by J. R. Ellis
Oldroyd laughed. ‘So I take it you turned them down?’
‘You bet. I didn’t even stay for the interview and I told them what I thought as well. I can’t believe they still expect women to play that role, showing their bodies off. Dad, are you listening?’
Oldroyd had gone into one of his reveries. ‘Sorry, you’ve just made me think of something.’ He’d suddenly realised there was someone in the Redmire Hall story they’d forgotten, and he had a hunch this person might turn out to be important.
The next day, Oldroyd and Steph were driving through the countryside near Ripon. It was a warm but overcast day. They crossed the River Ure, now calmer and deeper after its journey from the wilds of Abbotside Common down through Wensleydale and towards the Vale of York. Steph noticed a heron on the bank, keeping a still watch over the clear water that flowed smoothly over the green weeds beneath. They were on their way to Belthorpe Manor.
Oldroyd was enjoying the drive and making a big effort not to let what had happened the previous day affect him. He knew this interview was a long shot and probably a waste of time. What could a woman who was only a child of eight at the time remember about a fleeting event on which she wasn’t really concentrating? Nevertheless, it had not proved possible to track down anyone other than Lady Redmire who had witnessed the original performance of the trick and he still felt that there might be insights to be gained from finding out more about that famous night.
He turned left on to a narrow lane with high hedges and before long saw a sign pointing to ‘Belthorpe Manor Walled Garden’. The house was not open to the public. It had a reputation for being a spooky old place, with staircases to hidden rooms where people had been locked up. The old kitchen garden, however, was a local attraction, with flower borders and a shop that sold fruit in season and herbaceous plants.
Oldroyd drove down a dirt road between high beech trees to a small car park near some broken cold frames. It was a weekday, and there were no other cars. The house was nearby and they approached it through an old stable yard. There was a deep quiet everywhere.
Oldroyd pressed a weathered white button near the front door, and a bell sounded in the distance. The detectives waited and Oldroyd was about to push the bell again when suddenly the door opened and a grey-haired and red-faced woman dressed in muddy cord trousers appeared.
‘Ah! You must be the detectives. Oldroyd’s the name, isn’t it? I’m Isobel Langley, Olivia’s aunt. It’s all a terrible business over there. My brother was married to Rose, Lady Redmire’s sister. Olivia’s in the garden with her art things. She likes to paint and draw the house and garden when she comes up here. I’ll take you over. I was just coming out myself; got plenty to do this afternoon.’
‘So do you do quite a bit of work in the garden yourself?’ asked Oldroyd.
‘Oh, yes,’ she continued in the same breezy, confident tone. ‘I can’t keep away, though I’m nearly eighty. It keeps me going. There’s always so much to do and hiring staff is so expensive these days. It’s not like the gardens at Redmire, of course. They’re magnificent, but they have a big staff to maintain them, and David Morton in charge. That man is so devoted to those gardens and he knows every corner of them.’
‘Yes, I’ve met him,’ said Oldroyd.
‘Does your niece come here a lot?’ asked Steph.
‘Once or twice a year. It’s nice that she’s kept in contact now that her parents have gone. She wasn’t that old when her mother died and I think she’s always looked upon me as a second mother.’
‘I explained why we’re here on the phone,’ said Oldroyd. ‘Do you remember anything about Vivian Carstairs’s trick?’
She laughed. ‘No, only that it was the talk of the neighbourhood for a time. We weren’t there. My husband and I weren’t that well in with the Redmires. Vivian was a delightful eccentric, but Johnny, that’s my husband, didn’t care for him. He was a much more practical man – said Vivian wasted money on his silly ideas. This way . . .’ She led them through a wooden gate in the high brick wall.
‘I never warmed to Ursula – always struck me as cold and rather snooty. She seemed to enjoy making little remarks about how much bigger and more important Redmire Hall was compared to here. As if I cared! I haven’t seen her for years, though it’s only just down the road. To be perfectly honest . . .’ She looked around and lowered her voice. ‘. . . we never really wanted Edward – my brother, Olivia’s dad – to marry into that family. I’m sure they never thought he was good enough for Rose, though they were perfectly happy together. Anyway, look, there she is. Olivia, darling, the detectives are here!’
A stylishly dressed woman in her mid-forties, with long hair tied back, looked up from where she was sitting on a garden chair. She had an easel in front of her. She waved at Oldroyd and Steph.
‘Now, you go and join her and I’ll get someone to bring you some tea. I’m going to do some deadheading in the rose garden,’ Isobel said before she strode off.
Olivia stood up and shook hands with Oldroyd and Steph. ‘Please, have a seat,’ she said in a Home Counties accent, drawing up two more chairs.
‘That’s brilliant!’ remarked Steph, who was looking at the watercolour on the easel. It was a view of the flower borders with the orangery at the top; there was a very delicate use of colour and form.
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Olivia. ‘I love it here. It’s so peaceful after London and I always bring my painting things. I find it so relaxing.’
‘I can see why you’re in design,’ said Oldroyd. ‘You have a good eye for colour.’
‘You need it in my job. Anyway, how can I help you? We’re all shocked at what’s happened at Redmire, though I haven’t been there for years. I sort of lost contact when my parents died. You want to ask me about that trick thing when I was a girl?’
‘That’s right.’
‘It’s a long time ago. I don’t understand how I can really help.’
‘Anything you can remember about that night; it could help us to understand what happened when Lord Redmire was murdered.’
‘Freddy Carstairs – yes, he had quite a reputation.’
‘For what?’
‘For gambling and womanising. He was known all over. He used to get invitations to fashion shows – through people he knew, I suppose – and he’d turn up and go backstage. The models used to say it was unwise to get into a room with him. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself.’
Steph grimaced at this new bit of unsavoury information.
‘I never let on that my family had a connection with him. I was too embarrassed. Well, as far as that night goes, I’ve been thinking about it since you called. I remember Charlotte – that’s my sister – and I were very excited about it, because it meant staying up. But, like kids do, we soon got bored because there was too much talking and nothing seemed to be happening. We were sitting on chairs watching while Vivian was building it all up but we started to get restless, especially Charlotte; she was only about five. So we were allowed to get down off the chairs and play marbles at the side. My mum and Auntie Ursula kept telling us to be quiet because we were scampering after marbles that we’d shot off too hard, but we got so engrossed in the game that we almost forgot what was happening.’
A young man arrived with a tray of cups and saucers and a pot of tea. There was a plate of delicious-looking scones.
‘Thank you, Anton,’ said Olivia, and poured out the tea. Oldroyd helped himself to a scone, liberally applying the butter.
‘So you weren’t really taking any notice when the room was being examined?’ he asked after a while.
‘No. I’m sorry. I’m not being much help, am I? We didn’t really understand what was going on. It was all too slow for us.’
‘Lady Redmire said you actually looked into the room at one point,’ said Steph.
‘Yes, I did. I remember there was a big cry of “Ooh!” That must have been when the door was opened, and he wasn’t there. At that moment, Charlotte threw a marbl
e and it went right across and into that room, so I went over to get it. No one took much notice at first. There were people in the room trying to find a hiding place and I could see my marble by the chair. I was just about to go in and get it when Mum called out to me crossly to come away immediately, so I left it.’
‘OK. So at least you got a look inside. Was there anything about it that seemed odd to you? It doesn’t matter that you were only a child – sometimes children notice things that adults don’t.’
Olivia sighed and seemed to be thinking hard.
‘No, I can’t say there was. It was just a little room with a desk, chair and bookshelf.’
‘What about the people? Did you notice anything unusual about them? Did they do anything strange?’
She was struggling to recall. ‘I just remember a lot of grown-ups looking under the chair and knocking the walls and stuff. Charlotte and I liked the woman who was the assistant. We thought she was really glamorous. We would have liked to have been her – though with that outfit and everything, it wasn’t exactly PC.’ She laughed.
‘Do you remember what happened next?’
‘Lord Redmire reappeared and then they did it all again, I think. You see, we weren’t really concentrating; the trick wasn’t aimed at children. We just concentrated on our game.’
Oldroyd could barely conceal his disappointment. As he’d suspected, they’d learned nothing. He looked at Steph, who gave him a wry smile, indicating that she was thinking the same. He decided there was no point staying any longer. They had to go back and pursue another lead. He got up, shaking the crumbs off his trousers.
‘Well, many thanks for your help and for the tea; we’d better be going.’
Steph and Olivia got up too.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,’ Olivia said.
‘Never mind,’ said Steph reassuringly. ‘It’s been interesting to talk to you. By the way, did you get your marble back?’
Olivia accompanied the officers as they walked towards the garden gate.
‘No, as a matter of fact I didn’t. I forgot to tell you. I waited until they opened the door again and Lord Redmire was in there and I sneaked over again, when I thought Mum wasn’t watching, to get the marble. But it wasn’t there.’
Oldroyd stopped and turned to her. ‘It wasn’t there? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I suppose it must have rolled away somewhere in the room, but it wasn’t by the chair where I’d seen it before; I managed to have a good look round the floor before Mum called me out again, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Funny, isn’t it?’
Oldroyd didn’t reply so Steph said, ‘Yes, odd – at least you had plenty more.’
Oldroyd remained silent as he and Steph drove back up the dirt road. From experience Steph sensed that there was something important going on in his mind.
‘What did you make of all that, then, sir?’ she asked after a while.
Oldroyd was thinking that it was often the last remark – the throwaway, unexpected detail – that proved to be the most significant.
‘Very interesting,’ he said.
Andy Carter arrived back in Leeds later that day. It was a warm evening, so he and Steph went out for a few drinks on the roof garden of one of their favourite bars. They enjoyed the thrill of being together again and looking out over the rooftops of Leeds. From the bar they went on to a pleasant little Italian restaurant by Leeds Bridge. Italian food was their favourite, maybe because their first date had been at an Italian restaurant in Harrogate. They were both eating pizza: Steph had a vegetarian one with artichokes while Andy ploughed his way through some heavy meat-feast version with spicy sausage, which to Steph seemed more American than Italian.
‘It’s great to be back,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘God, it’s so expensive down there. I don’t know how anyone survives.’
‘They live in garages and rabbit hutches, don’t they?’ Steph loved teasing Andy about his London origins.
‘It seems like it; the mortgage on even a rabbit hutch is pretty high.’ They laughed and Andy sat back. ‘I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel I can breathe again. There’s space all around me.’ He lounged expansively in the chair.
‘There’ll need to be if you go on eating pizzas like that,’ quipped Steph. She was mildly concerned about Andy’s weight.
‘I know, but I can’t stand ones like yours with nothing on them but different types of leaves.’
Steph drank some wine, and her eyes sparkled at him mischievously. ‘You’re so old-fashioned, you know. You think you haven’t had a meal unless you’ve had meat. Over-consumption of meat is one of the big problems affecting the environment, let alone the effects on health.’
He looked a little sheepish and then grinned. ‘OK, but cut the guilt lecture. I’m only just back. No one down there in the family takes any of that seriously. They go to these fried-chicken shops and McDonald’s and stuff all the time.’
‘It’s a shame; the kids are getting into the wrong eating habits.’
‘I know, but tell that to my sister; she’s so under pressure with work that she hasn’t got time to cook properly.’
‘Her and thousands of others.’
‘Yeah. Anyway, talking of work, how’s it going over at Murder Manor?’
‘It’s fascinating – makes a change from the run-of-the-mill stuff in the suburbs. You get to see how the other half lives – but they’re a pretty obnoxious bunch, to be honest, with one or two exceptions. It’s a puzzler, as it usually is when you’re working with the boss.’
‘So Lord Moneybags, whatever his name is, got bumped off in a room while he’d disappeared and then came back dead?’
‘Something like that,’ laughed Steph. ‘You make it sound ridiculous, but actually it was pretty spine-chilling when he reappeared with the knife in his back.’
‘I’ll bet. And all on telly.’
Steph finished eating a mouthful of pizza. ‘Then there was the second murder: of a bloke we think knew about the mechanics of the illusion thing.’
‘Silenced.’
‘Looks like it. We’ve interviewed everyone who was there who might have a motive, but nobody’s stood out. It’s a hotbed of sex and money and jealousy and stuff.’
‘How’s the boss?’
‘I’m not sure. I think he knows more than he’s letting on, as usual, but it’s not been easy going. It’s a very well-planned crime – and also someone took a shot at him.’
‘What!’
‘Yeah. He was coming back over the fields from a pub in the nearby village and someone shot at him with a rifle – just missed.’
‘Bloody hell! That’s serious stuff. You’ll all have to go carefully.’
‘Yeah, I know. Anyway, he’s deeply into it and I think whoever shot at him knows he’s going to crack it at some point so they tried to get rid of him. His mood’s been a bit up and down.’
Andy and Steph had great admiration for Oldroyd and also a concern for the unhappiness they sensed in him at times.
‘He was full of it the day we went to Redmire, singing in the car and stuff, but since then he’s been mixed and I don’t think it’s to do with the case. I’m sure he’s still hankering after his wife, but she’s not playing.’
Andy took a swig of his lager. ‘I don’t know why he doesn’t just forget her; move on and find someone else.’
‘Hark at Mr Romantic! He’s been with her a long time and I expect he still loves her. It’s not that easy. I think it’s quite touching – sad, but touching.’
‘Maybe, but the thing is, it’s not much fun living by yourself. I don’t think it suits him, and I didn’t like it when I first came up here.’
‘Yes, and it’s probably not as easy to meet people when you get to his age; not that he’s that old, but you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, good job I found you in time to console me in my old age. Everyone has their uses.’
She kicked him under the table. ‘Yes, you have your uses
too. As I’m out at work tomorrow, and you’ve still got another day off, you can do some cleaning – starting with the toilet and bathroom. They’ve not been done for a week. I’ve been too busy going over to Ripon nearly every day.’
‘Whoa! I’ve only just come back; I was going to have a lie-in.’
‘What for? You’ve been on leave. And after that, get online and see if you can find some good holiday deals: somewhere nice and hot for later in August. It would be nice to get away, assuming we’ve finished on this case by then. I don’t think the boss will like me going away until we have.’
‘OK. I suppose it’s easier than trying to solve the locked-room case, or whatever you call it.’
‘The Locked-Room Mystery, as the boss says. And yes, I’m afraid it’s still very mysterious, but we’ll get there. Anyway, come on – it’s getting late. No time for any pudding.’
Andy pulled a face, but they paid the bill and walked slowly back to their flat through the lively late-evening streets of Leeds, holding hands all the way.
Seven
While Steph and Andy were enjoying being together again, Ian Barden was feeling pleased with the way his own unofficial investigations were going. It was starting to look as if he could make money out of someone, and also the police would be pleased when he finally told them what he knew. He would be a hero. It was all clear in his mind and it made him feel excited.
The estate had been shut for several hours, but he was still at work in his engine shed as the light faded behind the magnificent copper beeches that towered over the gardens. He often stayed behind doing extra work to maintain his beloved locomotives.