‘And Matthew chose 11am because, as Tom told us the very first time we interviewed him, he always goes into the fields at about 11am every day to check on the coffee plants. So by killing Freddie just after 11am, Matthew knew that Tom would almost certainly have no alibi for the time of the murder. That’s why Matthew got Lucy to walk into our Police station at exactly half past ten that morning saying that there was a stalker at the plantation. Of course we said we’d investigate. Then it was just a matter of Lucy making sure that we were nowhere near the old drying shed at 11am when Matthew went in, met with Freddie, and shot him dead.
‘But how did he then get out of the room afterwards?’ Hugh asked.
‘You mean, considering how it was locked from the inside?’
‘Of course. It’s not possible.’
‘But it becomes far easier to understand when you realise who else was involved in Freddie’s murder. Lucy herself. In fact, it becomes extremely easy to explain. Matthew shot Freddie dead in the shower room. He then turned the shower on, locked the main door, and then he left through the window here.’
As Richard said this, he moved over to indicate the old metal window on the far side of the room.
‘It would then have been a simple matter to land on the tarmac just beyond the flower bed, and then reach back and push the window shut.’
‘But I thought that window was locked on the inside?’ Hugh asked.
‘It was,’ Richard agreed. ‘The latch was jammed into the window frame, and the butterfly lock on the window’s metal lever was firmly screwed down. But remember, Matthew turned on the shower before he left the scene. I couldn’t work out why at the time. I assumed that maybe the killer had been trying to wash some kind of evidence away, but now I understand, because – as Tom told me yesterday – this room has never worked very well as a shower room. The ventilation’s terrible. But that’s hardly surprising, the clue has always been in the name: this is the old Drying Shed. It’s supposed to have poor ventilation. But that’s why Matthew set the shower to its hottest setting and turned it on after shooting Freddie dead. He knew that the shower would start to fill the room with steam.
‘This meant that when we smashed the door open, the room was thick with steam. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t so heavy that DS Bordey and I failed to see that there was a dead body lying in the middle of the floor. And, as Police officers, we of course both rushed to the body to see if we could offer any assistance. As Matthew and Lucy knew we would. And it was then, as we were briefly distracted by the dead body – while the steam was still filling the room – that Lucy came to the window here and quickly closed the latch and screwed the lock down.
‘It was so simple, really. Matthew would commit the murder but leave one thread sticking out – the fact that while he’d been able to close the window, he couldn’t lock it from outside the room. Then, once he’d got clear of the scene, Lucy would tuck that one thread back in for him. And Lucy must have been so pleased with herself when she managed to lock the window without us seeing. Because, as far as she was concerned, that was going to be the end of the story. It would now look as though an unidentified tramp had been alone inside a locked room when he committed suicide.
‘But what Lucy didn’t know was that Matthew wasn’t just content with killing his biological father. He also wanted to kill her. So, although he’d got her to help him by promising that he could make the scene look like a suicide, he left behind two very simple clues that he knew would make the Police conclude that Freddie’s death had to be murder.’
‘He did?’ Hugh asked. ‘What clues?’
‘Well, the first was the fact that Freddie was shot twice. Because, when we found the second bullet, we quite naturally began to wonder how Freddie could have shot himself dead with a gun that he was holding with a hand that had already taken a bullet to the wrist. In fact, it made us realise that Freddie’s death couldn’t have been suicide. It was almost certainly murder.
‘However, this second gunshot wasn’t a mistake. It had always been Matthew’s plan to shoot Freddie twice so that we’d think that this was a murder that had gone wrong. I presume that the first shot was the killing shot to Freddie’s heart. But then, once Freddie was lying dead on the floor, Matthew then took the gun and very carefully fired a second bullet into Freddie’s right wrist to make it look as though there’d been a tussle of some kind that had resulted in a wild shot being fired. Matthew then placed the gun in the dead man’s right hand as if the killer had then been forced to go through with his plan even though it was now botched. And we fell for the bait. Just as he knew we would.
‘As for the second clue, Matthew made sure that one of the bullets he used to kill Freddie had Lucy’s fingerprint on it. Because, as soon as we found Lucy’s fingerprint on the bullet casing, he knew we’d ask her how it might have got there, and she’d be forced into revealing that she owned a handgun. A handgun that she kept in her safe. And when we opened the safe, we’d discover that her gun and box of bullets were no longer there, and that the keypad had been wiped clean of fingerprints with a blue cloth.
‘And if we really didn’t pick up on either of these clues, Matthew also left the box of 1080 poison – and Lucy’s remaining box of bullets, and the blue cloth he’d used to wipe the safe clean – and the graphite powder he’d used to reveal Lucy’s fingerprints – in a tin box hidden at the back of Tom’s wardrobe. As an insurance policy in case the Police were too stupid and ever needed a nudge towards believing that Tom was the killer. Well, Matthew was fortunate and unfortunate here. Yes, we were clever enough to follow the trail to Tom for ourselves. But we were also clever enough to realise that the trail of clues we were following was false.’
Richard was looking directly at Matthew, but he was still looking down at the floor, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Very well, Richard thought to himself. It was time to test Matthew’s self-control.
‘And now we come to the murder of Lucy. Because everything had been going so well for Matthew. The Police had uncovered Freddie’s real identity without help. We’d even found the clues at the scene that proved that Freddie’s death was in fact murder – and taken the bait that a lot of the evidence seemed to be pointing to Tom. But Lucy still had to die, didn’t she, Matthew?
‘After all, you knew better than most how emotionally unstable she was, and while she’d maybe have been able to keep her composure if Freddie’s death had been ruled a straight suicide, you knew that we’d soon be treating it as a murder. And yet, I think you were still surprised by how quickly she began to fall apart under the pressure of the Police investigation.
‘And when you discovered – at the same time as us, as it happens – that Lucy had even started eavesdropping on you, I think it made you realise that maybe Lucy was even beginning to think that you couldn’t be trusted. When she came back from the solicitors and had her complete meltdown that evening, I think you decided you could delay no longer. The sister you’d loved your whole life had to die. By the following morning, you’d poisoned Lucy’s cafetiere with 1080 – I imagine by inserting the 1080 in between the metal meshes of the plunger so it was released and dissolved into the coffee when she pushed it down.’
‘But that’s what I refuse to believe,’ Hugh said. ‘How could he kill her? He loved her. More than any of us.’
‘And that’s why I said earlier that there didn’t seem to be any rational reasons for Matthew to be the killer. But his motive to kill Freddie and Lucy isn’t entirely rational. And remember: Matthew is sick in his soul. He always has been. Think about it. He was five years old when he cut that dead bird open. Can you imagine that? A five-year-old boy stumbles across a dead bird on the lawn, and isn’t repulsed. In fact, he’s fascinated by what he’s seeing. And not just fascinated, he wants to see more. So he goes and gets his sister’s knife and cuts the dead bird open.
‘And there’s something else that that incident teaches us about Matthew. Because maybe he saw his brother Tom approach
ing, dropped the knife and ran away. Or maybe he’d already got bored and had left the scene. But, either way, it was Tom who stumbled across the bird and picked up the bloody penknife. And it was then Tom who got the blame when Nanny Rosie found him standing over the dead bird holding a knife only a few moments later.
‘Matthew learned a very important lesson that day. Because he saw how much trouble Tom got into with Nanny Rosie. Simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even though Matthew knew that Tom was blameless. And here we are, all these years later, and Matthew has done it again. But this time it wasn’t Lucy’s knife he used. It was her gun. Even if the person who he framed for the crime was the same. His brother, Tom.’
Richard got out his hankie and wiped the slick of sweat from his face and neck. It really was very hot inside the old drying room. Or rather, it really was hot inside his thick woollen suit whilst standing inside the old drying room. It was like being inside an oven that was inside another oven.
‘From that day to this, I think Matthew has learned to hide his fascination with death. Now, imagine what happens when a child who’s already learned to hide his obsession with the macabre is sent to the other side of the world to a boarding school where he knows no-one. I think the shock of suddenly being abandoned like that – even if Matthew had thought it was a good idea at the time – is something that he never quite overcame. Having to cope on his own. Having to shut down his feelings because he had no-one to share them with. And, like anyone who tries to repress their feelings, I think those dark feelings grew inside him like a cancer.
‘And to make matters worse, as Matthew told us himself, at Eton he was now surrounded by Maharajahs and millionaires. Baronets and billionaires. And I think that Matthew felt as though he should fit in, but he didn’t. After all, he might have been the son of a Lady, but she’d run away years ago, and he had no title himself. And while his family had once been rich, they were now poor. In Eton terms at least. Even more tellingly, his real parents had abandoned him as a baby and he was now being raised by his uncle and aunt. And, not to put too fine a point on it, I can’t imagine he ever told his Etonian friends that his adoptive mother was a one-time holiday rep from Maldon.
‘I think Matthew’s five years at Eton took him from being a disturbed child and turned him into a very disturbed adult. That’s why he wrote to Freddie every year. I think he was desperately trying to understand who he was by making contact with the man who’d made him. But Freddie – his own biological father, remember – continued to reject him. Year after year.’
As Richard said this, he went over to the ledge to the window and picked up a pile of paper he’d placed there earlier. Each A4 piece of paper was a scanned copy of one of Matthew’s letters.
‘But we should be grateful for the fact that Matthew sent his letters every year on his birthday. Because now we’re closing in on the dark heart of this case. The secret that Lucy told Matthew, which meant that she and Freddie had to die. But I wouldn’t have got there if it hadn’t been for the diligence of Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey.’
Richard went back to the window and picked up another printout.
‘Because Camille decided that she was going to track down Matthew’s mother, Lady Helen Beaumont, née Moncrieff. After all, it seemed so suspicious that she’d vanished so thoroughly off the earth. Especially now that her children had grown up. So where exactly did she get to when she left you that day? And why hasn’t she resurfaced since then? Well, I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t turned up since then because she died on the same day she walked out on you all.’
The family took a few moments to digest this. Richard could see that in some ways they weren’t surprised, but there was still a deep grief to Tom as he turned to the Police and asked what had happened.
‘She committed suicide,’ Camille said as kindly as she could. ‘On the train journey back to her parents. She stopped at a station and stepped in front of a train. It would have been instant.’
‘Do you know why?’ Hugh asked.
‘It’s hard to know for sure after all this time. But I think she maybe realised that she was doing the wrong thing. Her parents had cut her off years before. They’d made it clear that they never wanted to see her again. So she was already dead to them. I think this meant she realised she couldn’t go forward. And she already knew she could never go back. She was trapped. With no money. No family. And I think that that’s when she decided to do what she did.’
‘And although we’ll never know all the details, we do know for sure that that’s the day she died because we have the Police report of her death,’ Richard said, holding up a copy of the report from the Winchester Police. ‘And here at the very top it says that your mother died on the thirteenth of June, 1999. The date didn’t register as being important to me at first. But then I realised what was wrong with it.’
Richard held up the photocopies of Matthew’s letters to Freddie.
‘Because here we have the letters Matthew wrote to Freddie. And rather fortunately for us – if not for Matthew – they’re written on the same day each year. Matthew’s birthday. Which is on the fifteenth of June. And, as Hugh told us, Matthew was born in 1999, so that means that Matthew was born on the fifteenth of June, 1999. Which is impossible when you think about it. So Matthew, can you please tell me how your mother managed to give birth to you two days after she’d already died?’
Matthew’s mouth twitched, his eyes shining with a terrifying intensity. Richard turned to face Rosie.
‘And this is the secret that Rosie has kept for all these years. Isn’t that right, Rosie? Because, when you arrived in London, it wasn’t Lady Helen who you discovered was pregnant, was it? It was her twelve-year old daughter, Lucy.’
Very slowly, Rosie nodded.
‘That’s right,’ Richard said. ‘Lucy’s not just Matthew’s sister. She’s also his mother. And it was kept a secret from Matthew his whole life.’
Again, Rosie nodded.
‘But the story doesn’t end there, does it? Because you also know who the father of her baby was, don’t you?’
Rosie didn’t move. She didn’t dare move.
‘Don’t you, Rosie?’
Rosie mumbled something that was hard to hear.
‘Who was it, Rosie? Who was the person who’d made the twelve-year old Lucy Beaumont pregnant?’
‘Freddie,’ Rosie said in a hoarse whisper. ‘It was her own father. Freddie Beaumont.’
There was a gasp from Sylvie, and everyone turned to look at Matthew. Fury was burning in his eyes.
‘Go on, Rosie,’ Camille said.
Rosie tried to focus on her story.
‘It took me years to find out the truth. Although I think I’d maybe come to suspect – seeing how Lucy never forgave Freddie. How she continued to hate him. And then, she told me one day. How Freddie had raped her. His own daughter. And she’d never told anyone. No-one apart from me.’
‘Thank you,’ Camille said.
‘But that was years later,’ Rosie said, trying to get her testimony over with as quickly as possible. ‘That first time I arrived in the UK, all I could see was that it wasn’t Helen who was pregnant, it was her daughter Lucy. Helen admitted that she’d lied to Grandfather William on Saint-Marie that she was about to have her third child. And now I was there, she wanted me to stay until Lucy had given birth and then I had to promise to get the children out to Grandfather William in the Caribbean. I had to get them away from Freddie. That’s what she told me. Especially Lucy. I now understand why, but I didn’t at the time. Anyway, that’s what she made me promise that day. That I’d tell anyone who asked that the new baby was in fact Helen’s, and not Lucy’s. And that I’d get the children out to the safety of Saint-Marie. And I could see how worried Lucy was. How scared. And I had no problems saying yes. I said I’d stay for the birth. And then I’d help her get the children out to Saint-Marie. But once I’d said I wouldn’t let her down, that’s when she got up and walked ou
t of the house. And I never saw her again. Just like I told you.’
‘So Helen really did walk out on her family on the day you arrived?’
‘The very same day. The thirteenth.’
‘And when was Matthew born?’
‘Two days later. On the fifteenth. Just like you said. In Queen Elizabeth’s hospital in Woolwich. I’ll never forget it. I held Lucy’s hand the whole time. She was amazing that day. So brave. So young.’ Rosie took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘And afterwards, after the birth, Lucy held her baby in her arms, and then she handed him to me. And as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this little baby was blameless. Lucy was blameless. I would save them both. And Tom of course. I’d save all three children. Just as soon as Helen returned.
‘But she never did. So I told Lucy that I’d promised to take her, her new baby and Tom out to visit Grandfather William in Saint-Marie, and that Helen’s plan was that we should continue to tell everyone that the baby was Helen’s. I think Lucy would have agreed to anything at that point. She was so confused. So upset. And as for Tom, he was only four years old and still too young to work out what was really going on. Lucy and Helen had kept Lucy’s pregnancy from him. But I acted as a go-between for William and Freddie while we sorted out passports for baby Matthew. And made sure that the three children remained healthy and well. And in all that time, Helen never came back. Never made contact. And you’re saying it’s because she took her own life?’
Death Knocks Twice Page 27