Rogue in Porcelain (32 page)

‘
What
did you ask her?'

‘In the first instance, to get to know Miss Parish; one of the reps heard on the grapevine that she was going to be shown the new line.'

‘The new line?' Aidan repeated in bewilderment. ‘What's that got to do with anything?'

‘Word is, it'll make their fortune; we've a right to our share.'

Aidan gave an uncertain laugh. ‘How do you work that out? Going off with one of their wives isn't likely to make them generous.'

‘It's not a question of generosity, they owe us.' Nigel de Salis paused, then drew in his breath. ‘Well, you were going to hear one day, so it might as well be now. George Curzon was your great-great-grandfather.'

There was a long silence. Then Aidan said incredulously, ‘You're saying we're
related
to them? The Curzons?'

‘Yes. Marie de Salis was among a group of immigrant workers employed by the factory. George had a roving eye, she became his mistress and had a child by him. When his wife died, he married her.'

‘There's no proof of that,' Rona interrupted, before she could stop herself.

Nigel's eyes swivelled to her. ‘What do you know about it?'

‘I know she was given a generous, once-and-for-all settlement.'

‘Do you, indeed? Well, that's correct as far as it goes. She bought a stall in Chilswood market, got her hands on some seconds from the factory, and started what eventually became De Salis China and Crystal. As soon as he was old enough, her son Georgie helped on the stall. Then, when old Mrs Curzon died, George married her, though he kept it from his family.'

‘You've no proof,' Rona repeated.

‘Only because the relevant pages in the register were removed. Doesn't that strike you as suspicious?'

‘Perhaps she took them, because no record existed.'

He shook his head dismissively. ‘After old George died, she went to one of his sons, told him the story, and asked for his help. He refused to believe her – or pretended to – and sent her packing.'

He moved impatiently. ‘But this is past history. To get back to Julia, I'm saying the Curzons had her silenced because they realized what she was up to.'

From the corner of her eye, Rona could see the knife still pointing downwards, and risked another question. ‘Why was it so important to know in advance? Why not wait for the announcement, and then make your claim? In all the euphoria, you might have stood a better chance.'

Nigel gave a harsh laugh. ‘No way. The only money I'd ever get out of it was by pre-empting them and selling the secret to the press, for what they call “an undisclosed sum”. And given the chance, that's what I'd have done. I owe it to Marie.'

Rona said softly, ‘Did you start the fire?'

He held her gaze. ‘No, though I would have if I could. I tried once, but I couldn't get near enough, and the blasted thing didn't catch.' His voice was bitter. ‘So I was reduced to writing anonymous letters, telling them I knew what they'd done. I hope they at least had sleepless nights.'

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Being involved in ceramics, I suppose I'm a modern-day “Rogue in Porcelain”. Blood will out, after all.'

Aidan spoke for the first time in a while, and the nearness of his voice made Rona jump.

‘If she hadn't died, you'd have gone off with her again.'

Nigel turned to him. ‘Of course I wouldn't. What makes you think that?'

‘Because you'd been meeting her. Before she came here.'

Nigel looked taken aback. ‘Where did you get that idea?'

‘One Sunday when you were gardening, you left your mobile in the kitchen, and it beeped.'

His father tensed. ‘You didn't—?'

‘Mum was at the garden centre, and I thought she might be wanting to check something. So I read it. But it was from
her
!' There was a wealth of hurt and betrayal in the young voice, and Rona flinched.

Nigel de Salis stood immobile, waiting for his son to continue.

‘It said she'd managed to convince her firm Marsborough would be a good place to canvass. Which meant she'd be coming up regularly for a while, and it would save you going to London.'

‘Oh, God,' Nigel said flatly. ‘All the same, Aidan, you must believe I never intended—'

‘And when you came back last time,' the boy went on inexorably, ‘I heard Mum say if you ever went off again, she'd kill herself.'

Nigel looked stricken. ‘But she didn't mean it, son!'

‘Oh, she meant it. You didn't see how she was last time. All right, so she put on a brave face at the shop, but not at home. She couldn't have gone through it again.'

Rona felt a sudden, creeping coldness, emphasized by the dawning realization on Nigel's face.

He said urgently, ‘Aidan—'

‘I couldn't let you do that to her, Dad.'

‘Aidan, stop! Don't say any more! We'll go home and talk this through calmly. There's no need for Miss Parish—'

‘I knew her number must be on your mobile, though it took a while to find, because it was listed as JT. That foxed me for a while, till I heard she was calling herself Teale.'

‘For God's sake—'

‘So when you were in the shower that morning, I sent her a text from your mobile, asking her to meet you here, and to erase the message as soon as she'd read it.'

Before Rona could reassess the position, her eye was caught by a movement in the entrance. In the same instant several uniformed figures materialized, one of them with a dog on a leash. She heard Aidan gasp as he raised the knife again – possibly in self-defence – and Nigel, seeing their frozen faces, spun round as the foremost policeman said evenly,

‘Now, we don't want any accidents, do we? Look at me, lad!' This as Aidan glanced frantically from side to side, seeking a means of escape. Then, more firmly, ‘
Look at me!
'

An officer stepped forward and took Nigel's arm. ‘Will you come with me, please, sir?'

Nigel struggled against his grip. ‘But my son—'

‘The situation's in our hands now, sir. We'll deal with it.'

To Rona's surprise, some of the tension left Aidan as his father was led, still protesting, out of the enclosure.

‘Now,' said the first man calmly, ‘I'm going to ask you to drop the knife on the ground and kick it away from you. Will you do that for me?'

Aidan didn't move, and his knife hand, now shaking violently, was only inches from Rona's arm. Briefly, she contemplated knocking the weapon from his hand, but he might, in a panic, turn it on her. Then, once again, this normally law-abiding young man responded to authority; with a frightened little whimper he dropped the knife, kicked it aside, and covered his face with his hands.

Rona, feeling her knees buckle, was incapable of moving, but everything now happened at once. The police moved forward, and a woman officer helped her out of the clearing to where Nigel de Salis waited with his escort, his face a travesty and his body shaken by harsh, guilt-ridden sobs.

So once again she found herself at Chilswood police station.

‘I might have known you'd be there,' Barrett said, eying her dispassionately. Then, noting her pallor, he added abruptly, ‘You OK?'

She nodded, and he relaxed again.

‘Not as clever as you thought, are you, falling for the same ploy as your friend Julia? Lucky you didn't end up the same way. I suppose you're going to tell me you knew it was the boy all along?'

Rona shook her head tiredly. ‘No; though I thought it might have been his mother.'

‘She'd a cast-iron alibi.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘There are a lot of things you don't know, Ms Parish. Might be better if you left matters to those who do.'

‘How did you find out we were there?'

‘A 999 call. Woman visiting her husband's grave passed the entrance to the plot, and saw the boy with the knife.'

‘He wouldn't have used it,' Rona said.

‘He did before.'

‘Not once we'd started talking, and with his father there.'

‘Then how do you imagine it would have ended? With handshakes all round?'

Rona smiled, shaking her head. ‘I'm not saying I'm not grateful, Inspector. I was extremely relieved when the police arrived. What I don't understand, though, is how Aidan even knew about that enclosure.'

‘I can tell you that; his father took him there himself, a few years back.'

‘Why on earth . . .?'

Barrett paused, obviously wondering whether to satisfy her curiosity. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he complied. ‘De Salis has some hare-brained idea he's related to them. He took the boy to the pottery first, then said he should see the graves of the people responsible for their livelihood. In fact, as he admitted in his statement, he wanted to show him his supposed forebears. Couldn't have guessed how it would rebound on him.'

Rona nodded thoughtfully, and, since the inspector was being unusually forthcoming, ventured another question. ‘Could I ask you something else?'

‘You can ask. No saying I'll answer.'

‘Has the cause of the fire been established?'

He nodded. ‘The report came through this morning. Electrical fault. No sign of arson, despite all the rumours.'

‘How bad was the damage?'

‘Despite appearances, it was mainly confined to the wing containing the new line. The whole place will need a massive clean-up, but then it should be business as usual.'

The phone on his desk rang and he spoke briefly into the receiver.

‘Your husband's in the foyer, Ms Parish. And he says to tell you he's got the dog. You'll be required to sign your statement when it's been typed, but that should be all we need from you.'

Rona rose to her feet. ‘Thank you, Inspector.'

He nodded briskly. ‘Just mind you keep out of our way in future.'

‘I'll try,' she said meekly, and went to meet Max.