Very Important Corpses

by Simon R. Green

  ‘What do you think?’ said Penny. ‘Is it too late to run?’

  ‘She’d probably catch us,’ I said. ‘Stand your ground, they can smell fear.’

  The Major Domo slammed to a halt in front of us, and started talking without bothering with any of the usual pleasantries.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Baron. I didn’t know you two knew each other. What do you know about him?’

  ‘He’s your Head of Security,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Didn’t you read his references?’

  ‘I didn’t hire him,’ said the Major Domo. ‘The House’s owners did that, when the principals rejected my usual Head of Security.’

  ‘Why, specifically, did they pick Baron?’

  ‘I wasn’t told,’ said the Major Domo. ‘He came highly recommended by a London agency I’ve worked with before, so I didn’t foresee any problems. But he’d barely taken up his post before Miss Rifkin was killed. I need to be sure he’s up to the job.’

  ‘He’s very experienced,’ I said. ‘And anyway, I’m here now and I’m in charge. I want Coronach House sealed up tight, to make sure our killer can’t get in. Or out. There’s always the chance he’s hiding somewhere here in the house.’

  The Major Domo was already shaking her head. ‘That was the first measure I suggested after Miss Rifkin’s death, but the principals wouldn’t hear of it. The very idea made them feel trapped. And what the principals want they get.’

  ‘Then I can’t guarantee their safety,’ I said.

  ‘You’d better,’ said the Major Domo. ‘Because now you’re in charge, they are your responsibility. And they’ll ruin you if you fail.’

  ‘Better not fail then,’ I said.

  FOUR

  Questionable Deaths

  A noise loud enough to wake the dead, or at least make them clap their hands to their ears, erupted not far away. Penny and I immediately stood shoulder to shoulder, glaring around and ready for anything. The Major Domo bestowed a withering look on both of us.

  ‘That is the dinner gong, summoning the House to evening meal. Will both of you please relax before you strain something? You’d better follow me … No, wait. I don’t suppose either of you thought to bring formal wear, to dress for dinner?’

  ‘I have my nice big hat,’ said Penny.

  ‘I have my sunglasses,’ I said.

  ‘Besides,’ said Penny, ‘I look fine.’

  ‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘She does.’

  The Major Domo looked like she wanted to say a great many things, but didn’t. She did allow herself a brief but clearly heartfelt sigh, before leading the way back to the reception area. Penny and I sauntered along behind, amusing ourselves by pulling faces at her back. I glanced out a window. Night had fallen, and darkness surrounded Coronach House like an advancing army. Exterior lights lit up the grounds here and there, a fierce illumination that left nowhere for anything to hide, but there were still large areas the lights couldn’t reach. And beyond the glare of the lights lay nothing but the dark unmoving waters of the loch. I could just make out guards patrolling in pairs, wearing body armour and carrying automatic weapons. The grounds seemed quiet enough, but it still felt like the House was under siege.

  I hadn’t realized I’d stopped to stare until the Major Domo cleared her throat in a meaningful sort of way. I turned away from the window, to find Penny looking at me inquiringly. I smiled and shrugged, and she nodded understandingly. She trusted my instincts. The Major Domo looked at us like a school teacher forced to deal with delinquent children of rich parents, and we followed meekly after her. She led us all the way to the far side of the House, where a huge door covered in obscure Celtic carvings opened on to a massive dining hall.

  The hall clearly dated back to when Coronach House had been home to a fair-sized family. It was big enough to hold an entire Highland Games, with great stone walls and a cavernous raftered ceiling. And not one but three hanging chandeliers, intricate constructions of brass and steel with any number of light bulbs, shedding a warm and cosy glow the whole length of the hall. A real fire blazed in an impressively large fireplace, crackling loudly as the heavy logs shifted. I nodded approvingly at the long dining tables covered with gleaming white tablecloths, carefully spaced silver candelabra, any amount of delicate china and antique cutlery, and freshly cut flowers in expensive-looking vases. This was what an old-style dining hall ought to look like. The people sitting at the tables didn’t even glance up at us as we entered.

  ‘This is the Great Hall of Coronach House,’ said the Major Domo, making sure we heard the capital letters. ‘The heart of the House, when it was still home to the old-established family who made it what it is. Generations drank and feasted here, plotting the destruction of their enemies and insurrections against kings and governments.’

  She stood her ground just inside the doorway, not so much inviting as demanding Penny and I to take our time to look the hall over and give it its due. It was undeniably impressive, with its stained-glass windows, displays of ancient weapons mounted on wall plaques, and the traditional ‘Stag at Bay’ fire screens. But I was more interested in the people at the tables. They seemed such a small part of the scene, dwarfed by their magnificent surroundings and what seemed like acres of open space surrounding the tables. The hall had been designed for much larger gatherings than this. But the various diners didn’t seem to care, concerned only with themselves and their own importance.

  The principals sat on one side of a long table, with their backs to the wall, so they could look out at everyone else. For the moment, it appeared they were only interested in the contents of their plates. It took me a moment to realize there were only eleven of them, not twelve. One principal was missing. I turned to the Major Domo, who didn’t wait for me to ask.

  ‘October is late, as usual. I used to think he was deliberately hanging back so he could be sure of making an entrance. But having met the man, I am forced to the conclusion that he is simply appallingly absent-minded. To the point where it’s a wonder he ever knows who he is without consulting the name tag sewn into the back of his shirt. You wouldn’t believe how much running around his staff have to do just to make sure he’s in the right place at the right time. I have been assured the man is in fact some kind of financial genius, and I can’t see any other reason why the rest of the Group would put up with him. If he doesn’t turn up soon, I’ll send one of my staff up to his room to quietly remind him what the dinner gong means.’

  ‘What about his staff?’ said Penny.

  ‘Oh, they’re all here,’ said the Major Domo. ‘None of the principals’ staff or security people are ever late for a meal. Never late in holding out their plates for a second helping, either.’

  The security guards had their own table, a little to one side of the principals. They seemed to be spending as much time keeping an eye on each other as on the rest of the people in the hall. The only thing they could agree on was to glare suspiciously at Penny and me. So I waved cheerfully back at them, and Penny waggled the fingers of one hand in their general direction. The guards pretended not to notice.

  The staff had their own table some distance away and were addressing themselves solely to their food. It was probably one of the few times in their day when the principals weren’t ordering them about. The staff all had the look of people wondering quietly but firmly whether the pay was worth it.

  The chauffeurs had their own table too. Still dressed in their formal uniforms, but without the peaked caps. They chatted cheerfully among themselves, and ignored everyone else. Given how tightly their expensively tailored uniforms fitted, I had to wonder where they kept their guns.

  A thought struck me, and I turned to the Major Domo. ‘Where are the escorts?’

  ‘They are not invited,’ she said coldly, with definite undertones of ‘The very idea …!’

  ‘They will dine separately. Like the House staff. The principals don’t want to see the escorts until they want to see them.’

  ‘I’m hungry
,’ said Penny. ‘Where are we sitting?’

  ‘There has been some discussion as to where the two of you should be seated,’ said the Major Domo. ‘On the one hand, you are here to serve the principals; but on the other, you represent the Organization. In the end, I decided you should sit with the principals’ staff. I thought you’d be most comfortable there.’ She smiled, briefly. ‘I’m sure they’ll make you very welcome.’

  ‘You have got to be kidding!’ Penny’s voice was cold, but two hot spots on her cheeks showed how angry she was. ‘We are nobody’s servants! Ishmael has been placed in charge of this whole House!’

  ‘It’s all right, Penny,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind. Really.’

  ‘Of course you don’t, you never do. You don’t understand these things.’

  ‘It’s not important …’

  ‘Yes it is! If you want these people to take you seriously and accept your authority, you can’t let them get away with anything.’

  I nodded. She had a point. I looked at the Major Domo. ‘Where are you sitting?’

  She indicated a small side table, where Baron was already attacking his food. Still wearing his distinctive red-leather jacket. The Major Domo looked as though she would have liked to say something about that, but didn’t. ‘I shall be dining with my Head of House Security.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘We’ll join you. That should make it clear to everyone where we stand. Or rather, sit.’

  ‘Damn right!’ said Penny.

  We strode over to the side table, noses firmly in the air. The Major Domo stared after us speechlessly. I grabbed two unoccupied chairs from the chauffeurs’ table, and they pretended not to notice. I slammed the chairs down opposite Baron, and he nodded briefly without looking up from his meal. I pulled one chair out for Penny and she seated herself grandly, with all the dignity of visiting royalty. I sat down beside her, took Baron’s napkin out of its silver ring, because he wasn’t using it, and spread it across my lap. I like to tackle my food with enthusiasm. In my experience, people who are inhibited about one appetite are often inhibited about others. The Major Domo sat down stiffly beside Baron, not even looking in my direction. Penny was right. In the Major Domo’s world, things like this mattered.

  Servants arrived, quietly and unobtrusively, to serve us food. It was like being waited on by robots in old-fashioned clothing. They never looked at any of us, intent only on carrying out their duties. The meal turned out to be surprisingly basic stuff. Cream of chicken soup, followed by roast beef with roast potatoes, and a selection of vegetables boiled almost colourless. I looked at it, and then at the Major Domo.

  ‘All part of Coronach House’s celebrated olde-worlde charm,’ she said defiantly. ‘Traditional food, to fill you up and stick to your ribs. The principals are probably used to more exotic fare, in which case this will no doubt come as a pleasant change.’

  ‘I’m surprised their security people don’t insist on food-tasters,’ said Penny.

  ‘That all takes place in the kitchens,’ said the Major Domo. She didn’t appear to be joking.

  ‘Is there a wine list?’ I said.

  ‘You don’t like wine,’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s the principle of the thing,’ I said loftily.

  ‘You have principles now?’ murmured Baron. ‘My, you have changed.’

  I fixed him with a thoughtful look. ‘Don’t push your luck, Christopher.’

  Everyone talked quietly at their tables, but only ever among themselves, ignoring everyone else. From what I could overhear, none of it was of any consequence. Interestingly, the principals showed no signs of being interested in each other. No small talk, no pleasantries; they just applied themselves to their food with barely a word passing between them. I supposed it made a kind of sense. They were business colleagues, not friends. Outside the Baphomet Group they probably had little in common.

  The security guards ate in silence, giving all their attention to what was going on around them. They didn’t even seem to notice what they were eating. They kept a watchful eye on their respective principals, in an overly protective and even possessive way; as though they didn’t believe their charges could be trusted on their own. Some of them looked like they wanted to rush over and start cutting up the principals’ meat for them.

  The chauffeurs and the staff ate what was put in front of them, with the air of people determined to enjoy it because it was free.

  At our table, the Major Domo ate mechanically, with no obvious signs of pleasure, as though this was just another task she had to get through. Baron cleared his plate with cheerful speed, shovelling it down. Penny looked quietly appalled at what had been placed in front of her, but said nothing, working her way through her food with quiet determination. I thought it was all fine.

  Baron cleared his plate and then looked hopefully at me, in case I decided not to finish anything. Penny pushed what was left of her food around with a fork, searching for something worth finishing. I pushed my empty plate aside, and gave my full attention to the Major Domo.

  ‘When can I send Jennifer Rifkin’s body off for an autopsy, so a medical examiner can give us clear details on how she died?’

  ‘Ishmael, please!’ said Penny. ‘Not a suitable subject for the dinner table!’

  ‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘No one at this table has a weak stomach. Well, Major Domo?’

  ‘I cannot release the body,’ the Major Domo said flatly. ‘None of the standard authorities can be allowed access to Coronach House while the Baphomet Group is still in residence. An autopsy will have to wait until the meeting is over and the principals have departed safely. We cannot risk anything that might draw public attention to the Group.’

  ‘What do you think an autopsy could tell us?’ said Baron, through a mouthful of Penny’s leftovers. ‘We know the brain is gone.’

  ‘A proper examination might give us a better idea of how that was achieved,’ I said.

  ‘You still think the killer is human, don’t you?’ said Penny.

  ‘What kind of man would kill like that?’ said Baron, dabbing unselfconsciously at a stain on his shirt front. ‘I mean, suck someone’s brains out through holes in the back of their neck? And how would that even be possible? Some kind of vacuum machine with a long nozzle?’

  ‘Oh, ick!’ said Penny.

  ‘Exactly!’ said Baron. ‘Even if they could smuggle such a machine into the House without anyone seeing, that would suggest the killing was planned in advance. Except no one knew Jennifer Rifkin was going to be here. From what little she said to me, I gather even she wasn’t told till the last minute. And anyway, why kill her rather than one of the principals?’

  ‘He may be obnoxious and he may eat with his mouth open, but he does have a point,’ said Penny. ‘Perhaps she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and saw or heard something she wasn’t supposed to. Something that meant she had to be silenced before the killer could start his real work …’ She frowned. ‘How she died still disturbs me. What possible purpose could it serve?’

  ‘Perhaps the creature was hungry,’ said the Major Domo.

  We all looked at each other for a long moment, caught up in horrible visions, then I shook my head firmly.

  ‘No. Forget the creature. This killing was designed to draw attention to the method and obscure the motive. Think about how carefully it must have been planned. The killer would have had to wait until everyone else was downstairs – giving him a clear run to Jennifer’s room so he could take his time with her, free from witnesses or interruptions. That suggests knowledge of the House interior and the routines of all the people in it.’

  ‘An inside job?’ said the Major Domo. ‘You mean one of my people? No. Impossible.’

  ‘You said yourself Coronach House is full of new faces,’ I said. ‘You can’t even be sure a journalist isn’t masquerading as one of your staff.’

  ‘So someone here in the House is the killer?’ said Baron. ‘Maybe someone in this room?’

  We all l
ooked around the hall. No one looked particularly guilty; or innocent, for that matter.

  ‘Not everyone here is necessarily who they appear to be,’ I said.

  ‘You should know,’ Baron murmured.

  ‘But what about the state of Miss Rifkin’s room?’ said the Major Domo. ‘All that destruction …’

  ‘More misdirection,’ I said.

  ‘That’s a lot of effort to go to,’ said Baron, ‘just to mess with people’s minds. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It is. Which makes me think there has to be something the killer needs to draw our attention away from. And let’s face it, if human, he’d have to be a real professional to take down a trained Organization field agent.’

  ‘You think he could be an agent from another group?’ said Baron.

  ‘It would explain a lot,’ I said. ‘I don’t see how any creature could hope to catch Jennifer by surprise. She might have been working or resting, but she would still have noticed someone entering her room. At the very least I would have expected her to fight back. But there were no defence wounds, not even scrapes or bruises on her hands. I think … she knew her attacker. And either trusted her attacker, or didn’t see her attacker as a threat until it was too late.’

  ‘The puncture wounds were on the back of her neck,’ said Penny. ‘Maybe she was attacked from behind?’

  ‘That would explain why she didn’t put up a fight,’ I said. ‘If she never saw the attack coming. But who in the House would she trust enough to turn her back on?’

  ‘You honestly believe a man could do everything that was done to Miss Rifkin’s room?’ said the Major Domo.

  ‘It seems the most plausible explanation,’ I said. ‘Until we find some evidence that couldn’t be the work of a man.’

  ‘You mean like puncture wounds or missing brains?’ said Baron.

  ‘I’m working on that,’ I said.

  The Major Domo looked to Baron. ‘Tell him. Tell him what you told me earlier.’

  ‘Oh by all means,’ I said. ‘Do tell me whatever it is you’ve been holding back, Christopher.’