Murder on a Summer's Day (19 page)

I walked up the hill towards Westy Bank Wood. The afternoon was still, with barely a breeze. Clouds, sometimes so busy racing across the sky, now looked as though they had been painted on a blue backdrop for a school play.

Smoke rose from the chimney at Stanks’s farm, curling into the air.

I entered the wood and walked the path towards the spot where the bait crow had waited for death or release. Some of the trampled ferns had bounced back. Others lay broken and flat. The trees nearest to Prince Narayan’s resting place were birch, oak and ash. I looked carefully at each tree. It was on the ash that I found the bullet hole. So that part of the inquest findings was true. A bullet, supposedly matching the one from the prince’s gun, had been removed from where it ricocheted into the tree. Being no firearms expert, I had no way of knowing whether this bullet came from the prince’s gun and, if so, whether it first entered his heart.

Through the trees, the sun shone fitfully, but well enough for me to use my watch as a rough compass. I removed my wrist watch, held it with 12 o’clock at the left and moved my arm so the hour hand – it was 2 p.m. – pointed at the sun. By my watch turned compass, I calculated how Narayan had lain. His head was north, his feet pointed south.

His eyes had been closed and his arms had lain by his side. For someone who took a tumble from a horse, he landed surprisingly neatly, and in accordance with tradition for the Hindu dead.

I re-fastened my watch.

‘What are you thinking, Mrs Shackleton?’

The voice startled me. I turned to see the maharajah’s younger brother, Jaya, followed by two young servants dressed in white. The prince had changed from his dark suit and now wore Indian dress, black trousers with a satin sheen, a rich dark plum jacket and a small hat. He was handsome, and knew it. I thought of Mrs Metcalfe’s comments about the maharajah. Here was another man who would break hearts without trying.

‘Good afternoon, your highness.’

‘Good afternoon. This is where my brother was found, I believe.’

‘Yes.’

‘Where was he, exactly?’

I showed him.

He bowed his head and murmured a few phrases in a language soft and flowing.

‘How did he really die?’

I stopped myself from saying that I did not know.

‘A tragic accident.’

‘I am not sure I believe that. Do you?’

‘I can think of no other explanation.’

‘One wonders why a man who had successfully stalked a deer and had it carried off chose to ride on, still carrying his gun, as if about to shoot again, although any deer would have run a mile at the sound of hooves.’

Why had I not thought of that? Others must have. I said nothing.

‘Is the coroner’s verdict final?’

‘The coroner is impartial. I have not heard of challenges.’

I felt uneasy, but how could I side with this total stranger who, for all I knew, was merely testing me?

He shrugged. ‘My father accepts the verdict. He is more apt to believe that the British play by the rules of cricket. He is so full of grief that he has no energy to make a fuss, as he would put it.’

‘Do you wish to make a fuss, sir?’

‘That is not my place. But I want justice for my brother, if justice is called for.’ He turned away and spoke again in his own gentle tongue.

The smallest barefoot servant stepped forward, carrying flowers. Jaya took the flowers from him and spread them on the ground.

The second servant stepped forward, bearing two dishes, which Jaya took from him and placed at the foot of a tree. Yet a third servant appeared and produced jugs.

Jaya poured, saying, ‘Milk and water. So my brother’s soul does not go hungry. The priest will do this tomorrow but perhaps Narayan’s soul will be in a hurry. For justice, he must wait a little longer.’

He dismissed the servants with the slightest of gestures. ‘Tell me what you know, Mrs Shackleton. It will go no further.’

I recognised that line. It is one I use myself. ‘I know nothing, your highness.’

‘It will be worth your while. Chana tells me you have saved my family from being fleeced by my step-brother’s so-called friend.’

‘I am glad to have been of help. And I am sorry for your loss. There is nothing more I can say.’

‘You can’t say, or you won’t say?’

Here was a young man confident in his own authority, used to having answers on demand. It was not up to me to tell half tales to a stranger.

‘Excuse my intrusion into the ceremony for your brother.’

He gave the slightest acknowledgement.

I turned and walked away.

So Jaya, too, suspected foul play. And the Halkwaers’ fellow maharajahs were on their way; to pay last respects, or to seek political advantage, or both.

I changed my mind about leaving Bolton Abbey that very afternoon. This story was not yet over. I felt sick with myself for watching the inquest twisted to suit an anodyne verdict. But perhaps I had got the wrong end of the story. Maybe it was true, and I was mistaken. What if the body had lain undiscovered? It is ridiculous to expect everyone to search as meticulously as they ought, or to behave rationally in the face of death. Joel was not the kind of person to do something logical. If he had seen a body, and it frightened him, perhaps he had tried to cover it with branches. He might have feared the crows would pluck out the prince’s eyes.

It was not rational that Joel should abandon his house and sleep in a barn near a dead doe, unless what Presthope said of him was true.

On leaving the wood, I walked along the track to Stanks’s farm. I would take one more look at the barn, and at the doe. Perhaps Joel had gone back there.

When I saw that the doe was no longer hanging from the rafters, a mad picture came into my mind of Joel lowering the animal and taking it for burial in a special place. A more likely explanation was that it had been carried to Bolton Hall, to be served as venison pie.

In the dimly lit barn, I breathed in the scent of hay and damp. Walking towards where Joel had lain sleeping, I looked around. A hoe, a scythe and a bicycle wheel had been left by the wall. There was a battered milk churn and some old machinery.

Perhaps it was because the light was so dim but the smells struck me as more vivid than before. Sykes had been right. Where Joel had lain, on the straw, there was another scent – unless my nose deceived me. It was faint, yet heady, like jasmine.

This was where Narayan was shot. He had come to look at the doe, and so had Joel. Joel had picked up the gun and shot the man who slaughtered his pet. He hid the body in the straw, where no one would think to look. They would be searching for a rider who had been thrown from his mount. When attention was diverted elsewhere, Joel carried Narayan’s body the few short yards back to the wood, where he had been told to shoot crows. He covered it with branches, and then heard the horses as Isaac and I rode along the track. Small wonder he had been startled and cried out.

Isaac knew. He knew what his son had done, and it was too much for the old man to bear.

I removed my gloves, picked up some straw and sniffed. Now it smelled only of straw. In the gloom it would be easy to miss some scrap of fabric, a dark hair. Would there be any point in trying to drag the constable here? Not unless I was prepared to accuse Joel. The sooner I found him myself, the better it would be. At least I might know what to do.

A footstep made me turn. I expected to be accused of trespass and quickly tried to think of some explanation for my being here.

He loomed large, dressed in black. For a brief moment I did not place him, but just knew that here was no farmhand. The voice, oily, insinuating, threatening, struck me like a blow. Thurston Presthope.

In the confined space, he appeared huge as he bore down on me. ‘I haven’t thanked you. I haven’t thanked you for ruining my life.’ He drew closer, slowly, taking his time, blocking my way. ‘What was it to you that I saw a way out of my money troubles? You went running to the aide-de-camp. Because he’s good-looking? Now the Halkwaers intend to call in the debt. His lordship insists on it. I told them you would deny the story. And you will.’

‘No. It’s too late for that.’

‘Mustn’t let the side down. All to be done so nice and quietly, the shredding of my reputation.’ He came closer. ‘Tell them you are mistaken about that piece of paper. Give it to me.’

‘Get out of here.’

‘Leave the scene of the crime? Where our village fool revenged his white doe? I saw you on the hill, Mrs Busybody. There’s a price for poking your nose into what doesn’t concern you.’

‘They’ll come after you. I saw you being led upstairs.’

‘They do not have that precious scrap of paper.’

He grabbed the satchel from my shoulder, tipped its contents into the trough of hay. It was my moment to get out but I was not quick enough. He grabbed me by the arm, then the shoulder and flung me backwards. I struggled, trying to get up but he kicked me, then bent and picked up my brandy flask. ‘Like a tipple, eh?’

He twisted my arm, forcing me to my knees as he rifled through the papers, flinging my hairbrush aside, a penknife, a flashlight. ‘Proper little detective. Where is it?’

‘They have it already.’

‘Liar.’ He had my wrists in one hand. With the other, he unscrewed the top of my brandy flask. ‘It’s your word against mine without that paper. I told them you made a play for me, that you’re a tart, a woman scorned.’

My breath was coming so fast I thought I would choke. He forced the brandy flask into my mouth. Brandy trickled down my chin. Just for a second, I could not breathe at all and felt myself go limp. That was when he pushed me backwards and stuck his hand up my skirt. He had let go of my wrists. As he flung himself on me, I thrust two fingers into his eyes, and in the second when he shifted his weight, from somewhere came the strength to struggle free of him. I ran towards the door. He was after me in an instant. I picked up the scythe and brought it round the back of his knees in a sweeping movement. He fell, giving me time to pick up the milk churn and wallop him in the guts.

Then I ran.

Once out in the open I would be all right. Keep saying that. Keep running. There was no one to call, no one nearby to help me.

Halfway down the hill, I knew Presthope was catching up with me. I had to get to the road, and then where would I run? Too late I knew that I should have raced to Stanks’s farmhouse for help.

Presthope was close behind. I turned and saw him bearing down on me. Then by some miracle, he tripped.

Later, I had no idea what made me jump into his car, or how I managed to start it.

Only when I screeched to a halt outside the hotel, did I slowly become aware that I could not stop shaking, and that I had lost a shoe.

Never have I been so glad to see Jim Sykes. He was sitting outside the hotel, nursing a pint.

‘What on earth has happened?’

No words would come.

He opened the hotel door. ‘Come on, come inside.’

‘I don’t want anyone to see me.’

‘It’s all right. I’ll walk you in. There is no one about. You can do it.’

It took hot sweet tea, several hours, a bath and the ministrations of Rachel before I could trust myself to speak, before I could begin to think straight. No, not straight, just think.

Rachel agreed to believe that I had taken “a funny turn”, but I think she knew something bad had happened and that I wasn’t letting on.

I wanted to go home, crawl into my own bed, and never come out again. I wanted my mother. But if I gave in, then Presthope would have beaten me, and I would not let him do that.

When I forced myself to think, it was as if I had to split myself in two, with the stronger part of me telling the useless me what to do.

‘Rachel, tell Mr Sergeant to open the safe for me, and ask Mr Sykes to meet me at the front entrance.’

She hesitated. ‘Yes madam, if that’s what you want.’

When she had gone, I thought I would give her five minutes. I looked not at my watch but at the clock because for some odd reason I did not want to see my own hand, or wrist. I felt such a coward, and so stupid.

After five minutes, I made myself leave the room. Mr Sergeant, of course, knew of my “funny turn”.

‘Are you feeling any better, Mrs Shackleton?’

‘Yes, thank you. That envelope I gave you, Mr Sergeant, I’ll take it now.’

He took the envelope from the safe.

At the door, I gave it to Sykes. ‘This is a receipt for ten thousand pounds that the maharajah entrusted to Thurston Presthope. Hand it to Mr Chana, no one else.’

‘Is that who did this to you? Presthope.’

‘Yes.’

He clenched his fists. ‘Anything else I can do?’

‘My satchel is in Stanks’s barn, and there’s a shoe…’

He looked away. ‘Did he…?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll…’

‘Don’t. Just do as I ask. And I need you to find where Joel Withers is hiding.’

The knock on my room door startled me. I had been lying on the bed, staring at my eyelids.

‘Who is it?’

‘I say, Kate, are you all right?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be all right?’ I opened the door.

James looked peeved. ‘No need to snap my head off. You do look a bit peaky.’

‘Have you come to see me off the premises?’

‘Why on earth do you think I would want to do that? I’ve been looking for you. Well done on your masterly intervention. You added just the right touch to the inquest.’

I sat in the chair. ‘Not the touch I wanted.’

He perched on the corner of my bed. ‘We need your help.’

‘To do what? Help whitewash another inquest? There will be one tomorrow, in Skipton, on poor Osbert Hannon.’

‘I know this has been hard for you, and we greatly appreciate it, really. I want to show you something, in the prince’s room.’

If I refused, it would be out of character. He would know something was wrong. ‘All right.’

The trouble is, curiosity will be my downfall. I daresay if some evil-eyed monster promised me an interesting revelation in the corner of a dark alley, I would be fool enough to follow, even after my nightmare in the barn.

We walked up to the first floor.

The door to Narayan’s room stood open. I heard voices in a foreign tongue, one threatening and angry, the other pleading and whining.

When we entered, I saw Mr Chana, the aide-de-camp. He stood by the open safe. A pile of fabulous jewels gleamed on the dressing table. I moved closer, to look at the magnificent pieces. There was a seven-strand string of the most perfect pearls I have ever seen, diamond cufflinks and tie pins, emeralds, Cartier watches, and brooches – a ruby surrounded by diamonds, and a diamond surrounded by rubies.

‘These belong to the maharajah? The brooches and pearls?’

Chana spoke coldly, without looking at me. ‘Some are ceremonial.’

Next to the jewels were the boxes and bags they had come from, boxes of carved cedar wood, delicate ivory, cherry wood embossed with gold leaf, a light wood embossed with brass, a circular container decorated with silver. The bags were of dark velvet, scarlet, plum, mulberry and black.

Ijahar was staring at the jewels. He trembled and shook his head, speaking in a plaintive voice. ‘I do not know. She must have taken it.’

James looked at the gems. He touched my arm. ‘The thing is, the Gattiawan diamond is missing. It is needed for the cremation.’

I stared at James, not fully taking his meaning, not connecting a diamond with a cremation.

‘His highness must be carried to the cremation ground covered in jewels, and the most important jewel is the…’

‘Dubte suraj ki chamak.’ When I spoke the words, the three men all looked at me.

‘You know where it is?’

‘No. But I did take an inventory of the jewellery Miss Metcalfe took with her. The diamond was not one of the pieces. Perhaps it is in the hotel safe.’

In an instant Mr Chana bounded towards the door, issuing an order to Ijahar who began to return the jewels to their containers and place them in a Gladstone bag.

James and I followed Chana downstairs. Sergeant was in the office, a mug of tea on the desk beside him. He looked up as Chana tapped on the door.

‘The safe if you please, Mr Sergeant. An item that Maharajah Narayan gave into your keeping.’

‘Certainly.’ Sergeant took a key from his pocket and crossed to the safe in the corner. We watched as he turned the key and opened the heavy door. He reached in and took out a velvet bag with the shape of a box inside. This he passed to Chana.

Sergeant moved to turn the key and lock the safe.

‘Mr Sergeant, would you also please give me my negatives?’

‘Negatives?’

‘Yes. I left them with you on Saturday.’

‘Ah, those negatives.’

‘Yes, those negatives.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Shackleton. I thought you knew.’

‘Knew what?’

‘The constable came asking for them, on behalf of the coroner.’

‘How did he know where they were?’

Sergeant did not look me in the eye. There was little point in remonstrating, and saying that those were my negatives. He had done as he was told, which was why he had this job, a man who knew the proper order of things.

I turned and left.

Curiosity drew me upstairs again. I wanted to see whether the box in the black velvet bag really did contain the Gattiawan diamond.

I entered the hotel room. Straight away, from Ijahar’s expression, I knew that the prized diamond had gone

The jewellery box taken from the bag stood open. It held an exquisite emerald four-leaf clover pendant, earrings and brooch set in white gold.

I knew in an instant for whom this gift had been intended. ‘I believe this was the surprise the prince promised Miss Metcalfe.’

Ijahar came to life. He spoke excitedly, first in his language, and then to me saying, ‘She, she, Miss Metcalfe. She has the dubte suraj ki chamak.’

‘Ijahar, when did you last see the diamond?’

‘Sometimes in a pouch that his highness is wearing.’ He brought his hands from throat to chest, to indicate that the maharajah wore the diamond around his neck.

‘Was he wearing it when you dressed him to go out riding on Friday?’

He shook his head.

‘Did you ask him where it was?’

‘No, memsahib. I do not ask.’

If it were known that the maharajah sometimes carried his diamond with him, that knowledge would give motive enough for foul play.

‘She, Miss Metcalfe. She looks at the jewels.’

That made sense. Why else would Narayan have had her surprise present locked in the hotel safe?

‘She is at her family’s farm. I drove her there. Her trunks have been sent to London by rail, to the Dorchester.’

‘Then they must be sent back. And Kate, she must not be allowed to leave the area.’ I stared at James, sending him the message to do his own dirty work. He left the room saying, ‘I’ll get on to the Dorchester now.’

Chana looked at the emeralds. His mouth tightened. ‘My prince was the most generous of men.’

If he had said aloud, ‘For generous, substitute gullible’, it could not have been more plain.

‘Mr Chana, why did the maharajah take the risk of travelling with so precious a diamond?’

‘When from childhood a person is surrounded by protectors and devoted servants, he feels inviolate.’

‘And trusting.’

He gave a small bow. ‘Thank you for sending your emissary with the note. My prince liked to do things properly. He wanted to marry on a propitious day and to have the blessing of that woman’s father. Now I must return to Bolton Hall and report.’

He left, followed by Ijahar carrying the Gladstone bag of jewels.

I stood looking out of the window, watching as Mr Chana and Ijahar were driven back to the Hall.

James was in the doorway again, looking crestfallen. ‘Please Kate, give me your support. My mother said I wasn’t cut out for the India Office, and I am beginning to think she was right. So, unfortunately, are my superiors.’

He looked sad and helpless, just as he did when he was a little boy wanting to join big boys’ games.

‘What do you want me to do, James?’

‘I know you won’t feel inclined to help, and I do not blame you one bit. But we have less than twenty-four hours to find the dubte suraj ki chamak. It must be part of the funeral ceremony. Do you think it is possible that the Metcalfe woman has it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Will you at least probe her about it? Perhaps appeal to her better nature.’

‘Why don’t you? She may be susceptible to your charming smile.’

‘She won’t trust me not to take the matter further if she has the diamond. But we will not, I promise. If she has it and hands it over, there will be no repercussions. You might remind her that her family’s tenancy on the farm is due for renewal.’

‘If she has that diamond and feels generous towards her family, they won’t need a tenancy.’

‘It is known worldwide. Even she would not dare risk trying to sell it. Please, Kate.’

I did not want to go, but neither did I want to stay in my room, jumping out of my skin at every little sound.