The Lavender Lady

by Faith Martin

  And now that she came to think of it, it had been a warm night when Effie had first scented lavender in Claudia’s room. Corwin had even helped her open the window. Which is why, when the guest had first emptied their bath, the scent of the rising steam had managed to penetrate into the room.

  It took only moments for them all to arrive of course — all of them clearly having run as fast as possible, all protocols now firmly out of the window. Perhaps not surprisingly, Corwin and Mickey, being the fittest and fastest, were first to arrive, but Jean and Gisela, and the more portly Malc, were hot on their heels.

  Effie held up a hand, and they came to a quick halt. Malc instantly started filming the still visible steam.

  ‘Can you smell it?’ Effie asked quietly.

  ‘Yes, it’s very strong here,’ Corwin said, slowly edging closer.

  She could see that he was following the progress of the steam into the sky, and his eyes, which had been alight with interest and eagerness, were slowly dimming.

  And she felt her heart break a little for him.

  ‘I think it’s bath water from the inn next door,’ she said quietly. ‘There’s a drain just the other side of the hedge. And Claudia’s bedroom is right next to where the house joins the inn.’

  Corwin nodded wordlessly, his lips now pulled into a tight, thin line. He beckoned to Malc. ‘Film over the hedge, if you can. Get a good shot of the drain.’

  Malc obliged, managing to get a shot of where the steam was originating, and confirmed that it was indeed coming from the drain. She could clearly hear a collective groan of disappointment from the others behind her. Moreover, since the bath water had now run its course, the steam was evaporating, and the scent of lavender was going with it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Effie said quietly, making Corwin turn and look at her sharply.

  With the streetlight facing them, he was able to see her face clearly, and she his. The weird effect of the light and shadows gave his face a cavernous aspect, all sharp angles and pale and dark planes. And she couldn’t see the cat-green light normally present in his eyes.

  ‘Why? It’s not your fault,’ he said flatly.

  Effie shrugged miserably. ‘But you so wanted it to be something more, didn’t you? I saw the look on your face as you came running out. And the others were the same. You were hoping . . . well . . . to see a ghost.’

  Corwin shrugged fatalistically. ‘Sure we were,’ he admitted simply. By now the others were all muttering disconsolately among themselves, and Effie winced. ‘And yes, it’s bitterly disappointing,’ he agreed. ‘But that doesn’t mean that we’ll ever give up trying.’

  Effie nodded sadly. ‘Well, I’m sorry about the phone call. I shouldn’t have played that trick on you.’

  He frowned. ‘What trick?’

  ‘You know. Saying that I’d found the lavender lady. I could have just explained then and there. Not got your hopes up. The truth was that I was so relieved . . .’ She went on to tell him everything that had happened, freely admitting that, for a few moments there, she’d been badly frightened, and that it was the subsequent relief that had led to her lapse of judgement.

  ‘I didn’t mean to be cruel,’ she finished miserably. ‘Getting your hopes up was unforgivable. I’m really sorry.’

  Corwin looked at her, and saw she was literally hanging her head in shame.

  ‘Hey, we can take a joke!’ he said. ‘Besides, it would have taken you too long to explain it anyway. If you’d tried, we’d have wasted valuable time getting out here to see it for ourselves. As it is, we all got to experience it, and more importantly, we’ve got documentary evidence of the conditions and phenomena, so I can now write about it with confidence.’

  Effie nodded, not really mollified. ‘But it’s useless, isn’t it? For your next book, I mean.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Corwin said crisply. ‘It’ll make a good chapter. Sometimes, accurately reporting and explaining why a ghost sighting or haunting isn’t anything of the kind is just as important as documenting a genuine case.’

  ‘But not as satisfying.’

  ‘Of course not.’ He grinned. But in spite of his upbeat pep talk, Effie could sense that he was, inevitably, feeling dispirited and disappointed. ‘But then, I did warn you that almost every time these things have a rational explanation,’ he pointed out.

  Effie nodded. She knew he was right. What’s more, she knew it was stupid and irrational to feel so disappointed as well. After all, she was unsure whether she believed in ghosts, and she certainly didn’t have the same emotional investment in all of this as her new friends did.

  ‘I just wish I hadn’t been the one to discover the truth, that’s all,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Eff,’ Malc’s voice cut across the gloomy atmosphere. ‘You done good.’

  ‘Yes, well done, Effie,’ Jean said bracingly. ‘It may not be what we hoped for, but the truth is always a good thing to discover.’

  ‘And there’s still the cold spot,’ Gisela said stubbornly. ‘I’m more convinced than ever that that cold spot in the bathroom is important.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Corwin said flatly, ‘Mickey, get back and monitor it. Malc, I need you to finish up here. Continue to record the steam and document the moment the scent completely evaporates. I’m going to go next door and have a quiet word with the management. If they’ll agree, I want to write a brief note to each guest who has a room facing the front, asking them if they’d agree to speak to me. If they will, and I can pinpoint who it is who likes lavender so much, I can hopefully get a timetable of their bath times and confirm that each time either Isabel or we smelt lavender, it corresponds to when they’d just taken a bath.’

  Effie could only admire, yet again, his determination to be thorough. Not to mention his ability to bounce back after adversity.

  ‘Gisela, nip up to Claudia’s room and see if any scent is still detectable in there, then spend the rest of the night in the bathroom. Effie, I need you to finish your patrol, then back to the hall. OK, everyone?’

  Everyone nodded and dispersed. But Effie, knowing that she’d finished the first of her patrols, didn’t have the heart to go back inside the house just yet. Instead, she wandered morosely to the front gate and wandered a little way down the pavement towards the village green.

  Around her, Adderbury was closing down for the night. House lights were being extinguished, and even the cats seemed to be heading for hearth and home. She was just about to turn back towards the house when a shadow detached itself from beneath a horse chestnut tree and a solid, all-too-human figure loomed up in front of her.

  ‘Hello, Mrs James,’ Clive Carteret said grimly. ‘I’d like a word with you.’

  Effie’s heart rocketed into her mouth, and she took several stumbling steps backwards before the iron railings of someone’s garden boundary halted her. In the eerie orange glow of a nearby streetlight, Effie could see that he’d noted her reaction, and a furious look crossed his face.

  ‘Oh, hello, Mr Carteret,’ Effie finally managed to say, her voice, even to her own ears, sounding breathless and tense. ‘You gave me a bit of a fright.’

  ‘So I see,’ Clive said flatly. ‘An occupational hazard, perhaps? So, how is the ghost hunting going? Has Claudia been sending you any interesting ghostly messages via the Ouija board?’

  ‘We don’t hold séances,’ Effie corrected automatically. But her mind was whirling. Why was he here? What did he want? Was she actually in danger — should she scream?

  ‘No? You surprise me. I thought all self-respecting vengeful spirits liked to vent their spleen on such things.’

  Effie managed an uncertain smile. She knew that Malc would still be documenting the evidence in Claudia’s front garden for some time yet, and so was well within shouting distance. And the thought of having his burly, capable presence come running if she called for help gave her some much-needed confidence. So even though her heart was still thumping in her chest, and she felt vaguely sick, she also bega
n to calm down. And think.

  ‘And what makes you suppose that your grandmother-in-law’s spirit would be feeling vengeful, Mr Carteret?’ she asked, glad to hear that her voice had now lost some of its tremulous quality.

  ‘My sister called me yesterday,’ Clive said abruptly. ‘She told me about your visit to her shop. I have to say, it rather got me thinking.’

  Effie swallowed hard. ‘Oh?’ Try as she might, she was unable to come up with another sentence.

  ‘Yes. She told me that you seemed to be very interested in our childhood.’

  ‘Oh no. We just got chatting, as you do,’ Effie demurred weakly.

  ‘Which I thought was a bit strange,’ he carried on, just as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘So after I pumped her a bit, I began to see exactly which way your mind was leaning. And I didn’t like it. Not one bit. You’re a clever little bitch, aren’t you?’ he added softly.

  Effie blinked. ‘What?’ she gasped, feeling a little shocked at the unexpected and explicit insult. Was he actually admitting to it? Why? Why be so stupid? And did that mean she’d actually been right? No, that couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening. Effie had often heard the phrase ‘the mind boggles’ but until that moment, she’d never really understood what it meant. Because, for a few seconds, it was as if her brain couldn’t seem to get itself into any kind of gear. It was as if she could actually feel her mental wheels skidding for some kind of purchase.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mrs James, been reading too many whodunits? Too much time on your hands, is that the problem?’ he sneered. ‘Were you so bored you thought you’d just stick your nose in where it didn’t belong and do a spot of private investigating? Very Miss Marple! Well, let me give you a lesson in reality, lady,’ he snarled. ‘There’s not a damn thing that you can prove, got it? Jasmine’s not so good with her record keeping. She didn’t even notice that some of her stock was gone. And I was careful to wear gloves at all times.’

  Effie swallowed hard. ‘Are you . . . Let me just get this straight. You did use your sister’s lab equipment to make a batch of St John’s wort pills, then? And put some kind of poison in them?’

  ‘Very good, Mrs James,’ Clive said mockingly. ‘Tell me, I’m curious. Any idea what it might have been?’ He sounded almost amused now. Clearly, he was so sure of himself that he regarded her as no kind of threat whatsoever.

  Effie took a slow, deep breath. This was surreal. This conversation was just . . . beyond her.

  ‘Well, I thought,’ she began hesitantly, ‘since Claudia had a heart condition . . . some kind of foxglove derivative?’ But even as she spoke, her brain was shrieking at her: Just what do you think you’re doing, calmly discussing the ins and outs of murder with a madman? Just run, you stupid woman! Run!

  ‘Oh, now you are impressing me,’ Clive continued hatefully. ‘And you’re quite right, of course.’

  Effie’s feet felt like lead and seemed rooted to the spot, so running was out of the question. What’s more, it was as if she was in the grip of some compulsion that wouldn’t let her stop asking questions.

  ‘And then, the next time you were at Claudia’s house, you swapped them with the harmless pills she got from your sister?’

  ‘Again, you’ll never prove it,’ Clive said. ‘The old cow is dead and buried and nobody suspects a thing. Why should they? And there’s no way you’ll be able to get an exhumation order. Nobody will believe you if you go around spouting your fantastical-sounding little theories,’ Clive taunted. ‘I know about you. That poor Mrs James, they’ll say. Losing her husband really shook her up, didn’t it? Still, she’s at a funny age in life, isn’t she? Did you hear the latest? She’s now going around with a bunch of loonies looking for ghosts, and saying some poor chap murdered his wife’s grandmother. I can hear them laughing at you now.’

  Effie went hot, then cold, but said nothing. Because, finally, she understood what this was all about. Clive Carteret was trying to scare her into silence. To play on her insecurities, and perhaps even threaten her life if she talked.

  ‘Jasmine will never testify against me,’ Clive continued remorselessly. ‘And Ros will stand by me, which means that Izzie will too. And after I’ve sued you for defamation and anything else that my solicitors can think of, your name will be mud. And you won’t be such a well-heeled widow anymore.’

  Ah, not a threat to her life then, Effie thought, with a mixture of relief and . . . was that almost amusement? Just a threat to her social standing — and her financial well-being. Which, once upon a time, might really have worried her. But now . . .

  ‘So I just thought I’d point out where things really stand, before you go and do something you’ll regret,’ he finished viciously.

  Effie slowly nodded. ‘I see.’

  Clearly, he didn’t know that Izzie had given Claudia’s tainted pills to Annie. Why would he? Izzie had told everyone that she’d thrown all her mother’s personal things — like toiletries — away. So he was wrongly assuming that any solid evidence against him was now long gone. If he had known how things truly stood, he would not be so damned confident, she thought, beginning to feel angry now.

  ‘Glad that you do,’ Clive said. ‘So, it’s all settled then?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Effie said faintly. ‘It’s settled. But there’s just one thing I’m not so sure of. Did you kill Claudia because of the baby issue? Or because of the money thing?’

  Clive looked surprised, then laughed. ‘Who cares about brats?’ he snapped. ‘I’ve told Ros we don’t need them and she agrees with me.’

  Effie nodded. ‘I see. It was that threat Claudia made to the councillor that did it then, wasn’t it? The one you bribed to vote for your latest housing project?’

  ‘My my, you have been a busy little bee, haven’t you? And again, you’re quite right of course — that’s why the meddlesome old sow had to go. We had a blazing row about it.’

  That would be the argument that Mary Coles had overheard, Effie thought.

  ‘Mind you, she’d been getting on my wick for years,’ Clive swept on. ‘I was never good enough for Ros, never top drawer enough to be counted as a member of her family. I told her straight, I made more money than that late sainted husband of hers ever dreamed of.’

  ‘I don’t imagine that impressed her much,’ Effie heard herself say dryly.

  Clive laughed. ‘No, it didn’t,’ he agreed. ‘Nothing about me impressed her, it seems. Not that I cared one whit — she could gnash her teeth about me as much as she liked. Put me down, drip her vitriol into my ear — it was all water off a duck’s back to me. But when she threatened my business . . .’

  ‘You decided she had to go, and so you killed her,’ Effie finished flatly.

  ‘Like I said,’ he repeated, quick as a flash, ‘there’s no way you’ll ever prove any of it. And if you try, my legal team will tie you up in knots. You’ll be in court for years. I’ll have every last penny off you, and your reputation will be in tatters. I mean it.’

  ‘I believe you,’ Effie said.

  ‘Fine. That’s it then. Oh, one more thing — I want you and that Scooby-Doo gang of yours out of the house. Tell Izzie that her dear departed mama isn’t haunting her after all, and pack up your cameras and gizmos and just go.’

  ‘That’s not up to me,’ Effie said stubbornly.

  Clive merely shook his head, said something foul and turned and walked away.

  And Effie simply stood there and watched him go. She felt . . . curiously unafraid. Mostly numb. A little cold. And vaguely perplexed. What on earth had got into her?

  She realized, of course, that she was probably going into shock. A man, after all, had just admitted that he was a cold-blooded, premeditated killer.

  That sort of thing just didn’t happen. Did it?

  Feeling as if her legs were about six feet long, Effie turned and walked unsteadily back to the house. Once there, she made her way to her chair in the hall and slumped down with some relief, pulling her coat closer around her for
warmth.

  And, in the darkness, she closed her eyes, and after a little while, fell asleep.

  When she awoke, it was light. And she remembered clearly everything that had happened last night, but thankfully, now the shock was gone. She had simply slept it off.

  Around her the house was beginning to stir.

  And Effie finally began to think, clearly, rationally and carefully — very carefully indeed. And after ten minutes, she got up and walked to Claudia’s bedroom. There she knocked on the door and walked in.

  Corwin looked up at her curiously from his position in the chair by the window.

  ‘Hello.’ He checked his watch. ‘Vigil’s not quite over yet.’

  ‘I know,’ Effie said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. But first, you’d better listen to this.’

  And so saying, she brought out the digital recorder in her pocket — the sensitive, powerful device that had been turned on all night. The recorder that had faithfully captured every word that Clive Carteret had said to her.

  * * *

  Corwin had really wanted to go with her, but she wouldn’t let him. It was something that she needed to do on her own — to prove to herself that she was fully capable of looking after herself now. That she didn’t need Michael or anyone else to hold her hand when times got rough.

  And she hadn’t gone to the police station thinking that they were going to welcome her with open arms. She wasn’t that naive. She knew it was going to be tough, and it was.

  At first she was shown into an interview room where she talked to someone junior. And after giving her initial statement and then waiting nearly an hour, she’d had to go over it all again with a more senior officer. The questions had become sharper, harsher and more probing as time went on. Occasionally Effie felt as if she herself was coming under suspicion of something. Once or twice she felt as if they were questioning her mental state.

  But she stuck calmly and clearly to her narrative.

  And at least she was armed not only with a copy of the recording between herself and Clive Carteret (Malc having made several copies for her) but also with the lab test results of the pills given to her by Annie Darville. Which did indeed confirm that a digitalis-based compound had been added to the St John’s wort. And she was reasonably confident that any medical doctor or chemist would agree that it would have been enough to kill, over time, someone with a pre-existing heart condition and someone already taking medication such as digoxin.