Sculpt a Murder

by Lily Ashton

  “There were the Jamaican invoices that Harry mentioned.” Alice rolled a pen between her fingers. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “I think that’s what Harry meant,” said Christian. “There was some financial blip in the company and Simon was responsible.”

  “People make mistakes,” said Roddy. “There might have been a rational explanation for what happened.”

  “That’s true. Harry didn’t tell me the details, and as far as I’m aware there was just the one incident.”

  “But it involved a lot of money and Nick had to cover the cost from his own pocket.” Devi jabbed with her pen. “By that time, the agency was no longer working for me, but if I had still been a client, I would have had grave concerns about how the company that handled my business was being run. If Nick hadn’t stepped in so quickly, it could have been a disaster.”

  When Alice had asked her about it, Cheryl had been spare with details about the money she had borrowed from Nick. Perhaps the Jamaican invoices involved nothing more than Nick lending his sister-in-law some cash. He might have taken the money out of the company because it was his quickest access to funds, then paid it back from his personal account. But why was it referred to as the Jamaican invoices?

  “What I don’t understand,” said Christian, “is why Simon wanted to get rid of Nick at all. The London office he fronted brought in most of the agency’s clients and it was largely down to Nick’s own networking skills.”

  “And that was the point.” Devi shuffled on the sofa to face Christian. “Simon didn’t like Nick being out at the front of the business, meeting all the new clients and taking the glory when they signed with the agency.”

  “Then again, Simon must be a good manager of the back room and you need both those types of people to make a business successful,” said Christian. “You know, it’s like Wham. Everyone remembers George Michael out the front, but the band wouldn’t have worked without Andrew Ridgeley, who did the non-glamorous bits in the background, without any fuss. The combination made them global stars.”

  Roddy twirled a section of grey beard. Then he poured himself an extra large measure of rum. Alice stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her, but all she saw was a window. With a bullet-hole in its centre.

  Devi’s phone rang and she rummaged in her bag. “I need to go, but I hope we’ve been helpful, Alice. Please contact me if you need any more information on Nick’s business.”

  “I will. And thank you for being so calm and sensible back in the attic.”

  Once Devi and Christian had gone, Roddy slumped into the sofa and stretched out his legs. “Dearie me, they are a charming but exhausting pair. And I didn’t understand a word they said.”

  “I thought their insights would be helpful, but now I’m more confused than ever.”

  “I always think that too much information is a dangerous thing. The details cloud the central issue.”

  “Hmm, you’re annoyingly right. As usual. I’ve been asking people about Simon and Cheryl, but all I’m getting are opinions. Nobody seems to know anything for sure.”

  Roddy picked a sweet from Devi’s Indian box. “It was always thus. By the way, these are delicious. The box is almost empty, which may have something to do with me.”

  “I’ll buy some more when my clients pay me. But first, I’ve got to find the Renton Hall killer before they get to me again.” Alice held up her incident board. “One of these people is the murderer. But which one?”

  “Are you sure it is one of those people? It could be someone else altogether. Someone who hasn’t made it onto your board.”

  Alice examined her suspects. If not them, then who? There was Eleanor Carberry. But could Eleanor have killed her own brother? She would not be the first to do so, but Eleanor clearly adored Nick. There had been lots of guests at the Carberrys’ on the night of Nick’s death. Any one of them could have killed him and Alice had only met a handful.

  But Jeremy Evans was different. He had no high-profile business and no glamorous Bollywood girlfriend. He lived a quiet life tending the grounds of Renton Hall and pottering around his own garden with his attentive wife. How could he be a threat to anyone?

  With her investigation going nowhere, Alice propped the board back in its place and looked at Roddy.

  “I think I’ll have to rethink my strategy. And I know exactly where to start.”

  Chapter 26

  When Alice arrived back at Renton Hall, the cable had been removed from the doorway, but now there was drilling coming from the dining room. Alice went into each room noting the people that were there and what they were doing. Having not done so that morning, she did not know whether any of them were the same people. But if there was another attack, she might at least have the comfort of knowing she had seen their face before.

  At the top of the stairs, Alice shut the attic door behind her. There was no lock, so she dragged a box of broken crockery in front of the doorway. It would not stop a determined intruder, but they would make a lot of noise when they opened the door. Alice turned on every light. She had brought one of Joe’s torches with her and she turned it to full beam.

  Alice cleared Wilfred’s desk and sat down in the leather chair. She opened the top drawer and looked again for Wilfred Carberry’s missing diary. But she had no luck. She tried an adjacent chest of drawers. She had been through it before, but she could have missed a stray notebook amongst the voluminous papers. But no, the diary was not there either. Alice turned to Wilfred’s bureau and had just opened the drop-down writing surface when she heard the sound of smashing china. Someone was trying to open the door.

  “Alice? Are you in there?” Eleanor nudged the door again.

  “Just a minute.” Alice moved the box to one side and Eleanor stepped inside.

  “What’s that doing there?” Eleanor rubbed her calf. “And, good heavens, you’ve got every light on.”

  Alice led Eleanor to the window and pointed to the spider’s web of cracks with the hole in the middle. “Somebody attempted to shoot me and Christian earlier. Fortunately, they found the glass instead. But as I’m up here by myself, I put the box by the door so I’d know if anybody came in.”

  “Are you sure that was caused by a gunshot?” Eleanor put a hand to her cheek. “Did you actually see somebody shooting?”

  “The shot came from behind us. We thought they might have another go, so we ducked down. By the time it was safe to move again, whoever had been here was gone.”

  “And you’ve no idea who it was?”

  “No. There were lots of people in the house at the time. It could have been anyone.”

  “I’d better call the police. DI Salisbury will want to see this.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll call him. I need to give him an account of what happened anyway.”

  Eleanor slipped on the wet floorboards as she turned to leave, clutching the chaise longue to stop herself from falling.

  “Oh dear, look at the mess. I’ll send someone along to wipe up the water. And board the window.”

  Alice heard a scratching sound and turned to see Wilson’s backside in the air as he shoved his nose behind the bureau. He jumped back and pawed at the ground, growling as he did so.

  “There’s something behind there he wants, probably a dead rat.” Eleanor called the dog, but he ignored her. She reached behind the bureau and pulled out a rawhide chew. “I was looking for that, it’s a favourite. I wonder how it got there?” The dog jumped up and Eleanor patted his nose. “You’ll get it when we’re home.”

  “Before you go, can I just ask you—”

  But Eleanor was already halfway out the door. Wilson turned around and sniffed the air before following his mistress downstairs.

  It was only by chance that Alice glanced down, otherwise she would not have seen the notebook poking out from behind the bureau. She stooped dow
n and picked it up. On its fawn front cover was the word ‘notes’, just like all the others. Could it be …?

  Alice opened it up. It was the missing diary. On the first page, Wilfred Carberry had written about his agreement with Bill Trevelyan:

  Bill agreed to sell his stone greyhound at the price I suggested. I will draw up a formal agreement and we will both sign it in the presence of Cookie Miller. Bill happy that I keep the agreement at Renton Hall.

  So, it was about the dog after all. But the actual agreement was not there. Alice flicked through the notebook, but there was no further mention of it. She looked around the attic. She would have to go through everything again, this time looking for a piece of paper signed by Wilfred and his neighbour Bill. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  All the workmen had disappeared by the time Alice descended the stairs. She had Wilfred’s notebook tucked in her bag, but she had not found the agreement. She shouted a goodnight to Gina at the far end of the conservatory and left.

  She sat in the Defender and checked her bank account. No new deposits. With Eleanor’s sloth-like attitude to paying bills, it could be ages before Alice received any money and Daisy’s rent was due soon. The owners were understanding people but Alice had always paid her bills on time, and this was one payment she was not going to miss. She sent an email to Emilio Gambi asking him to pay his outstanding invoice immediately.

  Her phone buzzed and Alice read Joe’s text. His train had been cancelled and he would be late for dinner. Alice had arranged a meeting with DI Nathan Salisbury. She would see him first and pick up a takeaway afterwards.

  When Alice called Nathan, he suggested they talk over a drink at The Bull. He found a quiet spot in a corner underneath a shelf of old brass tankards and was thumbing keys on his phone when Alice set down their beers.

  “Just had to send that email,” he said, putting the phone in his jacket pocket. “I’m all yours. Now, tell me about today’s incident.”

  Alice described the whizzing sound she had heard, followed by the damage to the window and her assumption that she and Christian had narrowly avoided a bullet. She recounted Simon Newgate’s visit and the many people who had been milling around Renton Hall at the time.

  “But I can’t believe Simon had anything to do with it. If it were me, I would want to make a quick getaway before I got caught.”

  “That’s my feeling too,” said Nathan. “Though sometimes the perpetrator goes back to see what effect their action has had, whether they had actually hit their target, so that they are prepared if questioned. But Mr Newgate doesn’t strike me as being that brazen.”

  “Me neither.” Alice sipped her Peroni. “I’m thinking that the person who came after me today – and I’m sure they were aiming for me – must be the same person who killed Nick Carberry and Jeremy Evans.” Alice looked at Nathan’s impassive face and noticed his soft eyes, as though for the first time. “Am I allowed to ask who your suspects are?”

  “You can ask, and I’m telling you this in confidence. And by the way, yes, I think you were the target of today’s incident.” Nathan put both hands on the table. “I had Simon Newgate as a suspect, but also Cheryl Horton and her husband. Though I am not so convinced about Harry. Whilst I have my suspicions, there’s not enough evidence to make an arrest. The investigation has come to a standstill and I’m looking for something new that will give us a breakthrough.”

  Alice looked at Nathan. If things had worked out differently, this could be her and her boyfriend having a cosy drink. When Nathan had re-entered her life back in the summer, Alice was agonising over her relationship with Joe, playing with the idea of moving in with him. Nathan was calm and steady; he made no demands on her. She had seriously contemplated finishing with Joe for Nathan. But her decision had worked out for the best. Her relationship with Joe had moved into a new and enjoyable phase. And Nathan had remained a friend. So, as a friend, Alice told Nathan about Sarah Evans’ preoccupation with the dog, and Wilfred’s reference to an agreement.

  “It’s certainly an odd arrangement.”

  “Here, you can see for yourself.” Alice handed over Wilfred’s notebook. “It’s on the first page.”

  Nathan turned over a few pages and flicked through the rest of the notebook. “The agreement itself is not here. Have you seen it?”

  “No. I’ve looked in the attic, but I haven’t found it yet. But even without it, what do you think?”

  Nathan closed the book. “It could be two fastidious, old-fashioned men making a genuine transaction and doing it formally because that’s the way they did things. But it seems like a lot of trouble to go to over a garden ornament.”

  “That’s what I thought. And the sculpture is very ordinary. These days you could buy something similar in any garden nursery.” Alice opened her own notebook. “I did a bit of research on this and dropped into Beecham’s Nursery on the Cornbury Road. They were there back in the late sixties, early seventies. They told me they did stock a range of garden sculptures at the time, including a dog. Though it wasn’t the same as Wilfred’s.”

  “What about other outlets? There would have been more nurseries around at the time.”

  “I asked them that. There were others, they said, but the only one they thought might have sold these sculptures is on the way to Cambridge. I could ask them I suppose.”

  “Leave it, I’ll get one of my team to follow it up.” Nathan made a note on his phone. “Of course, we’re just taking this statue story at face value. There could be something more pertinent beneath the surface.”

  “You mean something hidden inside?” That had not occurred to Alice, but now that Nathan mentioned it, it seemed an obvious possibility.

  “The statue’s been outside for years so it can’t be anything that would rot or otherwise deteriorate.”

  “And it has to be something small, about this size.” Alice’s hands drew a rough nine-by-six-inch rectangle in the air. “Like jewellery. Or they might have stolen some gold bullion … Or perhaps its the ashes of a murder victim.”

  “Now you’re getting carried away.” Nathan laughed. “Though you may be onto something. If a precious object is hidden inside, it would explain the formality of the Carberry and Trevelyan agreement. I’ll come over tomorrow and have a look at the area. I can take the statue away for inspection.”

  The pair agreed to meet outside Jeremy’s snug the following morning. They chatted about Alice’s freelancing work and Nathan’s sponsored charity walk. Finishing their drinks, they wandered into Great Wheaton’s high street. Nathan turned left and headed up the hill to his home. Alice turned right and into China Fang to pick up dinner.

  Chapter 27

  It seemed as if Gina Salvini never slept. She was the last person to leave Renton Hall in the evenings and the first to arrive in the morning. So Alice was not surprised to see Gina when she arrived at just after seven the next morning.

  “I’m about to make coffee. Would you like an espresso?”

  “I would love one.” Alice had a quick look into the downstairs rooms. “How’s the work going? You looked very busy yesterday.”

  “I wouldn’t be so busy if people did what they were supposed to do, no?” Gina took Alice’s arm and steered her into the kitchen. “But I know people are unreliable, so I work it into my schedule. The hotel will open on time.”

  The kitchen was the only room still in its original state. Eleanor had insisted that there should be one space in the house where she could sit down without workmen flitting around her. Gina had agreed to finish the library first, so that Eleanor could use that room while the kitchen was refitted for commercial use.

  “I’m glad you’re here early.” The coffee machine finished gurgling and Gina handed Alice a cup. “I can show you a painting that arrived yesterday from my dealer. This is the piece for the library. You remember we discussed this before?”

 
; Alice remembered thinking that Gina’s brief to her dealer would be almost impossible to fill. She was looking forward to seeing what he had come up with. Gina unwrapped the painting and gave it to Alice.

  “It’s a good work, no?”

  No! About two feet square, a lonely snow-topped mountain, coloured blue, with a necklace of green trees, was overlooked by one thin cloud. The piece was not badly painted, but it was not quality workmanship either. It was not offensive, but it did not say anything. It was just… blah. Still, top marks to the dealer for coming up with a piece at all.

  “It’s … interesting.”

  “Good. And I’m sure Eleanor will like it too.”

  Alice gulped her coffee and walked into the conservatory. The black and white tiles were gleaming. The iron framework around the glass had a new coat of green paint. She opened the door and stepped onto the decking. Early birds sang in the trees, a rabbit hopped beside still waters. Alice ambled over the wooden bridge and into a spray of pale mist hovering above the field.

  As she neared Jeremy’s snug, Nathan Salisbury came into view. He was accompanied by DS Nick Riley.

  “Murky morning.” Nathan looked to the sky. “Still, it should clear up soon.”

  The trio made their way through the wood to the pet cemetery. Already gloomy trapped as it was beneath the trees, with the additional mist the area had an especially eerie air.

  Nathan put a hand on the stone dog’s head and glared down the animal’s back. “So this is it?” he said taking a torch from his pocket, he shone the beam around the sculpture. “Can’t see an opening. I thought there might be a join somewhere.”

  “You could use some more light.” Nick Riley shone his own torch around the bottom of the statue. “It’s hard to see properly, but if someone had hidden something inside, they could have made an opening underneath.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll tip it up and you have a look.” Nathan stood behind the dog and tugged its head. But it did not budge. He put his foot at the base and tried again. “It’s not shifting. It must be pinned down.”