Motive for Murder (15 page)

Whatever the reason, I didn't like it. I didn't trust Kate, or the effect she had on Matthew. If he really wanted her, would she come, or did she only want to tantalize him? I suspected the latter, and was disturbed. He had been hurt enough already.

Mike came and joined me on the sofa. ‘Cheer up, Emily, it might never happen!'

I looked at him sharply; his remark was altogether too apposite. He nodded towards Matthew and Kate. ‘Aren't we pally tonight?' he said in my ear. ‘To see them now, you'd never think –' he broke off.

‘Think what?'

‘Nothing, my pet, nothing at all.'

As the evening wore on, I tried to concentrate on Kate's laughing anecdotes, but gradually my head began to throb and by half­past nine I had one of the worst headaches of my life.

‘Honey, what is it? You're as white as a sheet.' Mike had finally noticed my face.

‘Probably reaction. I've got a blinding headache. Would you mind if I went to bed?'

‘Of course not – we all need an early night tonight.'

Mike came into the hall with me and took my face gently between his hands. ‘Goodnight, love. See you tomorrow?'

I smiled and moved away from him. ‘Have you no work to do on that farm of yours?'

‘Simkins can manage without me. I'll try to slip over during the afternoon.'

I nodded and started up the stairs. He watched me for a moment, then I heard him go back into the sitting-room.

I walked across my bedroom without putting on the light, opened the window, and leaned out into the wild night. The wind seized my hair and whipped it stingingly across my face. I snatched it to one side and held it with my hand, lifting my throbbing forehead to the blessedly cool caress.

Above me, tattered black clouds scuttered across a sky of polished steel and the moon seemed to rock crazily like a silver boat. Down in the garden the trees thrashed, frantic ballerinas flinging their branches from side to side in an anguish of supplication. Above the shrieking and moaning of the wind, the crash of the sea reached me. It would be full tide just about now. I imagined the churning, foam-topped waves sailing into the bay and washing over the murderous boulder that lay there. A spurt of rain spattered on my face like sudden tears. I breathed deeply, revelling in the earthy smell of the garden below me and the tang of seaweed in the salt-laden air.

When I finally closed the window, my hair was tangled and my head still ached, but I felt a little better. I undressed, washed, and lay down on the bed, listening to the sounds of the gale and thinking over the day's happenings. In my mind's eye the cigarette stub glowed luminously in the dark. Matthew had been very insistent that I should agree it was an accident. I shut my mind to that train of thought and saw again the vulnerable look in Mike's eyes as he knelt at my feet. No, I didn't want to think about that, either. Matthew and Kate, Matthew and Kate, ticked the clock beside my bed. There must be something I could bear to think about! Resolutely, I turned on my side and closed my eyes.

I was drifting in the limbo between wakefulness and sleep when directly below me I heard the front door slam. I leapt out of bed and over to the window. Mike was walking quickly to his car, head bent and coat collar turned up against the now heavy rain. The wind must have snatched the door out of his hand.

I watched him climb in and a moment later the headlights flowered in the streaming darkness. The car turned slowly, the great arc of lights sweeping prodigally over trees and drenched flower-beds, setting grotesque shadows leaping on the momentarily lit lawns. As the light swung towards the house, I pressed back lest my white face should be visible at the window. With a roar of exhaust the car leapt forward and turned right towards the main road. The rear lights shone like two evil eyes, then they too were gone.

Too late, I realised my foolishness in jumping out of bed. I was now wide awake. Perhaps a couple of aspirins would make me drowsy, I thought, turning to the dressing-table for my handbag. It was not there. I frowned trying to remember where I'd left it. It must be downstairs, but if I wanted any sleep at all tonight, I should have to go and find it.

I draped my dressing-gown round my shoulders and opened the bedroom door. I'd no idea what time it was, but a gentle snoring sound came from Miss Tamworth's room.

I had just started down the stairs when the sitting-room door opened, and Kate and Matthew came out into the hall. Matthew went to bolt the front door. Through the bars of the banisters I could see Kate quite clearly, standing in the middle of the hall. It was silly to stand here shivering – after all, I wasn't planning to steal the silver. I slipped my arms into my dressing-gown, pulled it tight, and was lowering my bare foot on to the next step when Kate said suddenly, ‘Matthew!'

Something in her voice froze my foot in mid-air, and I clutched at the hand rail to support myself. For my life I could not have stopped myself turning my head. Matthew must also have caught the odd note. He stood stock-still. Then, as I was about to creep quietly back to my room after all and wait until they were upstairs, Kate suddenly and quite literally flung herself at him. I caught the spasm that crossed his face before her hands dragged it down to hers. For a moment more he stood immobile and unresponsive. Then his arms went round her and he crushed her against him.

I turned, stumbled silently up the stairs and through the open door of my bedroom. I closed it soundlessly behind me and stood for a very long time with my hand still on the knob. The draught from under the door washed over my feet, chilling my toes and ankles and creeping higher up my legs, while I schooled myself to forget what I'd seen. It was none of my business – none.

Whispered voices sounded on the stairs, foosteps in the corridor, and closing doors. With an effort I at last detached my fingers from the door knob and crept shiveringly back to bed.

But not to sleep. The events of the day continued to revolve endlessly in my head: the crashing boulder and its choking cloud of dust. Kate's veiled threats. The look in Mike's eyes. Matthew and Kate. And back to the rock again: had its falling been pure chance – or was it levered over deliberately on to Kate and me below – levered by someone who had crouched there watching us while he smoked a cigarette?

Feeling decidedly underslept, I went down to the library the next morning to find Matthew, as always, there before me. I murmured something, seated myself with notebook and pencil, and waited for him to begin.

‘How's your head?' The abrupt question startled me into raising my eyes.

‘Better, thank you.'

‘You look appalling.'

‘Thanks,' I said with dignity.

‘Emily, would you rather knock off for today? You had a pretty gruelling time yesterday.'

But I'd had enough of my imaginings during the night; I didn't want to indulge in them all day as well.

‘No, really, I'm fine, thank you. I'd rather – get on.'

‘Well, if you're sure, because I'd like to make up the time we lost yesterday.'

He pulled a pile of papers towards him, leafed through them, and started to dictate. His voice droned on and on, without expression. My pencil flew over the paper, but I had to fight to keep my eyes open.

At ten to twelve the door opened without ceremony and Kate appeared. ‘Good morning, Emily.'

‘Good morning.'

‘Darling, will you take me to the Harbour View for a drink?'

‘I'm sorry, Kate, I promised to meet Tom Francis; he wants to show me an old manuscript he's found. I'll take you tomorrow, if you like.'

‘I might not be here tomorrow.'

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

‘And there's something I want to speak to you about – something important.'

He glanced at his watch, ‘It will have to be after lunch, then. I must go; see you later.'

Kate still stood in the doorway. He waited for her to move aside, but when she didn't, he simply brushed past her. A moment later we heard the front door open and close. Kate said something under her breath which I didn't catch, turned on her heel and left the room.

I put a hand to my throbbing head. I'd lied to Matthew; it wasn't any better, and my eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. There was still an hour to lunch, and the most sensible course seemed to be to go and lie down. I'd set the alarm to wake me in time.

In my room I drew the curtains across the open window, slipped off my shoes and lay down under the eiderdown. Within two minutes I was asleep.

The alarm dragged me up from a great depth and it took all my willpower to force myself out of bed. However, by the time I'd washed my face and brushed my hair, I felt considerably better. I had also reached a decision: I would phone Gil and ask him to come down next weekend. If I could talk things over with him, perhaps they would fall into perspective and the sense of danger would fade.

Kate was still in a bad temper at lunch, and as Sarah was back at school, it was a silent meal. I was relieved when it was over, and went straight back to the library.

I worked steadily for some time, then, needing to check some facts, went over to the filing cabinet by the door and began to flick through the folders.

Footsteps sounded outside and I paused, expecting someone to come in. When no one did, I realized it must be Kate settling in her corner, and returned to my checking.

So engrossed was I that her voice, just the other side of the door, made me jump. ‘Matthew! Can you spare me a minute?'

I'd found most of the information I needed. I pushed the drawer of the cabinet shut with a clang, hoping to warn her I was in the library, but the ruse failed. Her voice came at the same moment, and its quality was equally metallic.

‘I realize it's seldom convenient for you to speak to me, but this time I must insist.'

I coughed, but again I was not heard. Moving hastily away from the door, I sat down at my desk. Surely they'd hear the typewriter.

But I was too late. Kate's voice reached me clearly: ‘I just want to tell you I'm getting married again.'

My fingers remained motionless on the keys. If I started to type now, they would know I'd heard them.

There was a pause. Then Matthew's said gratingly, ‘I must say it comes as a surprise. Your intention wasn't evident last night.'

Soundlessly I pushed my chair back and ran over to the window. I could escape that way. But the key was missing. I remembered Sarah playing with it over the weekend. Frantically I went down on hands and knees, feeling under Matthew's desk and the book shelves behind it, without success.

‘Oh, that,' she said dismissively.

‘Yes, that,' Matthew's voice was dangerous. ‘Why did you do it, Kate? To prove your hold over me?'

‘Emily said you wanted me back. I thought I'd see if she was right.'

I sank back on my heels, eyes widening in horror. This was worse than the worst.

‘
Emily
said – ?' Matthew sounded incredulous.

After a brief pause he went on. ‘Surely the question was academic, in the circumstances? But no doubt your ego needed appeasing, as always. Well, did I satisfy you? Or would victory only have been complete if I'd accepted your generous invitation? What then? Would you have laughed in my face?'

‘I was quite ready to go to bed with you.'

There was a silence. My nails bit into the palms of my hands but I felt nothing.

Then Matthew said, ‘I can't say I envy your
fiancé.'

‘It was just the old chemistry, wasn't it? We always had that, but nothing else.'

‘No, Kate, nothing else.' Impossible to describe the tone of his voice. It could have been utter despair. I prayed it was not. I crouched behind his desk with my hands over my ears, longing for them to stop, to move away out of earshot.

But Kate's voice reached me clearly. ‘Let's forego the hurt pride bit. The point is, I want to have Sarah.'

I caught my breath.

Matthew gave a harsh laugh. ‘I see. You want Sarah. Just like that.'

‘It will be a proper home for her.'

‘She has a “proper home” here.'

She said impatiently, ‘You know what I mean. I thought you'd be glad to be rid of her. Tammy will come as well, of course.'

‘You thought –'

‘Oh come off it, Matthew, let's not pretend. She gets in your way. You've no real feeling for the child.'

‘My God, Kate,' he exploded, ‘what do you know of my feelings? What do you know of anything about me? You've never troubled to find out. And I've had enough of these insinuations that I don't love Sarah. Of course I do, and I won't have her bandied about whenever it suits your convenience. You didn't want her at the time of the divorce, did you? Remember what the judge said? “Mrs Haig seems to be singularly lacking in maternal feelings. I think the child would be better with her father.” She'd have been in
your
way then. But now that you're going to set up house again, a pretty little girl might be an asset; soften up your image. Well I'm telling you – you're not having her. Sarah belongs here, with me.'

Kate said silkily, ‘If you're going to be difficult, Matthew, I have no choice but to revert to something distasteful. I'd prefer not to.'

‘Revert to whatever you like,' he flung at her. ‘You're not having Sarah.'

‘Have you forgotten St Catherine's House?'

‘I wondered when you'd get back to that.'

‘Aren't you even remotely curious?'

‘Frankly, no. And if what you're trying so delicately to suggest is either you get Sarah or you print your story, then, in the time-honoured phrase, publish and be damned!'

‘But you don't know what it is, do you?'

There was a long silence. Then Matthew said quietly, ‘I've a rough idea.'

‘Really? Well, how would it be if the story got out?'