Melody of Murder

by Stella Cameron

  This wasn’t going to help. She didn’t blame Tony for trying but now they should drop the subject.

  ‘Who could it have been?’ Elyan said, composed again, and screwing up his eyes as he thought. ‘Oh, god! It’s what we were afraid of. The police think Laura was murdered. You told them about the man … but … did you tell them you thought it was me?’ He didn’t seem panicky, just intensely involved.

  ‘No. I haven’t told them about it at all. I’m not sure why except all I got was an impression, something I thought I saw, and I’m not risking what they might do with that.’

  ‘What would some bottle have to do with anything, anyway?’ Annie asked. ‘Laura always had something to drink with her when she sang. Her throat got dry.’

  The front door handle rattled before someone pounded with their knuckles.

  ‘Who is it?’ Annie said, and she looked frightened. ‘They’re angry. I can tell. Is it the police?’

  ‘Mary or Harriet will take a look from upstairs. They’ll tell us if we should open the door.’ Tony got up and went to the foot of the staircase.

  The walls and doors in these old buildings were thick. A man’s raised voice said something and a window slammed shut.

  ‘There’s a man outside for Elyan,’ Harriet called down the stairs. ‘Let him in if you want him in.’

  The downstairs listeners all smiled a little.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Tony asked Elyan.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’

  ‘Open the door. Looks suspicious otherwise.’

  Annie murmured, ‘Yes.’ She was winding a long chestnut curl around and around in her fingers.

  ‘Right you are,’ Tony said and went quickly to unlock the door. ‘Come in, come in, whoever you are,’ he said with forced jollity.

  He came close to getting walloped by the ferocity of the opening door. The slim man who marched in, fairly trembling with wrath, looked ready for a fight.

  ‘You’d better have a good explanation for this, Elyan. You knew the police were coming so you ducked out.’ He spoke as if the pianist were the only one there. ‘You’d better come with me so we can talk. Annie can bring your car.’

  ‘Sebastian, we’ll be back shortly,’ Elyan said. Rather than nervous, he appeared angry. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  Instead of answering, Sebastian trained his eyes on Alex. ‘You again. Always around when there’s trouble. I don’t think I can be the only one who’s noticed.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Behind drystone walls along the line of cottage gardens on Pond Street, flowers mounded between clumps of perennial plants showing off their new foliage.

  Even at mid-afternoon, the night-scented stocks began to breathe their heady scent. Tony and Alex had walked determinedly away from Leaves of Comfort, leaving Elyan and Annie to decide on their next moves. The very abrasive Sebastian Carstens flounced theatrically from the tearoom and by the time Tony and Alex got outside he was nowhere in sight.

  ‘He’s a horrible man,’ Tony said. ‘Autocratic, arrogant, rude.’

  ‘Scared?’ Alex looked sideways at him, at the way he crinkled his eyes in thought.

  ‘Does he strike you like that?’ he asked. ‘Why would he be scared? Is there anything to point to him having something to do with Laura’s death?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that at all. I think his perfect world has been shaken up and he’s not coping. Did you watch Elyan when Sebastian ordered him around?’

  Tony thought about it. ‘Not really.’

  ‘He was angry, but there was surprise mixed in, and some hurt. Those two must be pretty close. From what I got earlier, they’ve worked together as teacher and pupil, very closely, for years. If I had to guess I’d say Sebastian’s behavior was out of character.’

  A cottage at the end of the row, it’s door painted duck-egg blue, sported a veritable hedge of hollyhocks, their flashy blooms waving to and fro along stalks taller than Tony. They made Alex smile. ‘I’m going to put hollyhocks in my gardens next year. I want more of a typical country look. It’s all lawn and tidy beds. Boring.’

  Tony put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. ‘I’ll have starts in the greenhouse. I’ll bring some down and plant them for you.’ They lived less than ten minutes apart.

  Alex slipped her hand behind his back and held onto his sweater. ‘Are you happy, Tony?’

  His expression was close to stricken. He didn’t immediately answer, then said, ‘Yes. I’ve got good things in my life. Mainly you.’

  She smiled at him and butted her head into his chest. ‘Could be we’ll have enough time without trouble one of these days, and really churn over what it all means – what it’s meant to mean.’

  ‘I hope that’s soon.’

  She wasn’t so afraid to get onto this topic now. ‘The sex is great,’ she said and immediately rolled toward him to hide her burning face.

  Tony rubbed her back and shook her a little to make her look up. ‘Ditto. But you don’t know what it means to me to hear you say it. Are we finally relaxing with each other?’

  ‘Sometimes my mouth runs away with me,’ she muttered. ‘I’m so honest, I embarrass myself.’

  ‘Good!’ He gave her a strong hug. ‘Interference incoming, though. Do you recognize this pair?’

  Walking from the direction of the Black Dog came an elegant woman of upper middle age, gray hair styled in a sleek bob and a red-haired man with his hands in his trouser pockets. Even at a distance his clothing shrieked of studied affectedness. As the couple drew closer, his fashionable wrinkled linen jacket, linen shirt a shade darker camel and pleated trousers didn’t disappoint. Nor did his amazing orange suede lace-up shoes with a layer of red incorporated into the soles. The woman was impeccable in a lightweight tweed skirt and print blouse, distinctly Liberty of London paisley. She was slender right down to her narrow ankles and sensible, expensive shoes. She was also completely out of place with her much younger companion.

  ‘They aren’t more of the Green Friday …?’ Tony let his quiet question fade away.

  ‘They might be,’ Alex said. ‘They look a bit like Eskimos in Biarritz, don’t you think? Must have been beamed in by mistake.’ She shut her mouth firmly. Sniping at incomers wasn’t her usual style.

  The man tossed his center-parted hair and flashed a truly wonderful smile. ‘Would you know, er …?’

  ‘Elyan Quillam,’ the woman finished for him. ‘We tried the pub and someone said they were there but left. The barman thought they could have come this way. But forgive us. Why should you know him?’

  ‘We do,’ Tony said promptly. ‘This is Alex Duggins who owns that pub. I’m the local veterinarian, Tony Harrison.’

  That got mute nods which irritated Alex. ‘Did we miss your names?’ She turned up the corners of her mouth.

  ‘If I had a hat, I’d sweep it off,’ said the man, with a flourishing bow. ‘Wells Giglio, theatrical agent specializing in the fine arts. Classical musicians, to be precise. I represent Elyan Quillam …’ He paused waiting for … who knew? ‘Elyan is my primary client – as well as a close friend.’

  He made no attempt to introduce the woman who raised an arched and knowing brow and said, ‘Maud Meeker. Housekeeper and general dogsbody to the Quillam family.’

  Wells covered his mouth and sputtered, ‘Dogsbody? That’s rich. You run them and their homes. Seriously, people, Mrs M. has been keeping an extraordinary household in line since forever. I think she was at the signing of the Magna Carta, and Henry VIII’s marriage to Anne Boleyn.’

  ‘I did miss Boleyn’s beheading.’ Deadpan, Maud Meeker didn’t look either amused or not amused. ‘I’ve been with them since Percy Quillam married his first wife. Before that, I was already with her – Audrey, that is. Is that enough personal information? Really, Wells, you do go on.’

  ‘Sorry if I offend, old thing.’

  ‘You’re looking for Elyan,’ Alex said, much entertained by the sideshow but becomin
g sorry for Mrs Meeker. ‘Last I heard, he and Annie were going home.’

  With eyes suddenly open to popping and a finger rudely pointed, Wells said, ‘The woman. You’re the woman, aren’t you? Alex something.’

  She didn’t respond and also didn’t like the way Tony stiffened beside her.

  ‘You poor thing,’ Mrs Meeker said. In what might have been the most impulsive action of her life, she touched Alex’s arm with green leather-clad fingers. She put the flattened fingers of her other hand to her brow. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that. Laura was my little chum from when she was born. I can’t tell you how all this has shocked me. She seemed to be doing so well.’

  ‘Sebastian said you’re like this with the detectives on the case.’ Wells held up a hand with two fingers curled around each other. ‘Old friends. What have they told you? I mean, they may be spilling the beans to Percy and Sonia right now, as we speak, but can you tell us what killed my darling Laura?’

  My darling Laura? ‘They aren’t revealing that,’ Alex said. ‘Or they haven’t told me.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Tony said in a vaguely menacing tone Alex had heard before – and recognized as dangerous. ‘They’ll get to you with the questioning. You’ll have your own chance to see what you can get out of them. It’s bound to be public knowledge shortly, anyway. The press will see to that.’

  ‘There they are!’ Wells jumped up and down waving, then took off, loping along the pavement.

  Annie and Elyan were leaving the garden in front of Leaves of Comfort.

  Maud Meeker’s head was bowed. ‘You’re sure the police didn’t give any information?’ she asked quietly and when they both shook their heads, she added, ‘Wells would have liked to get close to Laura but she wasn’t interested. She was never his “darling girl”. It no longer matters who she might have cared for. It’s all pointless now. I wonder, could I call a taxi from the pub? I have my mobile but I expect you have a good taxi firm you use.’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘Let me run you where you need to go, Mrs Meeker,’ Tony said. ‘You’re going back to work, Alex?’

  She nodded, yes.

  ‘I couldn’t put you out.’

  Tony smiled at Mrs Meeker. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Green Friday – that’s where we’re living. I find I’m a little weary.’

  ‘I’ll take you. No bother. I’ve got to get to my clinic and it’s in the same general direction.’

  Separated by miles. Alex wondered what questions he intended to ask the poor woman. ‘See you, then, Tony.’

  ‘When are you going home? I noticed you don’t have your Range Rover.’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’ And she wanted to keep her options open. ‘I’ll call you this evening.’

  This secretiveness over the cause of Laura’s death rubbed at her. She intended to see if she could trick any lips loose.

  Major Stroud had been propping up the bar for too many hours. He held his drink well enough but everyone had limits. He took a healthy swig of whisky and rolled his lips inward beneath his grey brush of a mustache. The mottling of purplish veins on his nose and cheeks glowed like trickles of hot lava.

  ‘Do I cut him off?’ Hugh whispered to Alex.

  She considered the older man who swayed but only slightly and talked under his breath. He was, she knew, lonely and disappointed but she still had to do the right thing.

  ‘Major, how is Mrs Stroud? Haven’t seen her in an age.’

  He squinted at her and said, perfectly clearly, ‘Venetia is jolly good, thanks. She’s got her plants and her ballet and all’s well with her world. Not that you give a damn.’

  ‘Whoa,’ she retorted. ‘That doesn’t sound like your usual charming self.’

  ‘If you don’t like it, you can lump it, my girl. What I want to know is how you come to be involved in every filthy thing that happens around here and I seem to be the only one who notices?’

  ‘Time to go home, Major,’ Hugh said promptly. ‘I’ll arrange a lift for you.’

  ‘You’ll do no such bloody thing, you jumped-up scum.’

  ‘Did you drive?’ Alex asked shortly.

  ‘’Course, I did and I’ll drive back again.’ His words became more slurred by the moment.

  She held out a hand, ‘Give me your keys, please.’

  He pointed a wavering finger at her. ‘You’re a troublemaker – or worse. You think you run this village. Own the pub. Gobs at the ready. I’ll bide my time, and time my moment for maximum damage.’

  Alex’s back did its old prickling act. All the way up into her hair and over her scalp, she felt tight.

  ‘I’ve already got someone lined up who’ll use the information I’ve got on you.’

  ‘That’s it.’ Hugh lifted the flap in the counter and reached Stroud in a couple of strides. ‘Let’s get out into the fresh air, sir. And I’ll have those keys one way or the other.’

  He marched Major Stroud out of the building and the interested eyes turned in Alex’s direction quickly darted elsewhere. The volume of talk rose at once.

  Lily was quick to reassure her that Stroud was all bluster, as did Liz Hadley. Liz was a long-time employee who filled in frequently and was a trusted member of the crew. Alex just wanted to take Bogie and go home. She was grateful the Burke sisters had already left.

  In forty minutes or so, Hugh was back and brushing off the incident. ‘He’s still suffering because of Harry.’ Harry was the major’s supposed financial wizard of a son but had shown his family up pretty badly through some of his dealings.

  Alex thought about what Hugh said and nodded. ‘You’re right. I’m going to leave you to it now. I need a quiet night at home.’ His quizzical expression made her fear he was troubled himself. She and Tony were no closer to working out what to make of Hugh’s conversation with Sonia Quillam. Alex had begun to wish she’d never heard them talking, even though it was a mistake that they had.

  She put on Bogie’s lead and went out through the inn to say goodnight to Lily who was already back at her post there.

  When she stepped through the door, misty rain met her but it was light and she didn’t bother to put up her hood.

  Once in the car park behind the pub she glanced around and remembered she didn’t have the Range Rover. All the fuss with Stroud had stopped her from thinking about whether or not she was really – as had been her intention since that morning – going to ride home.

  Pedaling uphill would be a bit of a push for her but she used to ride that hill often enough as a girl.

  She wasn’t going to ask anyone to take her home. Bogie plopped happily into the bike basket, eyes forward even in the failing light, and she clipped the restraining hook onto his harness, took her helmet from the handlebars and plunked it on her head.

  Riding out to the road she felt excited by the wind on her face and the flowery, earthy scents that came with it. She was getting very sure of herself on the bike. One of these days she’d give it a name – like Flash, or Trigger, or Samantha (when it didn’t behave), shortened to Sam the rest of the time.

  And I’m losing it …

  Oh, this was jammy. She’d always had a lot of strength in her legs and it took little time for her to start climbing the hill. The pewter sky, the dark trees rising from gullies and the whine of wind through branches were a powerful boost to her muscles – and her confidence.

  She could see Bogie’s ears flapping and imagine his doggy smile.

  Ten more minutes and the going got harder. Alex stood on the pedals and pumped more slowly. When you usually drove, you forgot the dips and rises in the road. But over the next rise there was a fairly long dip. She’d whizz down that to pick up speed and conquer the next grade upwards like a champion.

  As expected, once she had labored to the crest, the faint marking at the side of the road dropped down and soon she shot between thicker woods. The misty rain turned to sparser, heavier drops and spattered her face. Alex laughed and caught the water on her tong
ue.

  She almost expected Bogie to whoop.

  An engine sounded behind her, a smooth, powerful one that would take all this as if it was a gentle slope. Her lights were on front and back, and her reflectors had been replaced with spanking new ones. In a mad moment she’d considered streamers for the ends of the handlebar grips and a jaunty flagpole. Decorum had prevailed.

  The vehicle grew closer and would flash by soon enough. Alex rode as near the edge as was safe.

  One of the multitude of Range Rovers around here drew level for an instant. In the gathering darkness it could be green or dark blue. It could be Tony’s.

  She looked toward the driver and felt the bike bump and tip. The left handlebar bounced out of her hand but she grabbed it again.

  The wheels slid sideways. The whole bike slid sideways while Alex felt herself fall toward the road. Juddering wildly she squeezed the brakes, at the same time knowing she would only make things worse that way.

  ‘Bogie,’ she yelled. ‘It’s all right, boy.’

  It was not all right. It was all wrong.

  Still on the bike, she hit the ground and continued bumping downhill toward the trees.

  She started to scream, but shouted, ‘Help!’ instead. Everything she did was useless. Beneath her body she felt slime. It made no sense and there must be stones embedded and waiting to pound her.

  A single tree, too tall for her to know what it was, loomed, separate from the rest and with a great trunk designed for bone crushing – if she hit it, her bones would crush and so would poor little Bogie’s.

  A jolt, and the bike swung around on its side, the back wheel pointing downhill. The front wheel had slammed into that craggy tree trunk and stopped the slide.

  Alex closed her eyes and lay still, waiting for pain. Falling was becoming a habit. But her helmet was still squarely buckled under her chin and as she started to move, apart from soreness here and there, no sharp agony suggested broken bones.