by Agatha Frost
“I was sure that was unrelated until this morning,” Barker said after taking his last mouthful of soup. “The autopsy came back and the coroner said there was a wound so severe on Charles’ head that it was very likely he was dead before he was even thrown out of the window.”
Julia finished the last of her pâté, but she didn’t say anything. Barker looked at her, confused for a moment, before rolling his eyes and smiling.
“But you already knew that, right?” Barker asked.
“Didn’t it strike you as odd that Charles was completely silent as he fell from the window?” Julia asked. “Have you ever heard of somebody silently falling to their death? Whatever was taken, I’m sure it was heavy enough to kill a man.”
“Katie and your father are saying they can’t remember what was there,” Barker said with a sigh as he leaned back in his chair and glanced around the restaurant. “I don’t believe it for a second.”
“It is possible they don’t remember,” Julia offered, unsure if she believed her own words. “It’s a big house.”
“The one person who would know can’t even speak. I tried to interview Vincent, but I got nothing.”
Before Julia could tell him there was one person in the manor that would know what had been taken, Mary appeared to take away their plates. Instead of shuffling straight away, she lingered for a moment.
“Are you still selling that shortbread of yours?” Mary asked Julia, her eyes closing as she licked her lips. “My Todd is Scottish and he said you make it better than any Scot he’s met. Simply divine.”
“It’s still there,” Julia said. “I’ll bring you some up soon.”
“You’re such a sweet girl,” Mary gushed, turning to Barker. “You’ve got yourself a good one here, Detective.”
Barker smiled and blushed again, but he didn’t say anything. When Mary finally left them alone, it seemed both of them had forgotten what they were talking about.
“So,” Barker said, exhaling heavily. “Any men in Peridale I should watch out for slashing my tyres after they find out I’ve taken you on a date?”
Julia nervously laughed, her lips wobbling but unable to speak. She glanced around the alcove, hoping Mary was on her way back to cause further distraction, but she wasn’t. Julia turned back to Barker, who was looking at her expectantly. Just when she was about to spill the beans about her estranged husband, Barker’s phone rang loudly in his pocket.
“Bloody hell,” Barker cried as he fumbled for his phone. “I told them not to call me. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Julia said, relieved and grateful for the timing. “It could be important.”
Barker excused himself and walked across the restaurant, only answering the phone when he was out of earshot from Julia. She watched as he paced up and down the empty restaurant, ducking out of the way of the low beams as he went. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how handsome he looked in his dinner suit.
“That was work,” Barker said, his voice grave and his eyes so wide, Julia knew what was coming. “There’s been a break-in at Peridale Manor. I’m going to have to go.”
“I’m coming with you,” Julia said before tossing back the rest of her wine and standing up. “And don’t argue, Detective. I’m technically family so you can’t stop me. If you don’t take me with you, I’ll call a taxi.”
For a moment Julia thought Barker might protest and insist that she stay and eat her dinner, or go home, but he didn’t. He sighed, and turned on his heels to head straight for the door. At that moment, Mary pushed through a door holding spaghetti carbonara in one hand and Peridale Pie in the other.
“We’re going to have to go,” Barker said apologetically, pulling a red fifty-pound note out of his wallet. “Keep the change.”
Julia apologised as she passed Mary. Even the smell of her favourite dish at The Comfy Corner didn’t tempt her to stay. She heard Mary mumble something about ‘young love’ as she headed back into the kitchen.
The drive up to Peridale Manor was a silent one. When they pulled up outside, there was already a police car on the scene. They both jumped out of the car the second Barker put his handbrake in place.
The front door was open, and Katie, Brian and two officers were talking in the grand entrance. Katie was hysterically chattering in a luminous pink nightie while Brian held her, and the two young officers attempted to write down what she was saying.
“Julia?” Brian mumbled, his forehead furrowing. “What are you doing here?”
“I was with Detective Inspector Brown,” she said. “There was no time to take me home.”
Her father nodded, seeming to accept this without question. His pale face and blank expression didn’t go unnoticed. It was the same face Julia had seen at the garden party after discovering Charles’ body. Was it the face of a man who knew he was holding onto a guilty woman?
“Mrs. Wellington,” Barker said, stepping in front of the two bemused officers. “I’m going to need you to calm down and tell me what exactly happened here tonight.”
“Wellington-South,” she bumbled through her tears. “There was a man. A man upstairs!”
“A man?” Barker asked, glancing suspiciously to Julia. “Can you be more specific?”
“A masked man upstairs,” Katie said angrily through her sobs. “I was c-c-coming out of the bathroom and I saw a masked m-m-man all dressed in black. I screamed, and he ran away.”
Barker looked even more suspiciously to Julia out of the corner of his eye. It was obvious he didn’t believe her. Julia wasn’t sure if she did either. The description of a masked burglar almost seemed cartoonish.
“And did anyone else see this masked man?” Barker asked, turning to roll his eyes at the officers. “Anyone to corroborate your story?”
“Story?” Katie shrieked, her voice echoing in every corner of the manor. “It’s not a story, it’s the truth!”
“Did you see this man?” Barker asked, turning his attention to Julia’s father.
Brian awkwardly looked down at his hysterical wife, but he shook his head. Julia noticed his grip on her loosen.
“Was anything taken?” Barker asked, pinching between his brows.
“Well – no,” Katie said. “I don’t think so. I think I scared him off.”
“And this burglar was alone? They didn’t put up a fight?”
“They just ran down the stairs and out of the front door.”
Barker audibly sighed, clearly frustrated with Katie. Julia knew exactly what he was thinking without needing to ask; she was thinking it too. It wasn’t common for burglars to act alone, especially in such big houses, and she also knew they didn’t tend to be unarmed or scared of a shrieking woman in her silk nightie.
Barker turned and started whispering with the two officers while Katie buried her mascara-streaked face in her husband’s chest. Brian didn’t put his arms around her, instead just staring into space. Julia realised nobody was paying her any attention, so she slipped away unseen and practically sprinted up the staircase.
Julia saw exactly what she wanted to see on the top step; the display plinth was no longer empty. A white marble bust was sitting on the display plinth. Just to be sure, she pulled her phone out of her handbag to check the picture she had taken on the day of the murder.
“Detective Inspector,” Julia called over her shoulder as she took a second photograph of the plinth. “You might want to come and see this.”
Barker and the two officers ran up the staircase, joining her in front of the bust.
“Look,” Julia showed Barker the image of the missing marble bust on her phone, then she flicked to the one she had just taken in the exact same position. “Earl Philip Wellington. Born 1798, died 1865.”
Katie and Brian joined them in the crowded hallway and they all stared at the bust.
“That’s my great-great-great-great-grandfather,” Katie mumbled through her sobs. “He built this manor.”
“When I asked you what had been taken from this plinth, you
claimed not to have remembered,” Barker said sternly, the vein in his temple throbbing brightly. “Tonight when you claim a man broke into your home, this bust is suspiciously returned. As you know from my phone call earlier this afternoon, your brother was potentially killed by a blow to the head with a heavy object.”
As Barker explained the situation to Katie, Julia leaned into the bust, detecting the unmistakable scent of heavy bleach. Whoever had returned the bust had made sure to clean it thoroughly first. She doubted even the best forensics team would be able to find a speck of blood or a fingerprint on the sterile marble.
“I just forgot,” Katie protested, looking to Brian, her unnaturally shaped brows dashing up her shiny forehead. “It’s a big house. You can’t prove anything! You can’t prove that bust was taken!”
“I have pictures,” Julia said, stepping forward with her phone in her hands.
Barker’s hand closed in around her arm and he pulled her back before she could turn the phone around. He leaned into her ear, his breath hot on her cheek.
“If anybody finds out I let you investigate a crime scene before I shut it down, I’ll be in deep trouble,” Barker whispered darkly.
Julia gritted her jaw as she looked down at the picture of the empty plinth on her phone. She was instantly offended that she wasn’t allowed to show what she had found for the sake of Barker not getting in trouble at the station, but she relented and stepped back, mumbling that she had made a mistake.
“See, you can’t prove it!” Katie said, grinning like a mad Cheshire cat. “You can’t prove the bust was taken. It’s your word against mine. We say it wasn’t taken. Don’t we, babe?”
Katie turned to Brian, who didn’t say a word. He gulped hard, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, trickling down the side of his deeply tanned and lined face.
“Babe?” Katie asked, less sure.
Julia might not have been her father’s biggest fan, but she didn’t like seeing him in such a moral dilemma. She stepped forward again as she dropped her phone back into her handbag.
“There’s one person who will be able to confirm if the bust was taken or not,” Julia said, wanting to take the heat away from her father.
“My father can’t even speak!” Katie cried. “The man had a stroke less than a month ago!”
Julia stepped to the side of Katie and looked straight down the dark hallway to the woman peeking through a door, and had been ever since Julia had called for Barker.
“Hilary?” Katie laughed, but her expression soon turned dark.
“Officer Galbraith, I want you to hold Katie in the kitchen,” Barker said, his voice professional and calm. “I have a witness to speak with.”
“You can’t do this!” Katie shrieked.
“Calm yourself Mrs. Wellington, or I’ll have you cuffed,” Barker ordered, his finger in the woman’s face.
“It’s Wellington-South,” she muttered, less confident this time. “Wellington-South.”
Julia’s father’s study was a dark room lined with bookshelves bursting with hefty hardback volumes. The room was windowless and claustrophobic, each book adding to the suffocation. As Hilary carefully walked across the room to the chair in front of the desk where Barker was sitting behind the dimly lit lamp, Julia knew why he had picked this room above any other.
Hilary sat in the chair in front of the desk, her posture composed, her lips pursed, and her wiry grey hair tightly scraped into a taut bun at the back. Even though Julia was standing at the back of the room, she could imagine Hilary’s darkly lined eyes bulging in the soft glow of the lamp.
“Hilary,” Barker started, leaning back in the chair and resting his fingers on his chest. “Do you have a last name, Hilary?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said firmly, her voice breathy but stern. “I haven’t done a thing wrong.”
“Nobody is saying you have,” Barker said, quickly leaning into the light. “Unless you want to tell me something?”
Julia held back laughter. She knew Barker was trying to scare Hilary into slipping up, but Julia found his interrogation techniques more comical than frightening. Hilary seemed to think the same because she busied herself with adjusting the hem of her skirt.
“Hilary Boyle,” the housekeeper said reluctantly. “What does any of this nasty business have to do with me? I’ve already told you I was in the kitchen at the time of the murder and I have a dozen waitresses and waiters to tell you the same. I saw the poor boy fall from the window from within the house.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Barker said, looking up at the ornate ceiling before looking right back at her, his eyes narrow and firm. “Did you know Charles well?”
“I’ve known that boy since the day he was born,” Hilary said, her voice not wavering. “I knew he was trouble from the first time I heard him cry.”
“And Katie?”
Hilary wavered for the first time. She shifted in her chair, glancing over her shoulder at Julia. Julia was still surprised Barker had let her sit in on the interview, but she was the only one he had allowed. She had promised not to say a word.
“She’s just as bad,” Hilary said softly. “If not worse. A rude, insolent child. If Mr Wellington hadn’t lost his tongue, he would tell you the same.”
“I gather you’ve been here for a long time?” Barker asked, his fingers drumming heavily on the desk. “Long enough to know the layout pretty well?”
“I know this house like the back of my hand,” Hilary said, pride loud and clear in her voice. “Like it’s a part of my own skin.”
“And you clean it quite regularly?”
“Every single day.”
“Dusting?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you dust, Mrs. Boyle?” Barker asked, leaning closer into the light, shadows dripping down his chiselled face. “Ornaments, for example?”
“Are you questioning my credentials as a cleaner, Detective?” Hilary asked harshly. “Because I assure you, I’m the best this village has to offer! And it’s Miss Boyle to you. I never married.”
“I apologise, Miss Boyle,” Barker said, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend, I just wanted to check you knew this house and its contents. Have you noticed anything go missing recently?”
Hilary shifted once again in her seat, telling them both exactly what they wanted to know. She glanced over her shoulder at Julia before looking down to continue adjusting the hem of her skirt.
“I assume you’re talking about the bust?” she asked. “I did wonder about that. It’s not my place to ask. I assumed the brat had sold it to try and cover some of the costs of her silly idea to turn this fine manor into a tacky spa. You hear whisperings if you listen hard enough, and the money isn’t flowing like it used to.”
“You didn’t think to mention this absent bust to the police?” Barker asked.
“Why would I?” Hilary snapped, clearly offended. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“That’s confidential, Miss Boyle,” Barker said firmly. “When was the last time you saw the bust?”
“Ten minutes ago when you dragged me from my room,” Hilary said, resting her hands on the table and matching Barker’s pose by leaning into the light. “I was just about to go to bed, you know. It’s silver polishing tomorrow, and I like to get it done before breakfast. I assume, however, that you’re asking when was the last time I saw the bust before I noticed it had gone missing. It was the morning of the garden party.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am sure,” Hilary cried, the offence louder in her voice than ever before. “Are you trying to insinuate that I am going senile? I’m as sharp as a knife and as bright as a bulb, I’ll have you know. That morning, Katie was being extra brat-like and she made me clean the entire house from top to bottom. I specifically remember because I forgot my marble polish and I had to run back downstairs to get it. Vincent – I mean – Mr. Wellington is very specific about cleaning things wit
h the right equipment. He is very proud of this manor and its history. Before I could even get back upstairs to clean it, Katie sent me out to the garden with lemonade for the builders, and it never got done.”
Having heard all he needed to, Barker thanked Hilary and stood up. He buttoned up his dinner jacket and headed straight for the door.
“You’re going to arrest her, aren’t you?” Julia asked.
Barker didn’t say a word. He opened the door and walked swiftly across the entrance hall to the kitchen. Hilary stood up and adjusted her skirt, gazing menacingly at Julia. Seconds later, Katie’s shrieks echoed throughout the manor, and Julia didn’t need to look to know the two officers were dragging her towards the front door.
When Katie’s cries grew more distant, Julia walked out of the study. First she saw Barker standing in the kitchen doorway talking quietly on his phone, then she saw her father standing at the top of the stairs, staring blankly down at the front door. He didn’t protest, or say anything to help his wife, he just stared as though he was as mute as Vincent. Even from her distance, Julia noticed a tear rolling down his cheek as he turned away.
“Whose side are you on, girl?” Hilary asked bitterly as she walked slowly past Julia shaking her head. “You kids have no sense of loyalty these days.”
Julia turned to Barker as he walked slowly across the hall towards her. He smiled uneasily at her, but she couldn’t smile back.
“We did it,” Barker said, letting out a relieved sigh. “How do you feel?”
“Not as pleased as I expected,” Julia admitted, looking to the spot her father had been standing as Hilary reached the top of the stairs. “It feels so unresolved.”
“The truth will come out,” Barker reassured her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Her alibi was the only one that didn’t check out. She was in the house at the time her brother was murdered, and she is the only person with such an obvious motive. I’m sure when forensics get their hands on the bust, they’re going to find her prints and his blood. I’m sorry this ruined our date.”