Authors: Rhys Bowen
Evans to Betsy (14 page)
“Only what, Betsy?”
“Only he wasn’t there when I went for my first session alone with him. He’d said four o’clock right enough, but he wasn’t there. Well, sir, I was a little upset because I’d been looking forward to it. I just went home and I didn’t think no more about it. But when I got to work in the morning, I found the whole place in a tizzy. It seems nobody had seen Mr. Wunderlich since I’d taken him his coffee after lunch the day before.”
“So you took him his coffee, did you?” Hughes scribbled in his notebook. “And what did you think of Mr. Wunderlich, Betsy.”
“If you’ll pardon the expression, sir, I thought he was ever so sexy. Like a film star, just.”
“Did any flirting go on between you and Mr. Wunderlich? Did he come on to you at all?”
“Oh, no, sir. He’s a married man, sir. And anyway, Emmy was in the room with us, helping with the testing.”
“So you liked him, did you?”
“I didn’t know him well enough to like him, sir. He was nice enough to me when we met—and he did give me a job at the center so that I could be there when I was needed. That was kind of him.”
“So let’s move on to the dream,” Hughes said. “Tell us about this dream you had, Betsy.”
“The dream, sir? Well, it was like this—I went to bed that night and suddenly I dreamed I was standing outside this cave. I went in and it was all dark and it smelled wet and seaweedy, if you know what I mean. I could see something white lying there at the back of the cave. As I got closer, I saw it was Randy. I thought he was asleep and I went to touch him, but then I woke up. I ran to find Emmy and she said, ‘You’ve had a pyschic dream, Betsy. We’ll have to go and wake Constable Evans and get straight down to the Sacred Grove.’ Betsy glanced up at Evan for confirmation. “It was about four in the morning, wasn’t it, Evan?”
Evan nodded.
“When we got to the center, Lady Annabel said she knew where there were caves on the property, so Michael led us down to the beach and we found Randy’s body in the cave, just like I’d dreamed it. It was horrible, sir.”
“I’m sure it was, Betsy,” the chief inspector said. “Tell me, do you often have dreams like this?”
“Oh, no, sir. This was the first one. Leastways, it was the first one I knew about. Maybe I’d been dreaming about things that had really happened before, but I never realized it until Emmy told me about my powers. I’ve always had vivid dreams, sir. But I thought they were just dreams … .”
“Look, why don’t you go and get yourself a cup of tea and wait for us in the foyer,” Chief Inspector Hughes said. “I have to talk to a lot of people and then Constable Evans can take you home again.”
“Thank you, sir,” Betsy said. “Glad to have been of help.”
“Well, what do you think?” Hughes looked up at Evan.
“About what?” Evan asked.
“Did she do it?”
Evan stared at Chief Inspector Hughes. “Kill Randy Wunderlich, you mean?”“It wouldn’t be the first time that a murderer has claimed to have dreamed where the body could be found—and she admits bringing him the cup of coffee, which could easily have contained the sleeping draught.” The chief inspector was looking rather pleased with himself, Evan thought.
“With all respect, sir. That’s bloody stupid,” Evan said. “I’ve known Betsy for a couple of years now. Not the brightest girl in the world, a bit naive, easily impressed, but …”
“She could have been working with someone else then. ‘Easily impressed,’ you say. Maybe someone else put her up to it.”
“I can’t think who,” Evan said. “She only met these people a few days ago. And I said she wasn’t the brightest girl in the world, but she’s not stupid either. She’s got enough common sense not to go poisoning someone or claiming she’d had a dream. I saw her that night—she was shaking with fright. It wasn’t put on.”
“I don’t believe in powers myself, Constable. If you say Randy Wunderlich didn’t kill himself, then someone had a good reason for wanting him dead. Let’s see which of them, shall we?” He glanced at his list. “I think we should start with Lady Annabel. Always look nearest to home when it comes to murder—that’s my
number-one rule. Ten to one the spouse or next of kin did it! Tell Lady Annabel I’m ready to see her now.” He raised his hand in an imperious gesture that somehow looked right as it came from Lady Annabel’s chair.
number-one rule. Ten to one the spouse or next of kin did it! Tell Lady Annabel I’m ready to see her now.” He raised his hand in an imperious gesture that somehow looked right as it came from Lady Annabel’s chair.
Evan was tempted to bow. “I’ll tell her, sir,” he said.
Lady Annabel had dressed for the occasion. No warm-up suits today. She was wearing an expensive navy dress with a Hermes scarf at her throat and a large diamond on her finger. Her hair was lacquered into a perfect twist and her face was a serene mask of makeup. Even Hughes was a little taken aback as she swept in. He got to his feet. “Of course, you must have this chair, Lady Annabel.”
“Thank you.” She took it without protest. Hughes perched himself on the wooden upright.
“Now just a few questions about your husband’s death, if you don’t mind.”
“Must we? This has been very painful for me, as I’m sure you understand, Inspector. All I want is his body returned to me for burial, and to be left alone in my grief.”
“We’ll do all we can to return the remains to you, Lady Annabel, but I’m afraid your husband’s death can no longer be ruled accidental.”
A little gasp came from Lady Annabel and she put her hand to her throat in a dramatic gesture. “Are you saying that somebody killed him?”
“Or that he killed himself.”
“Oh, no. Not Randy. Randy loved life. He had so much to live for. He’d never, ever kill himself.”
“Then the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better,” Hughes said. “With your cooperation, Lady Annabel?”
“But of course. What would you like to know?”
“Your name is Lady Annabel Bland-Tyghe? Is that correct?”
“Actually my name is Mrs. Randal Wunderlich,” she said. “People around here have known me as Lady Annabel all my life, so I decided to keep it. Randy thought it created the right image for the place.”
“And how long had you been married?”
Her face creased in pain. “Not even a year. We were married last summer, in Las Vegas.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so—” Hughes cleared his throat “—you seem a very unlikely couple. How did you meet?”
“Randy saved my life,” she said simply.
“He did? How?”
“I went through a stage of intense depression. My father had died and I didn’t know how I was going to be able to pay the death taxes to keep the property that I loved so much. I was just drifting. I didn’t know what I was going to do next. I was visiting friends on the East Coast and my friend Dodie had become a real disciple of the New Age. She told me about this marvelous psychic hot line. So I called and Randy was wonderful. He told me so many things about myself and when he heard all my troubles—about trying to hang onto the property—he was so positive and supportive. I called him again and again and one thing led to another. He flew across from California to meet me and it was incredible. He told me his vision for a center he wanted to build—a place that would encompass healing and spirituality and psychic gifts. And when he described it—you won’t believe this—it was my property he was talking about!”
Her face had become alight with joy. “When I showed him pictures, he was as flabbergasted as I was. It seemed as if we were meant to be together, didn’t it? So we flew to Las Vegas, got married, and came here to put Randy’s vision into action.”
“When did you say that was? Last summer?” Hughes asked.
Lady Annabel nodded. “Our timing was poor, unfortunately. We had wanted to have the place up and running for the summer holidays, but by the time everything was in place, it was already mid-September—too late to attract many guests. We’ve had a pretty grim winter, actually. It’s not inexpensive to operate a place of this scale. But we were so hopeful for this summer season. Bookings were coming in. We were starting to get some publicity. Everything would have been wonderful.” She pressed her lips together and composed herself. “Now I don’t know anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Hughes said. “Do you think you’ll have to close the place?”
“Not if I can help it,” Annabel said. “It was Randy’s dream. I can’t let his dream die, can I? I’m going to soldier on, I suppose. I come from a long line of fighters.”
She gave him a brave smile.
“If I could just ask you a couple of questions about Mr. Wunderlich’s death, Lady Annabel.”
She nodded.
“You say that things weren’t going well. You were experiencing financial difficulties. And yet you don’t for a moment consider that your husband’s death might have been suicide?”
Annabel shook her head violently. “I’m sure of it, Chief Inspector. Randy was the eternal optimist. He was actually very excited this past week. He told me that good things were just about to happen. He saw the Sacred Grove as the center of lots of publicity and the bookings rolling in. He was a well-known psychic, you know.”
Evan thought of the man he had seen coming up from the beach. He had certainly looked like someone who was relaxed and confident—rather full of himself, in fact.
The chief inspector cleared his throat. “Which brings us to the next question, Lady Annabel. Can you think of anyone who wanted your husband out of the way?”
“Nobody—everyone adored him. He was a likable man.”
“So you’ve no idea of who might have slipped him a powerful drug and left him to drown?”
Annabel looked horrified. “Is that what they did? Monstrous, absolutely monstrous. You have to catch him, Inspector.”
“You sound sure that your husband’s killer was a man.”
“Well, yes. It never occurred to me that it could be a woman, but …”
Evan was watching her closely. Something had crossed Lady Annabel’s mind, “But surely a woman couldn’t have got Randy into that cave? Over all those boulders?”
There was a tap on the door and the middle-aged man Evan only knew as Ben came in. “I don’t think it’s right that Annabel should be questioned alone, in her delicate mental state,” he said. “She’s not herself at the moment, Inspector.”
“It’s chief inspector, sir,” Hughes said, “and who might you be?”
“I’m Benedict Cresswell, Annabel’s good friend and financial adviser.”
“Do you live here too, sir?”
“No, I was just down for a few days to discuss financial matters, then this happened, so I stayed on because Annabel needed me.”
“So you were here when the—tragedy—happened?”
“Oh, indeed, yes. Poor dear Annabel. I’ve never seen anyone so stricken with grief before.”
Hughes got to his feet. “That will be all for now, Lady Annabel. Thank you. If you could notify your entire staff that I’d like to speak to them all later this morning. Can you have them assembled, say, at eleven-thirty?”
“If you wish,” Annabel said, “although I really can’t think that any of my staff …” She left the sentence unfinished and went out. Ben Cresswell went to follow, but Hughes held up his hand.
“A few questions first, sir, if you don’t mind. Seeing that you were here on the night of the tragedy.” He motioned to the upright chair as he walked around to resume sitting at Lady Annabel’s desk. “Now, sir. You say that you are Lady Annabel’s friend.”
“Old and dear friend, yes. We used to play together as children. Our mothers were friends from finishing school days.”
Evan had a chance to study the man for the first time. His was a formerly handsome face that, like Lady Annabel’s, had gone to seed. There were bags under his eyes and too many chins, while the red nose indicated either a life of fox hunting or too many whiskies. He was wearing an Aran sweater one size too small for him. The sort of man who would call people like Evan “my dear chap”—or even “chappie.” Probably ex-army.
“And you are now her financial adviser?”
“That’s right. Went into the City right after my army days. I took over the affairs of this estate when the old man started going—
how shall I put it—rather peculiar. Of course, he was always eccentric, but what old family doesn’t have an eccentric now and then? What a boring old world it would be if everyone was sane and sensible, what?”
how shall I put it—rather peculiar. Of course, he was always eccentric, but what old family doesn’t have an eccentric now and then? What a boring old world it would be if everyone was sane and sensible, what?”
Hughes, who had never been anything other than sane and sensible, coughed in reply.
“And then the old Lord Bland-Tyghe died?” he asked.
“Actually he was Sir Ambrose. Knight. Not lord. Slight difference.”
Evan noticed Hughes bristle at the condescension.
“Sir Ambrose then. Lady Annabel inherited on his death?”
“Yes. She was the only surviving Bland-Tyghe. That was two years ago now. The property is so huge that the death taxes were horrendous, as you can imagine. Annabel begged me to come up with a way to keep her property. But I had no idea she’d get this crazy notion of turning it into a New Age center.”
He leaned forward in his seat. “Between you and me, Chief Inspector, Annabel has always been very gullible. One day she was going to be an actress, the next she was going to fly out to Calcutta and help Mother Teresa. They were all passing whims. This would have passed too if that dreadful man hadn’t latched onto her.”
“Mr. Wunderlich, you mean?”
“Of course. When Annabel poured out all her troubles on that wretched psychic hot line, he realized he was on to a good thing.”
“You think he only married her for the property?”
“Of course. Why else? Young, fit men don’t often go for chubby middle-aged women, do they? The other way around, I admit, but …”
“I take it you didn’t approve.”
“It was a disaster. The man had big ideas but no capital to back them up. I warned them to get the enterprise up and running first and then put in amenities with the profits, but he wouldn’t wait. He wanted the spa and the meditation center and the gourmet kitchen all at once. It has drained the very last of Annabel’s inheritance, I can tell you that, Chief Inspector.”
“Didn’t Lady Annabel try to stop him?”
“She wouldn’t listen to me. She was still at the infatuation stage. Everything Randy did was wonderful. It would only have lasted another month or two and then she would have tired of him anyway.”
“So all in all, you’d say that Randy Wunderlich’s death is a blessing?”
“As her financial adviser, I’d say it has come too late. She may well have to auction off the property. But as a friend I say better late then never.”
“Do you take sleeping pills, Mr. Cresswell?” Hughes asked.
“Sleeping pills? Good lord no. I was in the Guards, man. I don’t mamby pamby myself.”
Hughes got to his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Cresswell. You’ve been most helpful. Can I ask you to stay around a few more days until we’ve got this matter sorted out?”
“Sorted out? What is there to sort out? The fool went into a cave and got himself drowned.”
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