by Leo McNeir
“We’d never be able to trace them, would we?” said Anne. Her expression was desolate. “They’d leave no trail to follow.”
Marnie said, “What if someone he knew was out to get him, someone he hadn’t mentioned? He was a very secretive man.”
“We need to know who that might’ve been, Marnie,” said Roger.
“We can ask Donovan if he has any ideas,” Anne said. “He was with Mr Dekker a lot these past few days. Perhaps he might’ve mentioned someone when they talked.”
“Yeah.” Marnie sounded unconvinced.
“Don’t be in any doubt, Marnie,” Roger said. “I’ll do everything I can to help you, but if we can’t find another suspect, we’ve got a problem.”
“It would be a complete miscarriage of justice,” said Marnie. She attempted a smile. “I could become the Knightly St John One.”
Anne put a hand on her arm. “They’ll have me down as your accomplice,” she said. “So we’d be the Knightly St John Two.”
*
It was Bartlett’s decision. He agreed that Marnie and Anne could return home pending further enquiries and the autopsy report. He initially set the condition that they remain at Glebe Farm, but relented when Roger pointed out that that amounted to virtual house arrest, and Marnie had a living to earn.
Marnie’s Discovery and Roger’s Saab drove in convoy back to Glebe Farm. Roger declined the offer to stay for supper, pleading a prior engagement with a gin and tonic in London, but he accepted a cup of coffee in the office barn. They discussed the situation and found they had nothing to add to what they had explained to the police. Marnie wondered out loud if Maurice might have committed suicide, but quickly dismissed the idea. If anything, he had seemed more positive than before, improving slightly and looking forward to seeing Donovan again.
Roger tried to put an optimistic slant on the situation, but no-one was convinced that Marnie’s position was anything but bleak. When he left, he kissed Marnie and Anne on the cheeks and told them things could only get better. He did his best to sound as if he meant it. His departure left a chill in the air.
Chapter 53
Next of Kin
There would be no tootling on Sunday. Marnie and Anne gravitated to the office barn after breakfast to tidy up the affairs of the previous week and prepare for the next. Although they loved their work, an atmosphere of gloom pervaded the office that morning.
Anne emptied the waste-paper baskets and opened the door to take the rubbish bags out, moving aside to let Dolly stroll in, head and tail held high. It was mid-morning on a fine spring day, and far off Anne could hear the church bells faintly chiming for matins. Even to an agnostic they were the comforting sound of tradition and decent values. Anne turned her head to mention them to Marnie when the phone rang. Roger Broadbent wanted to know how they were and assure them he would take every step necessary in their defence. He also wanted to know if they had had any further thoughts that might help their case.
Marnie promised they would give the matter their full concentration. She was putting the phone down when Anne returned from the rubbish bins and called her to the door. For a few moments they stood together, listening to the church bells carried on the breeze, breathing in clean country air, thinking how glad they were to live in that beautiful place. Remembrance of what had happened there the day before brought them back to reality.
Marnie put an arm round Anne’s shoulders as they heard footsteps nearby. A moment later Ben appeared round the corner. He was smiling but seemed a little subdued.
“I’m going for a walk on the towpath,” he said. “Poppy can’t stay in the stable all day, neither can I.”
“Good idea, Ben,” said Marnie.
“Do you want to come?” he said.
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to catch up on work. What about you, Anne?”
“Well …”
“Please,” Ben pleaded.
Marnie squeezed Anne’s arm. “Why don’t you?”
Anne smiled. “Okay. Give me five minutes to get ready.”
Ben beamed at her.
“Oh, make that six minutes,” Anne added as an afterthought.
Ben looked puzzled, then smiled again. “You’ve got to get an apple for Poppy, right?”
“You got it,” Anne said.
Their laughter was genuine and lifted their spirits, if only for a brief moment.
*
After Anne completed the ritual of the apple, Ben led Poppy out of the stable barn and they headed for the canal. Crossing the bridge, Anne realised they were at the place where Valerie Paxton had stood, sending malevolent thoughts to Ben. She noticed he looked over the parapet to the spot where Donovan had dragged him out of the water. She put a hand on his shoulder.
Poppy turned her head southwards when they reached the towpath. Passing Maurice’s boat, Anne saw that the police incident tape had been removed, leaving no sign that a tragedy had happened there. She shivered. Ben reached across and took her hand, as if he understood what she was thinking. She squeezed his in return.
Anne was surprised at the pace set by Poppy, and at one time she increased speed, leaving Anne and Ben behind. Ben was happy to see her stride on. The towpath was deserted, and the sturdy horse was a hazard to no-one.
“Will Donovan be coming back?” he asked.
“Yes, later today.”
“Good. I want to thank him for saving my life. He did, didn’t he?”
“It seems that way.”
“I like Donovan, though he never says much to me. And I like you, Anne.”
“I like you too,” Anne said, squeezing his hand again.
“Can I ask you something?” Ben was looking up at her.
“Sure.”
“Was Mr Dekker really related to me?”
“He was your uncle, your father’s older brother. You and your mum are – or were – probably his closest relatives.”
“And my dad.” Ben stopped, put two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Up ahead, Poppy came to a halt and looked back. ‘… wherever he is,” Ben added.
They caught up with Poppy at a bridge where the road crossed the canal. The three of them walked over together to join the towpath. As they descended on the other side, it occurred to Anne that as Maurice had no children, Willow and Ben might be beneficiaries of whatever Maurice might have in his estate. She had no idea what it might contain, but the thought made her feel uncomfortable.
*
Donovan arrived in time for lunch, bringing his overnight bag, a large bunch of daffodils in bud and a bottle of German dry Riesling from Rheinhessen. He had wrapped the bottle in newspaper to keep it cold, and Marnie had at once put it in the fridge, pronouncing it a good accompaniment to the meal. She had made an asparagus quiche, with Jersey Royale potatoes and peas.
Marnie was expecting a phone call from Ralph that afternoon and while they ate, the three discussed all that had happened since Maurice’s death. She wanted to give Ralph a full report. Donovan had been thinking back to the time he spent travelling with Maurice, but could recall nothing he had said that might give a clue as to who might be a danger to him.
Marnie produced banana fools for dessert while Anne cleared the table. When Anne sat down, she said that something had been bothering her since the walk with Ben and Poppy that morning. It had occurred to her that Ben and his parents were probably Maurice’s closest relatives. Marnie realised at once what Anne had on her mind.
“You’re thinking about inheritance,” she said.
“Yes,” said Anne. “As a widower with no children, wouldn’t his brother and his family be his next of kin?”
“I suppose so,” said Marnie. “Unless he’d made a will leaving his worldly goods to someone else.”
“A man like that would almost certainly have made a will at some time,” Donovan agreed. “But would he have much to leave now, apart from the boat? Hadn’t he gone bankrupt or something?”
“There have been rumours,” Marnie
said. “A friend of Ralph’s heard that Maurice had received a very substantial pay-off when he left his firm.”
“Did he have a house or flat in London as well?” Donovan asked.
“Presumably.”
“So quite a legacy for someone,” said Donovan.
“That could mean …” Anne began slowly.
Donovan was there already. “A strong motive for a beneficiary to kill him.”
“There’s something troubling me in all this,” Marnie said. “That person you saw watching Maurice’s boat when you went looking for him. Where does he fit in to all this?”
“It’s bothered me, too,” said Donovan. “At the moment I can’t figure it out. You’re wondering if it could’ve been Willow.”
“Willow?”
Anne was aghast, but Marnie nodded.
“We’re just considering the possibilities.”
“Fair enough, but Willow? She couldn’t …” Anne failed to complete the sentence. “Anyway, she was here at that time,” Anne protested. “And how would she get down to that section of the canal? She doesn’t have transport.”
“Good point,” said Donovan. “I suppose we are absolutely sure she was here?”
“’I was with her some of the time,” said Marnie. “I took her to see Margaret Giles about Ben’s schooling, then she looked in here on her way back.”
“Could she have gone off after that?”
Marnie gave this some thought. “I don’t know. You know what it’s like here, Donovan, chasing our tails to keep up with the work. I was too busy to notice.”
“I could never believe that of Willow,” said Anne. “I just couldn’t.”
“We’re only mulling things over.” Marnie’s tone was conciliatory. “You can be sure the police are going over every aspect of the situation, so it’s not just us. We need to be prepared so they don’t spring an idea on us and make us say something in haste that we might regret later.”
Donovan looked speculative as he studied Marnie’s face.
*
Ralph phoned Marnie in the early afternoon. He was now in Virginia and had just finished breakfast at his hotel. Marnie began asking how the lecture tour was going, but he brushed her question aside, saying everything was fine. He wanted to know the latest situation back home.
Marnie gave him a full report, and Ralph listened to the whole story without interrupting. She concluded with their speculation about Willow and Ben being possible beneficiaries of Maurice’s estate.
“There is someone else you may have overlooked,” Ralph said slowly.
“Who’s that?”
“There’s his brother, David.”
“David?” Marnie thought it over. “You’re right, we haven’t paid much attention to him. But then, he disappeared a long time ago … last heard of somewhere abroad.”
“Does anyone know for certain where he is?”
“I suppose not. Willow told me about him, but she hasn’t heard from him in years.”
Ralph was silent for some seconds. “Well, David must be Maurice’s closest relative.”
“Do you think I should mention him to the police?” Marnie asked.
“They may well have already found out from Willow,” Ralph said.
“Ralph, what about Dominic? Does he feature somewhere?”
“I’m not sure how that works. As Maurice’s brother-in-law he’s obviously a relative but not in direct line. If David was dead, for example, Maurice’s next of kin would probably automatically be Willow.”
“So we’re back to Willow again,” said Marnie.
“There is one thing,” Ralph added. “It occurs to me that if David wanted to establish a claim on Maurice’s estate, he might decide to enter the picture again.”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Ralph. Wouldn’t that be normal after your brother dies?”
“Normal, yes,” said Ralph. “It might also be suspicious.”
Chapter 54
Special Delivery
Donovan surprised everyone at breakfast on Monday, appearing in blue jeans and a light blue linen shirt under a red sweater. On the bed lay his bright red ski jacket next to the rolled-up sleeping bag. He had been invited to have tea on Glastonbury with Willow and Ben the previous afternoon and, after spending time with Marnie and Anne, had opted again to sleep on Sally Ann in case the police for some reason conducted a search of the premises and boats at Glebe Farm. He was still keen that they knew as little of his life and relationships as possible.
He set off for the police station in Towcester in his old Volkswagen Beetle immediately after breakfast, having checked by phone that the relevant detectives would be there to take his statement. Anne had warned him they would also take his fingerprints. When the duty officer asked if he would agree to this in order to eliminate him from the investigation, he readily complied.
The interview was a painless experience, conducted by Marriner and Lamb. Donovan was treated with courtesy and offered a cup of more or less drinkable coffee. At the end of the session Marriner shook Donovan’s hand and praised him for saving Ben’s life.
He emerged from the station feeling relieved that everything had gone so smoothly to find two motorcycle cops standing beside his car. Donovan’s heart froze. One of them turned to face him as he approached.
“Is this your car, sir?” he asked.
“Yes. I was told I could park here.”
“That’s not a problem. Have you had it long?’’ He smiled. Both officers smiled. “It’s in great condition.”
Donovan relaxed. They were car enthusiasts. “It was my father’s. We’ve had it in the family since new, 1971 model.”
For the second time that morning Donovan found himself answering questions from the police. When they eventually parted company, he felt almost as if he was saying goodbye to friends. Almost.
*
The red mail van drove down the high street minutes after Donovan had left for the police station. Alan the postman was carrying something different that morning, a special delivery letter that he had placed on the passenger seat beside him. He parked outside the farmhouse and walked into the office barn to receive his customary cheery greeting from Marnie and Anne.
“I need a signature, my love,” Alan said to Marnie. “Special delivery for you.”
Anne got up from her desk to take the bundle of mail.
“Probably that million pound lottery prize,” said Marnie casually.
“Probably.” Alan handed Marnie a form and told her where to sign.
Marnie complied and then examined the letter. “Curious address,” she said, holding it out for Anne to see.
To whom it may concern,
Glebe Farm,
Knightly St John,
Northamptonshire
After Alan had gone on his way, Marnie and Anne studied the envelope. There was no postcode, no return address, no indication of provenance except a central London franking.
“There is one way to find out who sent it,” said Anne, handing her a paper knife.
Marnie looked serious as she slit open the envelope. The two of them read it with heads close together. It was typewritten with a signature at the end.
To whom it may concern
I have read in the press that my brother, Maurice Dekker, died a few days ago in suspicious circumstances and I am naturally very concerned about this. I understand that at the time of his death he was staying at your premises. Would it be possible for me to meet with you to discover exactly what happened to my brother?
I can be contacted at the mobile phone number below. I hope you will agree to see me.
Thank you.
David H. Dekker
Below the signature, the phone number had been added by hand.
*
Willow had got out of the habit of keeping her mobile phone charged, so Anne went round to Glastonbury to tell her about the letter from her estranged husband. Marnie had decided she would do nothing until she had spoken with
Willow and agreed a common strategy. Willow returned to the office with Anne, leaving Ben on the boat absorbed in a maths project.
Willow and Anne turned the corner of the office barn at the same time as Donovan’s black Beetle rolled into the garage barn. The three entered the office together.
Marnie handed David’s letter to Willow who read it and passed it to Donovan without comment. Marnie opened the discussion.
“I wanted to know what you felt, Willow, before I did anything about this.”
“The letter’s addressed to you, Marnie. It’s nice of you to consult me, but I wouldn’t want to tell you what to do.”
“Fair enough, but if I agree to see David, he’ll want to come here. No doubt he’ll want to see Maurice’s boat. He may also want to see you and Ben.”
“He hasn’t wanted to see me for over ten years, and he’s never set eyes on Ben.”
Marnie realised they were entering very private territory and wished Ralph was there to bring his considered views to the discussion. It surprised her when Donovan was the next to speak.
“Maurice never mentioned David in my hearing, and in the letter David says he read about Maurice in the papers, so they obviously weren’t in touch.”
“So why’s he concerned about him now?” Willow asked.
“Being dead does make a difference,” said Donovan. “Things you might have expected to be able to say some day have gone forever now.”
Marnie thought of Donovan’s parents, who had died in an accident in his childhood.
“You think David might be feeling regret?” she said. “Or maybe remorse?”
“Who knows what he might be feeling?” said Willow. “In my experience he only thinks of himself.”
“Can I ask you something?” Donovan said to Willow. “Could you describe him for me?”
“When I last saw him – that’s before Ben was born – he was rather like Maurice. Not as tall, but slim, with wavy brown hair and grey eyes.”
“What about his movements? Was he light on his feet?”