A Forgotten Murder

by Jude Deveraux

“But there were two engagements.”

  “She said I should understand how insignificant they were. They are merely ‘plot devices.’”

  “Oh,” Kate said. “Did you hit her?”

  “I wanted to. She was rude, condescending and lying. After every person I mentioned, she’d get a little glazed look in her eyes. I think she was remembering the truth.”

  “Which she wasn’t about to tell you.”

  “Jack votes for Mrs. Aiken being a killer. I think it was Lady Nadine. Who gets your vote?”

  “Puck.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Yes. But the others were taken. Puck was the only one left.”

  Sara grimaced. “I can hardly wait to meet the rest of this crew.”

  Kate laughed. “Should we draw straws? Loser gets the hated Clive.”

  “As long as Jack doesn’t get Byon. We may never see him again. Speaking of whom, where did he run off to when Nadine drove up in her I-am-rich car?”

  “No idea. Probably off to see Puck.”

  “And her giant bathtub,” Sara said.

  “With the ghost things in it?”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “Puck said that house was boarded up. But her ladyship knew about the bathtub in it.”

  “How interesting,” Kate said. “And Sean used to skulk about in the cemetery.”

  “And the queen was...?”

  “In the bathtub?” Kate was smiling.

  Sara grinned. “She thinks she told me nothing, but she may have told me something very big.”

  “And yet again, Sara Medlar dines on the living carcass of a suspect.”

  Sara’s burst of laughter reverberated through the old room.

  Nine

  Jack was in the loft of the stables when the ladder crashed to the floor. He thought he heard footsteps but maybe it was just rats. In the back room, he’d found a bag of oats with a hole in the bottom. The loft was one big room with closed doors to the outside, where hay could be loaded. There were still some old harnesses lying about, but it was mostly empty, and the space covered the entire stable.

  He was on his belly, looking over the edge and trying to figure out how to get down without breaking any bones when he saw the woman enter through a side door. From the overhead angle, he recognized her from her clothes more than her face. As Sara said, “Simple costs a lot of money.” In that case, her black-and-white outfit cost as much as his new truck.

  He opened his mouth to call out and ask if she’d mind putting the ladder back up, but she didn’t stop and look around. Instead, she made a beeline toward the back of the building. She was walking so fast it was as though she was being chased.

  He watched her until she was out of his view, then silently made his way to the next opening. It was covered by a flat, hinged door that was shut. She was directly below him and he wanted to see what she was doing.

  Knowing that the hinges were probably as rusty as at the chapel, he lifted the door as slowly as possible. She was in what used to be the office and she was running her hands over the bricks of the wall. She seemed to be searching for something.

  She moved farther down, out of his view. Jack leaned forward and lifted the door another inch.

  The rusty creak seemed to echo through the empty stable. He drew in his breath, hoping she hadn’t heard. But she had. She made a leap to the side and looked up. “What are you doing up there?” she demanded.

  Jack lifted the door and looked down. “Sorry, I—”

  He didn’t finish because at the sight of him, the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her body went limp, and she sank to the floor. She’d fainted.

  Jack didn’t take time to think but threw the door back. As he grabbed the side of the opening, the door slammed down and the corner hit his forehead. He could feel the cut but he didn’t hesitate as he swung down. The ceiling in the office was about eight feet high so he had less than two feet to go down. He let go, hit the concrete floor hard and jumped up instantly.

  He tried to revive the woman but she was out completely. She was light enough that he had no problem picking her up. There was no furniture inside, so he carried her outside. To the left was a shade tree and nearby was a horse trough. A water spigot was beside it.

  He put the woman down, leaned her against the tree and went to the faucet. There was nothing to hold water. He took off his shirt, wet a sleeve and went back to her. Using the wet fabric as a cold compress, he pressed it to her forehead, but she didn’t respond. He cursed himself for not having his phone with him. Should he leave her to get the utility truck to drive her back to the house? Then call an ambulance?

  When she turned her head to the side, he let out his breath in relief. “You’re okay,” he said softly. “You just fainted.”

  She didn’t open her eyes. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Jack Wyatt.”

  She kept her eyes closed. It was almost like she was afraid to look at him. “I’m Nadine.”

  Jack moved to sit beside her, placing his shirt across his lap. The sun felt good on his bare skin.

  “So you’re not a ghost?” she asked.

  He understood. They’d all said he looked like Sean Thorpe. “Maybe I am. I steal food from Mrs. Aiken so she hates me. Sean and I share that. I’m not a horse person but my father and grandfather knew everything there was to know about the internal combustion engine. Maybe they balance out.”

  She was smiling. “Anything else?”

  “I like Puck and don’t like Mrs. Aiken.” He looked at her. “And I’ve been to the cemetery.” She didn’t seem to understand that last statement.

  “You don’t sound like him.”

  “Cursed with an American accent, but give me a few English pints and I might change. Especially if the barmaid is busty.”

  She laughed. “You are like him.” Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Oh my!” she gasped at his shirtlessness.

  “Sorry. I needed a cloth. It was either your shirt or mine.”

  “We all have lapses in judgment,” she said.

  When he caught her meaning, he laughed. He started to put his shirt back on but she took it from him.

  “You’re bleeding.” She leaned across him and used the wet sleeve to dab at his forehead.

  She was older than Jack, but damn, she was pretty. And her body seemed to be supple and firm. Since Kate had arrived in his life, there had been no other women. It had been a long, long time.

  He put his hand over hers. “I’ll do it.” Her face was inches from his. Her eyes, her lips, her body were telling him that whatever he wanted was all right with her.

  But Jack looked away and the moment was lost.

  She leaned back against the tree. Their bodies were touching along one side. “You made me feel better.”

  “Don’t see how,” Jack said. He was wiping at his forehead. The cut was superficial, no stitches needed, but it did hurt. “I scared you half to death. You hit the floor pretty hard.”

  “I have a personal trainer who does worse to me. But it was a shock seeing him—you—again. He was always there. Nicky’s father piled masses of work onto his employees. Sean...” She broke off and seemed to calm herself. “Are you here with the woman? The older one?”

  “I’m with Sara, yes.”

  “And you want to know everything about us so she can put us in a book?”

  Jack’s hair prickled at this disparagement of Sara. “She’s insatiably curious, true, but we’d like to know what happened.” He hoped she’d confide in him.

  “Why is this place empty?” she asked.

  “Isabella closes it for a month every year for repairs and cleaning.”

  “I was hoping there’d be people here.” She took a breath. “My husband died three months ago.”

  “I’m sorry,”
Jack said.

  “Me too. He was a nice man. Not wildly exciting but he was...security. It’s not easy to go from being a married woman to a single one. I catch myself saying ‘My husband likes’ and ‘My husband wants.’ But now I’m back on the market.”

  “So you’re looking for a new one?”

  “More or less. I’ve never had a job and I have no interest in being a ‘career girl.’”

  “Damn women’s lib!” Jack said.

  She laughed. “You’re funny. Sean wasn’t amusing. But maybe he would have been. He hated all of us so much.”

  “But not Puck.”

  “No, not her. But then, she was a child who hid from her mother and ran errands for all of us.”

  “And kept secrets.”

  “Mmmm,” Nadine said. “She believed she knew everything but she knew less than half of it.”

  “You knew the other half?”

  She pushed away from the tree and looked at him. “As lovely as you are, you’re not going to coax forbidden information out of me. I’ve already told you too much.”

  He leaned toward her and smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure of that?”

  She tilted her head as though she was about to kiss him. He didn’t move away.

  But Nadine did. “You are truly wicked.” Smiling, she stood up. “I need to go see if Byon has arrived.”

  Jack got up to stand in front of her. “Hoping he’ll introduce you to prospective husbands?”

  “Brains and beauty. You are lethal.” She stepped away from him. “For our own good, stay away from me and don’t ask me any questions about anything.”

  Jack ran his hand down his bare chest. “I’m afraid I can’t give that promise.”

  Nadine made a little squealing sound, then took off at a fast pace toward the house.

  Jack watched her walk away. That had felt good. It had been so long since he’d flirted with a woman that he’d doubted if he still knew how. Since he’d moved in with Sara, then Kate had arrived, he’d been Good Boy personified. No spending the night with a woman whose name he didn’t remember in the morning. No raucous evenings with his friends, chugging beer and getting too drunk to drive home. It had been a long time since someone had pointed out that he was good-for-nothing Roy Wyatt’s son.

  “I have been good, good, good,” Jack muttered as he put his shirt back on. “Disgustingly good.”

  He started back to the house but when he heard a piano playing, he stopped to listen. It seemed to be coming from the chapel. Turning, he went to it. The door that he’d unlocked was half-open and he could hear the music. It was one of Byon Lizmere’s songs and one of Jack’s favorites. He pushed the door open and went inside. The man at the piano looked up at him and smiled—and as Jack walked toward him, he began to sing.

  * * *

  After Sara left, Kate decided she’d had enough of being in a dingy attic. She went downstairs, put on walking shoes and left the house.

  The gardens were so perfectly manicured that they didn’t seem real. She would have explored them but workers were everywhere. Trucks loaded with trees were arriving. Women with buckets were going in and out of the house.

  And Bella was in the middle of it all.

  Kate stood in the shadows and watched her directing people. She was calm but no one doubted her authority.

  Like Sara, Kate thought, and started down a narrow path that led away from the noise.

  At the end was a long, low brick building. There were no cars around and it was peaceful. She looked in a window and saw a roomful of old oak filing cabinets. Must be Clive’s office. She thought of Puck’s story about him and wondered if his big desk was still there.

  Since the door was unlocked, she went inside and opened a file drawer. It contained old, worn file folders full of receipts back to the 1970s. Does anybody throw anything away? she wondered.

  When she stepped through a wide doorway, there was the biggest, gaudiest desk she’d ever seen. It had gilded carvings of cherubs with wings, and long shapes that swirled and curved. There had to be a dozen types of wood used in the thing.

  “It’s a monster, isn’t it?” a man’s deep voice said.

  Kate jumped at the sound, her hand to her throat.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, sit down.” He quickly rolled the big leather chair from behind the desk. “I can assure you that it’s quite comfortable.”

  Kate sat down and looked up at him. He was a handsome man, half-bald in an attractive way, late forties maybe. Tall, slim, well-dressed in a pale green shirt, dark trousers and perfectly polished loafers. “You’re Clive.”

  He smiled, showing nice teeth. “I am. And you must be one of the inquisitive three.”

  Kate nodded. He wasn’t like she’d imagined from Puck’s story. He certainly wasn’t the scowling, angry, full of hatred person she’d pictured.

  “Are you here to find out who murdered Sean and Diana?”

  His words so shocked Kate she couldn’t speak.

  “Too much too soon?” he asked.

  “Murdered?” she managed to whisper. Did he know about the body? Had he put it there?

  “Again, I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just my theory. I’ve not said it out loud before.”

  Kate was staring at him in silence.

  “Perhaps we should start over. I’m Clive Binswood and I work at Coutts Bank in London.” He held out his hand to shake.

  “I’m Kate Medlar.” She shook his hand.

  He glanced down at her shoes. “How about if you and I take a walk? I haven’t seen the place in years and I’d like to see what Mrs. Guilford has done to it.”

  Kate was recovering. “Will you tell me your side of what happened?”

  He smiled so warmly that she smiled back. “No one has ever asked to hear my side of anything about Oxley Manor. I assume you’ve been told that I was an angry young man. Disliked by all.”

  The kindness in Kate wanted to deny that, but she didn’t. “Actually, yes. I expected you to have fangs and a forked tail.”

  He grinned. “No fangs. Haven’t looked to see if a tail has grown.”

  She smiled as she stood up. “Yes, let’s walk. Tell me how you first came to be at Oxley Manor.”

  “My guardian angel,” he said as he held open the door for her. “At least that’s what I thought at the time.”

  They walked side by side down a well-kept gravel path.

  Clive was looking around. “It’s hard to believe this is the same place. Bertram... He’s—”

  “Nicky’s father. The drunken earl.”

  “You’ve been doing your research. Bertram didn’t care about the place.”

  “Only about his slow horses.”

  Clive chuckled. “He said that when they made millions he’d repair everything. But he—”

  Kate had heard enough about Bertram and his horses. “What about you? How was your angel involved in putting you here?”

  “By the time I was fourteen, every person I’d ever lived with had died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said.

  “I grew up in houses of grief and illness and tragedy. Only quiet sadness was allowed.”

  “Not good for a child,” she said.

  “Understatement. But I knew nothing different. I was the passed-around kid. After my parents died when I was eight, I went from uncle to aunt to cousin.”

  “Sure doesn’t sound like fun,” Kate said. “But I bet they were all so very glad to see you arrive.”

  “Their joy was overwhelming.”

  “Put you in the closet under the stairs, did they?”

  He laughed at her reference to Harry Potter. “It was about that bad.”

  “Then came Oxley Manor.”

  “Yes. Then came this.” He s
wept his arm out. They were by a pond that had tall cattails and ducks floating on the blue water.

  “But I don’t think you were welcomed,” Kate said.

  “Actually, I was. Nicky and I were the same age and he’d lived such a sheltered life that I was a novelty. I knew how to ride busses and how we could hide from his father. I knew—” He waved his hand. “Anyway, it was good for us both.”

  “What about you and Bertram?”

  “Ever hear the saying that lazy people are brilliant at finding people to do their work for them?”

  “No.”

  “Then I probably made it up. I worked hard to make myself useful so I wouldn’t be sent away.”

  “Been there, done that,” Kate said. He looked at her in interest. “Nope. This is your story. What changed?”

  Clive lost his smile. “It was all wonderful—until Bertram pulled me out of uni after two years. He said Oxley was falling apart and I was needed here.”

  “Selfish in the extreme,” Kate said. “I assume you were part of the group, but then...” She looked at him.

  “In a single day, I went from being their friend to being their servant. And they bloody well let me know of my fallen status.”

  “No wonder you were angry. Why didn’t you leave?”

  They had reached an area with a long vista and there was a bench nearby. Clive motioned for her to sit and he took a place beside her.

  “I was too afraid to leave. Oxley Manor was the only place I’d ever known any happiness. The world I’d seen outside was full of misery.”

  “And there was Willa.”

  Clive shook his head. “That poor woman. I was a beast to her. But then, they all were.”

  “I thought they liked her.”

  “Hell no! They put up with her because she paid for everything. And she applauded Byon’s hateful little plays. All Nicky had to do was smile at her and she’d get out her checkbook.”

  “That is cold.”

  “Her family was worse!” Clive said. “She and I were alike in that we were terrified that it would all be taken away from us. I was scared that Bertram would run the place into bankruptcy, and she was afraid Nicky and Byon would do to her what they’d done to me. One day they’d decide she was out and she’d be told to leave.”