Lizzie wondered what the rest of the Villiers would make of that statement. It didn’t put them in a very good light! Then suddenly Simon Villiers appeared on the screen. He looked suitably mournful and spoke in a low voice. ‘The whole family is totally devastated,’ he said. ‘Jem was like a sister to me. None of us have any idea of why she should have been murdered.’ He paused, took out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. ‘If only she had accepted my offer of a lift back to Avon Hall on Thursday night. I saw her afterwards when she’d missed the bus which had been laid on for the students from Salisbury. She said she was going to stay overnight with some friends in Stibbington before going back to Salisbury the next morning, and didn’t want to come with me. I blame myself. I should have insisted.’
The camera then switched to the journalist who proceeded to give a potted history of the Villiers’ family, how they had been given land on the edge of the New Forest in 1782, and how philanthropic they were, and how everyone in the area held them in high esteem. Lizzie stopped listening and picking up the phone, rang Maguire.
‘Have you seen…?’
‘Yes, I damned well have,’ he interrupted. ‘Damn Simon Villiers. He’s kept out of our way all day today, said he was in London, then he pops up on the local news with this story about offering her a lift.’
‘Well, the offering a lift part might be true,’ Lizzie pointed out, ‘but from what I saw, I doubt that Jemima would have agreed to go anywhere with him. They were at daggers drawn during the evening.’
‘I’ll sort him out in the morning,’ said Adam grimly.
‘Right,’ said Lizzie and grinned at Adam’s tone of voice. Settling back down in bed, she noticed the top of the side cupboard by her bed was covered in dust. It reminded her she hadn’t done any housework for at least a fortnight, and really did need someone to come in and do it for her every now and then. Audrey Merryweather, Phineas’ wife, had suggested Hilda Thorne as a good reliable cleaner. She “did” for the Merryweathers and was looking to earn some extra money as she was hoping to go to Switzerland with Stibbington’s Women’s Institute later in the summer. Apparently, Wally, her husband, wouldn’t give her the money as he didn’t approve of gadding about in foreign places.
‘Do your bit for feminine emancipation,’ Audrey had said to Lizzie.
Now, she looked at the dust, and decided she would contact Hilda, although she doubted that housework really came under the heading of female emancipation!
*
On the Saturday morning Steve Grayson had an early call from Adam Maguire, before he’d even had time to take a shower. ‘We’re going to talk to Mr Simon Villiers this morning,’ Maguire told Steve as soon as he’d picked up the phone. ‘I want you to ring Avon Hall now and make an early appointment to speak to him. I mean you to speak to him and I do mean early, I don’t want him sloping off.’
‘OK, but won’t you be…?’
‘I shall be there,’ said Maguire, ‘eventually. But I don’t want him to know I’m going to be there. I’m sure he’s trying to avoid me. I think he’ll be there much more promptly if he thinks it’s just going to be Sergeant Steve Grayson’
‘Oh,’ said Steve, ‘I suppose you think that he thinks I’m not important enough to worry about!
‘No, it’s not that. I want him to feel relaxed,’ said Maguire. ‘And you are much better than me at putting people at ease.’
‘Oh,’ said Steve again, not entirely convinced by Maguire’s line of reasoning.
‘Just let me know the exact time you are meeting him, and then I’ll turn up about five minutes later, once you’ve got started.’
‘Right,’ said Steve. ‘I presume you want me to start off by asking where he was on Thursday night.’
‘Not only that. I want to know where he was all day Thursday and Friday,’ replied Maguire.
*
Steve arranged the meeting with Simon Villiers for eight o’clock prompt, in the living room of Avon Hall.
To his surprise Simon sounded remarkably business like on the phone and didn’t quibble about the time. He said that he would arrange for a pot of coffee to be available as it was so early, and Steve agreed that it would be very acceptable in view of the hour. At just before eight he drove up through the park leading through to the gardens and the house; the gates were already open, although the notice still proclaimed that the house and grounds were closed to the public. The large front door into Avon Hall was also open, guarded only by a couple of dogs. An elderly Red Setter, and a small Jack Russell; neither dog took the slightest bit of notice of him as he walked past them into the house.
‘Fine guard dogs you are,’ Steve said as he walked into the house.
He found the room easily by following the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The coffee, on a tray, had been placed on a small brass topped table, and two chairs had been placed either side of the table. Simon Villiers was sitting in a comfortable armchair, one side of the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. He waved Grayson towards the other chair. A heavily carved high backed wooden chair, which looked uncomfortable, and which Grayson soon found out was. An ornate carving of a bowl of fruit stuck out right into the middle of his back, and it was agony unless he sat bolt upright the whole time. Steve suspected that Simon had chosen that chair for him on purpose, to put him at a disadvantage.
‘Now,’ said Simon briskly once he’d given Steve a cup of coffee. ‘What do you want to know?’
There was nowhere to put his coffee, as he was just too far away to put it on the table. So after a moment’s hesitation, he put it on the floor. He was certain now that Simon Villiers was determined the interview should be conducted in the way he wanted; with him, the interviewer, at a disadvantage. However, I can fox you there, he thought, getting out a pen and notepad. Yes, he was right. He caught a small glimpse of satisfaction on Simon’s face as he noticed how difficult it was holding the notepad and pen while sitting on such an awkward chair. Steve let him have his little moment of triumph and then pulled out a tiny recorder from his side pocket. ‘You don’t mind, do you, sir?’ he asked. ‘So much more convenient than paper and pencil, and of course completely accurate.’
He could see that the man was immediately wrong footed, although he said, with a wave of his cigarette, ‘no, no, of course not. Whatever is most convenient for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Grayson, then paused and reaching down picked up his coffee and sipped it. ‘Delicious coffee.’ He purposely didn’t hurry in putting his cup back down on the floor, then said, ‘Now sir, I would like you to tell me everything you did on Thursday, starting from the morning.’
‘That’s easy. I spent the whole day over at the Country House Hotel, from about nine onwards. I wanted to make sure that my perfume was displayed appropriately. An enormous number of perfume sticks, plus small samples of the actual perfume had been ordered by the company Star Events. They had spent a lot of money, my money, and I wanted to make certain it wasn’t wasted. The couple organizing the event were both very young you know, and I wasn’t sure how much experience they’d had at doing this kind of promotion.’
‘You stayed there all day?’ asked Steve. ‘You didn’t nip back to Avon Hall, to get more cuttings of the actual roses?’
Adam walked into the library and startled both men. Simon, particularly, jumped out of his skin.
‘I didn’t know… I didn’t think that you’d…,’
‘Be here.’ Adam finished the sentence for him. ‘As I am leading the investigation into your cousin’s murder,’ he continued quietly, ‘of course I am here.’ He walked across to the other side of the room, picked up a small wooden chair, brought it back and placed it beside Grayson. It looked, noticed Steve, much more comfortable than the one he was perched on.
‘Did you?’ Adam repeated his question.
‘Did I what?’ blustered Simon.
‘Go back to pick more roses.’
‘I, er… well, I may have done. I was
so busy I can’t really remember every little detail.’
‘It would be useful if you could,’ said Maguire. ‘Every little detail counts when it’s a case of murder, and I need to know if there was anyone in the vicinity of the icehouse on that Thursday during the day.’
‘I wasn’t there,’ said Simon firmly. ‘Bert Grayer would be the best one to ask about that. He was in the garden all day. If anyone came in he’d have seen them.’
‘Not if he was working in the yard or in the other walled garden,’ said Steve, ‘and I seem to remember that he said that he was potting out lavender round the fountain in the first garden.’ There was a long pause, then he added, ‘we will check with Bert Grayer of course.’
‘You can’t believe everything the old man says,’ muttered Simon. ‘He’s getting old and forgetful.’
Maguire stood up, and crossing to the table poured himself a coffee. Steve knew he was playing for time. Sometimes the less said the better, because then the interviewee would feel obliged to fill the gap with words. As Simon did now. He stubbed out his cigarette with a sudden movement, and said, a defiant note to his voice, ‘well he is. Bert Grayer is an old man. I think he’s getting a bit senile. He can’t be expected to remember everything. Besides,’ there was another long pause, then he said bitterly, ‘he always favoured her. He thought the sun, moon and stars shone out of Jem’s eyes. He’d say anything to pin her murder on to someone.’
‘Even on to you?’ asked Maguire quietly.
Simon stood up suddenly; bumping against the coffee table so his cup and saucer went crashing to the floor. ‘How dare you say that! I didn’t murder my cousin. I loved her. We…I..’ He subsided back down into the armchair.
Steve felt sorry for him as he sat down again, completely deflated now. Gone was the arrogant young man. Perhaps Maguire felt sorry for him too, because he said very quietly, ‘I am not accusing you of anything. But you must see that you need to answer my questions with facts, not with wild accusations about Bert Grayer’s evidence, or state of mind.’
After that little episode, Simon calmed down. He told them that he’d been surprised to see both Jemima and Ruth serving as waitresses at the perfume launch. ‘They could have both been guests and enjoyed themselves,’ he said. ‘My mother came for a short time and seemed to enjoy it, although she left early; my father was there at the beginning, but I didn’t see him go, and I don’t know where he went. London I expect. He has a flat in Dolphin Square on the embankment. I’ll give you the address.’
Maguire continued asking quiet questions; occasionally supplemented by questions from Steve Grayson, and Simon regained his composure. When asked who he had talked to at the event he gave a list of names, including that of Dr Lizzie Browne.
‘She’s the new partner at the Honeywell Health Centre,’ he told Maguire. ‘Have you met her?’
‘Yes, we are acquainted,’ replied Maguire adding, ‘now finally, can you tell me what time you left the Country House Hotel? Was it at the same time as most of the other guests, or later?’
‘I stayed long enough to make sure all the perfume samples, that weren’t given out, were packed away safely. I don’t want them wasted. As I said, I put a substantial amount of my own money into this venture. It’s important to me that it is a success. When I left, most people had already gone, although I think I saw Dr Browne walking towards her car. I couldn’t be absolutely certain because the car park was very dark; most of the lighting had already been turned off by then.’
‘What kind of car do you use?’
‘I’ve got an old 4 x 4, a bit battered but reliable.’
Maguire made a note. ‘Thank you, that will be all for now.’ He nodded at his sergeant and they left together without speaking. It was mid-morning.
*
Once outside and away from Simon, Maguire waited beside Steve’s car. ‘What do you think?’
‘Not totally honest,’ said Steve. ‘Not if we are to believe Dr Browne’s evidence. According to Simon, all was lovey dovey between him and Jemima, but that’s not what Dr Browne said.’
‘Hmm. And no mention of a quarrel in the car park,’ muttered Maguire. ‘Although Lizzie can’t be one hundred percent certain it was Jemima and Simon quarrelling. It could have been Jemima and someone else, or even two completely different people.’
‘But she didn’t see anybody else, so where next?’ asked Steve.
‘Have you put out a search for that red car Lizzie saw Jemima getting into?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve got Kevin Harrison on to that. Pity though that Dr Browne didn’t recognize the make of the car.’
‘Women for you,’ said Maguire. ‘Unless it’s a Rolls Royce they don’t recognize it.’
‘My wife Ann wouldn’t recognize it even if it was a Rolls Royce,’ replied Grayson with a grin.
Chapter 5
Saturday was market day in Stibbington and Elsie Clackett, Adam Maguire’s housekeeper, always went shopping with her sister Hilda Thorne. Their regime was set in stone. They always met at the top of the hill, with their shopping trolleys, at 8.30am sharp, and bought their vegetables from the stall near the top of the market so that they got the best pick of everything. No palming off squashy tomatoes on them! Then they went halfway down the hill and stopped at Costa Coffee before having a general wander around.
This morning Hilda wanted to go to the shoe stall down by the quay. ‘I need a pair of soft sandals,’ she told her sister. ‘I’ve got a couple of corns that are killing me. I’ve had them done, but they still hurt.’
Elsie took charge. She always did. As soon as they’d purchased their vegetables, she led the way to Costa Coffee and ordered two lattes. ‘We’ll see about the sandals later,’ she said firmly.
*
Although Lizzie knew she really ought to stay in and give Silver Cottage a thorough clean, she decided a visit to the market would be preferable. She’d not yet done anything about Audrey Merryweather’s suggestion of approaching Hilda Thorne, there never seemed to be time to do that.
It was a beautiful bright morning, and the market was busy. On fine Saturdays people came from far and wide to the market and Lizzie enjoyed the bustling atmosphere. The first person she bumped into who she knew that morning was Audrey Merryweather, who immediately persuaded her to have a coffee before starting on her shopping. ‘I want to know about this latest case,’ she said. ‘Phineas hasn’t told me much, and I want to know what’s going on. I’ve always been interested in the Villiers family. They’ve got a pretty dark history you know, and, of course, I know Amelia, Mrs Villiers, from meetings at the Women’s’ Institute.’
Lizzie allowed herself to be ushered into Costa Coffee. ‘Simon told me the history of the rose murder, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Oh, not only that,’ said Audrey, settling herself in beside Lizzie. ‘Two cappuccinos please,’ she said to the waitress, then turned back to Lizzie. ‘There are lots of rumours about that family. Goings on, you know.’ She raised her eyebrows, and lowered her voice. ‘The men of the family have always had a reputation for womanising, and the current senior one, Harold, is no different, so they tell me. Although Amelia keeps him on a pretty tight rein now, and of course age plays a part. As Phineas says, it’s not so easy to get your leg over when it’s riddled with arthritis.’
Lizzie burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help laughing’
Their coffees arrived. Audrey ladled several heaped spoonfuls of sugar into hers. Like husband, like wife, thought Lizzie. Audrey was always on to Phineas to watch his waistline, but it seemed she didn’t worry about her own. ‘What I want to know,’ said Audrey now, stirring her coffee vigorously, ‘Is what do you know?’
‘Only what everyone else knows,’ said Lizzie. ‘I’ve read what Danny Bayley has put in the Stibbington Times, and said on TV. And like you, I’ve seen the press release from the police, and that’s it. And apart from catching a glimpse of her when she was waitressing at the perfume launch, I know nothing
else.’
‘Hmm,’ murmured Audrey. She looked at Lizzie, and lowered her voice again. ‘Her mother was very beautiful, and there was always gossip about her and…,’
Lizzie put her hand up. ‘I’m surprised at you, Audrey. Gossiping about the dead. You shock me.’
Audrey looked shamefaced for a moment, and then changed the subject. ‘Look, there’s Hilda Thorne over there with her sister Elsie. Have you asked her yet about doing the cleaning?’
‘No, I…’
Audrey waved at Hilda who came over, and before Lizzie had time to finish the sentence, or catch her breath, she found she had a cleaner coming in every Tuesday, eleven am until three pm, and she’d be paid the same as Adam Maguire paid her sister Elsie.
When Hilda had rejoined her sister at their table, Audrey looked triumphantly at Lizzie. ‘There,’ she said. ‘All done and dusted. No problem was it?’
‘Well, no,’ replied Lizzie hesitantly, ‘the only problem is I don’t know how much Adam pays his cleaner.’
‘Ask him,’ said Audrey, with irrefutable logic, and sipped her coffee. ‘Ah look, there’s Amelia Villiers. That’s odd, she doesn’t come to the market often, she usually sends Janet Hastings to do the shopping.’
Lizzie watched Amelia Villiers wending her way from the butchers’ stall to the greengrocers’ stall. She was wearing a bright yellow jacket and black jeans; both looked expensive and smart. However, the yellow didn’t suit her, thought Lizzie, as she was very pale, had dark circles around her eyes. She looked worried and unwell.
The Dead Girl's Shoes Page 5