The Green Remains (24 page)

Chapter Fifty-Four

“The police came and found arsenic in the glass, but I was gone by then.”

— Gayl Jones,
Eva’s Man

Wednesday, 27th October

11
AM

Ian finished typing up his interview notes from the day before and ran the spell-checker before saving the documents. He printed them and added a copy to the main file and made one for the case manager.

  No one present at Clarendon Hall had pertinent information about Daniel Rowley or Jack Halsey. Several had tales of drunken brawls or rude behavior to report from past brushes with the men, but there was no indication as to why either of them would be murdered. Their vocal dislike of Keith’s development plans had been mentioned, but Ian acknowledged this was unlikely to be the cause of all three deaths. The schemes were a long way from being accomplished, and the victims were on opposite sides of the equation.

  Ian could see why Rowley would be intensely against expansion. Never one to work hard for a decent living, Daniel managed to drink away the wages he eked out between Ramsey Lodge and Clarendon Hall. Rowley would have been afraid he’d be forced out of his hut and his jobs if Keith’s plans to turn the Hall into a grand retreat were realized. It was common knowledge that Daniel felt he had a right to stay in the shack because it was the only home he’d ever known.

  While Ian could rationalize that as a motive for Daniel wanting to murder Keith, it didn’t explain someone wanting Daniel or his good friend Halsey out of the way. He could understand if Daniel had killed Keith and then taken his own life in remorse, but why take his friend with him? And was Daniel even capable of remorse? None of it made sense—yet.

  Ian left the station to attend the autopsy on Daniel, hoping Milo Foreman would have some answers for him.

*

Noon

Tony Warner sat alone in The Scarlet Wench with a ploughman’s and a pint. He picked up the paper again, noting the byline with great pride under the bold headline:

Third Body Found in Serene Bowness

By Anthony L. Warner

Tony took a bite of his sandwich. Glenn Hackney had settled his bill and left right after an early breakfast, leaving Tony feeling oddly unsettled. The man had been useful, and Tony felt alone.

  “Can I get you anything else?” The waitress appeared suddenly at his elbow.

  Christ, he hated being startled like that. He shook his head, and after she’d gone, he re-read his article, scanning for typos. His mum kept a scrapbook of anything he published. He’d stroll down to one of the shops and pick up a few more copies once he finished his lunch.

  First things first, he decided, and withdrew a faux ostrich-covered notepad. Flicking to a clean page, he thought for a moment and then wrote:

  People and Places Former Editor Nora Tierney and Illustrator Simon Ramsey Questioned in Multiple Lakeland Murders.

  It wasn’t sensational, and he would have to be certain he explained they weren’t the only ones interviewed. He wanted to stay in Bowness to cover the story but had to dangle a carrot to get Old Jenks to foot the bill a little longer. He wasn’t worried about Jenks finding out about his moonlighting for the locals, but he didn’t know how long he could justify scouting Nora and her friends when he hadn’t yet come up with anything concrete. How many times could he rehash the same suppositions? Especially when one of Nora’s frequent remarks, with her bloody blue pencil deleting large paragraphs he’d labored over, had been “unsubstantiated rumor.”

  With a sigh, Tony drained his glass and decided he’d better call in to encourage Jenks that it was reasonable for him to stay on a bit longer. After all, a second and now a third body in a matter of days? Perhaps he should hint at the threat of a serial killer on the loose? That might make Old Jenks cave in.

  What Tony couldn’t shake was the feeling he’d let the real story escape when Glenn Hackney had roared back to Oxford.

*

12:15
PM

Arriving in the outskirts of Oxford, Glenn Hackney planned to go directly to the travel agency office. Worth usually took Wednesdays off. He would call the old man at home so he’d know Glenn had come in to check on things and had everything under control. He would also be sure he mentioned how thrilled Keith’s parents had been that Worth’s had been represented.

  Glenn was confident the Clarendons were unaware of their son’s foray into homosexuality. The man’s parents had been too polite to him for them to have known, and he’d already forgiven Keith’s bereaved father for being testy with him yesterday at the Hall; it was certainly understandable, given his grief.

  Glenn grinned when he recalled the few times he’d bedded Keith. He’d thought for a few weeks he was onto something there, maybe an end to this nomadic lifestyle of his, having found a good partner in the heir. He’d even started creating his own history for Keith’s benefit, one that left him an orphan without relatives to visit or entangle. Too bad that after a few really bright moments, Keith had abruptly decided he was remaining heterosexual in his relationship pursuits after all and had just been experimenting.

  Thankfully, Glenn’s search of Keith’s desk contents and a quick scout of his rooms hadn’t turned up any evidence pointing to Glenn’s current scheme. Keith’s laptop was missing, with the police no doubt, but Glenn didn’t believe the young man would have documented anything on his computer. If he’d truly become aware of Glenn’s embezzling, he would have gone directly to Edgar Worth.

  Glenn spent a tremendous amount of time on what he termed “research and development” for his maneuvers. This was serious business he did, even though Scotland Yard and the Criminal Investigation Department preferred to call them scams.

  Glenn “Macavity” Hackney settled back to enjoy the rest of the ride to Oxford. He’d stopped once along the way to stretch his back and admire the offerings in a jewelry shop along the way, and he was in an expansive mood. Maybe he’d even offer to let Amy go home early tonight. He considered this as he sped along the motorway. By now, she would have organized the files he’d strewn around the office, and it would be all neat and tidy.

  Oh yes, he thought, a thin smile sliding across his face. Poor Amy worked too hard over the last few days, and when she leaves, I’ll have the latest bank record all to myself.

Chapter Fifty-Five

“People know when you are trying to be something you are not.”

— John O’Hara,
The Big Laugh

1
PM

It drizzled all day, off and on, the droplets tapping on leaves and plants outside Ramsey Lodge. True to her word, Kate bundled Nora off to her own rooms to work after lunch. Over the next few hours, she and Simon would paint the alcove with the low-fume, pale green paint Nora had selected.

  Nora obediently waited until she heard Simon moving a ladder into her room and then he and Kate talking together. She slid her feet back into her shoes after leaving a note, saying she was out taking her walk, on Kate’s coffee table in case either Ramsey came looking for her. On impulse, she lifted Kate’s cloak off a peg near the door. The voluminous, green, boiled-wool cape covered Nora’s bulk, reaching her ankles. She hid her hair with a plaid scarf stuffed in its pocket. Closing the front door quietly, she hurried in the direction of the Lake District Touring Company’s office.

  A few minutes later, Nora arrived at the kiosk on the quay that offered half- and full-day sightseeing tours of Lake District highlights. A poster urging “Tour Historic Clarendon Hall!” had a notice pasted over its particulars:
Tours cancelled until further notice.

 
Nora withdrew her notebook and waited for the woman on duty to deal with a family of four. After she’d pointed out the van stop where they could be picked up for Kendal’s film festival, the family moved off and Nora approached. She felt thrilled to be on the snoop again.

  “Yes, how can I help?” The woman was tall and seemed too large for the small kiosk she occupied. Her knitted, cream hat was pulled low over short, black hair.

  Nora hoped the cloak would hide her pregnancy and her identity. She put on her most pleasant smile. “Hello, I work for
People and Places
magazine.” She neglected to add:
But not for the last eight months.
“I suspect you know our coverage is national.”

  “Oh, yes, my neighbor gets that and hands it over when she’s read it.” The woman stood taller. “Were you wanting to do a feature on us?”

  Nora leaned in confidentially as far as the counter would allow. “Actually, I was hoping for a good quote from someone in the know on the cancellation of the tours at Clarendon Hall.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips. “That is a true tragedy. We could hardly intrude on the family’s bereavement at this sad time.”

  “Of course not. That is absolutely the right thing to do,” Nora agreed. This wasn’t quite what she’d hoped to get. “I’ve heard the dead man wasn’t very popular in the village with his development plans.”

  “That’s a distortion if I ever heard one.” Her nostrils flared. “The Clarendons are one of the oldest and most respected families in the area. You can quote me on that,” she said loudly. She looked around and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You didn’t hear it from me, but if Daniel Rowley and Jack Halsey were involved, there was criminal activity in the mix, count on it.” She sniffed and consulted her watch. “Time for my break.”

  She reached up to pull down a metal security gate, leaving Nora to wonder if she’d imagined the woman muttering,
“
Ballsy American.”

*

8:10
PM

Nora tried to think of another way to gather information. She spent the rest of the afternoon with her feet up on Kate’s comfortable couch, alternating between notebooks: the one in which she worked on storylines for her book series and the one in which she jotted ideas and notes to herself about baby names and about possible identities of the murderer going around Bowness. Kate’s cloak was back on its peg, the scarf in its pocket. Nora felt the frustration of not being mobile and quick on her feet. Her brain must be off. Couldn’t she have thought of a better gambit to get that woman at the tour company to talk more? She was losing her touch.

  The weight of pregnancy on her small body was making her fatigued. It must be interfering with her brain cells. Those Braxton-Hicks contractions were becoming more and more frequent, and Nora was glad the baby’s room would soon be ready.

  Now that dinner was over, Simon and Kate escorted Nora to her room to show off their handiwork.

  “The green you chose is perfect, Nora,” Kate said as they entered the suite. “Just a hint of color of the outdoors.”

  Nora’s chair was moved into a corner of the room next to the alcove window. Except for the chair, the crib box and the clothing cartons from Nora’s mother, the space was empty and waiting.

   “It’s lovely,” Nora said. “The crown molding and trim stand out in that crisp white. Thank you both so much.” She followed Simon’s eyes and looked up at the ceiling, drawing in a breath. Simon had painted it pale blue and added wispy clouds. It was the perfect nursery for her son. Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such good friends. It’s wonderful!”

  “Teary again? You rest,” Kate said. “I’ve got a few things to do before Agnes gets back.”

  “Me, too.” Simon ruffled her hair. “See you tomorrow.”

  Nora didn’t miss the look that passed between the siblings—they were up to something. Darby scratched outside her door and padded in as the others left. He stretched out at her feet when she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop to continue reading Keith’s work. She put aside her workbook and leafed through her personal notebook as it booted up, looking at her jottings from today.

  She remembered she had no idea when Glenn Hackney had really arrived in Bowness, only when he’d checked into Ramsey Lodge. He was a good suspect to think about. She wrote several motives next to his name: Blackmail—maybe Keith had some goods on Glenn and he wanted to stop payments? But Keith didn’t strike her as a blackmailer. What if she turned it around? Glenn could have been blackmailing Keith, who tired of it and threatened to go to the authorities. But over what? Keith’s sexual orientation, or an affair with Glenn? Surely that wasn’t grounds for blackmail in today’s day and age. But with the expectation of carrying on the Clarendon name, might it be? Nora was impatient to hear from Val. Next to Cook’s, Gillian’s and Robbie’s names, Nora left question marks; not enough to go on there, despite her sense that Cook was holding back information. Nora added a second question mark next to Cook’s name. There was more under the surface to be explored.

  Then the parents. She simply couldn’t fathom a parent killing his or her own child, but she knew others had. Still, Sommer was clearly incapacitated, and Antonia’s grief seemed too real to be faked. As for Edmunde, why would he want to murder his nephew?

  And then what about Jack Halsey and Daniel Rowley, if Keith’s murder did indeed have a family motive? Nora couldn’t abandon the feeling that the key to all three deaths lay in something Keith had unearthed.

  Barefoot, she lightly ran her feet over the dog’s wiry coat and continued reading Keith’s file where she’d left off, her frustration growing as her eyes got heavy. She felt she was missing the significance of some small detail, but she couldn’t see how Lake District chronicles or history could help her.

*

8:45
PM

Tony Warner turned off his phone, and a satisfied smile spread across his face. He’d convinced Old Jenks he should wait around Bowness for another two days while the investigation continued into the additional deaths of Jack Halsey and Daniel Rowley.

  “Yes, Mr. Jenkins, I have a direct pipeline, what with our Miss Tierney here. Clear access to the investigation team, too. The way these bodies keep piling up—” He lowered his voice and spoke directly into his mobile. “I’ve heard rumors of a serial killer—who can say what will happen next? But I can guarantee
People and Places
will have an exclusive article from my unique, on-the-spot perspective.”

  Tony was confident any news would reach his ears before it reached Old Jenks, and he was bored without Glenn Hackney to impress. He took out his Lake District guidebook and paged through it. There were so many attractions in the area, and he hovered over the pages on Beatrix Potters’ Hill Top cottage as a spot to visit the next day. In the afternoon, he might give the Windermere Steamboat Museum a shout. A few pictures and notes, and he’d have a feature article waiting to be written down the road. While he awaited new developments, he might as well enjoy himself.

*

10:30
PM

Nora woke with a jerk. She’d dozed off, this time on her bed with her list of names open beside her. Checking the clock on her nightstand, she thought Val would be in from her evening snooping. Nora decided to call before she fell asleep again.

  To her relief, Val answered on the third ring. “Just got in, and I have one word for you, Yankee: smar-r-r-my.”

  It was good to hear her friend’s voice. She missed Val. “I agree, Val. I thought he might show up, since he left here this morning.”

  “I hung around The Blue Virgin right after the cooperative closed. The club’s just not the same, I don’t mind telling you that.”

  “I know you miss Bryn, Valentine.”

  There was a pause, and Val continued. “I was actually thinking of leaving and letting you down when in he walks, very full of himself. Just the way I remembered from the travel agency, smug and too much vanilla, like a bloody ice cream soda. But I know the lad he started to chat up, so it made going over easy.”

  She described the conversation, which consisted mainly of Glenn trying to lure the fellow home for the night. “He can’t dress in those expensive clothes and have that kind of a watch on his salary, unless I have seriously underrated the income of a travel agent. He’s an arrogant wanker, isn’t he?”

  Nora agreed. “Then where does his money come from? Family? Or ill-gotten gains?”

  “He comes across all mysterious, as though he has this big secret. And another thing: No one there knew Keith Clarendon when I dropped his name into conversations, so I think it’s unlikely he was a part of that scene.”

  “So you don’t feel it was his homosexuality that Keith held over his head or vice versa?”

  “This cheeky one?” Val snorted. “No, Yankee, some wear their sexual orientation on their sleeve, and this one’s a queen through and through. I don’t suspect he’s ever tried to hide it. He revels in it.”

  Nora sighed. “I still don’t know where the other two deaths fit in.”

  “Other
two
?” Val shrieked. “Are you safe there, Nora?”

  Nora ignored her and explained about Jack Halsey and Daniel Rowley. “So if Glenn’s involved, it must revolve around something else.” She described the tour guide admitting Daniel and Jack were likely to be up to no good. “But I couldn’t get much else out of her. She seemed to think I was an ugly American.”

  “You’re a pussycat. But it sounds to me like Keith was the kind of guy who’d have no problem telling someone to piss off, whether it was Daniel, Jack or Glenn. Glenn’s not nice, but I think you need another angle for murder, Nora.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, with Val describing an art installation she was getting ready to mount in Manchester. “I was thinking I’d drive to you tomorrow and spend the night. I want to see you in all your glory before you deliver.”

  “I’d love that, Val. When would you get here?”

  “Late afternoon. I have to sort out a few things at the cooperative first.”

  “Perfect.” Nora looked forward to seeing her friend. And Val’s late arrival would leave her plenty of time for the interview she wanted to cram in.