Less Than a Treason

by Mary Birk

“I know. I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the cheek, feeling awkward. “Do you want me to find Pippa for you?”

  “Pippa?”

  “Or Rick? He could give you something.”

  “No, but thank you. You want to talk to Jeremy alone, don’t you?”

  “Would you mind?”

  She shook her head. “No, darling, that’s fine. I’ll just go and check on Rafe.” Turning to the solicitor, she said, “I’ll speak with you later, Jeremy.”

  “I’m at your disposal, Lady Wynstrathe.”

  After she left, Reid focused his attention on Stone. He was certain the lawyer knew more than he’d been sharing. “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “I’m happy to be of assistance in any way I can.”

  “As I understand it, you were supposed to meet with Flora today?”

  He nodded. “Yes, after luncheon. We were going to meet Monday, but then, as you know, I received the call from Lady Anne yesterday and came early this morning. I had the housemaid take a note up to Lady Flora to let her know I was here and could meet with her after luncheon. I knew not to try to set anything up for the morning. She was never an early riser.”

  “When did you last actually speak to her?”

  “The christening. At the dance, briefly.”

  “How did she seem?”

  “Good. Happy.”

  “Not depressed?” Even as Reid asked this question, the picture of a radiant Lady Flora dancing at the christening party came to him. Even in the foul mood he’d been in that night, he’d noticed that. She’d looked vibrant and beautiful, by no means depressed.

  “Absolutely not. She was in exceptionally good spirits.”

  “Anything in particular she wanted to meet with you about?”

  “There were a number of different matters we’d been working on. Estate planning, chiefly.”

  “She was contemplating death?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. She was diligent about updating her estate planning periodically, just as you and your family do.”

  “If your evidence is she wasn’t suicidal, that will go a long way pointing toward this having been an accident.”

  “I’m certain she wasn’t suicidal.”

  “Her disagreements with George over the Lodge weren’t anything serious?”

  “No, that had all been worked out.”

  Reid was puzzled. “I thought they were still negotiating the terms. I got the definite impression the other night Rafe thought the negotiations were still a bone of contention between George and Flora.” He went back to what he remembered of the altercation on Wednesday. He’d certainly not been at his most focused at that point with his mind in turmoil about Anne. Had he been so distracted that he’d misunderstood?

  Stone poured himself a cup of tea from the tray in front of him. “No, all of the documents had been signed. She may not have had a chance to share that with her family yet. Or perhaps she didn’t choose to do so. I don’t know. I haven’t said anything to them about it, of course. It’s not my place.” He took a drink of his tea. “She kept her business affairs to herself for the most part. Her father had been an astute planner in these kinds of matters, and Lady Flora actually had a good head for it her-self.”

  Although Reid had known Lady Flora all his life, he was surprised. She hadn’t given the impression of someone who even thought about such things, let alone was good at it. He realized how little he knew about the woman who had been his mother’s best friend. As well as about his own mother. “Can you think of anything else that would have made her suicidal? The local police are going to want to know.”

  “No, nothing.”

  “What about her financial situation?”

  Stone seemed reluctant to answer.

  “Was something amiss there?”

  “She’d recently lost a substantial sum of money on an investment Rodney had put her in. Nonetheless, she was still a rich woman.”

  “The news had upset her?”

  “It was a blow, but she recognized it for what it was. The investment had been a high-risk one, one she wouldn’t have made except to help Rodney out at his firm, and we took that loss into consideration with regard to her estate planning.”

  “Anything else you can think of that could have possibly had made her unhappy?”

  “Unhappy enough to kill herself? Absolutely not.”

  Chapter 44

  REID OPENED his scene of crime kit and donned the protective shoe-coverings and gloves tucked inside. Then he closed the kit and took it with him into the bedroom where the woman had died. The inevitable stink associated with death still filled the air. Good luck to the housekeeping staff who’d be charged later with putting things to rights. Flora may have been secretly despondent, but he didn’t think she would have intentionally inflicted this kind of a situation upon his mother.

  Flora’s body lay where they’d left it, largely covered by her dressing gown. Try though he might, Reid couldn’t find the injection site. Just as well, that examination was better left to the medical examiner. He carefully went through the insulin kit, using two fingers. A packet of extra needles, several syringes, a rubber tourniquet, a blood testing kit, and four glass vials, all empty. He frowned. Would she have used all four of the vials at one time? Or could they have been left over from another time? If so, why would anyone keep the empty vials and not just put them in the rubbish? And why had she used injections along with her pump system? Perhaps the pump hadn’t been working properly. Then he spotted something white at the bottom of the kit. Pushing the other paraphernalia to the side, he saw a worn name label, such as was used to identify gear sent with students to boarding schools. The name on the label was faint but legible. Lance Kensington. What had she been doing with her son’s insulin kit?

  Reid went around the room, slowly opening drawers and cupboards, to get an idea of the woman, and of what could have motivated her if she had indeed intentionally ended her own life.

  On a shelf in the large wardrobe sat a medium-sized black leather purse. First laying down a plastic sheet from his kit, he took the purse out and placed it on the bed. Carefully, he began going through its contents. Lipstick, a gold compact, a clutch wallet, and a small address book with a calendar for the current year. He pulled the latter out and flipped through it, wondering if she had a calendar for the new year yet somewhere. He hadn’t seen one so far. He put the calendar back, took out a mobile phone, laid it on the plastic sheet, then reached back into the purse and extracted a blood sugar testing device. More modern looking than the one in the kit. After replacing all the items in the purse, he put it back on the shelf in the wardrobe.

  In the bathroom was an array of personal toiletry products, all expensive looking. Lady Flora clearly didn’t shop at the local chemist’s. He briefly examined the bottles and jars. Hair products, a ladies’ razor and shaving cream, personal hygiene products, some prescription hormone replacement pills. A nail care kit with polishes and files. No make-up, as that was displayed on the vanity table. He didn’t see anything that looked to him to be unusual or indicate she was on any medication for depression. On the table by the bed was a novel. In the drawer, he found a notebook in which Lady Flora had made some lists and notes. He flipped through the pages. Christmas gift lists, a list of plants she wanted to purchase, wardrobe selections for the various events of the house party, but nothing that could even be remotely taken for a suicide note.

  Reid’s mind went back to the four empty vials of insulin and the kit that hadn’t been hers. Her death hadn’t been accidental, that much was clear. If it hadn’t been an accident and it hadn’t been suicide, there was only one other explanation.

  She’d been murdered.

  *****

  Lance’s face was sullen and unapologetic. “She must have taken it from my suitcase.” The young man’s eyes were red, but Reid didn’t think their condition was entirely due to grief. Sitting across the library desk from the young man, he tried to get Lance to look at
him directly, but was having trouble getting eye contact.

  “Why would she take your kit?”

  “Maybe her pump wasn’t working.”

  “Did she ask you if she could borrow it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Why did you bring it in the first place? Your father told me you have a pump yourself.”

  Lance shrugged. “It must have been left in my suitcase from back when I still used it.”

  “You think she went into your room and your suitcase on the off chance you were still carrying your old kit and took it without asking?”

  “I don’t know.” The young man’s voice dropped, and his words came out in a mumble.

  “I need you to tell me the truth.”

  “Can’t you just leave me alone? My mother is dead, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Lance. Truly sorry.”

  Lance nodded.

  “How did you get on with your mother?”

  “Good.” His voice was edgy, almost jittery, and his fingers played with the leather sofa cushion nervously. Reid kept silent. until Lance finally spoke again. “It was just an accident, I’m sure. Her headaches sometimes made her lose track of what things she’d taken or not. The pain would get to her that way.”

  “So she’d had this kind of trouble mixing up her medications before?”

  “I didn’t say that. Maybe. I don’t know. Ask my dad.”

  “Did you see your mother this morning?”

  Lance shook his head, kept his eyes down.

  “What exactly did you do this morning?”

  Lance closed his eyes. “I had breakfast, and then went back up and took a shower. After that, Darryl and I went down to the media room to play video games. Then we went up to luncheon.”

  “So you were with Darryl all morning?”

  “Most of the time. I went outside for a little while by myself. To get out of the house, you know. Get some fresh air.”

  “Not with Darryl?”

  “He’s not much into fresh air.”

  Reid remembered when his mother’s friend had brought this boy as a baby to Dunbaryn. Reid had been away at school generally, so it must have been a time when he’d been home for some school break. He’d been a nice kid, not very athletic, but curious and friendly. Total personality change.

  “No?”

  “He likes the city. This is a bit boring for him, I think.”

  “Boring? Really?” Reid let just the edge of sarcasm tinge the word.

  Lance pushed the shaggy blond hair out of his face and glared, presenting Reid with a full-on view of his eyes. “I don’t mean what happened to Mum. Just country life. He’s used to having more people our age around. You know, being able to go to clubs and things.”

  Reid nodded. Lance’s pupils were definitely dilated, and he was having a hard time sitting still for these questions. Deciding to stretch out the interview as long as possible to see how the boy’s obviously drugged state affected his answers, Reid leaned back. “What were you doing outside?”

  “I went over to the Falcon House. You know, to see the birds.”

  “You liked them when you were younger, I remember.”

  Lance nodded. “You always let us go out with you when you took the falcons out. That was so cool.” His face lit up momentarily, and the nervousness seemed to recede for a moment. “That eagle is wicked.”

  So there was still a trace of the boy Lance had been. “How long were you outside?”

  “About an hour.”

  “What time?”

  “Right after breakfast. I probably came back in about ten-thirty. Why?”

  Reid shrugged. “Just wondering. How did the eagle look to you? I thought he looked stressed.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought he looked good. But he’s the first one I’ve seen close up.”

  “Where’s Darryl from?”

  “Down south somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “Around Dumfries, I think. He doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

  “He’s about finished with school?”

  “About. He’s putting himself through school. That’s why it’s taking him a little longer.”

  “And you?”

  “This is my first year. I have a long way to go, if I actually stick it out. I’m not sure law’s for me. My marks weren’t great first term.”

  “I heard your father had offered Darryl a place in chambers, and one for you, as well?” Miranda had told Reid about the offer at the christening celebration. She’d said Rodney had heard the offer being made at dinner the night before. Apparently, the two of them had been skeptical of Rafe’s ability to support more bodies in chambers.

  “He did.” There was a do-you-want-to-make-something-of-it challenge in Lance’s voice.

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, well. Like I said, I’m not sure if it’s for me, but Darryl wants it.”

  “Exactly what drugs have you and Darryl been doing while you’ve been here?”

  “What?”

  “What drugs are you and Darryl doing?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do.”

  “What we do is none of your business.”

  “Actually, it is my business. It’s not just my house, but it’s my job. I’m guessing your mother confronted you about the drugs.”

  “You’re full of shite.”

  “Am I?”

  “Leave me alone.” Knocking over the chair he sat in, Lance got up, and without a backward glance, stalked out of the room.

  Chapter 45

  “DAMN IT.”

  Blood was coming out of his finger in gushes. These leather-working tools were fucking sharp, Lance thought as he wrapped a tissue around his wound. At least the blood hadn’t gotten on the leather. He’d found enough leather scraps in the falconry workshop to make two collars, one for Darryl, and one for himself. He put riveted studs around them after he finished fashioning the collars themselves, but the scratch awl, a steel spike with its tip sharpened to a fine point, had slipped.

  A voice startled him, and he turned around. He knew that voice. “Miranda, what are you doing out here?”

  She came out of the shadows, followed by Rodney. Until last night, he’d always thought it was almost creepy how they were together so much. They’d never included him in their adventures and secrets. He might as well have been an only child. But things had changed now. They must think of him as more of an equal after last night. And Rodney, at least, had always been nice to him to him. It’d felt good talking to his brother last night. He wished Rodney had been around to talk with more as he was growing up alone in that big house. Rodney and Miranda had been lucky to have each other. He’d had no one.

  The light hit Miranda’s face. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell by Satan’s fingernails. Mother and, of course, what had happened with Terrence Reid today. When he’d first arrived at Dunbaryn, Lance hadn’t noticed Terrence and his wife weren’t getting along. Not until Darryl had pointed out to him what was going on, and how Miranda was going after Terrence. Then he’d seen it—Miranda flirting with Terrence all the time, and his wife acting like she didn’t notice. Lance couldn’t tell if Terrence’s wife cared what Miranda was doing or not. No one in this damned country, or at least in the circle of people he knew, ever said what was actually going on. You really had to pay attention. He hadn’t, but Darryl had picked up on it right away.

  But today everything had changed. Terrence and his wife were back together. Generally a remote, stern type of man, Terrence acted totally different around his wife now. He’d been smiling and waiting on her, like she was a princess or something.

  At first Lance had thought it served Miranda right, as mean as she’d always been. Then he’d felt a little guilty, because she’d been okay last night.

  “What are you doing?” Miranda eyed the leather pieces with curiosity.

  “Noth
ing much.” He tried to push the metal studs to the side. “Just messing around with these bits of leather.”

  Rodney leaned back against the wall, watching silently.

  Miranda picked up one of the collars, ran her finger along the edge, then put it down and did the same to the other. “Sex collars.” She smiled that cat smile, but this time it was mean. There was no trace of the nice Miranda from last night. “One for you and one for Darryl?”

  Lance looked to Rodney for help, but his brother’s face was unreadable. Why couldn’t he ever stick up for him with Miranda? All of this was really Rodney’s fault. If Rodney hadn’t made Mother lose all that money, everything wouldn’t have gotten out of control and urgent. Lance’s chest filled with a furious heat. He’d had it with Rodney and with Miranda. He didn’t need to be afraid of her anymore. Darryl said she liked men to be rough with her, well then, that’s what he’d be.

  “At least with us, it’s mutual. Not like you chasing Terrence Reid like a bitch in heat. He’d never want a skag like you. Not when he has a wife like Anne. And especially not if he knew the truth about you.” Lance bared his teeth in a smile he thought rivaled Miranda’s own mean smile. “Maybe I’ll tell him.”

  Miranda pulled her arm back and hit him. Hard and with her fist closed.

  He felt his jaw. God, had she broken it? “Jesus, Miranda. What the fuck?”

  Miranda collapsed to the floor, wailing.

  Rodney stepped forward and crouched down to her, cradled her into him, then pulled her upright. “It’s all right. Let’s get you back to the house.” To Lance, he said, “Sorry, bro. She’s just had too much today. I need to get her back to her room and calm her down.”

  Lance’s face throbbed. “Just get her the fuck out of here.”

  *****

  From around the corner where he’d entered the Falcon House, Jeremy Stone watched Rodney lead a distraught Miranda toward the door. Lance’s face was white save the angry red mark on his cheek and jaw. He held out his hand, bloody and wrapped inexpertly with a white handkerchief.

  Stone went to him at once.

  “My God, Lance, are you all right?”

  The boy nodded, his face grim. “Cut my hand.”