by J. R. Ellis
Steph poured out coffee. ‘As far as the Ramsays are concerned, I find it difficult to think that the husband could be the killer. He seemed an amiable sort of bloke who didn’t want to rake up the past. Redmire’s ex-wife, though . . . Now there’s a woman who suffered and could have been nursing a grievance. Also, living here for so many years makes it more likely that she may have been the person who somehow discovered things about the trick.’
‘Yes,’ replied Oldroyd, sipping his coffee. ‘I thought she may have some hidden depths below that controlled exterior. She was the opposite of Dominic Carstairs, who was all irascibility and bluster, full of resentment and anger. He seemed intent on making himself a suspect, but apart from revenge on his brother for being older than him and inheriting the title and the estate, he didn’t stand to gain anything, so I don’t see him as a strong suspect. His wife, though, was curiously calm about it all, didn’t seem shocked or particularly upset, which makes me suspicious.’
‘But what would her motive have been, sir?’
‘I’ve no idea at the moment, but it occurs to me that maybe she could have been another of Lord Redmire’s conquests who was then abandoned; so we’d be back to the fury of the woman scorned.’
‘Poppy’s a spoiled rich kid,’ observed Steph, ‘and I think she laid on her grief for her father a bit. She’ll miss him all right but mainly because there’ll be no more handouts. I can’t really see her planning to murder him, though; first, because I don’t think she’d be capable of it, and second, it would have been against her interests.’
‘Same goes for the boyfriend, really. They both needed Redmire alive to preserve their source of income – unless they were so desperate for money that they wanted to get their hands on Poppy’s inheritance, but that may not have been worth that much. So . . .’ He slapped his hands on his legs and summed up: ‘I agree that that didn’t yield very much. They were all in the lobby at the time of the murder; no one saw anything suspicious; all deny any knowledge of the trick; and they all claim to know no one who would have wanted to kill him.’
‘Are you going to let them all leave now, sir?’
Oldroyd pulled a face. ‘No, I don’t like them – all rich and privileged – so they can stew for a bit longer.’
Steph laughed as she crunched into an apple while Oldroyd unpeeled a banana.
‘Sir, that’s not a very professional reason to keep them here!’ she said between mouthfuls.
Oldroyd ate his banana and smiled. ‘You know I’m only joking. I’m not ready to release them yet. We’ve got more people to interview: the resident family and the employees. We’ll wait at least until we’ve been through them; they might have some interesting information on the people we’ve already seen. Let’s start off with the rest of the family. We’ll have to spread ourselves out a bit or it’s going to take forever. You take the dowager, and I’ll go after the new Lord Redmire and his family. I find it hard to believe that the dowager could have conspired to kill her own son, but who knows? These minor aristocratic families can be very strange. At least you might get some useful history. Remember, she was there for the original performance of the trick. See what she remembers about it.’
‘Sit down, my dear.’ The dowager Lady Redmire gestured with a wizened hand towards an ornate old-fashioned sofa next to her high armchair. She was wearing a flowery print dress and a woollen cardigan. She looked calm and unruffled.
‘I’m sorry about your loss,’ began Steph. ‘Is it OK if I ask you some questions?’
‘By all means,’ replied the old lady with surprising equanimity. She paused and looked into the distance. ‘All I can say is that, in a way, I’m not surprised; he always seemed to have something like this coming to him.’
‘Why was that?’
‘He was reckless with money, and with people’s feelings. His father wasn’t good with money either, but Vivian was a kind man and he didn’t get involved with other women. Men like my son, I expect, make a lot of enemies.’
‘Do you know of anyone in particular who would’ve wanted to harm him?’
‘No. I had no idea who he saw or what he did; he never told me anything about his life. I know he lost money gambling – he didn’t get that habit from his father either. And he had lots of affairs. I don’t know how Antonia put up with him for as long as she did.’
‘Antonia must have been very bitter about the way she was treated.’
Lady Redmire looked at Steph archly. ‘Yes, and I know what you’re getting at, but no, Antonia would never have done anything violent. She’s far too dignified. She did the right thing and just left him, divorced him, and now I think she’s happy with Douglas; she deserves it. She still comes to see me regularly – lovely woman. I think of her as the daughter I never had and I told Freddy only yesterday that she was always too good for him.’
‘When did you last see Lord Redmire?’
‘He came over at about five o’clock. We argued as usual.’
‘What about?’
Lady Redmire frowned and shook her head. ‘I didn’t approve of his ridiculous idea, this reviving a trick of his father’s. It was bad enough the first time round. I never knew what Vivian was going to do next, although I always knew it would cost money. Freddy got the television people involved. He tried to keep that from me for a while but he didn’t dare not tell me in the end. What a carry-on! One of the best things about Redmire is the peace and quiet. I couldn’t believe he wanted to carry out such a stunt and have the place swarming with people. At least Vivian only performed his tricks for his friends; it was an expensive way of showing off, I suppose.’
‘Did your husband ever tell you anything about this locked-room trick – about how it worked and so on?’
‘Goodness me, no! He never told me anything about any of his ridiculous obsessions.’ She laughed. ‘It was all fun for him – and harmless, I suppose, if it all hadn’t cost so much. The problem with them both was they were brought up with money, never had to work for it, so they were completely careless about it.’
‘He had people to help him, you know, to sort of install the thing.’
‘Yes, he did. I remember that he placed that part of the house out of bounds to everyone – myself included – for months, and I remember people arriving with things in vans, but I don’t know who they were. Some of them came from Italy, I think, but he put them all up at the inn in the village so they couldn’t mix with anybody at the house and I imagine they were all sworn to secrecy. The only person who I think might have had something to do with it was poor Harry Robinson; he was a kind of mechanic and I think he was in on it.’
‘He almost certainly was and that’s probably why he’s been killed: so he couldn’t talk to us.’
‘Was he part of this terrible plan, then? I can’t believe that. The family always treated him well and he was devoted to Redmire Hall – spent his whole working life here, I think. I can’t think why he would have had any kind of grudge against Freddy.’
‘We don’t know the extent of his involvement, but it was probably his knowledge of the mechanics of the trick that was used to set it up again.’
‘I see. Then he was disposed of. How dreadful.’
Dreadful it certainly was, but again she seemed very sanguine about it all. She’s a tough old bird, thought Steph.
‘What do you remember about that night when your husband performed the trick for the first time?’
‘Well, it’s a long time ago, but I remember Vivian put a lot of effort into planning it all. He was single-minded to the point of obsession when he really got his teeth into something. He organised a dinner – at great expense, of course – and he hired some kind of actress to be his “beautiful assistant”, as they say. He dressed her up in a sparkly costume and got her to speak in a foreign accent. It was all a bit clichéd, but Vivian could always laugh at himself.
‘I’m afraid to say that on the night itself, I wasn’t really concentrating; my sister had come to stay and she had
quite young children, two girls. They wanted to stay up to see what was happening but of course it didn’t really work out. They soon got bored, didn’t really understand what was going on. Rose and I had to watch them all the time, but they were quite good. They sat at the side, playing. Marbles, I think it was. I remember that Olivia, she must have been about eight, went over to look into that room before Rose called her back. Anyway, I just let Vivian get on with it. Everybody was terribly impressed. Vivian was elated, said it had been a triumph. The problem afterwards was that he refused to repeat the trick for fear that it wouldn’t make as much of an impression the second time, or that someone might work out how he’d done it. That sort of left him with nothing more he could do with it, so he turned his attention to something else and the room was just left. Locked up and strictly out of bounds to everyone. I thought it was a lot of money to pay for one performance for his friends, but he always said it was his greatest achievement.’
‘As far as you know, is there any record of who was here that night and saw the trick performed?’
‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Viv never bothered with anything like that. Most of the people I can remember being there are dead now.’
‘What about your sister and your nieces?’
‘I’m afraid Rose is no longer with us. Died in her fifties – cancer. Charlotte’s in America; she was only five at the time. Olivia . . . now, Olivia: she comes to see me now and again. I don’t have an address for her but her surname’s Pendleton. She’s in London somewhere; she’s a fashion designer.’
‘Do you know who she works for?’
‘No, I think she’s freelance, not famous. I always get the impression she struggles. Let me see, she’ll be in her mid-forties now. Can you believe it!’
Steph decided to move on. ‘So you didn’t really approve of the way your son ran things here?’
‘No. The fact is, he was forced into things because he was short of cash, and he was short of cash because he gambled. Dominic would have made a much better job of things – boring but practical – and I have high hopes for Alistair, who’s a very sensible young man. I think he’ll get the estate back in order.’
‘When you say your son was “forced into things”, what do you mean?’
For the first time, the dowager Lady Redmire seemed to weigh her answer carefully. ‘I think he had some plans for the estate, but I don’t know any details. We women never get consulted in these old aristocratic families. Women are just there to provide an heir, and ideally a male heir. He probably wouldn’t have dared to tell me about them because he knew I would have disapproved. I don’t think Freddy really cared about Redmire at all; it was just somewhere to make money for him.’
‘So what do you suspect he was planning to do?’
‘I can’t imagine and I don’t like to think about it; but at least now it’ll never happen.’ She smiled at Steph, seeming almost relieved that her son was dead and that his awful plans, whatever they were, could never come to fruition. Steph found it rather chilling.
Alistair and Katherine Carstairs sat together on a sofa in their modest living room in the former head gardener’s house, looking very sombre as Oldroyd appraised them with his shrewd grey eyes. Was it genuine grief that made them look so serious, or was it their impending responsibilities as the new masters of Redmire?
‘I want to say at the outset, Chief Inspector,’ said Alistair, rather formally, ‘that if there’s anything we can do, don’t hesitate to ask.’ His wife nodded. ‘What’s happened is absolutely dreadful: my father and poor old Harry Robinson both murdered in one evening.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t make any sense of it.’
Very helpful, thought Oldroyd, but they seemed to assume they were completely above suspicion themselves, whereas in fact they had one of the strongest motives.
‘Did your father have any enemies – people who might want him dead?’
The couple exchanged glances. Alistair replied for them both. ‘I’m sure you’ve already found out from the others that my father was the kind of person who often left trouble in his wake. His financial dealings and his . . . his personal life . . .’ Oldroyd saw him struggle for a polite term to describe his father’s philandering. ‘. . . were such that I would be lying if I said there was nobody with a grudge against him, but killing is another matter.’
‘I agree, Chief Inspector,’ said Katherine. ‘I don’t believe my father-in-law had done anything bad enough to justify anyone wishing to murder him.’
‘That’s in your opinion,’ replied Oldroyd, who looked deceptively relaxed in an armchair with his arms resting on each side, though his keen eyes were as alert as ever, ‘but other people might see it differently, especially where money and, shall we say, passions are involved.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘We’ve started to build a picture of your father’s relationships: the failed business, the gambling, the affairs, the divorce from your mother. What I wanted to ask you was how far you were involved in running things here. Did Lord Redmire consult with you as his heir?’
Alistair shook his head. ‘He didn’t, I’m afraid. My father considered it his responsibility to run affairs here and he never discussed things to do with the estate with anyone, as far as I know, except the estate manager – who, of course, is a professional and not part of the family – and even then the consultation was limited. If you tried to ask him about it he could get very tetchy.’
‘Do you think that was because he had things to conceal?’
‘What kind of things?’
‘I’m thinking mainly of the overall state of the finances here. There seems to be a feeling that things were not in good shape, due to your father’s gambling and so on.’
Alistair frowned. ‘I assume Uncle Dominic’s been saying things to you. I get on all right with him, Chief Inspector, but he’s made no secret of the fact that he’s bitter about my father inheriting the estate and that he considered him both a waster and a useless businessman.’
‘Did you agree with his views?’
Alistair appeared to hesitate.
‘My husband doesn’t want to be disloyal to his father, Chief Inspector.’ Katherine looked across sympathetically at her husband. ‘But we knew what he was like with money and it was a constant worry for us: what might be happening to the estate and what exactly would we inherit.’
‘Did you assume that things were gradually deteriorating?’
‘I suppose so, yes,’ replied Alistair, hesitantly, glancing back at his wife. He seemed to be calculating how much to say. ‘I was aware that he had plans of some kind, and so was my grandmother. He let one or two things drop occasionally; never gave any details, though.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Oh, if we were talking about Redmire, he’d say that things never stayed the same in life, that everything had to change eventually. Just hints, really.’
‘Do you think he discussed these plans with other people?’
‘As far as I know, not with anyone except the firm of property developers he dealt with.’
‘It sounds as if he knew his proposals wouldn’t be popular.’
‘Maybe, or maybe he just wanted to do things in his own way without interference; he was very stubborn like that.’
Oldroyd lackadaisically tapped the tips of his fingers together as his elbows rested on the chair arms. ‘Had your father behaved strangely in way any recently? Had you noticed anything unusual around the estate?’
The Carstairs exchanged glances again. ‘Well, that’s a bit difficult to say, Chief Inspector, with all the preparations going on for the event; things weren’t exactly normal. My father seemed in good spirits. I think he really believed that this trick and the spin-off, as it were, would generate money.’
‘So he didn’t seem worried at all, as if he was afraid someone might attack him?’
‘No. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting anything of the kind.’
‘There was something odd tha
t happened, but it’s a little while ago now, Chief Inspector,’ said Katherine. ‘I told Alistair about it at the time.’
‘Yes?’
‘One night – it was several months ago – I couldn’t sleep so I got up and went downstairs. It was about two o’clock in the morning. From our kitchen we can see over to the estate office, where Richard Wilkins and his staff work. I noticed there was a light in one of the rooms. It looked like a torch moving around, and I could see the shadow of someone. It was all a bit spooky. I immediately thought about burglars, and I watched for a while. And then the light went off. No one came out of the outside door that I could see, but there is another one at the back, which was out of sight. I called the police and went over with them, but by that time there was no one in the building. The door was locked. We found a broken window at the back, which was open, so that was how they must have got in, and the room I’d seen the light in was Richard’s office. Anyway, I went over first thing in the morning and told Richard when he arrived.’
‘Very interesting,’ declared Oldroyd, who was listening intently. ‘So what was the outcome?’
‘Nothing, really. The police never found a suspect. There were no unexpected fingerprints on any item, and it was strange that nothing appeared to have been stolen. The room was in order. If it hadn’t been for the broken window, I might have thought I’d imagined it.’
Oldroyd shut his eyes and paused to think. ‘Thank you very much for that. Well, that’s all for now.’ He looked at them both. ‘I suppose you’re going to find out soon enough about the estate finances. How do you feel about your inheritance? Becoming the new Lord and Lady Redmire?’
The couple exchanged glances yet again. Neither seemed to want to speak without the other’s permission.
‘To be honest, Chief Inspector, we haven’t had time to think about it,’ said Katherine.
‘We have other things to think about now: funerals, and who on earth has done these terrible things,’ added Alistair.
‘Yes,’ said Oldroyd.
The interview ended where it had begun.