Sculpt a Murder

by Lily Ashton

  Cows grazing in a field, a thin church spire in the background. The scene looked familiar to Alice. “Was it painted here?”

  “Yes,” said Eleanor. “That’s the church at Little Cornbury.” She squinted at the painting. “But those cows are terrible! This doesn’t look like the work of a professional artist.”

  “You’d be surprised what passes for professional work.” Alice brushed a finger along the frame. “Though you’re probably right that it was painted by an amateur. Did any of your parents or grandparents paint?”

  “Wilfred was a keen amateur. Oils, occasional watercolours and drawings. But that doesn’t look like one of his.”

  Jeremy laid the piece on the top of a bowed and flaking chest of drawers. “I found it inside that tallboy, tucked into the bottom drawer. Lordy, people put things in the strangest places.”

  Eleanor wandered amongst the furniture, opening the doors of a Victorian wardrobe and the drawers of a delicate dressing table. She patted the back of a torn flower-patterned sofa, releasing puffs of dust into the air. “What on earth will we do with all this?”

  “Most of these pieces are in good condition,” said Jeremy. “That wardrobe for instance. They can be sold at the Narebridge auction. Mr Burridge will arrange to collect them. You’d get a fair penny, I’d say.”

  “Good idea,” said Eleanor. “But what about the rest? The leg on this sofa is broken, and the chest looks a bit rough.”

  “I can fix up some of the pieces, though I think that sofa’s beyond repair.”

  “Excellent.” Eleanor clapped dust from her hands. She took Alice downstairs and into what looked like the living room of somebody’s house. A couple of easy chairs huddled around an oil heater and a large kitchen table dominated the back of the space. There were curtains at the windows and carpet on the floor.

  “Jeremy doesn’t live here, does he?” said Alice.

  “No.” Eleanor laughed. “But we thought he should have somewhere comfortable to work and rest as he spends so much time here. Nick and I used to follow him around the grounds, but when he came in here for a break, there was nowhere for us to sit. We persuaded our parents to kit it out properly for Jeremy and his visitors. That’s to say, me and Nick. And put in some heating too.”

  “It’s a real home from home. There’s even a gas ring. Does Jeremy cook too?”

  “His wife Sarah packs him a lunch every day. She makes soups and stews which he heats up here. She used to make treats for us too, which Jeremy kept in that old Walker’s shortbread tin on the shelf. I suppose he keeps his own snacks there now.” Eleanor rapped the side of the tin. “Anyway, Nick and I would sit at the table while Jeremy brought over the tin. We could barely contain ourselves as he took off the lid and we discovered what was inside. Jeremy was like a kindly uncle to us and we loved him dearly.”

  Alice remembered her own pseudo parent, Aunt Tracey. Alice and Christian had loved their visits to their aunt’s home in Sussex. Alice would be excited for days beforehand. She would picture her bedroom there, with its pink wallpaper and the stuffed giraffe she had won in a raffle. Unable to carry it home on the train, it had remained at Aunt Tracey’s, a friend always waiting for Alice to return. A steaming dish of home-cooked shepherd’s pie would await the siblings, the traditional meal for their first evening’s stay.

  The days following would be a whirl of trips to the beach, barbeques in the garden and games with their three cousins. Alice joined a riding club, and cantering with the others along the deserted beach, she found she could forget about her absent father and dysfunctional family.

  “I’ve loaded the bigger paintings into the wheelbarrow,” Jeremy said from the doorway. “I’ll take them down to the house for you. There’s more in those boxes on the table. I think they’re light enough for you to carry. The rest are in the back room.”

  Back at the Hall, Alice inspected the paintings. There were variations on the cows in the field picture, some with sheep, and all had the same tarnished, clunky frames. There had better be some higher quality works in the collection or there would be little to hang in the hotel …

  Eleanor wanted Alice to start the inventory in the attic. Through a door at the end of the first-floor corridor they climbed a bare, steeply ascending staircase that opened into an attic stretching the length of the house. A vaulted ceiling provided enough height for a giant to stand up straight. Sunshine streamed through one of a pair of large round windows at the two ends. Sturdy oak beams divided the attic into three sections.

  “Wow, I was not expecting this.”

  “It’s something, isn’t it? Wilfred designed the attic so he could indulge in his hobbies and not bother anyone else. He sketched, painted, studied plants, crop rotation, all sorts. He also took a lot of photos and developed them himself.”

  “The pursuits of a Victorian gentleman!”

  “And that’s exactly what he was. He was the only child of a real Victorian and I believe that father and son shared many interests. Wilfred was also an older father. He was in his fifties when my dad was born, so he was very set in rather old-fashioned ways. He kept everything, as you can see. Goodness knows what you’ll find here.”

  “I’m looking forward to sorting through it.” She pointed into the first section. “I’m glad to see from those framed watercolours that you have some lovely pieces.”

  “Wilfred painted those. But over there are the artworks that were on the walls when we lived here. They were all packed and itemised before the builders moved in. I’ve marked a couple of pieces that I’d like to rehang in the hotel, but otherwise I’ll be guided by your recommendations.”

  Alice wandered over to a leather-topped desk, hugging the wall in the middle section of the attic. The size of a kitchen table, the desk had trays of writing paper, pens and a pile of unrecognisable trinkets.

  Eleanor sat on a faded chaise longue, and Wilson jumped onto her lap. “Most of the furniture up here was my grandfather’s. After Wilfred’s death, my father bought that office chair, intending to use the attic himself. But in the end, he didn’t come up much. Too far away from the family, he said.”

  Alice sat beside Eleanor. “When will the interior decorator be here? I’d like to talk to her about her design.”

  “Not for a couple of days; she’s been held up on a job in Milan. But you can start the inventory anyway.” Eleanor rubbed her hands and looked over Alice’s shoulder. “Alice, there’s something else I wanted to discuss with you.” She took a deep breath. “DI Salisbury told me that Nick was shot at close range. To get that close to him, his killer is likely to have been someone he knew. But everyone at the party, Alice, was family or close friend.”

  “Nathan is an experienced detective, so if that’s what he said, I’m sure he’s right.” The thought of being killed by a relative jabbed at Alice’s stomach.

  “But I can’t believe that one of my guests, someone I know Alice, shot my brother. Why would they? I can’t make any sense of it.”

  Alice held Eleanor’s arm. “I’m sure DI Salisbury will find the culprit.”

  “But how quickly? I want whoever did this caught and I don’t want to wait.” Eleanor pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. “I know you solved the Jason Marley case before the police did. Everyone was talking about it. I want you to help me find Nick’s killer. Please.” The wrinkles around Eleanor’s eyes deepened as her eyes narrowed.

  How had an art curator managed to get a reputation as a class A sleuth? It was true that Alice had got ahead of the police on the Marley case, but she had not appreciated how widely that fact was known.

  “Do you know if Nick had any enemies? Anyone who would wish him harm?”

  Eleanor looked at the floor. “Well, there is someone. Simon Newgate, Nick’s business partner. Nick’s known him for years and he brought him along to some of our family events. But I never trusted Simon. Not after …” El
eanor dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “Well, I just don’t trust him. Anyway, he was at the party on Saturday, though he didn’t stay long. Actually, I don’t remember seeing him again after we found Nick.”

  “Eleanor, I would like to help you, but I’m sure the police have everything under control. I don’t want to hinder their investigation.”

  “I know what you’re saying, Alice, but I’m desperate. I’ve just lost my only sibling and I want his killer caught quickly. Simon’s known us a long time, but I don’t really know him. I always told Nick he should hire another director to keep an eye on Simon.”

  “What makes you think that Simon would have killed Nick?”

  “Jealousy. Simon was in awe of Nick. And Nick’s relationship with Devi drove Simon crazy.”

  Alice could imagine the two men arguing over gorgeous Devi Dutta. Ironically, that was one of the themes of Devi’s last movie too. But was it really the motive for Nick’s murder?

  “I understand this is difficult for you, Eleanor, but we are talking coldblooded murder. You would need to have a very good reason for suspecting Simon.”

  “And I do.” Tears were collecting in Eleanor’s eyes again, but she shook her head and sat straighter. “To set up the business, Nick put up sixty percent of the money; Simon was supposed to provide the rest, which he promised Nick he had. All their planning was done on that basis. But at the very last minute, Simon said he couldn’t get the full amount. Nick was furious, but he was committed to the venture, so he contributed more. Simon only put in ten percent in the end.”

  “That is odd.” Alice picked up Wilson who had migrated onto her lap and put him on the floor. “Did Simon offer more money at a later stage?”

  “No. Simon left Nick with practically all of the risk. I felt that if he could welch on such a big promise right at the start of their partnership, he just couldn’t be trusted. And … This is difficult to say out loud, but I always felt that Simon was waiting for an opportunity to get rid of Nick and run the business himself.”

  Having just started her own business, Alice knew how angry she would be if a partner had let her down so badly. And how that would damage her trust in them. Had it caused ongoing bad blood between the partners? Or had Nick Carberry shrugged it off, only concerned with getting his new venture off the ground? Alice could well understand Eleanor’s suspicion, but she had enough on her plate already.

  “Eleanor, I’m sure that if you tell DI Salisbury about Simon Newgate, he will do a thorough investigation.”

  “I know he will. But there’ll be the full glare of a police investigation and stories in the local media. I can’t take that kind of publicity at the moment and nor can the hotel. You could talk to Simon quietly and he wouldn’t know that you suspected him. He’ll be more open with you than with the police.” Eleanor clutched the edge of the chaise longue. “I have to know who killed Nick. And with your reputation, you’re the only person I can trust to get a quick and discreet result.”

  Chapter 5

  Alice was flattered that Eleanor had asked for her help, but she was not getting involved. Her previous dalliance with a murder investigation had taken a toll on her day job. Joe had been constantly worried for her safety, unhappy when she had insisted on pursuing the case. But Joe was not her boss. And it had been an undeniable thrill when she had solved the murder before the police. If she managed her time better, perhaps she could fit in a small investigation after all. What was the harm?

  Eleanor seemed very sure that Simon Newgate had killed her brother, so Alice would start there. She dropped Christian back at Daisy, where she did some research on Nick Carberry’s company.

  Nick had set up Carberry & Newgate Advertising six years ago, with Simon Newgate as creative director and junior partner. They opened a small office in London’s Golders Green which went well. Then they moved to Narebridge, where lower rents meant a bigger office and more staff to service their growing business.

  The agency looked to be thriving. It had a stable of well-known companies on its books and a web page of testimonials from business leaders. But it was Nick’s face that sold the agency. There were pictures of him with clients, accepting industry awards and attending celebrity parties. Nick had got the lion’s share of publicity and attention.

  Simon Newgate came across as a quiet backroom presence. Perhaps that had fuelled his jealousy. Alice decided to pay Simon Newgate a visit at the Narebridge office.

  Alice was led into a spacious conference room, decked with posters from the agency’s campaigns. She sat at the board table and had already drunk half a cup of very good coffee when Simon Newgate burst through the door.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He pulled out a chair beside Alice. “I’ve got a new client who needed a bit of hand holding.”

  Alice recognised the tall man with bushy red hair from the Carberrys’ party. He had been in the library when Alice arrived, talking to Eleanor’s cousin Harry.

  “I really just popped by to say how sorry I am about Nick,” said Alice. “It must be hard for you being back in the office so soon.”

  Was that too leading? Eleanor had said she wanted a discreet investigation.

  “I stayed at home yesterday, but it was agony.” Simon rolled his lips together. “Better to keep busy.”

  If it had occurred to him that her visit was slightly odd, he showed no signs of it.

  Alice turned away from Simon’s pained expression. “This is such an impressive office, how long have you been here?”

  Simon looked around the room, brown eyes wide, as if seeing it for the first time.

  “Five years. We needed a bigger office and we picked Narebridge as both Nick and I were brought up in the area. And Great Wheaton is only ten miles away, so it’s a shorter commute for me.” Simon folded his arms.

  “But you also have a London office.”

  “That’s to keep our presence in the capital. It’s a tiny office, just a gateway to here where all the action takes place. But Nick was based there, as he was the agency’s best salesman.”

  “I thought he was chief executive.”

  “Well yeah, that too. But his main remit was to find new business opportunities. Then it’s down to me to come up with creative campaigns.”

  “And that was an amicable arrangement? Nick staying in London and you being here?”

  “Absolutely.” Simon looked at Alice directly for the first time. “Nick loved London. The pace, the buzz, being in the centre of everything. And of course, he lived there. But I prefer the laid-back vibe out here. There’s a cool creative scene too.”

  It seemed to Alice as though Simon was selling her her own home town. “So, what will happen to the London office now?”

  “Tristan, one of our account managers, will man Golders Green for the time being. In due course we’ll do an assessment as to the office’s value to the business and make a decision on what to do going forward.”

  “It seems you already have a plan worked out.”

  “We’re never without a plan.”

  “But a plan for when your partner dies? That seems a bit morbid.”

  Simon frowned. “Put like that, I suppose it does. But we’re a business and we need contingency plans to cover every eventuality. Including the death of one of the partners.”

  “I see.” Alice was not sure that she did see. She finished her coffee and replaced the cup in its saucer. “I met Devi Dutta at the Carberrys’ party. It was thrilling to meet a real-life Bollywood star. I suppose you must know her well.”

  Simon’s frown deepened. “Of course I do. It was me who introduced her to Nick. She was looking for an ad agency to launch her new clothing brand in the UK. She contacted us and as Nick was away, I took the call. I met her for a preliminary chat and by the time Nick got back, I had Devi signed up.”

  Alice remembered Devi saying that she w
as here because of interests other than filming. Alice thought that meant seeing friends or visiting the local sights. She hadn’t imagined that Devi had her own clothing line.

  “She’s a canny businesswoman.” Simon smiled. “Anyway, Nick made a beeline for her the minute he saw her. The next thing I knew, he’d whisked her off for a weekend in Paris. And when they came back, she moved into his flat.”

  Alice wriggled her toes in her Vans. “I see.” And this time, Alice did see.

  Alice heard music as she jumped off the gangway onto Daisy’s deck. Strings and winds, an infectious beat, forced Alice’s hips to sway as she pranced down the companionway. Christian was doing the same thing in the saloon. When he saw Alice, he grabbed the remote and turned down the volume.

  “I’m watching The Sunny Girl. Devi is so good and what a brilliant dancer.”

  Alice pulled off her Vans and chucked them onto a pile of shoes by the companionway. “Where did you and Devi disappear to, Christian, while I was with Eleanor?”

  “She gave me a tour of the house and told me about the refurbishment plans. She wasn’t exactly full of the joys, as you can imagine, but I think she was grateful for the distraction. It’s such a fantastic house, perfect for a boutique hotel. Devi has lots of ideas for decorating the place. She has great taste.” Christian’s arms flew around him.

  “Devi seems to have had quite an impact on you.”

  “She’s a remarkable woman. An accomplished actress and an astute businesswoman. Do you know she designs her own clothing range?”

  “I just found out.”

  “I was telling her about my plans to travel. I’ve always wanted to go to India and I’m planning a trip there. She was so encouraging. Told me I could stay with her and she’d show me around.”

  Alice laughed. “You are kidding me, big bro. You don’t seriously think that you and Devi …”