Fifth Member

by Claire Rayner

  The old eyes filled with tears and her thick glasses misted so that she had to take them off and rub them clear. ‘And I always promised myself I’d deliver her.’

  She was silent for a moment, seeming almost exhausted by the great tide of talk that had overwhelmed her. George sat and watched her and then looked at Marietta, once more to dig into her memory for whatever it was that was bothering her, but couldn’t find it. There was something she had been told, and by this woman. It was getting late, she thought. Concentrate.

  ‘Still,’ Nanny said cheerfully then. ‘There’s always Lady Dur-leigh, isn’t there?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Barbara, her name is. Lady Durleigh. She doesn’t have much to do with things, either at the Abbey or on the estate, not like our Mr Edward, being she’s a bit on the shy side, but she’d let me look after her, I’m sure. Not that we’ve ever talked about it, but I am almost family, aren’t I? When the time comes, she’ll agree. Poor thing. A widow and all, but at least she’s got something to remember my dear Mr Richard by. Oh, he was a lovely baby and I’m sure she’ll have a lovely boy too. That’s another of the newfangled things I don’t hold with. Knowing the baby’s sex before it’s born! It takes all the excitement out, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about her,’ George said. ‘No one seems to have mentioned her much. She’s Richard’s widow, of course –’

  ‘That’s right. She was away when – when it all happened. When my darling boys died. Oh, I was so glad she was. Gone to visit her mother see, in New Zealand. While she could, I suppose. She’d not told anyone as she was in the family way, though I suppose Richard, rest his soul, I suppose he knew. Anyway, she’s still there, and she told me, only said I should keep her secret a bit longer.’ She looked up sharply then, clearly troubled. ‘Oh dear, and here’s me telling you, a stranger! But you won’t say nothing, will you? It’s only me and her mother in New Zealand knows, and –’

  ‘Trust me,’ George said, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘I’m a doctor.’

  ‘Yes, o’ course.’ Nanny Lyons brightened. ‘Hippocratic oath, so that’s all right. I have my nurses’ code too; we don’t talk out of school neither. And she only phoned and told me she’s pregnant to cheer me up, I think. And it did, oh it did!’

  ‘I’m sure it would.’ George sighed as she caught sight of the clock above the bed. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Oh, must you?’ the old woman said and went a mottled pink. ‘Well, I’m sure you must, doctor, but it’s so nice to have someone to talk to who listens, you know? Mr Edward, he’s never got time and as for Mr Jasper’ – she shook her head – I never feel quite … well, never mind.’

  ‘Quite what?’ George was diverted.

  ‘Comfortable, I suppose,’ the old woman said after a pause. ‘He’s a funny person really.’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t say how, not really. I always think he’s a bit like Agag who came unto Samuel delicately, puttting on a show, like.’

  ‘Agag?’ George was bewildered now.

  Nanny Lyons sighed. ‘No one knows their Bible any more,’ she said almost reprovingly. ‘I was brought up on it. I don’t believe every mortal word, mind you, but there’s things in there, and it helps me understand.’

  ‘Agag?’ George said again with an upward inflection, wanting more information and Nanny Lyons sighed again, sharply this time.

  ‘First book of Samuel, chapter fifteen, verse thirty-two. King James’ version, of course.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ George’s head was spinning now, as the memory that had been tormenting her at last emerged, slowly and painfully. ‘I think you quoted the Bible to me last time I met you,’ she said carefully. ‘To do with the twins and their names.’

  ‘Eh? Oh, yes!’ Nanny Lyons laughed. ‘Genesis. Chapter thirty-eight, verses twenty-seven to thirty. It was Lady Durleigh, rest her sweet soul, who said we should have called them Pharez and Zarah, not me. But she was right, of course, not that it really mattered all that much. I mean, brothers are brothers, aren’t they? They always look out for each other.’

  For a moment George wanted to quote another story from Genesis, but she didn’t. Quite apart from the fact that unlike the old woman beside her she would not be able to quote chapter and verse, she didn’t want to alarm her. So she bit her tongue.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I must be on my way. I’ll be back to visit very soon, but I think you’ll find she’s safe now. And she’ll get better quickly. You will stay here, won’t you? You won’t call anyone or talk to anyone?’

  ‘Oh, I won’t.’ Nanny Lyons sounded fervent. She reached out and took Marietta’s flaccid hand again. ‘She’s my patient, isn’t she? Of course I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Not – not even – well, not any one,’ George said, and the old woman cocked her head at her.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said and then nodded and turned back to her contemplation of her patient. ‘I s’pose so.’

  And with that George had to be satisfied.

  34

  Back at the Bald Monk, George settled to the phone. People had to be told what had happened and be alerted to what Jasper was up to; and it had to be done fast. And by people she had to admit she meant Rupert Dudley. Who else was there she could enlist, after all? But she still felt unhappy about talking to him. Oh, Gus, she thought, where are you when I need you?

  First of all she phoned home to pick up any messages on the answerphone, manipulating the remote control that played them back in her usual impetuous fashion so that at first the wretched thing wouldn’t work. But at last it did. She listened impatiently to her own message to Gus, then held her breath, full of hope; and finally breathed out, miserable and angry with him. There should have been a message from him; why hadn’t he picked up hers? He had a remote control too; he could have done, and then he could have told her where to reach him.

  She slammed down the phone irritably, and sat there, gnawing her lower lip and at last, unwillingly, but knowing it was inevitable, dialled Ratcliffe Street nick, using the number of a line direct to the incident room. Roop, she was told, was not there. Could anyone else help? She wanted to cheer, and then was angry with herself for being so unreasonable.

  ‘Yes, is Mike Urquhart there?’

  ‘Sorry, no. He’s out too.’

  ‘Oh, damn,’ she said. And then in a moment of inspiration, ‘Julie Bentley?’

  This time she struck gold and Julie’s voice, welcome as a cold drink on a hot day, clattered in her ear. ‘Hello, Dr B. How are things?’

  ‘Extraordinary, Julie. You can have no idea. Listen, I have to report to Roop. Gus is away and I have to tell someone. I’ve found Marietta and –’

  ‘Marietta?’Julie sounded puzzled. ‘Was she lost?’

  ‘Oh, it’ll take too long to explain. All I can say is, if Roop comes in, please tell him I’m in Durleighton, that Marietta is here and that –’ She stopped then as a faint click sounded in her ear. She realized almost as soon as she heard it that it was probably just the earpiece had tapped the side of her glasses, but it had been enough to remind her to be careful. ‘Look, Julie, I’d better not say too much. This is a land line, but it’s on an extension and you never know. The thing is, I know who the murderer is. He’s been trying to kill Marietta, but I’ve got her safe now. I know what Sally meant when she talked about an Italian. So tell Roop, will you? Try to find out where he is and get a message to him. It really is important.’

  ‘This isn’t fair!’ Julie almost wailed it. ‘I’m trying to understand what you’re on about and you won’t –’

  ‘Oh, Julie, please don’t waste time! Try to find him. I’ll give you my number here and you get him to call me as soon as you track him down, OK? Then first chance I get I promise I’ll call you and let you know. But I’ll tell you this much, the – um – the job we first did together, remember, is all part of it. And the second job too. That’s where the answer lies. It’s someone involved with that.’

  Clearly Julie couldn
’t stop herself. ‘Alice?’ she breathed.

  ‘I told you, this phone’s on a switchboard in a hotel! I think we should be careful. So, do as I ask you, Julie, and call me back. But be careful. OK?’ And she hung up.

  All she could do now was sit and wait, and it was going to be difficult. She was prepared to fight every inch of the way with Roop to be allowed to stay on the chase, right at the front, until they’d got Jasper. She wanted to see him when he was arrested, wanted to talk to him if she could, to get the chance to find out the whys and wherefores of the killings.

  That he had been making a great deal of money out of the fashion scam was clear enough. That he thought it was worth killing to preserve it, once Sam Diamond found out what was going on – and that had been the springboard of the whole series of deaths – was understandable. But why all the others? And why, above all, that method?

  The others, she thought, sitting and staring sightlessly at the phone, were killed because – and the pieces clicked neatly into place in her mind – because Jasper was Alice’s partner on the legal side. After all, Alice’s business was an apparently kosher one; it had to be run legally, and she had used Sam’s status as an MP to provide public assurance that it was. And that had probably been the way Alice had met Jasper, through some Parliamentary shindig or other, which brought in the CWG connection. Was Edward gay? The fact that Lord Durnell had said so that night at the Country Sports Association reception at the House of Lords was, after all, meagre evidence it was so. He was a wicked old gossip, the sort who liked to invest every situation with drama. The fact that Edward was a bachelor with bachelor friends didn’t prove he was gay – and his particular bachelor friend was very much a womanizer, although, George told herself, that doesn’t prove anything, any more than Lord Durnell’s gossip did. Jasper could be the sort to hunt with either hares or hounds, whichever was the most profitable. So, possibly Edward was indeed homosexual, and that had been the heart of their relationship: the money or status Jasper got from whoever he was with. And she remembered how he behaved with the woman from Sloane’s shop. So he’d have been close to Alice too; she, Alice, had recruited Jasper to her scheme – or had it been the other way round? Had Jasper been the criminal who, seeing Alice’s business as a useful front for his own ideas, had scooped her up? It seemed possible. Either way, once his lover Edward found out and somehow let the information reach his brothers, that had been enough for Jasper to add them to his list of victims. As for the rest …

  Again she chewed her lip. This wasn’t working. There had been one dummy run, of that she was sure, she told herself. The killer had opted to get rid of Lord Scroop just to try out his method – but at the back of her mind a small voice argued; that’s not good enough, just plain not good enough. No one would go to that sort of risk just to practise, surely? It doesn’t make sense.

  ‘Does any of it make sense?’ she retorted aloud, arguing with herself rather absurdly. Why go to all the trouble of copying Jack the Ripper’s crimes if all you want to do is get rid of people?

  To make it look like a serial killer’s work, she thought then and stared sightlessly down at the bedside table where the frustratingly mute phone stood, trying to see her way round that idea. It made some sense, in a horrible way. If a series of crimes makes the police think, serial killer, then surely they don’t look at other possibilities. Like closer contacts, friends and families.

  The same words went round and round in her head; she couldn’t think clearly at all because of her anxiety, waiting for the call from Roop. Then her eyes, which had been glazed, focused again and she stared at the phone like a lovesick teenager who thought doing so would make it ring.

  It was an old-fashioned handset, and it stood on a book, a dark blue cloth-covered one. She took it out from beneath the phone, just for something to do; and then was about to put it back on the bedside table, for it was only that inevitable fitting of a hotel room, a Gideon Bible, when she stopped. What was it Nanny Lyons had said?

  She closed her eyes, staring back at her conversation with the old woman, trying to recreate the words in her mind. There had been two: one was about Agag walking delicately – well, that one wasn’t terribly important. It was the other that mattered. Genesis. She could remember that, could hear the old woman saying it. And she strained her memory again, praying it would work for her aurally as well as visually. Would her eidetic memory work for something she had heard?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, putting all her concentration on sound and then, slowly, there it was: Nanny Lyons’ cracked old voice saying, ‘Genesis. Chapter thirty-eight, verses twenty-seven to thirty.’

  She opened the Bible and leafed through the pages rapidly. At least she remembered that Genesis was the first book of the Old Testament; and she found it easily enough. Chapter thirty-eight: ‘It happened at that time that Judah went down from his brother’s …’

  ‘No,’ she said aloud. ‘Verse twenty-seven.’ And then she found it.

  27 When the time came for her to give birth, there were twin boys in her womb.

  28 As she was giving birth, one of them put out his hand; so the midwife took a scarlet thread and tied it on his wrist and said, ‘This one came out first.’

  29 But when he drew back his hand, his brother came out, and she said, ‘So this is how you have broken out!’ And he was named Perez.

  30 Then his brother, who had the scarlet thread on his wrist, came out and he was given the name Zerah.

  Slowly she put the book down and stared at the wall opposite, her head spinning. The language and name spellings were different in this Gideon version of the Bible – no doubt Nanny Lyons was accustomed to the King James translation – but it was obviously the right quotation, and it made all her other thinking about the case seem puerile. If the twins’ mother had thought it apt to say she would call her boys after the twins in this story, it meant only one thing. That one of them had been a hand presenter and then …

  ‘No!’ she said loudly. ‘Of course not. She told me what happened.’ And again she heard the old woman’s voice.

  ‘… the cervix was soft and a head engaged … But she just didn’t really get going … The babies’ hearts seemed to me to be showing foetal distress … I sent for the doctor … There wasn’t even time to get her to hospital! So he did it there at the Abbey.’ A Caesar.

  The mother of Edward and Richard had had a Caesar after the head of the first baby was well down in the pelvis. Which meant that the baby that emerged first from her body had been Richard, not Edward, who had been the leader in the birth canal. Extracting him would have been more difficult because his head was so far down, so of course he was delivered second. And that meant that the child who was born to be the heir was reversed from what would have been the case had the birth been a normal one.

  ‘Richard was the oldest by default,’ she whispered. ‘Edward should have been, but Richard was.’

  And Richard had inherited the Abbey and the title and the money – because what was it they had told her? That old Lord Durleigh had strong views about keeping the big estates together. Or was it Marietta’s father who had said that? Either way, it made no difference. The boy who should have been the heir was set aside for his brother.

  That changed everything. It gave a motive for all the killings – or all but one, she corrected herself. And maybe that one will make sense once we’ve understood all the others. David and Richard, of course, because David would know the facts about the twins’ birth (surely he would have been told sometime while he was growing up. Families often talk of such matters) and anyway – she remembered with a great rush of excitement – was working on a Bill to change the laws of inheritance altogether. If he succeeded, Edward might still lose his coveted place, even if he killed his brother Richard to get it. Sam Diamond probably for the original reason. He found out how money was being made illegally and was about to put a stop to it. The Bishop – and then her head felt as though it was about to burst and she reached again
for the phone to call Julie – only to pull back as she remembered that it was an extension.

  There had been phone boxes across the square, hadn’t there? She ran to the window and peered out and there they were, two rather forlorn boxes on the other side of the road. She grabbed her coat and purse and ran, pulling on her coat as she went. At the foot of the stairs the receptionist peered at her blankly as she went by, and then someone in the glass box called after her. But George just waved a hand and ran on.