The Dead of Winter (21 page)

But it also didn't take long before Chandler knew the confusing fact that Professor Meehan had actually been at Aikensthorpe for much of that time.

‘We've got ourselves a real can of worms,' Chandler muttered as he got off the phone to Mac. ‘Looks as though our roving inspector might actually be on to something.' Truthfully, he hadn't fully believed that the death reported at Aikensthorpe could be other than natural. In Chandler's experience, the deaths of old men in their beds tended to have very normal explanations.

TWENTY-TWO

M
ac was thoughtful as he returned to where everyone had gathered in the main hall. Today, any sense of camaraderie seemed to have vanished and the group had become factional. Not hostile to one another, just oddly tribal and protective of themselves. Rina and Joy sat with Tim on one side of the fireplace. Terry and Jay close by, but not quite belonging. Rav seemed to have joined forces with Robin and Viv and presently they were playing cards with Miriam, an activity Mac knew she didn't really enjoy.

Gail and Professor Franklin maintained an uneasy silence over by the window, near to one of the solid old cast-iron radiators. They could have moved to the fire, he thought, but since Rina's challenge the day before, Franklin seemed to be avoiding her. His relationship with Gail puzzled Mac, though, like Rina, he guessed they must be having some kind of an affair. He still couldn't figure out what might have drawn them together; they really didn't seem to like one another.

Melissa seemed to be avoiding everyone, staying in the kitchen as much as she could, and he was sure she had been crying. Her reaction to the discovery that Franklin was part-owner of this place also puzzled Mac. Was it simply that she felt she should know who she was actually working for? That she felt she was being spied upon? Or was her reaction more personally based than that?'

And where the hell had Toby got to? A renewed search that morning had turned up nothing.

All eyes turned to look at him as Mac entered the room.

‘Inspector Chandler and his people expect to be here soon,' he said. ‘But I'm afraid there's more bad news.'

‘Toby?' Tim asked, concerned about his old friend, even if he felt let down.

‘No, sorry, nothing on Toby. It's—'

‘Simeon. They've found him, haven't they?' Gail demanded, a hysterical edge to her tone.

‘I'm afraid so. They found his car when they cleared the mudslide.'

‘Had he crashed?' Viv asked. ‘Oh, Mac, that's dreadful. He must have been there for days.'

‘It wasn't snowing when he left,' Robin reminded her. ‘The mud slide hadn't happened.'

Viv's mouth formed a perfect ‘o' as this sank in.

‘What happened to him?' Rina asked.

‘Someone caved in his skull,' Mac told them, watching closely for reactions.

‘What?' Viv almost squeaked the word.

‘From what I've been told, it seems that he was killed, probably by a single blow to the face. He was then probably put in his car and driven away, the car was concealed and no doubt the killer intended to move it later.'

Consternation, fear, was that guilt? Hard to tell.

‘But he
left
.' No one seemed to have noticed before that Melissa had followed Mac into the room. ‘I saw him leave. He went out the back way, through the coach house. I saw him go.'

‘You saw him clearly?'

Melissa nodded.

‘You saw his face?'

‘Well . . .' She frowned. ‘No. He had his coat collar pulled up, and he was walking away from me. I'd gone into the yard at the back of the kitchen to get the washing out of the dryer. I saw him walk across the lawn carrying his suitcase and with that old leather bag of his slung over his shoulder. I mean, it was getting late, nearly dark, but . . .'

‘It most likely wasn't Simeon,' Mac told her.

‘You mean it was whoever killed Simeon? Oh God.'

Robin got up and led her to a chair. ‘Shall I get you a drink or something?'

‘No, I'll be fine. Thank you though. I just can't believe all this is happening. None of it makes sense.'

Amen to that, Rina agreed silently. But there was sense hidden in amongst the chaos, of that she was certain. Or reason, then, if not sense. Edwin and Simeon were both shareholders in this place . . . and so was David Franklin. Did that make him a potential victim or a potential killer?

So, she thought, who had been here when Simeon was killed? Gail, Franklin, Melissa, Toby, Edwin and Rav. Which of them could have impersonated Simeon? Not knowing what he looked like, Rina found that hard to guess.

‘How tall was he?' she asked. ‘How heavily built?'

‘Tall,' Gail said. ‘Tallish, anyway.' She shrugged. ‘Not heavily built or fat or anything, just a bit podgy round his middle and going a bit thin on top.'

Vague, Rina thought. She waited to see if anyone had more to add, but no one did. Given that kind of description, just about anyone could have passed themselves off as Simeon Meehan had they dressed in his coat and carried his bags. It could even be the stranger she had seen, heading across the lawn and towards the boundary hedge.

TWENTY-THREE

T
he police and CSI arrived just after two that afternoon, and Rina was aware of the sigh of relief that seemed to echo through the house. Mac spent an hour with Inspector Chandler and Miriam spoke at length to the CSI manager before both gratefully escaped to Rina's room.

‘You won't be involved in the investigation?' Rina was surprised. ‘I thought they'd be glad of the assistance.'

‘You're forgetting, Rina. First, I am well out of my area of jurisdiction, and second, I'm still technically suspended until after the enquiry. I'm still a suspect in the killing of Thomas Peel, remember.'

‘No one believes that; we all know who was actually responsible.'

‘True, and if anyone was serious about me being a suspect then I probably wouldn't be here, but, well, I don't want to mess things up for Chandler. If he asks me to help out on the quiet, then I'll do it, but that's all.'

‘I thought we might take a look at the attic,' Miriam said, ‘and then I thought you might like to come to our room and we could go through the box of papers Melissa found when the seance room was opened up.' She smiled wickedly. ‘Not that I want to be involved or anything, but, well, since we have the box, it seems silly not to look through it.'

‘Oh my goodness, I'd forgotten about that with all that's been going on. Does Melissa know you have it?'

‘She might do.' Miriam shrugged. ‘I asked, she said it was in the office somewhere, I went and found it. Actually, Rina, I think she was a bit cagey about it. It's funny, but since you outed David Franklin and the rest as shareholders she's been very upset about something, and I don't think it's just the two deaths.'

‘No, I don't think it is either. Mac, have you told this Inspector Chandler that Toby is missing?'

‘I did, but I don't think he's giving it priority. Why?'

‘Because I do wonder if he actually went anywhere. I mean, this is a massive house and—'

‘And there are plenty of places to hide should you want to disappear for a while without going to the trouble of getting cold and wet in a snowstorm. It's falling again, by the way,' Mac said.

Rina sighed. ‘I never thought I'd be sick of the sight of snow,' she said. ‘But I wish it would just stop. Mac, is Chandler planning on keeping us all here?'

‘I doubt it. Jay and Terry are both starting to make “do you know who I am this could ruin my reputation” noises. Not that it would, I'm sure. I think in Terry's case it would just add to the mystique, but I can understand them playing that particular card.'

‘Is Chandler going to be influenced?'

Mac laughed. ‘Not a chance, I'd say. I don't think he's the kind of man to be impressed by a bit of stardom. I suspect he might get Viv and Robin out of here first. After all, they only arrived a short time ago, and it's highly unlikely they are involved in any of this; there's no motive so far as I can see.'

‘That's because we can't see a bloody thing at the moment,' Rina said tartly. ‘No, but you're probably right, and Tim, Joy and Miriam, as well as ourselves, by the same reasoning.'

Mac nodded. ‘But, as I said, I don't have any influence.'

Rina led them up the attic stairs and into the large rooms she had entered, candlestick in hand, only a couple of nights before.

‘What an amazing space,' Miriam said. ‘It's bigger than the boathouse.'

Rina stood on the threshold and studied the attic room. Had anyone been here since she had come to investigate the strange noises? One set of scuffmarks in the dust, she remembered from before. Then her own, lighter and smaller. Then another.

‘Someone else has been here recently,' she said, pointing out the different tracks and, now she was looking more closely, the way the boxes had been moved and disturbed. Miriam had brought a compact camera with her, and she took contextual images before they went further into the room. Slowly, more methodically this time, they examined the boxes and tea chests stored there, trying to discern what the late-night visitor might have been after, but unless he was interested in tacky porcelain or books stinking of mouse urine, Rina really couldn't see what was so interesting. Unless they – whoever ‘they' were – had already found whatever it was they were looking for.

Feeling rather deflated, they made their way downstairs to find a rather confused looking police officer wandering the corridors. His countenance brightened when he saw Rina.

‘Mrs Martin?'

He's got it right, Rina thought, gratified. Mac's young police constable still referred to her as miss, even though she'd corrected him countless times.

‘Inspector Chandler would like a word, please. Just a quick statement.'

‘Any sign of Toby?' Miriam asked him.

‘No, miss, sorry. We're a bit understaffed. If you'll come with me, Mrs Martin.'

Rina shrugged and obediently followed the constable down the stairs.

Inspector Chandler listened and another officer took notes as Rina explained who she was and how she came to be there and described the events that had taken place since she had arrived. He was particularly interested in the man she had spotted, and Rina knew he was seeing this as a solution to his problems. Some thief had come in, attacked people, taken whatever he had come for and gone again. And, unlikely as it might seem, he had done that twice.

She could see his point in that this was a neat and nice resolution to a ravelled and messy situation, but she truly hoped he could improve her swiftly diminishing opinion of him.

Mac would never have looked for such an easy and inelegant way out.

‘Miss Perry seems very insistent that she sensed or felt Professor Meehan's presence at this so-called seance,' Chandler said, taking Rina a little by surprise. ‘May I ask what you think of that?'

Rina raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you asking if I believe that Gail receives messages from the dead or are you asking if I think she might be implicated in Simeon Meehan's death? I had left the others arguing and gone to bed before she made that particular announcement, anyway.'

She saw Chandler's mouth twitch as he tried not to smile. ‘You're very direct, aren't you? Inspector McGregor said you would be.'

‘I don't like beating round bushes. I don't see the point.'

‘Right. So what do you think is going on here, Mrs Martin? What's your take on this?'

‘Are you asking everyone this, or just a chosen few?'

‘Well, I made the mistake of asking Miss Perry, and she offered to do a reading or some such for me; hold an intervention, whatever the . . . one of those is.'

Rina laughed. ‘Inspector, we all make sense of the world in our own way. If that's what she feels will help, then of course that's what she will offer to do.'

‘And you? Not into crystal balls and tea leaves?'

‘No, Inspector. Only in the tea they make. I do have a thought or two though, but I don't know that you'll approve.'

‘Oh and why is that?'

Rina considered the man sitting across the dining table from her. He was older than Mac, probably not far off retirement. His hair was as grey as hers, though she had the years to justify that; he did not. His eyes were brown and oddly serious even when he joked and jibed. He was, she decided, a boxer. A slugger. He'd like it direct.

‘This place was bought by a so-called consortium about, what, eighteen months ago? Since then, while appearing to make plans to turn this lovely old house into a wedding venue and lord knows what else, they have done very little. Any bookings they have taken, it seems to me, have been almost accidental or at best
in
cidental to the main purpose of buying this house, and I ask you, Inspector, what group of business people buys a place like this and then, effectively, lets it stand idle, when a little care, attention and advertising could turn it into profit?' She paused and looked keenly at him, seeing that her thoughts made sense to him thus far.

She carried on. ‘I think this place is a front for something, though I don't know what. I also find it interesting that the two dead men and David Franklin are shareholders in this scheme, and that the one permanent employee they have—'

‘Melissa Burrows.'

‘Yes, Melissa, had no idea that they were in fact her employers until yesterday. She was very put out.'