Crowned and Dangerous (A Royal Spyness Mystery) (13 page)

Oona stared at them. “I’ve no idea how they got here, Treadwell. I remember digging them up yesterday but then I suppose I got distracted. Probably had the urge to finish that new painting. So please do take them to the kitchen.”

“Very good, your ladyship. And may I be permitted to say that it’s good to see you, Mr. Darcy, although in such tragic circumstances. Will you please convey my respects to your father and tell him that I am willing to testify to his character, if that would be of help.”

“Very good of you, Treadwell,” Darcy said. “Yes, I will tell him.”

Treadwell gave a little bow and left.

“For heaven’s sake don’t let Treadwell testify in court,” Oona said. “He’s too scrupulously honest. The prosecution would make mincemeat of him and get him to tell about every occasion on which your father lost his temper, starting with his two-year-old tantrums in the nursery.”

“I agree,” Darcy said. “But I rather fear that will all be brought up at the trial, Treadwell or not.”

“Does he have a good lawyer?” Oona asked.

“Only Leach and Leach so far. No barrister has been engaged.”

“You should let Dooley help you,” she said, waving her arms with great enthusiasm.

“Uncle Dooley?”

“Oh yes. He studied law, you know. Even practiced it for a while. He was a second son, you see. Didn’t expect to inherit anything. But he gave a brilliant oration—had a young man sent to prison; but afterward Dooley doubted the man’s guilt. He gave up the profession after that. Said he hadn’t the stomach for the court but didn’t want to sit in a solicitor’s office all day. Then my father gave us Mountjoy when we married, and it came with enough money to live on in those days.”

“What happened to the money?” Darcy asked.

“Well, there were the death duties when Father died. And then when your grandfather died we had to sell off more of the land, and your father was put in bad financial straits. Never recovered, did he? But Dooley’s brain is razor sharp. He may come up with a defense you’ve never even thought of.”

“I thought I heard voices,” said a small voice in the doorway and we turned to see a tiny skinny man standing there. He had a shock of white hair that stood up in all directions and he was wearing a bright red waistcoat and a red bow tie. Like Oona’s his face was unlined and his eyes bright. “Visitors. How lovely. We don’t often get visitors these days. Please tell me they are not Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“It’s our great-nephew Darcy and his friend, Dooley,” Oona boomed. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“How are you, Uncle Dooley?” Darcy said, standing to shake the man’s hand. “This is my friend Georgie, visiting from London.”

The small man blinked and gave us a beaming smile. The vision of Jack Sprat leaped into my mind. Jack Sprat who could eat no fat, and his wife who could eat no lean.

“I’ve been concentrating too long up there,” he said. “But you’ll be pleased to know that Wellington is finally winning the day.”

“Wellington?” Darcy asked.

“Battle of Waterloo, my boy!” Dooley exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

I was beginning to think that Darcy’s description of “quite batty” wasn’t an exaggeration. I also questioned whether I wanted to stay in this crazy household, however much I wanted to be close to Darcy.

“He’s reenacting the battle of Waterloo with his toy soldiers,” Oona said.

“Miniatures, Oona. Not toy soldiers. I’ve built the whole battlefield to scale and painted every one of the regiments in their correct uniforms. I even have tiny cannons that fire ball bearings. You must
come up and see, if you have time. We’ve reached quite a dramatic part of the battle. A turning point. Napoleon thinks he has us, but he’s made a tactical error.”

And he waved a finger triumphantly. Oona reached across and poured coffee into exquisitely thin china cups. I wondered how those cups had survived in this household.

“If you are here for a few days, you’ll be able to see the glorious victory,” he said. “Are you planning to stay for a while?”

“The young lady will, I think,” Oona said.

“Jolly good show!” Dooley beamed at me. “Never say no to a pretty face.”

Oona gave him a warning frown and went on, “Darcy, on the other hand, thinks he needs to be with his father. You must help them, Dooley. You must put the battle of Waterloo aside and use your legal skills to prove Thaddy’s innocence.”

There was a flicker of alarm in Darcy’s eyes. He drained his coffee cup and stood up.

“I should be getting back to my father right away,” he said. “I’m afraid he’ll be pestered by newspaper reporters and he’ll say something stupid and harm his cause even further.”

“He’s at home?” Dooley asked. “Not locked up in a Dublin prison?”

“They released him on bail yesterday,” Darcy said. “We managed to sneak him home without anyone noticing.”

“And why haven’t the police provided a guard for him?” Oona demanded angrily.

“They are guarding the castle grounds, but they don’t seem concerned that he is unprotected and unguarded at the gamekeeper’s lodge. So I’m afraid I have a favor to ask. Do you have a vehicle of some sort that I could borrow? My father’s estate car is locked away in the garage at the castle and everything is potential evidence at the moment. But I may need to go into Dublin to see the police there and I’ll need to come and get Georgie, if she’s to stay here.”

“Well, of course, dear boy,” Dooley said. “There’s no reason he can’t have the Rolls, is there, Oona? We hardly ever use it. I don’t see well enough to drive anymore. Oona never could drive in a straight line. And Treadwell only goes into Kildare once in a while to do some shopping. We have most of what we need here. Quite self-sufficient, aren’t we, Oona?”

“Yes, we are, my dear. Quite self-sufficient. And quite content.”

They nodded to each other while the dogs stood around them, tails wagging. Darcy looked across at me and grinned. It felt wonderful.

M
ONDAY
, D
ECEMBER
3

A
T
M
OUNTJOY
, C
OUNTY
K
ILDARE
, I
RELAND
.

Dooley and Oona both escorted Darcy to the stables where an ancient Rolls was parked. He managed to get it started and waved as it inched forward, avoiding dogs, ducks and chickens.

“I’ve a splendid idea,” Oona said, running up to him and putting a hand on the door handle. “Why don’t you bring your father over to dinner? It’s time we let bygones be bygones. Time for family to stick together. Tell him that. And tell him we’ll have Branson kill a duck.”

“Who’s Branson?”

“One of our farmworkers. We’ve had to dispense with most of the household staff but we still have a couple of chaps working the land for us. They live in rent-free cottages and get their share of the produce so we don’t have to pay them much. And they do the dirty work like killing animals.”

Darcy nodded.

“So you’ll bring your father tonight?”

“I’ll tell him,” Darcy said. “I can’t guarantee that he’ll come.” He turned to me. “I’ll be back later.” I watched the Rolls disappear down the long driveway.

Oona put an arm around my shoulder. “Come on inside, my dear. It’s unpleasantly cold today. Let’s go and see which of the bedrooms might be suitable for visitors.”

“I’ll take her up, if you like,” Uncle Dooley said.

Oona shook her head. “Oh no, Dooley. I’m not having you taking her anywhere near a bedroom. I know your wicked ways.” She looked at me. “You have to watch him, I’m afraid. He’s always been rather a lad where ladies are concerned. Wandering hands and evil intentions.” But she smiled as she said it. “He’s been quite out of practice since the last of the maids left, haven’t you, old thing?”

Dooley grinned sheepishly. “You do exaggerate, Oona. I might pinch the odd bottom, but I’m not exactly dangerous.”

“All the same, I’ll take Miss Georgie’s case up for her. You go back to the Duke of Wellington. On second thoughts, you go to your study and start thinking up a possible defense for your nephew-in-law.”

She picked up the suitcase Darcy had left in the front hall and started up the stairs with it. I followed, picking my way past a basket of knitting, a bowl of withered apples, and the cat, who had now taken up position on the top step. Oona headed straight toward the front of the house and opened the door to a small room over the front porch. It felt horribly cold and damp and was rather spartan with a single bed and small chest of drawers.

“This might be our best bet right now,” she said. “At least I know the mice haven’t got at this bed. But it’s haunted. I hope you don’t mind that. A young female ghost. Tends to yank the covers off the bed of people she doesn’t like. She’s fine with family members.” She looked up at me then. “Or almost family members, I expect.”

Then she laughed at my stricken face. “I didn’t buy that ‘just one of my friends from London’ speech for a minute. Casual friends
don’t trek out to the middle of Ireland to be with a pal. So it’s more than that, isn’t it?” She gave me a long quizzical stare, then added, “I saw how he looked at you.”

“He didn’t want me to come,” I said. “He was afraid the newspapers would pick up on it. In fact he tried to break off with me altogether, because he didn’t want to put me through the unpleasantness.”

“But you showed you are made of sterner stuff. Good for you.” Oona nodded with satisfaction. “I can see he’s chosen the right girl. But why would the newspapers care?”

“Because I’m the king’s cousin,” I said, wincing.

Oona clapped her hands together. “Now I know why you looked familiar. One of the Rannochs. Of course. I was lady-in-waiting to your grandmother for a while before I married Dooley. You have the look of her.”

She had once been described as the least attractive of Queen Victoria’s daughters so I didn’t exactly find this flattering.

“And now I see Darcy’s point,” she said. “It might well have been wiser not to come.”

“But I couldn’t leave Darcy to face this alone, could I? Not when his father is being so beastly and unhelpful.”

“Of course you couldn’t. I would have acted in the same way if it had been Dooley. Leave your suitcase for now. We’ll get Branson to bring up some peat for a fire when he brings in the duck. This room will be warm as toast in no time at all.”

She led me downstairs again, moving with surprising agility for one so large. We ate a good lunch at the kitchen table and by midafternoon my room was indeed warm and toasty. I unpacked my clothes, asking myself what I was doing here and whether I could be any use at all to Darcy. When I went through everything I had heard of the crime I’m afraid I was inclined to believe, as Darcy clearly did, that his father was guilty. The big question was: who else might have wanted Mr. Roach dead, had been able to get into the castle to kill
him and was clever enough to frame Lord Kilhenny? I decided that one thing I could do would be to ask around in the village if they had noticed any strangers. Inhabitants of villages notice anyone who doesn’t belong. Snooping is a major sport in rural locations. I could also ask Barney whether he had driven anybody out to the castle recently, apart from the stream of newspapermen. And then I realized that there had been strangers in the vicinity. That archeological dig, right across the lane from the castle gates. I’d need to find out more about them if it ever stopped raining and they resumed their work. They were in a perfect position to spy on what went on at the castle. But again the question returned—why would anyone want to kill a reclusive American who apparently was devoted to horses and books?

I came up with an answer to that one pretty quickly. He was rich. Rich enough to buy a castle and a racing stable. He had inherited a fortune. He was supposedly the last surviving member of a family. But what if there was another claimant? Someone who would inherit if he was dead? In which case why not kill him in a more subtle manner? A quick bullet from behind a bush would have worked well. Bludgeoning someone to death with a club was bound to attract attention, and if the police discovered that another member of the Roach family was in Ireland, surely that gave someone apart from Darcy’s father a good motive.

This made me feel a little more hopeful. It’s always good to have something positive to work on. I wondered if the detective here had been in touch with the police in America and had checked into Mr. Roach’s family circumstances. That might be something we could suggest to them. Or to Darcy’s father’s lawyer.

The afternoon seemed to drag on. Now that I was here I was itching to do something useful. I sat with a notebook on my knee and jotted down all the thoughts that were going through my mind.
Inherit fortune? Next of kin? Visitors to the castle? Who might have seen? Question valet?
It didn’t seem to be much but at least it would
be a start and I’ve always found that one small clue or fact often leads to another.

We all waited expectantly that evening for the sound of a motorcar. At last it came but only Darcy got out. He ran to the front door, as it was now raining heavily again.

“He wouldn’t come,” Darcy said. “Absolutely refused, whatever I said to him.”

“How annoying,” Oona said. “What a waste of a good duck.”

“Georgie and I are here,” Darcy replied. “I hope you don’t think it’s a waste to feed us.”

“Of course not. But I was hoping . . . Oh, never mind. The man is his own worst enemy. How does he expect help if he rejects every olive branch extended to him?”

“That’s the point,” Darcy said, taking off his wet raincoat. “He doesn’t expect help. He doesn’t want help. He seems to me quite resigned to his fate. He babbled some nonsense about joining his dear Mary.”

“Well, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Oona said. “He must think that that sweet soul is in heaven, so he must expect to be headed in that direction himself. If he’d actually committed murder he would be going to t’other place.”

We went through into a vast dining room. Places had been laid at one end of a long mahogany table that would easily seat thirty. Only that one end had been dusted, and candlelight twinkled on the polished wood. Treadwell came in with a tureen of thick vegetable soup, then served the roast duck, accompanied by roast potatoes and tiny Brussels sprouts.

“Did you actually cook this, Treadwell?” Darcy asked as he was served.

“Lady Whyte does most of the cooking these days,” Treadwell replied. “She has become rather proficient at it.”

“Well, there’s a rare compliment,” Oona commented as the
butler left us. “Usually he lets us know how inferior this household is to his usual standards.”

The meal was rounded off with an apple pie and custard. Then a good cheddar and biscuits.

“I’m sorry we’re down to so few courses these days,” Oona said. “We’re living the life of peasants.”

“It was all quite delicious, Lady Whyte,” I said.

“Please, call me Aunt Oona. Everyone else does.” She gave Darcy a knowing look.

“So what are we going to do about this father of yours?” she asked as we went through to the sitting room and Treadwell brought in coffee and brandy. “Have you had your thinking cap on yet, Dooley? What might be his best line of defense? Insanity? Runs in the family, you know.”

“Oh, not insanity,” Dooley said hastily. “They’ll lock him away for life in a mental institution. We wouldn’t want that for him.”

“I’ve been thinking,” I said. “Two things, actually. Has anyone checked into this man’s inheritance? Might there be other claimants who would get the fortune if and when Mr. Roach died?”

“The Garda must have notified the authorities in Chicago by now,” Darcy said. “His next of kin would have to be told.”

“So they should know if any of them had recently traveled to Ireland, shouldn’t they?”

“Good point,” Oona said. “In my experience money and greed are behind a good many murders.”

Darcy laughed. “And how many murders have you experienced, Aunt Oona?”

“One reads newspapers,” she said haughtily. “But Miss Georgie was going to add a second thought when we interrupted her. One thing she should know about this family is that we never shut up. Go on, Georgie. Tell us what you were going to say.”

“I was told that he was killed by a blow to the back of the head,
and yet the manservant said there had been signs of a struggle. Those two don’t seem compatible, do they?” I looked around at those faces in the candlelight. “If you are struggling with somebody, you can’t very well hit him in the back of the head—even if one of you falls over, it would usually be faceup. A blow to the back of the head to me implies creeping up behind someone and catching him unawares.”

“The girl has a good head on her shoulders,” Oona exclaimed.

Darcy nodded agreement. “That did cross my mind too,” he said, “but unfortunately it wouldn’t exactly help my father to suggest that he’d crept up behind Roach and bashed him to death, rather than struggling with him and maybe killing him accidentally.”

“Yes, I see your point,” Oona said. “If the death was accidental during a struggle, it would be manslaughter, not murder. And if your father’s lawyer could prove that the American instigated the struggle, maybe attacked first, then your father was defending his own life.” She turned to her husband. “You’re awfully quiet, Dooley. What has that sharp little mind of yours been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking about the club,” Dooley said. “So was it really a shillelagh, a walking stick, or a weapon we are talking about here?”

“They said it was one of the weapons that was hanging on the walls,” Darcy replied.

Dooley wagged a finger excitedly. “In that case it was the Burda club. I wondered about that.”

“The Burda club?”

“A rare artifact,” Dooley said. “A Celtic weapon of great antiquity, owned by the O’Mara clan from time immemorial. Did your father never show it to you? It was dug from the bog and miraculously preserved. I wrote all about it in my book on bogs of Ireland. I was surprised to see it hanging carelessly on a wall in Kilhenny Castle rather than being in the museum in Dublin.”

“So it’s a valuable object, is it?” I asked.

“Priceless. Absolutely priceless,” Dooley said. “Do you know
how many wooden artifacts have survived from Celtic times? Almost none.”

“Worth killing for, would you say?” Oona asked.

“If anyone actually knew of its value,” Dooley said. “Not your everyday burglar.”

“But that doesn’t add up, Aunt Oona,” Darcy said. “If you came to steal it, you’d kill and take the club with you, not leave it lying beside the body.”

“That’s true.” Oona sighed. “Dooley always did say I could never think or drive straight. Never mind. We have three good brains here. You’ll figure it out between you.”