by Amy Myers
‘Almost too eager to talk, wouldn’t you think?’ he had commented.
She had not been sure. ‘Something odd certainly,’ she agreed. She had put that down to the Tim factor, although that had not satisfied her either.
When Peter did not answer her, she asked again, ‘What is wrong?’
A shrug. ‘Nothing much.’
His tone of voice said enquire no further, so Georgia busied herself at the computer, then slipped away to the kitchen to consult her usual oracle. Margaret was preparing Peter’s lunch. ‘What’s up?’ she asked her.
‘Not for me to say, Georgia.’
‘Which means you want to.’
‘Elena’s been on the phone.’
Margaret had been Peter’s carer ever since Elena had left, and as she lived in Haden Shaw herself she had known them both for a very long time before that.
‘About her moving back to Kent?’
‘That I don’t know. But I can tell you she’s up to her old tricks again now. Stirring.’
This sounded worse than she had thought, and Georgia returned to the office with foreboding.
‘I suppose she told you,’ Peter grunted, without even looking up.
‘Only that Elena called. Has she found a house?’
‘No. She’s found that survivor.’
Georgia’s heart dropped. She’d been counting on that issue quietly vanishing. ‘Who is it?’
‘A Frenchman called Lucien Marques. He lives in Turkey.’
That sounded a safe distance away, Georgia thought with relief. Then Peter added, ‘He comes to London frequently for business reasons,’ and the problem moved a whole lot closer. ‘We can’t have that hanging over us, Georgia,’ he continued. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘If he’s in London, I suppose we can’t not see him.’ She wished she had the strength to say they could, but it seemed unavoidable. There would always be a question mark if they did nothing. ‘Is he going to add anything to what we already know?’
‘Probably not, but if we don’t see him, we never will know.’
‘Has Elena met him?’ Georgia asked.
‘No. She says we should all go together.’
‘Then to paraphrase Macbeth, if it has to be done, let’s do it quickly. We’ll tell Elena – I’ll ring her if you like – that as soon as he announces his arrival we’ll make a date.’
‘I’ll ring her myself,’ her father said.
‘Visitor,’ Georgia called to Luke. She could see an unfamiliar blue Toyota drawing up, and being a Monday and thus a working day whoever its driver was must probably want to see him and not her. True it was late afternoon, which was why Luke was in the house and not in his office, but even so the likelihood was that Luke was in the firing line.
Luke obediently went to greet the new arrival but was quickly back. ‘For you,’ he said, popping his head round the door and then holding it open.
It was Jennifer Fettis, and Georgia rose in alarm at how distraught she looked. Luke must have deemed this something that Georgia would cope with better alone.
‘I thought I’d come on the off-chance . . . hope you don’t mind.’ Jennifer’s words stumbled out. ‘I just want to talk, and my friends would think I was mad.’
‘Talk away,’ Georgia said. ‘Shall I get you some tea? Cake? That can help a bit when one’s upset.’
Jennifer nodded gratefully, and when Georgia returned she looked more composed.
‘Basically, it’s about Tim,’ she began. ‘Dad thinks he’s the best thing since buttered toast.’
This sounded serious to Georgia. ‘And you no longer do?’ Tread carefully, she thought. Don’t leap right in with ‘drop him immediately’.
‘I don’t know, Georgia.’
‘It’s the second of August. It’s only six weeks to the wedding. Don’t you think doubts are to be expected the nearer it gets?’ She watched Jennifer pace round the room, and then stop to look out at their garden.
‘Did you have doubts?’ Jennifer asked.
‘Not at this stage,’ Georgia answered, ‘but only because I got over mine earlier. I was lucky.’
‘I wish I was you,’ Jennifer said abruptly. ‘You don’t know how much I long for everything to be settled and to be content with no decisions to be made.’
Georgia took the bull by the horns. ‘Marriage often looks easy from the other side of the fence,’ she pointed out, ‘and some people find out too late that it isn’t.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ Jennifer threw herself down on the sofa.
‘Only you can decide whether they’re radical doubts or pre-wedding nerves. You’ve had a terrible time, dealing with your mother’s death, so it’s hardly surprising either way.’
‘How can I decide now?’
How far should she go in her reply? Georgia wondered. If she passed on her own opinion of Tim, would that be fair or unfair? Undoubtedly the latter. ‘For a start, did your mother like Tim?’ she began.
‘I think so. No help there.’
‘You’re sure about that? Parents can be quite good at hiding their personal views in such circumstances. Are you sure your father thinks he’s right for you?’
Jennifer grimaced. ‘Oh, he does. Dad’s so blinded by the image of Stourdens being great and glorious again and of himself as its gracious host that he’d like Machiavelli if he was in charge of making it happen.’
An interesting choice for a comparison, Georgia thought, where Tim was concerned. ‘All right, let’s get basic: do you love Tim?’
‘Yes. That’s the trouble,’ Jennifer said forlornly.
‘Understand him?’
‘No.’
Problem, Georgia thought. No one in the throes of love could fully understand the beloved, but for Jennifer to admit she didn’t was significant. She would have to tread carefully.
‘Is sex a problem?’
‘No way.’ Jennifer managed a grin. ‘And if you’re thinking that’s the only reason I love Tim, it’s not true. You can’t define what makes love, but it’s more than that.’
‘Charm?’ Georgia prompted.
‘No,’ Jennifer said dismissively. ‘It’s more a sense that without me he’d be a bit lost. I know that sounds daft, because he seems the one who’s in charge. It’s true, but he needs direction.’
Time to step in further, Georgia decided. ‘Peter and I met his mother and stepfather last week. Have you ever met his real father?’
Jennifer sat bolt upright. ‘Max Tanner? No, but I knew about him. Tim told me when Mum died. He said he’d been nervous about doing so earlier, but goodness knows why. I don’t believe in the sins of the fathers and all that. I can’t believe we’re programmed to be exactly what our parents were without an X-factor included.’
Georgia’s heart sank. Wouldn’t the natural thing be for Tim to have told her when he first knew she lived at Stourdens? Perhaps not. She wrestled with her impulse to tell Jennifer what had happened in the tunnel: the menace, the implied threat, and Tim’s obvious need for complete control. But she restrained herself.
‘You sound still very committed to him,’ she said. ‘So what do you want from me?’
‘Advice.’
Georgia blenched. ‘I can’t give it, Jennifer. I’d love to, but it’s not fair to ask me. All I can suggest is that you postpone the wedding until you’re more confident than you are now.’
‘But I might never be. I’ve already decided to postpone, in fact. I’ll probably call it off altogether in due course.’
Georgia stared in amazement at her. ‘Then what on earth do you need advice on?’
‘Tim’s part in Stourdens.’
Georgia whistled. ‘That’s quite a tall order. Does Tim know the wedding’s off for September?’
‘I told him yesterday. I thought he was going to explode at first, and then he – and Dad, when he found out – told me that I wasn’t in my right mind because of Mum. All I needed was time so it was agreed the wedding be postponed until the sp
ring.’
‘Are you happy with that?’
‘For the time being, though I don’t think it will change anything. Tim will still be the same man, and the same circumstances will still apply.’
‘Which are?’
‘Complicated. You probably know Mum owned Stourdens. In her will my mother set up a trust to look after its future and put most of what money she had into it. The beneficiaries are Dad and myself, and a trustee to see fair play and make decisions.’
‘Your solicitor?’
‘No, and not Tim either. It’s an old friend of Dad’s and Mum’s, Douglas Watts.’
‘And the trust includes the Jane Austen collection?’
Jennifer managed a smile. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head. For some reason she left that to me personally. Mum was in quite a state before the Gala and told me she was going to see her solicitors about her will, but I don’t know what she intended to do about it. I didn’t even know what was in it until after she died, and Dad was in too much of a daze to take it in.’
‘So the complication is?’
‘Tim.’
‘What’s his formal position at Stourdens? Is he working as a future family member or does he have a contract?’
‘No contract as far as I know. He’s still running his own PR business in Canterbury.’
That was one relief then, Georgia thought. ‘Jennifer, what would you do if there were no Tim to direct the Stourdens’ development? Would you follow what we’ve been told were your mother’s wishes not to commercialize Stourdens or would you carry on?’
Jennifer stared at her. ‘I’m not really sure. How stupid of me. I’m so used to the idea of Tim being in charge of everything.’
‘Think about it now.’
‘I suppose I’d have to consult Douglas Watts, the trustee, but my instinct would be to go ahead but much less fiercely, avoid commercialization on a big scale.’ She flushed with sudden excitement. ‘I wouldn’t go down any avenue that Mum wouldn’t have wanted. The development plans included turning the whole house over to Jane Austen, with fencing, dancing classes, cooking classes, that sort of thing. Maybe tourist accommodation too. But Stourdens needs to be lived in by a family, not a business. I’d definitely live in the house myself, but we could do the Jane Austen tours and talks, and perhaps the odd concert.’
‘Would you build on the Jane Austen-Harker love affair?’
‘Why not? And . . .’ Her lips briefly trembled. ‘There are the gardens, of course. Mum loved Abbot’s Retreat, and I couldn’t face that for a while, but eventually I may. But there’s the folly and even the tunnel that we could use in the tours. We could link up with the other Jane Austen houses, perhaps. Godmersham, Goodnestone and Godinton, all opening at the same time with transport between them. And there would still be plenty of ways to use Barbara’s services. I couldn’t let her down.’ Her face fell. ‘But there’s still Tim to consider.’
‘Discuss it with him. Does he get on well with this Douglas Watts?’
‘As far as I know. Neither of them knows about the will leaving the collection to me, and I’m going to keep the situation to myself for a while longer. I can’t help wondering why Mum changed her mind so adamantly over the whole idea of development. She’d gone along with Tim and Dad quite happily, although they disagreed initially over the role of Stourdens itself. She gave way eventually when Dad said they could live in the Dower House – it’s rented out at present. Mum liked that house so we thought all was settled. So why, according to Dora, did it all change so suddenly?’
‘What did she tell you about that?’ Georgia asked cautiously.
Jennifer flushed. ‘Tim would be furious if he knew I was talking about this. She told me that morning that she wouldn’t be making the announcement about Stourdens’ future, but not that she had changed her mind about the plans. She said she’d explain later in the day when we had more time. Because she wasn’t feeling too good she asked me to take supervision of the catering tents in her place. She was going to stay indoors and would tell Tim and Dad about the announcement, and I think she said Phil and Jake too, since they might be affected if she didn’t appear at four o’clock. As would Barbara and Craig. I returned from the catering tents just as she’d finished telling them, I think, because everyone seemed in a bit of a state. Then, of course, Dora turned up with you and Tim and I took you all to the folly. After that I was back in the tents and I only saw her at brief intervals if I had to dash back into the house for something. Now I know, thanks to Dora, that it was more than just not appearing at four and that Dora was right. Mum had changed her mind. Tim and Dad convinced themselves that she was simply blowing hot and cold, but it was much more than that.’
‘Something must have sparked off such a complete volte face. You’ve no idea what?’
‘I’ve been going over it and over it in my mind, but all that was unusual that week was that Amelia Luckhurst had come over on the Wednesday. I work in Canterbury so I didn’t see her, but when I got home that night Mum seemed preoccupied. When I returned on the Friday though, she really did look ill, just as she did on Saturday. It was then she mentioned her will. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she was just tired. She had been in Canterbury herself and had some thinking to do. I asked her whereabouts in Canterbury, but she just said nowhere special.’
‘Did she keep an appointment book?’ Georgia tried not to sound too eager, an image of Mike Gilroy’s frowning face before her. This was his case, she tutored herself, not Marsh and Daughter’s.
‘Only the computer, and the police have that.’
Georgia tried another tack. ‘You said she talked to you briefly on the Saturday morning. Was it about Stourdens or the Austen collection?’
‘No,’ Jennifer replied. ‘I asked her if Dad or Tim could make the announcement for her as she was ill, but she suddenly turned on me, looking almost manic. Then just as quickly she relaxed again. “No,” she said. “They can’t.” I was too stunned to ask questions.’
‘Is that why you were looking scared when you were all talking on the terrace on the morning of the Gala?’
‘Scared?’ Jennifer looked at her with startled eyes. ‘I suppose it must have been . . . no. It was Tim. He was acting so strangely. I was scared of Tim.’
Amelia Luckhurst – everything seemed to come back to her, Georgia reflected. She had visited Laura before the Gala, and shortly afterwards Laura had changed her mind about the future of the house. Twenty-four years earlier Amelia had reason to kill her husband because he was standing in the way of her developing Stourdens. She had not mentioned the tunnel to Laura or to Marsh & Daughter. She had been at the Gala and made a speedy escape after Laura’s death. What did it all add up to? Coincidence?
Georgia reached the office the next morning eager to tell Peter the relevant parts of her conversation with Jennifer, but this was brushed aside.
‘Bad news,’ he said without preamble. ‘I’ve had a call from Mike. He thought we should know.’
‘Know what?’ Her mouth felt dry.
‘Amelia Luckhurst has been found dead. Murdered.’
ELEVEN
‘Acmelia’s husband John had been out yesterday and came back to find her dead,’ Peter told Georgia gravely. ‘Shot. It wasn’t suicide, no gun, but no news on whether it could be the same one that killed Laura.’
A wave of nausea welled up inside Georgia as Peter’s news became graphically real. She had not taken to Amelia, but her unexpected and terrible death was ominous as well as horrifying. ‘One coincidence too far,’ she managed to say.
‘Mike agrees and so do I. The Met is handling Amelia’s death of course, but Diane Newton is in touch with them. On the face of it Mike doesn’t see how this could link with Laura’s murder or with Bob Luckhurst’s. But he agreed that there’s “no harm”, as he put it, in our poking our noses in if we don’t tread on any toes. Ignore the mixed metaphor. We might add a few unconsidered trifles to their case. I have a feeling that there are
a few left lying around that are beginning to stink. Agree?’
‘I do, but how do we poke tactfully?’
‘It’s possible John Collier would talk to us.’
‘He’ll be overwhelmed at present,’ she said doubtfully. ‘Besides, how could he help? There’s never been any suggestion he was around at the time of Bob’s death.’
‘He might know something about her visit to Laura.’
‘Any chance that Amelia’s death was coincidence though?’ Georgia asked. ‘Were there any signs of a break-in?’
‘None, which means she was either killed by someone who forced themselves in when she opened the door, or she knew her killer. Probably the latter, as the coffee table was set with two places. So far no takers for the guest.’
‘No one seen calling? Strange cars, delivery vans, and so on?’
‘Give me a chance,’ Peter said. ‘Mike’s only just heard the news himself. Time of death is estimated at between ten and twelve o’clock yesterday. The time when people have gone to work, taken the children to school, popped into the supermarket and are busy about their own affairs.’
‘And not peeping through the lace curtains. Pity,’ Georgia remarked.
‘Any peeping is more likely at TV now rather than through windows. Anyway, Diane Newton rang later to say she’s willing for him to talk to you and he’s agreed to see you next week. It’s fixed for eleven on Tuesday morning. Does that suit you?’
‘It does.’
‘Good, because in return for any snippets you might turn up, Newton might get more interested in Bob Luckhurst.’
By agreement with Peter, Georgia had come without him to see John Collier in order not to overwhelm him at a bad time. The door was opened by a woman in her thirties, who introduced herself as Julia, John’s daughter by his first marriage. Georgia did her best to look non-threatening, and Julia must have been convinced because to her relief she made no suggestion that she should sit in on the conversation. John Collier rose to meet her, looking somewhat dazed, but he seemed eager to talk. He must be in his seventies, she guessed, and probably extremely sharp in normal circumstances.