False Pride

by Veronica Heley

  Magda emerged, patting her mouth dry. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Bea ignored that. ‘Is this man Kent Rycroft?’

  Magda shuddered. Didn’t want to look. She forced herself to stand right by the bed and look at the man. ‘No.’ She didn’t sound sure of herself. Then, more strongly, ‘No, it’s not him. No beard, and younger. But it does look a bit like him. Is he one of the cousins, perhaps? I don’t think I’ve seen him before. I mean, I don’t think it’s Kent, though I only ever saw him once at the interview, and I’ve heard that when people die they don’t look like themselves.’

  ‘It could be another member of the Rycroft family?’

  A shrug. ‘I’ve only ever met Lucas and Kent. Oh, and the twins. I’ve heard that there are some other cousins floating about but I’ve never met them.’

  Bea put her arm around Magda. ‘Come on, let’s go downstairs and ring the police.’

  ‘Not the police. You know we mustn’t!’

  ‘We can’t protect the Rycrofts in the event of a murder, and you know it.’

  Magda gave a little sob. ‘The Queen in Alice in Wonderland keeps saying “Off with his head!” When I saw a man with his head under the pillow, I thought he’d lost his head.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Bea urged Magda down the stairs. ‘Apart from Kent, what other members of the Rycroft family are about the right age as the man on the bed? You mentioned some cousins?’

  ‘I can’t think. Yes, I’ve had most of them on the phone at different times, I suppose, but …! Someone called Shirley and another called Hilary. Unusual names. I can’t remember which is male and which female, but I think they’re siblings. Then there’s the twins. And Kent. There’s another cousin or brother or something, but I don’t know anything about him. Wait a minute, I think Kent had a son. I think he was at uni.’

  ‘A university student would be younger than your corpse, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I don’t know. If we ring the police I’ll lose my job. But you’re right. The Rycrofts think so much of themselves. Pride, dreadful pride. Pride goes before a fall, they say. I’m rambling. Take no notice.’

  ‘What’s happened here is constructive dismissal, meaning you’re out of a job anyway. We’ll pack and get you out of here. I’ll get you another job.’

  ‘But Lucas … what will he do without me?’ A wail. ‘Oh, where is he?’

  ‘More to the point,’ said Bea, ‘where is Piers? I haven’t seen him since he vanished with the biscuit tin.’

  The phone rang downstairs. No, two phones.

  Magda scrambled down the stairs faster than Bea, who didn’t intend to have a fall on a strange flight of steps, so took her time getting down.

  Magda had gone for the landline. ‘Yes … Yes, I understand that, but we can’t just do nothing because …’ She looked at the phone blankly, and replaced it on the wall. ‘That was Mrs Tarring, saying not to do anything and she’s on her way here.’

  Bea picked up her own mobile, interrupting its wish to send its caller to voicemail. A voice with a purr in it. A woman. An alto. Self-assured and well-educated. ‘Mrs Abbot? My name is Darlene. Bill Morton says I have to ring you straight away, to reassure you that I am not selling your ward on to white slavers or whoever.’

  Bea had forgotten all about her ward’s weekend escapade. How could she have been so remiss? ‘I’m glad to have heard from you. I’m sorry you’ve been put to so much inconvenience—’

  ‘None at all. I am so very fond of dear Billy’s grandchild, and I gather the two little girls are inseparable at school.’

  She calls him ‘Billy’ instead of ‘William’! I wonder how he likes that?

  The woman continued. ‘So naughty of him not to have cleared the invitation for your little ward with you first. I shall have to scold him about that, won’t I?’

  Bea was seized with an impulse to have hysterics. She mastered it, with an effort. How dare the woman talk like that! As if Bea had to be warned off ‘dear Billy’! Which was not the case. No. It had been many months since Bea had decided that she was not going to allow William Morton a permanent place in her life. A nice man, but …

  ‘I quite understand,’ said Bea, in her creamiest tone. ‘Now, if you’ll give me your address and phone number in case of emergencies? Oh, and what arrangements will you make for getting the girls back to school tomorrow?’

  Bea listened, made notes, and put the phone down.

  Magda was opening then shutting the fridge door in a distracted fashion. ‘If Mrs Tarring’s coming over, what shall we have for lunch? Or, do you think she’ll have eaten?’

  She’s ignoring the corpse in her bed. She’s lost her sense of proportion.

  ‘No more dilly-dallying,’ said Bea. ‘We have to ring the cops.’

  ‘No, no! Mrs Tarring said we mustn’t!’

  ‘Mrs Tarring doesn’t yet know about the man in your bed. That’s a pleasure in store for her. But before that, I need to find Piers. He wandered off somewhere ages ago.’

  She told herself no harm could have come to him in a flat which was empty of all personnel except for her, Magda … and the dead body, of course. She almost ran back along the corridor into the entrance hall. All was quiet.

  A listening quiet? There was nobody in the library … unless you had a fanciful imagination and thought that the bug under the desk was lurking, watching …

  Nonsense! Piers had removed that, hadn’t he? Nevertheless.

  There was nobody in the sitting room next door. No.

  Lucas’s bedroom? No, why would he …?

  Piers was lying, spread-eagled on the bed. Dead?

  ‘Piers!’ She shook his shoulder.

  A groan. Which meant he was alive!

  Thank the Lord! I couldn’t have borne it if …

  ‘What’s the time?’ Piers tried to sit up. Rubbed his eyes. Yawned, and yelped as his jaw protested. His bruise was developing fast. ‘Must have dropped off. Been a busy morning.’

  Bea felt weak. She sat on the bed next to him. ‘I thought for a moment … what with your having been hit and all, I thought you might be, well, unconscious.’ Or dead.

  ‘Mm? Don’t you ever have a nap in the afternoon? Forty winks. Keeps me going.’

  For two pins Bea would have lain down beside him, and let him put his arms around her. She could do with a cuddle.

  No! What on earth was she thinking of? She’d be going in for pink blouses next. It was being in contact with Magda and her romantic notions that was putting these ideas into her head.

  She said, ‘Lucas Rycroft is missing. Remember? So is his elder brother. And there’s a stranger in Magda’s bed. Dead.’

  ‘Really? How inconvenient. Why is he in Magda’s bed?’ He put his hand on Bea’s shoulder in a gesture of affection, then swung his legs round to sit up properly. He touched his cheek and winced. Yes, his jaw was swollen. He’d taken some aspirin, which must have helped him to relax and even to fall asleep. His little nap couldn’t indicate anything more serious, could it?

  She tried to concentrate. Piers had made a good point. Why had the body been put in Magda’s bed? If Bea was any judge of the matter, he’d died somewhere else, because there had been no signs to indicate that Magda’s pillow had been used to suffocate him.

  Magda stood in the doorway. Hovering. Wringing her hands in distress. ‘Yes, why would anyone put him in my bed?’

  Bea said, ‘I think it was a warning to you to keep away from Lucas. Someone thinks you might want to be helpful to him in his hour of need.’

  Magda said, ‘Oh, do you really think so?’ And turned pink.

  Someone turned a key in the lock on the front door.

  They all heard it.

  ‘Lucas!’ Magda started for the hall.

  Bea heard the front door open and close, and Magda’s forlorn exclamation, ‘Oh, it’s you!’

  Piers struggled to his feet. ‘Not lover boy, I assume.’

  ‘Don’t be coarse!’ Bea shook her head at Piers in
mock disapproval. ‘I don’t suppose it’s ever occurred to Lucas to think of Magda in that way.’

  ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder—’

  ‘As soon as he turns up again, she’ll remember all his irritating little ways.’

  He yawned, and clapped his hand to his yellowing jaw. ‘Remind me not to yawn. Have you got any more of those aspirins, by any chance?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have any more for a while.’

  Magda appeared in the doorway. ‘It’s Mrs Tarring. Isn’t that good news?’ Trying to sound positive.

  Mrs Tarring was an older version of Magda. She was better upholstered, wore a pale lipstick and sported a gold pin on the lapel of her jacket. Also mock-pearl earrings. ‘Mrs Abbot? I don’t understand why …’ She switched her eyes to Piers. ‘And who …?’

  Bea took the initiative. ‘This is my friend, Piers, the portrait painter who was supposed to have met with Lucas this morning. Would you like to view our corpse, which has been laid out tastefully in Magda’s bed?’

  ‘What!’

  Bea led the way. Mrs Tarring followed her up the stairs, across the landing and into Magda’s bedroom.

  Bea said, ‘Who do you think this is?’

  Mrs Tarring looked. Gasped. Reached for something to hold on to. Connected with a substantial chest of drawers, and leaned on it.

  Bea said, ‘Is it Kent Rycroft?’

  A fervent shake of the head. ‘No!’

  ‘Another Rycroft?’

  A positive nod. A hand went to her mouth. Bea guided her to the bathroom.

  Retching sounds. Flush of toilet.

  Magda had followed them up. ‘How dare they put someone in my bed!’

  Bea said, ‘You think this is the twins’ work? I doubt it. Yes, I can see them bludgeoning someone to death, but I don’t see them neatly laying their victim out in your bed. That’s too subtle for them.’

  Piers appeared. ‘Let’s have a look, then.’ He bent over the body, showing no signs of revulsion. Then straightened up. ‘He’s the same physical type as the chap I found at my place, but this one is younger. Much younger. Who is he?’

  Mrs Tarring emerged from the bathroom, dabbing her lips. ‘It’s Owen Rycroft.’

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Magda. ‘Oh, wait a minute. He’s the one there’s been all the fuss about, isn’t he? I’ve never met him, but didn’t someone say he was going to move into the flat below us? But we never see our neighbours, so I … No, I’ve never seen him before.’

  ‘Quite likely,’ said Mrs Tarring. ‘He’s not been on the scene for long and he’s had no reason to contact you.’ She looked at the body, and looked away. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

  Bea said, ‘Let’s go downstairs, shall we, and call the police.’

  ‘No, we can’t!’ said Mrs Tarring.

  ‘Sorry, one body too many,’ said Bea, leading the way out of the bedroom.

  ‘But you don’t understand! Lord Rycroft is adamant that—’

  ‘Mrs Tarring, this is not the twins’ work, if that is what you were thinking. Now, where was Lord Rycroft when you rang him this morning?’

  ‘I am forbidden to ring him. He rings me every Saturday morning at some time convenient to himself. I was really worried that I might have to break his rule and contact him, what with everything that’s been happening, but fortunately he did ring me a little while back.’

  ‘So you don’t know if he was in London or not when he rang you?’

  ‘He rang on his mobile. He was in the car.’

  ‘His housekeeper – or whoever it was who answered the phone at the country house – said he left home after breakfast. Now, when you spoke to Lord Rycroft, you did tell him about Kent, didn’t you? We’ve found out which hospital he’s in, but—’

  ‘He said it was impossible that Kent had been attacked. He said I was talking nonsense. He said he was coming up to town, and he’d contact me again later. So it can’t be Kent who’s in the hospital.’

  Bea considered tearing her hair out but didn’t. She had had a particularly becoming cut and blow-dry that week, and didn’t want to upset it.

  Magda pulled Mrs Tarring into the sitting room. ‘Come and see. The cabinet!’

  Mrs Tarring stifled a cry.

  ‘Now do you believe me?’ said Magda. ‘I told you the jade was gone.’

  Mrs Tarring’s eyes switched from side to side. ‘It’s insured. I’m sure it’s insured.’

  Bea said, ‘Now there’s a nasty thought. The Rycroft jewellery was removed from the bank this morning. Is it insured if it’s taken out of the vaults, or not?’

  Mrs Tarring’s eyes widened. ‘No, I don’t think it will be. Not if it’s been removed from … who has dared to do this?’

  ‘Lucas, apparently. Acting under instructions from someone.’ Bea touched Piers on the arm. ‘Can you bear to contact the police again? We can’t sit on this. Here, take my phone.’

  ‘No!’ said Mrs Tarring, in a faint voice. But then she sat down on the nearest chair and blew her nose, resigning herself to the situation.

  SEVEN

  Saturday afternoon

  Piers made the call to the police.

  After identifying himself and giving the address, he said, ‘I was in touch with you earlier today about a man who’d been assaulted at my studio in West London. No, not here. In my house in Ealing. The man was carted off to hospital. No, I’m not ringing about that. No, I can’t remember the name of the inspector who dealt with the matter, but I’m sure you can find it out even if it’s not in your patch. Yes, I do understand that London is divided up into different areas and each has its own police force, but if you check around … Yes, I understand that I ought to have taken down all the details but I’d been knocked out and wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. The police did take me to the hospital to be checked out … no, I’m not pulling your leg and yes, I do agree that wasting police time with frivolous queries must seem …’

  The phone quacked, and Piers’s eyebrows rose. Twice he tried to interrupt. Finally he said, ‘Is it my turn to speak now? I have to report another body, but unlike the one this morning, this one did not hang on to life till I arrived. He is definitely dead, and in someone else’s bed, not his own. No, not with a woman. It’s not that sort of death. I really think you ought to take a look. I gave you the address earlier. Do you want me to repeat it?’

  Apparently they did. After that, he ended the call and handed the phone back to Bea. ‘They’ll be fifteen minutes, at least.’

  Bea put her arm round Mrs Tarring’s shoulders. ‘Look, I realize you’ve had a nasty shock but we don’t have much time. Can you fill me in on who’s who in the Rycroft family, and how Owen fits in?’

  Mrs Tarring made an effort to pull herself together, but her eyes switched this way and that and never met Bea’s. Was the woman considering what to say and what to keep quiet about?

  ‘Lord Rycroft married twice. Kent is his son by his first marriage. Kent is the one who runs the family trust. Owen is the product of Lord Rycroft’s second, short-lived marriage. He was brought up by his mother in Australia, where she’d gone to live after obtaining a divorce from His Lordship. When she died a few months ago, Owen came over to see if we’d give him a job. And that’s what we did.’

  There was a subtext here which Mrs Tarring was not giving. Bea checked with Piers, who had taken a seat at the far end of the room. His eyebrows peaked, and he sent her a look which meant that he didn’t buy that story as it stood.

  Bea said, ‘Was Owen something of a black sheep, by any chance?’

  ‘I really couldn’t say.’ A repressive tone.

  Magda was frowning. ‘He looks like Kent, a bit. I get that.’

  Bea said, ‘I suppose he could prove that he was who he said he was?’

  ‘Of course. Kent found him a job, and he was provided with accommodation. As you say, the family resemblance is remarkable.’

  Bea said, ‘How come the twins don’t resemble K
ent and Owen so much?’

  ‘They take after their mother, Mrs Nicholas. She was a large woman. Rode to hounds, that sort of thing.’

  Bea said, ‘I wonder how the twins took to Owen’s arrival? Did they object to another Rycroft demanding a share of the family fortune?’

  ‘You’d have to ask them.’ Mrs Tarring pinched in her lips in an expression of distaste and then relaxed. ‘You’re right, of course. They didn’t like it. Owen’s personality was … abrasive. He did not trouble to make himself liked by the family. Lord Rycroft asked us in the office to make Owen welcome. And we did. Of course we did. But there have been times when … Oh, I really don’t see why I should cover for him. I caught him trying to force one of the office girls to have sex with him. She was distressed. She has a boyfriend who is of a jealous nature and if he had decided to take Owen to task, well, it might have been very nasty. I warned Owen to keep away from the girl. He laughed at me. I said I’d complain to Lord Rycroft. Owen threatened to get me dismissed. He didn’t succeed, of course, but after that I kept out of his way. I told Kent what had happened, but he couldn’t do much with Owen, either.’

  Bea looked to Piers for a comment. He closed one eye slowly, and then opened it again. Was he winking at her? Or … no. He was just tired. Now he was rubbing his forehead in weary fashion. Just tired.

  She turned back to Mrs Tarring. ‘So was it Owen’s arrival from Australia which sent the family into a tizzy, and not some rumour that Lord Rycroft was going gaga?’

  Mrs Tarring bit her lip. She checked with Magda, who was frowning at some thought of her own and didn’t meet Mrs Tarring’s eye. ‘I’ve never observed Lord Rycroft doing anything to indicate that he was suffering from delusions, though I did hear one of the others worrying about … no, I really have nothing to say on the subject. You say Kent is in hospital, but Lord Rycroft says he isn’t. I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘You could visit Kent in hospital,’ said Bea.

  Mrs Tarring lifted her hands. ‘I repeat, Lord Rycroft doesn’t believe it’s Kent in the hospital, and I have to go along with that. I have never had anything like this happen before. When Lord Rycroft hears that you’ve called in the police, I don’t know what he’ll do. I’ll have to tell him it wasn’t me who made the call. I don’t want to lose my job.’