A Question of Inheritance (14 page)

He didn’t know that family and visitors parked their cars in the stable yard. Otherwise, he would have known that, since there were no cars there, Lord Selchester was probably not at home.

After trying a door that led into some kind of storeroom, full of old harnesses hanging on hooks, he tried another door, which opened on to a passage. He could smell cooking, and so guessed he was in the right place. His feet made no sound on the stone flags; silence was one of the skills he had learned in the desert. He noted the fuse box on his left with a kind of detached interest. There had been talk in the pub last night about Lord Selchester mending his own fuses; a bit of a comedown for the high and mighty Earl.

Saul had no idea where he was, but found himself in what he realised must be the older part of the castle. It was a high stone chamber, with another passage leading off it, and a couple of arched doorways. There was a telephone there, and above one of the entrances words in Gothic script: ‘
Deo Gratias
.’

He gave this no more than a cursory glance. His eyes were fixed on the portrait that hung over the stone fireplace. Lord Selchester to the life: cold and arrogant and manipulative.

So intent was he that he didn’t at first realise that someone else had come into the hall. He swung round, every nerve taut. It was a youngish man, with a tired, drawn face. Saul had never seen him before. Saul said, looking back at the picture, ‘That man ruined me.’

‘I know who you are,’ the man said unexpectedly. ‘You’re Saul Ingham. You were in the art transport business after the war. Getting all those looted paintings out of Berlin without people asking awkward questions.’

How did this man know about his activities in Berlin after the war?

‘Did you never wonder,’ the man went on, ‘how Lord Selchester found out about what you had done? I’ll tell you, he learned about it from me. My name is Oliver Seynton. It won’t mean anything to you, but back in 1946, when you were making money hand over fist insuring and transporting valuable works of art, I had just started working at Morville’s, the auctioneers. I was in a van owned by your company, taking a painting to a client. A porter came with me. He was resentful of how successful you were, and he told me that, as a private in the army, he had helped you with your despicable trade.’

Saul knew who that porter must have been. Private Wilkinson had been resentful even in 1946. After he had his demob, he came to Saul, asking for a job. Which Saul had given to him, even though he suspected that a fondness for the bottle would make him unreliable. It did. He fired him, but for old times’ sake gave him a reference. An act of kindness that had rebounded on him.

‘Why did you tell him? What was it to you what I had or hadn’t done?’

‘You don’t suppose that you were the only one that Lord Selchester wanted a hold over, do you? He knew something about me, and in return for his keeping quiet about it, I passed on any information that might be relevant from the art world.’

A casual word, without a thought of what might be the repercussions for a man Oliver didn’t even know.

‘I don’t regret telling him,’ Oliver went on. ‘I didn’t then, and I don’t now. Because of you and your kind, you made it possible for a man like Selchester to acquire paintings he had no right to. He didn’t buy them because he loved them or wanted them, but simply because he thought they were a good investment. If he knew those paintings were tainted, he didn’t care.’

‘How do you know they were tainted, as you put it?’

‘German labels on the back of a Monet. A Picasso looted from my family.

The sound of a car, voices: a man and a woman.

‘They’re back,’ Oliver said. ‘You’d better go, or I’ll tell them to call the police.’

Saul hesitated. The last thing he wanted was an encounter with a policeman. With a shrug he headed for the door – but not the one he’d come through. He closed it behind him. Then waited on the other side, listening.

Oliver didn’t leave. Instead, Saul heard the slight ping as he picked up the telephone receiver. Slowly and quietly, Saul lifted the latch and opened the door an inch. Was he calling the police after all? No. He was asking for a London number. There was a brief conversation, and then Oliver left by the other door.

Saul was about to come back into the room when another man came in. He went straight to the telephone and got through to the operator.

Odd, but Saul had little time to think about it as that man, too, left the room. Silence.

But as Saul stepped back into the hall, he saw a thin woman in an apron standing at the other entrance, hands on hips.

Scene 4

Dinah joined them for dinner that Christmas night, but Oliver excused himself, saying he wasn’t feeling well. He did look ill and Gus, kind and concerned, asked if there was anything they could get him.

Oliver shook his head.

Freya was secretly relieved that he wasn’t there; he was behaving strangely and surely the fact that he was obliged to stay at the Castle didn’t account for it.

She was glad to see Dinah. She’d told Gus that Dinah hadn’t been able to go away for Christmas and he at once said she must come to the Castle.

‘Is she on her own?’ he asked. ‘She isn’t married?’

‘She’s a war widow. Her husband, Toby, was a pilot in the RAF. He was shot down and killed during the Battle of Britain. They’d only been married just over a year.’

‘And she never met anyone else?’

‘No one she liked well enough to marry.’

Mrs Partridge had roasted a sirloin of beef. ‘They have turkey for Thanksgiving at Christmas in America so Lady Polly told me. So I thought we’d go for something olde English.’

It was a relaxed, pleasant evening. A leisurely meal, rounded off with Mrs Partridge’s Christmas pudding, complete with silver ornaments. And then they drank port and played games in the library.

‘A perfect Christmas day,’ Georgia said when Hugo came in to say goodnight to her. ‘Thank you for my French horn, it’s a super present. The best one I ever had. I can’t wait to start lessons next term.’

Hugo was relieved and pleased that she’d been so thrilled with the horn. It seemed an unlikely present, but Freya and Mrs Partridge had urged him to talk to the music teacher at her school, who had been encouraging and helpful. He had had no idea that musical instruments were in short supply, like everything else.

‘I’m glad it isn’t a trumpet,’ he’d said when he collected the one she’d managed to acquire for him. Stone walls and a beginner’s brassy hoots wouldn’t make for comfortable listening.

‘She’ll make a good horn player, she’s a musical girl,’ the teacher said, and he was amazed at the sense of pride these words gave him.

Georgia yawned. ‘I’m so sleepy. And there’s still a lot of the holidays left; hooray. Boxing Day tomorrow; let’s hope something exciting happens.’

‘Like what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Something unexpected.’

Chapter Ten

Scene 1

To Sonia’s indignation and Mrs Partridge’s relief, Gus had put his foot down about breakfast in the dining room. ‘It’s too far from the kitchen for the food to be hot and it’s too much trouble for Mrs Partridge. I’ve asked her to serve breakfast in the kitchen. There’s plenty of room for everyone.’

Sonia said, ‘In the kitchen? Oh Lord, how very suburban.’

Freya said, ‘Do shut up, Sonia. As if Mrs Partridge didn’t have enough to do. And I don’t see you volunteering to cook the bacon and eggs and carry it all to the dining room.’

Sonia shrugged. ‘The answer is obvious: get more staff. She’s only got that dim-witted niece helping her.’

‘Pam isn’t dim-witted. And your last-minute decision to spend Christmas here, with two other guests, was bound to put a strain on the arrangements.’

Gus intervened. ‘Mrs Partridge does need more help, and I’ll be seeing to it. But it’s not something that can be fixed up at Christmas.’

So on the morning of Boxing Day, they drifted down one by one for breakfast in the big kitchen. Rupert accepted a plate of eggs, bacon and sausages from Mrs Partridge with a courteous thank you, took his place on the bench and said that it reminded him of school. ‘Except, of course, the food at Eton was never as good as this. Tasty sausages, Mrs Partridge. That’s the advantage of being in farming country, not like in London where we have to scrabble for every mouthful.’

Mrs Partridge set the pan to one side. ‘That’s all of you, except Mr Oliver. Perhaps he’s overslept. Or maybe he’s feeling poorly still, he didn’t look at all well when he came back from his walk yesterday, dreadfully pale he was.’

Sonia said, ‘I expect he’s packing. I know he was hoping that the weather would be better and he’d be able to get away today.’

Mrs Partridge said, with a kind of satisfaction, ‘He won’t. I listened to the weather forecast on the radio on the wireless this morning, and there’s been a hard frost, icy conditions on top of the snow. The announcer said roads are hazardous and there’d be few trains in or out of London today. I was telling Georgia and Lady Polly that there’ll be no chance for them to go and watch the Boxing Day meet set off either, not with the ground as iron hard as it is.’

Hugo folded up the copy of
The Times
he had ruthlessly appropriated when he came down for breakfast and said that he was going out to get some fresh air. Freya rose from the table. ‘I’ll come with you.’

They left through the kitchen door, went out through the stable yard across the other courtyard and into the walled garden. ‘We can get out on to a track through there,’ Hugo said. ‘Hullo, the door to the hothouse is ajar. That can’t be right, letting all the heat out and the frost in.’

‘I expect Gus’s in there, he’s probably looking at the wires again.’

Hugo held the door open for Freya to enter. She took a step inside, sniffing the scent of wet earth and greenery, and called out, ‘Gus?’

Then alarmed, she said, ‘Hugo, there’s someone in here, lying on the ground.’

Two strides and Hugo was beside Freya. He crouched down beside the still figure that lay on the wet earth.

‘Oliver!’ Freya said. ‘He must have fainted.’

Hugo laid his fingers on the side of Oliver’s neck. ‘Dead, and for several hours I’d say.’

Freya knew Hugo was right. She’d known it from the minute she’d seen Oliver’s face. For a moment, horror and panic threatened to overwhelm her, then she fought them off. ‘You stay here; I’ll go and ring for the doctor. Poor man, he must have had a heart attack.’

Hugo was used to men who had met their end in various untimely ways. Six years of the war and his work as an intelligence officer in the field had accustomed him to sudden violent deaths. There was no sign of anything on Oliver’s body. No signs of strangulation, no bruising, no bullet hole, no blood spattered or seeping from a wound.

Freya ran back to the house. As she headed for Grace Hall, she met Leo. He took one look at her face, and said, ‘What’s happened?’

Freya took a quick look around to make sure that there was no one within earshot and said, ‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Gus?’

Freya shook her head. ‘No, it’s Oliver.’

Leo said, ‘Where is he? Does he need help?’

‘No.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘I’m afraid he is. He’s in the hothouse. Hugo’s with him. I’m just going to telephone the doctor.’

‘Do that. I’ll go to the hothouse.’

Scene 2

Dr Rogers had just come back from delivering a baby, and was tucking into a belated breakfast. He pulled a face when the telephone rang. ‘Now what?’

His wife answered the phone, listened for a few moments and then, putting her hand over the receiver, said, ‘Alan, you need to get up to the Castle. Somebody’s died.’

‘Good God, who? Not Lord Selchester, I do hope.’

‘No, no, it’s a Mr Seynton, who’s not one of the family. A guest, Freya Wryton says.’

Dr Rogers took a last mouthful of his breakfast, wiped his mouth with his napkin and got to his feet. He went into the hall, picked up his medical bag and went out into the frosty air. Good thing the car engine was still warm, he’d had a lot of trouble starting it this morning, what with the heavy frost. Although if Freya said this Mr Seynton was dead, then there was no real urgency, a few minutes one way or the other wouldn’t do any harm.

Scene 3

Hugo left Leo with Oliver and went back into the Castle to look for Gus. He found him in the library.

Gus saw from Hugo’s face that something was amiss. He put down the book he was reading and stood up. ‘What is it? Has something happened?’

Hugo told him, and a look of consternation came over Gus’s face. ‘Poor man. I would have said he was the picture of health. He seemed to me an extremely fit young man, unusually so for someone with his kind of occupation.’ Then he said, frowning, ‘What’s the procedure? Who deals with this kind of accident?’

Accident? Hugo sincerely hoped that was what it would turn out to be. He said, ‘Freya’s called the doctor and he’s on his way.’

Gus said, ‘Do you have any idea how he died? I mean there’s no question of someone breaking in, of him being attacked?’

Hugo said, ‘No, no sign of violence.’

‘You haven’t just left him there? Surely—’

‘Leo’s there with him.’

‘Good.’ As they went out of the library, Gus said, ‘What was he doing in the hothouse?

This was a question that had occurred to Hugo, and to Freya, who now joined them.

She said, ‘Did it happen this morning?’

Hugo said, ‘Leo thinks not. He agrees with me that he’s been dead a few hours.’

‘Did anybody see him last night after we’d finished dinner?’ Freya said. ‘He said he was going to his room and I supposed he was intending to go to bed. I have to say, he looked pretty bad.’

Hugo and Gus looked at one another. ‘We were the last up, I think,’ Hugo said. We didn’t see him; I assumed he was in his room, asleep. It was quite late by then. We’d had a game or two of billiards and then talked for a while. It must have been past one when we went up to bed.’

Mrs Partridge, her face alight with ghoulish concern, came to meet them. ‘Dr Rogers is here. He said you’d telephoned him, Miss Freya. Is someone ill?’

‘Mr Seynton’s met with an accident, Mrs Partridge,’ Gus said and then, as if to prove that he was already acquiring English ways, he said, ‘Perhaps you could make some tea.’

Gus shook hands with Dr Rogers and led him out to the hothouse. The doctor looked down at the body and Hugo put down a piece of matting for him to kneel on. Leo’s knees bore the signs of the damp earth and he brushed his trousers down as he watched the doctor making his examination.

Dr Rogers had been looking intently at Oliver’s right hand and now he laid it back on the ground. Then he stood up.

‘Was it his heart?’ Gus said.

‘In a manner of speaking, yes,’ Dr Rogers said. ‘But there was nothing wrong with his heart; I suspect he was electrocuted.’

Leo nodded. ‘I noticed the burn mark on his hand.’

Gus moved towards the switch that was just a foot or so above where Oliver’s body lay. He stretched out a hand, but Hugo said, ‘Don’t touch it.’

Gus jumped back, startled, then he nodded. ‘Yes, how stupid of me.’

‘I’ll go and take the fuse out and make sure there’s no current,’ Hugo said.

He was back in a few minutes. ‘All off, that should be all right now.’

Gus looked intently at the switch. He produced a small screwdriver from his pocket and unscrewed the casing. He peered at the inside and then stood back frowning. ‘Someone has tampered with this. The earth and live wires have been wired wrongly.’

Dr Rogers said, ‘So that old metal casing would have been live?’

‘Yes,’ Gus said. ‘It would have been.’

‘And if Oliver had been standing on wet earth with leather shoes and touched it, he would have received a considerable shock,’ Hugo said.

The doctor nodded. ‘Yes. It’s a very short distance from the hand to the heart and I think that’s what killed him. Have you had any wiring work done recently? It looks as though someone has been criminally careless.’

Gus said, ‘I was in here yesterday afternoon. I checked the wiring in the switch and socket and I assure you it was correctly wired. Perfectly safe. And no, even though I am an American, I am familiar with English electrical wiring and I would never have connected the earth instead of the live wire. I made sure everything was working, and I was coming back this morning to check the circuit.’

‘In which case you’ve had a lucky escape, Lord Selchester. Because I dare say you would have reached out for that switch without a second thought. You would have been lying here, not Mr Seynton.’ He was looking grim. ‘You are sure the wires were correctly connected?’

‘I am quite sure.’

‘Then I am afraid this is a matter for the police. If I can use the telephone, I will ring the police station.’

Scene 4

Hugo felt a sense of déjà vu as the police car drove up to the entrance and came to a smooth halt in front of the house.

Superintendent MacLeod got out, followed by a young constable. Gus came forward, and before he could say anything the Superintendent said, ‘You’ll be Lord Selchester. You’ve a strong likeness to his late lordship. I’m pleased to meet you, my lord. I am Superintendent MacLeod. This is a distressing thing to happen, particularly at Christmas.’

Last time Superintendent MacLeod had come to investigate a body at the castle, the circumstances had been quite different. For one thing the body had been a skeleton and for another, it had lain under the flagstones for several years. There had been no urgency and little of the paraphernalia of a current murder investigation.

The Superintendent asked everyone to leave the hothouse except for Dr Rogers. Watching from the outside Hugo could see the two men in earnest conversation.

Leo said, ‘Hugo, was the fuse in place?’

‘Yes.’

‘It hadn’t blown?’

‘No. I’d have noticed if it had been, when I removed it.’

Gus was looking at Leo with keen interest. ‘I know what you’re getting at. Why didn’t the fuse blow when the poor guy touched the switch?’

Scene 5

Mrs Partridge had gone into Selchester; to get a few things, she said. In fact, as Freya knew perfectly well, she had gone to spread the news.

Freya was drying the last of the plates when the door opened and there was Dinah. She had a parcel wrapped in brown paper under one arm. Hugo, who had been doing
The Times
crossword puzzle, looked up and said, ‘Good morning, Dinah.’

Dinah said, ‘Is it true? Somebody’s died?’

Freya turned round and said, ‘Yes. There’s been a fatal accident.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, murder.

Dinah caught her lip. ‘The town is full of rumours. It isn’t Gus, is it?’

‘Thankfully, not. He’s fine. Just as well, two Earls being hustled into the next world in the Castle would really be a bit much. No, it’s Oliver, a friend of Sonia’s who’d come to advise Gus on the pictures.’

Dinah said, ‘I didn’t see him at dinner last night.’

‘He wasn’t feeling well and kept to his room,’ Freya said. ‘I can’t think why none of us mentioned him. It was awkward having him here because he wasn’t invited for Christmas; he was supposed to go back to London on Christmas Eve. He was marooned here because of the snow.’

More footsteps. Heavy, official footsteps. Policeman’s footsteps.

The door opened and there stood the burly figure of Superintendent MacLeod. ‘Good morning, Miss Wryton. I’m looking for Mrs Partridge.’

Freya said, ‘I’m afraid she isn’t here. She went into Selchester.’

The Superintendent’s eyebrows rose. ‘I dare say she did. Eager to spread the news around, although it’ll have been all over the town before we had the car brought round.’ He gave Dinah a severe look ‘Miss Lindsey. May I ask what you’re doing here?’

‘I have a book for Father Leo Hawksworth.’

‘And it was so urgent you felt a need to deliver it, in person, on Boxing Day?’

‘I wanted a walk and I thought I’d come in this direction.’

The Superintendent regarded her thoughtfully. ‘It wasn’t that you’d heard that there been a death and came up to see what was going on?’

Dinah said with dignity, ‘Miss Wryton just told me that a guest met with a fatal accident. I’m appalled, naturally. It’s an inappropriate time for me to be here, so I’ll take myself off.’

‘We’re here to investigate a suspicious death,’ the Superintendent said, ‘Hold on for just a minute, if you don’t mind.’ He produced his notebook, opened it and flipped to a page. He looked at it with pursed lips. ‘You were one of the guests at the castle on Christmas night?’

Dinah said, ‘I was.’

The Superintendent said, ‘The deceased is one Oliver Seynton. A guest here at the Castle, but not present at dinner on that evening. Do you know him?’

There was just tiniest pause, before Dinah said lightly, ‘Oliver Seynton? No.’

‘Did you know he was staying at the Castle?’

Dinah shook her head.

Freya saw that Hugo was regarding Dinah intently, a slight frown on his face.