The Dead of Winter (26 page)

‘I'm sure,' Rina told him. ‘Suffice it to say that Melissa told me. Let's leave it at that, can we?'

Jay and Terry exchanged glances, and Rina knew she didn't need to spell it out for them.

‘But—' Terry began to object.

Jay waved him into silence. ‘OK, we'll let that lie for the moment. Let's just assume that maybe these were considered too rare, too noticeable to shift yet. That would make a kind of sense.'

‘OK.' Terry looked far from satisfied. ‘So what isn't here?'

‘Do either of you happen to know what Edwin was researching?'

Blank looks. ‘Here?' Jay asked. ‘I didn't know that he was.'

‘He said he had another book planned.'

‘He did,' Jay confirmed. ‘But nothing here would have helped him. In fact, that's why he really wanted us to get together, what we talked about. I was going to help him with the technical stuff.'

‘You're sure there would be nothing here? I mean, even if he wasn't researching for the next book, maybe he—'

Jay was shaking his head. ‘Oh, I don't doubt he'd have loved this place, but he was planning on writing about a man called John Murray Spear: he was a minister and medium in the 1830s. He did early experiments with magnetism and then claimed to have built a machine that could help him speak directly to God. There's been a fair amount of research done in the States, but I've recently unearthed some schematics which no one else seems to have connected to Spear's machine. I ran the idea past Edwin, and he believed I was on to something. Edwin was going to edit the book, add a monograph of his own and the research on the new schematics, and invite others in the same field to contribute their own essays.' He laughed. ‘Frankly, if we sold a few hundred copies we'd have both been happy. We'd already found a printer and someone to help us with the technical stuff, but it was never destined to be a best-seller. It's the sort of thing only geeks like us get excited about.'

‘I'd have liked it,' Terry objected plaintively. Rina thought she may have done so too.

So, she thought, if Edwin hadn't needed to use the library for his own research, was he just coming for the pleasure of being among so many splendid old books? Melissa said he'd stayed about a half-dozen times this past year, carrying out his studies, that he had noticed a book missing because he needed it.

Was that true? Was Jay mistaken? Or was Melissa being economical with the truth – and if so, what did she hope to gain?

THIRTY

M
elissa was still asleep when Rina and the others returned to the main room. It was four in the afternoon; the curtains were already closed against the dark, and there was still no sign of the promised incident room and accompanying officers. Twitching the drapes aside to look out, Rina could understand why.

‘I'm going to make some tea and cobble some sandwiches together,' Rina announced.

‘I'll come and help,' Joy said.

‘I'll give you a hand too.' Viv slipped off the sofa from between Rav and Robin.

‘Oh, but the film's nearly over. Shall we pause it?' Robin barely took his eyes off the screen, and Rina wondered what they had been watching.

‘No, it's fine. I'll catch it later. If I don't move I'm going to set in that position.' She dropped a kiss on Robin's head and joined Rina and Joy by the door.

‘Anything interesting in the library?' Joy asked. ‘Do you think we should wake Melissa or let her sleep?'

‘We can wake her when we've got the tea ready. As to the library, yes, it's a rather wonderful collection. You should take a look.'

She closed the kitchen door and filled the hot water urn, set it to boil. ‘I think we might as well use that rather than bother with all the kettles. Right, one of you find bread while I raid the fridge, and we'll see what cake there is left, and then, Viv, you can tell me what's on your mind.'

Joy raised an eyebrow, and Viv laughed uneasily. ‘You don't let much slip past, do you?'

‘I try not to.'

‘Right,' Viv said. ‘You see, Rina, I've got a bit of a problem.'

Chandler had called Mac into Melissa's office.

‘Phone lines are down,' Mac said. ‘We've still got erratic mobile coverage.'

The lights flickered, but did not completely fail. ‘Not good,' Chandler said. ‘I understand this place has a generator? We should sort it out. I'll send Brown and borrow your Tim.'

‘I wouldn't,' Mac said. ‘Tim is wonderful when it comes to modelling obscure and ancient trickery, but if it needs a spanner then you're best finding someone else. Terry's looking bored, send him.'

Chandler laughed. ‘Can I trust him with my constable? He might be a suspect.'

‘So if Brown gets hit over the head, we'll know who did it. What have you found out?' Chandler seemed to have spent half the afternoon on his mobile telephone.

‘That I've been treated like a mushroom yet again.'

‘Kept in the dark and fed shit?'

‘Right.' Chandler sounded bitter.

Mac looked at him expectantly.

‘This place is already under investigation. No one thought to tell us locals, of course, and what I know now you could write on the back of a fag packet.'

‘Serious crimes unit?'

Chandler nodded. ‘My boss tells me we've got someone on the inside. He doesn't know who, of course.'

Mac nodded; even if Chandler's boss did know, he wouldn't say. ‘I suppose we should hope it wasn't Edwin, Simeon or Toby.'

‘That would complicate matters.'

‘Any news on the cavalry arriving?'

‘Stuck in a snowdrift ten miles down the road. There's a public footpath that cuts across below the cottage and the barn where we found Toby. If anyone can get through that far, they'll walk the rest of the way over the fields.' Chandler didn't look hopeful.

‘Up to us then.'

‘So it would seem. Right, let's get Brown on to the generator and find the candles, just in case. We should make sure everyone charges their mobiles while we've still got electric and get out extra blankets.'

‘Blankets?'

‘If the power goes out, the generator will take care of essentials, but the rest of the house is going to be very cold and very dark.'

Using Melissa's old tea trolley, Rina and the others took food through to the main hall. They had met PC Brown and Terry in the hallway going off to sort the generator, and Melissa – awake now, if a little vague – had been dispatched with helpers to find quilts and blankets.

‘Do you think the power really will go out?' Gail looked scared.

‘We should be prepared, and we should all stay together,' Chandler said. ‘Round here most of the lines are above ground, just like the phone, so it's not unusual.'

PC Brown and Terry returned, snow-covered and chilled, with news that the generator was fuelled and ready to go and they had found paraffin and a cache of lamps in the same outbuilding. They had brought them into the boot room.

‘So, what now?' Mac asked.

Chandler shrugged. ‘We eat our sandwiches and we drink our tea and we let Melissa tell everyone what's been going on, see who reacts. Any better ideas and I'm ready to listen.'

‘No, given the current situation, I'm not sure I do, unless it's to do nothing until we get back up. Three dead already, it's not an encouraging figure. One thing I didn't ask – did you get anything on the book dealer Melissa claimed was the stranger Rina saw?'

‘I'm still waiting to hear back. In fact, there's a few loose ends I've only half tied up, one of which looks very interesting.'

‘Care to share?'

Chandler smiled. ‘Later, when I've got all the pieces. We'd better go in. Rina is waiting.'

Melissa had managed not to cry as she had told everyone about her background and Toby; how she had come to work here; and how she had stolen to protect Toby and pay his debts.

On one side of the room Mac sat beside Miriam, watching the reactions. Chandler leaned against the fireplace, mug of tea in hand. How come, Mac wondered, he had a mug, when the rest of them were making do with silly little white catering cups?

Rina sat with Tim and Joy. She knew the story already and made no comment as Melissa reprised her tale. She seemed to be watching Viv and Robin rather than Melissa, Mac noted, and he wondered why. Joy was frowning fiercely, as though something puzzled her, though Mac knew that she, too, had heard this before.

‘So, that's it then,' Gail said, her voice rising angrily. ‘It's this gang, whoever they are. They killed Simeon and Edwin and now Toby.' She turned to Chandler. ‘I demand you let us leave, get us protection.'

‘I would love to,' Chandler said evenly. ‘But as your previous attempts to leave must have demonstrated, wanting and doing are two different animals.'

‘Melissa,' Rina asked, ‘the box of papers you said you found in the seance room – is that true?'

A moment's hesitation. ‘The box was there, some papers in it. The rest were from the family. I brought them here.'

‘Why?'

She shrugged. ‘I don't know.'

‘Can you sort out for me what was in the box and what wasn't?'

‘Why? What does it matter?'

‘If you could just do what Mrs Martin asks,' Chandler told her.

Melissa shrugged and looked away.

‘I've got another question,' Chandler said. ‘About the ownership of this place.'

Mac saw Melissa flinch, the reaction barely perceptible but definitely there.

‘It's owned by some consortium or other,' David Franklin said. ‘We all know that. Oh, and Edwin and Simeon had shares, didn't they?'

‘Edwin, Simeon, you and Grace Wright did, Mr Franklin.'

‘
Professor
Franklin.'

‘How do you come to own shares in this place? Why Aikensthorpe House?'

David Franklin opened his mouth . . . and then shut it again.

‘Professor Franklin?'

‘Simeon told me. He said that this consortium, Reality whatsit, had bought Aikensthorpe and were selling a small number of shares. I don't know how he heard, but we both found the idea appealing. I think he must also have told Edwin.'

‘Your reasons?'

David Franklin glared. He controlled his emotions less effectively recently, Rina noted. ‘It's buying a little bit of history,' he said. ‘Like you buying a piece of police memorabilia.'

‘I think an old truncheon might come in at a lower price,' Chandler said. He turned his attention to Melissa. ‘Though maybe you gave them mates rates, did you?'

‘What?' Melissa got to her feet. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Ah, well, you see, all my phoning around turned up some interesting bits and scraps. Like the fact that when Albert Southam died, he tied this place up in trust so it couldn't be sold, not until either his daughter or his daughter's descendants came back to claim this place, or until those who held the trust judged that wasn't likely to happen or financial problems forced a sale. Well, five years or so ago that came about. The law firm that had administered the trust finally closed, and those responsible for winding up its affairs decided the house should be sold on – all but ten per cent of the value, which should be held in the form of shares in whatever business took over.' He shrugged. ‘I don't begin to understand the ins and outs of it, but the fact remains that a proportion of the value and ownership of this place remained in trust, just in case some relative of Southam's showed up. It seems he forgave his wife and loved his daughter.'

‘So why did Elizabeth never come back?'

‘Because she died,' Melissa said. ‘Giving birth to Grace. It happened a lot back then. I don't know why it was concealed, but Albert knew, and the servants who went with Elizabeth to Rome continued to look after Grace until Albert died.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘More scandal.' Melissa shrugged. ‘Though it was hushed up by friends of Albert. It all got very messy. George Weston challenged the will, saying Albert Southam had promised to marry his mother but had then cast her out. He had letters and papers to support that. He threatened if he ever caught up with Grace he'd kill her, so the servants went into hiding with her. Grace only found out who she was when she got married and became Grace Wright. It all faded into family history – you know, the kind of legend lots of families have about lost rich relatives. No one really believes them.'

‘But you found out there was truth to the rumours.'

‘Eventually, yes. It was Toby who found out, really. He saw that Aikensthorpe had come on the market. There was an article in some magazine or other, and it mentioned the strange mystery of the Aikensthorpe heirs, and suddenly what we'd imagined and wished for when we were kids, it all seemed possible.'

‘But you couldn't claim the house?' Mac asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, it had all gone too far, the trust wound up and all that.'

‘So what happened to the money from the sale?'

‘It's still going through the courts, isn't it, Grace?' Chandler said. ‘But it seems there are other descendants challenging now.'

‘
Grace
?'

‘Melissa is my second name,' she said flatly. ‘I've never cared much for Grace. It's so bloody insipid. This house should have been mine. I've already proved that.'

‘Granted,' Chalmers said. ‘My legal contacts tell me you'd proved enough to get hold of the ten per cent. You are a direct descendent of Elizabeth and Albert Southam, but I'm told your chances of taking the rest are pretty minimal because of certain codicils in the will favouring George Weston and his kin.'