False fire

by Veronica Heley

  Hari said, ‘But why would a strange electrician want to set this up?’

  ‘I think …’ She hesitated. ‘I think it’s like King Henry II and Thomas à Becket. Once upon a time the king and Becket had been bosom pals. Then Henry installed Thomas as head of the church. From being a wild youth, up to any lark, Thomas became a devout Christian and withstood all Henry’s attempts to control the Church through him. Henry got cross, and burst out with the fatal words, “Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?” Whereupon, four of his knights set out to do just that. Thomas was cut down in front of the altar and Henry got the blame. Was he culpable? Yes. Did he really mean Thomas to be killed? Mm. Yes and no. Was he pleased when it was done? Mm. Yes and no. He spoke in haste and his wishes were fulfilled by others. I think that’s what might have happened here.’

  ‘You mean,’ said William, ‘that Alaric or Ninette, or whoever, learned about the rewiring and suggested to a third party that they’d like us killed, and the third party obliged them by setting the timers? But why would they go to such extremes … I’m being stupid. There’s some link here, isn’t there? Something we don’t know about. The fake electrician must have something to gain by acting for … whoever. Henry’s knights looked for advancement at court. Obviously, you know more history than I do, Bea. Did they get it?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I do know that Henry had to go to Rome and beg pardon of the Pope on his knees … or was it barefoot? Something like that. So we need to look for someone who has a reason to look for advancement by setting the fires.’

  William said, ‘If we hadn’t thought to check on the children—!’

  ‘I know. If we’d been just a few minutes later, they’d have died.’

  Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Mel and Steve appeared, Steve carrying Alicia, who’d been washed and dressed in clean clothes, with her long hair tied back in a scrunchie.

  ‘Berny! Berny!’ Alicia was full of beans. ‘Uncle Steve says I can go to a different school with you if I like.’

  Bernice started awake, and looked around, bewildered to find herself sitting on someone’s knee. She slid to the floor and pushed her hair back from her face.

  Steve held up his hand to get their attention, and whispered, ‘Hold on, young ’un. I said “If Alaric agrees!”’

  ‘Oh, he will!’ Alicia slid out of Steve’s arms down to the floor and ran to Bernice. ‘He’s always saying I should go to a school which doesn’t cost so much. Isn’t that good?’

  Mel clucked over Bernice. ‘Come here, lovey, and I’ll do your hair for you. You look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards!’

  Bea registered a pang of guilt. She ought to have seen to Bernice’s hair, and hadn’t. She really was too old for this mothering lark. She noted that Hari had disappeared. He came and went without so much as disturbing the air around him. He was probably checking out every room in the house to see if there were any intruders … or to see where he might hide a child who was being sought by the wrong people?

  She said, ‘Shall we go and sit down next door and see if we can get the answer to some questions?’ It wasn’t a suggestion, but an order.

  So they all went next door … to find the Wicked Uncle on Bea’s landline phone, lying back in the armchair which Bea considered ‘hers’, with his feet up on the coffee table. Bea was not amused.

  Gideon waved to them, took the phone from his ear long enough to say, ‘You don’t mind, do you? A client in Hong Kong.’

  Yes, Bea did mind. ‘Cut it short, please.’

  Steve looked distressed. He opened his mouth to speak. Everyone turned to him to hear what he had to say, but no sound came out. He gestured to Gideon to wind his conversation up.

  Gideon held up his hand to indicate he wasn’t finished yet.

  Everyone else found a seat and sat, waiting for Gideon to finish. Gideon was enquiring about a horse race that he might fly over to attend. Lots of light laughter and references to some fillies who were probably not of the four-legged variety. Finally Steve traced the phone’s cable to its power point on the wall. He looked back at his brother, the message clear. ‘I’m pulling the plug on your call.’

  Gideon had no option but to put the receiver down after saying, ‘Big Brother’s watching me …!’

  Gideon threw himself back in his chair. ‘If you’ve lost me a sale …!’ He smiled brilliantly at the rest of the room. ‘You can see for yourselves that Big Brother has no idea how to handle clients in the billionaire bracket. All he knows about is changing fuses and light bulbs in accommodation for down-and-outs!’

  Everyone looked at Steve who threw up his hands as if to say he wasn’t prepared to argue. The opinion of the room hardened against Gideon.

  Bea intervened. ‘Thank you, Steve. Gideon, I’ll let you know the cost of that call, shall I, and of any others that you’ve made on my phone line without permission?’

  It was water off a duck’s back. Gideon’s attention was focused on Mel, who had seated herself next to Steve on the settee. He said, ‘Well, hello-oa, there …’

  Mel wasn’t particularly beautiful; she didn’t have a model’s figure, and she wasn’t dressed to kill. She looked what she was: a nice-looking, intelligent girl with a warm heart. A good, but not a good-time, girl. Not a sleeper, but a keeper.

  Mel looked at Gideon and looked through him.

  Bea could see that Gideon was intrigued. His track record with women was impressive, and no doubt in the past he’d moved in on any girl Steve fancied. Now he saw fresh meat, sitting rather too close to his despised Big Brother, and he couldn’t resist coming on to her … which would pay Big Brother back for breaking off his phone call to his prospective client.

  He sat upright, and leaned forward. ‘Introduce me to this delightful creature.’

  Bea recognized the tone of voice and predatory look. Some men needed an elbow in their solar plexus before they would desist. Others could be frozen out. What would Mel do?

  Ah, it wasn’t only what Mel would do. Steve bristled. He really did. His shoulders seemed to swell and he looked as if he was going to launch himself at Gideon. He had lost weight these last couple of days and now everyone could see his likeness to his father, old Josh. But he didn’t lose control. He turned his head, waiting to see if Mel would respond to Gideon’s approach … or not.

  Mel turned away from Gideon to give Steve reassurance. A little shrug said it all. It was clear she’d seen enough of the world to evaluate a would-be Lothario like Gideon.

  Hurray!

  Mel said, in the polite tone of voice with which one speaks to a casual acquaintance, ‘I’m Mel. A friend of Steve’s. And you’re his younger brother? I suppose you didn’t know that Steve lost his voice when he heard about Daphne. I’m afraid he’ll have to communicate through me for a while. I’ll get him to a doctor in the morning.’

  Crash, bang, wallop! Game, set and match!

  Bea wanted to cheer.

  Steve picked up Mel’s hand and put it to his cheek. Mel blushed. Beautifully.

  Gideon reddened. He could hardly believe that a girl had turned him down, just like that!

  Hari drifted back into the room, gave Bea a thumbs-up and took a seat by the door. He’d searched the house and was giving her the OK?

  The phone rang. Gideon reached for it, but Bea was quicker. ‘Hello? Leon, where are you?’

  ‘On my way over, in the car. Sybil is arriving at Heathrow in about an hour, add half an hour for retrieving luggage and getting through Customs.’

  Bea looked at the clock. It was dark outside, and rain beat on the windows. Not a good night for fireworks, nor for travel. But Leon would be in a big, chauffeur-driven car.

  He continued, ‘I thought Bernice might like to come. I’ll pick her up in ten minutes, perhaps less if the traffic eases up. All right? Do you want to come as well?’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got guests.’ And to Bernice, ‘Your great-aunt’s arriving at the airport in about an hour
and a half. Leon will take you to Heathrow to meet her. Would you like to take Alicia as well? Hari can go with you both, right?’

  It was an order, not a suggestion. Both girls nodded.

  Bea went back to the phone. ‘Alicia will come, too. She’ll be company for Bernice while you wait. They’ll be ready for you in ten minutes or so. Give me a bell when you arrive and they’ll be right with you. And, Leon, I’ve got Hari here, looking after the girls. You’ve used him often enough at work and you know how good he is. I’m thinking it would be a good idea for him to come with you. He can look after the girls if there’s any delay at the airport. Right?’

  She clicked the phone off, and collected everyone’s attention. ‘Now, we have ten minutes or so before Leon collects the children, so may I suggest we take this opportunity to clear one or two things up. Think back to Friday evening. You were all in the sitting room where the children were opening their presents when Leon and I arrived. Late. I didn’t see who was given what. We handed over our own gifts, they were opened and admired, and we went into supper. Agreed?’

  Nods all round. Gideon leaned back in his chair, looking bored. His eye was still on Mel, who was conscious of him, but refrained from looking in his direction.

  Bea said, ‘Children; you had all sorts of lovely presents. Did you make a list of who gave you what?’

  Alicia shook her head. ‘Mrs Frost was cross about that. When we went upstairs after supper, she asked if we’d written everything down, and we said No, we could remember, and she said we ought to do it straight away or we’d forget. She was strict about writing thank-you notes.’

  Bea said, ‘So who gave you the box of indoor fireworks?’

  Both children shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ said Bernice.

  ‘Did someone explain what indoor fireworks did? Perhaps they talked about how they had some when they were children?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Perhaps it was someone who wasn’t there who gave them to us? There was no label.’

  William frowned. ‘I picked the box up. I knew Josh had vetoed fireworks in the garden. I thought he’d bought it for the children to use instead. There was no label. No wrapping paper. It was just as it had come from the shop or, more probably, been ordered over the Internet.’

  No label. No wrapping paper. Bea said to the children, ‘Did you carry all your presents upstairs with you after supper, or leave some downstairs?’

  The girls looked at one another. ‘The croquet set,’ said Alicia. ‘That was too big and heavy.’

  ‘Some skates,’ said Bernice. ‘You remember, Lissy? Your granddad gave us both some skates. We left those downstairs as well. Mrs Frost helped us carry everything else upstairs. I don’t think we left anything else behind.’

  ‘The box of fireworks was pretty big, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you leave that downstairs, too?’

  ‘We wanted to set them off straight away, but Granddad said not before supper because it was getting late. He said that when we went upstairs, Mrs Frost would find us a metal tray to put them on and some matches. We didn’t have a tray or any matches upstairs.’

  ‘Who carried them upstairs?’

  ‘Mrs Frost helped us, didn’t she, Lissy? When your Granddad said we looked as if we were going to fall asleep at the table, he got the waitress to fetch Mrs Frost and she came and got us, and we went into the sitting room and picked up almost everything, and took them upstairs. Mrs Frost helped us. I think she carried the box of fireworks.’

  William said, ‘I assumed it was a present from someone who knew the children had been disappointed in not being able to set off fireworks outside.’

  The phone rang. That would be Leon, announcing his arrival outside.

  As Bea picked it up, the front doorbell rang.

  What was Leon playing at?

  SIXTEEN

  Saturday early evening

  It was Leon on the phone. ‘Are they ready? We’re double-parked outside.’

  ‘They’re on their way.’

  The doorbell rang again. What was going on?

  Mel bustled the children into their jackets, while Bea told Leon to let her know when they had successfully retrieved Sybil from the airport. Still on the phone, she followed Hari and Mel as they ushered the children out into the hall.

  Hari stopped them there. ‘Hold on while I check that your uncle’s car is directly outside. It’s raining, you see. You don’t want to get wet again.’ He opened the front door and looked out. Hari didn’t trust anyone. Good man!

  ‘About time, too!’

  It wasn’t Leon at the door.

  It was Faye, thrusting past the children as Hari led them out. Faye was dressed in black from head to toe. Her mouth indicated that she was in a shocking temper, but she couldn’t frown because of her latest Botox injection.

  ‘Well!’ Faye slid out of a fake fur coat and threw it down.

  Bea closed the front door on the nasty wet evening. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘Where is he? Where is that scumbag?’

  Bea was amused. ‘Which scumbag do you mean?’

  A glare from eyes almost obscured by false eyelashes. ‘Don’t act stupid with me. I mean Steve, of course! I know my rights!’

  ‘Steve?’ Bea hadn’t expected that. ‘What did you want him for and how did you know he was here?’

  ‘Giorgio told me, of course! He’ll be here in a minute!’ She looked into the kitchen, saw no one there, and barged into the sitting room. ‘There you are!’

  Raised voices. Angry. Bea darted into the kitchen herself, to check on what was happening in the oven. The parsnips had been par-boiled. She drained them, added them to the baking dish around the meat and potatoes, turned the oven up a fraction, tried to work out if she had enough food if Sybil wanted to join them. Decided she was not going to feed Gideon. No way.

  Or Giorgio. She had completely forgotten about Daphne’s gigolo. How did he fit into the jigsaw puzzle she’d been trying to put together? Or was he an innocent bystander?

  Oh. Was that the sound of a slap next door?

  She rushed back to the sitting room in time to see William pick up Faye from behind, and dump her, screeching with rage, on to a low chair. She kicked out at him, but he immobilized her by the simple expedient of putting his hands on her shoulders and pressing down.

  An overturned chair lay nearby. Steve and Mel were on their feet, Mel holding her hand to her cheek. Faye had slapped Mel? Why?

  Gideon was on Bea’s landline again. The scumbag.

  The front doorbell rang again.

  ‘Enough!’ said Bea.

  ‘Lord Morton attacked me!’ screeched Faye. Her hair had fallen out of its clasp and was all over her face … not to mention her mascara.

  Mel took her hand away from her cheek, and hastily put it back again, saying, ‘Ouch! No, it’s not too bad. I shouldn’t have tried to get between them.’ She tried to smile.

  Steve put his arms around her. Steve was stoking anger but still in control … for the time being.

  Bea worked it out. ‘Faye? You attacked Mel? I suppose she got in the way, trying to tell you that Steve had lost his voice? Is that right, Mel? Yes, I thought so. Shame on you, Faye! First you tried to make out that I’d assaulted you when I dragged you out of a burning building, and now you attack someone who is only trying to help. Save your tears for your lawyer. They won’t get you anywhere here!’

  Faye sobbed, ‘Gideon, tell these horrid people they can’t treat me like this!’

  Gideon was still on the phone. ‘Yes, yes. Well, when I touch down …’ With a smile. He was not going to hear whatever Faye had to say, was he?

  So Bea turned on him. ‘Gideon, if that is a private phone call, you’d better ring off before I attack you myself! Oh yes, and please would you move to another chair? That’s the one I like to sit in.’

  Steve put his arm around Mel and drew her back down to the settee.

  William, with care, took his hands off Faye’s shoulders. Faye fished
a mirror out of her bag, and gave a wail of horror. ‘My hair! Look at my hair!’ She reached for her handbag to repair the damage. Bea wondered if the girl would go so far as to use heated rollers in front of everyone? No, surely not! But repairing her makeup should keep her quiet for a bit.

  Gideon put the down. ‘That was someone for you, Mrs Abbot. A cold sales call.’

  Did she believe him? No. He’d been making another long-distance call, hadn’t he?

  The doorbell rang again.

  Bea said, ‘I suppose I’d better answer that.’ She glared at each one in turn. ‘Nobody is to say anything or do anything till I get back.’

  Who would it be this time? Ah yes. Alaric of the sleepy eyes, not smoking on one of his cheroots for a wonder. And Ninette, who seemed glued to the sleeve of his perfectly tailored Barbour coat. Followed by Daphne’s gigolo, Giorgio.

  Ninette was looking stressed. So she should.

  The gigolo was frowning. He’d have to take care, or he’d get a permanent crease in his forehead.

  Bea held the door wide open. ‘Alaric, you may come in, because we are about to hold a post mortem on the fire. But please note that I have already informed the authorities of your assault on me earlier today, so you’d better keep your hands to yourself from now on.’

  Did he believe her? Maybe.

  Giorgio hovered on the doorstep. ‘I need to speak to Steve. He is here, isn’t he?’

  Alaric ignored Bea’s words. ‘I want my daughter. And I’m not going to be put off any longer. The law is on my side.’

  ‘Steve is here, yes, but he’s lost his voice. He’s devastated by the loss of his sister, which is more than you seem to be, Alaric. The children have gone to the airport to pick up Bernice’s great-aunt. I suggest you come in and take a seat, all three of you, and we’ll try to make sense of what’s been happening before the fire investigator hands the case over to the police.’

  Alaric was not amused. ‘Why do you have to bring the police into it?’

  Giorgio slipped into the room and looked around for Steve. On discovering him on the settee, he stood over him to say, ‘I’ve come about my car and the flat. Daphne gave them to me, right?’