Mrs. Malory and A Time To Die (14 page)

“I haven’t got all the information yet. I thought I would sound out public opinion first.”

That, of course, was sheer sophistry, since, in my long experience, Anthea has never been known to consider any opinion other than her own.

“Well,” I said cautiously, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

“The thing is,” Anthea said, “I believe we would have to raise a proportion of the money ourselves.”

“What sort of proportion?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said impatiently. “That’s a minor point. The thing is to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”

“Well yes, if you think . . .”

“Good. I’ve spoken to all the trustees and most of the committee—I’d have come to you before if you hadn’t been away—and they all think it’s a marvelous idea.”

“I’m sure they do,” I said. And, indeed, I knew they would all be delighted to have extra funds if someone else did the work, though they would reserve the right to criticize and complain at every stage of the proceedings.

“So I’ll write away and get all the forms and things. It really is important that we get something done about that wiring. Poor Esther,
another
death in the family; she must be dreadfully upset. She didn’t send the ginger cake she promised for the bring and buy sale, but, of course, I quite understood.”

 

Having a son who shoots and plays cricket is marvelous; it opens up a whole range of people who engage in useful activities. Michael’s mates now include doctors, dentists, plumbers, carpenters, electricians, computer wizards, and (should you need them) gamekeepers and slaughterhouse workers—just to give a general cross section—who will all turn up and
do
things for you when you need them. Michael, on his part, provides general legal advice as part of the give-and-take. Steve is one of the cricketing fraternity (useful medium-pace bowler who can bat a bit) and he duly turned up the following day.

“I’ve got a job on at Porlock,” he said, accepting a cup of tea and a biscuit, “so I thought I’d drop in on my way and see what the problem is.”

“Just another point, really,” I said, “but, actually, what I’d really like is for you to move most of the points higher up. I find bending right down a bit of a problem now. And with the angle they’re at, I can get the plugs in all right, but I find pulling them
out
quite difficult.”

“No problem, Mrs. M. I can put battens in at waist height if you like.”

“That’s marvelous. And I do feel now that I ought to pull plugs out at night, just to be sure, after what happened to poor Jo Hamilton. That really was a terrible thing, an accident that should never have happened.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not so sure,” he said.

“What do you mean, not sure?”

“Well, I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but when it happened, Bob Morris, who’s in charge—he’s an inspector now; done very well—anyway, he asked me to have a look at the wiring up there at the stables. Bob used to play for Taviscombe, you remember, a couple of seasons ago—wicketkeeper, a really safe pair of hands—and we’re mates, so it was sort of unofficial, if you know what I mean.” I nodded. “Well, anyhow, I went up there and you wouldn’t
believe
the state of that wiring.” I made a murmur of horror. “What you might call real spaghetti—wires all tangled up; you wouldn’t credit it!”

He paused for me to take in the enormity of what he was saying.

“Really?” I said.

He leaned forward as if to emphasize the confidential nature of what he was about to say. “When I’d sorted that lot out, guess what I found?” I shook my head. “That lead—the one for the electric fences—it was frayed all right; easy to see how it could have shorted and killed someone. But” he paused to give the full effect—“
but
, that fraying was never just ordinary wear and tear. Oh, it might have looked like it to a layman’s eye, as they say, but I could tell. It had been frayed deliberately!”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“As sure as I’m sitting here. Deliberately. If you knew what you were looking for, you could just see the marks where someone had been at it with a knife.”

“But that’s terrible.”

“Exactly, that’s what Bob Morris said to me when I told him. ‘That’s terrible, Steve,’ he said. ‘That means this wasn’t an accidental death at all. This could be murder.‘ He said, ‘Would you stand up in court and say that lead had been tampered with?’ and I said ‘Yes, I take my oath it had.’”

“But it’s impossible. Who on earth would want to kill Jo? Everyone loved her!”

Steve shook his head. “Well, you never know, do you. Like they say, human nature’s a terrible thing. Well, I must be off. Mrs. Henderson’ll be wondering what’s become of me. I’ll give you a ring sometime next week about those points.”

When he’d gone I sat for quite a while trying to take in the implications of what he’d said. It had been bad enough to face the fact that Jo was dead without this terrible new possibility. I could think of no one (apart from Charlie) who was so well liked, no one less likely to be—I could hardly bring myself the even think the word—murdered. But Steve was a good electrician, very experienced and unlikely to make a mistake, and certainly not in a situation like this.

Tris, who’d been sitting quietly at my feet, began to make little whining noises, which meant that he wanted to go out. Foss, suddenly materializing beside him, jumped up onto the table, to the imminent danger of the tea things, making his own vocal demands. I got up slowly and took the tray over to the sink and let the animals out into the garden. On an impulse I phoned Thea.

“Steve’s just been here to see about the points for me,” I said.

“Oh good, Michael said he’d rung him. He’s very good. He did a marvelous job for us with that outdoor light. It’s made such a difference.”

“Yes, I’m sure it has. Actually, when he was here he said something about Jo’s accident at the stables.” I told her what Steve had told me about the wiring. “And now Bob Morris thinks Jo was—was killed deliberately.”

“I don’t believe it,” Thea said. “Not Jo—who’d want to kill her? It’s ridiculous.”

“I know, but Steve was absolutely positive and there’s no way he’d have said anything if it wasn’t true.”

“No, I suppose not, but it’s an awful thought. I wonder what’s happening. You know Bob Morris, don’t you? Could you ask him?”

“I’m not quite sure how I could approach him, but I’ll think about it. Roger would be the one to ask, of course, but his work is in Taunton now.”

But, as it happened, I ran into Roger quite by chance early on Sunday morning, both of us dog walking on the beach.

“Hallo,” he said, looking up at the threatening sky. “I thought I might be the only one out today, but I know the weather doesn’t normally put you off.”

“Oh, Tris loves the beach and it’s one of the few places I can let him run free. Anyway, it’s always a pleasure to walk here when there’s virtually no one about.” We stood silently for a moment looking at the empty beach and the sea until I said, “Actually, I’m so glad I saw you. I wondered if you knew what’s happening about Jo’s death.”

Roger smiled. “I thought you might ask me that. Well, as you know, I’ve got nothing to do with the case. Bob Morris is in charge for the moment. They might send CID down if they think it’s necessary, but we’ve got a lot of faith in having the local man investigating—and, anyway, there’s the usual manpower shortage. No, Bob’s a good chap and will do a thorough job.”

“I did hear,” I said tentatively, “that it’s possible it might not have been an accident. Something about the wiring . . .”

“Now, how did you hear about that?” Roger said, looking at me quizzically. “No, don’t tell me—it’s probably something I shouldn’t know. Yes, there was a query about that, so, of course, we sent in forensics to have a special look at it and they agreed that it might have been tampered with.”

“So, what then? Is it murder?”

“For the moment it’s being classified as suspicious death, but it depends how the inquiries go if it needs to be upgraded to murder.”

“But Roger, you knew Jo. Who would want to kill her? No one would want her dead!”

He shook his head. “I know, it does sound unlikely, but I’m afraid one thing experience has taught me is that in the case of murder, no matter how improbable it seems, there is always someone who wanted the victim dead.”

Chapter Twelve

Life goes on. It was half term and Alice had been promised a couple of rides. I said I’d take her for the second one.

“Gran,” Alice said as we drove to the stables, “Mummy said Jo’s died and that’s why she wasn’t there on Monday.”

“I’m afraid so, darling.”

“Like Charlie died?”

“Yes, like Charlie.”

“Will she be with Charlie now?”

“I expect so, darling.”

“Liz was very sad on Monday. She’d been crying. I expect she loved Jo very much.”

When I’d handed Alice over to Peggy and went to pay for her ride, I found the door of the office locked and Liz in the tack room. She was in tears. I made a move as if to go away, but she motioned me to come back.

“No, please,” she said. “I’m sorry. Don’t go away.”

“Poor Liz,” I said, “it must be very hard for you.”

She felt for a crumpled tissue in her shirt pocket and wiped her eyes. “It’s been awful,” she said, “but I was just beginning to come to terms with it when I got the news.”

“What news?”

“About Jo’s will and—,” She broke off. “And she’s left me the house and a share in the stables.” The tears came again. “I never thought—it’s too much—I don’t want any of that. I just want her back.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said gently, “but you must do your best to carry on for her and remember how much she must have thought of you to leave you things she cared about so much.”

She nodded. “I know, but I just can’t help . . .”

“I know.”

“But the house—it should have gone to Simon. He was her family.”

“She obviously thought of you as family too. And, really, she knew that Simon couldn’t leave his mother and move in here, not now his father is dead.”

“No, but. . .”

“And,” I continued, “she knew someone had to live here, on the premises, to look after things, day or night, and she knew she could trust you to do that.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right.” Liz gave herself a little shake (a characteristic gesture) and mopped her eyes again. “That’s what she wanted me to do and I mustn’t let her down.”

“I’m sure Simon feels the same.”

“Yes, I think he does. He said we must do what she wanted. He was very kind. He’s been wonderful ever since—you know. Up here every spare minute he has from his job. We couldn’t have managed without him. He says we can’t afford to hire anyone else and that’s all right; I’m sure we can manage. Peggy’s been great, working all hours for no extra money.”

“Are you still busy?”

“Most of our regulars still come, but a few people have canceled. I suppose they think it’s not safe or something.”

“Things will sort themselves out.”

“That’s what Simon says. He says we must have a proper meeting soon, the three of us, to plan for the future, but—well, we’ve been so busy.”

“I’m sure Simon will manage things; he’s very methodical.”

“Yes, he’s brilliant.”

I was silent for a moment. Then I asked, “Have the police finished here now?”

“I think so. Inspector Morris came at the beginning—you know—and asked me how I found Jo and that sort of thing. He came several times to look at things in the office. Then a couple of people came back with him and they examined it as well, something to do with the wiring. Inspector Morris wanted to know if anyone had checked the wiring or the switch lately, but I couldn’t tell him. I suppose they might have done, but you know how it is here; we’re in and out all the time and don’t take much notice of things.” She stopped suddenly. “If only we
had
noticed something wrong, Jo wouldn’t have died—that’s awful!”

“The office is locked now?”

“Yes, Inspector Morris asked us to keep it locked. Until he’d finished making inquiries, he said. Anyway,” she went on, “I don’t think any of us want to use it now.”

There was a knock on the door and a woman and a young girl came in to make a booking, so I put the money for Alice’s ride on the shelf that Liz was using for a desk and went outside. Peggy was calling out instructions to the children riding round the ring, just as Jo used to do.

“Sit deep in the saddle, Jemma. Keep your contact, Poppy. Your reins are like washing lines! Fiona, squeeze; don’t
kick
. Heels
down
, Alice—you’re not keeping your balance—that’s better.”

It all seemed so timeless, somehow, as if, any moment, Charlie would come limping out of the stable block and Jo would lead Tarquin out into the sunshine. They’d seemed so secure, happy in their own little world; hard to believe that it and they had gone forever. After a while Peggy led the children back out of the ring; Alice dismounted and led Cracker over to where I was standing.

“Gran, Peggy said I can go in with Fiona and help with the tack.”

I looked at Peggy, who nodded. “All right,” I said, “but not too long, because Mummy will be expecting us back for tea.”

The children went off into the stable yard and I turned to Peggy.

“It must be difficult, just the two of you doing everything,” I said.

She shrugged. “We manage,” she said. “A lot of the kids like helping and they’re pretty useful, and Simon comes in every day. But we miss Jo, not just for the stable work, but in lots of ways—well, you can imagine.”

“Of course. I think you’re all doing wonderfully.”

“It’s hit Liz hardest. I’ve got my own family, but Jo and Charlie were her family and you can see she’s lost without them.”

“I gather the police haven’t finished with the office yet,” I said tentatively.