Death is a Word

by Hazel Holt

  ‘At that time of day? Anyway, if, as you said, the vehicle was probably a four-by-four, possibly a Land Rover – that sounds like a local to me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘I’ve thought about all that, and if it wasn’t an accident but a deliberate attempt to run someone down, well, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of motive. At least his partner hasn’t been able to come up with anything.’

  ‘I do see all that,’ I said, ‘but there might be something none of us – not even Patrick – knows about.’

  He smiled. ‘I see you want to make a mystery of it.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but this time it’s sort of personal, my best friend’s cousin. So you do see why I had to listen to Patrick and why I wonder too.’

  ‘I can only assure you, Mrs Malory,’ he said, ‘that I’m keeping an open mind on the subject and if you can find anything at all that might help I’d be glad to hear it.’

  I rang Patrick and told him what Bob Morris had said. ‘At least,’ I said, ‘he’s thinking about it. If only there was any sort of reason for wanting Daniel out of the way.’ A sudden thought struck me. ‘Has that farmer been onto you about taking water across the field at the cottage?’

  ‘Yes, he has, as a matter of fact. Quite soon after the funeral. Too soon – I gave him a pretty sharp answer. Why, do you think—’

  ‘There’s quite a lot of money involved. He wants to set up some sort of super camping site with yurts, or whatever they’re called, and so forth and he needs to get the water to his fields for that. And I’m sure he would have a Land Rover.’

  ‘But surely that wouldn’t be sufficient reason for actually killing someone.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ I said reluctantly. ‘Well, keep on thinking – I’m sure you’re right about it being deliberate and I do believe Bob Morris thinks so too.’

  ‘I think of nothing else,’ Patrick said wearily, ‘but there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do.’

  I’d finally nerved myself to clean out my kitchen cupboards when Rosemary arrived.

  ‘Oh dear.’ she said, looking at all the tins on the kitchen table, ‘sorry if I’ve arrived at a bad time.’

  ‘No, it’s a perfect time,’ I said, cheerfully putting them back into the cupboard again. ‘I’ve been trying to decide how many of these things that are out of date I can still use. Too depressing!’

  ‘Oh, I know – I’m sure things in tins are OK if they look all right. Anyway, remember Captain Scott’s jam – it was years and years old when they dug it out of the snow and that was fine.’

  ‘Well,’ I said as I shut the cupboard door firmly, ‘it’s lovely to see you. I’ll put the kettle on. Is it anything special or just a chat?’

  ‘Both really – it seems ages since we got together, but, what with Mother … she’s home now and expecting the same level of service she had in hospital. Poor Elsie’s been having to cook all sorts of complicated things that Mother says she’s been so looking forward to and I’ve been run off my feet looking for little delicacies she might fancy. If it wasn’t for Patrick I do think I’d have gone mad!’

  ‘He still comes round?’

  ‘Oh yes, nearly every day. He’s so good with her and encourages her to do all the exercises the physio says she must do and she won’t do for me.’

  ‘Well done Patrick. He’s a strange person. I still don’t feel I really know him.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘No – I feel the same. He’s perfectly normal, agreeable, chatty – just a polite young man, but you always feel he’s holding something back. I mean, sometimes I feel he’s too good to be true, especially with Mother. But then, I’m not used to anyone getting on so well with her, especially someone of such a different generation.’

  ‘Just what I feel. I did, I think, catch a glimpse of what might be the real Patrick once when he let his guard down, but, in general, he does seem to feel the need to put up this front.’

  ‘How was he with Daniel? I never really saw them together.’

  ‘Whenever I saw them he’d put on that “front”, as you call it. I don’t know how they were in private. I do know Eva said that Dan relied on him a lot – all the practical things, business, daily living and so forth, but she never said anything about their personal relations. I suppose she felt that might seem like prying. Certainly Dan’s death really seems to have got to him. I suppose he’s told you that he doesn’t think it was an accident – quite obsessive about it, but, really what sort of motive would anyone have for killing someone like Dan?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Anyway, I’m glad to say he seems to be settled at the cottage; Mother would be devastated if he went away. Which reminds me. He was quite worried about what to do with Alan’s papers. He asked me if I wanted to have them, but really I wouldn’t know what to do with them.’

  ‘Eva said that Alan’s publisher wanted to publish some of them or to get someone to do a sort of biography appreciation. Perhaps Patrick could just send them to him.’

  ‘That would be best.’ She thought for a moment. ‘There’s just one thing. There might be some personal stuff there that Eva might not have wanted published. Sheila, would you mind going through them, just to have a look? I know how busy you are with reviews and things but I don’t think I could do it and it would set my mind at rest.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I’d be glad to. I’d like to feel I was doing something for Eva.’

  ‘Bless you. There’s no rush. I’ll tell Patrick and he can bring them over to you sometime.’

  ‘That’s fine. The kettle’s boiled – tea or coffee?’

  Patrick brought round the papers a few days later in cardboard boxes which he nobly carried up to the spare room.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s rather a lot,’ he said. ‘I hope it’s not too much for you.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, I knew how much there was. Rosemary and I helped Eva carry them in from the garage after there was that fire.’

  ‘A fire?’

  ‘Yes. Fortunately it didn’t do too much damage, they caught it in time. Some sort of fault in the wiring. These must have been taking up quite a bit of room in the cottage. Eva had been going to sort them out but she never got round to it. Anyway, I’ll go through them and separate the letters from the articles and scripts and take out anything personal that she wouldn’t have wanted printed. Then the publisher can appoint someone to prepare the articles for press and perhaps do a critical bibliography.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do that?’

  ‘Goodness, no. It’s not my field. Geoffrey Bailey, he’s the publisher, probably has someone in mind.’

  Foss, who had been prowling round the boxes in a supervisory capacity, selected one, jumped up onto it and composed himself for sleep.

  ‘Come and have a coffee,’ I said, ‘and possibly some cake. You must need some sustenance after all that heavy lifting.’

  I led us both into the kitchen hoping that an informal atmosphere might make him more relaxed. He made a fuss of Tris, who greeted him enthusiastically and then settled down near his feet.

  I got out some tins. ‘Sponge cake or chocolate?’

  ‘Oh, chocolate, please. Comfort food.’ He smiled. ‘We used to have a lot of comfort food – sort of nice everyday things as a treat after all the peculiar things Dan had to eat in his job.’

  ‘Yes, I remember he asked Rosemary for the local sausages and mash when she had you both to dinner and was worried about cooking for him.’ I cut large slices for both of us. ‘What do you cook for yourself?’

  ‘Not very much …’ He turned his head away and I busied myself switching on the kettle and fussing with the cups.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s strange,’ he said quietly, ‘Alan, then Eva and then Daniel … all dead?’

  ‘It is tragic,’ I said, ‘like some Greek play, but Alan and Eva died of natural causes.’

  ‘But did they?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t
know,’ he said. ‘I suppose I’m just looking for some explanation other than a particularly cruel fate. But, think of it,’ he went on eagerly. ‘Alan managed to survive all those dangerous experiences and there could be something odd about Eva’s death – there was no one there when she died. And then, Dan …’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ I said, ‘and I do agree with you about Daniel’s death, there’s something really wrong there, but not the other two; it’s just not possible.’

  ‘No, you’re probably right – I’m just clutching at straws. It’s so hard to accept.’

  ‘I know, and this business about Daniel – there are a lot of questions there – makes it even harder. I’m glad you’re staying on here.’

  ‘I’m not going until I find out who killed Dan,’ he said.

  ‘So you see,’ I said to Rosemary the next day, ‘it looks as though he’s here for quite a while. Your mother will be pleased, but, poor boy, I really don’t see how anyone can ever say how that terrible thing happened.’

  I was surprised to get a phone call from Bob Morris.

  ‘I thought I’d let you know,’ he said. ‘I’ve just heard from Mrs Porter, she’s the elderly lady who lives in the cottage further down the lane. I did hope to interview her at the time but she’s been away. Only just got back and was very shocked to hear about the accident – she’d really taken to “the two boys”, as she called them, had them to tea and so forth. Anyway, that morning she hadn’t been able to sleep and had got up to make herself a cup of tea round about the time it happened. Her kitchen faces the road and when she heard a vehicle coming she was curious to know who was about so early.’

  ‘And she saw the car?’ I asked eagerly.

  ‘She saw a Land Rover, and since it’s not likely there would have been two going down that lane at that time, I think we can assume it was the one. It was quite light by then and it was going slowly so she had a good view. She said it was a Land Rover with a metal top – which sounds like a Land Rover Defender, which narrows it down a bit. It struck her as odd, someone out at that time of day, and it wasn’t one she recognised – not belonging to anyone round there.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she got the number?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, but then, people don’t, more’s the pity. And unfortunately she couldn’t see the driver. Still, it’s a step forward.’

  ‘If it was going slowly,’ I said, ‘that might have been because the driver was looking out for Daniel – might have known he’d be out there running at that time. He did it nearly every day.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it must have been someone who knew him, knew about his movements.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘You’ve told Patrick?’

  ‘Of course. I wanted to know if he’d seen anyone about in the days before it happened.’

  ‘Someone who might have been checking Daniel’s movements? And had he?’

  ‘He said he was usually in the kitchen, theirs is at the back of the house, getting breakfast for when Daniel got back. But, of course, the person might have been waiting somewhere further down the lane – off the road, even. There’s the turning that leads to the farm, quite a high hedge, and you could park in there and not be seen by anyone driving casually by.’

  ‘Oh dear – it’s so frustrating. Still, you can check on all the Defenders, I suppose.’

  ‘I can if it’s someone from inside the area, but it may not have been.’

  ‘But you’re sure now that it wasn’t an accident – was deliberate?’

  ‘It certainly needs thinking about.’

  I was thinking about it as I took down the kitchen curtains to be washed. It really did look as if Daniel’s death was deliberate – Bob Morris seemed much more certain now that he’d heard from Mrs Porter. I knew her slightly and she was someone who took an interest in things and people around her, a keen observer (or just plain curious), so I was sure she would have got her facts right, and certainly Bob hadn’t hesitated to accept her evidence. It was wonderful that she had been there at that particular time but so frustrating that she hadn’t been able to see the driver. If it was someone local I was sure she could have identified him. Still, it was a step forward, especially if it convinced Bob that there really was a case to answer. I was glad there was something for Patrick to feel good about.

  I balanced carefully on the small stepladder (I’m not very good on ladders) and began to unhook the curtains. It was such a pity, too, that Patrick’s kitchen didn’t face the road or he might have seen the car as well. It did seem possible that the driver might have stopped in that gateway, waiting for Daniel to come by. As I took the hooks out of the curtains I thought that perhaps I might take Tris for a walk along that part of the lane. I’d have to be sure that Patrick was with Mrs Dudley – I wouldn’t want him to think I was being insensitive, looking at the site of the tragedy. As I folded the curtains I suddenly decided that I really didn’t like them. They had a sort of square Greek key pattern round the bottom, quite unsuitable, it now seemed to me, for a kitchen. I stuffed them in the machine to wash them before I took them to the charity shop. Then I went up to the airing cupboard to see what I could find to replace them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Since Rosemary happened to mention that Patrick was going to tea with Mrs Dudley the next day, I decided to go and have a look at the lane. I parked just before the turning to the farm, hoping that no other car would want to get by. I remembered Bob had said that, because of the dry weather, there hadn’t been any useful tyre marks where Daniel was killed so I wasn’t very hopeful of finding anything. But, by a piece of luck, the opening of the turning was in a hollow which had held the rain that had fallen before and, although the ground was dry and baked hard, there were definite marks where it had been damp and where a vehicle had stood. I bent down to examine them and was disappointed. They were like small squares (reminding me of the pattern on my curtains) and didn’t look like tyre marks to me. Still, I thought I should tell Bob about them and see what he thought. I suddenly panicked that there might be heavy rain or they might be obliterated in some way before he could come and look at them, then I remembered that my mobile phone also worked as a camera.

  I took it out of my bag and regarded it doubtfully. I’d never tried to use it as a camera, in spite of Michael having explained how it worked. I can only cope with very basic technology.

  I switched it on and pressed things until it said menu and finally found something that looked promising. I crouched down and pressed things again, hoping that I was doing the right thing.

  Back in the car I thought of using the mobile phone to tell Bob about the marks, but I was afraid of messing up the photos (if I had taken them) so I had to wait until I got home.

  Fortunately I was able to get through to him quite quickly and told him what I’d found.

  ‘They don’t look like tyre marks,’ I said, ‘but I thought I’d better let you know about them.’ I described what they looked like and he asked me to repeat it. He sounded quite excited.

  ‘Were they any use?’ I asked. ‘I think I may have been able to photograph them on my mobile, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘I’d really like to look at the photos. I have an idea of what the marks may be … Would it be convenient for me to come round on my way home?’

  When he came I watched anxiously while he pressed things.

  ‘Did I manage to take anything?’ I asked.

  He smiled. ‘Well, they’re not exactly professional standard, but I can see quite clearly what they are. They’re the marks of off-road tyres.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘Not all Defenders have them, so it does narrow things down a bit more.’

  ‘And you’ll go and have a look yourself?’

  ‘Most certainly. And I’ve widened the search. It doesn’t seem that anyone who had anything to do with Daniel has a Defender, so it may well have been hired. Of course, whoever it is may have gone further afield, but at least I
can start by checking places that hire Land Rovers in the area.’

  ‘And you’ll tell Patrick?’

  ‘Of course.’

  After that, I thought I might have heard from Patrick, but Rosemary told me he’d had to go up to London – something about selling the flat.

  ‘So it does look as if he’s going to be staying down here,’ she said. ‘Mother’s delighted.’

  ‘But what will he do down here?’ I asked.

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m just glad that, whatever it is he’s going to do, he’ll be doing it in Taviscombe. Anyway, what I really wanted to ask you is if you’d come shopping with me in Taunton. I’ve got to find a birthday present for Delia and I need all the help I can get to find something – anything – she might like.’

  It was, as I expected, a fruitless expedition and Rosemary ended up (as I always knew she would do) buying Delia a generous Marks & Spencer token.

  ‘More birthdayish’ Rosemary said, ‘than actual money, and she’ll have the pleasure of spending it herself. I don’t know about you but I feel it’s time for lunch and a nice sit-down.’

  ‘Good idea. We’re near the precinct so let’s go to the tea room there; they do light lunches.’

  ‘This is nice and peaceful,’ Rosemary said, ‘after that crowded food hall. Still we did buy something so it wasn’t quite a wasted journey and I was able to get those special cheese biscuits for Mother – no one has them in Taviscombe.’

  We sat for a while over our lunch, just enjoying being somewhere away from home, and the cafe began to fill up with lunchtime office workers.

  ‘Look,’ Rosemary said, ‘isn’t that Maurice Shelby? I think he’s seen us but he’s not going to join us.’

  I laughed. ‘He did join me that time over a toasted teacake and was quite human, but I imagine the thought of having his lunch with two females was just too much for him.’

  ‘Just as well,’ she said. ‘He always looks so dismal. Actually, it sounds as if he has things to be dismal about. Jack says he might be struggling – not many new clients.’