In the Crypt with a Candlestick

by Daisy Waugh

  Egbert looked on in dismay. He stood up.

  ‘That wasn’t very kind,’ he said. ‘India was going to tell you all about her exciting plans to revamp this horrid staff room. She really wants to make it lovely for you all. She just wants you to be happy. But the way you ladies are going, I’m not sure you deserve it.’

  Somehow this only made the women laugh more.

  Egbert looked at Alice. He didn’t know what to do. He would have liked to stalk out of the meeting himself at this point. He would have liked to fire the lot of them, chuck them out their homes, all of which were owned by the estate, and leave them to rot, frankly, after the way they’d treated his darling India. But of course he couldn’t do that. With great power comes great responsibility, as Spider-Man’s Uncle Ben said. Egbert bit back his temper.

  ‘Now look here,’ he said. He knew he needed to regain control of the room – but his heart was dragging him towards India. He couldn’t stand to think of her, crying, all on her own, hiding away in some dark corner of this horrible, hostile house.

  Alice said: ‘Why don’t you carry on here, Egbert? You carry on with the meeting. When these people have stopped laughing. I’ll go and find India. Check she’s all right.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Egbert, gratefully. ‘Very good idea. Thank you Alice. Ladies! Mrs Danvers, if you wouldn’t mind? We do have quite a lot to get through. So if you wouldn’t mind, please, Miss Sharp?… Nurse Ratched? When you’ve quite finished, shall we continue?’

  CHAPTER 28

  There were too many corridors at Tode Hall. Though Alice knew the house well from childhood, it was many years since she’d last been in this section. When she followed India out of the staff room she was briefly disorientated. She didn’t know which way to turn, couldn’t hear India’s footsteps in either direction, so chose a route at random: took a left and a right, and right and a left, and found herself outside the Long Gallery.

  The Hall was packed with burglar alarms and she was afraid that by stepping into the Long Gallery she might set one of them off. She paused, uncertain where to turn, was about to call out India’s name when she heard whispered, angry voices in the corridor behind her: Carfizzi and someone else – Dominic. She recognised his actorish vowels.

  ‘I’m offended, Mr Carfizzi. I don’t want it. What are you implying?’

  She tiptoed closer, the better to hear.

  But her figure must have cast a shadow, or maybe she made a sound. In any case, the two men sensed her presence and stopped talking. Mr Carfizzi, having rearranged his face into a polite smile, said he looked forward to welcoming her properly later, and stalked away.

  Dominic was much more friendly. He held out his arms. There was a Molton Brown shopping bag hanging from one of them. Made him look a bit like a scarecrow. ‘Alice! Welcome to Tode Hall!’ he cried.

  Alice didn’t want Dominic to put his arms around her, but it was too late. She endured the hug, and the sharp bag banging against her. Thanked him for his welcome.

  ‘Forgive my horrible manners!’ he said, releasing her at last. ‘I had every intention of dropping by yesterday, to welcome you to our happy clan. There’s a marvellous tree in my garden, weighed down with the most gorgeous apples, and I was going to deliver a little basket of them to your door…’ He gave her a charming, wolfish grin. ‘It would have been a cross between Red Riding Hood and one of those US suburban horror movies.’

  Alice laughed.

  ‘You’re in the Gardener’s House aren’t you? Lucky thing! How are you finding it? A bit quiet after London probably. It took me years to get to grips with the peace and quiet. Now I couldn’t survive without it.’

  Her first night had been neither quiet nor peaceful. But she certainly wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘It makes a nice change,’ she said blandly. ‘And it’s such a pretty house. You’re in the village, aren’t you? I think I was originally meant to have the cottage next to yours.’

  ‘That’s right! We would have been neighbours.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alice, and smiled awkwardly. She didn’t know what else to add. She was still slightly dazzled by his famous face. ‘… Actually I was looking for India. She didn’t happen to come this way, did she?’

  Dominic stopped acting. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Not really… Bit of a nasty scene in our first staff meeting.’

  ‘Oh, they’re foul to her! I wish I could help but they don’t listen to me! Ha! No, I’ve been “the enemy” for years…’ It didn’t sound like it bothered him much. ‘That’s what you’re here for Alice! You have to help the poor girl to assimilate. They’re very hostile.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  ‘She’s trying so hard. It’s so unfair.’

  ‘It does seem to be a bit,’ Alice agreed.

  ‘Trouble is, she flies off the handle. And you know how people are… brings out the sadist in them. When they know how easy it is to get a rise.’

  ‘They weren’t being at all kind,’ Alice said.

  ‘Bastards. I bet they weren’t…’ He thought a moment. ‘I adore India. I think she’s wonderful. She’s a burst of sunlight here at Tode Hall. The fact is…’ He dropped his voice. ‘… and I know we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead – and I adored Emma, too. But she didn’t help India at all. It was almost as if she deliberately set out to make life difficult for the poor girl. That’s what I thought. And I did mention it to her once, before she died… She didn’t like it… And by the way, I say that as someone who loved Emma. We all loved Emma. But she could be quite unkind. When she set her mind to it. She made things very difficult for India. Right from the start.’

  ‘Yes, I was beginning to get that impression.’

  ‘I’m gossiping and I shouldn’t be. No doubt you’ll discover all this for yourself in the sweetness of time. I’m just saying… wear a helmet and carry a stick! At all times! There’s a lot of bad feeling flying around this place.’ He laughed heartily. ‘Only joking!’

  Alice smiled: ‘What were you and Carfizzi whispering about just then? It looked intense.’

  A flicker of annoyance. He waved the question aside. It was nothing, he said. Nothing at all. ‘Mr Carfizzi can be awkward sometimes. He was being a bit awkward.’

  Alice said: ‘What about? You both looked quite angry.’

  ‘None of your business, I’m afraid!’ Dominic grinned, and looked at his watch. He said they should definitely get together for a drink when she was more settled in. He would take her to the pub and introduce her to the village. And before she had time to thank him he was hurrying away in long, neurotic strides, in the direction of Mr Carfizzi.

  CHAPTER 29

  Geraldine, Lady Tode (1907–1971) was thumping impatiently from the inside of her sugar dispenser when Alice returned to the Gardener’s House that night. The noise was mostly muffled by the laundry pile on top of her. It was the greenish vapour, seeping from between the clean towels, that caught Alice’s attention.

  Alice pulled out the little pot and placed it, seeping and warmish, onto the kitchen table. A moment passed. The sugar pot wobbled and jumped.

  ‘Hello, hello?’ said Alice. ‘Anyone there?’

  It wobbled again. It lost its balance and fell onto its side, landing in a blob of jam, left from Alice’s breakfast.

  That she might, without her unruly triplets, at last be able to live in a clean and tidy house, had been one of the job’s attractions; and yet here she was at the end of Day One, and she’d not even managed to clear her own breakfast. Alice took a cloth and wiped the table. She wiped a smear of jam off the jumping sugar pot and at once the pot became scorching. She dropped it back on the table and watched, mesmerised, as it trembled and shook. A flurry of stinking green vapour, followed by another, forceful enough to pop open the lid. And then, slowly, from the depths, rubbery and elongated, scowling with discomfort, and accompanied by a loud farting sound, emerged Geraldine, Lady Tode.

  It took a moment or two. And then there was her gho
st, back at the table, her slim wrists, her straight back, her magnificent chignon, her sapphire jewellery catching the light. She was wearing a different outfit today – this one, a psychedelic, flared silk Balmain trouser suit, inestimably daring and chic. Before her, the cup and saucer, steaming with ice cold tea. A hint of the green vapour lingered around her, but in other respects her dignity was restored.

  ‘Good God, I thought you’d never work it out, Alice. Have you never read Arabian Nights?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Geraldine Tode took a dainty sip of her ice cold tea, or pretended to. She didn’t swallow. ‘Of course nobody teaches anyone anything these days. It’s a wonder young people even learn how to read. Have you never heard of Aladdin?’

  ‘Of course I’ve heard of Aladdin.’

  ‘Well then.’

  Alice still looked confused but Geraldine Tode wouldn’t say more. With her handsome chin, she indicated the sugar dispenser.

  ‘Ah!’ said Alice. ‘I have to rub… if I want to summon you…?’

  ‘Don’t be impertinent. Nobody said anything about “summon”.’

  Alice chuckled. ‘Well I’m glad you’re back,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot of questions.’

  ‘Never mind your questions,’ replied Geraldine Tode. ‘How was your first day of work? Are they treating you properly? India is quite mad. You will have realised that by now. She’s a Daventy and all the Daventys are mad. And then she’s got the Smetterson-Sythes on her father’s side. Rather, her paternal grandmama was a Smetterson-Sythe, and – aheh – we know about them… The women [she clarified] are nymphomaniacs… And the men are all queer. As indeed are Daventy males. And of course Lord Daventy – I’m referring to Eric not poor, dear Derek – Eric was a well-known sadist. So what can one expect? My idiotic grandson might have checked this sort of thing before he married her. But people don’t do that anymore. They think they know better. We shall see. Is she treating you well?’

  Alice said she was.

  ‘Good. Now then…’ Geraldine paused. ‘Are you going to take off your coat, Alice? We have things to discuss and I need you to concentrate. Get yourself a drink, or whatever you want. Settle down. I shall wait for you here. And when you’re ready, we can begin.’ Alice didn’t move. Actually she was wondering whether she could roll herself a joint. It didn’t feel quite right. On the other hand, it was her house, her off-time. And Geraldine was only a ghost.

  ‘Buck up,’ snapped Geraldine Tode. ‘Do hurry. I have some interesting news vis-à-vis our murder investigation.’

  Alice didn’t take issue with Geraldine’s annoying reference to the non-existent ‘murder investigation’. She had a lot of questions of her own, and she didn’t want to send Geraldine scurrying back into her sugar pot without first answering at least some of them.

  At some point, obviously, she would need to clarify to Geraldine that she had no interest in investigating ‘murders’. She had come to Tode Hall because… well, because it was the only job she’d ever been offered, and she had nothing much else to do. Those were the main reasons. Also because her grandmother had been set on it. Also because – it didn’t really matter. The point was, she had not come to Tode Hall to be a murder detective.

  Geraldine Tode waited, watching with haughty impatience as Alice rolled and lit her joint. She said: ‘Have you ever smoked opium, dear? One used to do that a little, as a young thing. It was tremendous fun.’

  ‘I never have,’ said Alice. ‘I would love to though. I’ve heard it’s wonderful stuff.’

  But Lady Tode wasn’t actually that interested. She said: ‘Well I’ll tell you what happened to me this afternoon. Guess who walked through that front door. And by the way he has a key. You must change the locks.’

  ‘Not Ecgbert, again? cried Alice, indignantly. ‘What do you think he wanted?’

  ‘Not Mad Ecgbert, no,’ Geraldine Tode replied impatiently. ‘Of course not. And under what circumstances, I ask you, would his mother ever have given him a key? She couldn’t abide him, Alice. Do you not understand? He was her nemesis. Emma was a classic narcissist. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘There was nothing she loathed more than people who spoke the truth to her. And poor Mad Ecgbert has always been incapable of speaking anything else. He terrified her. She packed him off to that funny house at the bottom of the drive – not for drugs or drink or any sort of criminal activity – not for anything, really, but simply for speaking his mind… Well, maybe that is a form of madness…’ she added. ‘… And then she persuaded her ghastly husband – and I speak as his mother – to have the poor boy disinherited. As I said to you the other evening, dear, if anyone ought to have killed that dreadful woman, it was poor mad darling Ecgbert. Whether or not he actually did, well, we simply don’t know…’

  ‘I do,’ Alice snapped, yet again: ‘It wasn’t Ecgbert—’ She seemed to be saying this a lot, lately. And the more she said it, the sillier it sounded. After all, how would she know? She’d not seen or spoken to him for nearly forty years.

  ‘You mustn’t be sentimental, Alice. Ecgbert might have killed her. He certainly had motive… and opportunity. And he is quite mad.’

  ‘But you just said he wasn’t.’

  ‘Well of course he isn’t. Not really,’ Geraldine continued. ‘And by the way I tend to agree with you. I adore that boy. His mother treated him terribly, and if he did kill her, I would be the last person in the world to blame him.’

  ‘… You were telling me who it was who broke into the house,’ Alice said.

  ‘I’m aware of that.’

  ‘Well, come on then, who was it?’

  Geraldine Tode leaned toward her. She smelled of baked beans and milk, Alice noticed. Weird. ‘Firstly,’ she said, ‘as I explained previously, our guest this afternoon did not break in. As I said barely a second ago, the gentleman in question has a set of keys. Which makes perfect sense, of course. However, if you don’t want him climbing into your bed in the middle of the night, I strongly advise you, once again, to get your locks changed. He and my daughter-in-law have been using the place as a knocking shop for years.’

  ‘WHO? I still don’t know who you’re talking about,’ Alice said.

  ‘Dominic Rathbone of course.’

  ‘Dominic Rathbone and Emma Tode? That’s – but he must be at least ten years younger than she is. Was.’

  Geraldine Tode said stonily: ‘And?’

  ‘Well – that’s amazing. I’m amazed.’

  ‘Don’t be idiotic.’

  ‘She seems to have had sex with every man she met since the day she was married!’

  Geraldine raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe so.’

  ‘Crikey,’ said Alice.

  ‘But Dominic Rathbone was rather more than a fling, I dare say. It went on for years. Why else do you think she lent him a house on the estate? I don’t recall what was the “job” she drummed up for him…’

  ‘Archives,’ Alice said. ‘He’s in charge of archives.’

  ‘Archives indeed!’ Geraldine laughed. ‘Darling girl, he’s nothing more than a gigolo! Anyway the point is – Dominic let himself into the house this afternoon while you were gone. He rummaged around downstairs looking for something – I don’t know what. But he was muttering a lot of filthy language to himself, getting quite tetchy. He went upstairs and came down with… Do you remember there was a tin cigar box in the cupboard where you found me? Do you remember it?’

  ‘I do. It was locked.’

  ‘Well he took that.’

  ‘Do you know why? Do you know what was inside it?’

  Geraldine Tode looked uncomfortable. ‘Never you mind… But it’s probably a good thing he’s taken it. We wouldn’t want the staff getting hold of it.’

  ‘I’m staff,’ Alice reminded her.

  Geraldine ignored her. ‘Imagine if those half-witted sisters happened upon it! Or Carfizzi! Dear God, just imagining it makes the blood run cold. You realise he
’s Mafia, don’t you?’

  Alice laughed. ‘He’s been living in Yorkshire the last forty years.’

  ‘And you think the Mafia’s tentacles, in this day and age, don’t reach as far as Yorkshire?’

  Alice had no idea. ‘I’m just saying, it seems unlikely.’

  Lady Tode raised another fine eyebrow, and left it at that.

  ‘I bumped into them earlier,’ Alice said. ‘Dominic and Mr Carfizzi. Having quite a row.’

  ‘Did you indeed?’ said Geraldine. ‘Well that is interesting. What about, I wonder? I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if Emma, Dominic and Carfizzi had been engaged in a ménage à trois. Don’t you think? In fact, the more I think about it, the more likely it seems.’

  Alice said: ‘But you said Mr Carfizzi preferred men?’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ said Geraldine Tode. She inhaled: an appalling idea having struck her. ‘You don’t suppose Dominic was giving the cigar box to Carfizzi, do you? No. Of course not. Why would he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Carfizzi would hock it, without a doubt. Though I’m not sure how much he’d get in today’s market. Nobody much cares about aristocrats these days. And thankfully Dominic’s acting career is dead…’ She chortled. ‘Nobody would have the faintest idea whom he even was.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Alice, ‘he’s doing a coffee ad at the moment on TV. My grandmother was very excited when she spotted him at the Tintin teddy—’

  ‘Yes well. With the greatest respect. I don’t think we can really use your dear, late grandmother as a particularly useful barometer, either for the state of Dominic Rathbone’s career – nor for the price Carfizzi could fetch for a pile of pornographic photographs of him with my late daughter-in-law in flagrante. So…’ Geraldine took another pretend sip from her cold tea, shuddered at its absence of taste, and looked at Alice. ‘That’s my news. What’s yours?’