A Darker God (27 page)

None of this, of course, accounted for her surprising accusation, her naming of Thetis to the inspector. Could the man have misheard? Misinterpreted a last message?

To test the degree of tilt necessary to provoke a fall, Letty began to lean over the low iron balcony, holding on to it with both hands. The top edge caught her in mid-thigh. Alarmingly easy for a tall, full-bosomed woman like Maud to topple over. One push between the shoulder blades would do it.

Letty caught sight of William Gunning below, waiting for a gap in the traffic to cross the square, and her heart thumped with joy. He looked up, saw her, grinned, and waved. She raised one hand from the rail to wave back.

She saw the grin on his face fade, replaced by an expression of horror. Across the width of the square, William howled a warning and held up two arms in a futile gesture to avert disaster. Her scream rang out as a pair of strong hands seized her from behind and thrust her upwards and outwards.

Chapter 23

K
icking with her heels and shouting in outrage, Letty found herself being swung around and hauled backwards to safety. A moment later she was set down in the middle of the carpet. White with terror, she whirled around and set about beating her aggressor on his burly chest, yelling abuse. “My! You didn’t learn
that
at the Ladies’ Academy,” said an unrepentant Montacute. “Oh, shush! Do stop fussing! Ouch! Now tell me—when you’ve got your breath back—did you catch sight of me? Did you hear me come in? Did you hear me creep across the carpet? Are you listening? Imagine—could you have turned in time to get a glimpse of me?”

The urgency of his questions and the ludicrous assumption that she wouldn’t at all object to having the life scared out of her in the cause of detection caught her attention. She released her pent-up resentment in one last vicious kick at his ankle and answered: “No. No. And—no. I was expecting you to come in, but with the noise outside and the distraction of catching sight of William across the square, I knew nothing until you grabbed me. Oh, my God! If that had been a serious attack I would have hurtled over headfirst, without ever catching sight of the one who pushed me!”

“And if you’d just had a quarrel with your cousin, had gone to the window to spy on her comings and goings … a taxi drawing up … front door banging open … lots to draw your attention …”

“Enough to make you put down your knitting in the middle of a row.” Letty pointed to the bundle on the sofa.

“You’d assume it was
she
—the only other person in the house apart from the staff—who’d crept up and pushed you. If you survived the fall long enough to tell the tale …”

Letty looked into the inspector’s face. Grim and doubtful. But the darker emotions were increasingly being pierced by shafts of a brightness she could only interpret as hope. The certainty Letty felt—that whatever Thetis was guilty of, this particular crime could not be laid at her door—was instinctive and strong. And the best way of communicating this to the policeman was to maintain a quiet calm. A cerebral rather than an emotional pressure was what she would apply.

“And if you’d just picked up the sword she’d already attacked you with?” she suggested. “I think it’s possible that Maud really, genuinely, perceived herself to be under attack from her cousin and assumed—and who can blame her?—that she’d been pushed over by Thetis, don’t you?”

“Will you accept a grovelling apology for alarming you? I treated you with the familiarity and unconcern I would have shown to a colleague and not a delicate female. And I wonder, Miss Talbot—Laetitia—would you be prepared to quote this experience in evidence at her trial? If it should come to that,” Montacute asked, almost humbly.

Quite sure she had located the inspector’s Achilles’ heel, Letty managed a weak smile. “I’ll do my best to play down your Hunnish behaviour, Inspector—Percy. And I’ll stress the experimental value of my hideous experience. For the sake of truth—and Thetis, of course.”

A pounding on the stairs was followed by the eruption into the room of William Gunning.

What had she expected? An icily polite: “I say, old chap, would you mind explaining yourself?”

In three strides he was across the room and clutching Montacute by the throat.

Montacute was the younger and stronger man but, caught by surprise in a rare moment of apology and gratitude, he could not immediately summon up the strength to fight back against the blazing fury shaking and crushing the life out of him. The inspector managed at last to bring his hands up and tried to prise the fingers from his neck. Sinewy, calloused fingers which had spent the last six months gripping a pick and a shovel were not so easily dislodged; it was Letty’s voice shouting in Gunning’s ear that finally made him release his grip.

Montacute, purple in the face, staggered back gasping and choking as Letty flung both arms around Gunning, pinioning him in a tight embrace, murmuring to him quietly.

“Tea?” said Dorothea from the doorway. “Ah, yes! There you are, Mr. Gunning! I thought I caught sight of you arriving to join the party … I brought a third cup. I’ll just put the tray here on the low table, shall I, Miss Laetitia, and leave you to get on with it?”

    “Damned thoughtless behaviour! Inexcusable! Not at all what the public expects from a Scotland Yard detective officer,” croaked Montacute. “Please—both of you—accept my apologies.”

To save the inspector’s voice, Letty had undertaken to summarise for Gunning the events of the previous evening, culminating in the arrest of Thetis in the morning.

“Yes, yes,” said Gunning, impatiently. “All that you says,
Montacute. Still—your unconventional demonstration does reveal two important things. Here, trickle some tea down the old gullet. It may help. Ah! I see we have some Hymettus honey on the tray … Splendid! I’ll melt a spoonful in your cup, shall I? There you are, try that. You’ll be singing soprano again in no time. Now,” he went on as they settled around the table, “I had the story of poor Maud—chapter and verse—from Dorothea this morning when I rang to enquire after her. I set off at once to Letty’s digs to tell her the distressing news, only to find from Mrs. Rose that the girls had both been escorted to the local jug by Montacute. No joy there!”

“But they did at least tell you where we’d gone?”

“Yes. I belted along back here in time to witness a balcony scene worthy of the pen of Raphael Sabatini or the cameras of Hollywood. Were you fancying yourself as Captain Blood, Montacute? Quite deplorable—but it does establish two things. Firstly, that Maud could well have been unaware of the identity of her attacker and assumed it to have been Thetis, who is, as we speak, unjustly banged up on the inspector’s authority. Am I getting this right?”

“More or less, Padre, more or less,” said Montacute heavily. “But—
two
things, you said? Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed?”

Letty smiled. The Reverend Gunning had this effect on people, even ones of decided character and made-up minds. They always ended by conceding that he might just have something there and sliding into a conversation with him.

“Secondly: Anyone below, watching the building—as I was just now—would have had a clear view of the attacker. You had to come out of the shadows onto the balcony and show yourself, Montacute, in order to be in grabbing or pushing range. I saw you clearly. I think you saw me … Broad daylight, I agree, but I note there’s a light right outside.”

The inspector was scribbling hurried notes and muttering.

“Yes, of course. One of those newfangled lamps. The head of it is at second-floor level. It would have illuminated the scene after dark.”

Letty was certain that he would return to the house at the exact time of the tragedy, meticulously noting angles and lighting. Questioning passersby. She began to feel more hopeful about Thetis’s case. With the victim’s identification set aside and now the possibility of an unknown attacker being revealed, it would surely not be long before the prisoner was released—at least on bail. She said as much.

Montacute looked at her strangely. “She’s safe where she is,” he said, mystifying both of them. “And we’d do well to wait and see what the rest of the day brings.”

The next minute brought the lawyer. Dorothea announced that a young gentleman had arrived and was below in the hall. She handed a card to Letty.

“Oh, they’ve sent Benedict. Show him up to the library,” said Letty. “That’s where Andrew always saw his business associates. We’ll all go along and meet him there.”

“All?” the inspector protested. “I’ll see him by myself.”

“Are you sure? I think you’d make him clam up, Percy,” replied Letty lightly. “He knows me. We’ve shared an Italian ice cream at Bertorelli’s in Academy Street. In my presence, he may be prepared to make confidences he would otherwise censor. Why don’t we ask him?”

They moved to the library and arranged the chairs in an informal group about the desk. Letty, who had met Benedict Benson socially in the spring, made the introductions. The young man was in his late twenties and impeccably turned out from sleek dark hair to shining shoes. He favoured each with a guarded but friendly look and a handshake. The Reading of the Will was a solemn occasion—a ceremony fraught with danger for the legal profession—but, Letty guessed, he could only be feeling reassured by his reception. Here were no disturbing
tears on show, no squabbling relations to put a lawyer off his stride. Simply a nice girl he was acquainted with, a British policeman, and a clergyman. All quiet and cooperative.

Montacute asserted himself by speaking first and bluntly. “Benson, your firm is eager to discuss the testamentary arrangements of Sir Andrew and Lady Merriman, who both—I take it you are aware …? Good! Husband and wife died yesterday within hours of each other. The circumstances are suspicious. It is highly likely that we are looking at one case of murder at least, probably two, and the evidence of the wills may prove vital to the outcome of the enquiry.”

Benson stretched uncomfortably and made to speak but the inspector rolled on. “If you would prefer to discuss your business with me alone in the first instance, I would consider that right and proper.”

“Not at all, sir!” said Benson, smiling around the group. “Do feel free to stay if you think you ought, by all means, but indeed, I would particularly like to include Miss Talbot and Mr. Gunning, as they feature in one of the wills. Miss Templeton also—if she’s about—might like to come in and hear what I have to say.”

Letty hurried to explain that Thetis was otherwise occupied at that moment and unavoidably detained elsewhere in the city but would find time to talk to him later.

Benson produced his briefcase, took out two folders, and laid them out on the desk. “Our firm has dealt with the Merriman estate for years from our London office … old and valued clients … It is only recently, within the last three weeks, that there has been activity in the will department. First Sir Andrew rewrote his requirements. And signed the new will, of course. Lady Merriman followed suit a week later. It was a close-run thing getting it prepared to the point of signature within her time limit, but we managed.”

“Time limit?” Montacute questioned. “She was pressing you to conclude, are you saying?”

“That was our impression.”

“Did you form an opinion as to the reason for her haste? Could ill health have been a factor?” the inspector offered. “It very often
is.”

Letty sighed and Benedict, avoiding her rolling eye, said tactfully: “Yes, of course. Always a possibility. But it is not my place to speculate. You must seek advice elsewhere.”

“Or could it have been a reaction to the rewriting of her husband’s will?”

“Again you ask me—and I refuse—to speculate, Inspector. However, some might think the timing is suggestive,” the lawyer finally admitted. “But you will draw your own conclusions when I’ve disclosed the contents. You’ll find everything becomes very clear. I don’t mean to be evasive—but I think you’ll find a pattern emerges. And, before you ask, I have no idea whether there was collusion between husband and wife. They did not confide such matters and I did not enquire. It is not our business to understand our clients’ domestic circumstances, merely to expedite their legal requirements. So, we have here on the desk two legal, binding, and all the rest of it, last wills and testaments.”

“And you can read them out to us?” asked Letty.

“No reason why not. Everyone here assembled has an interest of some sort. Others not present also have an interest, of course. But all will be explained when the contents are read out following the funerals. And perhaps someone will acquaint me with the details of that when they are known?”

He looked to Letty for an answer and she nodded.

“Sir Andrew died first, so I will deal with him first.” Benson began to read out the will.

The inspector interrupted him. “I’d be most grateful,
Benson, if you’d just give us the highlights. I will, naturally, take away a copy for further and deeper study later.”

“Very well. The recipients of his cash, I suppose you mean?” A tight smile accompanied the blunt remark. “Who gets what? Te tum, te tum … The staff, old retainers, both here and at home in London, are most generously rewarded. The ones here in Athens may be of some interest? Every servant, indoor and outdoor, is to receive twenty pounds down to and including the boot boy, and Mrs. Dorothea Stephanopoulos receives two hundred pounds … I say, shall I skip the smaller bequests?”