The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries)

by Challis, Joanna

  Sharing a cab with the major and his two friends, Ellen and I reached home about nine-thirty. In preparation for our arrival and the subsequent party, every window emanated a deep yellow glow. I loved old houses lit up at night.

  Having indulged in a sweet champagne punch at my father’s premiere, I slipped out of the motorcar a little light-headed. Thankfully, the major prevented my foot from making a dramatic plunge into a ditch.

  “And here is your shawl.”

  Draping it across my shoulders, he lowered his lips to mine. “Shall we go in? I’m famished.”

  I was, too. I realized I’d hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.

  Among the first to arrive at the house, and, as daughter of the house, I gave the order for the kitchen to start serving. Shepherding everyone into the designated room, I flicked on the gramophone and listened to the first accordion ballad my mother had selected. Adjusting the volume, I watched with a smile how music relaxed one’s guests. We might have been in a French cafe.

  Seeing that everyone had a glass in hand, I handed mine to the major to look for Ellen. After helping me settle the increasing number of guests, she said she’d sneak a peek at Charlotte and then return. Since her husband’s death, it was the first night she was actually enjoying herself and the entertainment. Being in London, without the responsibility of Thornleigh, its renovations, and the recent quarrel with Harry, made this trip all the more appealing to her.

  Hurrying up the stairs, I heard a door slam.

  Ellen charged out, a sleepy Jeanne crawling at her feet. “Daphne, quick! Call the police!”

  I halted at her panic-stricken face. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “It’s Charlotte. She’s missing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Missing?”

  “I don’t know anything.” Jeanne wept into my mother’s arms. “Last time I looked she was asleep like me. I went back to bed. Where could she have gone?”

  Suddenly, my father’s successful party turned to one of morbid concern.

  “I think it’s a good idea if everybody left.” My father nodded to Major Browning and he began escorting the masses outside.

  “Now, Ellen. Didn’t you mention that Charlotte sleepwalks? Daphne used to sleepwalk. One night she went walking outside. As you can imagine, Muriel was in a panic but we found her. I’ll send Tim and William out to look. Rest assured they’ll search every nook and cranny. She can’t have gone far.”

  Still waiting for the police, Jeanne was questioned again.

  “I don’t know the exact time, Papa,” she wailed. “I swear I heard nothing, not even a peep from her. We had our dinner, I read her a story or two, and then she fell asleep. I stayed with her for a while and then I went to my own bed. I woke up once to check her and then I went back to bed.”

  After a gentle coaxing of the facts, my mother established Charlotte had gone missing between nine and ten o’clock.

  “It’s my fault.” Alicia shook her head. “I shouldn’t have left her. She was in my care.”

  “No, it’s mine,” Ellen cried. “I’m her mother. It’s my responsibility to ensure her safety and now she’s gone … kidnapped, murdered, or worse.”

  “Now, now, Ellen m’dear, don’t go jumping to conclusions.” My father reined her into his solid embrace. “We’re doing all we can to retrieve her.”

  “But don’t you see? She’s not just any child. She’s Charlotte Grimshaw, a great heiress in her own right.”

  “When was the last time she sleepwalked?”

  “Two months ago?” Ellen conferred with Alicia.

  “Six week ago,” Alicia said. “The night she had the bad dream. She walked out of her room and into mine.”

  “We’ve summoned all the household staff,” my mother said. “Someone must have seen her.”

  Still waiting for the police, my father began the interviews.

  “No, sir, we seen nothin’. Not since they went to bed.”

  “Who walked through the front hall between nine and ten o’clock?”

  Seven faces stared at him.

  “All of us, sir.” The butler spoke. “Except Mrs. Ireson.”

  The cook. Yes, well she didn’t leave the kitchen often.

  “And did any of you see Miss Jeanne go into Charlotte’s room like she says?”

  “No, sir. Most of us were down here, you see, helpin’ with the party.”

  My father looked grave. The same look registered in the police inspector’s face when he finally arrived at eleven.

  “Sorry, we’ve had a murder hereabouts. It’s been busy. If you say, Mrs. Grimshaw, your daughter sleepwalks, then there’s little we can do. Sir Gerald has already sent out his men to look for her. I’m sorry. We’re understaffed and murders take precedence over missing people. She’ll show up.”

  “You hope she’ll show up,” Ellen shrieked. “You don’t understand. I don’t think she’s been sleepwalking. Someone’s taken her. They said they’ll strike and they have! Oh, I never should have left her, not even for a moment!”

  Squeezing my hand, the major glanced down at me. “I’ll join the search.” And to my appealing gaze, he smiled. “No, you can’t come.”

  I protested, asking my father if I could go with him. Obtaining permission, I hooked my hand in his.

  “I’ll come.” Alicia jumped to her feet.

  “Me too,” Ellen said, glaring at the inspector. “It seems in this town one can’t rely on the police.”

  “Or perhaps it’s the people who are the problem and not the police, madam.”

  Pausing at the door, Ellen turned. “What are you insinuating, sir?”

  “Only that misfortune has occurred to two people close to you. Your husband … and now your daughter—”

  “Are you daring to say I had anything to do with it?”

  “You say ‘it,’ madam. What is it?”

  Seething, Ellen shook her head. “I won’t waste my time. Good day, Inspector.”

  “Good night, madam.”

  “I can’t believe the gall of that creature,” Ellen railed once we were on the street and into a hired cab. She gulped. “They still think I’m guilty, don’t they? That woman’s poison did it. Everybody believes I murdered my husband.”

  “No, they don’t,” I soothed, but what she said was true.

  “I know you didn’t do anything to hurt Uncle Teddy,” Alicia spoke out, quietly, keeping strict lookout for Charlotte.

  “Thank you.” Ellen seized her hand. “You’ve been so good to me.”

  “It’s an unsolved case,” the major explained. “Naturally, the police feel the pressure when they have no answers. Don’t take it personally, their assumptions, Ellen.”

  “And you, Major? Do you believe I’m a murderess? That I murdered my husband on our wedding day out of spite?”

  “Spite? I believe you mean for his money?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Forgive me. My mind is all over the place…”

  In the deep shadow of the taxicab, I examined Ellen’s fine profile. Her shrivelled nerves had suffered an attack from a police inspector who should have known better. However, why had she reacted so strangely?

  It was a curious reaction and one I felt uncomfortable attributing to my innocent friend.

  * * *

  Innocent? I reckon she’s as guilty as sin. She didn’t have to see her fiancé on the day of his death. She merely had to ensure he drank or ate the poison. Who better than she knew he had a bad heart? That a small amount ingested into his system would achieve a so-called natural cardiac arrest.

  Tearing out the typewritten page, I read it over. “What shall we call you? Inspector Pessimist?”

  Scrapping the page, I threw it in the wastepaper basket and resumed Janet’s world. However, the quiet seaside village of Polruan seemed as far from me as the moon. Unable to concentrate during this infernal waiting period, I rejoined the group downstairs.

  “It’s been too long,” Ellen was saying. “
Someone’s taken her. I just hope it’s money they want.”

  “Charlotte might turn out like Oliver,” Angela tried. “She’s smart and adventurous. She could walk in through that door any minute.”

  Alicia suspected the worst. Fear framing her face, she endeavored to read her book. Besieged with guilt, I imagined what kind of torment went through her mind. She hadn’t wanted to go to the play. She was happy to stay at home with Charlotte. And if she had, Charlotte might still be here.

  Poor Jeanne. I felt sorry for her, too. She hadn’t stopped crying and apologizing, from one to the other. Eventually, Angela took her out.

  While they were gone, the butler delivered a note to my father. I caught the exchange on my way back from the bathroom.

  “… are you sure? What age?”

  “About ten, sir. He was too fast for us. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “That’s all right, Stamford.” My father sighed, picking up the neat little letter. “This can only have bad news, but bad news is better than no news—eh?”

  “I agree, Papa.” Going to him, I anxiously hung on his sleeve. After last night’s search ended in nothing, the major promised to continue it today. He said he knew someone familiar with parts of London criminals inhabited. “What does it say?”

  Grim, my father bore the note to Ellen. “Shall I read it?”

  “Yes,” Ellen whispered, looking like a ghost.

  “‘Mrs. Grimshaw, I have your child. If you want her back alive, it will cost you ten thousand pounds. The longer you delay, the higher the price. Deliver the money to post office box number five-four-two in the name of Hillier. When I get confirmation of its arrival, I will release your daughter by the ticket office at Victoria Station.’”

  “There’s no name? No signature?”

  “No … and the writing is in black capitals, probably not even by the hand of the kidnapper, though I am no policeman.”

  “We had better telephone them,” my mother murmured.

  “I’d much rather Inspector James,” Ellen said. “Can’t we ask him to come?”

  “It’s not his jurisdiction.”

  Sinking into a chair, Ellen lifted a weary hand to her forehead. “I’ll have to see about the money…”

  “The police will probably advise otherwise,” my father said.

  “How can you not try with a child?” my mother retorted.

  “What assurance does she have though, if she goes ahead?”

  Crying softly, Ellen answered us through her tears. “None.”

  * * *

  True to my father’s prediction, the police suggested no negotiation.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’ve got the money ready and I know Teddy would have done the same. Major Browning?” Moving across the room, Ellen handed him the package. “Can you deliver this for me?”

  From the other side of the room, I saw the indentation in his jawline. His mouth tightening, I knew he didn’t approve of Ellen’s choice, but he accepted the package. “There is no guarantee this will bring back your daughter,” he did warn and my father echoed the major’s sentiments, volunteering to accompany the major on the mission.

  The two men left and I watched them go, my father and my future husband. They were strong men, handsome and charismatic, and I loved them more than anything in this world. What if something should happen to one of them?

  I dared not think about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “We’ve looked everywhere, Mrs. Grimshaw. No child has been found with her description.”

  Glassy-eyed, Ellen nodded. We’d all joined the hunt for Charlotte at Victoria Station and now as darkness expanded over the city, it was time to admit defeat. Taking Ellen in her arms, Mother led her to a waiting car, intending to put her to bed with a sedative.

  At the mention of sedative, an uneasy feeling crawled up my spine. Lady Gertrude, Ellen’s mother, had died of a misapplied sedative. Since Charlotte’s disappearance, I trusted no one. And once again those chilling words of Mrs. Haines’s echoed through my head: Death comes in threes.

  Who would be the third?

  “Thornleigh,” I said to myself. “Thornleigh has the answer to this riddle…”

  We had to go back.

  Driving home with Ellen, I talked her out of a sedative and instead went to Father’s study for brandy. Pouring a glass out of the decanter, I sniffed it. The pungent odor assailed my nostrils. It smelled normal. It smelled safe.

  As I stood there inspecting the golden liquid, I thought of Teddy Grimshaw. He’d have thought nothing of it, sipping his death-dealing potion just prior to death. Would I suffer a similar fate?

  What the inspector said of Ellen appeared true. She was at the center of all of this. Someone had tried to kill her twice and those around her were at risk. Having been at risk twice before, I hesitated before sipping the brandy.

  “Daphne? What are you doing there in the dark?”

  Yawning, my father scratched his belly. “Fancy a drink, do you? Then pour one for both of us.”

  “I’ll pour three,” I said. “I have to take one to Ellen. I’d rather her have it than a sedative. Remember her mother died of a sedative.”

  “Ah, the abominable Lady Gertrude.”

  “What do you remember of her?”

  “Nothing much,” my father admitted. “Only saw her once or twice. What are you doing with those glasses?”

  “Inspecting them. What if they are poisoned?”

  “Nonsense, my girl! You’re allowing all of this business to play on your mind.”

  “But you must acknowledge we are exposed to danger.”

  “Poor Ellen. Someone’s out for her and it ain’t Cynthia Grimshaw.”

  “They are after Teddy Grimshaw’s widow.”

  “Give me the drink. I’ll test it.”

  My father wasn’t a patient man. Squeezing my eyes closed, I heard him slurp the first centimeter.

  “It’s safe.” He chuckled. “You may tell Ellen I am now her cup bearer.” He laughed again, and after I’d delivered Ellen her nightcap, I rejoined him.

  “How is she?”

  “Not good. She can’t stop blaming herself. What would you do if I went missing?”

  “Dear me, I don’t know. I’d go mad I suppose.”

  “Would you have paid the ransom?”

  After a deep sigh, he raised his glass to me. “It’s a question any parent will answer yes to.”

  “But I’m not asking any parent. I’m asking you.”

  He delayed, and eventually his gaze connected with mine. “In this case, I’d have waited.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the note and how it’s written. ‘The longer you delay the price goes up.’ He did not intend to release her at all. At least, not yet.”

  “He wants more money?”

  “Invariably. It’s a game and we are not equipped to play it.”

  “If she hadn’t paid, she’d get another demand?”

  “Yes, and that note might have given us another clue.”

  “Is it worth a child’s life? Playing a game like this?”

  “Well, I don’t envy the police who have to deal with such creatures.”

  Nor did I and I felt sudden sympathy for the police around the world.

  Going upstairs, I knocked softly at Ellen’s door. There was no answer so I moved on, intending to go to bed. Yawning on my way in, I groaned. I really should check that she was all right. I hoped she was fast asleep for sleep gave her a brief escape from this nightmare.

  Turning the doorknob, I looked inside. It was dark and quiet. Tiptoeing closer to the bed, I swallowed.

  The bed was empty.

  * * *

  “There’s only one place she could have gone,” I said to my parents, waking them up in a frenzy.

  “She could be on the streets anywhere.” Hauling himself out of bed, my father put on his nightrobe and slippers.

  “I’d do the same.” My mother sighed. “I couldn�
�t rest, either. I’d keep searching all night. Why didn’t we think of it?”

  I followed my father downstairs.

  A deathly silence greeted us. “I don’t suppose anybody heard anything?”

  “Let’s not wake the servants.” My father yawned.

  “Where shall we start looking?”

  “You think she’s gone to that post office and not searching the streets, like your mother says?”

  “Yes, I do. Can we take the car?”

  I persuaded him to go out. Both of us left in our nightgowns.

  “This is a waste of time,” my father said, driving down darkened streets where the only activity was the dull flicker of a night lantern. “She could be anywhere.”

  “Let’s check the post office first. If she’s not there, she’s at Victoria Station.”

  “I’m not even sure how to get to this post office, as the major drove yesterday. I do know how to get to Victoria Station.”

  “Then let’s try there. We have to try, Papa. We can’t leave her out here alone.”

  My father’s face turned solemn. “That might be what the blackmailer is hoping. Perhaps he’s using the child as bait.”

  “But isn’t he after the money?”

  “Not if it’s personal. That fellow Jack Grimshaw. He’s Rosalie’s lover, isn’t he? The two of them are probably working together.”

  A sickening reality curled in my stomach. Who else needed money more than they did? Who else could have such a grudge against Ellen and Charlotte?

  With her mother dead, Rosalie Grimshaw seemed the most likely suspect. Was she the type of person to kidnap her own sister?

  With Jack Grimshaw handling the particulars, maybe. My father and I discussed this possibility in the dead of the night.

  Having never seen London in these wee hours, I appreciated the ghostly buildings, the glowing street lanterns, the empty streets, the busy promise of tomorrow.

  “Grimshaw’s burned his chances this side of the ocean,” my father acknowledged. “Wily fellow. I’m glad I chose not to invest with him.”

  “He’d have stolen the money and run. Easy money is what he wants.”