Death at Burwell Farm

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘I expect so.’

  They were both wrong. The four of them – the Masterses and their guests – had barely agreed to waive formality and use first names, and were sitting around a table in an enclosed courtyard, sipping aperitifs and basking in the evening sunshine, when Adrian produced a brochure with a coloured cover from the pocket of his linen jacket and dropped it with a casual gesture in front of Jim. ‘Ever come across that outfit?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh really, Adrian!’ his wife exclaimed in an exasperated tone. ‘Our guests are here for a social evening, not to have their ears bent over your hobby-horse.’

  ‘I’m not going to bend anyone’s ear, Cath,’ Adrian promised. ‘I just wondered if Jim knew anything about them.’

  Jim picked up the brochure and studied the cover for a few moments without speaking, while Sukey, seated beside him, leaned across to have a look. She saw a photograph of a substantial red-brick house in a garden setting, evidently taken in high summer for the trees were in full leaf and a rose bed in the foreground was a mass of variegated colour. Above the house, the legend ‘The RYCE Foundation’ was printed in dark green capitals against a cloudless blue sky and beneath it, in smaller letters, the words ‘At One with the Cosmos’.

  ‘I can’t say I do,’ said Jim cautiously. ‘Is it some kind of health farm?’

  Adrian gave a sharp, sardonic laugh. ‘Not exactly,’ he said. He was a big man with a hearty manner, heavily built but with sufficient height to carry it off without appearing overweight. In contrast, his wife was slender and elegant, with a heart-shaped face and finely moulded features, yet tall enough not to be totally overshadowed by him and with a slightly commanding air which suggested to Sukey that she might well be the stronger character.

  Jim put the brochure on the table without opening it and took a mouthful from his glass. ‘What’s your interest?’ he asked.

  ‘I have an elderly relative who spends a lot of time there,’ said Adrian.

  ‘And a lot of money,’ Cath put in. ‘That’s what really gets my husband’s goat – he thinks she’s spending our inheritance!’ She caught Sukey’s eye as she spoke, inviting womanly sympathy, and Sukey gave a little nod and smile of understanding.

  ‘It’s not that at all,’ Adrian protested good-humouredly. ‘I just don’t like to think of the old girl being ripped off, that’s all.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s being ripped off?’ asked Jim. ‘The fees seem extortionate to me for sitting around in a circle chanting gibberish.’

  ‘I know someone who goes to what she calls “chanting weekends”,’ Sukey remarked. ‘She’s a teacher and she claims it strengthens the chest and lungs.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Vera’s lungs,’ Cath remarked with a smile. ‘You should hear her shout at Bruno when he runs off!’ She reached down to pat the golden Labrador stretched out at her feet.

  ‘Just the same, I’m not happy about it,’ Adrian insisted.

  ‘From what you tell me, there doesn’t seem to be anything suspicious about the place,’ said Jim and added, with what Sukey considered admirable diplomacy, ‘but if you like, I’ll ask around among my colleagues to see if anything’s known about it.’

  ‘I’d be very much obliged,’ said Adrian.

  He appeared to be on the point of saying something else, but Cath silenced him with a slightly imperious gesture. ‘Vera says she has a lovely time when she goes there, and she’s happier than I’ve seen her for ages,’ she said firmly. ‘I say, if that’s how she wants to spend her money, that’s her affair.’ With a glance at her husband that made it clear that the topic was to be dropped immediately, she picked up the jug of iced fruit punch and said, ‘Would anyone like a refill? Dinner will be in about fifteen minutes.’

  The spacious dining room had mullioned windows looking out over sloping lawns bordered by flowerbeds. Gaps in the trees marking the boundary of the property gave glimpses of pasture where black-and-white cattle grazed peacefully in the evening sunlight. Indoors as well as out there was luxury on every side, from the array of silver, crystal and bone china on the gleaming mahogany table to the carefully matched and professionally designed furnishings, yet all was discreet and understated, as if chosen to give pleasure to the owners rather than to impress the visitor. The meal was served by a smiling, ruddy-complexioned woman with stiff iron-grey hair who was treated with courteous charm by her employers and addressed as Nanny. ‘She looked after Anita when she was a baby and then when she retired she came back to look after Adrian and me,’ Cath explained affectionately.

  When dinner was over, Cath said, ‘We’ll have coffee in the little sitting room, Nanny.’ As the four of them stood up, Adrian glanced at his watch and said, ‘I’ll join you in a minute – I’ll just go and give Vera a call, make sure the old dear’s all right.’

  ‘Of course she’s all right,’ said Cath with an indulgent smile as she poured coffee from the cafetière into gold-rimmed porcelain cups. ‘He’s like an old mother hen,’ she informed Sukey and Jim. ‘Anyone would think she was a frail old thing in her dotage, but really she’s as fit as a flea, still drives around in an ancient Rover, goes off on package holidays and generally enjoys life.’

  ‘How long has she been going to RYCE?’ asked Sukey.

  ‘Several weeks – I can’t remember exactly.’

  At that moment, Adrian entered the room looking anxious. ‘There’s no reply from her number,’ he said.

  Cath glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only a little after nine o’clock,’ she said. ‘She’s probably out visiting a friend.’

  ‘You know she never stays out this late. She gets up at some ungodly hour in the morning and she’s always in bed with her book and her hot milk by nine. I don’t like it, Cath… I don’t like it at all.’

  Five

  ‘Oh Adrian, do stop fussing and come and have your coffee!’ Cath appeared relaxed and her manner was coaxing, but Sukey detected a glint of steel in the look she gave her husband. ‘And what about a liqueur for our guests?’

  ‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Jim politely. ‘It’s only a short drive home, but—’

  ‘Wouldn’t do for a detective inspector to be caught over the odds, would it?’ Adrian guffawed, his anxiety momentarily forgotten. ‘How about you, Sukey?’

  ‘I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll pass. I drank rather a lot of that lovely wine at dinner.’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

  ‘It was super, and so was the meal.’

  With evident reluctance, Adrian sat down and accepted the cup of coffee his wife handed him. He tipped in cream and sugar, stirred it and took a mouthful before glancing at his watch and saying, ‘I’ll call her again at half past.’

  ‘Now just relax and enjoy the rest of the evening,’ said Cath firmly. ‘Vera’s perfectly all right – she’s probably visiting friends and has simply forgotten the time.’

  ‘Probably. Just the same…’

  ‘It’s natural to be concerned,’ said Sukey diplomatically, noting Cath’s barely concealed exasperation. ‘My father used to be like a cat on hot bricks if my mother was five minutes late home from an outing.’

  There was a brief pause when nobody spoke. Adrian Masters’s concern for his elderly relative had cast a noticeable restraint over the gathering, which Cath made a pointed attempt to relieve by saying, ‘I expect you’ve heard about Anita’s plans for her gap year?’

  ‘A bus trip round Europe in the spring, staying at youth hostels – yes, Fergus did mention it,’ said Sukey. ‘Has she booked, or is she still thinking about it?’

  ‘I think she’s more or less made up her mind, provided her friend agrees to go with her.’

  ‘I’m sure it would be a great experience for them both. And Anita’s so good at languages—’

  ‘I can’t say I’m very keen on the idea,’ Adrian broke in. ‘There have been one or two very nasty incidents lately involving young female students roaming around in foreign countries.’ He gulp
ed the remains of his coffee, declined a refill with an impatient gesture and stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try Vera’s number again.’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s a natural-born worrier,’ sighed Cath by way of an apology as the door closed behind him. ‘If Anita does go on this trip, he’ll die a thousand deaths until she’s safely home.’

  ‘That I really can identify with,’ said Sukey warmly. ‘Fergus has been muttering about doing the same thing – I know he’d give anything to go with the girls, but he’ll be too busy studying for his A levels.’

  Cath nodded. ‘Yes, of course, but I’d feel a lot happier if he was with them.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Children cause us so much anxiety, don’t they?’ The two mothers exchanged glances of mutual sympathy.

  As if to remind them that he was still there, Jim cleared his throat and remarked, ‘Fergus mentioned that Vera has no other relatives. I suppose in a way that’s why your husband feels so responsible for her.’

  ‘He does, and I could understand it if she was in her dotage, but she’s only in her mid-sixties and so far as we know she’s perfectly fit.’ Cath picked up the cafetière and said, ‘Would you like some more coffee?’

  Both guests declined, and Sukey glanced at Jim and said, ‘I think it’s time we were thinking of going home – we both have an early start in the morning.’

  At that moment Adrian re-entered the room. ‘Our guests are just leaving,’ Cath informed him, but he appeared not to notice.

  ‘There’s still no reply,’ he said with a frown. He was clearly agitated. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll pop round and check that she hasn’t had a fall or been taken ill.’

  ‘Does she live near here?’ asked Jim.

  ‘In Churchdown – it’s only a few minutes by car. I have a key to the house.’

  ‘What about Anita?’ Cath protested. ‘You said you’d fetch her at ten – you know I don’t like her walking home along the lanes at night, even with Fergus.’

  ‘Can’t you do it?’

  ‘I can’t drive now, I’ve had too much to drink.’

  The situation had all the ingredients of a confrontation and Jim said quickly, ‘I’ll bring Anita back if you like – I’ve got to take Sukey home so it’s no trouble.’

  ‘That’s awfully kind of you.’

  At that moment the telephone rang. Adrian hurried from the room; through the open door they heard him say, ‘Hullo… speaking… what? Oh, my God!’ followed by several minutes’ silence while the listeners exchanged fearful glances. At last he said, in a low voice, ‘Thank you, I’ll come at once.’ When he returned his face was ashen. ‘That was the police,’ he said shakily. ‘Vera’s car’s been found in a lay-by with a woman’s body in it. They took her to the hospital – the doctor there thinks she died of a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh Adrian, how ghastly!’ Cath was on her feet and beside her husband in a moment, one arm linked into his. He leaned against her and put a hand over his eyes. ‘I suppose there’s no doubt that it’s Vera?’ she said.

  He swallowed hard, plainly overcome with emotion. ‘Her handbag was on the seat beside her and they got our number from that card I made her carry,’ he said when he had his voice under control. ‘They’ve asked me to go and identify her.’

  ‘Anita’ll be really upset about Vera,’ Fergus remarked at breakfast the next morning. ‘She used to make fun of her, but she was really very fond of her – so were Cath and Adrian. I wish you’d told us last night when Jim came to pick her up – I could have stayed with her to comfort her.’

  ‘Jim and I agreed on the way home that it was better for her mother to break the news.’

  ‘What about her dad – wasn’t he there?’

  ‘He had to go to the hospital to identify the body – that’s why Jim took Anita home.’

  ‘So the story that he didn’t like to drive because he’d had too much to drink was a porky?’

  ‘A white one, told with the best of intentions.’ Sukey finished her breakfast and took her plates and coffee mug to the sink. ‘It’s time I was leaving for work. What are you planning to do today?’

  ‘Go and see Anita, of course.’

  ‘It might be an idea to phone first.’

  ‘I’ll do that. By the way,’ Fergus hesitated for a moment before asking in a slightly self-conscious manner, ‘how did you get on with Cath and Adrian?’

  ‘Very well – they’re really nice people. We had a lovely evening until the bad news came through.’

  The lad’s face lit up in obvious relief. ‘I’m so glad,’ he said.

  When she arrived at Gloucester police station, Sukey knocked on the door of DI Castle’s office. He was at his desk examining some papers; as he looked up and beckoned her in, she was struck by how tired he looked. He signalled to her to close the door and sit down. ‘Morning, Jim. What’s new?’ she asked.

  ‘Adrian was still there when I got back with Anita last night and he was so badly shaken that I felt I had to offer to drive him to the hospital. I stayed with him while he identified the body and then took him home.’

  ‘That was kind of you.’ And so typical, she added mentally before remarking, ‘You must have been pretty late getting back to the flat.’

  ‘Gone midnight.’ He gave a wan smile. ‘We’ve both been notching up Brownie points for our good deeds lately, haven’t we?’

  ‘I take it the dead woman was Vera?’

  ‘Oh yes. Almost certainly a heart attack, but there’s going to be an autopsy to make sure. The car was properly parked with the handbrake on, which suggests that she felt unwell, pulled off the road to have a rest and just quietly keeled over and died.’

  ‘All on her own – poor old thing,’ said Sukey compassionately. ‘It doesn’t sound as if she suffered much, but it’s a shock for the family. Fergus reckons they’re all going to be very cut up about it.’

  ‘Adrian’s not just cut up, he insists there’s something suspicious about Vera’s death.’

  ‘Whatever makes him think that?’

  ‘He swears there was nothing wrong with her heart. I pointed out that these attacks do sometimes come out of the blue without any warning symptoms, but he’s not convinced.’

  ‘So what’s his theory?’

  ‘He’s made up his mind that the people at the RYCE Foundation are in some way responsible.’

  Sukey shook her head in bewilderment. ‘How does he figure that out?’

  ‘As far as I could tell, it’s just a gut reaction. As you know, he’s pretty obsessive in his mistrust of that outfit.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she said with a wry smile. A sudden thought struck her. ‘It is an odd coincidence, though… that’s the second death this week with a link to RYCE.’

  ‘You’re thinking of Oliver Drew?’ She nodded. He considered for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, it is odd, but I’m sure that’s all it is… a coincidence.’ He gave her a puzzled look. ‘You aren’t suggesting there’s a connection?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She stood up and made for the door. ‘I must go and show my face or I’ll get a rocket from George Barnes.’

  The sergeant was seated at his desk drinking coffee from a mug emblazoned with the words ‘It’s not my problem – go away!’ in eccentric, spiky capitals. ‘Holiday souvenir, Sarge?’ asked Sukey with a grin.

  George grunted. His expression was glum. ‘The wife found it in a souvenir shop while we were away. She thought it was hilarious.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  ‘I would if it was true.’

  ‘What have you got for us this morning – where’s Mandy, by the way?’

  ‘Rang in two minutes ago to say her mother’s not very well and she’s called the doctor. She hopes to be able to make it later on, after he’s been.’

  ‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’ Mandy’s widowed mother had come to live with her a few months previously when her health had started to cause problems. ‘How are we fixed for jobs?’

  ‘
Not too bad at the moment – let’s hope it stays quiet. Two stone fireplaces nicked from a house under restoration in Cheltenham and one smash and grab from a sports shop, also in Cheltenham. And another power mower taken from a garden shed break-in at Burwell Farm. It’s in a village of the same name near Twigworth.’

  ‘Sounds as if someone’s starting up a business in second-hand power tools.’

  ‘Could be.’

  The traffic was moving freely as Sukey drove out of the city and headed north along the A38. Her thoughts turned briefly back to the house at Marsdean, off the same road but in the opposite direction, where she had been working when Jennifer Drew had learned of her husband’s suicide. Despite leaving her home number she had had no further word from the young widow, but the brief conversation with Jim Castle that morning had brought the tragedy back to mind and she resolved to give her a call later on.

  She found Burwell without difficulty, a small village with a single main street. She pulled up outside the post office and general store and went inside to ask the way to Burwell Farm. Behind the counter, a morose-looking individual looked up from the copy of the Sun that was spread out on the counter and peered at her over the top of his spectacles. ‘Yes?’ he said dourly.

  ‘Good morning. I’m looking for Burwell Farm – can you direct me, please?’

  His eyebrows lifted and his mouth twisted in a brief, faintly mocking smile as he replied, ‘You mean the nut-house? Straight up the road and the first on the left.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Sukey hesitated for a moment before asking, ‘Why do you call it the nut-house?’

  He gave a throaty chuckle and licked a finger to turn a page in the newspaper before saying, ‘You’ll find out.’

  Two minutes later, Sukey turned through an open gateway into a short gravelled drive leading to a rambling, brick-built house. Just inside the entrance a painted notice bore the legend ‘Welcome to the ryce foundation.’

  Six

  The drive ended in a gravelled courtyard. The house, which had the appearance of being over a hundred years old, had a pleasantly welcoming aspect, with the morning sun glinting on mullioned windows and lending a glow to the weathered brick. Swags of scarlet and yellow climbing roses adorned the walls on either side of a heavy oak front door, which opened as Sukey parked her van. A young woman emerged with a filing tray of papers in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. High cheekbones, glossy dark hair and olive skin gave her a slightly gypsyish appearance, accentuated by a colourful, ankle-length dress that clung in soft folds to her rounded hips and full bosom. Her teeth flashed white as she greeted Sukey with a friendly ‘Good morning’ and gave a brief glance at the ID she offered for inspection.