Barbara Cleverly - Strange Images of Death

‘I’m warning you, Sandilands-he’s not going to get away with it! If you don’t take his rotting carcase away from here, I’ll finish him off myself. But-don’t be concerned! I’ll kill him cleverly … neatly. You won’t be called on to arrest me.’

‘No need for that, Guy. No need for violence of any kind. Calm down! Your cousin didn’t murder Estelle. I have myself confirmed his alibi. He it was who smashed the statue as a prelude, indeed, to offering up Estelle as some mad sacrifice to the full moon. But he was thwarted. His plans went awry. He was in a paroxysm of fury when he returned from his bridge-playing session to find someone had beaten him to it. And using the very method he’d planned himself.’

‘You’re sure of this, Sandilands?’

‘Completely.’

‘Then, if I am to accept this … and I suppose I must … what are we to understand? That someone in this household has been aware of everything from the beginning?’

‘Yes,’ said Joe quietly. ‘You’re right. Someone here has been close enough to Silmont to wriggle inside his diseased brain and follow his sick thoughts to their conclusion. There’s some human spirochete about-someone in our company who’s as mad as he is.’

‘Hideous thought, indeed, Sandilands.’

Joe got to his feet and prepared to leave. He gestured to the phonograph. ‘I’ll leave you in peace with your grief,’ he said. ‘“Wenn dein Mütterlein”, wasn’t it, the song I interrupted? … Oh, light of your father’s life-a joy lost too soon. I don’t have that quite right-but near enough, I think. My condolences, de Pacy.’

De Pacy looked uncomfortable as he murmured his thanks. ‘You know who it is, don’t you?’ he persisted, walking to the door with Joe.

‘I’m almost certain. But I do nothing without firm proof. And this I hope to have in my possession,’ he smiled and continued, ‘before nightfall. Or I risk the grave displeasure of Lady Moon and her devoted acolyte!’

De Pacy groaned. ‘Much longer in this madhouse, Sandilands, and you’ll be as barmy as the rest of us. Hang on to what’s left of your wits, man!’

Joe walked swiftly down the stairs to the reception room where the manservant was standing waiting by the door.

‘Thank you, Félix, I’ll find my own way back.’ And he added, in a spirit of mischief: ‘I think you may extinguish the candles now. And-leave the door open for a blast of air, would you? One could choke on the funereal fug in here.’

Joe stepped outside into the sunshine, seized on his sanity with both hands and breathed in a deep, clean lungful of the breeze blowing from the pine-clad hills.

Joe stood for a moment, trying to shake off his bleak mood, and was surprisingly uplifted to spot a familiar figure in a red-striped dress striding over the drawbridge and heading towards him.

‘Dorcas!’ he shouted and went to meet her. On impulse he seized her and swung her round his head like an infant. ‘You arrive in time to save my sanity, child!’

‘Gracious, Joe,’ she said, wriggling to the ground. ‘What’s got into you ?’

‘Other people’s madness is what! I’m reeling from a double dose. And your fresh face is just the antidote I need. Shall we fire up the old Morris, climb aboard and leave them all behind to kill each other off? I think it might be a kindness in the long run.’

‘Oh, I see! No arrests yet, then? I was hoping you’d have someone in a dungeon by now and be sounding the all-clear for the boys to come back.’

‘Not yet. But I do know who planned and carried out Estelle’s murder. My hands are tied in the matter. I can only report my suspicions to Jacquemin and leave the heavy stuff to him. But, tell me, miss-what are you doing up here? Have you deserted your charges?’

Dorcas smiled. ‘That officer who’s been asked to guard us all was an inspired choice! He’s a country boy and he’s set himself to chopping logs, repairing the out-house roof, feeding the chickens. The boys follow him everywhere, adoring. They have no father, you know, though they remember him. And their grandmother’s a widow too.’

‘And how are you getting along with the old girl?’

A broader smile greeted the question. ‘She’s wonderful-compared with the granny fate dealt me ! She’s their father’s mother and took them all in when Monsieur Dalbert died-belatedly-of wounds he got during the war, three years ago. She’s well able to keep the boys safe and entertained. It’s a small house and I thought I might be in the way but I think I made myself useful.’

As they spoke, they were making their way over to the great hall. ‘Look, Dorcas,’ Joe said hurriedly. ‘I’ve been busy but not so busy I’ve forgotten about your … er … commission. In fact I was in Avignon this morning in pursuit of your instruction, searching the archives of the local paper.’

‘With any success?’

‘Yes. Great progress! I have your mother’s name. I know the name of her village. It’s just a few miles down the valley. I thought I’d go and make some enquiries this afternoon if Jacquemin can spare me. We’re close, Dorcas. Very close.’

Dorcas stopped, turned and looked him straight in the eye. This honest gaze, he’d discovered, was usually followed by a whopping lie and he prepared himself to hear one. ‘Listen, Joe. For once, I’m going to say something sensible. Something you’ll want to hear. I’ve been thinking. You have far too much on your plate. Truly important things. It would be selfish of me to expect you to go on searching on my behalf and I want you to stop now. That’s really what I’ve come up for … to tell you this.’

Joe listened on, waiting for an explanation.

‘I want you to forget what I told you and that I ever asked you to find my mother. I’ve thought about it some more and I’ve come to a conclusion-that if I did find her, it would all be a mess. She mightn’t want to see me. After all, she did go off and leave me to be brought up by Nanny Tilling, didn’t she? She almost certainly wouldn’t want to see Orlando again. I expect his annoying ways were what drove her away in the first place.’

‘You’re not telling me everything, are you, Dorcas?’

She began to find the toes of his shoes especially interesting and was no longer able to meet his eye. Was she about to tell the truth or sink to a lower level of fibbing? ‘I think I don’t want to find her, after all. Seeing the boys-the Dalbert family-close up … well, it made me think a bit. These villages-they’re all much the same. If we found her perhaps I’d have to spend some time with her and whatever family she has. It would only be polite, wouldn’t it? I mean-“Hello, I’m the daughter you left behind thirteen years ago … Well, I could just stay a few minutes to get reacquainted …” It wouldn’t do. Would you think me a spoilt little twerp, Joe, if I said my heart would sink at the thought of living here? It’s not my place. It seemed to me that I had two choices and each ruled out the other one. I can’t have two lives in two different countries. And I’d die if I didn’t have Orlando and my brothers and Rosie and Aunt Lydia. And, before you say it-why didn’t I think of this before?

‘Well, I did. Of course I did. But staying here-it’s changed the balance somehow. And I think I’ve done a bit of growing up. There are other people in this equation with me, Joe, and I can’t cancel out their thoughts and feelings. They’re every bit as important as mine. I’m selfish but I’ve seen the error of my ways. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.’

‘They do say you should be careful what you wish for …’ he replied. ‘It’s not my place to offer advice or tell you what to do. I was enjoying the chase, I must admit, but I abide by your wishes. And don’t worry about the time. No charge! Consider instructions revoked. Sandilands off watch. Now go and find your family. The children are driving poor Orlando round the twist!’