Martin Edwards - The Frozen Shroud

Daniel put down the book. ‘You and Quin were together then?’

‘No, we met a couple of years after that, during a production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at the Theatre by the Lake. We discovered we had so much in common. Not only writing and acting, but a passionate desire for creative control. I had this dream of forming my own company, and when I suggested to Quin that he join me, he leapt at it.’ An indulgent smile. ‘He’s always so impulsive.’

Creative control, yes, Daniel understood its appeal. He’d become sick of the demands of the television world, and nauseated by its shallowness. Moving to the Lakes had given him a fresh start. At last he could please himself, not just other people.

Aloud, he said, ‘You have so few neighbours. Claustrophobic, surely, when you’re snowed in together?’

‘Very The Mousetrap , eh?’ Jeffrey chortled. ‘We don’t all live in each other’s pockets, thank heavens. Two of the six houses here are empty most of the year. We saw precious little of the property trader who owns Hallin House, even before he ran into trouble with the taxman. Same goes for the Bresnans who own the Corner House; they spend most of their time abroad in the sun. But the Knights are sociable, and so is Robin Park. As for Miriam Park, she’s a decent old stick in her way.’

‘Robin’s house is where Oz and Melody used to live?’

‘Fell View, yes, it’s on the far side of Ravenbank Corner. The Knights moved there a year or so before Shenagh Moss died. At that time, Robin lived with his mother at Beck Cottage. It’s the smallest house in Ravenbank, but she’ll only leave when they take her away in a box. Miriam’s husband was a musician who fancied himself as a businessman, but he ran up big debts. The only smart thing he ever did was to buy the cottage, and put it in her name. When he eventually went bankrupt, his creditors were powerless to force a sale. He died of a coronary, but at least Miriam kept a roof over her head. Working at the Hall as a housekeeper helped her to keep Robin in the style to which he’d become accustomed.’

‘So how did Robin come to buy Fell View?’

‘He didn’t. When Francis Palladino died, he left most of his estate to medical charities, but a fifth of the residue went to Miriam, in recognition of the kindness she’d shown, especially in caring for his late wife.’

‘A lot of money.’

‘Money doesn’t mean much to Miriam.’ His eyes twinkled, and he couldn’t resist adding, ‘If you saw the clothes she wears, you’d realise that. She stayed put in Beck Cottage, and used the legacy to buy Fell View for Robin.’

‘It was still a very generous bequest.’

‘Nobody was surprised. Francis didn’t have any other family, and Miriam was very good to Esme, as well as to him.’

‘Were she and Palladino …?’

Jeffrey guffawed. ‘You must be joking. Miriam wasn’t in the front row when good looks were handed out, and after he was widowed, Francis didn’t look at another woman until Shenagh Moss came on the scene. After Shenagh died, Miriam did her utmost to look after him, but he went into a steep decline.’

‘The murder broke his heart?’ Louise asked.

‘You could say so. For Miriam, it was an ordeal, watching him fade away. The money couldn’t make up for that. I didn’t care for Shenagh, but there’s no denying that Francis was besotted.’ He sighed. ‘No fool like an old fool, I’m afraid.’

‘She was a mercenary?’

‘Oh, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead.’ Jeffrey’s tone suggested he’d like nothing better. ‘What Craig Meek did to her was dreadful.’

‘You knew about Meek before the murder?’

‘Everyone did. Shenagh was a brash Australian, no British reserve about her. Frankly, she gave us far too much information about Craig Meek and how horrendously he’d treated her. As for her behaviour with Oz Knight, it was shameless. Melody is such a sweet girl, I felt so sorry that she was humiliated by a woman like that. It was inevitable it would all end in tears.’

‘But it wasn’t inevitable that Shenagh ended up battered to death, with a rough blanket thrown over her face?’ Quin was barefoot now, and he’d come down the stairs so quietly that none of them had heard him enter the room.

Jeffrey flushed, and downed the rest of his mulled wine in a single gulp. ‘Of course not. It was a human tragedy. I didn’t mean to suggest that she deserved to die.’

Daniel saw Quin’s eyes narrow, and guessed what was in his mind.

Yet that’s what you really believe, isn’t it, Jeffrey?

‘You look vile,’ Daniel said.

‘Really?’ Louise asked.

‘Creepy, disgusting, sinister …’

‘Flatterer!’

She laughed and did another twirl in front of her brother. Their large and airy rooms occupied a self-contained part of the house, accessible from a separate staircase leading out to the back garden. Jeffrey had explained with a shudder that the previous owners had actually taken paying guests.

‘I must say you’re pretty unpleasant yourself.’

‘Thanks.’

He bowed stiffly. The waistcoat of his Grave Groom suit was tight, perhaps because he wasn’t as skeletal as the ribcage overprinted on his black polyester top. The outfit was grey-brown cotton, with tattered gauze fabric. Overprinted gloves, bloody necktie, and a soft fabric top hat lay on his bed.

Louise had morphed into a Skeleton Bride, the perfect companion for a Grave Groom, or so the people at the fancy dress shop assured them. Black and white dress with a tie bodice, spooky veil, choker and glovelets.

‘You’ll knock ’em dead,’ he said.

‘You don’t think we’ll be bored out of our skull masks, trying to make small talk with a load of events management zombies?’

He laughed. ‘I know it’s not your sort of thing, but thanks for coming along.’

‘I’m probably making a huge mistake, pandering to your curiosity about those old murders. Mum would have been furious.’

After their father deserted them, Mrs Kind hated any mention of the police or criminal investigation. Whenever Daniel started watching crime shows on the television, she insisted on changing channel. Louise had been in her mother’s camp, until her own close brush with murder brought them closer together.

‘I’ve spent years writing and lecturing about historians acting as detectives. Since coming to the Lakes, I’ve found digging into past crimes is as fascinating as making sense of social history, or how the Empire worked, or …’

‘You’re a murder addict, worse than Dad ever was.’ She hesitated. ‘What do you make of the fact that such a small place — barely a hamlet — has seen two murders? It must be coincidence, but …’

‘One thing is for sure. Even if neither Letty nor Craig Meek was guilty, as everyone thought, the same person didn’t commit both murders. But it is a bizarre coincidence, and the fact that a blanket was put over Shenagh’s face indicates a connection. What it might be, God knows.’

‘Shenagh Moss’s death is a cold case. Tailor-made for Hannah Scarlett.’

He refused to rise to the bait. ‘We said we’d join Jeffrey and Quin downstairs at half six.’ He checked his watch. ‘Ready for the feast, Skeleton Bride?’

If Marc had ranted and raved, if his volcanic jealousy had erupted as so often before, Hannah could have eased her humiliation by flaying him with her tongue. He had no rights over her, he’d come to stand for everything wrong in her life. If not for him, she’d have put her career first; by now, she might be vying for promotion to ACC. However much he cared for her, it had never been enough.

Just as well it was left unsaid. No need to twist the knife. His aching silence only lasted seconds, but said far more than any protestations about lessons learnt, or promises to mend his ways. Pain and loss crumpled his face. The message was as vivid as a neon sign: I needed you more than you ever knew.