A Family Concern (24 page)

‘Couldn't you just say you found them?'

‘In my room? What are they doing here, anyway?'

‘I thought they wouldn't be missed for a while, but when that notice went on the board, I panicked. I'd taken them home, like, but I brought them back, meaning to sneak them up to the rooms again. But before I could, the police came to question us. I had to get rid of them quickly, so I—'

‘Hid them here.'

He nodded miserably. ‘I know it was stupid, but it seemed the only place.' He paused. ‘You're going to turn me in, aren't you?'

‘I'll tell my parents, yes, but it's out of their hands now. As you say, the police are involved, and until the culprit's named, everyone's under suspicion.'

‘I didn't know they were so valuable,' Ted muttered.

‘Stealing is stealing, whatever the object's worth.'

He nodded again, and, avoiding Gerald's eyes, turned and left the room. Gerald bent to retrieve the fountain pen from under his desk. It was a Mont Blanc – one of the world's most expensive. No wonder the owner had reported its loss.

The man was sure to be sacked, he reflected, and with Christmas coming up, too. But honesty was essential in hotel work, and they'd never be able to trust him again. Still, that was one thing, thank God, that was
not
his problem. Abandoning his intention of a word with his sous-chef, Gerald pushed open the door leading to the main part of the hotel.

I
t was late afternoon when the call came, and Rona, having finished work for the day, was making a cup of tea.

‘Rona?'

For a moment, she didn't recognize the voice, but she was given no time to wonder.

‘It's Kate. The most appalling thing has happened. Oh, God!' She broke off with a choked sob and Rona, suddenly alarmed, sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

‘What is it, Kate?'

‘I wish to God I'd never started this!' Kate was going on hysterically. ‘Damn it, the dreams would have stopped in their own good time. They did before.'

‘Kate, what's happened? What are you talking about?'

‘The well,' Kate said in a whisper. ‘The bloody well.' She drew a long, shuddering breath, and in the silence the kettle started whistling shrilly. Rona, who'd nearly leapt out of her skin, hurried to turn it off.

‘Sorry,' she said into the phone. ‘Go on.'

‘After you'd left yesterday, Lewis decided to take a look at it. He'd been mulling over what we'd said about it earlier, and that
if
Freya had seen a lovers' tiff, it would have to have been a violent one, for her to remember it. So finally, to satisfy him, back we went, armed with a powerful torch and tools to prise off the cover.'

Her voice began to shake again. ‘God, Rona, it was like a nightmare. Because when we got the top off and – peered down, even in the light of the torch we could see something at the bottom.'

Rona said in a croak, ‘Some
thing
or some
one
?'

Kate didn't answer. ‘We hurried back to the house and phoned Robert, and he got in touch with Bruce and Jan, and we all went down. The well's not very deep – about fifteen feet, I should say, and of course it's been dry for decades.'

‘What
was
it, Kate?'

She gave a kind of sob. ‘We couldn't tell. So we phoned the police, and they said they'd be round first thing in the morning. It was dark by then, and they must have thought, since there was obviously no urgency, that they could work better in daylight.'

‘And this morning,' Rona said clearly, ‘they found a body.'

‘A skeleton,' Kate corrected, ‘with shreds of material clinging to it, and lying on top of it – oh, God! – was a mouldy, decaying suitcase.' She paused. ‘You know what's coming, don't you?'

Rona nodded, realized Kate couldn't see her, and said in a whisper, ‘Velma.'

‘Almost certainly. And now,' Kate went on wildly, ‘they've taken Robert away for questioning! Everyone's in a total state of shock. Oh Rona, what have we done?'

Rona said shakily, ‘So Freya, up in the tree house …'

‘I know. It doesn't bear thinking about, does it? And to add to everything, they've taken a blood sample from her, to compare the DNA.'

‘Kate—' Rona broke off, cleared her throat and tried again. ‘You do realize that if the dream progresses any further, she might see who it was?'

‘I almost forgot – that's why I'm phoning. Lewis says we mustn't mention the dreams to
anyone
. If the killer's still around, and finds out about them, she could be in serious danger.'

‘But he
can't
still be around, can he? Not after all this time? Surely it was her lover, whoever he was; they had a row, he killed her, threw her in the well, and then fled. After all, he disappeared at the same time.' So Gavin had told her.

Another thought struck her. ‘If Freya's had to give a sample, does that mean she knows everything now? About being lost in the woods, I mean?'

‘Yes; we couldn't keep it from her.'

‘How is she?'

‘Shocked, to find the dreams were based on memories, and terrified to go to sleep, in case she sees the murderer's face.' Kate paused. ‘Though in fact,' she went on thoughtfully, ‘the dreams were all about
sounds
, weren't they? Whistling, shouting, sobbing. She's never mentioned
seeing
anyone, or even the possibility of a woman being there.'

‘Perhaps it was blotted out at some deeper level.'

‘Perhaps. Still, to be on the safe side, don't tell anyone about them, will you?' Her voice sharpened. ‘Or have you already?'

Oh God, Rona thought, yes, she had. Max, of course, and Magda, who'd probably passed it on to Gavin, and Nanny Gray …

‘I might have just—'

‘It's sure to ring a bell, when the story breaks. You must get on to them straight away, and tell them to keep quiet.
Promise
me you'll do that?'

‘I promise,' Rona said aridly. Then, ‘You'll be carrying on as normal, though? At the shop?'

‘We've no option; if we don't, people will assume we've something to hide. It won't be easy, though; as soon as it gets into the press, they'll start to talk. In fact, it's probably already in this evening's paper, and we've had the first of the nationals round. We can only be thankful this blew up on a Monday, when at least the shop was closed and we could deal with it.'

‘Was it definitely murder? She didn't commit suicide, or fall down the well accidentally?'

‘There doesn't seem much doubt, but they need the forensic evidence to be sure. If there's any left to find.'

‘It depends how she died. Blows on the head might show on the skull, and a stab wound could have nicked a bone—' Realizing what she was saying, she broke off, horrified, but Kate gave a choked laugh.

‘I was forgetting you'd had several brushes with murder.'

‘Kate, I'm really terribly sorry about all this. If I hadn't asked to see the woods—'

‘Forget it. It was my fault, for involving you. I bet you wish to God I hadn't.'

As soon as she rang off, Rona called Max and told him the news.

‘So you've flushed out another murderer,' he observed. ‘I don't know how you do it.'

‘Max! That's an awful thing to say! And I haven't, anyway. They're interviewing Robert Tarlton, who's obviously not guilty.'

‘And exactly what basis have you for that opinion? His wife had been unfaithful for years, according to Gavin. Perhaps, when he found out she was leaving him, it was the last straw.'

Rona felt suddenly cold. That, no doubt, was the way the police were thinking. Were they right?

‘The reason I'm ringing,' she went on after a minute, ‘is to ask you to keep quiet about Freya's dreams.'

‘Dreams?' he repeated blankly. ‘What the hell are you talking about?'

Belatedly, she realized that although they had loomed large in her own thoughts, and Kate's, she'd barely mentioned the dreams to Max, who appeared already to have forgotten them.

‘The girl who fainted. She – but if you don't remember, fine. Just don't mention her having nightmares.'

‘I'm hardly likely to, am I? Now look, Rona, I want you to keep away from that family. The police will have to release Tarlton, on bail if nothing else, and if he thinks you're poking your nose in, he might well decide to stop you.'

‘All right,' she said meekly. It was no use arguing with him, and she had, after all, done what had been asked of her: she'd found the cause of Freya's dreams.

‘I have to go now, love. I'll phone later, as usual.'

Magda, to whom Rona had spoken about the Tarltons more recently and in considerably more detail, was consequently more shocked by her call.

‘How awful for you!' she exclaimed. ‘And that poor girl! Did she actually see her mother being killed?'

‘It seems likely,' Rona said. ‘But the point is the dreams, Maggie. If the killer—'

‘My God, of course! She could be in real danger.'

‘So the reason I'm ringing, apart from giving you advance notice of what's happened, is to ask you not to mention the dreams to
anyone
.'

‘Of course I won't.'

‘Did you tell Gavin about them?'

‘I mentioned the gist of it, after you'd gone, but I'm not sure he was paying much attention. He was watching a sports programme.'

‘Well, could you impress on him not to say anything, either? It really could be vital.'

‘Don't worry about Gavin; I'll see he keeps quiet.'

Which left only Nanny. Rona lifted the phone again, then thoughtfully replaced it. For Violet Gray, the news would have considerable personal impact, and she was an old lady. There was no way Rona could break it to her over the phone, and the family would be too distraught to think of contacting her. There was no help for it; she'd have to go back to Stapleton House, and this evening, at that – hopefully before word of the day's discovery reached the residents.

She stood up. It was now almost six o'clock, and Chesham was a forty-minute drive away. She could only hope she'd make it in time. At worst, she could fill in details the media wouldn't have.

It seemed a longer than usual drive in the dark, and Rona was grateful for Gus's comforting bulk on the back seat. Out in the country, the roads were rimed with frost, and wreaths of mist shrouded the tops of the trees. It was a relief to see the lights of Chesham. Five minutes later, she was at the reception desk, asking for Miss Gray.

The woman who had answered the bell – Sylvia Marsh, according to her badge – looked at her reprovingly. ‘We do ask visitors to try to avoid meal times,' she said.

‘I'm so sorry; I realize it's inconvenient, but I have some news that I know Miss Gray will want to hear as soon as possible.'

The woman frowned. ‘Is it likely to upset her?'

‘It might well,' Rona admitted. ‘But there's no way she can be spared from it.'

‘I ask, because she's been feeling tired today, and in fact spent it in bed. Oh, she's not ill,' she added, seeing Rona's concern. ‘She does have rest days from time to time, and spends them reading or knitting or listening to the radio.'

Rona could only hope she'd not listened to the radio this evening. She was led down the familiar corridor, and her guide paused to say, ‘If she becomes distressed, you will ring the bell, won't you? It's hanging over her bed.'

They reached the door just as a woman came out bearing Miss Gray's supper tray. She smiled and stood aside for Rona to enter, and Sylvia Marsh, with a last worried glance towards the bed, nodded and turned away.

Miss Gray was propped up against a mound of pillows, a pale blue bed jacket fastened at her throat. A book, presumably discarded at the arrival of her meal, lay face down on the coverlet. It was a Mills & Boon romance.

The old lady was looking at her in surprise. ‘I'm not due for my medication, dear,' she said. ‘I've only just finished supper.'

‘Yes, I know. I'm Rona Parish, Miss Gray. Do you remember, I came to see you last week, about Freya Tarlton?'

‘Of course I remember,' the old lady said crossly. ‘You were in the shadows, that's all; I couldn't see your face. What is it this time?'

She gestured at the chair beside the bed, and Rona obediently sat down.

‘There have been some developments,' she began cautiously, and saw the veined hands tighten.

‘Concerning Freya?'

‘Indirectly. Miss Gray, there's no easy way to say this. Some – remains have been found. In the well in the woods.'

‘Remains?' Miss Gray repeated sharply. ‘A body, you mean?'

‘Yes. The police believe it's that of Velma Tarlton.'

The old lady stared at her, her mouth working. ‘Mrs Robert?'

‘Yes.' Rona paused, and added, ‘I'm so sorry.'

‘So she didn't go off after all?'

‘No, though I think she intended to. A – suitcase was also found.'

‘And there I was, slating the poor lady for abandoning her family, and all the while …'

‘I think she meant to go,' Rona repeated, hoping to lessen her guilt.

‘Then who stopped her? That's the question, isn't it?'

Rona nodded.

‘How's Mr Robert taking this?'

Rona fell back on a cliché. ‘He's been – helping the police with their enquiries.'

Miss Gray was not deceived. ‘They never think
he
did it?' Her voice rose indignantly. ‘Stuff and nonsense! He wouldn't have harmed a hair of her head.'

‘It seems likely whoever she was going away with changed his mind,' Rona said quickly.

‘You can change your mind without killing someone.' Then, as Rona had fearfully known they must, her thoughts turned to her charge.