Harry had told her so much about his aunt – but not how striking she was.
Tall, like Harry, with a kind of languor about her movements.
Her hair was dark and fashionably short – with the type of kiss curls you’d normally see on a younger woman. Her clothes elegant, her face sharply defined, with high cheek bones and barely any make-up.
She looks like… like a… leopard, thought Kat.
Lavinia stopped suddenly – clearly shocked to see Harry – and then even more shocked to see the body at their feet.
“Oh my,” said Lavinia, focusing the torchlight on the body, then taking Harry’s hand as if to steady herself. “Poor boy. Is he… dead?”
“Afraid so,” said Harry. “You know him?”
Kat watched Lavinia lean closer, then pull back quickly.
“Oh God – it’s Coates. My driver.”
“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “Any idea what happened?”
“Heard a gunshot. From the look of things, I think Cousin Reggie shot him,” said Lavinia, looking up at the still-lit bedroom window above. “As to why? I have absolutely no idea.”
“I think perhaps I do,” said Harry. Kat watched as he took out a handkerchief, crouched down by the body, reached into the man’s jacket pocket… and gently pulled out an ornate diamond necklace.
As he stood – the jewellery sparkled and shimmered in the light from the house. Kat heard a gasp from the small crowd of onlookers behind her.
“Extraordinary,” said Lavinia.
“That’s not all,” said Harry, nodding towards the flowerbed. And now, Kat could see the light catching other pieces, scattered on the ground: single jewels, bracelets, rings…
The man must have held them clutched in his hand as he fell.
Kat watched Harry fold the handkerchief with the necklace and place it in his trouser pocket. Then he took off his jacket and gently placed it over the body.
After a few seconds, he rose and faced the small group of onlookers, in their evening dress, who now pressed closer.
“There’s nothing we can do for him now,” he said, gently ushering Lavinia’s guests away from the crime scene. “I suggest we all move back to the house and telephone for the police.”
Kat watched Lavinia and the group turn and walk towards the brightly lit portico of the great house. Then Harry put his arm back around her shoulder and they followed.
“Harry. I really did hear six shots,” said Kat, quietly.
“Oh, I believe you did,” said Harry. “Numbers are a strong suit with you.”
“Odd, don’t you think?”
“Very. We’ll get you a hot bath and a whisky later and talk about that, eh? But in the meantime…” Harry looked at the crowd walking in. “Let’s, um, keep that to ourselves for now, hmm?”
Kat nodded.
Having that same instinct.
*
“Darling Harry,” Lavinia said once the other guests had gone back into the house, leaving just the three of them waiting for the police on the elegant stone steps. “It’s a joy to have you home again. But what on earth were you doing in the garden?”
“Oh dear. Did you not receive my telegram? Got rather bored in Marseilles, so we loaded up the old Alvis and set a course for England so I could…” he paused, still blinking in the light “…introduce you to my wife.”
Lavinia turned and stared at Kat.
That look. Not terribly warm, Kat thought.
Was it the missing shoes? The mud?
Or amidst all the elegant gowns – her pants?
Um, trousers, she reminded herself.
In the bright electric light, Kat looked down at her ripped, muddied and tattered clothes, then swapped the one remaining shoe from her right to her left hand.
A wipe on her jacket.
“Lovely to meet you, Lady Lavinia,” Kat said, hoping she’d remembered the correct way to address Harry’s aunt, and holding out her hand. She saw Lavinia inspect it, as if she’d offered her some kind of wet fish, before finally taking it.
“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure,” said Lavinia, though Kat suspected the welcome was being delivered through clenched teeth.
The awkward moment was saved by the sound of a jangling bell approaching.
Back in the Bronx that sound would have meant the ice-cream guy was coming. But Kat knew from her time in Cairo that British police cars played bells, not sirens.
She stood next to Harry and watched the car’s lights approaching through the trees, shadows flickering across the dark lawn.
“Not quite the homecoming I’d imagined,” he said softly, as Lavinia stepped to one side to talk to a butler, who had emerged from the house.
“Me neither,” said Kat.
“Love the outfit, by the way,” he whispered. “You should wear straw more often.”
*
Harry watched his aunt calmly issue orders to Benton the butler, then hurry back to his side.
“Harry – would you mind helping me deal with this? Police and all that?”
From the look, Harry wasn’t sure the invite extended to his just-introduced bride. But he said, keeping his voice low, “Of course, Aunt Lavinia. Best your guests stay inside while we tend to things, yes?”
He looked at Kat, meaning: This means you too, kid.
Lavinia nodded. “I do believe – despite the unfortunate event – the extended cocktail hour will keep them engaged. And there’s no shortage of things to chatter about now, that’s for sure.”
With a final look at her guests, all muttering to each other as Benton led them back to the reception room with a fresh tray of drinks, Lady Lavinia stepped forward as the police car pulled up, with a slide of gravel, at the entrance to Mydworth Manor.
*
Kat watched the two officers step out of the car and approach Harry’s aunt, their faces appropriately grim.
One on the tall side, portly with a well-tended moustache. The other, shorter and significantly thinner, and sporting a miniature replica of the same moustache.
“M’lady,” the portly one said, “we came soon as possible.”
“Yes, very brisk, Sergeant.” Lavinia turned to look back to where Kat and Harry stood, just a step behind. “This is my nephew, Sir Harry Mortimer, and his wife, um, Lady Mortimer.”
She had trouble getting that one out, Kat noted.
The sergeant stared at Kat, clearly thrown by her appearance.
Probably thinks I’m the gardener, thought Kat.
Then he recovered and tipped his hat, politely. “Sergeant Timms, sir, and” – the slightest nod to the other officer – “Constable Thomas.” For a moment, it seemed all were unsure exactly what to do next. “Now then, perhaps we’d better examine the victim?”
With a quick look to Harry, Lavinia tossed the ball to him.
“Er, yes,” he said. “This way. Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid.”
And Kat followed her husband as he led the local police to where the corpse lay.
*
Kat stood back and watched, as Harry removed his jacket from the body, and both the sergeant and his constable aimed their torches down, moving from bloodied head to foot and back again.
So strange, she thought, to be standing here next to a dead body.
Again, no-one said anything.
“And he is, m’lady?”
“Alfred Coates. My driver.”
Kat watched the constable lean down, looking genuinely curious.
As perhaps this might be the first body he’d ever seen.
“Shot in the head, m’lady,” the constable said, back to standing erect, announcing the discovery as if he had found a great prize.
“Apparently,” said Lavinia.
Sergeant Timms cleared his throat, took out a notebook and pen, and started to make notes.
“So. Alfred Coates? With an ‘e’ I assume?”
Kat saw Lavinia nod. The policeman was clearly trying her patience.
“Thank
you,” said Timms.
Then he continued. “From the” – he gestured at the body – “looks of things, hard to tell if it was the shot that killed him or the fall which ensued.”
Kat was tempted to point out that a bullet to the head is usually fatal.
But she held her tongue.
“Either way,” Lavinia said, waving at the air above the grim scene, “he is dead, poor fellow. And, well, this is all rather new to me. What do we do?”
Kat noticed that Harry, never at a loss for words, was staying rather quiet.
It was a side of him that she knew he brought to his work. Life was usually a romp for Harry, and a great one too, until things turned serious.
And then – he was a match for anything.
“We’ll call the coroner, m’lady. Roust him out of bed if need be. Have this dealt with. I’ll, um, need to speak to all and sundry, of course. Your guests. Find out exactly what happened.”
Harry’s voice came back into the conversation, low and direct.
“They’re all in there,” he said. “Including the man who shot him.”
“Ah. So, you’ve apprehended the culprit already?” said Constable Thomas.
“I’d hardly call Cousin Reggie a ‘culprit’,” said Lavinia.
“Reggie?” said Timms.
“If I may,” said Harry, “the, er, victim was shot by one of my aunt’s guests, Lord Tamworth, while apparently climbing out of,” Harry pointed up the second floor, “that window.”
Timms nodded, jotting down more notes as Harry continued.
“While carrying these.”
At this, Kat saw Harry remove the handkerchief from his pocket and unfold it, to reveal the diamond necklace.
“They were in Coates’s jacket pocket.”
Timms looked at the jewels, mouth open. “Right.”
“More jewellery scattered all around the body,” said Harry. “From the fall.”
“I see.”
“I expect you’ll be putting a man on guard duty, soon as, sergeant, yes?”
“Sir?” said Timms. “Ah, yes, of course. Make sure nothing gets touched during the night.” He fired a look and a nod at Constable Thomas. “We’ll first need to ask questions, um… take names—”
Kat thought that the sergeant sounded as if he was making up the rules of this evening as he went along.
Lavinia took a step towards the man.
“Oh, thank you, Sergeant. It’s a dreadful business. Very distressing for everybody. But I totally understand, you must do what you must.”
“Thank you, m’lady. I shall have to ascertain of course the full course of events. How your driver came to be… er… hanging from the upstairs window. And why it was deemed… umm… necessary to shoot him. Constable Thomas and I will meanwhile get on the car radio and, as I said—”
“I know. The coroner.”
Lavinia stepped over to Harry and Kat, and gestured to the great stone steps that led into the manor house.
“Shall we?”
And while the two policemen hurried to the police car, still with its glaring lights on, Lady Lavinia walked with Harry and Kat back to the house.
*
Kat crossed the threshold of Mydworth Manor for the first time and took in the amazing interior. Black and white marble floor tiles stretched for twenty or thirty feet in every direction. Above her head hung a massive chandelier, sparkling with electric lights.
And ahead, a grand double staircase with polished handrails rose to a first-floor gallery and presumably led to who-knows-how-many corridors of bedrooms beyond.
On the walls, Kat saw ancestral portraits. In some, the likeness to Harry was instantly clear – those dark, piercing eyes.
A young maid stood at the foot of the stairs.
Kat could see the girl had been crying – her eyes red and bloodshot. She watched as Lavinia went over to her, said a few quiet words, then handed over her shawl. The girl nodded, gave a weak smile, then slipped away through a door that Kat guessed led below stairs.
Years ago, back in Manhattan, Kat herself had worked on the staff of a wealthy New York family.
She could imagine the shock the sudden violent death of a fellow servant must be causing.
“Harry,” said Lavinia, turning back to Harry and touching his wrist. “Stay close to Sergeant Timms, would you? See what he learns?”
“Glad to, Aunt Lavinia,” said Harry, nodding. “Kat too, of course.”
Kat saw Lavinia’s eyes widen – as if Harry had suggested they all go peel off their clothes and dance in the fountain.
Now there’s an idea, she thought.
“Both of you?” said Lavinia. “I mean, are you sure that’s appropriate?”
“Absolutely,” said Harry, grinning. “Oh and, I wonder, it seems, what with the Dower House all locked up, and trunks not coming back till Monday, we’re rather short of a bed for the night—”
“Of course! I’ll have the housekeeper provide you and—”
There, thought Kat, she’s stumped. Whatever will she call me?
“–your… wife… with a room. And a change of clothes, perhaps?”
This, thought Kat, is going to be a tough one.
Lady Lavinia clearly loved Harry, and she knew that Harry felt the same.
Now the task will be for me to find a way into all that.
But then – I do like challenges.
Kat chose to answer, “Thank you, Lady Lavinia. That is so kind.”
Lavinia answered, her voice dead earnest. “I would not have it any other way. And please,” a look to Harry, ”do call me ‘Lavinia’.”
And now was the time.
“I’m Kat. Short for Katherine”
“How terribly… modern.”
So far, talking to Lavinia was more like playing tennis.
“Ah, Sergeant Timms,” she said, stepping away from them and gliding across the marble floor towards the front door, where Kat saw the policeman had reappeared.
She watched him brush his feet on the immense doormat, then take off his hat and lay it gingerly on a small table.
Probably not the usual house he entered in his line of work.
“The guests are through here, Sergeant,” said Lavinia, gesturing towards a set of doors that Benton had opened wide. And then they all walked into the great reception room, the murmur of voices reaching the foyer, accompanied by the rattling of ice in glasses.
6. The Man Who Fired the Gun
For a moment, Harry waited while his aunt went over to the butler to arrange things.
He could see the guests standing in a small group at the far end of the great reception room – no doubt talking about the extraordinary events of the evening.
Harry nodded a greeting to one or two who acknowledged him – though he didn’t recognise any of the faces as being local.
London friends of Lavinia’s, no doubt, he thought. So much for their peaceful weekend jaunt in the country.
Then, before joining the sergeant, he turned to Kat. “At least we have a place to sleep tonight, hmm?”
She smiled.
Taking this all in good spirits, he thought.
“Though – not quite the cosy night in I’d imagined,” Harry said.
“No. And definitely not – what’s the word? – the ‘staid’ old England I’d imagined.”
“Ah, yes. Well, you’ll learn that where my aunt is involved, staid is never the problem.”
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“Well, probably not. Yet. She is English, of course. Such a thing as liking people does take some time over here. Only just met you and all that, right? But I think, in time, you will have more in common with her than you’d believe.”
He saw Kat gesture towards the sergeant, who pulled a small black notebook out of his back pocket.
“I think the ‘investigation’ is about to begin,” she said. “We’ll just go tag along with him, shall we?”
Harry nodded, and saw the serg
eant have another word with Lady Lavinia, who now pointed at a man and a woman, sitting close together on an ornate love seat, red brocade and gold thread catching the sparkling light of the brilliant chandeliers overhead.
The sergeant nodded as he slowly walked over.
The two people, hands interlocked, sat forward, looking shell-shocked.
Harry knew who they were, although he’d only met them once, so many years ago at a family funeral.
Cousin Reggie and his wife Claudia. Lord and Lady Tamworth.
He gave a small nod to Kat, and then, casually – as if only mildly curious – the two of them walked over to the couple, who only now looked up at the barrel-chested police sergeant standing right in front of them.
*
Sergeant Timms didn’t seem to mind – Kat thought – that she and Harry had come close behind him, with Lavinia also hovering nearby as well.
“Um, Lord and Lady Tamworth, yes?” said Timms. “So terrible what has happened. But there’s just a few questions I need to ask you both tonight, if you don’t mind.”
Kat watched the wife – Lady Tamworth – sinewy, tall, with dark hair stylishly cropped. Her eyes, though, wide with whatever horror she had just seen.
But she looked to her husband, Lord Tamworth to reply.
Not quite a visual match for her. Sitting on the loveseat, Reggie seemed on the smallish side. But his eyes also looked wide, as if he too were still reeling from the shock.
Not every day you shoot a man while he’s climbing out your bedroom window.
“Of course,” Reggie said. “Absolutely.”
“Um, perhaps you can tell me what exactly happened here tonight?”
“Sergeant, yes, well, you see, it was just before dinner. We were all having drinks, down here. Must have been around a quarter past eight. At some point my wife told me she had to return our room briefly.”
“Was nothing, really,” said Claudia. “But if I hadn’t gone back—”
Lord Tamworth quickly patted her hand.
“There, there.” Then he looked back up at the police officer.
“I carried on chatting to people – you know? Decent crowd, Lady Lavinia’s friends. Everyone having a perfectly genial evening, nothing out of the ordinary. Anyway, Benton announces dinner, and, well, I realise Claudia’s not yet down, so I pop back up see if everything’s all right—”
Mydworth Mysteries - A Shot in the Dark (A Cosy Historical Mystery Series Book 1) Page 4