Blood Ties

by Oliver Davies

  “Oh, it was,” he shook his head darkly.

  “We know that dinner was at seven, and at this point, Lord Hocking locked his office. At midnight, the party began to simmer down, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, this is the window of time we’re most interested in.”

  “Oh, well. We didn’t stick together much,” Kareena said. “You were off playing cards for a few hours.”

  “It wasn’t a few hours, surely?”

  “No, it was. I had to come and get him,” she told me with a wink.

  “What were you doing?”

  “I was with Lady Hocking for some time, and Eloise. Lots of mingling,” she said, “I remember seeing Nathan carrying Sadie upstairs, and then thinking it was time to get Navin. Oh!” She looked up suddenly. “At nine, Eloise called her mother to check on the babies. I was with her then, I remember that.”

  I watched from the corner of my eye as Mills made a note. This would be one hell of a timeline when it was said and done.

  “So, you were both upstairs by midnight?”

  “We were. Need to have a good night's rest.”

  “Thank you both.” I smiled at them. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  They smiled cheerily and headed back to their plates of food.

  “Last ones,” Mills muttered, standing and waving to the young men who quickly got up and came over.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” I said as they sat. “We hope this won’t take up too much time.”

  “We are happy to help,” Tommy said, his hand clasped in his husband’s.

  “How long have you known Lord and Lady Hocking?”

  “Not too long, really. A few years, I believe. This our third time being invited,” he added with a touch of pride.

  “And you are familiar with the house, with Lord Hocking’s collection?”

  “We’ve not been inside the study,” Jacob said, “but we know it’s important to him. It is good to have a private place for yourself.”

  “That it is. Can you tell us anything about last night that might be useful to us?”

  They shared a look and then turned back to us, leaning forward slightly.

  “I did see this one small thing when I was looking for Jacob at one point,” Tommy said. “One of the waitresses came from the hallway, the one the study lies down.”

  “Was she carrying anything?” Mills asked.

  “Only the tray. But I thought that was odd, since there would not be anyone needing drinks down there.”

  “Do have any idea what time this might have been?” I asked him.

  “Perhaps, eleven? Just before I found you,” he said to Jacob, who nodded in confirmation.

  “Can you describe the waitress?” I asked.

  He shook his head, dismissively. “She was a waitress. A tray, a little apron. Not very distinguishing but then they never are, really, are they?”

  “And they had those vans,” his husband added. “Easy to get things into, those vans.”

  I frowned and leant back in my chair, studying the men before looking to Mills. He met my gaze and gave a slight jerk of the shoulder. Not much to go on, but someone being down that hall at that time of night was interesting.

  “You suspect,” I turned back to them, “that this was the staff?”

  “Who else?”

  “Who else, indeed,” I replied, standing up abruptly.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. Everyone,” I addressed the room, “please do get in touch if you think of anything else that might be of use to us.”

  As I strode from the room, I called back. “Mills.”

  “Talk to the staff?” he asked once he caught up, and we were out of earshot from the table.

  “Which staff, Mills? There were more than one here last night.”

  Five

  Thatcher

  We made our way, somehow, through the labyrinth of rooms back to the entrance hall, where Henry and Eloise stood. He was helping her into her coat when we emerged from the dark corridor,

  “Ah, detectives. I hope our guests were of some help?”

  “Some. It’s helping us to get a better picture of the night.”

  “Are you leaving?” Mills asked as Eloise pulled a handbag over her shoulder

  “Have to go and pick the twins up from nursery. Did I need to stay here?” she asked uncertainly.

  “No, we’re about done here. Just the staff to talk to, if we may.”

  “Of course.” Henry kissed his wife’s cheek and took us out through the front door, down onto the drive and round the back to where the vans were being steadily loaded with the borrowed glasses and plates.

  “I would have thought that you would have enough cutlery and glassware in that place to suffice for a party,” I commented to Henry. He slowed his pace, sticking his hands into his pockets.

  “Not as much as you’d think. Most of it is very old, and after one too many breakages over the years, this was thought to be the better solution. They provide it all themselves.” He nodded to the logo on the side of the van. “Makes it an easier transaction overall.”

  “Your mother mentioned that you’ve been using this company for some time,” I recalled.

  “We have.”

  “No trouble with them before?”

  “No,” he let out a long breath, “shame really. They’ve always been brilliant before. I suppose we’ll have to find a new company.”

  “Don’t go counting your chickens before they hatch, Mr Hocking. This could all be a misunderstanding. Like I told your mother, we suspect that this has a more personal incentive.”

  “Can’t think of anyone who would do that.” He shrugged. “Everyone who knows father well enough to have seen that painting, and there are very few of them,” he added, “are too beloved to have done it.”

  “There’s no one else,” I asked, “no one from the past, no one who might have something against your father or your family?”

  He turned to the house, looking up at the windows and the sandstone bricks,

  “No,” he eventually said shortly, coming to a stop a few metres from the van. A woman with a clipboard, dressed in a smart black dress stood in front of it, watching us.

  “That’s Maria Russo,” he told us. “She owns the company. She’ll have all the information you need. She’s got about ten of them here this morning to finish the cleaning, and all them were here last night.” He lifted his face into the sun. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not right now, Mr Hocking. Thank you,” I said sincerely. He smiled, taking a few steps backwards before jogging over to his wife, opening her car door for her.

  “They’re a very helpful family,” Mills said as he waved her off and returned to the house.

  “They are, aren’t they?”

  “At first, I thought this might be an insurance thing. But it’s not.”

  “No, it isn’t. Seems very certain that no friends of theirs would do something like this,” I commented.

  He glanced sideways at me. “But you suspect otherwise.”

  “They made the effort, Mills,” I said quietly as we walked toward Ms Russo. “They made the effort to get into the study and steal that one particular painting.”

  “Might have to brush up on some art history,” he replied as the woman strode out to meet us.

  “You’re the police?” she asked as she brushed an errant hair from her face, her expression determined.

  “We are. Detective Inspector Thatcher and Detective Sergeant Mills.”

  “Maria Russo,” she looked worried, “I can assure you, detectives, that none of my staff would do something like this. They are all very loyal, very honest people.” She sounded certain, protective over her team. I didn’t blame her for being so.

  “We’ve heard that you have been catering for this party for some years?”

  “We have.” She squared her shoulders. “Not a single problem, never one complaint. They even asked for us to do their New Year’s Eve once o
r twice.”

  “And have your staff been with you long?”

  “Most of them. We’re a family company, inspector,” she told me. “We don’t chop and change our staff a lot. Only when someone wants to move on.”

  “How many of them were working last night?”

  “Fourteen. And I was also here.”

  “Have they all worked in this house before?”

  “I have two new girls: they’ve been with us since January. They’re here for the first time, but I train them well,” she said proudly. She led us around the back of the van, the doors wide open, to the gathering of people loitered around. Some of them sat, squished in the back of the van, a few leant against the side, and three of them sat on the ground, sharing a cigarette.

  “Everyone,” Maria announced, drawing their attention. They were a mixed bunch. I had been expecting a group of youths, in between college and university, but that was a mistake to assume. A mixture of ages, an older lady with a younger leaning on her shoulder, two young lads and a girl smoking with an older gentleman; all of them well presented, fresh-faced. A family company it very much seemed to be.

  “These are the detectives,” she introduced us. “They have a few questions for you about last night. I will be inside if I am needed. Doing some inventory.”

  “By all means.” I stood aside, letting her pass, and turned to the group.

  “We’re not thieves,” one of the lads called in a thick accent.

  “I never said you were,” I replied, dragging an empty crate over and sitting on it. Mills stood to my side, notebook not in site, hands in his pockets.

  “They think we are,” another one piped up.

  “You have a good reputation as being very reliable staff.” I picked off some lint from my coat. “The family thinks highly of you, trusts you.”

  “They did,” a girl added glumly. “Now they think we’re thieves, and we lose one of our best clients.”

  “All I’m asking,” I said evenly, “is for some information about last night. You were all working, sober, which is more than can be said for them lot.” I jerked my thumb to the house behind me. “So if any of you saw anything different, anything out of sorts, that’s all we want to know.”

  There was a shared, communal pause, where they all looked at each other.

  “You said there were people down the hallway, Nadia,” the older woman looked to one of the younger girls on the floor, “the one down by the study.”

  Mills shifted his weight beside me. She must be the waitress from the hallway. She looked up from beneath a curtain of shining black hair, picking at the callouses on her hands. She looked to be in her late twenties, huddled in a large cardigan.

  “Some of them,” she said quietly, looking over my shoulder to the house, “not the family, some other ones. Young.”

  “What were they doing down there?”

  “Just talking, drinking. I heard them as I was picking up glasses, so I went to check, and reminded them that Lord Hocking said it’s off-limits.”

  “Unnerved you a bit, didn’t they, lass?” the old man said, rubbing her shoulder.

  “How so?” Mills asked.

  “Drunk young man,” she shrugged. “Thought he’d try to have a chat with me.”

  “Did he do anything?” I asked her carefully.

  “No,” she shook her head, “his friends called him away. I picked up the glasses they left behind and went to find Will.” She smiled at the young man with the cigarette. “Didn’t much feel like working on my own after that, so I went out for a quick smoke.”

  “Nadia’s new,” one of the younger lads called, “her and Jen.” He nodded to the girl leaning against the van, her hair dyed with streaks of purple.

  “It can be daunting in a place like that, on your first time.”

  “But everything went as usual?”

  “Clockwork. We are all out by what, half twelve?” They looked at Robbie.

  “I’d say so,” he confirmed. “It was my turn to drive.”

  “What time did you see them down by the study, Nadia?” I asked her.

  She pulled at the end of her sleeve, on a loose bit of thread. “It was around eleven? Around that time, that girl got carried off. Who was that?”

  “One of the guests had a bit too much, and her brother had to intervene.” The older woman sounded somewhat disapproving.

  I nodded. “And did you see anyone around there? Down any of the other halls?”

  She thought for a moment, pursing her lips. “The butler was around,” she said eventually. “Sort of down by the kitchens, you know? I think they keep wine down there.”

  “In the cellar?”

  “Well, I didn’t go down,” she said quickly, defensively.

  “Where was the van parked last night? Surely it would be in the way around here?”

  “Oh, aye. We usually park round the back.” Robbie pointed to the other side of the house. “There’s a little yard out there. Keeps us out of the way of the other cars that were coming in.”

  “How many of you were out there? Around eleven?” I asked, leaning on my knees.

  “There was me,” Will pointed to himself, “Nadia, Farah,” he pointed to another girl, a colourful scarf draped around her head, “Luca,” the lad beside him, the one with the thick accent raised his hand, “and Sam. But Sam’s not here this morning. Hospital appointment.”

  “Did any of you see anyone else coming out into the yard? Any of the guests or the permanent staff in the house?”

  “Don’t think so. We are all a bit focused on Nadia, truth be told,” Luca said, “wanted to make sure she was alright.” He nudged her with her shoulder, and she smiled gratefully.

  “Not anywhere to go from there, anyway,” Farah added, “except the garages, or you just end up in the grounds.”

  “No one at all?” Mills asked, a little desperately.

  “We have reason to think that the thief left the house through the cellars,” I told them. “They’d have come through the yard.”

  The four of them look startled, heads popping up to stare at me, Will’s cigarette hanging from his mouth.

  “When we were out there?” he asked.

  “If it was around eleven, possibly.”

  Luca let out a curse that earned him a light smack over the head from Robbie,

  “Apologies for my grandson, inspector.”

  I smiled. “An understandable word for the circumstances.”

  “It was quite dark by then,” Farah said. “There are no lights out there. The family haven’t gotten them fixed, since they never go out that way.”

  A lucky break from the thief, or something they already knew?

  “Was it a big painting?” the older woman asked.

  “Moderately sized.”

  “I’m sorry,” Will looked up at us, his expression genuine. “Should have paid more attention.”

  “You were there for a break,” I assured him, not letting my annoyance show, “not to keep watch on the property.”

  “Doesn’t help our case,” Luca said, “that they think it was us who took it.”

  “If we can clear your alibis, all should be well. Can you confirm any of these times we’ve been discussing?” I asked.

  “Nadia came out around eleven,” Farah said surely. “We had the radio on, remember, and it was around the newsbeat? So, half eleven, maybe?”

  “And before then?”

  “We were inside,” the older woman told us. “Two of us in each of the main rooms with Maria circulating between us. Hurts your feet,” she kicked her legs out, “but it’s not bad work.”

  “What about the people down the hallway?” Mills asked Nadia. “Did you hear any of their names?”

  “Just the boy,” she said, “the others called him Humphrey.”

  I made a mental note to check our guest list for Humphrey and refrained from letting out a groan. They were all down there at the right time, someone must have seen something, and yet the only
other person Nadia saw down that side of the house was the butler. It wasn’t adding up right, none of it was.

  “The rest of you should get back to work,” I told them, rubbing my hand over the face. “Nadia, if you don’t mind talking to us a bit longer?”

  She shook her head, climbing up from the floor as the others all got back to work and walked towards us, leaning against the wall of the house.

  “When you were down in the hallway,” I began, “was there anything coming from the study? Any noise, a light on underneath the door?”

  “No light,” she said surely. “I don’t think I heard anything, but the music was so loud, it was hard to tell.”

  “Do you know if there was anyone around after you left? Did you hear a door open? See anyone?”

  “The only person I saw before going outside was the butler, down by the kitchens.”

  “How did you get out into the yard?” Mills asked abruptly. “Did you use the front door?”

  “No,” she folded her arms around herself, “there’s a door sort of to the side. I think they call it the boot room. We came through there. Goes onto the drive, then just round the corner to the yard.”

  “Were you close to the kitchens out there? Could you see that door?”

  “Not really. We were parked further up,” she said, “more towards the boot room.”

  “And when you saw the butler,” I asked, “what was he doing?”

  “Couldn’t really tell,” she answered doubtfully. “Tidying, I think. What do butlers even actually do?”

  “Was he carrying anything?”

  “He had his back to me, but he was a bit hunched over. I thought he might have just been a bit tired. Long days, he must work. Especially when there’s a party going on in the evening.”

  “So, he didn’t see you?”

  “Not that I know of. Sort of hurried away, I think he was busy.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Down that hallway, to the kitchen.”

  “And these people in the hallway,” I brought us back round to them, “how did they seem?”

  “Rich, drunk young people,” she lifted one shoulder in a shrug, “lounging about like they owned the place, giving us more work. Laughing a lot like they had an inside joke. I didn’t like them,” she said abruptly, firmly. “I didn’t like being around them.”