The Corpse with the Sapphire Eyes

by Cathy Ace

  I asked, “Eirwen, what can you tell me about that lift that Alice uses? Was it installed recently?”

  With only Eirwen, Bud, and myself remaining in the once-again-cozy drawing room, it seemed that Idris’s wife was glad to have something to talk about.

  She gushed a little as she answered, “No, it was put in about twenty years ago, I believe. Obviously, long before my time here. I think Alice’s back started to get really bad when she was in her early seventies. She really just uses the chair because of the stairs, and this place is so big, of course. It makes life easier all round.”

  I was on full alert. “To be clear, are you saying that Alice is perfectly capable of walking about the place?”

  I could tell that she was choosing her words carefully when she replied, “I wouldn’t say she can get about easily. She has an old walking frame for getting around her apartment, but the stairs would just be too much for her. And, even in her motorized chair, she tires quickly.” Eirwen paused and added, “Mind you, maybe that’s not natural, if Janet’s been slipping her sleeping tablets.”

  “So the little lift was put in to accommodate a non-motorized chair?” I asked.

  Eirwen nodded.

  I continued, “I noticed yesterday that the new chair doesn’t fit into the little cab-thing very well, so I guessed that. But I also noticed that the lift is exceptionally quiet. That’s unusual for something as old, and as basic, as that.”

  An emotional cloud passed across Eirwen’s eyes. “David did that,” she said. She looked up at me, and her eyes seemed suddenly tired—hooded. “When he and Rhian first married, and he moved in here, he seemed to be everywhere at once, doing so many jobs for everyone, and making us all feel . . .” she searched for the best word, “looked after.” She nodded, pleased with her choice. “He wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew how important it was to have Alice on his side, so he was especially careful to give priority to the jobs that directly affected her life. That lift was number one on his list of things to fix, and fix it he did. It used to make the most dreadful grinding noise as it went up and down. David fitted some rubber shoes—I think that’s what he said, but I might be wrong. It was a very long time ago. It’s been wonderfully quiet ever since.” A wan smile curled her lips. “It was something that affected all our lives, because, in those days, Alice was up and down in it much more often that she is now, and it drove us all almost mad.” A broader grin cracked her lips open. “Of course, the trouble with it now is that no one ever knows she’s coming. So there’s a definite downside to what David did.” Eirwen paused, then added, as much to herself as to Bud and me, “But then, there always was.”

  She snapped back to reality and smiled brightly. Too brightly.

  I decided to take my chance, with Idris out of the room, and be direct. “Eirwen, did anything personal ever happen between you and David Davies?”

  “Don’t be twp,” snapped Eirwen, “I wouldn’t.”

  “He wouldn’t,” added Gwen at the same moment. I didn’t know how long she’d been hovering at the door, but she reappeared as she spoke. The two women gave each other a surprised look, and Gwen deferred to Eirwen who was, to all intents and purposes, her hostess.

  Eirwen composed herself as she said, “David was . . . well, he was quite forward on occasions. But he was always quite the gent. Gallant. Helpful, you know? But not feely touchy with me, or anything like that. Though I will admit that those eyes of his could be very—well, I suppose that ‘hypnotic’ would be going too far, but they certainly pulled you in. Such long, dark lashes. The effect was extraordinary, if you know what I mean.”

  “Do you know what she means, Gwen?” I looked directly at my mousey ex-schoolmate who was settling herself near the fire, having returned from making sure that Rhian was comfortable.

  Gwen blushed. She nodded, dropped her head, and looked at the three of us as though she were a sad puppy. “He always knew what to say to make me feel better. He always made me feel special, that I’d done a good job, you know? And his eyes? Smashing, they were. Deep blue, with flecks of gold. Everyone said they were amazing. But, like Eirwen said, he was always very proper with me, too. Rhian and I are good friends, you see. Lovely man. So talented. I’ll miss him a lot.”

  I was beginning to get an inkling of exactly how much Gwen would miss David Davies, and it dawned on me that she was a woman who could quite easily find herself clinging to those who paid her any attention, however small. I wondered how the dashing David had coped with that attention. It sounded as though he was accustomed to using his appealing eyes and charming manner to ingratiate himself with women. He might have gone further.

  With all the talk of eyes, I managed a quick glance into Bud’s. They are pale blue, and whether kind or stern in the moment, they are always full of emotion. Best eyes in the world. Then I couldn’t help but think of Angus. Angus with one green eye, and one almost blue. Angus with the mop of unruly hair that always made him look disheveled. Angus with the looks that were a cross between Tony Curtis and Robbie Williams. Angus with the wicked temper, and the rapier wit.

  Bud must have noticed that I was deep in thought, because he stood and said, “Should I be doing something with the fire? Or could I maybe bring more logs into the room? We seem to be almost out of them. I guess I take this to carry them?”

  “Thanks, Bud,” replied Eirwen, as Bud picked up an old coal bucket. “The logs are kept in a dry lean-to outside the music room. If you wouldn’t mind, that would be super. I’ll come with you, show you where they are.”

  Bud and Eirwen left the room, so our entire group had dwindled to just Gwen and me. I forced myself to stop thinking about the man whose psyche had sought to destroy mine, then whose death had ruined my life even more completely, forcing me to run from Britain in an attempt to escape the tabloid press. I wanted to consider Gwen herself. I stared into the fire, always a comforting thing to do, though a log fire shifts and moves differently than a coal fire. The body of the fire glows differently, the sparks move more swiftly, the smell is so very different.

  Once again the “coincidence” that Gwen had been in Cambridge when Angus and I had taken our last painful jabs at each other niggled at me.

  “You’re very quiet,” noted Gwen rather sulkily. “That’s not like you.”

  I wanted to say, “How would you know?” but decided against it. Gwen seemed to feel we had a stronger connection thirty years after I’d left school than I had even believed we had when I was there. Odd.

  Before I had a chance to say anything at all, Bud came back into the drawing room from the music room. I’d expected him to be carrying a brass bucket full of logs, but he wasn’t. Rather unexpectedly he was carrying a kitchen knife with its handle wrapped in an old rag. “Look what we found, stuck in amongst the wood in the log pile,” he said. “I think this might be what someone used to slash Alice’s portrait, otherwise why would it be there?”

  “Good point,” I replied. “Is there anything special about it?” I noted how carefully he was handling it.

  “Other than that it was hidden, not much. But, having found it where I did, I’m going to get a paper bag from Eirwen and put it somewhere safe, so I can pass it to the authorities when I can. It might not tell us anything, but it could tell them a whole lot. So that brings us to the big question, Cait—have you managed to work out how David’s death and the vandalism here are connected?”

  I looked up at Bud and said, “Maybe.”

  Tri ar ddeg ar hugain

  THE SCREAM WAS LOUD, AND it couldn’t be ignored. Bud, Gwen, and I ran from the drawing room toward the staircase. It was clear that the noise was coming from Alice’s apartment, so we all three ran up the stairs. I could see Eirwen trying to catch up with us.

  When we arrived at the apartment, Bud didn’t hesitate; he swung the door open to its fullest extent and I rushed past him. I hadn’t known what to expect, but nothing could have prepared me for the scene that met my eyes.

  Alice Cadwalla
der might have been ninety-two years old, but she had managed to attach herself to my sister’s back, and was beating poor Siân about the head with her one free fist. Janet Roberts was lying at my sister’s feet, her arms wrapped around Siân’s knees, and was biting at her legs. Idris Cadwallader was lying on the floor next to a window, a gash on his head and a broken table lamp beside him.

  Bud leapt into action. I joined him, and we attempted to pry Alice off my sister without hurting the old woman. Rhian rushed into the room and began to pull Janet away from Siân’s legs, while Eirwen wailed over her seemingly unconscious husband.

  Alice’s grip on Siân’s hair was tenacious, and I knew we were causing Siân more pain by trying to pull the woman off, but there seemed little else we could do. At one point, Alice smacked me in the face, and I knew a black eye would follow.

  Rhian managed to get Janet away from Siân, but as soon as Janet was on her feet, she started lashing out at Rhian, who hit back with all the ferocity of a woman who was allowing her grief to flow out of her as anger. A full-fledged catfight ensued. Eventually, Janet hit the floor with a thud. At the same moment Alice lost her grip on Siân’s hair, and Bud was able to split the two of them apart. He carried Alice to a daybed that sat beneath a window, and told her, in no uncertain terms, “Stay there, Alice—or I’ll have to do something to make you do just that.” Alice shrunk into a little ball and began to cry like a baby, wailing and sobbing.

  I took one look at my sister and told her to sit in a chair, which I pulled toward her. She had scratches and cuts on her face, as well as bite marks on her legs. She was shaking with anger.

  “What on earth happened?” I asked her as I tried to help with her tangled hair.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. “I must check on Idris.” She pushed me away and moved quickly toward the man who was still lying motionless on the floor.

  Getting Eirwen and Gwen to let go of him was Siân’s first job, then she rolled him over, checking his vital signs and the wound on the side of his head. Almost immediately, Idris opened his eyes, a shocked expression on his face.

  “You’re okay,” said Siân soothingly. “You’ve had a nasty crack on your head, so we’ll give you a moment or two to get your bearings. Then I’ll do some tests to see if you’ve sustained a concussion. I need you to make all your movements slow and steady, so we don’t jar your head or your neck. Understand?”

  Idris nodded.

  “No, don’t nod your head, Idris, just speak. How do you feel? Can you see me properly?”

  Idris croaked, “Yes, just fine.” He put his hand to his head, pulled it away, and saw the blood.

  Eirwen gasped, “Who did this to you, Idris? Tell me, who did this?”

  “Alice,” he whispered. “She hit me with a lamp. When Siân accused Nurse Janet of over-medicating Alice, both Alice and Janet went berserk. Have they calmed down now?”

  Eirwen looked around and noticed Bud standing in the middle of Alice’s sitting room. “They have, and Bud will make sure it stays that way.”

  “What in blue blazes is going on in here then?” Dilys appeared at the door to the apartment. “Oh my giddy aunt. What’s happened?” She spotted Alice, who was rolled into a ball on the daybed, and made a beeline for her. “Alice? Alice, what’s the matter, cariad?” She stroked the woman’s hand, and Alice began to uncurl.

  Looking up at Dilys, the old woman said sweetly, “Hullo, Dilys. When’s dinner going to be? Will it be beef? I like beef. Let’s have beef, whatever Idris says about the cost. I can have a little treat when I fancy it, can’t I?”

  Bud and I exchanged a glance, and I wondered how long Alice had been having violent episodes like the one that had just resulted in Idris being knocked out. I quickly reasoned, however, that, whatever mental challenges Alice might be facing, Janet had been the one wrapped around Siân’s legs, biting at them. That was a greater cause for concern, so I allowed Dilys to handle Alice, while Siân and Eirwen continued to attend to Idris. I moved to the area of the room where Rhian was standing triumphantly above Janet, who was cowering on the floor with a welt across her face.

  I reached out a hand toward the “nurse,” who took it and pulled herself up. “Keep her away from me,” she said, angrily eyeing up Rhian. “She’ll take it all out on me, she will. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t give him the come-on. He didn’t need one. All over me, he was, two minutes after I got here. Gagging for it. Sorry, Rhian, love. It was all just a bit of fun really. I’m sure he still loved you. Said he loved me, but I didn’t believe him for a minute. Knew his type only too well, but it’s very boring here and, well, you know. It filled the time.”

  I wondered if Janet cared as little for David as she claimed.

  Rhian sagged. “Don’t say that, you horrible girl. Don’t talk about my husband that way.” She clenched her fist, and Bud was on guard in an instant.

  “Come along now, ladies,” he said. “Let’s keep this calm. Janet, would you please come over here and sit in this chair, and Rhian you sit in that one.” Once the two women were at opposite sides of the room, Bud stood between them, while they glared at each other.

  By the time Owain stuck his head into the apartment, comparative peace had returned.

  “I heard a kerfuffle,” he said. “I thought I should come to see what was going on.” He looked puzzled at seeing almost everyone in his mother’s apartment. “Where’s Mair? Missing all the fun, as usual?” he quipped.

  I looked around. He was right, Mair wasn’t there, and she was only one floor up from her mother’s room, while Rhian had made it all the way down from the top floor of the wing.

  “I’ll go and check on her. Owain, show me the way, please.” I knew that I was barking at the man as I grabbed him in the doorway. He dawdled along the landing as he followed me. “Owain, come on,” I snapped. He seemed to slow down. I returned to stand in front of him. I looked up into his beetled brow and tiny eyes and said firmly, “Owain Cadwallader. There’s been a near-riot going on in your mother’s apartment, which I’m guessing you heard from your library.” He nodded. “And you came to find out what it was all about, didn’t you? Because you thought it was something serious, right?” Again, he nodded. “Then what do you think would stop your sister from coming down one flight of stairs from her rooms to find out why her mother was screaming her head off?”

  “I don’t know, I’m sure,” he said haughtily.

  “Nor do I,” I snapped back. “But I think we should find out, don’t you? It must be a very good reason, after all. So if you don’t want to come with me, then don’t, but at least tell me how I get into her apartment.”

  I could tell that Owain was pursing his lips into a boyish pout because of the way his beard moved.

  “Up the stairs at the end, through that door,” he said. “Hers is the first door you’ll come to. She’s at the sea-end of the wing, above us here.” He waved an arm above his head.

  I didn’t bother to thank him, I just abandoned him and sped toward the door he’d indicated, the one Bud and I had used to get up to the top floor earlier in the day.

  Two minutes later I was panting and knocking at Mair’s door. “Mair? Can I come in, please?” No answer. I knocked louder and tried the handle, just as Bud joined me.

  “Let me go in first, Cait,” he said.

  Bud pushed the door, and it creaked open. The room was in total darkness, the only light coming from the landing. Bud reached around and found a light switch. An overhead chandelier sprung to life and we saw a scene of total devastation. Broken mirrors, chairs turned over, books and knitting projects all over the place, balls of yarn tossed across the floor.

  “Mair?” I called. “It’s Bud and Cait, can we come in?”

  Bud motioned for me to follow him. We picked our way across the room and into Mair’s bedroom. Another light switch, another room in disarray, but no sign of Mair. I even checked inside her massive wardrobe and under her bed.

  “Bathroom?” I asked. Bu
d nodded, and we made our way to the final room in Mair’s suite. This time the room was empty but nothing had been disturbed.

  I sighed. “I thought she might have done something to harm herself.”

  Bud nodded. “I know you did, and so did I. But looking around the place it’s hard to know what’s happened here.”

  “Someone might have been searching for something,” I suggested, moving back through the bedroom to the sitting room. “But you know, I don’t think that’s what this is.”

  “I agree,” said Bud, sounding grim. “This is anger, temper. Someone’s crashed around the place not caring about the destruction.”

  “Maybe Mair did it herself,” I said. “When she left us at the dinner table, she was a very angry, unhappy woman. I know the profile, Bud; she’s a solitary person, she has no, or few, friends, and her anger had nowhere to go. This is her world, and she’s just destroyed it. Of course I’m glad that she hasn’t turned her anger on herself—but I think we should try to find her. I’m very concerned about what she might do. This is both a good and a bad sign. Her rage might have dissipated to the point where it’s played out, on this occasion. Or this might be the first sign of her having decided that she no longer has any use for this part of her world—or any part.”

  “We should ask the family where she might go,” said Bud. “Find out if she has any favorite places.” He peered into the blackness beyond Mair’s windows. “It’s very dark out there. I know the rain’s pretty much stopped, but the cloud cover is still thick enough to prevent the moonlight from coming through. If she’s off on a ramble, she could lose her footing very easily—it’s all so wet out there.”

  I looked at my watch. “It’s gone eight o’clock, and she must have left us in the dining room at, what, about six?” Bud nodded.