Sinclair strode in behind us. ‘So, the ardent knight arrives with his trusty squire.’ He laughed without amusement.
I didn’t think it was funny. Neither did Swift judging by his face.
Jerome sidestepped us to address Sinclair. ‘Sir, could I discuss the latest figures…’ He indicated he had something of importance to impart. They detached themselves and went into a huddle near the piano. Trent hissed instructions to his minions, then discreetly crossed the room to place himself within hailing distance of his Lordship.
‘Persi is with Mama.’ Lydia slipped her hand under my arm. She tried to tug me to the other end of the room, where a collection of high-backed sofas were grouped around a blazing fire.
‘Just a moment.’ I downed my champagne and grabbed another from a passing footman.
‘Lydia, I want to talk to you about…’ Swift began.
‘No, I’m not saying a word until Heathcliff has come to say hello.’ She pulled at my arm again.
I finished the champagne, smoothed my jacket and followed her across the room.
‘Oh, Lennox, there you are.’ Lady Penelope stood to greet us. ‘And Inspector Swift.’
‘I… erm, greetings,’ I stuttered.
Persi was sitting on a sofa. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t even glance up. She looked stunning, her blonde hair gleaming, a cameo around her neck and the same green silk gown she’d worn when we’d been in Damascus together. My throat was suddenly dry, I’d been waiting… wanting to see her again…
‘What?’
‘I said, do please sit down,’ Lady Penelope repeated, she gave me a smile of encouragement.
Persi still hadn’t deigned to turn in my direction, so I took a sofa of my own. Swift went to sit next to her, she gave him a tight smile.
Lydia had waited until we’d positioned ourselves, then perched next to me. More champagne was offered, I downed it. It really was jolly good stuff, and I was feeling distinctly light headed. I was just about to risk a greeting to Persi, when Lydia leaned forward.
‘Persi’s thinking of going back to Egypt,’ she announced.
‘What?’ That was a shock. ‘I… are you really going?’
‘Yes,’ Persi replied calmly. ‘The team think they’re close to a discovery, they’ve asked me to return and I’ve agreed.’
‘No… I mean, don’t. Persi, you… you can’t.’ I spoke without thinking.
‘Why?’ She turned her lovely face to gaze at me, her grey-blue eyes glittering with what looked awfully like anger.
‘Because… Because, it’s not… I…’ I was on the tip of babbling and stopped, closing my mouth shut. That didn’t help, and she looked away.
‘Sorry, I’m late.’ Max strode in, smart in evening wear, although his dark hair was uncombed. He dropped onto a sofa opposite us. ‘So, how goes the romantic intrigue?’
‘Do try to be discrete, darling,’ Lady Penelope admonished him.
I saw colour flush in Persi’s cheeks.
‘Max, you’re such a twit,’ Lydia hissed, which didn’t help.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Max sighed in exasperation.
I watched the interplay, aware that one of them could have planned Monroe’s death, although I admit, my attention was mostly taken with Persi.
Footmen continued the rounds with champagne trays, I took another glass, so did everyone else. Sinclair and Jerome remained on the other side of the room, deep in conversation.
‘Are you really going to return to Egypt?’ Swift asked Persi.
She gave a strained smile and nodded mutely. My heart sank, I tried to think of something to say.
‘I heard the police were here again today. Have they uncovered signs of dastardly deeds?’ Max said, his question apparently casual, but I saw a muscle tic in his jaw.
Swift answered in a professional manner. ‘I asked them to make another search of the site.’
Max directed his taunting at me. ‘What did you find in the Dell, Major Sleuth?’
‘A stick,’ I replied.
He frowned, but didn’t let up. ‘Well, that about sums up your enquiries. Raking over a simple tragedy for nothing but…’
‘Max,’ Lady Penelope raised her voice. ‘That’s enough. Stop antagonising our guests.’
‘What is wrong with you, Max?’ Lydia objected. ‘You’re being simply beastly.’
‘Ha. Max being beastly, I can’t imagine it.’ Jerome had strolled over and came to sit next to Lydia. He said something quietly to her. It must have been amusing as she giggled. They looked genuinely happy together. I looked away. Sinclair had gone off somewhere, Trent was missing too. I glanced at Persi, she’d leaned over to talk to Swift. By the soppy smile on his face it was probably about his new baby.
‘Hey folks, any bubbly left? I’ve just struck a deal and I’m in the mood to celebrate.’ Finn sauntered in. He took one glance at Persi and switched tack to head in her direction.
‘Oh, Finn,’ Lydia called to him. ‘You really must learn to arrive on time, Sinclair becomes so irritable if we’re late.’
‘Ha,’ Finn laughed at the comment, but his eyes hadn’t left Persi. ‘The old man knows business comes first.’
‘We have guests,’ Lady Penelope reminded him.
‘Hey guys.’ He waved in our general direction, then bowed extravagantly in front of Persi. ‘And hello to you, my lovely lady.’ He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. She didn’t protest.
The room suddenly fell very quiet and everyone looked from Finn and Persi, to me.
‘I must apologise for my stepson’s lapse in manners,’ Lady Penelope broke in. ‘Finn came for his father’s birthday party, and is staying for the season.’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Finn sat down next to Persi. ‘I came over on the cruise liner. Wasn’t going to miss my Pop’s birthday bash and I have business in London.’
‘You’ve visited before?’ Swift questioned while I considered hitting the American.
‘I came to look my British family up a few years back, we got on so well I spent last fall here. Ain’t that right, Mom,’ he grinned at Lady Penelope, then addressed us. ‘This lady here is the best stepmom in the world. Made sure I was cared for as a kid, then gathered me to the family bosom when I found my way to these shores. She’s a genuine saint.’
‘Finn, would you please come and sit by me,’ Lady Penelope ordered him.
‘Sure. Hey, Heathcliff, sorry, old man, was I in your place?’ He jumped to his feet. ‘Here, it’s all yours.’ He waved a hand towards the spot he’d vacated next to Persi.
Her eyes flashed a warning, so I stayed where I was.
Finn shrugged and resumed his post. It did him no good. Persi stared at the fire, so he turned to chat to Max and they both laughed about something. I watched Persi, she seemed forlorn. I wanted to talk to her, to take her hand and explain, but couldn’t, not in front of such a crowd.
‘Finn, you’re late.’ Sinclair came back into the room and joined the group. He was clutching a large tumbler of whisky and sat down next to Lady Penelope. Trent had also returned and now began harassing the footmen.
‘Hey Pop, that deal I told you about went off. Got me a corker.’ Finn was served a glass of champagne, he was as effervescent as the bubbly.
‘Well done, Finn. Chase down the detail, that’s where the money is,’ Sinclair replied approvingly.
‘Along with the devil,’ Finn laughed.
Sinclair turned to Jerome. ‘You’ve got to send that telegraph to New York before eight.’
‘I’ll go before dinner…’ Jerome pulled his sleeve back to check his gold wristwatch.
‘Good, make sure of it. Can’t risk missing this one, there’s a small fortune involved.’
‘Oh, please leave business for a moment, Sinclair,’ Lady Penelope offered a mild reprimand.
Sinclair could have brushed the remark off, but his cheeks flushed with anger. ‘Who’s going to pay for all your pretty baubles, lady? And this h
ouse? I work night and day and not one of you is grateful for what I’ve done.’ He finished his whisky in one gulp, Trent was instantly at his side with a replacement.
Silence fell. I could hear the drumbeat of rain on the window panes. I had my eyes on Persi who had averted her gaze and was looking distinctly uncomfortable. Lydia was upset, her hand gripping Jerome’s.
I’d had enough, I stood up. ‘You’re a bully and a boor, Sinclair.’
His head whipped around in fury. ‘Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?’
‘Lennox,’ Lady Penelope cautioned. ‘Thank you, but I am quite capable of handling my husband.’
‘You shouldn’t have to, Penelope. Heathcliff is right,’ Persi rejoined in anger. I grinned, that was more like my fearless girl.
‘No-one talks to me like that. Get out, you…’ Sinclair yelled, then stopped mid-threat as the chandeliers flickered off and on. ‘God damn it, Trent. Don’t let the power fail…’
The bulbs flickered again, then shut off. The room fell dark, with nothing but the blazing fire to light us.
‘Please remain seated.’ Trent’s voice came from a distance. ‘I will change the fuse, my Lord. It will only take an instant.’
‘Hell and damnation,’ Sinclair swore. ‘I pay through the nose for the best electrical installations in the country and the bloody lights go out every time there’s a storm.’
‘Sinclair, it will only be a moment.’ Lady Penelope sought to calm him. ‘And it’s an exaggeration to say it happens every time.’
‘Will you stop lecturing me…’ Sinclair started another tirade.
‘Leave her alone,’ Max yelled. I could see his face in the firelight. There was fury in him and it looked as if it were about to be unleashed.
‘No Max, please…’ Lydia begged.
‘Help.’ A shout rang out. ‘Help. Come quickly.’ A man’s voice yelled from the distant darkness. ‘I think he’s dead.’
Chapter 8
‘Who has a torch?’ Swift was on his feet in an instant.
‘Nobody carries a torch to dinner,’ Max snapped.
‘Where are the candles?’ Lady Penelope had risen too, Lydia joined her.
‘Jerome, that telegraph has to go to New York.’ Sinclair growled. ‘Get the power back on.’
‘Somebody needs help. Come on, Lennox.’ Swift was already moving towards the door. I made to join him with Jerome on my heels.
‘I’m coming,’ Persi called, I turned and waited for her to reach my side. I gave her a grin but she probably couldn’t see it in the darkness.
‘I’m right behind you, little lady,’ Finn called.
‘No, you stay with the family,’ Swift shouted back at him.
‘They don’t need me…’ he argued.
Sinclair bellowed out orders. ‘Finn, come back here. Jerome, hurry up and switch the damned power back on.’
We passed as quickly as we could through the dimly lit drawing room – knocking into furniture and cursing quietly – then out into the dark passageway.
I realised Max was behind us.
‘Hop, hop, old man,’ he needled Jerome.
Jerome turned to frown at him, he didn’t say anything but I could sense his irritation.
We carried on down the corridor towards the grand hall and stopped on the landing. The ceiling above us was in total blackness, the floor below showed a glimmer of light.
‘Who’s there?’ Swift leaned over the bannisters to peer down. A lamp appeared from under the stairs and moved towards the centre, throwing shadows across the chequered tiles.
‘It’s me, Billie,’ the hall boy called up. ‘Something happened to Mr Trent. They said he’s dead.’
‘Has anyone called the police?’ Swift demanded.
‘Or an ambulance?’ I added.
‘The telephones don’t work, sir, nothing works without the electric.’ His voice shook with shock.
‘Damn,’ Swift muttered. He led the way quickly downstairs, we crossed the hall and formed a ring around Billie.
‘Why aren’t the lights back on?’ Jerome demanded.
Billie looked close to tears. ‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Jerome, he just said Trent is dead,’ Persi rebuked him.
‘Billie, where is Trent?’ Swift asked.
‘By the fuse room, sir, they dared not move him.’ His voice cracked.
‘Come on, show us the way,’ Swift ordered.
‘Aye, sir.’ Billie took us to a discrete door leading to a set of stairs. We went down and entered a long corridor below ground. The floor was flagged with stone, the walls unadorned brick, typical of many of the large, old houses I’d been in. Doors and passages led off, shrouded in darkness. There were more lights ahead and a huddle of figures were silhouetted beneath.
‘Trent?’ Jerome called.
‘He’s been electrocuted,’ a voice replied.
Two footmen were standing with lanterns held aloft, three others were kneeling beside a prone figure in the centre. Trent lay deathly pale, his short hair awry, his mouth contorted into a rictus snarl, eyes wide and bulging beneath a deeply furrowed brow. He looked shocked, which in the circumstances was to be expected, I suppose.
‘Good lord, so he really is…’ Max uttered.
‘Persi, perhaps you’d rather not…’ I began.
‘Heathcliff, I specialise in corpses.’
‘Long dead ones,’ I replied, knowing her passion for forensic archaeology. ‘And not Heathcliff, old stick.’ I reminded her, then thought better of it. ‘Erm… unless…’
She wasn’t listening, she had bent to examine the corpse with a professional eye.
‘What do you think?’ Swift asked her.
‘He died instantly.’ Persi said quietly. ‘It must have been a powerful current.’
Swift muttered something under his breath, then strode over to the fuse room.
I grabbed Billie’s storm lantern out of his hands. ‘Swift, don’t touch anything.’ I caught up with him.
‘I’m not an idiot, Lennox, I’m going to lock it.’ He’d tugged out his handkerchief to reach for the brass doorknob.
I raised the lantern. The fuse box was the standard black metal board with copper dials and wires, dominated by the long handle of the power-switch. The floor was covered by a thin layer of water, something gleamed under the slick surface. I’d hardly registered it when Swift yanked the door closed and turned the key in the lock.
Jerome pushed past the men to reach us. ‘Stop. You can’t. We have to isolate the fuse and turn the electricity back on.’
‘No-one is to enter this room, the police need to search it,’ Swift declared.
‘I must insist you open the door,’ Jerome sounded panicked.
‘No.’ Swift wasn’t intimidated. He put the key in his jacket pocket.
‘Mr Jerome, you mustn’t, it’s too dangerous.’ One of the younger footmen came forward to join us. ‘Sorry, to speak out, sir, but there are live cables in there. No-one should risk going in before daylight.’
‘He’s right,’ Max spoke up. ‘Of course, you could make the attempt, Jerome. If you think it’s worth it.’
Jerome hesitated, no doubt weighing Sinclair’s wrath against the consequences of a wrong move in the fuse room. ‘That stock transaction was worth a fortune,’ he muttered.
‘Did anyone see what happened?’ Swift’s interest lay in the dead man.
‘I was with him on the occasion, sir.’ It was Mullins, the footman who’d attended Lady Penelope.
‘Oh hell!’ Jerome suddenly called out. ‘If the electricity remains off, the alarms won’t be working. We must secure the building, get back to your posts. All the security lights will be out. Make sure the windows and doors are locked and guarded.’
‘Wait, I need to question this man,’ Swift indicated to Mullins.
‘Right, the rest of you must go. You too, Billie,’ Jerome told them. ‘Come on, hurry up.’
They left at a run, their footstep
s thudding along the corridor. We waited until the noise died away.
Max had been watching in the shadows. ‘There’s no point staying here. Are you coming, Persi? Dinner will be off, but Mama will have ordered cold cuts around the fire.’
‘No,’ Persi replied sharply. ‘This man’s dead, and all you’re thinking about is your own comfort.’
‘Exactly, he’s dead,’ Max replied. ‘Why not leave it to the detectives while we care for the living?’
‘I’d rather stay.’ She looked from me to Swift. ‘If I may?’
‘Yes, please do,’ Swift replied with enthusiasm.
‘Suit yourself,’ Max retorted and walked off into the darkness.
Swift turned to the footman. ‘Why were you here, Mullins?’
‘I am senior footman, sir. I came to assist Mr Trent. I held the lantern as he entered the fuse room.’ Mullins spoke slowly, as though measuring his words.
‘What did you see?’ I asked.
I observed Mr Trent reach for the handle of the power-switch to pull it down into the off position. But…’ He frowned, white brows drawn together. ‘But, as he grasped the handle there was a flash and a bang, and he was thrown bodily through the doorway. He cried out, it was most unlike him. I hastened to drag him away as it was quite evident the situation was dangerous. I’m afraid it was too late; he was dead.’
We gazed at him for a moment.
‘Right, well done, old chap. Very brave of you,’ I commended.
He gave a modest bow of the head. ‘It was my duty, sir.’
‘Was there anyone else down here?’ Swift questioned.
‘No, sir. Only Mr Trent and myself,’ Mullins replied. He had a way of speaking which was quite old fashioned to our ears.
‘We’ll examine the body.’ Swift shifted into action. He knelt down and carefully turned Trent’s head to check if there was blood or any injury. Suspicious as ever, he never accepted the obvious.
Persi picked up Trent’s right hand for a better look at the glove. I held the lamp above her, her blonde hair burnished in the light. I could smell her perfume, it was faint and flowery like a… ‘What?’
The Tomb of the Chatelaine: A 1920s Country House Murder Mystery (Heathcliff Lennox Book 6) Page 7