Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall (28 page)

“You mean he mowed her down and ran off? It was a hit-and-run?”

“No one knows where he is,” I said. “He's disappeared.”

“You heard from Valentine on Tuesday,” said Mum. “Remember?”

“Yes.”

“And Joyce died on Monday night—”

“I think that's why he called me,” I said, recalling his urgent message. “Perhaps he was going to tell me about Joyce.”

“I wish you'd told me all this,” Mum grumbled. “Why am I always the last to know?”

“Do you think that Valentine may have gone back to the field the following day and bumped into Patty? Perhaps there was a disagreement.”

“That would assume that Patty knew that Valentine had been involved in her mother's accident.”

“You're right,” I said. “And we don't know that.” I thought again. “Angela told me that Patty is famous for lawsuits and even sued the vicar. What if—?”

“No, I don't like that theory.” Mum frowned then gave a yelp of excitement. “I know! What if Valentine saw Sir Maurice at Hopton's Crest! Sir Maurice was so angry about this railway line that he led Valentine to his doom in Coffin Mire.”

“Now you're being silly,” I said.

“Of course, it could be one of those old Roundheads lying there.”

“From over three hundred and fifty years ago?” I said. “I doubt it.”

“Look at Lindow Man.” Mum warmed to her theme. “He fell into a peat bog in two
B.C.
or something and, voil
à
, centuries later he's discovered! Perfectly preserved.”

“But in this case, the hand was sticking out,” I said. “And if it had been one of those Roundheads, the hand would have been skeletal.” I shuddered with disgust. “Can we talk about something else?”

“No. Seriously. It could be a Roundhead. With all the rain we've been having, the water levels must have shifted. The hand could have just popped up yesterday.”

“Well, I hope you're right—but it doesn't explain the fancy shoe. Where did you put it?”

“In that piece of newspaper.” Mum gestured to a package wrapped in Wednesday's edition of the
Daily Post
on the floor next to the oak dresser. I could see the photograph of my face on the outside. “Someone has big feet. It's a size eleven.”

Lavinia burst into the kitchen. “Frightfully sorry to interrupt—”

“You've heard about the hand already?” said Mum.

“Hand? What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” said Mum. “Tea?”

Lavinia shook her head. Dressed in her usual riding attire with her blond hair clamped under a hairnet, she looked even plainer than usual.

“Something terrible has happened,” she said.

My stomach flipped over. “Has Harry run away again?”

“What?” Lavinia looked startled. “Oh. No. Why? Of course he hasn't. No, it's—” She seemed jittery. “If it's not too much of an inconvenience—”

“Do you want to talk privately, Lavinia?” Mum said, pointedly dropping the title. “Kat was just going out, weren't you?”

“Mum, the police will be here any minute.”

“The police?” Lavinia's eyes widened. “We don't need the police!”

“We do need the police,” I said, gesturing to Mum to say something but she just waved me away.

“This is important, dear,” said Mum. “Just give us a moment.”

“More important than someone laying dead in a bog?” I exclaimed.

“What is she talking about?” Lavinia cried. “Who is dead? Where?”

“In Coffin Mire,” said Mum.

“Oh.
That
. The mire is riddled with bodies. Rupert found one last year.”

“See!” Mum shot me a smug look. “It
could
just be a Roundhead.”

Lavinia waited for me to leave the kitchen. As I pulled the door closed I overheard her say, “Benedict has gone.”

“Gone?” Mum cried. “Gone where?”

“I don't know. He just disappeared yesterday.”

“Oh dear.”

My stomach lurched again. Benedict had disappeared. This was a conversation I was not going to miss.

In the corridor next to the kitchen was a walk-in cupboard where I could eavesdrop through the flimsy wall. I'd discovered this quite by accident one day when the plumbers were called about a blocked pipe and I had been clearing it out.

“Have you tried to phone him?” I heard Mum say.

“Of course I have,” said Lavinia. “His phone must be switched off.”

“Oh dear.”

“It's too maddening for words.” I heard the scraping of chairs and what sounded like a peculiar mewing noise. I wondered if Lavinia was crying.

“Have a cigarette,” said Mum.

“I don't smoke.”

“Nor do I.”

There was a pause—presumably they were both lighting up.

“I'll open a window. Kat can be such a tyrant. She hates me smoking.”

“So does Rupert. Oh, Iris! I'm afraid I've done a frightful thing.”

“Let's try to stay calm and not panic,” said Mum. “When did you speak to Benedict last?”

“Yesterday.”

“What time?”

“Just before lunch. He seemed very agitated.”

“Oh dear.”

“Why? Why do you keep saying, ‘oh dear'?”

I pressed my ear against the wood. I hoped Mum was right about her Roundhead theory but if not, perhaps it wasn't Valentine laying there after all. Perhaps it was Benedict.

“Maybe Benedict has done a runner,” said Mum.

“A runner? Why would he do that?”

“He's run off with all our money.”

“Has he? Good grief! How do you know?”

“He hasn't? I thought … never mind.”

“No. This has got nothing to do with money,” Lavinia went on. “This is far more serious.”

“How can it be more serious than money?”

“Benedict gave me an ultimatum otherwise he threatened to tell Rupert everything.”

“An ultimatum? What kind of everything?” I could detect the change of tone in my mother's voice and suspected she was whipping out her Post-its. “What exactly did Benedict say to you?”

“I knew you would understand. You write about love and relationships in your wonderful books and … well.”

“I
am
a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to that sort of thing,” Mum said. “All I can tell you is to follow your heart.”

“Don't be ridiculous!” Lavinia exclaimed. “Our sort never follows our heart. We have our duty to perform and besides, I love Rupert. I love him desperately.”

There was a silence. I could almost hear Mum's brain trying to process this new piece of information. I knew I'd been right about Lavinia being devoted to Rupert.

“So … since you are
not
having an affair with Benedict,” said Mum. “What hold can he possibly have over you?”

“I suppose I was angry with Rupert for going off to London without a single explanation,” Lavinia said. “We had the most awful fight.”

“Over Benedict?”

“No! Not over Benedict! Why would we argue over Benedict? It happened years ago.”

“So you've got nothing to worry about.”

“Of
course
I've got something to worry about, Iris.” Lavinia was getting hysterical. “I made a terrible mistake and I apologized.”

“So you
did
have a fling with Benedict?”

My head was beginning to spin trying to keep up.

“It was more than a fling.”

There was a distinct pause. I suspected Mum was worried about saying the wrong thing. “Why don't you tell me what happened so you can get it off your chest?” she said finally.

“Are you sure it won't bore you?”

“Of course not. You can trust me to be discreet and not tell a soul.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I checked my watch. It was nine-fifteen. The police would be here at any moment. Mum and I had seen a hand in the mire and here she was discussing Lavinia's love affair—or whatever they wanted to call it.

“I met Benedict again after Rupert married that frightful servant girl, Kelly,” said Lavinia.

“Ah yes. They eloped during your New Year's Eve party—”

“Oh. You knew about that?”

“Not all the details,” said Mum quickly. “I'm just trying to get the backstory straight.”

“Benedict was a school chum of my brother Piers so I've known him since I was five,” Lavinia went on. “
Hopeless
with money. When Thornton Park sold he invested what was left—which was quite substantial I must say—in all sorts of ridiculous schemes. He even bought a luxury hotel on Pemba Island.”

I stifled a gasp.
Pemba Island?
There couldn't be two islands of the same name. Valentine even had this key fob stamped Pemba Island. He'd also suggested that Laurel, from Ogwell Car Hire, should stop there on her birthday trip to Africa.

This was no coincidence. Something was going on.

“Where is Pemba Island?” said Mum.

“It's part of the Zanzibar Archipelago,” Lavinia said. “Piers took me there on hols. Thought it would do me good to get away from the scandal. I suppose Benedict was a rebound of sorts—”

“He was a transitory object.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“But he wanted more?” Mum ventured.

“Yes!
Exactly!
” Lavinia said. “But I
was
frightfully fond of him. If Rupert hadn't been around—”

“But Rupert
was
around,” said Mum. “Did you and Benedict stay in touch after that?”

“No, of course not. I hadn't seen Benedict for yonks,” said Lavinia. “He suddenly called me out of the blue to tell me he was back in the country—”

“And wanted to see you again?”

“Things hadn't gone well abroad and he wanted to make a fresh start. He'd formed an environmental consultancy firm and heard about Operation Bullet.” Lavinia blew her nose. “He wanted to help. He didn't want Honeychurch to go the same way as Thornton Park.”

“Only Thornton Park became a retirement community,” Mum pointed out.

“Oh. That's true.” Lavinia paused—probably to take another drag on her cigarette. “Benedict asked if I was happy—and of course I
am
happy but Rupert isn't the easiest person to live with.”

“Well he
has
got a bit of a wandering eye,” said Mum with her usual tact.

“Oh—well, yes, there is that.” Lavinia sighed. “I should never have agreed to see Benedict again.”

“You started an affair.”

“No!” Lavinia sounded shocked. “Nothing like that.”

“Affairs don't have to be physical things, Lavinia,” said Mum. “Sometimes a mental affair, a meeting of the minds, a mutual love of similar things, is far more dangerous than a quick romp in the hay.”

There was another odd gulping noise. “Benedict told me that when he saw me again it felt as if someone had taken his heart and squeezed it so hard he couldn't breathe. He said—and this is frightfully embarrassing—that his head actually began to spin because he'd forgotten how beautiful I was. Or something. He said he thought he had gotten over me but realized he hadn't. He told me he couldn't live without me.”

“That's lovely,” said Mum. “Can you repeat all that please? But slowly, dear.”

Lavinia did—several times, in fact. Clearly she didn't realize that Benedict's protestations of love would end up immortalized on paper.

“Oh, I knew you'd understand,” Lavinia said.

“So what hold can he have over you now? Is Rupert a jealous, violent man?”

I had begun to wonder the same thing myself.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think his lordship might have harmed Benedict in any way?” Mum went on. “Perhaps he found out?”

“No, he couldn't have! I'm
ab-so-lute-ly
positive he doesn't know. We've been frightfully careful. And besides, Rupert is in London. No—” She gave a heavy sigh. “I'm just worried. What if Benedict does something silly?”

“Like what?”

“Well. He did threaten to kill himself—”

“Kill himself?” said Mum sharply.

“Yes! He tried before. When I left Pemba—”

“How? Think carefully now,” said Mum. “Pills? Drink? A gun to the head … throwing himself into a swamp?”

“Oh! I can't … I don't want to—”

“Because it's strange that you should mention suicide,” Mum said. “There was a pair of shoes found at the scene.”

“Mother!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I tore out of the cupboard.

“Would you happen to know what size shoe your—”

“Don't! Stop!” I yelled as I burst into the kitchen to find Mum already unwrapping the package on the table.

But I was too late.

 

Chapter Twenty-four

“Mr. Chips found this shoe down at Coffin Mire,” said Mum.

“Mum!” I protested again. “Please don't!”

Lavinia sprung to her feet, eyes wide and hands flapping in horror. “Oh! Oh!”

“We couldn't reach the other shoe and—”

Lavinia crashed to the floor in a dead faint.

“Good heavens. And she didn't even look at it.” Mum looked stunned. “Were you eavesdropping?”

We helped Lavinia to her feet and sat her on the kitchen chair. Mum held Lavinia's head down between her knees until she began to struggle. She handed her the hip flask from the oak dresser. “Drink up, dear,” said Mum. “Mrs. Cropper's cherry brandy will make you feel better.”

Lavinia took a deep draft. “Benedict's dead, isn't he?” she whispered. “He threw himself into Coffin Mire because he loved me. He drowned … because he loved me.” Lavinia thrust her hand into her mouth and suppressed a whimper.