“Because it’s complicated. Because he was having a relationship with my cousin. We didn’t know each other all that well. But, he needed to talk to someone. He didn’t know too many people. That was it. We hit it off.”
Brown moved his head, and the throbbing came back to torment him. That was a likely story—that she was just a friend and a shoulder to cry on. He didn’t believe it for a minute.
“And what did your cousin think of this … friendship?”
“She didn’t know.”
God, this was like pulling teeth. Brown wished he had access to some aspirin.
There was a silence, then she sighed heavily and cleared her throat. “Serena was the problem, Inspector. Sean had moved up here because it was what she wanted to do, for some reason. He stayed here because she wouldn’t move. He loved her, and though she’s my cousin, she played on that. Kept him dangling on a string.”
She sounded genuine. But, Brown felt his perception of the poet shift. They thought it was the other way around, that he was the rolling stone not wanting to gather any moss, that Serena had clung on. Where was the truth because surely it was the key?
“He was going, though, Miss Turner. However devoted he was to your cousin, we have it on fairly good authority that he was moving, probably back to Ireland.”
She stared at the inspector, unblinking for a few seconds. “He was. He’d told her. She wasn’t happy. Look, Inspector, I’m not telling you this to get my cousin into trouble. I can’t get her in trouble anyway, can I? She was at work at the time Sean was killed so she couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”
“You found the body?”
Brown was sure the inspector hadn’t forgotten the sequence of events, he must have his own reasons for putting it like this.
“No, I was in the house. My aunts found him on the grounds, and they came straight away for me. I was in the drawing room reading the paper. I’ve told you all this before, Inspector.”
“So you have, Miss Turner, but we’ve established that you may have got your accounts, well, let us say they might not have been as comprehensive as they might.”
Brown gave him a look. Comprehensive. Not how he usually spoke, being the professional plain-speaking Yorkshireman.
“How did they react to that? Your aunts, I mean.”
Her shoulders dropped as though they’d moved out of deep water and she could feel the bottom with her feet. “They behaved just as I would expect them to. Aunt Mary was twittering. She’s very nervous at the best of times. Maybe, now…” She pulled back from what she was going to say.
“Aunt Elizabeth…much as it’s wrong to speak ill of the death, but she was unperturbed—appeared to find it entertaining. At the same time, she wanted to disassociate the man from Swallow Hall. Claim that such a terrible thing could have nothing to do with the ancestral home. Then she made sly remarks about people and their visitors.
She meant Sean coming to see Serena, and as far as I know, my Aunt Kate does entertain a few of her friends at the odd time. Bridge parties, I think. They go around to each other’s houses so it probably isn’t even that often. At least she has friends. That would be why Aunt Elizabeth would give a dig. Jealous.”
“You didn’t show the sort of shock we’d normally expect when you were well acquainted with the man.”
“I can assure you, I was shocked. I didn’t show it, but I was shocked.”
“You’re good at hiding your feelings then, Miss Turner.”
Brown saw a tightening in her face. She was angry, didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking, presumably.
“What exactly is your job, Miss Turner?”
That threw her. She looked from one to the other of them as if confused. Inspector Greene was on form tonight. “I’m a private secretary to James Gilchrist. He’s the member of parliament for Sutton and Cheam.”
“That’s an important job. I’m very impressed, Miss Turner. What does that sort of role involve? I’m fascinated.”
“I look after his diary. Make sure his letters are typed and sent and that messages are passed onto him. Oh, many, many things, Inspector. It’s a busy and very varied life.”
Her voice had become more animated as she spoke. That seemed to be where her passion lay.
“So, it must be causing some disruption, all these trips up here?”
She nodded. Her nerves had settled. It was as though talking to her about her work had done the trick—relaxed her, a bit like the dentist chatting away about the state of the country or the weather. But, this wasn’t the dentist. This smart woman would do well to remain on her guard.
* * *
Edith prepared for a long wait and goodness knew that wasn’t her strong point. She knew her faults and impatience came high on the list. For something to do, she said yes to the cup of tea that the young constable had offered her. He was working late. It had the taste of institutional tea, the world over.
The wait wasn’t so long, and her heart eased when Hester emerged. Maybe it hadn’t been that serious then, and from a selfish point of view, maybe something could be salvaged from the evening.
“I suppose you want to go home? Not back to Julia’s for another cocktail?”
“Definitely not, Edith, if you don’t mind. I’m shattered. Being dragged to the police station has just about put the tin lid on a week, well a few weeks, I’d rather never repeat.”
Edith scrabbled about for something to say that wouldn’t be prying or insensitive. Difficult. She could hardly talk about her forthcoming wedding or chat about the weather. But, as soon as they were in the car, Hester began talking.
“The inspector discovered that I knew Sean Bracken. It was very stupid of me not to realise that in a place like this it was bound to get back to him.”
“I understand that, Hester. You forget how small and gossipy the dales can be. I have my own reasons to know that only too well.”
“We were friends, of a sort. Both at the mercy of my charming cousin, Serena. Thrown together, you might say.”
What did she mean by friends? There was a pattern here or was there? “I bumped into Serena myself when I went to collect Archie from the hospital. She was very upset, Hester.”
She’d tread carefully, here. There was clearly tension between the women. Nevertheless, the image she was getting from Hester of the scheming Serena was at odds with how Edith had found her, that day. The woman’s grief had been overwhelming, for goodness sake. She’d been unable to hold back her tears. Just what was going on? What was the truth about the relations between both these women and Sean Bracken?
“He was in love with her—for years. Put his life on hold. She liked that. She liked toying with him. It gave her power. First of all, she thought that by marrying Sean she’d be doing herself out of an inheritance. Along with all her other traits, my grandmother is quite the religious bigot. She wouldn’t have countenanced Serena marrying a Catholic—not that he was a practicing Catholic. Then, grandmother’s tune changed to just wanting one of us to get married.”
“Who do you think killed him, Hester?” Edith had had no intention of saying those words, but they had come out.”
“I don’t know. Not me, as I told that inspector.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Can I come in, Margaret?”
She’d only opened the door a crack and stood half-nervous, half-defiant. Would she go so far as to close it in his face?
“I know she’s here, Margaret. But look, it isn’t really that that’s brought me here. I won’t even see her if that’s how she wants it. But, I need to tell you something.”
She opened the door and led him to the tiny parlour at the front of the house. One of those sterile rooms with antimacassars and aspidistras in brass pots. A depressing room.
“They’ll be wondering where I’ve got to, Albert.”
“I won’t keep you. I just want to tell you about my day. Not that I’m looking for sympathy. I don’t even blame you for letting her
hide out here, and not tell me. You’ve done what you’ve always done—protected her. So, I’ll say what I’ve come to say and then leave you to it.”
“Well, sit down. Can I make you a cup of tea? Or a bottle of beer? Stan has some bottles in the pantry.”
“No, thank you. There’s a murder in the area. You’ve probably heard about. Poet chap. Then there’s been another unexpected death which is probably connected. A lot going on, you might say. So, I got back to the station to hear that the body of a woman had been dragged from the river…”
“Oh, God.”
He nodded. “You may well say that. I drove myself to the hospital and walked the long corridors to the morgue.”
He knew he was playing it to the hilt, but in a way that was almost exhilarating. It was fired by a deep fury that had followed close on the heels of the gut-watering relief he’d had when he saw it was someone else. Whoever the poor soul had been, he was so thankful that it wasn’t his wife.
“That must have been a terrible experience, Albert.”
“It was. But it made things very clear to me Margaret. I thought it was Bet, you see. I thought she was capable of it and maybe, that I’d driven her to it. She can’t force me to take her back, and her attempts to do that aren’t going to lead either of us anywhere good.”
“I think she realises that, Albert.” Her tone was gentle and for a minute he was so caught up in his own thoughts he barely heard the words. Then he briefly reflected on them and thought they were probably meaningless, anyway. It would take a mind-reader or Freud himself to work out what Bet was thinking, and as soon as he’d have figured it out, she’d change it.
“She threatened to go to my bosses—well not in so many words. She seems to think she knows where to hurt me most.”
“Has she grounds to think that, Albert?”
“I’ve given that some thought. Yes, and no. I haven’t broken any laws, stolen anything or seriously hurt anyone but in the early days in the job, I…well, I cut corners. That’s probably not the best way to put it. It was more being over-zealous. I sailed close to the wind and as a young and foolish man I told my wife everything.”
Margaret sighed. “Look, Albert. You need to talk to her. Thank you for putting me in the picture, but at the end of the day, it is Bet you need to talk to.”
“I know. And, Margaret. I understand why you took her in, and I don’t blame you.”
She gave him a small smile and went to get Greene’s wife. Whatever else happened, at least he and Margaret were on a better footing.
* * *
The last mile of the journey to Swallow Hall was painfully slow.
Everything Edith thought to bring up in conversation was inappropriate. Usually, she could make conversation, but not tonight, not with Hester in this situation. She wanted to ask whether Hester had been involved herself with the man but couldn’t. The consequences or implications of that were huge. She’d been in the house when the body was found. Serena had been at work, miles away. Something that the police would have established by now.
Hester broke the uncomfortable silence. “Things have changed in the house since my Aunt Elizabeth’s death. It’s going to be easier to leave them to it now. The person at the root of all the bad feelings in the house is no longer, so I expect they’ll settle down and rattle along together reasonably well.”
“Will Serena stay; do you think?”
“Oh, goodness knows.” Hester’s tone was impatient. “Who knows with my cousin? I don’t know how she operates except that she always comes up smelling of roses, and she always does what pleases her.”
Arguably, don’t we all? But, Edith didn’t know Serena Grant well enough to defend her, and it wouldn’t go down well anyway with Hester who had clearly taken against her cousin.
“Do you think your Aunt Elizabeth did deliberately take too many tablets? I’m sorry, that’s intrusive…”
“Don’t be daft. You’ve just brought me from the police station where I’ve been questioned about another death in or around the family home, so I’m not in a position to start acting coy, am I?”
She laughed harshly. “In answer to your question...I’ve thought of little else since it happened…she may have done. She’s the last person to have a conscience, and I struggle to imagine her doing it. The other thing about my Aunt Elizabeth was that she was fearless. Maybe her one admirable quality. But, she might take an overdose as a gesture…a sort-of…I’ll show you. If she had anything to do with Sean’s death, then she might have decided to have the last laugh—as she would see it.”
At that moment, they had just pulled up in the forecourt of Swallow Hall. Edith glanced quickly at her passenger in the glow of the outdoor lamp. Heather was looking at her too, an almost avid expression on her face, and a cold sensation prickled between Edith’s shoulder blades.
She sat in the car watching as Hester went into the house. Irrationally, she wanted to go up to the door and bang on it. There was an urge to stop something. But, this must be all in her mind. Who was she wanting to warn about what?
The house looked black in this gloaming, darkly lowering in a malevolent way. The windows and mullions were oppressively watching her, and she shivered. Forget about knocking or banging on doors and just drive back to Ellbeck and normality.
* * *
Albert Greene sat in the almost darkness of his kitchen, too wiped out to switch the electric light on. It was over. He felt that this time, it was truly over, and they could both get on with their lives.
Margaret had left the two of them alone in her parlour, anxiously looking from one to the other before softly closing the door behind her.
He didn’t tell Bet the story about his terrifying journey to the hospital, partly because he didn’t want to put any ideas into her head and partly because there was no point in trying to make her feel guilt or any other reasonable reaction. Simply, she didn’t see things the same way as other people. There was one certainty. He wasn’t going to share his home with her ever again. They could do it the easy way or the hard way. The easy way would be if he could somehow persuade her to make the decision herself.
He’d try.
Once again, he said that living together made neither of them happy—that he’d become a dry, old stick who lived for his job.
“But, we went to bed together, Albert.”
He had expected her to bring this up—was prepared. “You’re an attractive woman, and we were happy once. Old-time sake, Bet. You must know what I mean. It takes two, as they say.” He held his breath.
“You’ve always cared about that job more than you cared about me, haven’t you, Albert?”
Oh, God. He really was too tired for this. He made his mind go back to what had happened this morning. He couldn’t risk any of it ever again. He’d made his resolution, and this was the first step. “It’s the nature of the job, Bet. No nine-to-five office hours. For instance, now. I’ve only just got away, and it’s back first thing in the morning.”
“Well, that’s a lot for any woman to put up with, Albert.”
No-one’s asking you to, were the words which sprung instantly to his mind, but he just said, “I know, and that’s one of the reasons why I’m better off on my own.”
“You should have thought that before you asked me to marry you.”
“Yes. Well. A lot of water under the bridge since then.” Oh God, if only he wasn’t so tired. The idea of coming round here had fired him up, but the reality was different—exhausting.
He got up, and his whole body swayed for a second. What was the matter with him?
“Are you all right, Albert?”
Bet’s voice had risen, and she sounded as if she were a long way off.
He sat down again. “Maybe not too good.”
He swallowed and dimly he heard her go out of the room. Then, the room was noisy and full, and he was just aware that both Stan and Margaret had come back with Bet.
“Albert? Whatever’s the matter? You look as
white as a sheet.”
Greene shut his eyes for a second and drew a deep breath into his lungs. It was stuffy in this room, though. “If I can just sit here for a minute.” He hated this, hated it, the weakness, the mess of the whole thing.
“Bet, you and I need to go out to the kitchen and have a word. Leave Stan here with Alfred. Come on.”
“You all right, old lad?” Stan’s tone was rough, but he patted Albert on the shoulder, quickly, awkwardly. “All a bit too much for you, old lad?”
“Aw, I’ve made a right bloody idiot of myself. It’s been a day like…well, one I never want to live through again.”
“Margaret told me about the drowning, the trip to the morgue. Eh, Albie, that must ‘av been a bad do.” He mumbled, but Greene heard. “Bloody woman.”
“Not only that, I suppose. The case of the bloke whose body was found at Swallow Hall and one of the women in the house. I haven’t been there as much as I should, well, not there in spirit, I mean. He’s a good enough, young Brown, my sergeant, but well, you know, Stan, wet behind th’ears.”
“Tell, you what, Albert. I’ll go and get you a drink. You leave Bet to Margaret and me for now.”
Greene wiped sweat from his top lip. When Stan got back into the room, he’d talk about Wilf Barber’s batting potential in the forthcoming season. Bloody emotions; best left to women.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Aren’t you going home?”
Robinson was bent over a thick book on law and evidence, and he was getting on Brown’s nerves, hanging about.
“Thought I’d find out a bit more on the rules of evidence, you know, intent and that. Interesting. I liked it when we did it at training school.”
There was nothing wrong with him being here late or being interested in court procedure and all that. Brown tried to be fair, to rid himself of this sour resentment, but as he’d seen the head bent over the book, blond hair short and shiny with Brilliantine®, like a slick of water in the road, he’d wanted it to be like before. Before this eager, young lad had come here, making Brown feel old and jaded and always being here, a flaming puppy at Greene’s feet, tail wagging and tongue out.
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