‘That was all before the ladies arrived, Joseph.’ Mrs Abaddon had the distinct tone of someone reprimanding him. ‘You don’t need to be moving it now.’
‘You shouldn’t be touching anything out there!’ Bridget was appalled again.
‘I’m so sorry. We just didn’t get to finishing before you ladies arrived. There’s always so much to do. It’s no trouble, Your Ladyship.’ Joseph continued. ‘I’ll wheel it—’
‘Wait.’ Mother frowned. ‘You just said it had already been moved.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I didn’t leave it there. I left it on the other side of the courtyard.’
‘It was there when we arrived,’ Aunt Charlotte said. ‘I remember saying I thought it was a mobile gallows.’ She looked around for any sort of acknowledgement.
‘Why would someone move it?’ Gerald said. ‘To tamper with the gates?’
‘No one tampered with them, Gerald,’ Joseph said. ‘They just came down two minutes early.’
‘And then he was shot with a cannonball.’ Aunt Charlotte crossed herself.
‘No, Aunt Charlotte.’
‘No?’
I nodded. ‘No.’
‘I need to leave,’ Tony Voyeur suddenly announced from the back of the hall. ‘There’s too much negative energy here. Three dead people is just really bad karma.’ He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and started for the door.
‘Three?’ Joseph Greengage asked.
‘The vicar’s dead in the priest hole.’ Gerald looked actually excited to impart this news.
Joseph Greengage barely had time to react before Aunt Charlotte cried, ‘Stop, Magic Man! You can’t just leave a murder investigation.’
‘Firstly, it’s not a murder investigation — it’s just you lot running around shouting at each other and finding dead people. And secondly, I’ve got to clear up your mess and practice my new trick.’
‘Your new trick?’ Bridget looked at him coldly. ‘Cutting some poor resident of Greystone in half perhaps? Are your knives real, Mr Voyeur?’
He was astonished. ‘I don’t care for your insinuation! I’ve never hurt anybody, and any allegations—’
‘But it was Lord Elzevir who ended your career, wasn’t it?’ Bridget sneered.
My mind flew back to their argument last night. Something nagged at my brain and had done ever since then. They were standing in his small cluttered front room. He was trying to do tricks. The flowers came back to me. Aunt Charlotte pulling at them. Lord Elzevir was very drunk by that point. He was staggering—
‘Lord Elzevir was rude to you. Insulting you publicly after the flowers trick.’
‘Lord Elzevir was rude and insulting to everyone,’ he said sharply. ‘Now, I am leaving.’
‘Wait,’ I said as if someone had just flicked a switch. ‘Then you performed another trick.’
‘So what? It’s not illegal. It was in my own home. I’ve done nothing wrong. No one can pin anything on me this time.’
‘Would you show us again?’
His eyes darted around the room anxiously. ‘What? Now?’
‘I’m not sure that’s appropriate.’ Mother looked at me doubtfully.
‘There’s a dead vicar in there!’ Gerald said pointing to the open hole.
‘Please,’ I insisted. ‘You should really practice with an audience, shouldn’t you?’
‘Can’t imagine why,’ Gerald said. ‘He never usually has one.’
‘Perform the trick,’ Marsha said. It had the distinct ring of a command to it. Her eyes didn’t leave him once.
He looked around before taking a deep breath. ‘Very well.’ He unfastened his dressing gown and opened it dramatically as if it was a cape.
‘Just exactly what kind of a trick is this?’ Aunt Charlotte looked shocked.
‘There has to be a little theatre, darling,’ he said with a quick shuffle.
‘I think there’s plenty of that already,’ Lee Colman observed, ‘especially given that the dead vicar’s down there.’
Tony paused. ‘Yes, well. This wasn’t my idea. I need to be in the sitting room anyway.’ He looked at Marsha.
She pursed her lips then nodded once. ‘It might be more appropriate.’
We walked in deathly silence down the long hallway. No one spoke, the only sound the tapping of Verity’s cane on the stone.
Inside the room, the red monkey, Dupin, watched us as if we’d just invaded his space. It’s sharp little eyes never left us once.
‘Observe and marvel at the great Voyeur!’ He swept his dressing gown round him again and knelt down in front of the coffee table. He held up a coin just as he’d done before.
‘Tony, how many times have you done this now?’ Gerald sighed. ‘Every bloody party in memory.’
‘Well, if you don’t—’
‘Carry on, Mr Voyeur, please,’ Bridget said, her eyes firmly fixed on him.
‘I can’t believe we’re standing here watching a children’s entertainer when Lord Elzevir is dead outside!’ Lucy Morello shouted. ‘And the vicar’s dead in a hole!’
‘Be quiet!’ Marsha snapped.
‘Why? Why should I? Who the—’
‘Please, Lucy,’ Verity said in her calm voice.
Lucy Morello looked at her and then slumped back into a chair with her bitter eyes still on Marsha.
The monkey made a sound like laughter and we all watched as it performed a little cartwheel of excitement. Its sly little eyes looked at us with amusement. Marsha put her finger to her lips and looked at the monkey. The animal obligingly fell quiet and watched the trick.
‘Now, are we ready for the coin trick?’ Tony Voyeur had the patient, strained look of a teacher waiting for his class to settle.
Aunt Charlotte frowned. ‘Is this the one Pandora uses when you’re stuck in the loo again, Ursula?
‘No, Aunt Charlotte. Just watch.’
‘This is an ordinary coin.’ The magician held it up. ‘Observe!’ He then proceeded to perform the trick we’d seen before, standing up at the end with a look of profound satisfaction on his face, holding the coin in the other hand.
‘I don’t see how this gets us any closer towards finding out who killed these people.’ Bridget folded her arms across her chest.
‘Oh, I think we all know who killed Lord Elzevir!’ Lucy Morello’s face was set with a vicious look.
‘Lucy!’ Mrs Abaddon admonished. ‘Be careful of your manners, young lady.’
‘Please.’ Verity held out her hands calmly.
‘I think Miss Morello has a point,’ Lee said quietly and placed his hand on Verity’s shoulder. ‘Lord Elzevir is dead, Jocasta is dead and no one can get in or out of this village. The vicar was the prime suspect, so now it has to be—’ he paused — ‘one of you.’
‘I suppose it could always be you.’ Mirabelle’s voice was shaking. ‘His Lordship was going to evict you.’
Lee Colman frowned. ‘I’m not sure you’ve got any place to be saying that.’
Mirabelle looked ashamed.
‘Hey!’ I said. ‘You don’t know us well enough to speak to us like that.’ I glanced at Mirabelle. ‘We’re all in danger. She has every right.’
‘Do I need to be here for this?’ Tony Voyeur was slinking towards the door.
‘Young lady—’ Gerald looked at me — ‘I think we should all mind our manners and just remember this is our village and you are guests.’
‘Oh and your beloved castle, Mr Bradshaw?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, let’s not forget all the deaths involved historical elements very few people would be familiar with.’ I listed them off on my fingers. ‘A cannonball between the portcullis gates, the ducking stool and the priest hole. It’s almost as if someone was making a point, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ He shook his head. ‘Any number of people in this room are very familiar with those things and can operate them. The dead man’s wife for one.’
‘Oh
, well, we all know I’m prime suspect!’ Marsha gave a bitter laugh.
‘And why would I want to kill Jocasta and Reverend Vert?’ Gerald looked confrontational, no doubt channelling his re-enactment face.
‘Same reason anyone else would who’d killed Lord Elzevir.’ Bridget continued to stroke the cat. ‘Because they saw the killer.’
No one moved. Tony Voyeur paused by the door.
Bridget waited, enjoying the moment. ‘The vicar and the witch were having a secret assignation at the church. Ursula even saw their torch light.’
She crossed herself and continued. ‘They came through the cemetery, from where you can clearly see up the road to the portcullis. We all got to Verity’s at roughly twelve fifteen to tell her the terrible news. Jocasta then came to the door. When she was asked what she was doing out in the cemetery she said “ghost hunting”. The killer, who was undoubtedly one of us, realised what she’d said and that the witch and Reverend Vert had been positioned where they may very well have seen them. Perhaps Jocasta ran back to warn the vicar. “I need to get to him,” she said. She would have said “husband” or even “Ron” there, surely.
‘The killer goes out later, when they have the luxury of time, and waits. First Jocasta is killed, presumably on her way home, and the killer indulges in the theatre of strapping her to the ducking stool. The killer then goes to the vicar’s filthy little kennel, kills him and drags his body through one of the tunnels that come up under the various gravestones. What better place to hide a dead man of the cloth than a priest hole?’
‘This is ridiculous and utterly libellous!’ Gerald shouted.
‘It’s only libel if it’s written down,’ Aunt Charlotte said absently. ‘It’s slander if it’s spoken. Isn’t that what the lawyer said about your blog, Pandora?’
‘Not now, Charlotte,’ Mother glared.
‘You have no proof of anything!’ Gerald started to walk to the door.
‘Oh, don’t we?’ Bridget’s voice had a devious note to it.
Gerald paused, and a strange, sharp look entered his eyes. Suddenly the twee little local historian had morphed into something entirely different.
Bridget looked around with a self-satisfied smile. ‘Mr Bradshaw, you told us you were due to go metal-detecting but you couldn’t because your equipment was missing.’
‘That’s right and it’s true. You can ask Harriet.’
‘Your wife? You mean the woman who noticed Jocasta was tied up with your rope?’ Bridget arched an eyebrow. ‘You had a thorough working knowledge of the portcullis, yes?’
He frowned.
‘And were aware of the Midnight Gun, the cannonballs and the murder hole, yes?’
‘Everyone was!’
The monkey gave a little high-pitched scream and clapped his hands together. He then scampered up and over the top of the pelmet above the curtains. He was no longer fastened to the perch by the lead.
‘We have to think about what we’ve just seen,’ Bridget continued.
I watched the monkey tiptoeing along the curtain top, his glassy eyes taking it all in.
‘Come down immediately, Dupin.’ Marsha was strangely irritated by the monkey. It watched her but didn’t move. She mouthed something under her breath before making a strange clicking sound with her tongue. The monkey gambolled down the folds of velvet with ease and sat obediently on its perch, watching Marsha intently.
She looked around us. ‘Something Elzevir used to do.’
‘I think the key to this is how the cannonball came to be directly above Lord Elzevir’s head and drop from mid-air without a person being in there to hold it up,’ Bridget said firmly.
‘There’s the platform, I suppose,’ Mrs Abaddon said. ‘Joseph’s just been moving it around. You could stand on that, couldn’t you?’
Joseph nodded. ‘But it would take some to get it out of the way. It’s not the easiest to manoeuvre. Wouldn’t get it out before the gates came down.’
‘Lord Elzevir would have seen the platform and the person on top. He’d hardly go and stand underneath and wait for them to drop it on his head,’ Aunt Charlotte said.
‘Mr Bradshaw can we just come back to your missing e—’
The monkey let out another scream.
‘Quiet, Dupin!’ Marsha held up her finger. She made the strange clicking sound again and the monkey ceased immediately, as if it had been instantly caught in her spell.
Tony Voyeur was edging towards the door again. I watched him glancing from one person to the next. He had the look of a man worn out by life, performing his cheap tricks to people who didn’t want to watch, laughed at routinely by richer, more powerful men like Lord Elzevir, who had just taken everything he ever had without the need for sleight of hand. Lord Elzevir crushed him and moved on nonchalantly. What must it have been like to live in the shadow of this castle, in the shadow of the very man who had led him to this?
The monkey made his presence felt again and Marsha glared at him. The creature was growing increasingly agitated, hopping from one foot to the other. His little squawks coupled with Marsha’s rising anger were definitely adding to the tension.
‘Shh, Dupin.’ Verity held a finger to her mouth. She smiled at the monkey, who instantly grew calmer.
The magician was almost through the door.
‘Mr Voyeur,’ I called. I stood up.
‘Not now, Ursula.’ Mother spoke to me as if I might be her pet little monkey that needed controlling. I had that unnerving feeling I have when I know everyone is looking at me. Even the monkey.
‘What?’ Tony paused.
I walked towards him.
The monkey dropped from his perch and ran across in front of me. He jumped up onto the table and picked up an apple.
‘Dupin!’ Marsha frantically made the clicking noise. But the monkey did not respond this time.
He ran up the bookcase with the apple firmly in his hand. A collection of swords was perched at the very top of the bookcase in an overlapping display, one sword across another, to form a grid-like pattern. Dupin peered through with his small face and bright eyes. He then carefully, with a concentration that implied he was well practised, climbed through the small metal square formed by four swords. We watched in horrible wonder as he slipped his tiny body through, followed by his back legs, which he hooked through, first one, then the other. The little creature had successfully negotiated the smallest of dangerous spaces without a cut to him. He looked down on us for appreciation before dropping the shiny green apple directly onto the top of Tony Voyeur’s head.
‘Why you little . . .’
His voice trailed off as the same thought travelled round us each in turn.
‘It was the monkey,’ Aunt Charlotte announced.
CHAPTER 31: THE TRICK OF IT
We all stared at the monkey as it danced from leg to leg with nervous glee.
‘Dupin, down now!’ Marsha clicked her tongue furiously.
‘You trained the monkey to kill him,’ Lucy said as if she was in a trance. ‘You trained his own monkey to drop that cannonball. You evil—’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Marsha frowned. ‘How on Earth would you expect anyone to believe that? What absolute nonsense.’
‘Marsha?’ Verity’s voice was quiet.
‘Oh come on. You can’t possibly believe . . .’ Marsha trailed away as she saw the doubt blooming in Verity’s face. ‘Dupin copies what he sees. He must have seen it happen from the house.’
‘You can’t see inside the gatehouse from the house,’ Gerald said coldly.
‘Well, I don’t know.’ She looked flustered. ‘Perhaps he saw it being set up.’
‘And he’d assume that someone was going to kill Lord Elzevir, would he?’ Mirabelle was growing brave again.
‘He’s heard us all talking about it.’ Marsha clicked her tongue again. ‘We’ve done nothing but talk about it since we got in this room. He’s just acting it out. Get down, Dupin.’
Finally, the monkey s
carpered down using the books to grip onto. His fast little hands passed from the Bronte’s backs down through collections of Keats and Byron, his claws gripping along the spine of Shakespeare and sinking into the finely bound Dickens and Austen. He left a trail of tiny paw prints across their untouched dusty leather, like a fine thread weaving along them. Over encyclopaedias, the French Revolution and map books he scampered, until he made it to the floor.
‘You certainly have a lot of control over the beast.’ Gerald’s eyes filled with suspicion.
Lucy was on her feet, spitting out anger again. ‘Surely you don’t expect people to believe that the monkey has been listening all this time and is working out the culprit?’
‘I don’t care what you believe.’ Marsha glared at her. ‘Isn’t it a little far-fetched to suggest I trained a monkey to kill my husband with a cannonball? Wouldn’t it have been easier to push him down the stairs?’
‘Oh, so you have thought about ways to kill him!’
‘Stop!’ Mrs Abaddon said sharply.
Bridget put the cat down on Mirabelle’s lap without looking at her.
Mrs Abaddon continued, ‘We need to keep some grip on reality. No one is seriously suggesting Her Ladyship trained up a monkey to murder her husband. I see that monkey every day. I take more care of it than Her Ladyship. She has no time for the animal whatsoever.’
‘Maybe His Lordship trained it to kill someone else and it got it wrong.’ Aunt Charlotte attempted to look astute. She looked a little more pained.
‘He had less control over it than anyone,’ I said.
‘Hmm, yes,’ she mused. ‘Remember the wig.’
‘No one trained the monkey!’ Marsha said fiercely. ‘It’s just acting out. It does that. Copied Elzevir. It drinks whiskey. It watches TV. It dresses up in my underwear.’
‘What?’ I said.
She shrugged. ‘Elzevir thought it was funny and then Dupin just kept doing it.’
No one spoke for a moment.
‘We’re going down some very dark rabbit holes now.’ Gerald frowned.
‘Or monkey holes,’ Aunt Charlotte added sagely.
I looked at her. ‘Monkey holes?’
THE SUPPER CLUB MURDERS a gripping murder mystery packed with twists (Smart Woman's Mystery Book 3) Page 22