Nancy Atherton - Aunt Dimity and the Duke

Derek shrugged. “Whatever the case, the friendship didn’t last. The old duke died and Grayson came back to Penford Hall, while Lex went on to fame and fortune. Five years later, I was reading about them in the papers.”

“Wait,” Emma broke in. “Didn’t you meet Grayson at about the same time?”

“If you’re wondering whether I met Lex as well, the answer is no. I should think it would be self-evident. I was a grown man, with a ...” He faltered, recovered quickly, and went on. “With a wife and an infant son to look after. Hadn’t any time to waste hanging about garages with the likes of Lex Rex.”

A breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and a chaffinch streaked across the path. Emma watched Derek from the comer of her eye, saw his jaw muscles knot, his hands clench behind his back.

“Now, where was I?” he asked gruffly.

“Lex had gone on to fame and fortune.”

“Right.” Derek cleared his throat. “According to the newspaper accounts, Lex decided to pay his old friend a surprise visit. Treacherous things, country houses. Never know who’s going to turn up.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience,” Emma said wryly. “Do you have a country house?”

“Family does. In Wiltshire. Comes to me when the old man pegs out.”

“You don’t seem pleased by the idea,” Emma observed. “Don’t you want the family mansion?”

“Too many strings attached.” Derek’s mouth quirked in an ironic smile. “My father disapproves of my profession. I’m the son of an earl with the soul of a bricklayer. The lord of the manor is not supposed to get his hands dirty.”

“And a woman’s place is in the home. I’ve been hearing that since I was old enough to wear an apron. Ridiculous, isn’t it?” Emma picked up a stick and knocked the head off of a stray dandelion. “Your father should meet my mother. The world seems to be full of disappointed parents.”

“A good many disappointed children, as well, I’ll wager.” Derek’s smile softened.

“Please,” Emma said, “go on with the story. I’ll try not to interrupt.”

“Interrupt all you like,” said Derek, with a sidelong glance. “I don’t mind.” His curls tossed in the breeze and the sunshine made his blue eyes sparkle. Emma fumbled with the stick, then tossed it hastily away.

“Lex decided to surprise Grayson ...” she prompted.

Derek gazed at her a moment longer, then ducked his head and continued. “Surprise was on Lex, as it turned out, because Grayson wasn’t at home. Papers made a lot of fuss about this particular point, until it came out that Grayson had been in France, negotiating the repurchase of paintings his father had sold some years before. Grayson was understandably reluctant to advertise his father’s penury.”

“But if Grayson wasn’t home ...”

“His staff is awfully fond of him, don’t you think? Terribly eager to please?”

“I suppose, but ...” But it makes sense, Emma thought. It could have been a plot, with Grayson as the mastermind and the staff as co-conspirators. She thought back to her first evening at Penford Hall, to Grayson’s soothing, seductive words at the dinner table. She’d joined his cause without a second thought. If he inspired such devotion in a total stranger, what kind of fierce loyalty might he inspire in his staff? “Go on,” she said.

“Lex arrived, with his band in tow, and no Grayson to surprise. Fools got into his brandy, then decided to hoof it down to the Bright Lady.”

“That’s the pub in Penford Harbor?”

“Where we’re heading now. The band downed a few pints, jumped aboard Grayson’s yacht, and took it out into one of the worst gales Cornwall’s seen in fifty years. None of them were sailors, and the yacht was in poor repair. Miracle they got the ruddy thing going at all. But no one tangles with the Nether Shoals and lives to tell about it.”

“The ship was wrecked?” Emma asked.

“Smashed to matchsticks. The band ...” Derek’s lips tightened. “They searched, of course. Grayson came tearing back from his trip to mount his own search, as well. But the currents around the Nether Shoals are notoriously unpredictable, even in fair weather. In that storm ...” Derek shook his head. “Could be as far away as Spain by now.”

Emma drew her sweater more closely around her. “And the press gave Grayson a pretty hard time?”

“Had a field day,” Derek said. “Cro-Magnon musician perishes on aristocrat’s leaky yacht—it was tabloid fodder. Yet another scandal at Buck House took the pressure off, but not before some enterprising journalist discovered that Lex had been virtually penniless. There was no estate left, after all the bills had been paid.”

Emma wasn’t surprised. The scenario was a familiar one—too many rock musicians lived life at high speed, spending their money faster than they earned it. Emma frowned suddenly and came to an abrupt halt.

“Penniless?” she repeated. She batted at a fly that buzzed in her face. “Then what are we worrying about? If Lex was broke, why would Grayson ...” She hesitated, then finished lamely, “... do what you think he might have done?”

“This is the tricky bit.” Derek peered cautiously into the woods on either side of the path, before saying, very quietly, “Lex’s books—his financial records—were a bit of a mess. That’s what gave rise to speculation in the first place. No one was quite sure what had become of his money, you understand?”

Emma nodded.

“The tabloids lost interest, and so did I. But Susannah didn’t.” Derek glanced around again, then leaned closer to Emma. His voice sank to a whisper. “Apparently, she befriended a chap, a banker. Happens I know him. Very precise sort of fellow. Collects butterflies. Susannah asked him to look into things, and he came away saying that there was something odd about the way Lex’s accounts were set up. Nothing he could point a finger at. Just gave him a queer feeling that things weren’t quite pukka.”

“But how could Grayson—”

“Fiddle the books? No idea. Curious, though.”

Emma agreed. As they resumed walking, she murmured, “It’s a lucky thing Susannah’s friend never talked to the press.”

“Winslow?” Derek snorted. “Safe as houses. We were at school together. Hasn’t changed a bit. If it hasn’t got wings and antennae, he can’t be bothered with it.”

“I suppose that’s why she approached him. If Susannah had blackmail on her mind, she wouldn’t want to broadcast what she’d learned,” Emma mused. Question after question cartwheeled through her mind. Had Grayson lured Lex down to Penford Hall? Had the shipwreck been planned? Had the staff been involved? Emma knew enough about computer security at banks to know that no electronic records were completely safe from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be easy to break into private financial files, but it could be done. All you’d need was a fairly sophisticated ... “Hallard,” she breathed.

“Where?” Derek asked in alarm.

Emma shook her head. “No, Derek, I didn’t mean that. I just thought of a way for Grayson to syphon off Lex’s funds. What do you suppose Hallard’s doing with that laptop computer?”

“Hallard?” Derek said doubtfully. “Seems a bit dotty to me.”

“Hackers frequently are,” Emma replied dryly.

“Hackers?”

“Creative computer programmers,” Emma explained. “Sometimes called computer nerds. They’ve been known to break into systems just for the fun of it.”

“Fascinating.”

Emma nodded, but her mind was already on other things. “Were there any witnesses to the shipwreck?”

“Only a few,” Derek replied. “That’s another thing that has me puzzled. Five years ago, the village of Penford Harbor was virtually abandoned.”