Deception in the Cotswolds
Page 28
‘He was probably wrong there.’
‘Pardon?’
‘There was almost nothing physically wrong with Mr Davis. He was in pretty good shape for his age. He could have lived independently for several more years.’
‘But the tremor! The constipation! The general feebleness.’
‘He’d had the tremor for ages, and there was never any pathological reason for it. Some people do it for psychological reasons. It seems he was one of them. And his bowels were fine, just a bit bunged up in recent days. Nothing at all to worry about.’
‘The deceitful old bugger! And everybody believed him.’
‘He believed himself, probably.’
‘Had a doctor ever suggested he might have hysterical symptoms?’
‘Years ago, yes. It’s in his notes. Could be that’s what set him against the whole medical profession – they told him stuff he didn’t want to hear.’
She digested this new light, and found her sympathies tending in a surprising direction. ‘Poor Toby, then. He need never have done it.’
‘Nobody heard him confess to you?’
‘Not really. Even if they did, it’s still hearsay, isn’t it?’
‘Probably. What else did he tell you?’
‘He shaved Donny before he killed him. That was the final clue. I think he really did love him, you know. Maybe he even convinced himself that Donny was better off dead. That’s what he told me.’
‘But you don’t believe that. The old man wasn’t ready to die. I can’t just let it go, Thea.’
‘Of course not. No. But—’
‘A renewed surge of sadness was welling up, preventing any further talk.
The second call was from Harriet Young on Lindisfarne.
‘I’m coming back tomorrow evening,’ she said. ‘For Donny’s funeral.’
‘How did they get hold of you?’
‘Jemima knew where I was. She’s been keeping me updated on what’s happening.’
‘Oh. So I can go, can I? You won’t be wanting me any more.’
‘I’ll pay you the full amount, of course. You’ve probably had a much less peaceful time than you expected.’
‘You told me you couldn’t be contacted.’
‘I lied,’ said Harriet with a forced laugh. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh well,’ said Thea weakly. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter. Incidentally, I’ve been reading your book. Do you mind my asking whether Donny ever saw it?’
The reply was forceful. ‘Of course he didn’t. I was extremely careful to keep it out of his sight. He was already quite morbid enough without that.’
‘But wasn’t he exactly the sort of person it’s intended for?’
A sound like a stifled moan came down the line. ‘That’s very acute of you, I must say. And it’s precisely what a lot of people would think. Which meant I could have found myself in real trouble if anybody thought I’d been influencing him.’
‘But you want to influence people. Why else would you write a book like that?’
The moan came again, louder this time. ‘Good question,’ Harriet choked. ‘Which is why I’ve decided to withdraw it from sale. I’ve changed my mind, while I’ve been here. I’ve been terribly, terribly wrong.’
Thea heard an echo of her own inner conflicts of the past few days. ‘It’s not easy, is it – trying to estimate your effect on people?’
‘Right. And I don’t think I can carry the responsibility for what they might do to themselves. I mean – poor old Donny. I feel so dreadful.’
‘I know I shouldn’t tell you this. The police would be furious with me, but never mind. Harriet – Donny didn’t kill himself. He was murdered. I’m not sure whether it’ll ever come to court, but honestly, you don’t have to feel responsible.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t say any more. And please don’t talk about it when you get home. Just thank your stars you didn’t have anything to do with it.’ She let Harriet absorb this, before adding, ‘Oh, and just one more thing,’ she added, ‘while I’ve got you.’
‘Yes?’
‘Those paintings in the gallery. The De Morgans. Are they authentic?’
Harriet snorted. ‘Of course not, you idiot. I got them for five hundred quid the lot in a flea market. Who did you think they were by?’
‘Evelyn De Morgan. I suggest you have them looked at. You might be surprised.’
Harriet said nothing for a moment. Then, ‘You surprise me, Thea Osborne. Indeed you do.’
Thirdly, at seven o’clock, Drew phoned. She had taken his children for a drive and a little walk while he sat in the public gallery and listened to Gloucester County Council give outline approval for a four-acre natural burial ground just to the south of Broad Camden. He emerged at three-thirty, thanked her profusely and hurried home, where his real responsibilities lay.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked him now.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I can only stay a minute. Karen’s been taken into hospital.’
‘Good God! When?’
‘Lunchtime. Maggs thought she was out, but began to worry about it when she didn’t appear all morning, and went to look. It’s some sort of cerebral bleed, they think. She’s unconscious.’
‘Oh, Drew. How ghastly. Are the children OK?’
‘I haven’t told them properly yet. I’m hoping there’ll be some news this evening, after they’ve done the tests. Maggs is furious with me.’
‘Bother Maggs. It’s not your fault.’
‘If I’d been here, I would have seen something was wrong. We would have got her to hospital sooner.’
‘And then what?’
‘I don’t know. They think it’s too deep for surgery. It might have been there since she was shot, a bit of damage they never spotted.’
‘So it wouldn’t have made any difference if you’d been there, would it?’
‘Maybe not, but—’
‘Listen. I’m leaving here tomorrow. Harriet’s coming back for Donny’s funeral—’
‘Funeral?’
‘Right. It seems they organised it last week, without telling me. Anyway, if you like I can come and help out there. I can transport the children and answer the phone, and take some pressure off.’
He was silent for some seconds. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘Can’t you?’
‘You must see how it would look.’
‘I suppose so. But you shouldn’t waste a good friendship because of how it might look. Call me if there’s anything I can do. I can be your agent here, or something. There’s an idea! Don’t you think?’ She hoped she didn’t sound as if she was pleading. ‘I haven’t got any work until the end of July, in Snowshill. I’ll just be going mad with nothing to do. And I hope that’s far enough off the beaten track for nobody to have heard of me.’
‘Don’t rely on it. It’s hardly any distance from Broad Campden, if my geography serves me.’
‘I’ll change my name,’ she threatened.
He laughed briefly, and then said, ‘I must go, Thea. But thanks. I’ll call again sometime.’
‘Use the mobile. I don’t know where I’ll be. And Drew …’
‘Yes?’
‘It will all be all right. I promise you. You know that, don’t you?’
She could hear the sigh down the line. ‘It’ll have to be, won’t it?’ he said.
Down in the cellar of Hollywell Manor, a little egg began to rock, and a small crack appeared. But by the time the new gecko emerged blinking into the light, Thea Osborne had left Cranham for good.
By Rebecca Tope
A Cotswold Killing
A Cotswold Ordeal
Death in the Cotswolds
A Cotswold Mystery
Blood in the Cotswolds
Slaughter in the Cotswolds
Fear in the Cotswolds
A Grave in the Cotswolds
Deception in the Cotswolds
Grave Concerns
&n
bsp; The Sting of Death
A Market for Murder
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby Ltd in 2011.
This ebook edition first published in 2011.
Copyright © 2011 by REBECCA TOPE
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1035–5