Heirs of the Body (27 page)

“Certainly. In my den.” Edgar started to get up.

“Just a minute,” said Daisy. “Don’t go before you hear the good news. Martha’s Samuel has arrived.”

“Oh dear!” Geraldine jumped up in her turn. “And neither of us there to greet him. Why on earth didn’t Lowecroft announce him?”

“My fault. I took him straight up to Martha.”

Edgar beamed. “Quite right, my dear.”

Geraldine, more conscious of the proprieties, said with a touch of austerity, “I trust they were happy to see each other.” Thawing a bit, she added, “They’ve been separated for a long time, and Martha anxious about his well-being, as well. Do they mean to come down for tea?”

“I expect so. Sam walked from Worcester so he must be hungry.”

“Walked!”

“Martha says he enjoys exploring new places.”

“Ten or twelve miles is nothing to a healthy young man, my dear. In fact, I daresay I walk as far on some of my little expeditions.” Edgar scratched absently at a smear of drying mud on his cheek. A blob crumbled and dropped to the carpet. “Alec, Samuel must be warned about the possibility of an attack. I don’t wish to sound melodramatic, but here he is, newly arrived in England, newly arrived at Fairacres, quite unaware that he may be in danger.”

“You’re right. I’ll explain the situation to him. Daisy, does Martha know what’s going on? Or rather, what we fear may be going on?”

“Not really. I mean, she knows Belinda and Ben both had falls, but considering the way they all racket about, she doesn’t think anything of it. She was there on the terrace when Vincent came back limping. She hasn’t put them together. And I haven’t told her about Raymond. Of course, she’ll have to know about that, but I don’t think she ought to have the rest spelt out for her.”

“Definitely not,” said Geraldine.

“I rather doubt she’s as fragile as you suppose. I seem to remember Daisy surviving an adventure or two in the same condition! But I bow to your judgment, ladies. However, I must remind you that we have no evidence other than his own word that Samuel has only just arrived in England, nor that he and Martha have not been in touch.”

“True, alas,” Edgar admitted with a heavy sigh. “I hate to say it of my own kin, but there’s not one of them we can trust, except—”

“Remember the diamonds, Edgar,” Geraldine interrupted. “If Raymond was killed for those, he still might have been responsible for the rest.”

“I realise that, my dear. I was going to say, except for Ben. I cannot and will not believe the boy responsible, whatever the failings of his guardian.”

“Cheer up, Cousin Edgar,” said Daisy. “Frank Crowley is no kin of yours and mine.”

“But not therefore beyond suspicion,” Alec reminded them.

Edgar shook his head sadly. “Ben looks up to him. He might reasonably expect to control the estate, or at least to profit from it, if the boy inherited. What I don’t understand is how anyone profits from Raymond’s death. He has a son in Cape Town, does he not, my dear?”

“So Mr. Pearson told me,” Geraldine agreed. “It makes one suppose the diamonds were indeed the motive, if it wasn’t pure accident.”

“Vincent has a son,” said Daisy. “Benjamin has a brother.”

“It’s all very puzzling.”

“It is indeed, sir,” said Alec. “I hope the queries I’ve put out will bring some clarity. At best, we’ll find it’s just a fortuitous series of accidents, though what Sir Nigel and Superintendent Crane will have to say in that case, I hate to think!”

“You let me worry about Sir Nigel,” Geraldine said staunchly.

“As far as the Super’s concerned,” said Daisy, “you can blame it all on me. He probably will, anyway.”

Alec gave an ironic bow. “Thank you for your protection, ladies!”

“That’s all very well,” said Edgar, “but it seems to me we ought to be thinking about how to protect young Benjamin. Little though I want to send him away, God knows, perhaps it would be safest.”

“Alec and I have discussed that. We didn’t really come to any conclusion, did we, darling? But on the whole I think he’ll be safer here, where we can all keep an eye on him. I’m going to talk to Belinda and Derek—”

“Edgar should talk to Derek,” Geraldine said, “and Benjamin, come to that. Unless he’s lost his touch—”

“Really, my dear, I trust not!”

“—he’s extremely good with boys that age and I’m sure can make them see it as an adventure.”

“Then I wish you’d include Bel, Edgar. She enjoys expeditions with you just as much as the boys do.”

“By all means, Daisy. She’s a very sensible young lady.”

Alec nodded in agreement and consent. “I wonder whether it’s worth trying to get Frank Crowley to take a hand. His sense of responsibility towards Ben has limits I have yet to fathom.”

“He spends a good deal of time at the Wedge and Beetle,” Geraldine said austerely.

“He feels more at home there,” said Alec. “I can understand that. Perhaps he’ll find a fellow spirit in Sam—”

“And they’ll go off carousing together! Though I must admit, Mr. Crowley has never come back visibly intoxicated.”

“I was going to say, who’ll keep him closer to home. Unless, of course, they’re trying to kill each other.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Martha came
down on Sam’s arm to tea on the terrace. She was radiant as, with obvious pride, she introduced him to everyone. Daisy felt happier just looking at her. Geraldine was every inch the gracious hostess. She invited him to sit beside her and plied him with tea and questions.

“I hope you had good weather for your voyage. When did you arrive in England?”

“Just a couple of days ago,” he said cheerfully, without hesitation. “I’ve been in America.”

“So I heard.”

Sam grinned. “Yes, well, a successful trip, though not without a bit of excitement. Then I had a fair amount of business to be done in Jamaica. I was lucky to get a first mate’s berth for an Atlantic crossing when I did. Sometimes you have to wait quite a while, or settle for second officer, but my friends were looking out for a place for me.”

Frank joined in the conversation. Vincent and Laurette listened, but they kept looked round, as if wondering where Raymond was. Martha, her fond gaze on her Sammy, sipped her tea and pulled a face, then drank it at a gulp, as if it were medicine. Either it was the wrong kind of mint again or her taste buds were still out of order, Daisy guessed.

Alec had asked Daisy, Edgar, and Geraldine not to announce Raymond’s death to the others. He wanted to see who would ask after him first, and how each would react to the news. Geraldine was to keep a close watch on Sam and Martha, Daisy on Vincent and Laurette, and Edgar on Frank Crowley, while Alec had a good view of everyone from his seat on the wall.

Laurette grew more and more disturbed and at last said, “Daisy, do you know how Raymond goes? It seemed to me that he was
à peine
—not much—shaken by his fall, but he hasn’t come to tea. Does he find himself unwell?”

“I’m afraid there’s bad news, Laurette. Edgar was going to tell everyone after tea, so as not to spoil Sam’s welcome, but since you ask…” She glanced at Edgar who, well-primed by Alec, nodded assent. “Raymond died on the way home.”

Laurette was aghast.
“Mais, ma foi, c’est inouï!
Impossible! A small fall, it does not cause the death.”

“Did you see him fall?” Alec asked.

“
Non, non
. I was with Daisy. We were not close and the tramway blocked our view. We saw that something happens. The policeman blows the whistle. All vehicles cease to move. But Raymond we did not see until a policeman helps him to the pavement. He felt himself weak from shock. This is natural. But to die … impossible.”

“Impossible,” Vincent echoed. His face was very pale. Daisy wondered if he was thinking of his own “accident” in the wood and whether it could have proved fatal.

“Nonetheless, he is dead.”

“Poor old chap!” said Frank, without much concern. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Alec looked round. “You were all in Worcester this morning except for Martha and Lord Dalrymple. Did anyone see Raymond fall?”

Daisy kept her gaze on Vincent and Laurette as instructed, but from the corners of her eyes she saw the others shake their heads, as did Vincent.

“This whistle-blowing policeman,” said Frank, “he must have seen the whole thing.”

“Not clearly,” Alec said. “It’s a busy corner and directing traffic is his job. He glimpsed a pedestrian stumbling into the path of a tram. Thereafter he concentrated on stopping the traffic in every direction. He couldn’t provide any useful description of the person who saved Raymond from the wheels. All we know is that it was a man in a hat, an ordinary sort of bloke.”

“‘
We
know?’” Frank asked with lively interest. He made no effort to put on a show of mourning for Raymond.

“Mr. Fletcher is a copper,” Sam revealed. “A detective.”

“What?” Frank immediately looked shifty, casting a sidelong glance at Alec. “How do you know?”

“Martha stayed with the Fletchers in London for several weeks. She wrote to her sister at home, so I found out when I returned to Kingston. I’m a sailor by profession, if you didn’t know.”

“Someone mentioned it. Ever been to Trinidad?”

Sam had. The two young men were soon caught up in a comparison of Port of Spain and Kingston, Raymond’s death for the moment forgotten.

Vincent and Laurette, upon whom Daisy was supposed to be concentrating, talked to each other in undertones, looking decidedly glum. In fact, Laurette looked distraught. Daisy moved to sit beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a horrid thing to have happened. I wish I’d realised sooner how badly hurt he was. I’d have taken him straight to a doctor instead of bringing him back to Fairacres.”

“He didn’t tell you he felt really ill?” Vincent asked anxiously. “Did he say anything about the accident, how it happened?”

“No, he didn’t speak after the bobbies helped him into the car.”

“Then I don’t see how you can blame yourself,” he said with relief.

Daisy was touched by his concern. “Still, I can’t help hoping the postmortem will show even immediate medical care couldn’t have saved him.”

“Postmortem!” Laurette exclaimed in horror. “
L’autopsie?
”

“It’s required, as he didn’t have a doctor in attendance to give a death certificate. They have to find out what he died of so that they can report to the coroner.”

“You mean there will be an inquest?” Vincent was outraged. “Surely they can’t expect a viscount and his family to attend an inquest.”

“I can’t see any reason you would be expected to, unless you know something pertinent about his health.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Laurette might be called,” said Daisy, “as we were both with him waiting for his car, and in the car for a couple of minutes. I doubt it, though, as she won’t be able to tell them anything I can’t. I’m sure to have to give evidence, as I was with him when he died. Not necessarily right away, though, if the police ask for an adjournment to give them time to investigate.”

“I can’t see that there’s anything for the police to investigate.”

“Vincent,
je ne puis supporter ça encore un instant.
”

“
Bien, chérie.
If you’ll excuse us, Daisy, Laurette is very distressed, as you can see. She’ll be the better for a stroll in the garden.” He presented their excuses to Geraldine; the couple went down the terrace steps and headed for the shade of the pleached alley.

Daisy watched. Vincent hadn’t brought his stick. He was walking normally without it, even with Laurette leaning on his arm. He, at least, had recovered from his “accident.” She noticed that Alec, also, was watching them, with narrowed eyes. She went to sit beside him on the wall.

“What’s bitten those two?”

“It was rather insensitive of me, I suppose, when Laurette was obviously upset by what happened to Raymond. I mentioned the autopsy and the inquest, and she said she couldn’t stand it any longer.”

“Would you say she was genuinely upset?”

“Oh yes, and Vincent too. Not suffering from grief, I would say, but shocked and horrified. I wondered whether they were thinking that
his
accident could have been a serious attempt on his life.”

“I see he’s not using his walking stick. What about this morning?”

“He did say something about not wanting to tackle the steps up the tower. I don’t remember if he had his stick. “

“Damn, neither do I.”

“But he might have taken it in case of need for a walk of indefinite duration round the town, yet not for a stroll in the garden.”

“True.” He looked up as Ernest came out. The footman bore a silver salver on which reposed a pinkish-buff telegram envelope and a paper knife. “What now, I wonder?”

Ernest presented the telegram to Geraldine. “The evening post has come, my lady. Mr. Lowecroft said to bring you this immediately.”

“Thank you, Ernest. Fresh tea and hot water, please. Please excuse me,” she said to her immediate neighbours, slitting the envelope. The message took only a moment to read. She refolded the form and asked Ernest to take it to Alec.

“With her ladyship’s compliments,” he said, lowering his voice to add, “If there’s anything doing, sir, you know as I’m game.”

“I do, Ernest. I’ve not forgotten your assistance. Nothing at present, but I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

The footman bowed with a grin, then wiped it from his face and, with a suitably impassive expression, took himself off to collect teapots and hot-water jugs.

“Pearson can’t make it down here till Thursday evening,” Alec told Daisy, showing her the telegram.

“Bother! That means we’ll have to wait till then to know what documents Sam has up his sleeve. Can you make him show you?”

“Questionable. Even if this turns out to be a case for the police, I’d probably have to get a court order. Unless there’s strong evidence that they’re relevant to a criminal investigation, which seems unlikely.”

“But it may show us who’s the real heir!”

“I must have a talk with him anyway.”

“I’ll take notes,” Daisy said eagerly.

“No notes. An informal chat to put him in the picture.”