodded. ‘Papa had some wild dream of finding gold and Sinclair was determined to make his fortune. He wanted to exploit one of Papa’s inventions, but they didn’t find very much gold. Sinclair went to Boston after Papa was killed,’ she continued. ‘He died when I was a baby, but Grandma keeps his memory alive. I… I still feel close to him.’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I’m being quite ridiculous, aren’t I.’

  I returned a smile. ‘Does your mother speak of him?’

  ‘No, she says it’s all in the past.’ Her smile wavered. ‘I’ve asked her… actually, I used to plague her about it. Whenever I was home from boarding school, I would pretend to be a detective, uncovering the mystery of who Papa was and how he died. It made Sinclair so angry, and that made me even more determined.’

  ‘Why do you dislike Sinclair so much?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s manipulative and ruthless and he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.’ Her face fell, all animation died away.

  ‘And he took your father’s place?’

  ‘It’s not just that…’ Her eyes caught mine. ‘Did you find a sixpence on the floor in his office?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I put it on his desk.’

  ‘It was a test, to see how honest you are. He does it to everyone. If someone keeps it, he says they can be bought cheaply. If they give it back to him, they’ll be more expensive, or maybe they have to be exploited in some other way.’

  ‘Not very subtle.’

  She laughed without humour. ‘He doesn’t need to be.’

  Foggy began barking again.

  ‘Lydia?’ A voice called out. ‘What is this dog doing here?’

  ‘Oh, it’s Jerome.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘He’s called Fogg, he’s with us,’ she called.

  ‘Wait.’ Questions were churning in my mind, but it was too late.

  ‘Hello, you here, Lennox.’ Jerome greeted me in the same friendly manner as before.

  He turned to address Lydia. ‘Are you going to dinner in that get up, darling? You look like you’re ready for a hike in the woods.’

  She laughed, her good humour restored. ‘I could. What do you think? Will they send me to my room without supper?’

  He returned her amusement, his eyes seeking hers. ‘No, you know they won’t, but it would upset your mother.’

  ‘Oh, I was only teasing.’ She turned to me. ‘Heathcliff, we’ll see you later.’

  Jerome hesitated and said. ‘Just a word of warning, old man. Sinclair doesn’t like animals. Keep it in mind, would you.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I should have mentioned it.’ Lydia smiled and took her fiancé’s proffered arm.

  ‘What were you talking about?’ Jerome asked.

  ‘Papa, and the package…’

  ‘You really mustn’t worry about it, Lydia,’ he replied.

  ‘Oh, but I do.’ She looked up at him as they walked away together.

  ‘Fogg,’ I called. He came to me, tail wagging happily. The sun touched the horizon to wash storm-laden clouds with violent colour; purple, black and a shimmer of deep red reflected in the still waters of the lake.

  I stooped to pick up Tubbs as the first spots of rain began to fall. It was too late to find the castle now and besides, I needed to dress for dinner, ready to meet Persi again. Which was when I realised that it would be in front of everyone in the house…

  Chapter 7

  ‘Lydia sent the telegram to Braeburn!’ Swift was incredulous. I’d told him the details about the gun and Sinclair’s party, but Lydia’s piece of mischief seemed to excite him more.

  ‘Yes, and she telephoned Ashton Steeple pretending to be Persi.’

  We were in my room. I was trying to dress for dinner in the hope of making a good impression. Greggs had been helping, but he’d made such a fuss that I sent him downstairs.

  ‘Damn it, Lennox, why didn’t she just tell us?’ He was already togged in smart evening wear.

  I was searching through my bedside drawer. ‘Where would Greggs put cufflinks?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Swift sounded exasperated. ‘All this pretext about Persi and…’

  ‘I’ve borne the brunt of that one, Swift,’ I reminded him, although he wasn’t listening.

  ‘It took me the best part of an hour to convince the sergeant that the accident could be malicious. Now he’s preparing another search of the site and the wreckage.’ He was more concerned about his standing with the police.

  I found the cufflinks! They were in a leather case in the tall boy. It was a bit of a fiddle to fit them. ‘Did you mention the stick?’

  ‘It was a stick in a forest, Lennox.’ He was acerbic for no good reason. ‘No, of course I didn’t mention it. We need concrete proof, not evidence which I contaminated myself.’

  ‘What about the statements? Was anyone missing at the time Monroe was killed?’

  ‘It wasn’t a murder enquiry, so they didn’t take statements. And none of the staff was missing long enough to have gone to the Dell and back.’

  The mirror was too mottled to see very much in it. I straightened my tie, combed fingers through my hair and stuffed a clean handkerchief in my top pocket.

 
‘Not even Trent?’ I persisted.

  ‘No, no-one.’

  I paused to regard him. ‘But if none of the staff was missing, then it could only be one of the family.’

  He returned my gaze. ‘I know.’

  ‘Hell.’ I thought about it. ‘I doubt Lydia considered that when she tricked us into coming here.’

  ‘No, and let’s hope she doesn’t come to regret it. Come on, Lennox.’ He made for the door.

  ‘Right… Swift, wait. My bowtie isn’t…?’

  I was too late, he was already trotting down the stairs. I picked up Fogg and Tubbs to take them to the warm kitchen. Greggs was stirring something in a pot under Lady Millicent’s direction. I greeted them with a grin and put the little duo down.

  Greggs paused, ladle in hand. ‘May I wish you good luck, sir?’

  ‘It’s just dinner…’ I began.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ Lady Millicent came to me and reached on tiptoe to kiss me on the cheek. ‘Now, remember, faint heart never won fair maiden.’

  St George had been sitting at the table with his nose in a book. He got up and shuffled over to slap me on the back. ‘Courage!’ He ordered. ‘Off you go, my lad.’

  Swift was waiting and we set off at a fast pace to arrive in the grand hall. A sentinel footman pointed us in the direction of the drawing room, which proved to be upstairs and only a short distance from Sinclair’s office.

  The place was even more splendid than the other staterooms. Tall windows draped with gold damask ran the length of one wall. Persian rugs carefully placed on polished parquet, sofas arranged in informal groups, a grand piano, gilt and white wall panelling hung with gilded mirrors and portraits of ladies and gentlemen in magnificent attire. It was all brightly lit by two huge electric chandeliers hanging from the lofty ceiling.

  Lydia greeted us as we walked in. She wore a rose-hued silk frock with pearls. ‘Oh, do come and have some champagne. We’ve already started.’

  Jerome was behind her in formal evening dress, a smooth smile on his face.

  Trent was on duty. He stood near the open double doors, directing footmen. He nodded briskly to a servant, who took the hint and stepped forward with a tray of flutes filled with bubbly. I’m not usually keen on champagne but one sip changed my mind; it was superb.