A Darker God

by Barbara Cleverly

  “His Alexander? Good Lord! Why—yes! I’d be delighted to do that. In fact, I’d be honoured. I worked with him on the text last winter,” Gunning murmured, and fell into a stunned silence.

  “Is that it?” asked Montacute. “Didn’t I hear you refer to ‘another property’?”

  “Ah, yes. Mmm … Bit of a puzzle, this. A gift horse whose teeth I would certainly recommend giving a good inspection before accepting into my stable … But I suppose he knew what he was about … Look, Miss Talbot, please do not hesitate to consult us should you have the least concern … Our property department here in Athens is second to none in its vigilance and expertise, and we have a working arrangement with colleagues up there in Salonika—”

  “Steady on, Benedict!” said Letty. “You’re a chapter ahead of us! What has any of this to do with me?”

  “He’s willed the whole ants’ nest to you. The deeds of the property in question are in there with the rest of the things. In the chest. You’ll need some courage and patience to sort out that lot, I’m afraid, Laetitia.” He looked at her with pity. “And possibly the use of one of those armoured tanks. Rather you than me, what!” he finished with an apologetic bark of laughter.

  Chapter 24

  Letty had some difficulty in keeping her eyes on the lawyer as he moved on to the will of Lady Merriman. They would return every other moment, drawn to dwell speculatively on the empty space where had stood a small chest, hardly bigger than a footstool, with its undistinguished covering of rather moth-eaten rug. Purple, red, and amber, the faded colours had always been there, a comforting glow in the background as long as she had known the house. She missed it. There it had sat undisturbed in a cool dark corner, out of the sunshine and unremarked on by the professor, but she had noticed he never allowed any object, not even an ashtray, to be placed on it. Engrossed in a book, she had once attempted thoughtlessly to sit on it. His scream of protest had made her jump instantly to her feet. Either of his two adored house cats attempting to settle there would be swatted away at once, though he would tolerate them on his desk, curled up on his books, or in his lap.

  “And now to Lady Merriman,” Benedict announced. “These pages are much more straightforward. Stark in their simplicity, you might say. I could deliver the contents to you in thirty seconds. I wonder if you are aware of the composition of her remaining family?”

  A look from Montacute encouraged him to expand.

  “It helps to have them in focus. Influenza cut a swath through them after the war and much reduced the ranks, I’m afraid. So—Mrs. Merriman was left with the elderly maternal grandmother she shares with her cousin Thetis. Grandmama had four children: Adela, the eldest and mother of Maud; two sons, Albert and John; and finally Daphne, the mother of Thetis. Albert it is—the older of the brothers by three years—who appears to have been accepted as head and mouthpiece of the family. At least Lady Merriman deferred to him as such. I can’t speak for Miss Templeton.”

  There was a pause while they each silently speculated as to Thetis’s level of deference to her uncle Albert.

  “Of these siblings,” Benedict drove on, “the two men have gone on not only to marry but to produce male heirs. Albert has given Maurice and Richard to the world (a daughter died in infancy), and his brother John’s sons are Richard, Harold, and George. Six people, then, in the generation contemporary with Lady Merriman, would appear to be the roll call: five male cousins and Thetis.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “Lady Merriman was a wealthy woman in her own right. Her mother, Adela, married well and was left a rich widow. A goodly sum eventually made its way into Maud’s account. By agreement, she kept this family money separate from her husband’s. According to the terms of her original will, which was drawn up some years ago, there was a simple transfer of the bulk of this to her husband should he survive her, after the provision of certain sums of a substantial nature which were to go to each of her cousins equally. Six nominees: the cousins I’ve just referred to. The family money was making its way back into the family coffers, you might say.”

  “And now?” the inspector urged.

  “The will I have before me—which, of course, is amplified by the inclusion of the properties and money left to her by her husband—deletes all mention of Sir Andrew. Had he survived her, therefore, he would have seen no benefit from his wife’s provisions. Though he could, naturally, have challenged this in law … To put it simply: The bulk of her fortune is to be divided equally between her five male cousins.”

  “Male cousins? And Thetis? What about her?” Letty asked.

  “Her cousin Thetis has also been deleted and is now to receive nothing.” Benson lowered his eyes and inspected his fingernails while they absorbed this.

  Letty glanced at the inspector to judge his reaction. His professional mask was in place and she could read nothing in his face. Politely, he thanked the lawyer for his kind attentions and received from him the copies of the wills, making all the reassurances he required regarding discretion.

  Before he left, Benedict turned to shake hands with Letty and slipped a white business card to her. “You will be needing some professional help with all this,” he murmured. “Don’t hesitate and all that …” he added vaguely, smiled, and left.

  They sat down again in their places, each wrapped in his own thoughts. Finally Letty said bitterly: “Curse you, Maud! Vindictive in death—as in life! But Thetis wouldn’t have been expecting anything from her, you know … She’s not the kind of girl, I think, to feel dependence on anyone, so she won’t be disappointed. If she is, she’ll make light of it. Still … that doesn’t make Maud any less of a witch, does it?”

  “Isn’t that a little harsh, if what you both tell me is true-that the girl was allowing herself to be seduced by Maud’s husband under Maud’s own roof …?” Gunning began.

  “Someone’s roof … unlikely that there was any hanky-panky going on here,” said Letty.

  “‘Hanky-panky’?” Gunning repeated. “Doesn’t quite cover the seriousness of the sin and the betrayal, I’d have thought. Disgraceful behaviour. And it would have been reassuring to hear a less partial opinion expressed, Letty, a little more judgement exercised. Are you incapable of seeing this through Maud’s eyes simply because she was in your eyes elderly and infirm, and strikes no romantic chord with your bohemian set? The woman was deceived by those closest to her. She had a perfect right to leave her money where she thought fit.”

  Montacute flinched and looked uneasily from one to the other.

  “Yes, Your Reverence,” said Letty mildly. “Of course you’re right. It’s not my place to judge Maud and I’m sorry I spoke so flippantly. But listen—there’s things you don’t know yet … complications … At least Andrew did the decent thing and left Thetis an annuity.”

  “A large one. I was wondering about that … Odd, don’t you think?” said the inspector. “Designed to put his wife’s nose out of joint? Nothing like leaving your mistresses a comfortable amount of cash out of the family pot to infuriate from beyond the grave. Still—I’d have thought two hundred and twenty pounds would have been adequately infuriating,” he said with the precision that experience brought. “And—was the professor a vengeful man? I didn’t know him well but I wouldn’t have judged him petty. A man of generous impulses and forgiving nature, I’d have said. And why stick at Thetis? I can’t imagine she’s the sole survivor of the Siren Species who enlivened his middle years.” He had carefully refrained from mentioning Letty’s relationship with the professor, not being quite certain of the exact nature of her friendship with Gunning, she guessed, and she was grateful for his tact.

  “Well, he has left me a mystery box! If that counts.” Letty smiled, bringing her own relationship with the professor out into the open. “Though it begins to sound like Pandora’s unwanted Christmas present, if Benedict is to be believed. I shan’t dare open it! But I have good reason for thinking that Thetis was special, and I fear I’m going to have to tell you why,”
she finished hesitantly.

  The two men waited in silence for her to go on. “You can detect all you like, Inspector—you’re not going to be able to have Thetis hanged. Not for a while at least … perhaps never … You’re thrashing about in a dark room and my finger’s on the light switch. I don’t want to betray a confidence, but … oh, dash it all!… it will out in time anyway! Very soon now. She said so herself. And this is a double murder enquiry! No. Forgive me. I can’t. It’s not mine to disclose. I’d be interfering again, William. You’d give me another ticking-off and rightly so.”

  It was the more worldly Montacute who got there first. “My God! Oh, no! Oh, how bloody! Excuse me! Tell me my suspicious mind has leapt to the wrong outlandish conclusion! The wretched girl’s pregnant, isn’t she? Is that what she told you, Laetitia?”

  Laetitia nodded silently, alarmed by his strong reaction.

  “Sir Andrew was about to have an heir—of sorts—at last,” he pressed on, thinking aloud, marshalling their own turbulent thoughts. “And, according to the absurd generosity of his last-minute provisions, it would seem he’d been made aware of it and was acknowledging his responsibility.”

  “There we’d be guessing. I can’t say if Thetis told him or not. She didn’t confide that much. I do know that Maud was unaware.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” said Gunning grimly. “But it certainly does suggest a strong motive or two or three for murder. Oh, how foul!”

  The inspector sighed. “And the strongest emotion—jealous rage—would be motive enough for Miss Templeton to stab her lover to death. Perhaps she was using her … er … condition … as a lever to make him divorce his wife and marry her? ‘Just when you thought it too late … here’s the son you always wanted … You only have to get rid of a wife you can’t stand anyway …’ Not difficult to imagine. But he refused. So she took the opportunity of topping him backstage before the rehearsal started. She’s a strong girl. And women—excuse me—can be remarkably vindictive when thwarted. And, in their passion, capable of outlandish feats of strength. She could have hauled him about and tiddled up the corpse. If she appeared a trifle breathless, bloodstained, wild-eyed afterwards, who would notice? She was in rôle after all, the wronged queen of Mycaenae, just practising her speeches like the rest of us, wasn’t she? And the posing of the body in the bathtub … such an obviously angry gesture—he was, for her, at that moment, Agamemnon, the faithless betrayer, and she intended everyone to see him as such—in his true place. The public spectacle of his degradation was the vengeance she exacted for her betrayal—”

  “Rubbish, Percy!” Letty interrupted. “You’re thinking like a Mycaenaean! And you don’t believe that nonsense yourself, either. Thetis is a practical, modern woman. We all know that. She would have killed Maud first, wouldn’t she? If she had a killing urge at all—which I don’t think she has. She could have pushed the old girl over the balcony or off the Acropolis at any time—or poisoned her with her own pills and potions. Maud has a cupboard full of them and chomps them up like cachous. Um … used to, that is. Funny, I keep expecting her to walk in and pour scorn on us for not instantly seeing the truth. But—Thetis is clever, you know. If she’d wanted to kill Maud for the inheritance she thought might be her due, or to remove the obstacle to eternal happiness, she would have done the deed so discreetly we wouldn’t be here now discussing it.”

  Gunning looked from one keen, speculative face to the other and narrowed his eyes in disgust at their theorising. “The baggage! The termagant!” he huffed. “Obviously swept away by ungovernable rage. Poor Andrew tells her divorce and remarriage are not in his plans. So—she curses him for a treacherous, lecherous knave, remembers she’s Clytemnestra, pulls out the dagger she keeps in her stocking top for just such emergencies, and plunges it into his chest. Then, with reality for a rehearsal, she goes onstage and repeats the whole performance. Pleased with your scenario, are you, Montacute?”

  They stared at him for a moment.

  “Not so far-fetched, Gunning,” said Montacute thoughtfully. “The lady already has a mention on her record for use of a concealed weapon. The Yard have on record her confession to a blatant act of violence committed in London. Confession! Swaggering self-congratulation might be more accurate! But it’s that confounded blade that’s the key to the whole business. Find it and it tells us the killer’s name!… She was searched before leaving.” He looked enquiringly at Letty, struck by an unwelcome thought.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes, she was. Clean as a whistle. Nothing but a hanky and a few drachmas in her pockets. And, William, I did check her stocking tops.”

  “So—nothing found,” Montacute went on, relieved. “Yet. They’re still looking. But the provision he made for the girl in his will strikes me as having a sort of final-arrangement whiff to it. A ’pay-off And then there’s Maud! Why kill her? Clear enough to any prosecuting counsel—her inheritance. Thetis wasn’t to know that the old girl had changed the terms and excluded her. And if Maud knew—guessed—or even accused her cousin of stabbing her husband, Miss Templeton might, in a rage, have thrown her over the balcony to shut her up,” he offered.

  Gunning groaned. “Then, in the throes of a ravenous blood-lust, she flees into the night in search of a third victim? God! You were lucky, Letty! Her murderous rage must have evaporated by the time she turned up and tapped me coolly on the shoulder on Mrs. Rose’s doorstep with a kid-gloved hand.

  To think I may have scooted off, leaving you in the company of a ruthless double killer!”

  “Ah, no, Gunning, there you let imagination run away with you, I think,” said Montacute with lazy sarcasm. “Our girl could well have intended no more than to establish an alibi. Seeking shelter with a respectable and—I have to say, Miss Laetitia—gullible companion?”

  “You’re saying she was just trying to gain for herself a friend at court?” said Letty.

  “Huh! Friend in court might be more apt.” Montacute’s voice was suddenly heavy. “You may have to resign yourself to the fact that you have been used … manipulated by this woman, Miss Laetitia. I already have,” he admitted lugubriously.

  Chapter 25

  The telephone on Andrew’s desk rang and Montacute hurled himself across the room to lift the receiver with a curt “That’ll be for me, I expect.”

  Gunning leaned to Letty and muttered: “With a bit of luck it’ll be the fishmonger!”

  But the inspector greeted the caller chummily and fell at once into a conversation in Greek. He was talking to Superintendent Theotakis and they listened intently, not offering to leave the room. An accurate, as far as she was able to judge, account of his morning’s work ensued, followed by an arrangement to meet at headquarters for a conference after lunch, by which time some forensic evidence was expected to be to hand, as well as the preliminary findings of the postmortems. Montacute ended by saying he was just about to call a meeting of the Merriman staff for interview.

  “Your cue, I think, Letty,” said Gunning.

  The inspector called the staff together downstairs in the room in which they gathered to take their meals. More at ease in their usual surroundings, they would be easier to read, he’d explained to Letty. They would be more relaxed and he would be able to form some idea of relationships and hierarchies within the group. Individual interviews would follow, when the staff would feel free to indulge in the tittle-tattle which always brought something of importance to the surface.

  The permanent staff of four sat in silence around the table, and after an introduction by Letty each was asked to give an outline of his or her duties. Montacute listened and then asked: “No valet? The professor didn’t keep a valet?”

  “No, Inspector,” Laetitia replied. “Like many military men, Sir Andrew preferred to look after himself. This was a simple household from day to day. Extra staff are always available and brought in at times of greater activity. There were none such on duty yesterday.”

  “Then I’ll ask each to account for his or her movemen
ts at the time of Lady Merriman’s death last evening. Mrs. Stephanopoulos, will you go first? Followed by the cook, Petros, then Maria … general maid, is it? And lastly, the boot boy. Demetrios?”

  Montacute spoke to them in Greek and heard their evidence with understanding nods. He seemed happy for Letty to make the running, seeing that, although her version of the language was giving rise to some smiles and questions, they accepted her and were comfortable with her presence among them. Dorothea had been in the kitchen with the cook, discussing the next day’s menus, and Maria had been in the dining room laying the table for breakfast at the crucial time. Petros, who did not live in, had, after his chat with Dorothea, gone home for the night. Nothing apparently had disturbed anyone’s routine.

  Demetrios, too overcome to speak, sat close to the housekeeper and needed encouragement to explain that he’d been going about his nightly duties. The boot boy was feeling nervous, she explained protectively, because he was the one who’d found the body. He was afraid he might be held responsible for some misdemeanour … not closing the windows earlier and suchlike silliness. It had been a shocking experience for the young lad, finding her like that, and they might like to be a bit patient with him.

  No further visitors were expected at that late hour, Demetrios confided, haltingly, so, after Miss Thetis had come clattering in in her wooden sandals and whizzed straight past him in the hallway, he’d put his dusters away and gone about his usual rounds. Montacute fixed him with a keen stare and asked who else he had admitted to the house that evening. The boy replied at once and with evident puzzlement that he had let no one in besides Miss Thetis. A taxi driver had called about an hour later but had waited outside and helped Miss with her bag when she came downstairs. He’d noticed this because, drawn to his duties by the sound of someone galloping up and down the stairs, he’d waited about out of sight on the corner where the back passage joins the hall in case his help was needed.