Design for Murder (20 page)

“I am considering your interests, and yours alone. I am trying to assist in forwarding your future, that is all.”

We looked at one another. There seemed nothing more to
be said. But then Sir Robert coughed, and began hesitantly,
“I want you to give me your promise, Miss Yorke.”

“My promise?”

“I want you to remember that you can always call on me if
you are in any kind of difficulty—financial or otherwise.
Problems are always best kept within the family, I am sure
you will agree. And considering your close association with Oliver, we think of you almost as one of the family, my wife
and I. So I want you to promise me that if anything crops up,
I shall be the person to whom you will turn, and no one else.”

He looked so agitated, so distressed, that I gave
him
the promise he wanted. It seemed to bring him a small degree of satisfaction, and some of the tension went out of him.

“And how are you for money at the moment, my dear
child? Is it difficult for you, with the studio’s bank account frozen for the time being?”

“Not really. None of the bills are overdue for payment, and I’m fine personally.”

Sir Robert nodded his head slowly. “But you will let me
know if you run short? I am a wealthy man, and it would be the easiest thing in the world for me to relieve you of any
financial anxiety.”

“It’s very kind of you, Sir Robert,” I murmured, much em
barrassed.

“Not at all, not at all.” He seemed to drift off into a day
dream, then pulled himself up sharply. “I had better be going.
I’m preventing you from working.”

I followed close behind as he descended the stairs, ready to
grab hold of him if he stumbled. But he made it unaided. As I watched him stride off uncertainly across the courtyard, my
mind was busy with speculation about the reasons behind his
visit.

“Could it be,” suggested Neil lightly, “that he fancies the idea
of having an attractive young protégé set up in London?”

“If you’re going to make silly jokes,” I said, “I wish I
hadn’t told you.”

Neil’s smile vanished. “I’m glad you did, though. This
could be important.”

I had spent most of the morning since Sir Robert’s de
parture debating what I ought to do. Was his strange attitude
something Neil should know about, or was I just being stu
pid? It could be that Sir Robert’s intention, his only intention,
was to compensate me for being left in an awkward situation
by Oliver’s death. And perhaps he had become so upset at my refusal to go along with his plans merely because he was an
autocrat who didn’t care for the recipients of his patronage
having minds of their own.

Perhaps ... but I couldn’t persuade myself to believe that.

Neil had resolved my doubts about what to do by walking
in on me soon after noon, inviting me to have lunch with him.
He sensed at once that something was bugging me, and it
didn’t take him long to dig out what it was.

“What’s the explanation?” I demanded, when Neil had
made me go through the conversation with Sir Robert as
nearly word for word as I could remember it. I wanted him to come up with a simple answer.

“One thing’s certain,” he mused. “Despite Sir Robert’s
claim to the contrary, he’s very determined to get you out of
the way. Somehow your presence represents a danger to him,
or to his family. This suggests there’s something you know— or something he
thinks
you know, or might come to know.”

“Yes, but what? Of course, there’s that business about
Sebastian being in the neighbourhood on the morning Oliver
was killed.”

Neil shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s that. When I
talked to Sebastian he seemed extremely anxious to conceal the fact from his father. So if for some reason he later felt compelled to make a clean breast of it, then presumably Sir Robert is fully aware that the police already have the infor
mation.” Neil ledged himself on the back of a chair. “My
hunch is that it’s something to do with Lady Medway. How much do you know about her and Oliver?”

“Lady Medway and Oliver? You don’t mean, for heaven’s sake, that you think there was anything between them?”

“It can’t be ruled out.” He gave me a direct look. “Weren’t you aware that Sir Robert and his wife first met one another through Oliver?”

“Honestly? I had no idea.”

“Maybe Sir
Robert is under the impression that Oliver told
you more than he in fact did.” After a brief pause, Neil went on, “This must be for your private ear alone, Tracy. Investigations concerning Oliver Medway that we’ve had made in
London suggest that he and Diana Chivers—as Lady Med
way was in those days—were a good deal more than friends.”

“Come off it, Neil,” I protested. “You aren’t going to
make me believe that Sir Robert is the sort of man to accept
his own son’s cast-offs.”

“Not knowingly. I doubt if Sir Robert had the faintest glimmer of what there was between those two. Diana, it appears,
saw the father as the better prospect. She was approaching
the age when parts are harder to find, and she probably
realised that she’d never get a proposal of marriage out of
Oliver. Then after she and the old boy were happily spliced, Oliver returned here to live. A very cosy and convenient little
arrangement, if he had a fancy to pick up again with Diana. And from what I know about Oliver Medway’s character, it
would have amused him to carry on with his father’s wife
right under the parental nose.”

I challenged Neil with a glare. “Have you got the slightest evidence that this was happening?”

“Nothing definite. Our chaps have picked up one or two
hints, though ... straws in the wind, you might say.”

“I would have known about it,” I objected. “I’m sure I
would have known if there was anything between them.”

“Would you, Tracy?” He allowed the question to linger, then said, “You like to think that you knew the man pretty well, but just consider. There was clearly more between Med
way and Mrs. Kemp than you were aware of—whatever the
exact nature of their relationship. So he’d probably have been
even more careful to conceal from you any goings-on with his
stepmother.”

“I suppose so,” I allowed grudgingly.

These past few days I’d had so many surprises about Oliver
that I no longer felt able to trust my instincts where he was concerned.

“But if Oliver was so careful to keep their relationship se
cret,” I argued, “then his
father
wouldn’t have been likely to
know about it, either.... Are you suggesting that Sir Rob
ert has found out about it since?”

Neil shook his head. “It’s more likely—if we really are on the right track—that he found out just before his son’s death.
Remember that Sir Robert and Lady Medway had the very
dickens of a row earlier that same morning.”

A sudden excitement took hold of me. Desperate for a so
lution that would absolve Tim, I was ready to grasp at any wild theory.

“You’re not suggesting, Neil, that Sir Robert was so
enraged that he killed his own son?”

“Possibly. It’s also possible that it was Lady Medway who
killed Oliver in a jealous quarrel. Either way, Sir Robert
would be frantic for his son’s murder to remain unsolved. But as long as you’re around, Tracy, you represent a threat.”

“How could I be a threat to him?”

“Could be, as I said, that he thinks Oliver told you more than he actually did. And that sooner or later you’ll be putting two and two together, even if you haven’t got around to
it yet. When talking about Oliver to me, for instance, or other
people for that matter, some forgotten fragment of knowledge
might suddenly snap back into place and become significant.
So, Sir Robert wants you safely out of the way—and nicely in
debted to him into the bargain, so that you’ll never be
tempted to talk out of turn.”

Sir Robert
had
close-questioned me about how much
Oliver and I had talked together. And not only had Sir Rob
ert pressed money upon me, he’d also been insistent that he
was the first person I should consider turning to if faced with any sort of financial problem. Was it his veiled way of offering a bribe for my silence?

“But if your theory is true,” I reasoned, “then why did Sir Robert originally suggest an arrangement that would actually
have
prevented
my leaving Steeple Haslop?”

Neil gave me a rueful grin. “That’s the trouble with
theories. They carry you just so far, but there’s always a weak
point somewhere.”

“And how does Ursula fit into all this?” I threw at him. But instead of flooring Neil completely, the question seemed to
perk him up a bit.

“We’ve already agreed, haven’t we, that there was a special
closeness between Ursula Kemp and Oliver Medway. Just
suppose that he really was having an affair with his step
mother, wouldn’t he have found it almost unendurable not to be able to share the joke with someone?”

“You mean, he told Ursula about it?”

“He might have thought she was the one person it was safe to confide in. Perhaps Mrs. Kemp felt a twisted sort of mater
nal pride in Oliver.”

I thought a moment, and was forced to admit it was possi
ble. Ursula Kemp had been an enigma, without friends or any apparent interest in Steeple Haslop’s social life.

I looked at Neil. “You think, then, that Sir Robert some
how found out that Ursula knew about it?”

“Might she have tried to blackmail him, Tracy?”

“And Sir Robert killed her?”

“He, or his wife,” said Neil. “Or both of them together.”

“No, I don’t think that’s at all likely,” I said firmly. “They don’t seem at all close, those two. It’s something I’ve noticed
particularly each time I’ve seen them together since Oliver’s
death. Here in the flat that first morning, then at the inquest.
And again yesterday during the funeral service and after
wards at the house.”

“But that could even add weight to my argument. If one—
or both—of them were responsible for the deaths of Oliver
and Mrs. Kemp, then there would inevitably be an es
trangement between them, considering the motive for the
murders. Yet, however far apart the Medways might feel,
they’d be chained together forever by their guilt. Chained by mutual hatred. Chained by fear. They’d each be as anxious as
the other one to prevent the truth from coming to light, so
they might well co-operate in taking whatever steps seem necessary.”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” I said, with a shiver.

“The history of murder is littered with cases which prove
that point.” Neil pushed himself away from the chair and started pacing restlessly around the studio. “It could be worth
having another go at our young friend Sebastian.”

“You mean Sebastian might be in it with them?”

“I shouldn’t think so.” Neil hesitated in the way I’d come to
recognise. He was, I felt sure, considering how much he
should tell me. Then he continued, “For all practical pur
poses, we’ve eliminated Sebastian Medway from suspicion. The explanation for his presence hereabouts last Wednesday morning checks out. Although he cannot account for every single minute of his time so as to make it out of the question
that he killed his stepbrother, it would need to have been with
the woman’s connivance. And I somehow don’t think that’s
likely.”

“The woman?”

“You already knew that he was with a woman. Grace Ebborn saw them together in the Volvo, remember?”

“Yes, of course. But the way you said it, Neil, seemed to
imply that she and Sebastian were ... well, having it off.”

He turned his head and grinned. “Those two were making
a late start returning to Oxford, after spending a night at her cottage over Little Edgecombe way.”

That really did surprise me. “But, I mean ... Sebastian
isn’t the sort to ...”

Did I detect reluctant admiration in Neil’s broadening
grin?

“You’ve been fooled, Tracy, by the image he was so anxious to present to his adoptive daddy as a reassuring contrast
to Oliver’s screwing around. But from the enquiries we’ve
made in Oxford, young Sebastian is quite a lad, too—in his own very discreet way. About his latest exploit, he informed
us himself—he had to, in order to clinch his alibi. He really is playing with fireworks this time, because the woman happens
to be the wife of his professor. It would make quite a scandal
at the university if it came to light, and some of the stray
sparks might well reach Sir Robert.”

“And do I take it that it’s now your intention to use what
you know about Sebastian as a threat, in the hope of bulldoz
ing him into making some sort of revelation about his father and stepmother?”

“It will be done with finesse, of course. Kid gloves for the
Medways, remember—those are my orders from above.”