The Green Remains (The Nora Tierney Mysteries Book 2)

by Marni Graff

  Nora opened her laptop. The two lodging couples had checked out this morning, and the whole place felt strangely quiet. She suspected they were fleeing after the assault on Agnes.

  She clicked on Keith’s manuscript and continued to read it, notebook and pencil ready to jot down anything of interest that she could use or, more to the point, which would allude to a reason that someone could want Keith out of the way. Chunks of script flew past her:

  The extensive gardens at Holehird in Windermere belong to the Lakeland Horticultural Society. Rockeries and scree beds capture in miniature the essence of the Cumbrian landscape that surrounds them. Think of these gardens as counterpoints to the majesty of the mountains surrounding them.

  Nora saw Sommer’s influence on his son here. Keith noted the gardens at John Ruskin’s Brantwood as his personal favorites. He described Ruskin as a “troubled genius” and recounted his influence on Proust, Gandhi and even Tolstoy. Interesting, Nora thought, but hardly the stuff of murderers. No mention of Ruskin’s penchant for poisonous plants, although she knew the Pre-Raphaelite era included a fascination with arsenic.

  Munching on an oatmeal cookie, Nora read on.

  *

  3:15 PM

  Simon returned from visiting the family solicitor, who advised truth and patience. He told Simon about his conversation with Ian Travers that morning, during which he had stressed that his client had assisted the police to the limit of his abilities, and further questioning would be seen as harassment. He also told Simon he doubted the strength of the case against him since he hadn’t been arrested last night. Nora had seen Simon’s drawn look, and she realized that despite his faith in Ian, this was having its effect on him.

  He and Nora settled into work mode and spent the afternoon together, Nora outlining a story and Simon suggesting illustration layouts for their second book. She wrote some potential copy, trying to stay focused on fairies instead of poisons, while Simon sketched. She had her fairies arguing about who slept where inside their tree house, a veiled attempt to educate young readers about compromise. Nora made minor changes as they talked, their collaboration helping her polish the action.

  “Let me find that book on Arthur Rackham’s illustrations,” Simon said and disappeared into his studio, unlocking it.

  Nora could understand why he was locking the studio, although it seemed a bit late for that, but it didn’t explain why he’d kept her out it. Come to think of it, he’d never fully explained why he’d borrowed that plant from Sommer. Nora cleaned her glasses, reflecting on these last few days. She was upset with Kate’s decision to return Ian’s ring but felt certain they’d reconcile as soon as Keith’s murderer was found. That would take the spotlight off Simon and allow Kate and Ian to find their way back to each other.

  What was she missing in the situation? She couldn’t think of anyone who had been near either Simon’s studio or Clarendon Hall who had a motive to kill Keith. Be unhappy with him, yes, but kill him?

  Nora cradled her belly and turned to a back page in her notebook. She listed all the people with direct access to Simon’s studio:

  Simon, Kate, Agnes, Maeve, Daniel

  She discounted all but Daniel, based on his behavior toward her, and Maeve, based on personal prejudice. Although how did she know Maeve hadn’t had a personal relationship with Keith? Maybe he’d thrown her over for someone else, and she was pissed. Nora warmed to the thought and put a star by Maeve’s name. She refused to believe Simon could have had anything to do with Keith’s death, despite his weird behavior concerning the studio.

  She couldn’t think of anyone else to add. She knew the Barnum girls didn’t go into the family rooms. They cleaned hers as her pregnancy progressed and left her fresh towels, but both Kate and Simon took theirs from the linen closet. Everyone did their own wash in the laundry area under the back stairs. Kate ran the vacuum and duster over Simon’s rooms, and he cleaned his own bathroom and changed his sheets, tasks Nora had seen him do in her time living here. They made him seem more like a Renaissance man than ever in her mind—a man who cleaned up after himself! But she was digressing. She hurriedly wrote her list for Clarendon Hall before Simon returned:

  Antonia, Sommer, Cook, Gillian, Robbie, Daniel

  Nora scrutinized this list. Daniel made both lists. She knew the docents from the National Trust didn’t enter the family rooms, but someone could have slipped away, although that seemed like a big chance when he or she wouldn’t know where the family was at any given moment. And how did that get the poison into Keith? Of course, the Hall must have daily or weekly cleaning help from the village. She made a note to ask Kate and sat back, massaging the hard ball her uterus formed. Who was she missing?

  What about Glenn Hackney? They didn’t really know when he’d come to Bowness, only when he’d checked in at Ramsey Lodge. Nora pictured him leaving the lodge this morning with Tony Warner.

  She’d been putting Darby’s leash on to take him on a walk when the two men came downstairs.

  “Morning, Nora,” Tony said. Today’s costume was tweeds with an argyle jumper. “Going walkies?”

  Nora thought only Tony could sound like the Queen Mum and not think a thing of it. She nodded to both men and refused to share her itinerary.

  “Hello, Miss Tierney.” Glenn took a brochure from the rack in the hall. “Here we are, Dove Cottage.”

  “There’s a map on the back,” Tony noted. Both men perused it.

  “I think we can jolly well find our way there,” Glenn pronounced, leading the way to the car park.

  “Do have a good day, Nora, whatever that entails,” Tony smirked as he left.

  Sitting at Simon’s table, Nora wondered what they had up their mutual sleeves in this unlikely alliance. They’d been the only ones not to flee after the attack on Agnes. Perhaps it was nothing more than two reprobates recognizing each other. Still, she added Glenn’s name to her list but left Tony’s off. Not liking someone was not a good enough reason to appear on her suspect list, although it hadn’t stopped her in Maeve’s case. As far as Tony was concerned, she’d add him, too, if evidence arose to support her doing so.

  From the studio came the sound of cabinets banging shut. Quickly, Nora moved on to motive, and here her thoughts whirled with imagination. Had Keith been gay and hid it from his coworkers? Or maybe he’d dodged the advances of Glenn Hackney and set off a murderous bout of revenge? But what about her room being tossed? Had she been less discreet than she’d thought, and someone knew of the stolen thumb drive? Could Keith have uncovered something that meant he had to die?

  Nora warmed to this theme. His death certainly was premeditated. Someone needed to have access to that plant and then had to add it to whatever drink Keith had imbibed just before going out on the lake. It couldn’t have been at the meal he had had with his parents, or they would have been poisoned, too. Unless someone in his family was involved.

  She couldn’t see any reason for Sommer wanting to murder his only child, and while his arms worked fine, being confined to a wheelchair, even a mechanical one, did pose logistical problems. Ditto for Edmunde. She’d never seen the man, but it seemed he was in worse shape then his brother. Antonia couldn’t be a suspect to Nora’s mind; her grief seemed too real and too raw, although on consideration, she supposed the woman’s fragile mental status could have led to a psychotic break.

  The Coles were an enigma in terms of motive. Murdering Keith wouldn’t further Gillian’s career; as far as Nora could tell, she had her hands full caring for the two disabled brothers and had had no responsibilities toward Keith. Robbie just seemed like a nice kid. But then nice kids were known to be murderers.

  “Here it is. Check this out,” Simon said as he returned to her side, turning pages of Rackham’s illustrations for J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens.

  Nor
a closed her notebook with a snap. She didn’t want to embarrass Simon by reminding him of the fix he was in. Nor did she wish to annoy him. Renaissance man or not, Simon was vocal in his disapproval of her snooping and especially sensitive when he was the reason for it. Where could she turn for help?

  *

  5 PM

  Nora reached her favorite bench facing Bowness Bay and brought out her mobile. Simon had accepted her explanation of needing a break and had gone back to his studio to pack up the proof pages to mail to their printer. He insisted on carrying on meeting their deadlines. “I won’t have your work jeopardized, Nora,” he’d said when she’d suggested leaving it for another day.

  She looked in her contacts at the number she’d stored there but never used, weighing the pros and cons of making this call. Taking a deep breath, she hit “call.” Her pulse increased with every ring, and just as she decided he wasn’t in the office, he answered.

  “Barnes.”

  “Declan, it’s Nora.” If he said “Nora who?” she would hang up and wobble back to the lodge in humiliation.

  “Hallo!” Declan Barnes voice was deeper than she remembered, but just as warm. “How are you?”

  She ignored the thrill that shot through her and tried to focus on the reason for her call. “Really well, although I’m as big as a house.” Nora mentally kicked herself for the image contained in that response.

  “Any luck deciding on his name yet? I know you have your lists made. Declan is very nice.”

  “Very funny.” What was it with everyone and this baby’s name? Still, he made her smile. “Still whittling down my favorites,” she said. She’d forgotten Declan knew from their time in Oxford that she made lists. She had to resist her impulse to ask him personal questions just to hear his warm voice. “That’s not why I called, though. I need to ask your advice.”

  “Of course.” He sounded pleased. “Fire away.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t be so pleased when he learned she wanted to help Simon. Nora succinctly explained how Simon had become a suspect in the death of Keith Clarendon due to the presence of the poisonous plant in his studio. “He’s been brought in for questioning twice now, and he’s given statements.”

  “He’s obtained legal counsel?” Declan asked.

  “Yes. And his solicitor has spoken to the senior investigating officer, too, and will be present at any future questionings.” She added that the officer was Kate’s fiancé, Detective Inspector Ian Travers.

  “I remember speaking with Travers this summer. But Nora, if he had concrete and overwhelming evidence against Simon, he’d have arrested him by now. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Was she imagining a touch of fancy in his voice? “I suppose so. I just feel so helpless, when it’s obvious Simon wasn’t involved.”

  There was a pause, and she thought at first that Declan had hung up.

  “Maybe it’s obvious to you, Nora, but it might not be to Ian Travers or to his superiors.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She bit her lip. She decided not to tell him about the assault on Agnes in her room. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  This time, Declan’s answer was swift and firm. “No. And I don’t want to hear you’re involving yourself in this investigation, Nora. I thought after what happened in Oxford you’d given up meddling with the professionals. This is not something you should be doing.”

  She tamped down her annoyance. He could get to her quicker than anyone she knew. “I’m just asking if there’s anything else you can think of that I could do to clear Simon’s name.” She tried to appear reasonable and already regretted calling him. “I’m not about to put myself or this baby in jeopardy.”

  Declan’s answer chilled her. “That’s what you thought the last time.”

  *

  6:30 PM

  Nora had hurried back to the lodge after her less-than-satisfactory call to Declan Barnes. The increasing menace she’d felt around her since the assault on Agnes seemed almost palpable. Before Kate arrived home, Nora and Simon agreed not to bring up Ian’s name or the broken engagement.

  “Let’s have a quiet evening,” Simon urged. “She defended me and got carried away. If she needs to talk about it, she’ll bring it up. This will blow over and make their relationship even stronger.”

  “I hope so,” Nora agreed. “I like Ian—usually.”

  “Leave Ian alone on all fronts for now.” Simon had a warning finger in the air when the door opened to admit Kate.

  They put on smiling faces for her. She carried Chinese takeaway, obviously a Darby favorite from the fuss he made over her bags. The pungent odors of moo shu pork and curried chicken quickly filled Simon’s kitchen.

  “Enough work, peasants!” Kate pronounced. “I’ve had too much tea and not enough protein today.” She unpacked cardboard and foil containers while Simon put out plates and utensils.

  Nora knew Kate well enough to see through her forced gaiety. Her stomach growled in response to the tantalizing aromas. “I think little Sylvester needs food, too,” she said, stacking the books they’d been using and clearing the table. “It means ‘of the forest.’” She saw the startled look on the siblings’ faces and flapped her hand. “Just kidding.”

  “How’s Agnes?” Simon asked, opening a waxed paper bag and crunching on a crisply fried wonton.

  “Thrilled to have Hazel down and to be waited on for a change by her younger sister. Her headache’s gone, although the lump where the stitches are is quite sore.” Kate opened a small dish of orange sauce and offered it to her brother.

  Nora slathered hoisin sauce on a pancake and wrapped it around the shredded pork and vegetable filling. Her thoughts strayed back to her lists and the questions she had. “Kate, you said Keith didn’t have a girlfriend?”

  Kate looked up from twirling lo mein noodles onto her chopsticks. “Not that I know, but with him away in Oxford so much, who knows?” She chewed her noodles, pointing her chopstick at Nora. “He could have a honey there we don’t know about.”

  Nora chewed a huge bite of her pancake and swallowed. “Delicious.” She sipped her water, running down her mental list of questions. “Who does the cleaning at Clarendon Hall?”

  “The Trust takes care of the public areas. Cook does the kitchen, but I think someone in town does the family rooms about twice a week. Don’t know who it is right now.” Kate slurped up her lo mein. “Why do you ask?”

  Handing Darby a crunchy noodle, Simon answered for her. “Because Nora has an insatiable need to poke her nose into other people’s business.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.”

  — Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain

  Tuesday, 26th October

  10 AM

  “Time of death is estimated between 7 PM Friday night and 2 AM Saturday morning.”

  Nora watched Dr. Milo Foreman give his testimony at the inquest into Keith Clarendon’s death. Dressing this morning, she’d felt flutters of anxiety about testifying.

  Kate and Simon flanked her on chairs set up in Kendal’s County Hall. Nora noted Kate kept her eyes forward, not looking around for Ian, who sat at the back of the room near Sommer Clarendon and Gillian Cole.

  Nora remembered the first inquest she’d attended, last summer in Oxford. She wasn’t a witness then and had had the luxury of watching the proceedings with interest, remembering Declan Barnes giving evidence. She’d admired his composure and appearance. She wondered where he was today and what he’d thought after they’d hung up the day before. It had been impulsive to call him and expect him to be supportive of her efforts. She had no business calling him for any reason. At that moment, Simon reached out to squeeze her hand, and she felt a twinge of guilt that brought
her attention back to Dr. Foreman.

  “The body was clothed in green shorts and white Reebok T-shirt, worn under a black windcheater. Black sweat pants were found in a rucksack clipped to an inside rib of the scull. The pack also contained the wrapper from a tuna salad sandwich and the dregs of tea in an insulated bottle. There were no visible signs of external premortem violence or wounds. Toxicology reports show no controlled drugs but a high level of a respiratory and cardiac toxin also found in the tea bottle, identified as belonging to the Tanghinia family.”

  There was a gasp from the audience as Milo interrupted his recitation to sip from the water bottle at his elbow. Nora realized the information she’d been privy to had not been common knowledge.

  The coroner asked a question. “Have you identified where this poison would have been obtainable, and also, what would the deceased have experienced after this ingestion?”

  “The poison comes from a rare Tanghinia venenifera plant, which has been found in two locations in Bowness.” Milo wiped his forehead with a bright white handkerchief.

  Nora realized this next part was painful for him to recite in court in front of the boy’s father. She liked him for that.

  “The poison affects the cardiac and respiratory system. There would have been initial nausea and dizziness with trembling and muscle weakness, which would account for him being unable to row closer to shore. As his breathing became more difficult and his heartbeat irregular, he would either have had convulsions or lapsed into a coma. From the lack of bruising, I feel it more likely he fell into a comatose state before succumbing to full cardiac arrest.”