by Marni Graff
At this moment, she didn’t think she could tolerate being a police officer’s wife, if suspecting their closest relatives was part of the job. How could she be loyal to both men in this situation? If she sided with Ian, she was being disloyal to her brother; she had no choice but to defend Simon. Underscoring it all was the fact that she knew Simon’s history with Keith.
As she dressed, she wondered how Simon was doing today. Last night, she’d left an urgent message with their family solicitor, who should be working on Simon’s case at this moment. She’d check with him once she got herself sorted. She had so much to do today.
Yesterday, she’d called Sally Kincaid, who substituted for Agnes when she was on vacation or out sick and who agreed to work for the next week, and today Maeve was to bring around the planned menus for Sally to review. At least it was Monday, and they had no dinner service until Thursday. They would see how Agnes felt after that.
Once she knew about Simon, she would pick Agnes up from Saint Margaret’s Hospital and get the patient settled at home. Then she would retrieve Agnes’ sister Hazel from the train in Windermere. Hazel had insisted on coming down when Kate had spoken to her, but had asked for her visit to be a surprise for Agnes.
Half an hour later, Kate stopped in her workshop to inspect the drying of a painted piece she was working on. The creamy yellow was drying well, and she was trying to decide whether to add a pale green glaze to pick out its features. This was her therapy, a way to distract and calm herself after last night. A movement at the end of the garden caught her attention, and she walked over to the studio door and looked out.
Simon knelt, weeding. Nora stood over him, talking and leaning on a hoe. The morning soil was damp and made pulling weeds easier. It all looked so normal, but shocked to see her brother, Kate hurried out. Seeing her excitement, Darby ran up to greet her. She fondled the dog’s ears as she resisted the impulse to grab Simon and hug him.
“Hey, you two.”
“Hello yourself,” Simon answered, getting up and slapping his gloves on his dirty jeans before pulling them off. “Get my note?”
“What note?”
“The one I left on your door when I got home after talking with Ian. He didn’t arrest me, Kate.” Simon’s face was drawn. “But I’m to have legal guidance, whatever that means.”
“Oh.” She stepped forward and hugged him anyway. “I came out through my studio, so I didn’t see any note. I thought you were locked up.”
Simon draped his arm over her shoulder. “Not quite yet. How’s my sister holding up?”
Nora looked tired but smiled at Kate. “I heard him coming in, and we had tea together early. I made him toast and eggs, and he wolfed them down.”
Simon kept his arm around his sister but looked away. “We had a few cancellations. The news must have hit about Agnes being hurt on the premises.”
Kate noted Simon didn’t include the cloud of suspicion that hovered over him as a reason for the guests’ change of mind. Nothing horrible like this had ever happened when their parents were in charge, and it seemed like a betrayal of their good work. Kate felt like her entire world was falling apart. Had she and Simon made a mistake keeping the lodge running?
Nora stepped over to them and broke her reverie. “Hey, you two. My mom always says, ‘This too shall pass.’ Just give it time.”
Simon squeezed her shoulder before dropping his arm. “Let’s change the subject. Too nice a day to dwell on last night. It will all work out, you’ll see.”
Kate wished she shared his confidence, but she acceded to his wishes. “I’m glad you’re home and working hard.”
“Want to help? My helper here pleads pregnancy for weeding; lousy excuse, I think.” Simon held out his gloves.
Kate held up her hands in defense. “No, thanks, I’ve got my own chores today, and most of them revolve around Agnes.” She looked around. “What happened to Daniel? He was supposed to weed today.”
Simon put his gloves back on. “Didn’t show, and since I was up, I thought I’d get a jump on it.”
Kate frowned. “I’ll bet Daniel slept in. I could use him to pick up some things to help Sally out. I’ll give him a call and roust him out of bed.” She moved to head back to the lodge.
“Can’t,” Simon called after her.
She turned around. “Can’t what?”
“Can’t call Rowley—phone’s been disconnected over a week. Hasn’t paid his bill again. Didn’t Agnes or Maeve tell you?”
“Neither one mentioned it.” Kate chewed the inside of her lip. “And no mobile. Maybe I can get Robbie Cole to rally him. His cottage is closest to Daniel’s hut.”
*
9:30 AM
Robbie Cole put aside his online reading to carry out Kate’s request, leaving behind the technical world of environmental science to climb the path to Daniel’s hut. The track from Clarendon Hall’s kitchen to the small cottage he and his mother shared branched off into the woods, and he paused as a butterfly distracted him.
Looking up at the puffy clouds, edged in pink and purple, he closed one eye, making them seem near enough to push away with his fingertip. Across the lake, the steep fells became the rugged mass known as Pillar, rising almost three thousand feet above sea level, but with one eye closed, it appeared no taller than his pinkie. Amazing.
The view was more than picturesque to Robbie. The rough tracks and hiking paths had attracted travelers since the early 1800s, the peace and stillness of the nature-filled area sought by many. It was busy enough already, he ruminated; all this area offered could be worn away by those unable to take vigilant care of the primordial beauty he called home. He was comfortable here and liked his life just as it stood.
Robbie tackled his coursework in the mornings and did chores Cook listed for him some afternoons. When he had free time, he hiked and consulted his trail logs. He’d started a birding journal, too, after joining a group in Windermere, and he was saving for a really good pair of binoculars. Six days a week, he helped his mother get Edmunde or Sommer in and out of the large stainless whirlpool bath with the aid of a mechanical lift. His small paycheck from Sommer gave him spending money and a small modicum of independence.
He thought of his mum with pride as he resumed his walk. She’d made a decent life for them both with her career. He hoped to take care of her one day, when he finished this course and could earn his way. Interested in the land and the environment, he thought his future would lie in its preservation. Now that Keith was gone, there would be no conflict between his mother and the Clarendons on that score when he followed his plans. The pretense of supporting Keith’s development ideas could just fall away, and he would be free to follow his dreams. Robbie pictured himself in a crisply pressed uniform, patrolling the lakeside and the fells.
The air shifted, and he frowned, smelling the hut before it came into view. Animals had knocked down Daniel’s garbage bins and torn open the bags inside. It had taken Robbie months to get Daniel to stop burning his garbage. Now several weeks’ accumulation had spoiled in the sun, spread out over a large area behind the hut, fouling the air.
Robbie considered picking up some of the larger stuff, but he’d need to re-bag it all to tote down the road, and he hadn’t come prepared. At least he’d offer to give Daniel a hand with it. He knew most of the town avoided the man, but he’d seen him talking to his mother, and Robbie knew many people who never took the time to do that.
Daniel liked his ale too much, Robbie mused. He knocked on the back door to the grey wooden building several times. No response. A pane in the window over the sink was missing; a loud buzzing made him squint to look inside.
Flies hummed noisily amongst the stacks of piled dishes, feeding greedily on leftovers and dregs of takeout food. Robbie thought every dish Daniel owned must be thrown in that sink.
He rattled the doorknob.
“Daniel! Daniel Rowley! Open up in there.”
He decided to walk around to the front. Robbie stood for a moment enjoying the view of the lake, breathing in air warmed by the autumn sun, crisp with dried leaves—land getting ready to slumber for the winter. He had a good view of Belle Isle and even Ramsey Lodge across the bay from up here. The boats were out in full force already. A steamer headed toward Ambleside, its decks filled with colored sprinkles like on ice cream, the mixed colors of tourists and brightly clad hikers exploring the area where he lived.
Robbie mounted the two rickety steps to the porch, avoiding the broken chair set outside the front door. After pounding on the door and calling for Daniel again, he peered through the one window in the front room. He could see through to the tiny kitchen and the door to the water closet off of it. Dirty clothing lay in heaps on the floor. A worn cot sagged in the right front corner of the main room; a rough, wool blanket had landed on the floor in a heap. Lying amongst the tattered, grey sheets was the hairy bulk of Daniel Rowley, face down, one leg hanging off the bed.
Robbie banged hard on the door, calling for Daniel in a voice so loud he was certain it echoed across the lake. He felt in his pockets and realized he’d left his mobile at home.
Bloody sod, he thought, and started back down the hill. He’d have to call Kate Ramsey back and let her know that once again, Daniel Rowley had had one too many and wouldn’t be coming in to work today.
Chapter Forty-three
“The manner of Hercules Flood’s death made a scandal which eclipsed every other scandal that, during the long, candlelit evenings of Bristol winter, disturbed drawing-rooms and kept business lively in taverns.”
— Marguerite Steen, The Sun Is My Undoing
11 AM
Ian sat at his desk and rubbed his eyes. They burned from lack of sleep. He’d put Kate’s ring in his sock drawer when he’d rolled in for a few hours of snatched sleep. He had stopped thinking of it as his grandmother’s ring because now it belonged to Kate. He hated that Kate thought he was being cold and officious.
Despite the intense tension between them, he refused to do less than his best on this or any other murder investigation. When Kate had time to realize this, she would see she couldn’t possibly marry a person who would do less, and he was certain they would forge a reunion. She needed time to sort out her thoughts, a gift of love he was willing to give her when their future together was at stake. One day, they would look back on this and laugh over the night she’d thrown his ring back at him. At least, he hoped they would.
He should be reviewing the reports on his pending cases, and he forced himself to dive in, paying special attention to the meager results on the missing Anne Reed. There were a few potential sightings in Windermere, and one caller was sure she’d seen her with a young man at Sizergh Castle, south of Kendal. All would be investigated. After making team assignments, Ian initialed the files and tossed them in his out box.
He pulled the file containing his copies of everything to date on the Clarendon case to the center of his blotter. Last night, he’d called Higgins in to take Simon’s statement, despite his awareness of budget constraints regarding officers accruing overtime. His need to be seen as objective so as not to be thrown off the case loomed larger.
Higgins had arrived yawning but eager to work. After instructing the sergeant on the salient points he had wanted covered, Ian had watched the interview from the next room, taking notes as Simon had described to Higgins how his kitchen door, never locked, opened right near his studio door, also never locked. Ian already knew this but had needed it documented.
After some resistance and insisting on their innocence, Simon had finally given Higgins a list of the lodge’s employees. Afterwards, Higgins had hit Simon with allegations that he and Keith had been enemies, at which Simon had scoffed.
“We didn’t agree. People don’t always, but I didn’t hate the man. I’ll readily admit I would have continued to fight this planned arts centre he wanted to bring to town. But I’m certainly not the only one who feels that way.”
“You don’t have to continue that fight, now, do you, Mr. Ramsey?”
Ian had admired how Simon had kept his temper in check.
“Who knows how his family will feel now? They may forge ahead—trying to pay just the heating bills on that monstrous place must cost a small fortune.”
Ian had to concede that Simon had a point, although he felt the defeated and ill family wouldn’t pursue this aggressive plan.
“What about this fistfight you and the victim had at a pub in town?” Higgins had consulted his notes and had read out the date.
Simon had sighed, and Ian had heard the tiredness creep into his voice.
“Look, that was a silly mistake on both our parts. It was after a particularly contentious town meeting. Keith and I both had had too much to drink, and when he hit on my sister, I told him off. He got angry and threw a wild punch that connected. If he’d missed, I’d never have hit him back, but it was a protective instinct. We got pulled apart right away.”
Ian had groaned. It was the first he’d heard that Simon had been protecting Kate. No wonder she was certain Simon hadn’t been the instigator.
After having conferred with Higgins, they’d agreed the evidence to arrest Simon wouldn’t pass the sniff test, and Ian wasn’t about to arrest a man to make his superiors look good. He was also aware that the longer Simon was a suspect with no resolution to the investigation, the more his reputation would be affected.
Ian decided it would be best for everyone if he kept out of Simon’s way today and left Kate alone to settle. He could hardly expect the man to be happy with him right now, but he hoped Simon would feel he’d been treated fairly and would pass that on to his sister.
Ian’s report from Oxford had been filed. No real leads had panned out in his visit there, and he was disappointed. Edgar Worth hadn’t been able to contribute much to the case. Yes, Keith had big plans, which he supported. An extension office in Clarendon Hall would connect the two areas nicely, and with Keith’s planned increase in tourism, this had seemed a good plan. No, with Keith no longer working on the project, he didn’t think he would go forward at this time with an extension office in Bowness. Without the Clarendon name and the use of an office at the Hall, it seemed it would require too much effort for the older man to manage it on his own. None of Keith’s coworkers had added anything of substance to the interview. After hearing of Jack Halsey’s death back in Bowness, Ian felt it had been a huge waste of time.
“You asked for this, guv.” A civilian handed Ian a copy of an article Sommer Clarendon had mentioned during his interview. The family rooms, while off limits to the tour, were never locked, and anyone could have slipped away and found their way to the plant. When asked how a member of the general public would have knowledge of the particular plants he raised, Sommer had mentioned that he’d given an interview in which the Tanghinia plant had been highlighted for its rareness. That article had appeared in the spring issue of Lake District Review.
Ian read through the transcript, zeroing in on Sommer’s description of the plant’s history: “Tanghinia venenifera has lovely, glossy leaves and pretty white, star-shaped flowers with a pink base when it blooms, but it’s known as the ‘Ordeal Bean of Madagascar’ because kings in Madagascar used it to have criminals confess. They thought ingesting it would reveal guilt or innocence. Since most of their subjects died, it was probably a moot point, but the name stuck.”
It was as Simon had indicated: Anyone with a burning desire to murder Keith Clarendon would find the means at hand. Now Ian had to find out who had had the best opportunity and what his or her motive could have been. Thinking of Simon brought Kate back to mind. He thought of her slender neck and how she shivered when he kissed her there.
/> With effort, he tried to put Kate to the back of his mind and to concentrate on the tasks at hand. The inquest on Keith Clarendon was tomorrow morning and would be adjourned until further information came to light. In the afternoon, Keith’s funeral would tie up the rest of his day. He’d be busy testifying at the first and observing who attended the second.
Ian opened his bottom desk drawer and withdrew a much-used briar pipe. He inhaled the scent of his grandfather’s black cherry tobacco, a fortifying aroma that never failed to steady him. He stuck it in the corner of his mouth. He’d never developed the habit of smoking, and there was a ban on smoking inside the station, but the smell and the familiar feel of the stem clamped in his mouth braced him as he drew the Clarendon file toward him and began to review the entire case, starting with the report of the constable who’d responded to the summons to Ramsey Lodge early Saturday morning. There was more than just a mysterious death to compel him—his marriage and his whole future were at stake.
Chapter Forty-Four
“I am the last man to be suspicious of a colleague, but on thinking it over I have the distinct feeling that the Vice-Chancellor’s motives, in button-holing me as he did this afternoon, were at least partly feigned.”
— John Wain, Strike the Father Dead
2 PM