Bricks and Mortality: Campbell & Carter 3 (26 page)

‘Yes,
please
, Gervase!’ urged Petra. ‘Ask for police protection.’

‘If I’ve got police protection no one will be able to come near me and we’ll be no further on,’ he pointed out. ‘OK, I will mention it to Campbell.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Thanks for the tea. I guess you painted all those moggies on the mugs, Petra. Thought of marketing the design commercially?’

Petra shook her head.

‘You should. Well, cheerio, ladies. Sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll be off.’

He walked out. They watched from the window as he went to his rented BMW. He opened the driver’s door and turned to give a wave towards the faces behind the glass. Then he drove away.

‘He’s not going to tell the police about hoping to lure the – the killer – into trying again, is he?’ Petra whispered.

‘Probably not.’ Kit’s voice was bleak.

‘Should we tell her? I mean Inspector Campbell.’

‘I suppose I could give her a call.’

‘Yes, Kit, you must. Please, call her and tell her. If you won’t, I will!’

‘No, you keep out of it, sweetie. I’ll call Campbell and tell them Gervase is still being an out-and-out nuisance and intends to play at being Sherlock Holmes.’

Kit turned from the window and met her sister’s anguished gaze.

‘Oh, Kit,’ said Petra in despair, ‘what is to become of us all?’

‘Someone is downstairs asking to see you, ma’am,’ said Bennison. ‘Katherine Stapleton.’

Jess found Kit pacing up and down with her hands in her pockets. As Kit whirled to face her, Jess thought her visitor looked both truculent and worried.

‘I need to have a word with you,’ Kit said abruptly. ‘I dare say you’re busy, but it shouldn’t take long.’

‘Fair enough. I’ve got time to talk.’

Kit looked restless. ‘Thanks – but do we have to talk here? I’m not making a statement or anything like that. I haven’t come to confess to setting fire to Key House, which I didn’t, by the way. It’s just – personal.’

‘We can talk elsewhere,’ Jess said cheerfully. ‘There’s a café just down the road. The coffee there is better than it is here.’

The café was cramped and steamy but warm. They settled in a corner, with the buzz of chatter from other customers around them, and a large mug of latte apiece.

‘This about Gervase Crown, I suppose?’ Jess prompted Kit, as her companion sat and stared at the coffee with ferocious concentration but showed no sign of starting the ball rolling in the chat she’d requested.

Kit twitched and stopped staring at the coffee. ‘Yes, it’s about Gervase and it’s also about my sister – and I suppose you could say it’s about me. I don’t really know where to start.’

‘The beginning is a good place, as someone or other said – or wrote.’

‘Lewis Carroll,’ said Kit absently. ‘One of the characters in
Alice in Wonderland
says, “Begin at the beginning and go on till you get to the end.” I know what the beginning is. I wish I knew what the end is going to be. In the beginning we were all three kids together. Gervase was away at school a lot but when he came home in the holidays we used to spend time with him. I saw more of him than Petra did, because he and I were of an age. Petra was two years younger. Gervase and I roamed around the countryside. He didn’t like going home. He actually liked being away at school.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘Well, his mother had bunked off and his father was pretty grim. But the atmosphere there was so tense that, even before his mother left, Gervase used to push off out of the house and only went home in the evening. He used to get whoever was employed to do the cooking at the time to make him a sandwich for his lunch. I’d ask my mother to make sandwiches for me. We spent all day out and about. Sometimes Petra tagged along but usually it was just Gervase and me. It was just kids’ stuff, making camps, climbing trees, falling out of trees, swimming in the river. I pushed Gervase into a full drainage ditch once.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t ask me, I forget. We were arguing. I lost my temper and pushed him. I helped him out. He was soaking wet, smelled awful and was furious. I couldn’t stop laughing, horrid brat that I was.’

‘Nervous reaction,’ said Jess firmly.

Kit looked at her in surprise. ‘What was?’

‘The laughter. You pushed him on impulse. You didn’t really mean him to get soaked in ditchwater. You weren’t laughing at him in a horried way. You were probably a bit scared at what you’d done. I’m a twin,’ Jess went on. ‘My brother and I spent a lot of time together and most of it we spent arguing. It didn’t mean we weren’t very close – we still are.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Kit seemed to relax. When she took up her tale again she spoke more easily. ‘Well, we grew up. At least, I did. I went off to college. Gervase, after some backpacking, hung round Key House doing nothing. I don’t know why, as he didn’t get on with his father, he didn’t just leave and get a place of his own. But Gervase has always had his own reasons for his actions. Anyway, he’d got interested in cars. He went out drinking. He smashed up one car in a crash locally. The hoo-hah was all smoothed over and Gervase got another set of fast wheels.’

Kit paused, reddened, and said, ‘Perhaps I ought not to say this, but I have sometimes wondered if Sebastian wasn’t trying to placate his son somehow. I don’t mean make it up to him because he’d had a rotten childhood. I mean that, in some peculiar way, Gervase had a sort of hold over him and enjoyed letting him know it.’

‘If Gervase was his only child, then that would be a powerful hold on him,’ Jess suggested.

‘No, not that … I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just being daft. Anyway, the next smash he had, my sister was in the car with him. I’d overlooked the fact that Petra had grown up too, and, well, I should have warned her about him, told her to stay away from him. He was going through a wild patch and Petra didn’t need to be involved in that. But in the end, she was. They’d been to the same party and he was giving her a lift home. Only they never got home. You’ve seen my sister. That’s how Gervase left her, in a wheelchair. She was not quite eighteen when it happened. I don’t forgive him. I never will.’ Kit picked up her coffee and began to drink it slowly.

Jess waited. At last Kit put down her empty mug.

‘Petra’s forgiven him. Petra was always kind and sweet natured. I was always the unforgiving sort. I was livid when Gervase turned up here the other day, after the fire, and went to see Petra. How could he do that? Anyway, he came to see her again this morning. I was there. He said he was glad to see us both. He wanted to tell us he’d had a threatening letter. He said he’d given it to the police. Is that true?’

Kit paused to look questioningly at Jess. ‘Only, sometimes, you know, Gervase teases. It’s his warped sense of humour and he’s being a pain. I’ve only just found out that the story I told you about the Key House ghost was one of his daft hoaxes. I don’t mean I ever believed there was a ghost, but I did believe there was a legend of a ghost attached to the house. That’s what I told you. Then, the other day when I went to The Royal Oak to see him, he told me he’d made it up.’

Jess smiled at her. ‘It really doesn’t matter about the ghost. I wasn’t including that in our enquiries.’

‘No, of course you weren’t. Whoever bashed that poor young man over the head and left him to die in the fire wasn’t a ghost. It matters to me because it was Gervase fooling me and I always hated that. So I need to know that he’s really had an anonymous letter and it isn’t just Gervase up to his tricks. Before he lets me make a fool of myself to you again.’

Jess said quietly, ‘He has given us an anonymous letter.’

‘So it’s true.’ Kit drew a deep breath. ‘I told him he should go back to Portugal until the police have solved the business of the fire and the dead man. But Gervase intends to stay and loaf around openly. His plan, barmy of course, is that the murderer will be tempted out to try another go at him. Because he does believe the murderer meant to kill him at Key House, but got the wrong man.’

‘Crown was in Portugal when the assailant attacked Matthew Pietrangelo at Key House,’ Jess pointed out. ‘Crown hadn’t lived in Key House for some time. It was more or less abandoned. Why should the killer think it was Gervase at the house that night?’

‘OK, yes, I know! But Gervase still believes the killer thought that he, Gervase, was back in this country and that it was him at the house that evening.’ Kit drew a deep breath. ‘Petra wanted me to tell you that Gervase is asking for trouble. She doesn’t believe he’ll let you know what he’s doing. She wants you to protect him.’

‘How?’ asked Jess calmly.

‘I don’t know! At least, impress on him that he should leave detection to you, the cops.’ She stared at Jess. ‘Will you? Petra’s worried.’

‘And you? You’re worried?’ Jess asked.

‘Yes, I am, because if anything happens to Gervase, Petra will be shattered. She’s made a new life for herself, after he destroyed the life she might have had. If he gives some nutter out there a chance to attack him, even kill him, then what will that do to my sister?’

After Kit had left her, Jess took out her phone and tried the number Gervase Crown had given them for his mobile. But her call was only answered by a recorded voice asking her to leave a message after the bleep. She thought irritably that he was up to his old tricks, dropping out of contact.

‘What’s the matter with the wretched man?’ she muttered. ‘First he calls the police demanding I go immediately to The Royal Oak because he’s ben threatened. Next thing, no one can reach him.’

In her mind’s ear, she caught the echo of Kit Stapleton’s final words on their parting a few minutes earlier.

‘Gervase is playing tethered goat.’

That was OK provided some backup was hiding in the bushes nearby, ready to save him from the tiger. Not so good when the goat and the tiger were left alone to sort it out for themselves. Jess left a message on his voicemail, asking that he call her back. It was hardly satisfactory. If Crown was right about being the target, his behaviour was the height of foolishness. Jess rang The Royal Oak and was told Mr Crown was not in the hotel. That wasn’t a surprise. The Royal Oak wasn’t the sort of place she’d expect Gervase to hang around. So, where might he be? After a moment’s deliberation, she rang Foscott’s Solicitors.

‘I’m trying to get in touch with your client, Mr Crown,’ she told Reggie Foscott. ‘He’s not answering his phone.’

Surprisingly, this turned up the desired information.

‘I understand,’ Foscott’s dry tones said in her ear, ‘that he was having tea with my wife this afternoon. She is his cousin. That will be why he’s switched off his mobile.’

‘Look here, Gerry,’ said Serena, brandishing the sherry bottle at him. ‘All this has got to stop.’

‘I’d be delighted if it would stop, coz,’ Gervase told her. ‘I don’t want a homicidal maniac roaming the land looking for me.’

‘Then go back to Portugal.’

‘You know, everyone seems very keen for me to do that,’ he told her. ‘No, I’m not ready to go back just yet.’

‘Then at least come and stay here with us. It would be a damn sight safer than being at The Royal Oak where, from what you tell me, anyone can roam the corridors pushing threatening notes under doors. Next time it might be a bomb. Have you thought of that?’

‘I’d rather not. But thanks for the offer, Serena. I won’t take it up. It might put you and Reggie and young Charlie in danger.’

Serena topped up the sherry glasses and asked gloomily, ‘Do you want any more cake?’

‘Thank you, no. It was very nice.’

‘I didn’t make it,’ said his cousin honestly. ‘I’m no good at cakes, or pastry, or cookery in general, come to that. I can do a Sunday roast and tonight we’re having lamb hotpot. I’m OK with that. Stay and eat with us, at least.’

‘Will you have enough?’

‘Oh, I should think so. I’ll chuck a few more carrots in it. Reggie doesn’t eat a lot, Charlie picks at her food like a sparrow. Yes, there will be plenty.’

‘Then I’ll stay.’

Serena threw herself back on to the chesterfield and pointed her sherry glass in his direction. ‘You should have sold the ruddy house to Reggie and me when we asked you.’

‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘Although I didn’t think, at the time, that Reggie was all that keen on it.’

‘No, he wasn’t. But I’d have talked him round. Reggie is ultra-cautious about everything. He gets courage up eventually.’

‘Perhaps,’ he told her ruefully, ‘I should have married someone like you, Serena. Someone who’d have chivvied me along, kept me in line, made me achieve something.’

‘Well,’ said his cousin unsympathetically. ‘You screwed up your chance of doing that, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did.’

After a brief silence, Serena heaved a sigh. ‘Well, I’m sorry about all of it. But there’s very little anyone can do, except leave it all to the coppers. The chap Carter who came here seemed reasonably competent and there’s the woman inspector …’

‘Campbell,’ said Gervase.

‘That’s the one. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.’

As she finished speaking the doorbell rang.

‘Now,’ said Serena, hauling herself from the chesterfield. ‘Who’s that at this time of day?’ She peered from the window. ‘Good grief, speak of the devil. It’s Inspector Campbell.’

‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, Mr Crown,’ said Jess. ‘Thank you, Mrs Foscott, it’s a bit early for me to start on the sherry.’

‘Sun’s over the yardarm,’ pointed out Serena.

It was indeed dusk outside the house. Serena had switched on a couple of table lamps that bathed the room in a muted glow and made it appear more orderly. It hid the dilapidated state of the furniture and the dust, thought Jess unkindly.

‘Even so,’ she said. ‘I understand, Mr Crown, that you have expressed an intention of setting yourself up as a target for the killer.’

‘It’s daft,’ said Serena briefly.

‘Your cousin is right,’ Jess informed Gervase. ‘We are talking about someone who has already killed once. Whether or not that killing was premeditated or intentional in any way, a man died. It’s a barrier broken. The killer will now feel there’s nothing to lose. There may even be a redoubled determination to get the right man next time. That means you if, as I understand you believe, you are the target.’