A Cotswold Christmas Mystery

by Rebecca Tope

  Stephanie was following this closely, wondering why Thea was making it all so complicated. ‘You should just ask Mrs Gladwin to tell you what evidence they’ve found,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that the simplest way?’

  ‘She wouldn’t tell me. Not while she’s still right in the middle of it all.’

  Jessica made an impatient tutting noise. ‘I wish I’d been there,’ she said. ‘She might have told me something – one police officer to another.’

  ‘I doubt it. She sees you more as my daughter than any kind of colleague,’ said Thea. ‘And I suppose we’ll know soon enough. It’s not really as if we’re personally involved, is it? I like the Frowses, and would do anything I could to help them feel more secure – but this is way beyond anything I can offer them. Beverley going off like that is very mysterious, let’s face it. It looks bad. I’m not surprised she’s top of the list of suspects, even if Stephanie’s so certain she didn’t do it.’

  ‘They called you a spy,’ Stephanie reminded Thea, who seemed to be going back on earlier remarks.

  ‘Yes, I know. They were upset, quite understandably.’ She spoke to Jessica, ‘Young Mr Graham passed everything I said directly to Gladwin, needless to say.’

  ‘Of course he did. That’s his job. And don’t pretend you didn’t know he would, all along.’

  ‘It didn’t occur to me that her husband and son would find out, though.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s a minor detail. From the little I’ve managed to glean about the whole set-up, it looks pretty likely to have been the wife anyway – whatever you might think. Or possibly one of the exotic Russian daughters. They might even have dreamt it up as a way of disposing of the Frowses, once and for all. If it’s a frame-up it could still work out as they want it to. Who says the widow’s going to sell up, anyway? Why would she?’

  ‘As a way of disposing of the Frowses?’ Thea echoed, on a rising note of incredulity. ‘Kill her own husband and frame Digby and Ant for it? That’s ludicrous.’

  ‘I don’t think it is,’ Jessica shrugged. ‘You say the man was in pyjamas. Doesn’t that suggest something domestic? Going out like that, with her going along as well – some sort of argument. Then forgetting about the fence, or switching it to high power or something. She might have pushed him into it, or made him hold something lethal, by mistake. Then she panicked and left him there dead.’

  Stephanie and Thea both stared at her. ‘Are you sure you want to join the CID?’ Thea asked. ‘Because I have to say I’m not at all convinced that you’re quite right for it. Can you honestly imagine anything like that happening?’

  ‘Why not? What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘It just doesn’t ring true. These people are multi-millionaires. They’ve got staff. They don’t conduct their marital fights in public. And nobody dies from being pushed against an electric fence. It would have to be planned down to the last detail – which we have to assume it was, because Gladwin doesn’t appear to have found any glaring evidence.’

  ‘She might have done. We really don’t have much idea about that.’

  Both women went quiet, the mystery too much for them. Stephanie was sitting very still on the sofa, with Timmy on the floor beside her. He had stopped listening to the conversation some time ago. Drew was in the kitchen for some reason. The spaniel was on Stephanie’s lap, gently licking her front feet.

  ‘What did you say was for supper?’ Timmy asked idly. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘Leftovers,’ Thea told him briefly. ‘I’ll start making something in a minute.’

  But then her phone warbled and she was yet again distracted. It was Ant, to nobody’s great surprise. ‘I know this is an awful cheek, especially after what Dad said to you, but do you think you could come and fetch Percy and hang onto him until all this business is over?’

  ‘Why? Where are you going to be?’

  ‘That’s just it. We have no idea. It seems more than likely we’ll have to go in for questioning sooner or later. Dad thinks they’re quite capable of turning up at 5 a.m. and carting us off. And then there’s Carla and the others. She was in such a crazy state today, we’re actually a bit scared as to what she might do. Annika’s as bad. Worse, even. We just thought it would be less of a worry if we knew he was being looked after.’

  ‘Well …’ Thea tried to catch Drew’s eye, and assess his likely reaction. ‘I’ve got my brother coming tomorrow, with a small child. Percy’s awfully big.’

  Only then did it become clear to Stephanie and Timmy what was being asked. ‘Yes!’ shouted Timmy. ‘Whatever it is, the answer is yes.’

  ‘I heard that,’ laughed Ant. ‘Seems I’ve got at least one supporter.’

  By a rapid connection, Stephanie recalled the probability that her new-found grandmother was threatening to turn up with a dog far larger than Percy, sometime soon. This would be good practice. She nodded wildly at Thea.

  ‘Drew?’ Thea asked.

  ‘I appear to be outnumbered,’ he said. ‘I just hope you haven’t agreed to adopt a grizzly bear.’

  ‘It looks as if we’ll cope somehow,’ she told Ant. ‘Did you say I had to come and collect him?’

  ‘If that’s not too much to ask. If you get him settled with his dinner and bed and everything, he’s more likely to be acclimatised by bedtime. Though I can’t promise what he’ll do in the night. He’s never been away from here at night before.’

  ‘I’ll come right away, then. Timmy can come with me.’

  She had ended the call before Drew could say, ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘You don’t think what?’ she frowned at him. ‘I’ve said we’ll do it now.’

  ‘Not that – whatever it is exactly. I’d rather you didn’t take Timmy over there, that’s all.’

  ‘We’re only looking after their dog for a day or two. I need someone to hold him while I’m driving. I don’t know what he’s like in a car. He might think I’m abducting him.’

  ‘Take Jessica, then.’

  ‘Oh, no – he’ll get mud and hair all over me. I only brought one jumper.’

  ‘Can I go, Dad?’ Stephanie asked, in a tone she reserved for him alone. ‘I’m fairly muddy already and Percy likes me.’

  ‘He likes me as well,’ muttered Timmy mutinously.

  ‘Just providing you don’t let Thea get embroiled in any more murder stuff. Straight there, collect the dog and straight back, right? I’ll give you twenty-five minutes. And that’s generous.’

  ‘Don’t you love it when he’s masterful!’ giggled Jessica.

  It felt very weird to be back at Crossfield again, this time in a car, with darkness falling. ‘How many times is this, in the past week?’ wondered Thea. ‘I’ve lost count.’

  ‘Do you think Finch will tell Mrs Gladwin about my ideas?’ Stephanie asked wistfully. ‘Or does he just think I’m a silly little child?’

  ‘I think he’s bound to tell someone, but it might not be her. There’s a whole team of them, don’t forget. It’s not at all silly, either. It’s rather brilliant, actually.’

  ‘Just wrong.’ Stephanie gave a deep sigh.

  ‘The thing is, the police don’t work in the sort of way ordinary people expect. It depends entirely on evidence. They quite often know who’s done a crime, but unless they can prove it, they’re not allowed to arrest them or charge them. It’s fair enough, in theory. Otherwise there’d be scope for all sorts of corruption. Guesswork, or taking revenge on somebody, or just cutting corners and not doing the job properly. Do you see?’

  ‘But they have to write down everything people tell them, don’t they? Because some of it might turn out to be evidence after all.’

  ‘That’s exactly right,’ said Thea.

  Ant heard them coming and met them at the door, holding Percy by the collar. ‘I’d better put his lead on,’ he said. ‘But I can’t find it for the moment.’

  ‘We left the car down by the gate, just in case,’ said Thea awkwardly. ‘I mean – in case it’s working again. I wasn’t su
re what to expect.’ She faltered a few more apologetic phrases, unpleasantly aware of the antagonism she had aroused only an hour or two earlier.

  Ant shrugged it all away and went to look again for the dog lead. Thea followed him into the house, but Stephanie was compelled irresistibly to have another look at the contents of the old wheelbarrow, unsure whether or not she hoped they would have disappeared.

  It was all still there. She picked up the strip of copper, which she had at first taken to be wire. In fact it was flatter and wider than that, at least two feet long. She could vividly imagine it being placed across the terminals of the car battery and extended to make contact with the naked skin of the murder victim’s chest. Except of course, he would have to co-operate by keeping still, unless a second person held him down. And the killer would have to wear some sort of protection against receiving a painful shock himself. Gloves, perhaps.

  Digby was all of a sudden standing beside her. She met his eyes, still holding the copper. ‘What are you up to, then?’ he asked, in a friendly voice.

  She should have been more afraid, she thought afterwards. Instead, she simply said, ‘This reminds me of a lesson we did at school – in physics. There’s everything you need here to give somebody a big electric shock. The sponge in the bucket as well.’

  ‘What an amazingly clever little girl!’

  It was not Digby who spoke, but some other person, standing at the gate between the garden and the drive. The fading light showed only a fair-headed woman. She moved towards them. ‘You’ve met your match, my friend. Foiled by a schoolgirl. How will you abide the humiliation?’

  ‘Bronya,’ breathed Digby. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Trying to gather the courage to face my deplorable mother and sister, if you really want to know. But first I thought it might be wise to check how things are with you. I never expected to catch you being challenged by a ten-year-old detective.’

  ‘I’m eleven, not ten,’ said Stephanie. Nothing was making any sense, but that hardly mattered. It was almost unbearably exciting to think she was right at the heart of something crucially important. ‘And I’ve already told the police there’s this battery and things here.’

  ‘Looks bad for poor Mr Frowse, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Looks worse for you, ducky,’ Digby snapped back. ‘You’re not going to lay this on me.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Thea’s voice came loud and clear from the house. ‘Stephanie? What are you doing?’

  Stephanie remembered Drew’s deadline, and wondered how angry he would be when they failed to meet it. Because fail they would. Nobody was going anywhere now.

  She didn’t have to say anything. Thea ran down the garden, obviously scared. ‘Who’s this?’ she demanded, staring at Bronya.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ said the young woman calmly. Stephanie realised that she looked rather like Jessica. The same fleshy shoulders and creamy skin.

  ‘Everyone’s trying to fit me up as the murderer,’ said Digby, with a little laugh. ‘If that’s the right word. When I can tell you for certain that this lady here is the real criminal. Not that there’s likely to be much proof against either of us.’

  They all just stood there, as Ant came slowly to join them, pulling Percy behind him. ‘What’s wrong with his foot?’ Stephanie asked, seeing the dog was limping.

  ‘He’s been licking it for days,’ said Ant. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything much.’

  ‘Let’s see,’ said Thea, taking Percy back to the light of the open door. She bent the front leg back to inspect the underside of the foot. The dog whined when she touched it. ‘There’s a nasty big blister on it,’ she reported. ‘It must be really sore.’

  Ant joined her, bending over the foot. ‘That’s a burn,’ he pronounced. ‘How on earth could that have happened?’

  ‘Battery acid perhaps?’ suggested Bronya, with a malicious laugh. ‘How would that be as a piece of evidence?’

  ‘Absolute nonsense,’ scoffed Digby.

  But there was a kind of congealing of the air around them all, which was the only way Stephanie could describe it. Ant dropped the dog’s foot and looked hard at his father. Thea was gazing into the wheelbarrow and at the copper strip still in Stephanie’s hand. Digby and Bronya seemed to form a unit, custodians of some ghastly truth that was leaking out despite their best efforts to contain it.

  ‘Dad?’ said Ant in a low voice.

  ‘The police are certain to fit it all together, you know,’ said Thea. ‘Probably thanks to Stephanie.’

  ‘She certainly is a clever girl,’ said Bronya. ‘Almost as clever as me.’

  ‘Much cleverer than you, dear,’ said Digby. ‘Your mistake was thinking I had anything to lose. Now Beverley’s given up on me, it hardly matters what comes next. And when it comes to it, you’re even more of a loser than me, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I’m going now,’ was the reply. ‘And I wish you luck.’ But she only moved two steps away and then hesitated.

  Stephanie thought again of her father, counting the minutes. Thea had not brought her phone with her, so he couldn’t call to demand where they were. But now Bronya was leaving, much of the tension was going with her.

  Digby sighed. ‘She killed him, you know,’ he said, as if imparting some barely relevant news. ‘She enticed him into the woods, late on Thursday, and used my battery to kill him. Isn’t that so, my lady? She’d intended to throttle him, I fancy, but changed her mind when I turned up. Not that I realised, of course.’

  ‘You’re talking nonsense,’ Ant said angrily. ‘Pure fantasy.’

  ‘It would be nice to think so. There was a fantasy, of a sort, I suppose. I’ve dreamt for years of ways to do away with that man. Murder must be easy, I thought, if the bastard who killed my girl could get away with it. The pacemaker clinched it. Fibrillation, you see. That’s the thing. If you can interrupt the heart’s rhythm with an electric current, it never gets right again, and the person dies. Really quite simple in the theory, but extraordinarily complex in the execution. But thanks to loud voices and the digital revolution, I was greatly helped by this young lady.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Bronya. ‘You know nothing.’

  ‘I know he was after you for sex. Every time you came visiting, he’d be chasing you around, day and night. And I could see you weren’t keen. Microphones, in case you’re wondering. Tucked into the wall of your precious parterre all summer, and under the windowsills. Placed under cover of darkness out of view of your nasty cameras. I heard you and him go out on Thursday night and grabbed my chance.’

  ‘Dad, be quiet!’ Ant ordered. ‘You sound as if you’re boasting about killing someone.’

  ‘Oh, but I didn’t. That’s what I’m telling you. Thanks, as it happens, to your poor innocent mother.’

  ‘She said she came back,’ Ant remembered slowly. ‘When? What did she see?’

  ‘She saw Bronya and Rufus in the woods, apparently doing the dirty deed. And because old Percy had somehow got out and followed me, when I went up there with the battery and other things, she assumed it was me rather than Rufus. She gave a bit of a shout, and tipped the wheelbarrow over. The dog might have got acid on him – I don’t know. I picked it all up again, left Bronya to her fate and scooted back home with the barrow, thinking to set things right with Bev. But she just drove off and didn’t come back until today.’

  ‘Did Bronya know you were there, planning to kill Rufus?’ Thea asked. The Russian woman was unmoving, saying nothing. It looked as if at least some of Digby’s account was new to her.

  ‘Oddly enough, no. The plan, you see, was to get him while he was next to his damned fence, whack him with the kit I’d assembled, preferably with Bronya’s willing assistance, and hope the cops would think it was an accident. After what I’d heard, I didn’t think she would raise any objection. And I was right.’ He looked at the statuesque woman with something close to affection.

  ‘Nobody will believe such a crazy story,’ she
said, holding his gaze. ‘Or if they do, they’ll charge you as an accomplice. Or worse.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Digby meekly. ‘I won’t argue if they do.’

  The sound of the Old Stables landline pealing imperiously brought them all back to the present. ‘It’ll be Dad,’ said Stephanie.

  And it was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was Wednesday afternoon before Gladwin phoned and Beverley Frowse visited. It had not snowed and Damien was on his way. Drew was doing his best to forgive the flouting of his instructions regarding Thea’s return from Crossfield. Jessica was all packed up, and had exchanged five texts with Finch Graham on matters not concerning murder.

  ‘I gather we should thank you,’ said Gladwin, when she phoned.

  ‘Is it all sorted now?’

  ‘We’re still not quite there, but at least people are talking to us. I ought to warn you, though, I think you’ve probably lost a friend.’

  ‘Even the dog doesn’t like us much,’ Thea agreed. ‘We shut him in the kitchen and he whined all night.’

  ‘You’ve got their dog?’

  ‘Stephanie insisted. She was the only one with a clear head yesterday. That’s why we went back there in the car, you see.’

  ‘Not really, but it probably doesn’t matter. You met Bronya Blavatskaya, I take it. I still don’t entirely follow what went on between you, but she’s being gratifyingly co-operative.’

  ‘I met her, but I have no idea what to make of her. Stephanie says she looks like Jessica, but I can’t see it myself.’

  ‘She’s luscious,’ said Gladwin. ‘There’s no other word for it.’

  ‘And a murderer.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  There was considerably more helpful information from Beverley. ‘I’ve come for Percy,’ she said, appearing at the Slocombes’ front door. The dog rushed to greet her, as dogs so often did – claiming to have been separated for at least twenty years.