Vivian Conroy - Diamonds of Death

Jake frowned as he surveyed her. ‘You look pale. Does it worry you that this is your deceased aunt’s old room?’

Alkmene straightened up. ‘Why should it worry me?’ Her heart was still beating in an irregular rhythm, but if she confessed any of her confusion to Jake, he’d just laugh at her. Think she was a rabbit, like he had thought before in Dartmoor.

She fetched the ruined garment from the bed and began to wet the tea stains over the bowl. ‘I agree it is odd, but it doesn’t bother me at all.’

Jake shrugged. ‘There seems to be a strange tense atmosphere in this place in general. I don’t think most ladies when pouring tea spill it all over their distinguished guests. She must be shaky somehow.’

‘I think she did it on purpose.’

‘What?’ Jake surveyed her with a frown. ‘Why?’

‘Either she wanted to end our cosy little tea party before it had begun, perhaps because of the questions I was asking about the death, or she wanted to get even with me for some reason. It felt like a child’s way of retaliating. Kicking into somebody, you know, throwing something all over him?’

Jake tilted his head. ‘Seems far-fetched to me. She is used to high society engagements. Whether she likes somebody or not, she can’t just go and ruin people’s clothes.’

‘You’d think not,’ Alkmene agreed. ‘Well, maybe it was just a way to avoid further conversation. I felt like I was just getting somewhere. She admitted she was up that night, walking about in the house, before Lord Winters died. She came to the study because she saw a light under the door and then found your friend standing over the dead body.’

Jake shook his head. ‘That is not right. Mac told me how he found the room. It was pitch dark. He stumbled over the body. He used a lighter to see around the room and noticed the safe was open and empty. Then people burst in and he was arrested. The light from his lighter can never have given so much light that it was visible under the door.’

Alkmene pursed her lips. ‘So Helena lied about having seen the light. She went to Lord Winters’ study for another reason. Maybe there is something to be discovered there?’

She dropped the stained skirt with a sigh. ‘I am no good at this. Take it along to the kitchen downstairs and ask some maid or the cook or whoever does the laundering here to look after it. Their new mistress stained it, so they should clean it up.’

Jake laughed softly. ‘At least now you admit to your deficiencies.’

Ignoring him, Alkmene looked at the boxes again. ‘It is odd that my aunt’s entire life is packed into those boxes that are now standing here in my room. Her clothes, her personal belongings. I never knew much about her. Now I am suddenly almost on top of her.’

Jake had picked up the skirt and was already at the door. He glanced back at her. ‘Are you sorry you came? Is it a problem?’ He didn’t sound teasing, but like he was genuinely concerned.

That actually made her own unrest worse.

Reluctantly, Alkmene shook her head. ‘It is not a problem. It is just a strange sensation, you know. For all of my life she has been like a shadow. I knew she existed but she was always so far away. Now she is suddenly here in my life. Or rather I am here in hers.’

Jake made a dismissive gesture with his free hand. ‘Don’t think too much about it. She is not important to us. We have to figure out which one of these people killed the late Lord Winters and framed my friend Mac for it.’

He held her gaze with a frown. ‘If I discover something worthwhile and want to share right away, I will sneak up here and put a note with the information…’ He glanced around for the perfect hiding place.

‘Don’t put it under my pillow or any place a servant might have any business with in my room.’

Jake nodded. ‘Behind that painting. No servant has business looking there.’

‘Remember you have no business coming to my bedroom either. You are a driver. Don’t arouse suspicion by acting out of character.’

‘I will only leave a note if it is really important. Take care.’ Jake walked out with the stained garment and closed the door.

Alkmene stood motionless, her hands folded in front of her. Now that Jake was gone and the bustle of their short interaction was over, the silence was stifling, descending upon her like a heavy woollen cloak, closing round her, taking her breath away.

In this deep silence a sudden sound filled the room, like a soft moan. It came at her from all sides, making it hard to detect what it was or where it originated.

Her heart pulsating in her neck, she looked around.

It took her a few minutes of concentrated listening to deduce it was only wind coming down the chimney and rustling around in the fireplace.

She exhaled in laughter at her own jumpiness. Of course somebody had recently been murdered in this house, but like Jake had explained to her on the way over, there had been a clear motive for that. The killer had murdered Lord Winters because he or she felt Lord Winters had to die. It did not mean that she, Alkmene, would be in any danger staying here.

Right?

Still thinking of the odd high-strung Helena, her violent husband Albert, demanding George who had actually hired a burglar to steal his own father’s stones, the nervous staff, she felt a shiver go up her spine and cold settle into her stomach. There didn’t seem to be a normal soul around this place. Just people who were all watching each other as if they were afraid for their lives, and scrambling to make sure they dealt the lethal blow first, instead of receiving it.

From an investigative point of view this was a good thing, because nervous people made mistakes, talked too much, might be persuaded to tell on others to save their own skin. She had to be happy that it seemed like something could be gotten here, and soon too.

But from a personal point of view, it just felt like a highly volatile household to be a part of, even for a little while.

Like sitting on a barrel full of gunpowder while a slow burning fuse led a spark of fire to it.

You never quite knew when it was going to blow up.

Chapter Six

Because the household was grieving for the dead master, Alkmene decided not to wear an evening dress to dinner, but a simple blouse and skirt, in dark tones. She selected minimal jewellery – only a thin gold necklace and a matching bracelet. She brushed her hair but didn’t do it up or decorate it. She wanted to look very plain and demure. Not a threat to anybody.

However, as she came down the stairs and saw the company awaiting her in the drawing room, she realized her mistake.

The brothers were both in dark suits, the likeness between them eye-catching as they stood discussing something, each holding a glass of a honey-coloured liquid in their hands.

Helena was just filling her own glass. She wore a deep red dress with a daringly low-cut neckline, drawing attention to the necklace of fine rubies she wore. The stones sparkled under the light from on high, as if there was fire within them.

Helena’s hair was brushed back and decorated with a fine net of golden filigree as if a painter had worked his magic on it. Her mouth was the same colour as her dress, her cheeks heavily powdered, probably to hide the spot where her husband’s hand had made the mark.

Alkmene hesitated on the threshold. The two men didn’t notice her, but Helena did. She fixated on her with her deep dark eyes for a few moments, giving her a critical once-over. Then she smiled as if she was certain she was superior in this new meeting, this new struggle for the upper hand. She came over quickly, her dress rustling. Standing in front of Alkmene, she reached out the glass she had just filled. ‘Sherry.’