Читать книгу Diamonds of Death - Vivian Conroy - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Lady Alkmene Callender pulled the dark brown hat with the sequinned band over her hair and looked in the tall standing mirror. She tilted her head to the right and then to the left, admiring the reflection of the light on the sequins. Still, dark brown had never been her favourite colour. ‘Is the same hat available in blue?’ she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear so she could see her new earring.

‘I think you should just be wild and splash out on the one with the ostrich feathers,’ her friend Denise Hargrove said, pointing at the black hat with the fan of feathers attached to the back. ‘Your father will only find out about it when he is back from his trip, if he even finds out about it. I doubt he will go through all the bills accumulated over months.’

‘You don’t know my father,’ Alkmene said, pulling the dark brown hat off her hair and resting it on her hand. ‘One of his great joys in life is sitting down to check the bills and trying to find one little detail that is not in order. Like too much money paid for fish for a dinner or a mention of pineapple while he is sure that we never ate any since New Year’s Eve.’

‘If he has been away for months, how can he know what you ate?’ Denise asked with a hitched brow.

‘Oh, before he leaves, he hands out strict instructions to all the staff to run the household as frugally as possible in his absence. I am to be fed on nothing more extravagant than soup, meat with vegetables and a fruit dessert of the indigenous variety. Pineapple is out of the question, and so are hats with ostrich feathers.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ an ironic voice said behind her back.

Alkmene spun on her heel to meet the speaker’s inquisitive gaze. Since her adventure with Jake Dubois in Dartmoor looking for a missing heir and a cold-blooded killer, she had only seen him once, during a charity luncheon where she was representing her father, who was one of the charity’s patrons. Dubois had covered the event for his paper. He had barely acknowledged her, as he had been busy following an actress around who had become interested in the charity recently and was contemplating staging a play to benefit it.

Feeling thoroughly ignored, Alkmene had decided she did not want to see Dubois any time soon, and now seeing him perusing her hatless persona in what was supposed to be man-free territory, goaded her to no end.

‘Here to buy a hat for your sister?’ she asked sweetly.

Jake opened his mouth as if to ask since when she believed he had a sister, but then he noticed Denise’s wide-eyed interest in him and said meekly, ‘Just handed in the order at the desk. I would like to speak to you if it is at all possible. It is about…’

‘Phalaktae pelopenosensis,’ Alkmene said with a charming little smile. ‘Father will be so delighted that you managed to solve the mystery of its origin. I will write your results to him this afternoon. Denise, I am so sorry, but I have to run.’

She leaned over and gave her friend two air kisses, hovering before each cheek, so as not to disturb her make-up. Then she waved a hand and ran out of the store, Dubois in tow.

‘Phalaktae what?’ he asked outside.

‘Oh, I have no idea. I only made it sound like some Latin plant name. Denise knows next to nothing about green stuff, whether it is in the wild, in her garden or happens to lie on her plate. She will surely find some other friend she can force into buying the hat with the ostrich feathers so she can borrow it from said friend whenever she feels like it.’

‘Not as wealthy as you are?’ Jake asked cynically.

Alkmene smiled. ‘On the contrary. In theory Denise has more money than I will ever have. She is the daughter of Hargrove, the oil magnate, who is also dabbling in aviation.’

‘Ah. But what do you mean “in theory she has more money”?’ Jake asked, falling into step with her, his hands folded on his back.

‘Well, at the moment she is his only daughter, so she stands to inherit it all. But he is about to change that fact, having married a much younger woman who can no doubt bear him a male heir for all of his fortune. In that case Denise will probably be forced to marry a rich man to have any money to spend.’

She batted her lashes at him. ‘I thought you knew how that worked.’

Jake shook his head but said nothing.

Alkmene swung her arms energetically. Suddenly she halted, grabbing for her head. ‘Oh, dear, now I have left my own hat in the store and…’

‘You can go back for it later. I want to talk to you about a friend of mine.’

He sounded rather insistent, so she could hardly say no. Alkmene sighed. ‘If I don’t go back now, Denise will take my hat home with her and I will be obliged to go visit her to get it back. She is not so bad, but her stepmother is. She is always asking these rather awkward questions about my ancestors. About duels and stuff, you know.’

Jake grinned. ‘Madness in the family, by any chance?’

Alkmene cringed. Jake had no idea what a sore spot he touched with that casual remark. She said quickly, ‘Talk about your friend now, will you?’

He sobered at once and stared ahead. ‘Perhaps you have read about it in the newspapers?’

Alkmene tilted her head. ‘Let’s see. If it was an engagement, I might have read it, but I don’t recall it, because engagements never stick with me unless they are unconventional, but when they are, they are usually not announced in the papers but handled rather secretly because the family feels mortified. Now if it was business-related, a new venture in something adventurous…’

Jake halted her with a hand gesture. ‘Robbery gone wrong.’

Alkmene frowned. ‘I did read something about a theft outside a theatre, a gnarled figure taking off with a lady’s purse. Isn’t he the same one who robbed ladies earlier this year but then outside the church of St Mary of the Humble Heart? Did they not call him the hunchback of the Notre Dame then to make it more sensationalistic?’

‘Could be, but that’s not the one. I mean the robbery gone wrong at Lord Winters’ estate.’

Alkmene froze. Right on top of the remark about madness in the family this was very awkward indeed. She said slowly. ‘Lord Winters, who has returned from India after his father died? The one who is said to have…killed his wife while he was there.’

She knew full well there was only one Lord Winters and this was the one. But his untimely demise at the hands of a burglar was one violent death she had no intention of getting involved with. It hit too close to home.

Jake sighed impatiently. ‘If they claim he killed his wife in India, it is probably high society gossip. I am talking about the very real robbery in his country estate that turned sour.’

Alkmene frowned as if she had dredged it up from her memory. In reality the newspaper article had shocked her to the core. Winters dead, in exactly the same way as his late wife. The one he was rumoured to have murdered. It could not be a coincidence. ‘Oh, you mean the burglar who was caught standing over the dead body? The piece mentioned as an aside that this man is suspected of having perpetrated various daring robberies over the years, but he had never been caught. Until now.’

‘One of the finest professionals in his trade,’ Jake said.

Alkmene shook her head. ‘How professional can he be when he gets caught red-handed? And with a dead body at his feet too.’ She clicked her tongue.

Then she glanced at Jake. ‘You knew he was also behind the other robberies? I mean, you suspected him earlier? Did you write pieces on the earlier robberies perhaps, and had a hunch he was involved?’

Jake shook his head. ‘I knew he had committed those robberies. They were all trademark crimes.’

‘Trademark?’

Jake gestured with both hands. ‘Bearing certain identifying traits that mark them as his, like a signature underneath a document. But the police are too stupid to see it. In two cases they even arrested a servant as the culprit, because, and I quote, it was impossible to commit the crime from outside the house. But that is right what Mac did.’

Alkmene whistled. ‘Impressive. Never once caught and now like this. Kind of sour. But I guess when you stoop to murder, you do deserve to get caught, no matter how wonderful an artist you are.’

She glanced at him again. ‘Will you cover the trial?’ There was a chance then Anne Winters might come to London for it. She could probably avoid no longer what she had avoided before. But where a meeting with her cousin would have been rather painful in the past, it would now be even more so.

Jake shrugged. ‘Maybe. Right now I am more concerned with proving Mac’s innocence.’

‘Innocence?’ Alkmene’s mind recalled the details she had gleaned from the newspaper coverage. ‘I thought he was caught inside the estate in question? The safe in the room was open and the stones missing, a fortune in diamonds Lord Winters had brought with him from India.’ The infamous gems that had featured in the murder of the wife also.

Jake nodded. ‘Oh, Mac was there all right to steal the stones. But somebody had gotten to them before him and had killed Winters.’

‘You mean…he found Winters dead in the room and his intended loot gone?’

‘That is right.’ Jake looked at her. ‘They caught him on the spot, but not a trace of the stones either on his person or outside. He had not dropped them out of the window or anything. They looked everywhere in the garden.’

Alkmene frowned. ‘So there might be something to his story that he found the dead body after the real thief had left with the stones. Did they look elsewhere in the house for them? Among the servants, the family members, any guests that were staying there?’ Her thoughts raced.

Jake laughed. ‘Of course not. Like the police always do, they jumped to a conclusion. Burglar caught on the scene. Must be the killer. Where the stones are? Who cares? Lord Winters is dead, and this man can swing for it. Nice and neat, tied up with a red ribbon around it, open and shut from day one.’

Alkmene rubbed her nose. ‘But you do not believe that?’

‘Look, I have known Mac for years. He is a thief, yes, a master cat burglar – one of the finest in his art. But he is not a killer.’

Alkmene tilted her head. ‘Not even when he was caught out, cornered, when the victim stood between him and freedom? Would he not kill to ensure he could get away and not end up in prison? Most people would do a lot to avoid prison. And on the spur of the moment he might have grabbed something off the desk and struck out with it.’

Jake was silent.

Alkmene studied his profile. ‘You are not one hundred per cent sure he is innocent, are you?’

Jake sighed. ‘Mac loves his freedom. I doubt he will do well in jail. I cannot be sure he would not strike out, if cornered, just to get away. But if he tells me he did not kill Lord Winters, I believe him. I have to.’ He glanced at Alkmene. ‘Mac saved my life once. I owe him.’

Alkmene held his gaze, waiting for him to tell her more about it. But Jake merely said, ‘Acting on Mac’s behalf I have to start from the assumption that everything he told me is true and ferret out what really happened that night from there.’

Alkmene shook her head. ‘You can’t just mention in passing how this man Mac saved your life and then expect me to accept it and move on.’

Jake sighed. He walked a few moments in silence, then he said, ‘I told you before that back in Paris I looked into a crime ring called the Accountants.’

‘They stole from people who had themselves stolen these things.’

‘Right. Mac did a job for them on the Riviera. It was his favourite haunt: rich people, flaunting their wealth, acting carelessly. He wasn’t quite as professional then as he later became and he made a mistake one night and got arrested. Before he was at the police station, the car had to stop for a group of drunken men. Turned out they were hardly drunken and overpowered the policemen, cuffing them with their own cuffs and leaving them in the street. They took Mac with them and told him he could go free if he did a job for them. He did.’

Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘Original way of enlisting somebody’s services. But what does this have to do with you?’

‘Later when I was undercover with the Accountants, I met Mac. He was suspicious of me, thinking I was not quite what I pretended to be. When he overheard some of the men saying that they distrusted me and wanted to set a trap to get rid of me, he warned me. I was able to escape. I would certainly not have been the first journalist to be found dead in a back alley because of some story he had gotten too close to. Or the last. So I owe Mac my life.’

Jake took a deep breath. ‘What I learned about his character then is that he does steal from people, but he can’t stand violence, especially killing. Warning me meant I would get away with my story and might have exposed them all, including Mac. It was not in his own interest to save me. Still he did. That pushes me now to look beyond the scenario the police have jumped at. It is too easy to just assume Mac killed Lord Winters to get away.’

Alkmene nodded. ‘Makes perfect sense to me. So you have taken up his case? You intend to prove that somebody else did it? That might be quite difficult. I suppose the family is happy enough with the assumption the burglar did it.’

Jake nodded. ‘Yes. For more than one reason.’

Alkmene perked up at his tone. ‘Oh. What can that be?’

Jake halted and faced her squarely. ‘It is more than just a gut feeling, Alkmene. More than a belief in an old friend. I would have taken up his defence just based on my assumption that he would never kill someone, but I have more than that. An actual lead to another person who is probably the killer.’

‘How did you find a lead so fast?’

‘It came from Mac himself. I went to see him in his cell. He told me that he didn’t pick the Winters estate just because he had heard there were diamonds there. He had been alerted to the job, the possibilities. I think one may safely say he had been hired to do it.’

‘What?’ Alkmene leaned over to him. ‘Someone hired your friend to steal those diamonds? And then deliver them to him?’

Jake nodded. ‘And not just anybody. A member of the family.’

Alkmene held her breath.

Jake said, ‘That is why I need you. I have to act fast before the trail turns cold. I need to get inside the Winters household.’

Alkmene held his gaze. She sensed what was going to come. The muscles in her neck pulled tight at the prospect. She had managed to avoid this for a long time. Now all of a sudden she would have to make a new decision about it. A decision that might affect a man’s life. The life of the cat burglar whom Jake called a friend.

Jake said, ‘Mac told me a few things about the Winters family. I was rather surprised to hear that Lord Winters had been married to your mother’s sister.’

‘Half-sister,’ Alkmene corrected quickly. It was a part of her family history she rather preferred not to be reminded of. Her father’s reticence about the subject suggested trouble she’d better stay away from.

She said carefully, ‘They were not on very good terms with each other, if Father is to be believed. Of course it is all a long time ago. My mother died when I was just four years old. After that contact with Mother’s relatives has been rather irregular.’

She didn’t mention that Anne Winters, the only daughter of her late mother’s half-sister, had written to her several times upon the family’s return to England, asking her to come stay with them at the Winters estate. Alkmene had not quite understood why Anne was seeking her out all of a sudden.

Jake asked, ‘And you never felt the need to figure out if the rumours were true? About your mother’s half-sister being murdered by her husband? I can’t imagine that someone with an analytical mind like you would ignore a murder in her own family. You’d have to make sure whether it was just a tale from fanciful people or the truth.’

‘Maybe I ignored it just because it happened in my own family,’ Alkmene said. She hesitated a moment, wondering if it was wise to tell Dubois any more. His jibe about madness in the family had been far from funny. Rumours didn’t just say that Lord Winters had killed his wife, but also that she had acted quite strangely in the months before her death. That she had perhaps suffered from delusions.

And Anne’s last letter, begging her to come out for a few weeks, had sounded rather…strange as well. It had mentioned how the house made her so depressed – like it was sucking life away from her. That sounded quite fanciful.

‘Well,’ Jake said, ‘either way you are related to Lord Winters and since your father is away from home, and you sort of represent him, it would be expected that you’d call on the family to offer your condolences now that Lord Winters has died a violent death. As the estate is quite isolated, you’d have to stay with them for a few days. Else you will just have to invent a headache, a cold, some ache in your back, which will force you to stay for a few days. You have to get into that household and find out what you can about the possible suspects. Especially about George Winters. He hired Mac to steal the stones.’

Alkmene’s eyes went wide at this revelation. George was Anne’s brother, the youngest of two sons. The eldest, Albert, had upon his father’s death inherited the title and the lands.

She had never met any of these people. To call upon them to offer condolences might be appreciated, but a stay would be considered a little unusual. Then again, as Anne had written to her before asking her to come over for a few days, she could justify that she wanted to stay at least until the funeral. That would give her a few days. The opportunity was there for the taking.

But she was torn about it inside. On the one hand she could already feel the excitement of sleuthing again, like she had after poor Silas Norwhich’s supposedly accidental death that had turned out to be murder. The investigation had given a zest to her life that was normally sadly missing.

In this case she might even learn something about the late Lady Winters who had died far away from home. She had been her own mother’s half-sister. And perhaps she owed it to her mother, and the special bond of blood, to look into the matter.

On the other hand that was exactly why she was unsure. These people were family. Distant family perhaps, family she had never met before, people who were no more to her than names without faces, for whom she had little feeling. Still they were family. And now Jake suggested there was a killer among them.

Not to mention the possibility she’d learn her mother’s half-sister had indeed been mad before she died.

A madness that might have been passed on down the line.

To Anne?

Jake said, ‘You need not be afraid that you will be out there alone, in a house with people who could all be involved. I will be with you.’

‘How?’ Alkmene asked.

‘I will…’ Jake had to brace himself apparently to get the next words out. ‘Pose as your driver.’

Alkmene suppressed a burst of laughter. ‘As my driver?’

Jake looked sour. ‘I can hardly pose as your lady’s maid. I’ve already arranged for a car and given notice at the papers that I am following up on a story out of town and will not be around for a few days, maybe even longer.’

She looked at him. ‘Wait a moment. You already gave notice at the papers? Before you had even talked to me? You just knew for sure I’d agree to do this?’

Jake grinned at her. ‘I figured you’d enjoy some country air. After all, last time we went into the countryside, you shared all these idyllic plans with me to go paint by a brook and see excavation sites and… It didn’t quite turn out that way then, but hey, here is another chance, to do better.’

Alkmene made a slapping motion at him. ‘Cut it out, or I am not coming at all.’

Jake leaned over, his dark eyes sparkling. ‘Oh, you are coming, my lady. If it is murder, wild horses could not keep you away.’