03 - Murder in Mink (3 page)

“He’s a drunken wastrel.” Glorianna said bluntly.

“He doesn’t get on with father, never has from what I understand.”
Peg added, “The pair of them are virtually enemies, from what I make out.
Eustace keeps his distance, which is just as well. We see him maybe at
Christmas, or at gatherings like this, but otherwise he keeps at his Club in
the city.”

“Does he resent that? You know, being exiled from his
family home?”

“If he does he can hardly complain, it’s his own fault.”
Peg shrugged her shoulders, “I think there was a huge rift between him and
grandfather. The only reason he wasn’t disinherited is because father stood up
for him. Eustace should be grateful.”

“People don’t always think that way.” Clara observed.

“Well he drives me to distraction.” Glorianna stubbed out
her cigarette, “I’ll just be glad to get rid of him after the wedding. I shan’t
be asking him to stay on any longer. I try to be nice and you see how he throws
it back at poor Hogarth.”

“Andrew is certainly blistering about it.” Laura said,
with almost a hint of mischief.

“Oh Andrew understands his uncle.” Peg reassured them
all, “He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know if I ever will.” Glorianna raided the
mantel box for another cigarette, “I’ll kill him if he ruins Andrew and Laura’s
wedding.”

Clara wished people wouldn’t say such things in her
presence; they had a nasty way of etching themselves onto her brain.

Clara accepted the invitation more out of curiosity than
anything else. Why, after all, was Laura Pettibone asking her to call round the
day before her wedding? She decided not to mention the invite to any of the
Campbell family and headed across the family estate, aiming for the rough
direction of the village where Laura lived. It was a fine day and spring was
reassuringly in the air, soon it would be summer and the welcome warmth would
revive everyone after the damp and cold of winter. Clara ambled down the path
enjoying the freedom of a quiet stroll away from the tensions of the house.
What to make of it all? Would Eustace really upset the wedding? No, he didn’t
seem to be
that
insensitive. Just inclined to make his presence known by
being as rude and aggressive as possible. Hogarth would surely keep him in
check.

“Good morning.”

Clara woke from her thoughts to see the local vicar
tipping his hat to her. She smiled back. Their paths crossed as he headed passed
her towards the church on top of the hill. She supposed she would be seeing
more of him tomorrow.

The lane wound into the village taking Clara past a small
sweet shop and a pharmacy with big, elongated glass jars of blue liquid in the
window. The post office loomed and she nipped inside for directions to Laura’s
house. Within moments she was back on her way, taking a right turn passed the
pub and finding herself suddenly approaching a grand, grey building. It was not
on the lavish scale of the Campbell residence, but nor was it humble. The front
door was set beneath a pillared portico and a string of windows gazed out onto
the front drive. A deliveryman was just leaving as Clara entered the gate and
the house had a bustling feel to it, as though it was alive and busy in its own
right. She took two steps to the front door and rang the bell.

A maid showed her to Laura’s sitting room upstairs. The
bride-to-be was reclining on a white sofa in a silk dressing gown, her hair
heaped in bouncy curls about her shoulders. She cast aside a movie magazine as
Clara entered and stretched out her arms.

“Is it eleven o’clock already?” She asked languidly.

“A little after.”

Laura swept off the sofa gracefully and enfolded Clara in
her arms. For Clara, always rather reserved with affection, the sudden embrace
of a virtual stranger caught her off-guard.

“I’m so glad you could come. Would you like to see my
wedding dress?” Laura grabbed her guest’s arm and hauled her into the bedroom
next door.

The bedroom was decorated in an assortment of cream and
white colours, the effect almost blinding. In another home it would have seemed
barren, or even bleak, but it was off-set by the piles of gowns in rainbow
colours cast everywhere. Shoes were haphazardly discarded on the carpet and
scarves and wraps hung off the bedstead in a row. Clara found the room
strangely claustrophobic despite its brightness and wondered how anyone could
sleep in it.

“This is it.” Laura pulled out a white dress that, in
contrast to the rest of the clothes in the room, was neatly contained on a
hanger. It was just the sort of dress Clara had imagined Laura in. Straight-cut,
low-waisted with a plain sash cutting across the hips and the skirt in straight
pleats. It would hang just above the ankle, exposing a pair of white calf-skin
shoes with a thick heel and a ribbon to tie them rather than laces.

“This is the veil.” Laura pulled a tight hat onto her
head, almost masking her short bob and pulled the long and vast veil about her.

Clara came forward and helped her arrange it.

“It is very pretty.”

“Do you think so?”

“Certainly, and it will suit you down to a ‘T’.”

“I think it the bees’ knees.” Laura removed the veil and
put away the dress.

Clara wondered if this was all she had been summoned for.
To examine a dress and pass comment, or whether there was more motive behind
her urgent invite. After all, if Laura wanted a mother-substitute Glorianna
Campbell was by far the better choice.

“I noticed your dress yesterday.” Laura had sat at her
dressing table and was combing out her hair, “I thought it suited you well.”

Clara hoped that was a compliment; her dress had been
made up by Annie her maid following a pattern in a women’s magazine. She
couldn’t pretend it had the grandeur of a designer dress but she did think it had
a certain flair to it.

“Do you wear lipstick?” Laura asked.

“Sometimes.” Clara produced a round case from her bag and
showed its crimson contents.

“But not mascara? You should, it would bring out your
eyes. Here, I’ll show you.”

Clara was sat on another chair at the table and Laura
produced a box of black mascara and a fine brush.

“If you think it too expensive to buy, have your cook
make it from Vaseline and coal dust. It works just as well, I have used that in
emergencies.”

Clara consented to having her eyes ‘made up’. She was still
certain there was an ulterior motive to her invitation and perhaps being
co-operative would draw it out. Besides, having her eyes done enabled her to be
silent while Laura chatted away.

“I’ve worn mascara since last year. Daddy thought it
ghastly at first, but he has gotten used to it. Andrew never said anything, I’m
not sure he noticed.”

There was a hesitation that Clara felt certain was
meaningful, even if she was currently looking up at the ceiling to enable Laura
to paint under her eyes.

“Do you have a boyfriend Clara?”

“Not really.”

“It isn’t easy these days, I know a lot of my friends
complain that there are so few young men about. I suppose it was that awful
war. I’m sure several of my friends will never have the chance to get married,
and they know it too. Just look at Peg. She has clearly given up. Still, I
don’t blame her for wanting to dress like a man, they still have it best don’t
they?”

“But you were able to find a man to marry?”

“Oh yes! I mean, when Andrew asked me I just, well,
jumped at it. I might not get another chance and I don’t want to end up an old
maid.”

Clara wondered if this was the key to her sudden summons.

“How long had you been going with Andrew before he
proposed?”

“I hadn’t.” Laura paused, “I had hardly noticed him to be
honest, but then he asked me to marry him, just like that. It was 1919 and he
was looking all dashing in his uniform and I thought, why not? Up till then
everything had seemed so hopeless.”

“Didn’t it worry you that you barely knew him?”

Laura put down the mascara.

“Suppose it did? Just suppose?”

“Well?”

Laura wiped the mascara brush on a tissue.

“What do you think?” She said, referring to the make-up.

Clara examined her reflection. To her surprise she liked
the way the make-up had made her eyes seem bigger and wider.

“Not bad.”

“Add some lipstick and it will be perfect.” Laura was
rearranging the table, “Would you marry a man you hardly knew because you were
desperate not to be alone?”

“No.” Clara was blunt, but she knew Laura was craving her
honesty.

“Not at all?”

“Loneliness does not frighten me as much as the idea of
spending my life with a stranger. Are you having second thoughts Laura?”

“Oh no!” Laura rapidly stood up and walked across the
room, “At least, not big doubts.”

“I think everyone worries about getting married.” Clara
said, “Now you have got to know Andrew, do you like him?”

“Oh Clara I love him!” The out-burst was so impassioned
Clara was in no doubt it was the truth.

“But?”

“What do
you
make of Andrew?”

“I don’t really know him.”

“But you are a detective, Glorianna told me and I was so
excited. To think my husband’s cousin is a female detective! Even Peg was
impressed.”

“That doesn’t mean I can judge a person on sight. You are
the person best set to know Andrew through and through.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t really know him, not like
that. I think he masks so much of himself from me.” Laura sank onto the bed,
“Sometimes I don’t understand him at all. I’m not scared of him, or anything
like that. I just can’t quite get my head around who he is. I think he has
secrets.”

“Most people do.”

“I want to know everything about him, yet he won’t let me
in and some people…” Laura quirked her lips and stared into the distance, “What
was your first impression of him, honestly?”

“Honestly?”

“Absolutely.”

Clara decided this was dangerous territory and tread
carefully. Honesty had a low tolerance threshold.

“I think Andrew is clever, commanding, very much built in
a military mould. A little reserved perhaps, shy of his emotions. I doubt he
tolerates fools graciously, but I saw no reason to consider him cruel about it.
I suspect, like many men who served in the war, he aches inside a lot for a
host of reasons neither of us can truly understand.”

“Yes. Yes, that is Andrew. See? I knew you were clever
enough to understand him all at once!”

Laura clapped her hands together excitedly.

“And do you think he will make a good husband?”

That
really
was dangerous territory.

“Most men do, with a little time. Has someone said
otherwise?”

Laura seemed to sag.

“Susan… Susan seems to think I am rushing in.”

“Andrew’s sister?”

“Yes. She says I have hardly had a chance to know him and
to know if I want to be a wife. She says I am setting myself up for
disappointment. But Susan isn’t me. Susan wants to have a life, a career. She
is good at things like typing and learning facts. I’m not good at anything,
except, well, getting dressed up.” Laura wafted a hand at a heap of clothes,
“I’m sure Susan says it out of my best interests, but it rankles so.”

“I can imagine. Look, this is very much your decision,
only you can say for certain how you feel about Andrew and marriage. If you
want to marry him and are happy to accept all that married life entails, then
no one should try and dissuade you. Susan has her own view on life, but that
doesn’t mean she knows what is right for you.”

Laura perked up.

“You really are a wise bean! Have you considered marriage
Clara?”

Clara had, but she kept those ideas tucked in a dark
corner of her mind, since marriage seemed a far off hope.

“A little. But you know not everyone can get married,
sometimes there isn’t the right person out there for them.”

“Oh, I know, which is why I feel so lucky finding Andrew.
I sometimes wonder if Susan is jealous. She’s never had a young man of her own
and Peg lost hers during the war.”

“Really?”

“Didn’t you know? They were engaged and everything. It
was 1918 I think. That’s when she began dressing like a man.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. So many people lost loved ones
that way.”

“Well, I was very lucky that Andrew came back in one piece.”
Laura picked up a turquoise bangle and lazily spun it round in her hand, “Was
Tommy in the war?”

“Yes, that’s how he lost the use of his legs.”

“That’s a shame. I didn’t get a chance to speak to him,
but he seems nice. Does he like cars?” Laura was suddenly off her bed and
rummaging through a drawer, “Here, I’ve been dying to find the right person for
these. Brooklands has a race meet on Sunday, an informal thing but there will
be lots of drivers racing. Andrew is in it, we are postponing the honeymoon so
he can race! Just think! I consider that very understanding of me.” Laura expected
approval and Clara quickly agreed.

“Oh yes, very understanding.”

“Well, Andrew got these tickets and, golly, if I know who
to ask! But if Tommy would like to go, and you of course, two tickets are
yours.”

“I think Tommy would like that, but we weren’t planning
on staying beyond the wedding, it might inconvenience Glorianna.”

“That’s simply solved! You can move in here after the
wedding, we have tons of room and it will be lovely to have you stay on a
while. The honeymoon isn’t until a week after the wedding, what a bore! And
Andrew will be so busy with this race he’ll hardly notice me, so won’t you keep
me company, please?”

Clara supposed a few more days in the country could not
hurt, it was nice to get away from Brighton and the demands of business. She
accepted the tickets.

“Tell Tommy he must absolutely insist on a ride in
Andrew’s Napier. She is smashing.”

Clara’s mind was taken back to another young man who had
loved fast cars. The dashing Captain O’Harris had never been content on
standing still, or for that matter standing on the ground. His last flight in
the
Buzzard
still haunted her dreams.

“Gosh Laura, look at the time. I’m expected for lunch.
Will you excuse me?”

Clara hastened away from the over-powering sense of
romance and hope that pervaded Laura’s rooms. Suddenly it had become too much.
Those few days in the company of Captain O’Harris had awakened a strange dream
inside her, one she had carefully locked away. Now he was gone and the pain was
still raw. She had not loved him, Clara insisted that to herself. She had been
infatuated maybe, attracted yes, but love takes time. Even so, this wedding was
starting to feel as though it might be a painful exercise for her.