A Death in the Family

by Hazel Holt

  ‘Good heavens.’

  ‘I know. I said he was eccentric. Anyway, my father was born – and christened. I suppose that’s the “evidence” Bernard found, and then the later marriage certificate.’

  ‘Well, yes. What an amazing story. But surely there must have been a terrific scandal – your grandparents living together without being married?’

  ‘Oh, it was given out that they’d been married, quietly in London, and then, of course, when my great-grandfather finally died, that’s exactly what they did. It was pretty clever of Bernard, tracking that down.’

  ‘He was very thorough.’

  ‘Yes, he was that. Probably the only acceptable quality he had. He was a really nasty piece of work – but I expect you’ve discovered that for yourself.’

  I nodded. ‘Before all this – all the genealogy business – I’d never seen much of him. We all just thought of him as a terrific bore to be avoided at all cost. But now…’

  ‘Now you know a bit more?’

  ‘The awful way he treated Janet and poor Luke and – well, so many things!’

  The waiter brought the coffee and I was amused to see that he set the tray down in front of Fred for him to pour out.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Fred said, pushing down the plunger of the cafetière, ‘he was a genuine twenty-four carat bastard.’ He poured the coffee neatly and passed the jug of cream to me. ‘That’s why I went to his funeral – just to make sure he’d gone.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ I said, ‘that he didn’t cause any sort of upset in your family with all his “research”.’

  Fred smiled. ‘No – though I can well believe he’d have wanted to. I was glad my father told me all those years ago. It helped, in a way, to understand why he felt compelled to make such a success, why he devoted all his time to the business – I suppose he felt he had something to prove. Ridiculous really, but people do and feel the oddest things. Now I have no wish at all to prove anything, and, of course, I’ve never had to. There’s always been a lot of money – even after Jessica’s settlement and getting Charlie started!’

  ‘Lucky you!’

  ‘Yes, I have been, haven’t I? And I’ve really enjoyed my life, especially now I’ve got Estelle. I hope you’re happy too, Sheila.’

  I smiled. ‘Obviously things have never been the same since Peter died, but in other ways I’ve been very lucky, and, yes, I am happy.’

  Fred smiled again. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘And now I’m going to tell you something that will make you even happier.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘The best thing about all Bernard’s digging back into the family tree is the fact that he wasn’t a Prior at all.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Not just not a Prior, but not even English.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘His parents couldn’t have children, tried for ages with no luck, so when they were living in France (his father was attached to the Paris branch of his bank for several years) they adopted a baby there. Pretended it was their own.’

  ‘Really? But how did you know?’

  ‘My mother knew Bernard’s mother quite well, knew her before she was married, actually, so she heard all about it. They wanted it kept quiet – I can’t think why, but there you are – and so my mother never told anyone, except my father of course. He told me, years later, when I was grown up. He mentioned it quite casually, I can’t remember in what connection, but he obviously didn’t think it was any big deal. I suppose he wasn’t that interested.’

  ‘Did Bernard know?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘But no one else?’

  ‘He was very keen to keep it a secret. I think he felt it diminished him in some way – weird!’

  ‘So Janet never knew?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. I did consider telling her after Bernard died, but then I thought, what’s the point? Do feel free, though, to tell anyone you like.’

  I laughed. ‘I must say I would be tempted!’

  As I drove back along the motorway I played with the idea of spreading the news – it would certainly give a certain grim satisfaction to Veronica and others that Bernard had injured – but I decided that only my cousin Hilda would appreciate the full irony of the situation, so she would be the only one I would tell, apart, that is, from Michael, Thea and Rosemary, who I tell everything.

  It was beginning to get dark by the time I got home (the evenings were drawing in) but I felt I had to let the animals out since they’d been in all day. Tris did his usual tour of the garden, announcing his presence to any animal marauder by short barks, but he came in quite quickly, eager for supper. Foss, however, vanished completely and even an hour later still hadn’t come back. I wandered round the garden in the dark calling him and rattling the tin his treats are kept in, but to no avail. He does this sometimes, a punishment for being shut up all day, and I suppose I ought to be used to it by now, but if you’re silly about animals you never do get used to it, and so I got a snack (I really didn’t need much supper after that large lunch) and sat by the television, eating it without any appetite, getting up at frequent intervals to see if he’d come back and calling again, though with little hope. Finally, after another hour, when I was washing up my plate and glass, Tris, who’d accompanied me into the kitchen in case there was the chance of more food, looked at the back door and gave a little whine. And, of course, when I opened the door, Foss strolled nonchalantly in (‘Have you been calling me?’) and stood beside his dish expecting me to feed him, and I thought how furious I’d have been if a person had treated me that way, but there I was, overwhelmed with relief, putting food in his dish and saying stupid things like, ‘You came in! Good boy!’ After all that I was only fit for an early night and a soothing read of Pillars of the House.

  Denzil phoned the next morning about measuring up the stairs for the new carpet.

  ‘I can fit you in this afternoon, if you like, Mrs Malory. I could do you on my way home, about five-fifteen, if that’s all right.’

  He didn’t take long to do the measuring, even hampered by Foss, who considers the stairs his own particular domain and sat resolutely on each stair, obstructing Denzil as he worked his way down, and when it was finished he said that yes a cup of tea would be very nice thank you. So we sat in the kitchen and he told me about how his girlfriend wanted them to go to Crete for a holiday but he was saving up for a new bike.

  ‘What sort have you got?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a 750 Kawasaki.’

  ‘Oh, my son had one of those, though his was only a 400. He loved it and hated getting rid of it, but he really did need a car.’

  ‘That’s what Denise wants me to get,’ Denzil said, sighing heavily. ‘She says she’s sick of being out in all weathers on the back of the bike.’

  ‘But you still want another bike? What sort – a Harley?’

  ‘No.’ Denzil considered the point carefully. ‘Your Harley’s a marvellous bike, and so’s your big BMW, but, no, the bike I want is something really special.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s a Laverda, an Italian job. There’s not many of those about. You’d feel pretty special riding one of them! And,’ he went on warming to his theme, ‘perfect for the roads down here, the way it performs on the bends – you could get from here to Bridgwater in half an hour!’

  ‘A Laverda,’ I said. ‘I believe I know someone who has one of those.’

  ‘Really? Not local is he?’

  ‘No, he lives in Bristol.’

  ‘I thought he wouldn’t be local – I’d know if he was. Like I said, they’re pretty rare. That’s why I was so surprised to see one that night.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was a dreadful night, wind and rain and I was late, so I took the back road to Dunster and I don’t know if you know it, there’s a sort of lay-by just before you get to the lane that runs up to where those holiday cottages are. Anyway, as I went by I saw this Laverda parked there. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d have
stopped and had a proper look, but, like I said, I was late and I had to get on. Funny thing, though, seeing it there, just like that.’

  ‘When was this? Do you remember?’

  ‘It was the 23rd of last month – semi-final of the skittles tournament, that’s where I was going.’

  ‘What time would that have been?’

  ‘Oh,’ he thought for a moment, ‘it would have been just after a quarter to nine. Yes, that’s it, I needed to be at The Red Lion at Dunster by nine – I’m in the skittles team and I was in the last session – and I was running late. Like I said, if it hadn’t been for that I’d have stopped and had a good look at that Laverda.’ He looked at me enquiringly and I felt obliged to make some excuse for my cross-questioning.

  ‘I just wondered,’ I said, ‘if by any chance the bike could have belonged to my friend, but he wouldn’t have been there then.’

  Denzil finished his tea and got up. ‘Right then, I’ll be getting along. Mr Davis says he’ll have to order the carpet you want, but it shouldn’t be long. We’ll give you a ring when it’s in and I’ll try and fit you in as soon as possible. Thanks for the tea.’

  After he’d gone I sat for a long time, trying to make sense of what he’d told me. I was quite sure that the bike Denzil had seen belonged to Luke. But Luke had telephoned Christine from the restaurant just before eight – she’d been quite positive about that – and even on a Laverda, there was no way he could have got all the way from Bristol in three quarters of an hour. Anyway, he’d been in the restaurant cooking delicious meals for his regular customers. But somehow I knew that Luke had been there.

  On an impulse I picked up the telephone and dialled Janet’s number.

  ‘Sheila, how lovely to hear from you. I do hope we can get together soon, there’s so much going on here, it’s so exciting, I long to tell you all about it.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I would rather like to come and see you. There’s something I want to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh. Really?’ Her voice lost its enthusiastic note and she sounded wary.

  ‘Would tomorrow be too soon? About eleven?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that would be fine.’

  I put the phone down and went back into the kitchen, emptied the teapot and washed up the two cups and saucers, trying not to think too much about what I wanted to say to Janet tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When I arrived I found Luke was there too.

  ‘Wasn’t that lucky,’ Janet said brightly. ‘Luke’s just dropped in to bring me some of his marvellous cheesecake and when he heard you were coming he said he’d stay and say hello. Do sit down. Would you like some coffee – and a piece of the cheesecake, of course?’

  ‘Hello, Luke,’ I said. ‘You didn’t come on your bike then? At least I didn’t see it outside.’

  ‘No.’ He gave me a slight, nervous smile. ‘I walked – the restaurant’s not far from here. I need the exercise.’

  ‘It certainly is a remarkable bike,’ I went on, ‘in the sense, that is, of being remarked upon. On the night of the 23rd of last month, for example, in the lay-by near the holiday cottage.’ There was an almost palpable silence. I waited for a moment and then went on. ‘I don’t know how you managed it, not with that very firm alibi, but I’m quite sure it was you who tried to kill your father.’

  ‘No, Sheila, no!’ Janet tried to get to her feet, but Luke quietly restrained her and they sat side by side on the sofa, facing me.

  ‘Well, Luke,’ I said, ‘am I right?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, quite right.’

  ‘It wasn’t what you think,’ Janet said, becoming agitated. ‘It was my fault, not Luke’s – you must believe that!’

  Luke put his hand over hers. ‘It’s all right,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’ll tell her. I’ll explain everything.’

  ‘I think I can understand why you did it,’ I said. ‘I just can’t work out how.’

  ‘Well, you know how things have been,’ Luke said, ‘and they were getting worse. He discovered that Mother and I had been meeting secretly. There was a terrible row and he forbade her to see me ever again. It was very difficult, he hardly let her out of his sight, but she did manage to phone me a couple of times. I tried to persuade her to leave him and come to us, Yves and me, but she was too frightened.’

  ‘He would have tried to destroy them,’ Janet broke in. ‘He said he could have the restaurant closed down, things like that, if I went away.’

  ‘Rubbish of course,’ Luke said, ‘but enough to frighten her. It couldn’t go on like that. There was only one thing to be done. Mother told me they were going down to Taviscombe for a bit and it seemed like an ideal opportunity to get rid of him once and for all. The moment Mother saw a chance of a perfect alibi for herself I’d come down and – and do it.’

  ‘He liked to spend the evenings going over his notes,’ Janet said. She seemed to have recovered her composure and spoke quite calmly. ‘So, even before he complained of being ill during the day, I’d arranged with Luke that I’d take the things round to you that evening.’

  ‘We – that is, I – had got it all planned. Mother took the key of the cottage and had a copy made in Taviscombe one day when she was doing the shopping, then she put it in an envelope and sent it to me. I was to let myself in and then, when I’d done it, I was going to break a window and make it look like a burglary that had gone wrong.’

  ‘I’d got a mobile phone,’ Janet said, ‘the man in the shop showed me how to use it. Bernard didn’t know I had it of course. As soon as I got into the taxi I phoned Luke on his mobile and let him know that I’d left the house.’

  ‘And you started out then?’ I asked Luke.

  ‘No. I was well on my way by then,’ he said. ‘I was at Brent Knoll service station waiting until a quarter to eight when I phoned Christine.’ He smiled. ‘I phoned her from the café there and said I was phoning from my restaurant. One lot of restaurant noises sound very like any other.’

  ‘That was neat,’ I said. He gave a sort of nod. ‘But the rest of your alibi,’ I went on. ‘Everyone seems to think you were in the restaurant all night preparing all that marvellous food.’

  ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t all that marvellous that night,’ Luke said. ‘I cooked everything beforehand – casseroles of pheasant and pigeon, made-up dishes like that, things that Yves could warm up in the microwave. I was very upset at having to do that,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’ve always prided myself on everything being freshly prepared. People seemed to accept the food that evening, but it wasn’t something I was proud of doing.’

  ‘Unlike trying to kill your father?’ I suggested. He didn’t reply so I went on. ‘But you were back at the restaurant before all the customers left.’

  ‘That bike is amazing,’ Luke said, ‘perfect for minor roads, takes the bends like a dream – I made fantastic time. Yes, I was back in good time to do my usual round of the restaurant. It’s funny how people take things at their face value. They see what they expect to see. I was there at the end of the evening so they thought I’d been there all the time. Why wouldn’t they?’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It was odd,’ Luke said thoughtfully. ‘I let myself in with the key and the lights were on and everything. I didn’t really know what to do. I’d been bracing myself for confronting him, having a scene and then – then killing him. But when I saw him in the chair, asleep as I thought, I was so relieved. I just hit him hard with the heavy mallet I’d brought and got out as fast as I could. I was halfway down the path when I realised I hadn’t broken the window and done all the things I was supposed to do to make it look like a burglary. I went out into the back garden, through the kitchen and did what I had to and left.’

  ‘So you didn’t go back into the sitting room to make sure your father was dead?’

  He shuddered. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t. I just went back to the bike and got away really fast…’

  His voice died away and there was silence for a whil
e. Then Janet spoke.

  ‘What are you going to do, Sheila?’

  ‘Do?’

  ‘Are you going to tell the police?’

  ‘Tell them what? You can’t be charged with killing Bernard if he was dead already. There may be some sort of charge – conspiracy or something, I really don’t know.’

  ‘If only we’d waited,’ Janet said. ‘Just one more day, then it would have been all right.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you do see,’ she said, ‘how desperate it was, how we had to do something!’

  I sighed. ‘I can see why you thought so.’

  Luke stood up. ‘You mustn’t blame Mother,’ he said. ‘None of it was her fault. You know how it’s been.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I know.’ I stood up too.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I really don’t know.’ I moved to the door. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

  Janet came over quickly towards me and took my arm. ‘Please, Sheila, please don’t spoil it all for us.’

  I shook my arm free and went out, got into my car and drove away, along the road and up onto the Downs where I stopped because I was shaking. I turned the engine off and sat there, staring ahead of me but not really seeing anything. I must have stayed like that for a good five minutes, then my mind began to work again and I realised that my main feeling was that of anger. I was furious at the way they’d used me, a perfect alibi for Janet, a witness when she discovered the body. I thought of how upset I’d been for her, how much sympathy and compassion I’d shown her, of the charade that she and Luke had played out when he came to see her after the murder, and all the time…

  I badly needed something to help me pull myself together. I couldn’t face going down into Clifton and trying to find a parking space so that I could get a drink in a pub or a cup of tea in a café. I scrabbled about in the glove compartment and found a rather old bar of chocolate and ate it all. When I’d finished I felt a bit sick, but more able to continue my journey. I put the car radio on and drove back along the motorway with music from blessed Radio Three blocking out the thoughts I didn’t want to consider.