Mercy or Mercenary?

by Sheila Parker

  ‘It’s only Friday and you’ve already spoken to them all and made the necessary arrangements,’ said Isabel, noting the dates and times written against each name.

  ‘Yes, apart from three producers – two who weren’t available and one who’s on holiday – everyone was very co-operative. I’ll leave early Monday morning, stay with my cousin in Birmingham overnight, and see the two actors in Stratford on Tuesday. It’s a pity you can’t do the London trip. It would do you good to—’

  ‘Ralph needs me here,’ interrupted Isabel. ‘In any case, he asked you to go.’

  Elspeth looked from one to the other and although relieved that Isabel looked better for an undisturbed sleep, was glad she had arranged a surprise for her friend. Pushing the cheeseboard towards Duncan so that he could help himself, she told Isabel, ‘Joanna’s coming to see Ralph tomorrow afternoon and I’ve arranged a hair appointment for you – my treat.’

  ‘There’s no need…’ began Isabel, pushing her straggly hair behind her ears then, aware of Duncan’s gaze, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s very kind and thoughtful of you. I must admit I haven’t bothered about my appearance recently.’

  You’ve worn the same skirt for the last three weeks, thought Elspeth. And would have worn the first dress at hand for the party if I hadn’t looked out a black cocktail dress. Even so, this had hung on Isabel and looking at her, anyone would think it was she who was ill, not Ralph. There was nothing wrong with his eyesight; he must have noticed her drastic weight loss.

  ‘A stairlift would certainly make life easier for both of you,’ said Duncan. ‘Ralph could then spend part of the day downstairs, thus saving you time and energy.’ Then, as it occurred to him, ‘How on earth did you manage Monday evening?’

  ‘With the help of a male nurse and with great difficulty,’ said Elspeth while Isabel added, ‘Ralph was very adamant in his refusal when we suggested a stairlift. Joanna, who’s his niece, tried to persuade him but he was really rude to her.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’ Duncan pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Thanks for lunch, it was most enjoyable,’ and glancing at Isabel who was pushing a small piece of cheese around her plate, ‘has anything been decided about photographs to be used in Adare’s biography?’

  ‘Leo has chosen several, all in costume when playing supporting roles, but Hugo isn’t very happy with his choice. They’re meeting next week to discuss them.’

  ‘What about some when he was a child, his role in the school play when his potential was recognised?’

  ‘It’s possible his aunts who live in Sidmouth may have some.’ Isabel picked up Duncan’s and her own plate. ‘Ralph wants me to read him the first six chapters to make sure nothing has been omitted.’

  ‘That’s highly unlikely,’ said Elspeth. ‘Besides, you read them to him only ten days ago.’

  Isabel shrugged. ‘He can’t remember that, and if it makes him happy, I don’t mind.’

  ‘You’re marvellous, and I’m sorry he doesn’t appreciate everything you’re doing for him.’ Then, as the thought occurred to her, ‘He’ll probably fall asleep and then want you to start that particular chapter again.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  What’s Ralph going to say? thought Isabel as she gazed at her reflection and then up at the stylist who said, ‘It looks lovely and the style suits you.’

  Isabel’s dark brown hair had been shoulder-length but now, considerably shorter, fell in soft curls about her ears. The girl knew of Ralph’s illness and thoughtfully refrained from saying that he probably wouldn’t even notice. Instead, she said, ‘Come and see us again soon, just for a trim. I’m sure you’ll find it much easier to look after now it’s short.’

  ‘Isabel, you’ve had your hair cut! It looks lovely,’ exclaimed Joanna, who was standing in the hall while Elspeth nodded approvingly, at the same time thinking that if she couldn’t persuade Isabel to buy some new clothes she would have to do something about it herself. She then heard Isabel thank Joanna for visiting Ralph.

  ‘That’s no problem. At first, he was quite talkative then he became rather confused, thought I was you, then Elspeth. I told him that I’ll come again next week but I doubt that he’ll remember, so if you want to do anything in connection with the current biography or just go out for a drive, please do. A complete change would do you good.’

  ‘Thanks, but I expect it’ll be a visit to the library.’

  5

  Isabel placed the printed chapters in a manila folder, pushed this aside and reached for the notes which Duncan had assiduously researched.

  They had both been surprised to learn that Leo Adare had indulged in relationships with younger men and expressed curiosity about his current partner. Isabel had spoken to Hugo Forrester about this, but he was unable to offer any information about Leo’s private life. He had, however, suggested that Duncan might learn something from one of Leo’s contemporaries when he met them.

  Isabel nodded approvingly as she read Duncan’s notes again. As usual, they were concise and brief and she was glad that, even though it was Sunday morning, she had done this. She had intended to do this the previous day, but Ralph had become fractious during the morning, demanding her time and attention, frustrated that he was unable to communicate.

  And now he’s dead, thought Isabel, worried that the bottle containing Ralph’s tablets was empty. What had happened to them? There was no way Ralph could get to the bathroom and Joanna had assured the chief inspector that the only time she had left her uncle had been to answer the doorbell. It was obvious they would all be questioned again. In the meantime, the post-mortem would be the next day, Monday, and the inquest later in the week.

  Leo Adare finished reading the review, grunted, and threw the paper in the corner. He had been surprised to learn that Zak Amory, his young protégé and later lover, had a supporting role at the Old Vic in Bristol and was receiving glowing reviews.

  For a moment, Zak’s face flashed before him, his jet-black hair cut short and spiky, the bright green eyes and the cheeky grin, and Leo briefly considered a visit to the Old Vic while on his next visit to his cottage in the Mendips. Shifting in his armchair, Leo grunted again, knowing that such a visit would incite his current lover’s wrath and Dominic, for all his loving ways, could be vicious. He had never known his predecessor’s name and profession, and it was wiser for things to stay that way.

  Easing his large, overweight frame into a more comfortable position, Leo turned his thoughts to his biography and Ralph McGuire. He had known from his weekly phone call to Isabel – sometimes he spoke to Elspeth – that Ralph’s condition was deteriorating and had been sorry to learn of his death the previous afternoon, and surprised to hear of the police presence.

  He had been advised by Isabel that Duncan Sinclair would be doing the necessary research while she would be doing the actual writing and agreed to this plan of action. He had also approved the actors, directors and producers to be interviewed and knew that Isabel would reject any adverse comments.

  Leo sighed. He knew his main problem had been and still was his behaviour with some of the young men with whom he had formed relationships. This had caused considerable comment, but Leo reflected that the antics of some of the older actors with young starlets and nymphets were almost grotesque. He was also aware that there were those who were jealous of his success and would resent the publicity caused by his biography but was sure that, despite Ralph’s death, Isabel would complete this to his satisfaction.

  Meanwhile, in his tiny flat in Bristol, Zak Amory was reading the same review, his sensuous lips curving into a mischievous grin. He had been dejected and furious when Leo told him to get out. Their affair was ended, but despite this, he promised himself a successful future on TV or the stage. Unbeknown to Leo, he had auditioned for a role in a popular and well-known soap and, within ten days of leaving Leo, he had received a ca
ll asking him to report to the studio the following Monday.

  That had been two years ago; however, on learning that this character was being written out, Zak had kept his eyes and ears open. He had heard two of the older actors talking about the production of a controversial thriller in Bristol and that the casting director was looking around for a young male actor. At the audition, his portrayal of characters from Shakespeare, Ibsen, Ayckbourn and Tom Stoppard earnt him unexpected praise; he was given the script of the new play and told to spend the next three days studying this. On his return, and after an exhausting morning playing the part of a scheming, malevolent fraudster, he was questioned about his friendship with Leo Adare. This had come as a shock, as only the day before he had read an article about Leo and seen a photograph of him with his black lover, which still infuriated him.

  Three days later, when he had almost given up hope, he was offered the role, told that rehearsals would begin in a fortnight and to find himself accommodation in Bristol. Zak was surprised to learn that it was his facial expressions and body language, when questioned about Adare, which actually won him the role.

  Cutting out the review so that it could be pasted in his scrapbook, Zak reflected it was strange that, on the second day of rehearsals, he should meet Kieran O’Brien, Leo’s nephew. Still elated that he had been chosen for this particular role, Zak had decided to celebrate by having dinner at one of the large hotels near the centre. The fact that he would be dining alone did not deter him.

  On arrival at the restaurant, Kieran had greeted him with a friendly smile and later enquired if he lived in Bristol or was passing through, then, on learning of Zak’s success, had offered his congratulations. Later that evening, after Kieran had finished work and they met at a nearby pub, Zak learnt that Leo Adare was Kieran’s uncle. The play had now been running three months and during that time they had become good friends.

  It was midday when Detective Inspector Kershaw learnt that Duncan Sinclair would be returning early that evening. Elspeth also told him that Joanna would be staying with them for a few days and would be available for further questioning late that afternoon. Keen to meet Sinclair and not wanting to waste time, Kershaw said that if Duncan had not arrived when he called, he would speak to Joanna first. He also intended to visit Alex Gresham (who lived opposite the McGuires and had been very helpful on Saturday) again, but in the meantime there was a post-mortem to attend.

  Once again, Kershaw was astounded at his young sergeant’s stamina as they watched the gory procedure and, for a moment, his thoughts strayed. He had noticed Tom’s enthusiasm when, as a constable, his observation had helped in arresting the team responsible for stealing valuable articles which had been included in some of the Antique Road Show programmes.

  As usual, the pathologist described everything in detail stating that, while his report would be on the inspector’s desk the next morning, Tuesday, it would be some time before he received the results of the further tests which would be carried out.

  ‘Who do you think did it?’ asked Tom as he drove back to the station and, when there was no immediate reply, ‘could Isabel have done it before she went out?’

  ‘It’s possible, although I doubt it. We don’t know, of course, how long it would take Ralph to lose consciousness after an overdose had been administered, whether it would be immediate. Joanna said that Ralph was fully conscious when she went up to see him – that was as soon as she arrived and after Isabel had gone out.’

  ‘What about Elspeth, or even Joanna?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Doubtful. According to Elspeth, she went straight out when Joanna suggested it. She had no reason to go upstairs and, as for Joanna, she was very upset.’

  ‘H’m,’ grunted Tom. ‘I thought she was overdoing it.’

  ‘Time will tell. It’s a pity that Alex Gresham is the only neighbour who saw this mysterious caller. Hopefully, he may have remembered something else by the time we see him later today.’

  ‘Perhaps Hugo Forrester will be able to help us,’ suggested Tom.

  ‘I’m not pinning much faith on his visit.’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything about Ralph’s private life, friends or even acquaintances,’ said Hugo after he had expressed his shock over Ralph’s sudden death. He had come straight from seeing Isabel and Elspeth and now resumed, ‘I knew Ralph was ill, but I was really shaken when Isabel phoned me on Saturday. However, I would like to know what happened.’

  ‘So would we. The post-mortem was earlier this afternoon, but we have to wait for the result of further tests.’

  ‘Why is Ralph’s bedroom sealed?’

  ‘Although our team spent the remainder of Saturday and part of yesterday there, it may be necessary for them to return. However, you’ve known Ralph a long time, is there anything we should know?’

  ‘I didn’t see him very often and while Isabel has never complained, I had the impression that he could be a difficult man. I must admit I was surprised when he married. I don’t think there was any affection on his side, but Ralph obviously knew that Isabel was very intelligent and a hard worker. This soon became clear when, in addition to doing all the research, Isabel was writing most of the biographies. I realise that one should never speak ill of the dead, but not once did he include her in the acknowledgements, or offer any praise at any of the launch parties. However, I’ll make sure that she now receives the acclaim due to her. I’m really pleased that Duncan Sinclair is going to help her.’

  ‘Sinclair,’ echoed Kershaw. ‘I’m seeing him this evening, but in the meantime, what can you tell me about him?’

  ‘How can I help you, Inspector?’ Alex Gresham, who lived in the ground floor flat of the house opposite the McGuires, ushered the two detectives into his sparsely furnished living room and waited until they were seated.

  ‘Would you mind repeating the description of the person who called at the McGuire house on Saturday?’ Kershaw occupied the armchair which faced the window and therefore the road, assuming this was where Gresham usually sat.

  ‘It was the clothes that attracted my attention.’ Gresham sat in an identical chair facing the Inspector, adjusted his glasses and resumed. ‘The wide-brimmed hat was pulled down as far as it would go, the scarf concealed the lower part of the face while the coat made it impossible to tell if he was fat or thin. But he must be fit.’ Gresham then said that the caller had approached from the right. He was walking quite fast and obviously knew where he was going. He didn’t pause or hesitate until he reached the house when he rang the bell. ‘I couldn’t see who opened the door, but he almost knocked them over as he entered.’

  ‘Did you see him leave?’

  ‘No, Inspector. I admit I was curious but I’m not a curtain-twitcher. It just happened that I was working on an article for the National Geographic Magazine, which had to be sent off that evening, and my notes were on that table.’ Gresham indicated notebooks and several sheets of typescript.

  ‘That’s a pity. It would have been useful if you had seen him full face. Unfortunately, Joanna McGuire can’t tell us any more than you. However, have you ever seen this man before?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge, but he probably looks very different when wearing a business suit or casual clothes. He must have been hot wearing that heavy coat.’

  Tom, who had been sat on the upright chair near the window, looked across at Kershaw waiting for further questions but none were forthcoming. Instead, the inspector nodded in his direction and stood up. ‘Thank you for your assistance, Mr Gresham. Should you think of anything else or see this man again, I’d be glad if you could let me know.’

  ‘Of course, but tell me, Inspector; how is Mrs McGuire?’

  ‘She’s very upset naturally, but Elspeth is most supportive.’

  ‘Ah, Elspeth.’ Alex Gresham smiled knowingly. ‘A clever and very attractive woman. I’m surprised she stayed on when Ralph married.’


  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Ralph had a terrible temper and even in those days, on a fine day when the windows were open, you could hear him shouting at her. My wife was alive at the time, knew that Elspeth worked from home and would often ask her over for a cup of tea or coffee. They had a succession of housekeepers until Ralph married when Elspeth, who is an excellent cook and enjoys it, suggested she cook the evening meal and arrange domestic help on a daily basis. However, I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this trivia?’

  ‘It’s most interesting. Do you know how long Ralph has lived there?’

  ‘Always. He and Elspeth lived there as children, so presumably it was left to them by their parents.’

  Kershaw nodded, expressed his thanks again and as they crossed the road to the McGuire household hazarded, ‘I wonder who stands to benefit from Ralph’s death.’

  6

  ‘I don’t understand it. Ralph couldn’t possibly have got to the bathroom, and why should this unexpected visitor, who should never have been allowed upstairs, want to…?’ Isabel’s voice faded.

  ‘That’s a question we’re asking ourselves, Mrs McGuire.’ Detective Inspector Kershaw noted her pale face and spoke quietly. ‘I realise this is very upsetting for you and that I’ve asked you before: do you remember anyone who wears a fedora, a dark green scarf and Austrian-style overcoat?’

  ‘No. As you already know, Ralph had few visitors even when he was well; he was always absorbed in his work. Since the Alzheimer’s began, he didn’t want to see anyone, and I can only assume that this person had a cold or didn’t want to be recognised.’ Once again Isabel’s gaze travelled to the sergeant and then back to the inspector. ‘What did he hope to gain?’