A Question of Inheritance (20 page)

Hugo said, ‘Selchester’s puppets.’

‘Puppets?’ Freya said. ‘Oh, he was pulling their strings.’

‘And, if the four we knew about were typical, they danced to his tune.’

‘So just what did he know about Oliver Seynton?’ Leo said. ‘He wasn’t over-scrupulous about his dealings in the art world, but I doubt if that would have given Selchester much of a hold over him.’

Freya got up and began clearing the dishes from the table. ‘No, I don’t need help, thank you.’

She wanted to think.

Scene 2

Georgia stroked Magnus, who had leapt on to the bench beside her. Hugo took her notes and studied them, while Leo sat wrapped in calm silence. When Freya came back to the table he said, ‘You know something about this, don’t you, Freya?’

‘Yes and no. I didn’t know that Selchester knew Oliver. What I do know is that Oliver had something disgraceful in his past. To do with the war. And if my uncle had found out about it, then he would certainly have had a hold over him.’

Hugo was looking at her with some surprise. ‘Why didn’t you mention this before? You told us you met Oliver for the first time when he came with Sonia to do the inventory.’

‘I didn’t know anything about it at that time, and I hadn’t met Oliver until then. I only learned about it recently.’

Caught between a rock and a hard place was what she was. She couldn’t pass on what Dinah had told her, not without her permission. At the same time, if it had anything to do with a murder, then she couldn’t just keep silent.

‘I can’t tell you about it in any detail, because it was told to me in confidence.’ She looked at Leo. ‘You’ll know about that.’

‘There are secrets one has to keep,’ Leo said. ‘Not just the famous ones bound by the seal of the confessional. If this information was entrusted to you on the understanding that it would go no further, you feel it a matter of honour not to pass it on.’

‘You should tell the people of Selchester that,’ Georgia said. ‘A Selchester secret is one only half the town knows about. Can’t you tell us anything about it, Freya? Did this person have nasty habits? Did he keep mistresses or was it one awful guilty secret from the past, like he himself killed someone? Perhaps this was a revenge killing.’

That struck home. If Dinah had a motive, it would be revenge.

She addressed herself again to Leo. ‘Would you say that any one of is capable of killing in certain circumstances?’

‘Yes, unfortunately human experience bears that out.’

‘I know revenge is a dish best served cold, but I think if that was the reason for a murder, it would be done impulsively. I’d expect in those circs that someone would lash out, not plot a subtle crime.’

‘Someone here in Selchester might have wanted to kill Oliver out of revenge, is what you’re saying?’

Hugo’s voice was impersonal. Had he guessed?

Leo said, ‘Would this person have the knowledge to be able to tinker with the wiring?’

Dinah had worked as radio operator in the war. Didn’t they all have to know about wiring?

‘I can’t honestly say. During the war, almost everyone learned to do a lot of things that they wouldn’t have done before.’

Hugo was looking again at the entry in the ledger. ‘It’s extraordinary how your uncle’s influence reaches out from beyond the grave. I can’t help feeling that Oliver’s presence here and the motive, whatever it was, for his murder, is connected to your uncle.’

Georgia said, ‘What about that phone call Oliver made on Christmas Day?’

‘When he was so distraught?’ Hugo said. ‘I’d forgotten that.’

‘Would the local telephone exchange have kept a note of numbers called?’ Leo said.

Freya shook her head. ‘They aren’t supposed to. I mean if you asked Irene, she might remember a name or a conversation.’

‘That’s not something that she should pass on,’ Leo said firmly.

‘Of course not, but Selchester has its own rules; Irene and the other operators are great spreaders of news,’ Freya said.

‘The police could question her,’ Hugo said.

‘They could,’ Freya said, ‘but it’s fifty-fifty as to whether she’d tell them anything.’

Hugo made a face. ‘Having told the police I thought someone wanted to murder Gus and Oliver’s death was a mistake, I wonder whether they’ll take any notice when I turn up and say, “Actually, we think the murderer did want to kill Oliver.” And,’ he looked directly at Freya, ‘they’ll start to dig for dirt, looking for motives and in the end they’ll find out the information you want to keep secret, Freya.’

She said in a sudden burst of temper. ‘I wouldn’t shield a murderer. But I don’t think the person in question, however much hostility they felt towards Oliver, would murder him.’

Chapter Fifteen

Scene 1

The next morning, when Hugo had left for work, Freya buttonholed Leo, ‘We need to talk to Sonia.’

‘Isn’t she more likely to come out with any information if I’m not there?’

Freya said, ‘You have a lot of influence on her. I don’t think it’s your being a priest, although that alarms her – maybe somewhere she has vestiges of a conscience. No, she regards you as having extraordinary powers of perception. Which you do. If I talk to her alone, we’ll end up quarrelling. I don’t get on easily with her, although once I did. She’s built such a barrier around herself that it’s to find a way in. Sometimes when you are so familiar with someone you just run along the same tracks. You aren’t; you’ll pick up things that I won’t. And I daresay you’re as good as Hugo at telling when people are lying.’

‘Oh, I think you attribute too great a skill to me there, Freya. Many people do lie quite consistently. If it’s habitual, then their lies don’t mean so very much. But I have a feeling that Lady Sonia isn’t that kind of a liar. She seems to me the kind of person who skirts round the truth or avoids a direct question. She doesn’t really feel comfortable with lies.’

Freya thought about her cousin. ‘I think you’re probably right. She didn’t lie as a girl, but then she didn’t tell the truth either. So I suppose she hasn’t changed very much. And you’re right, some of us tell lies all the time.’

Leo said, apparently inconsequentially, ‘It is after all what novelists do. It’s a respectable profession, but you could say that they make their living by telling lies.’

Freya said, ‘I never looked at it like that. But yes, it is all making up stories, as our nurses used to warn us not to do. Stories told with the express intention of wanting people to believe them, at least until the book is closed.’

‘Sometimes in that fabrication, among those stories, there are grains of deeper truths. Reading novels is one of the ways we come to understand our humanity.’

Freya said, ‘I remember Hugo buying you an Agatha Christie for your birthday. I was surprised when I found that you were priest, as well as a distinguished scientist.’

Leo was amused. ‘Did you think I spent my time reading works of theology, when not catching up on the latest scientific publications? I read a lot of fiction for pleasure and relaxation.’ He paused. ‘Dinah sent up a book for me that I’d asked her for. The latest novel by Rosina Wyndham. I greatly enjoyed it. An enthralling story written by a first-class author. And one who knows her history. I couldn’t put it down.’

‘Hardly suitable reading for a priest, I would have thought. Rather too racy.’

He regarded her with amusement.

He knew. He knew she was Rosina Wyndham. How had he guessed?

‘I gather the author cherishes her anonymity,’ he said.

‘I expect she has her reasons.’

‘I expect she does.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I shan’t tell anyone your secret. I guessed you weren’t writing a family history last time I was here. I know quite a few writers, and I could tell you were writing a novel. And then your delightful Clarissa is so like your seventeenth-century ancestor. I put two and two together and there it was, Freya is Rosina. You must be doing very well from your books.’

That was true. ‘I’d have to get a job if I didn’t write. My private income after tax would barely keep Magnus in fish.’

‘Or you in dashing frocks.’

Freya felt that this conversation had gone far enough. ‘Let’s get back to Sonia,’ she said firmly. ‘She’s not with Rupert; he’s in Grace Hall, making important telephone calls. It’s inevitable that the news about Oliver being the intended murder victim is going to come out, and I expect he’s briefing the Conservative Party office and everyone else about it. I believe he’s more annoyed about being mixed up in a murder than he is sorry for Oliver. He doesn’t seem to be a man who cares very much for other people at all. I suppose that’s what will make him a successful politician.’

Leo said, ‘Where is Sonia?’

‘Mrs P will know. Let’s go and ask her.’

Mrs Partridge was in the kitchen, having set Pam to work preparing vegetables while she was stirring a pan of something on the stove.

Leo sniffed the air. ‘Smells delicious, Mrs Partridge.’

‘Do you know where Lady Sonia is?’ Freya said.

Mrs Partridge said, ‘I do, she’s in the South Drawing Room. She’s a pile of magazines with her and Pam just took her up some coffee, didn’t you, Pam?’

Pam looked up from her potato peelings. Her face was shining, ‘Oh, she’s got the most lovely magazines,
Vogue
and
Tatler
and all sorts. She said she’d leave them here when she goes back to London, and I can have them.’

‘Get on with you,’ her aunt said scornfully. ‘
Vogue
, indeed!’

Pam went back to her potatoes.

Sonia was indeed in the South Drawing Room, stretched out on a sofa and flicking through
Vogue
. She had a cigarette tucked into her long holder and a discontented expression on her face.

She looked up at Freya and Leo. ‘Do you want Rupert? Because he isn’t here.’

Freya sat down, and Sonia, clearly not wanting to be interrupted, ostentatiously held her finger to mark her place on the page. ‘What is it?’

Freya said, ‘Tear yourself away from
Vogue
for a few minutes, Sonia. There’s something we need to know.’

Sonia’s eyes narrowed. ‘We? Who’s this we? You and Father Leo?’ She gave him a baleful look. ‘What about?’

‘Oliver Seynton,’ Leo said.

Sonia heaved a loud sigh. ‘I know nothing about Oliver, at least no more than I already told you. And I don’t see why it’s any concern of either of yours, or Hugo who seems to have a propensity for putting his nose in where it’s not wanted, or that irritatingly curious sister of his.’

Freya tried another tack. ‘Did Selchester not give you any idea how he came by those pictures you claim are yours? Did Oliver have anything to do with them? You took him up to the attic, didn’t you, on Christmas Day? And it was after that that he started to behave so strangely. What upset him so much?

Sonia waved her cigarette holder in the air and closed her eyes in exasperation. ‘I really don’t know how my father acquired those paintings and I don’t much care. It was a canny move, because they’re worth a lot of money, thank goodness. And don’t start saying they should go to Gus and not me, I don’t want to hear any of that again. They’re mine and I won’t let anyone take them away from me. As to Oliver, who knows what made him go all peculiar. He’d never seen them before. At least,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘he might have seen the Picasso; he came over all odd when he saw that one.’

‘Did you know that Oliver was invited here the weekend your father was murdered?’ Leo said.

Lady Sonia’s eyes flew open. She stared at Leo. ‘What do you mean, Oliver was invited?’

‘Come on, Sonia,’ Freya said. ‘You must know that there were about a dozen guests asked for that weekend. Who would all have been here that night if it hadn’t been for the weather.’

Sonia said, ‘I have no idea who else was invited. It’s not the kind of thing that my father spoke about, and he was in such a foul temper that weekend anyway, over Tom. And once my migraine had started, he could have invited the whole of the bench of bishops and half the saints in heaven for all I knew or cared. What makes you think Oliver was invited?’

‘His name is in the housekeeper’s book. The names of all the guests were listed there. You know that’s what was always done.’

Sonia said, ‘Who’s been snooping in the housekeeper’s book?’

Freya was finding it difficult to keep her temper. ‘No one. It’s in the drawer in the kitchen where it’s been ever since Selchester disappeared. Mrs Partridge had a fancy to put down the guests this Christmas, so she took it out. Oliver’s name is there. My uncle would hardly have invited him if he hadn’t known him.’

‘I have no idea how he knew him, if he did. And he can’t tell you, unless you want to have a séance to find out.’ She glanced at Leo. ‘Sorry.’

‘I can think of more efficient ways of getting information,’ was all Leo said.

‘Anyhow, whatever Oliver was doing in ’forty-five or six, I don’t think he was dealing in pictures. But you’d have to find out from his colleagues and people who know him better. I scarcely know him. I just know that he’s very good at this kind of deal, that’s why I asked him to come up.’

Leo said, ‘Who told you that he was good at this kind of deal?’

‘I can’t remember. Word gets about – you know how it is. Maybe it was the Ancasters. I really can’t remember. Does it matter?’

‘You really didn’t have anything to do with Oliver?’

Sonia took a long draught on her cigarette and looked up at the ceiling, a deliberately bored look on her face. ‘Oliver Seynton and I did not move in the same circles. End of story. I’m not a bohemian. I do number a few artists and musicians among my friends, but I don’t have a wide circle of acquaintance in that world. I prefer to stick to my own kind.’

Freya exchanged a glance with Leo. Then she said, ‘Did you feel the slightest sorrow at Oliver’s death?’

Sonia’s lip trembled slightly. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, so many people die every day, so many people died in the war. Everybody dies. I didn’t know him, I didn’t care particularly about it, but I wish he hadn’t died here because it’s such a damned nuisance.’

Freya could tell from Leo’s face that he was no more shocked by Sonia’s apparent callousness than she was. There was a note of defiance in Sonia’s voice. She didn’t care particularly for Oliver, that was true, but something about him had upset her.

Scene 2

Hugo rang Emerson from his desk at the Hall. It might be unorthodox and not according to the rule book, but to hell with that. He was supposed to be checking up on Zherdev and Emerson was a valid source. He wasted no time with preliminaries, but as soon as he was put through said, ‘This isn’t about our Russian friend. It’s something quite different, a question to do with the art world. Have you heard of, or come across one Oliver Seynton?’

Emerson replied instantly. ‘Seynton? He works for Morville’s. Paintings are his main thing. Rising in his career, well thought of.’

Hugo knew that this was only half the story. ‘And?’

Emerson said, ‘And nothing. Why do you want to know about Oliver?’

‘Because he was found dead two days ago. And his death was what you might call suspicious.’

There a long silence and then Emerson said, genuine sympathy and his voice, ‘Oliver dead? Poor fellow. How did it happen?’

‘He was electrocuted. It wasn’t an accident; it was murder. It’s been in the newspapers. He died at the Castle.’

‘I never look at the newspapers over Christmas. I suppose you’re besieged by reporters.’

‘The weather kept the newshounds from London at bay, but I imagine they’re on their way here now.’

‘Electrocuted. Poor guy. Yes, I knew Oliver. What do you want to know?’

‘He may or may not have been the intended victim. That’s why I’m trying to find out more about him. Nobody seems to know much about him. He was at the Castle on behalf of Morville’s and couldn’t get back to London because of the snow; he hadn’t intended or expected to spend Christmas in Selchester.’

‘He was the kind of chap who kept himself to himself. That’s true.’ There was a slight hesitation in Emerson’s voice.

Hugo said, ‘Look, Oliver is dead. If you know anything about him that might be a reason why anybody would want to kill him, for goodness’ sake, tell me.’

Emerson didn’t answer directly, but instead said, ‘What’s it to do with you, Hugo? Surely if he’s been murdered, it’s a police matter.’

‘Let’s just say I’m working with the police on this.’

Emerson was making thoughtful noises at his end. Then he said, ‘I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and I certainly don’t have any direct experience on that side of the art world, but the word in the business was that Oliver was the man to go to if you had anything you wanted to dispose of discreetly.’

‘Do you mean stolen property?’

‘Good Lord, no. At least not as far as I know. More the kind of thing where someone inherits and there are various items they want to sell without the tax authorities getting wind of it. With taxes the way they are today, and some of these old families sitting on priceless treasures and so on, it happens.’

Hugo said, ‘But you have nothing to do with this?’

Emerson said, ‘I’ve very little to do with the business end of the art world. I’m a specialist. Quite a different area from what goes on with the dealers and the salerooms. Although they rely on our expertise.’

‘So Oliver wouldn’t come to you for advice?’

‘He might, as part of Morville’s. For anything he was handling privately, no.’ There’s was a moment’s silence and then he said, ‘I know that a lost heir has appeared, who’ll inherit the Castle and title and all the treasures belonging to the family. Is the new Earl pukka?’

‘Definitely.’

‘So he’ll be dealing with all the problems of his inheritance. Do you think he asked Oliver there? Is he the kind of man who would like to see if something could be sold privately and with no questions asked, no publicity?’ He made a tapping sound as though he was rattling a pencil on his desk. ‘On the other hand, the Selchester collection is well recorded. We were called in to advise on the pictures on loan to the national collection. Some fine pieces that’ll no doubt be offered to a grateful nation in lieu of death duties. No one could do any secret deals on those, of course.’

‘I don’t think the new Lord Selchester would want to do any secret deals. He’s a straightforward and honourable man. But there are some pictures at the Castle which apparently belong to Lady Sonia. That’s why she brought Oliver up with her.’

‘Do you know anything about these paintings?’

Hugo said, ‘No, nothing. All I can tell you is that my young sister saw Oliver and Sonia going up to the attic where the pictures are locked away and after he’d seen them, he was in a strange mood and he behaved very oddly.’

‘I can’t see there being stolen paintings hidden in Selchester Castle, if that’s what you’re suggesting. A man of the late Lord Selchester’s reputation would hardly be likely to have anything to do with that kind of thing. And Lady Sonia? I doubt it. However, if Oliver was murdered on account of anything of that kind, then stolen pictures sound possible. Art theft is a murky world, with criminal connections, and where there are criminals there can be violence.’