A Killer Ball at Honeychurch Hall (20 page)

“Can we get on?” said Shawn. “I don't want to be here all day.”

“We're waiting for you.” Lavinia sounded exasperated.

Shawn brought out a battered notebook from his trench coat pocket, removed the pencil from the elastic holder and stood there, pencil poised.

Clive crackled the plastic shopping bag expectantly.

“Not yet, Clive.” Shawn turned to Edith. “Your ladyship, I'm sorry but I have to ask,” he began. “Can you account for your movements last night?”

“Do you know how old I am?” Edith snapped. “Where do you think I was? Tripping the light fantastic?”

Shawn duly noted it down. He turned to Lavinia. “Where were
you
last night, m'lady?”

“In bed.”

“And this can be verified?” He looked pointedly at Rupert who suddenly seized the fire tongs and started poking the log in the grate. It flared up so violently that he had to jump back. Sparks fluttered onto the rug, startling poor Cromwell and sending Rupert into a frenzy of ember stamping.

Lavinia gave him a filthy look. “Rupert was out but I was with Harry. He had had a horrid dream about his bear being drowned in a bucket.”

“And what time was that, m'lady?” Shawn continued to scribble.

“Let me see. Harry came into my room around ten-ish. We went downstairs to make some cocoa. I read him a story and that was that.”

“And what story would that be, m'lady?”

Lavinia let out a little gasp. “You're not going to ask Harry, are you?”

“Not if we can't help it,” said Shawn.

Lavinia bristled with indignation. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Should I remind you that in these past few months you seem to have been involved in one case of manslaughter and another of fraud?”

Lavinia's eyes practically bugged out. “But … but that was just frightfully bad luck!” She turned to her husband. “Rupert? Are you just going to stand there whilst I am insulted?”

Rupert continued to stamp out the stray embers, clearly ignoring his wife.

“It was the story about the bear on the
Titanic,
” said Lavinia with a sniff. “I don't recall the title.”

“I think it's
Polar the Titanic Bear,
” I said. “Written by Daisy Corning Stone Spedden.”

Edith sighed with exasperation. “I've already told Harry I'm not selling the Steiff. What is he worrying about?”

“He's worrying about his frightful new school,” said Lavinia. “We should never have sent him to the local primary. Frightful children. Awfully common.”

Mum nudged me and said in a low voice, “I told you not to get involved.”

“And where did you go after putting Harry to bed?” Shawn said, ignoring their exchange.

Lavinia rolled her eyes. “To bed myself and no, I can't prove it. Frankly, I've never even met Bryan Laney. I don't see why I should be here at all. He was well before my time.”

“As I've told you before, Shawn,” Rupert chimed in at last. “We don't leave Harry alone in the house. So if Lavinia says she was here, then she was here.”

Shawn seemed to write copious notes. “And you, m'lord?”

“I already told you. I had a drink at the Hare & Hounds. On my way home, I took the back road—”

“And why would you do that, m'lord?”

“Because I had been drinking,” said Rupert coldly. “I came in through the tradesman's entrance and down the service road. That's when I saw Bryan Laney.”

“Saw Bryan Laney where?” said Shawn.

“I've already told you this,” said Rupert again. “He was lying in the culvert. I thought someone had been fly tipping, dumping their household rubbish and whatnot.”

“And then what happened?” said Shawn.

“I realized he was dead. I called you.”

“You
recognized
him?” Shawn said sharply. “But earlier on, you told me that you'd never seen him before.”

Rupert turned pink. “Well, I had. But that's irrelevant.”

“I don't think so, m'lord.” Shawn cocked his head. “When did you last see Bryan Laney?”

“Months ago,” said Rupert. “Last August. He was trespassing. I gave him a flea in his ear and he went off. I have no idea where he went to or why he suddenly came back.”

“I see.” Shawn studied Rupert's features. Rupert stared defiantly back.

“A man has a right to protect his estate—”

“It's not your estate, Rupert,” Edith chimed in. “It's still mine.”

“Did Bryan tell you
why
he was trespassing?” Shawn demanded.

“Said he was looking for work,” said Rupert. “I didn't think any more of it.”

“I see.” Shawn nodded. “So … you say you saw Bryan
in
the culvert but as everyone here knows,” Shawn made a grand sweeping motion, “the service road passes
over
the culvert.”

“Perhaps his lordship has X-ray vision?” Mum put in.

“I stopped—” Rupert turned pink. “I … I … I had to relieve myself.”

Mum started to snigger.

“You couldn't wait until you got home?” Shawn asked politely.

Mum's sniggers turned into snorts.

“Good God, man,” said Rupert. “Do I really have to go into details?”

“Rupert has a prostate problem,” Lavinia declared. “That's why we have separate bedrooms. Every time he has to use the lavatory, he turns on the light. It's ab-so-lutely infuriating.”

“How unfortunate,” Edith muttered.

Rupert was mortified and just glared at Lavinia, sending my mother into silent convulsions. I could feel her shaking with mirth. To my horror, I fought the urge to giggle, too. It was rather like being in church and knowing you shouldn't laugh, which made it all the more funny.

There was a rustle of plastic and Clive stepped forward with the plastic shopping bag. “I think now is a good time, sir.”

“Not yet, Clive.” Shawn waved him away and started pacing around the room before coming to a stop in front of Rupert. “The problem is, m'lord—according to a witness, you were at the Hare & Hounds for only one hour. Where were you between the hours of seven-thirty and the time you made that phone call?”

“Eric will confirm my story,” said Rupert.

“Me?” Eric looked horrified. “I—I—that is … yes.”

“You don't seem so sure,” said Shawn.

“I'm sure,” he mumbled, not sounding sure at all.

“What's Rupert up to now?” Mum whispered. “I almost feel sorry for Eric. He's always having to cover for him.”

“Gran?” Shawn turned to his grandmother.

“Mr. Cropper and I were at home in bed,” said Mrs. Cropper. “We heard an argument outside.”

“An argument?” Shawn said sharply. “And what time was this?”

“As I told you last night—it woke us up—we go to bed early,” she added helpfully. “But I think it was around eleven.”

“And did you recognize these voices?”

“I'd say it was a man and a woman, wouldn't you, Mr. Cropper?”

I looked over to where Mr. Cropper was propped up in the corner with his eyes closed.

“Take my word for it,” said Mrs. Cropper. “It was a man and a woman.”

“A
man
and a
woman,
” Shawn said slowly as he scanned the room.

Of course I thought of my mother.

Lavinia rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like “pompous.”

“But as I said, dear…” Mrs. Cropper seemed apologetic. “It could have been a fox. They scream something dreadful.”

I'd often heard the unnerving scream of a fox's mating call, too.

Clive stepped forward again and jiggled the plastic shopping bag. “Now, Shawn?”

“Not
yet,
Clive,” said Shawn with a hint of annoyance. Clive looked crestfallen and stepped back to his post.

Shawn started pacing around the room
again.
He stopped in front of Eric. “What about you?”

“I saw Bryan late last night.”

Everyone gasped.

“You didn't mention
that
when we had a drink,
Eric,
” Rupert said pointedly.

Eric hesitated. He fixed his gaze on my mother and said, “The thing is, Shawn, Bryan turned up at my caravan with a black eye. He told me that Iris—I'm sorry, Iris—attacked him.”

Mum stood there, utterly shell-shocked. “And to think I was feeling sorry for you!” she exclaimed.

Eric nodded. “That was the last time I saw Bryan alive.”

 

Chapter Nineteen

“It's a lie!” Mum exclaimed. “Bryan attacked
me
!”

“Attacked you?” everyone chorused in unison.

“The bastard!” Alfred bristled with fury and raised his fists. “Why … if I could only get my hands…”

“I think that ship has sailed, Alfred,” said Edith dryly.

“But why did he come to your caravan again, Eric?” I demanded.

“No idea,” he replied but I noted that Eric refused to look me in the eye. “He was upset. Very upset.”

“Whoa, steady on everyone, please! Quieten down now,” Shawn said above the ensuing pandemonium. “So it's true, Iris, you admit to attacking the deceased?”

“I admit I gave him a black eye,” said Mum.

“I thought you hit him on the chin?” I said.

“Eye, chin—what does it matter?” Mum exclaimed. “But I didn't bludgeon him to death with a tire iron. Anyway he deserved it.”

There was another universal gasp of horror.

“He made a pass at me,” Mum shouted. “Cornered me in the old tack room but I soon made him change his mind. Peggy knows what he's like—or was like, I should say.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Mrs. Cropper said again, and
again
glanced nervously over to Cropper who
again,
seemed not to have heard. “Iris has always been one to tell stories.”

“Excuse me?” Mum gawked. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!”

“You probably encouraged him, anyway,” said Mrs. Cropper childishly. “Seth always said you were a tease, didn't you, Seth?”

Cropper grunted, cleared his throat and muttered something inaudible.

“Don't you dare insult my Iris,” Alfred yelled from the sidelines.

“A leopard never changes its spots,” Mum went on. “And that goes for you, too, Peggy Cropper.”

Lavinia glowered at Rupert. “I couldn't agree more.”

I felt as if I were in the stands at Wimbledon as insult followed insult. Even Edith caught my eye and winked. She seemed to be thoroughly amused. I would have been, too, had it not been my mother in the hot seat.

“But I can assure you,” Mum went on, “thanks to Alfred who taught me how to defend myself, Bryan ran off like the coward he
always
was.”

“And presumably, neither Kat nor Alfred can verify this story because…” Shawn paused dramatically. “Apparently, they were at the cinema.”

“Yes, we were,” Alfred and I chorused.

All eyes swiveled to us.

“And what were you watching at the cinema?” said Shawn.

“Fifty Shades of Grey,”
Alfred declared. “And very enjoyable it was, too.”

“Fifty Shades of Grey!”
squeaked Lavinia.

“Good heavens,” said Edith. “What happened to the sequel?
Fifty Shades Darker
?”

“It's not coming out until 2017, m'lady,” said Mum. “According to the
Daily Post
there were problems finding a director.”

“I do wish you had told me,” said Lavinia, shooting Rupert another mutinous look. “I would have liked to have come.”

“And then what happened?” said Shawn wearily.

“My MINI was stolen,” Mum declared. “Right outside the cinema.”

“With all due respect, if you've stopped talking about Bryan, I have a meeting to go to this morning,” said Rupert.

“On a Sunday?” Lavinia demanded.

“Of course, m'lord. But please, wait for just one minute. Clive?” Shawn snapped his fingers and Clive leapt forward brandishing the plastic shopping bag. His fifteen minutes of fame had finally arrived.

“Oh, I do declare,” said Lavinia, rolling her eyes. “It's time for Shawn's show-and-tell.”

There was a tense silence as Clive passed the plastic shopping bag to Shawn. He opened it and withdrew a small Ziploc bag containing a piece of jewelry.

Mum gasped. “What on earth—oh. Never mind.”

The library fell silent as Shawn began to glide around the room with his Ziploc bag. “We found this necklace caught in the shrubbery next to the culvert.”

Edith, Rupert and Lavinia barely gave the Ziploc bag a passing glance but when Shawn stopped in front of his grandmother, she let out a cry of horror and tore out of the library muttering, “Kitchen!” “Potatoes on stove!” and “Burn!”

“Gran?” said Shawn anxiously.

Cropper hurried after her at quite an astonishing speed for once but before we had time to rally, Shawn was standing before Mum and me, Ziploc bag in hand.

Inside was a gold-plated heart-shaped pendant with a fake diamond in the center. It was tarnished with age.

My heart skipped a beat. “Wasn't
Pandora
wearing something very similar?”

“Well spotted, Katherine,” said Shawn. “She was indeed.”

“How the hell did that end up in the shrubbery?” Alfred exclaimed.

“At last!” Shawn was triumphant. “We're getting somewhere.” He nodded eagerly at Rupert, Edith and Lavinia, who had suddenly grown interested and were all craning forward for a better look.

“Perhaps we can get Katherine to value it?” suggested Lavinia with a sneer.

Alfred laughed. “I think you'll be disappointed. We used to give those necklaces away as prizes—what was the stall, Iris?”