Murder in Abbot's Folly (7 page)

‘Have you any idea why Laura Fettis should have gone there, Georgia?' Mike asked quickly. ‘I'm told she was ill all day, so it seems odd to decide to go for a walk.'

‘I didn't know her, Mike. I saw her this morning, and it's true she didn't look well, so I agree it was odd.'

‘Her husband says she was lying down in the bedroom when he last saw her about three o'clock, and that she told him then she wouldn't make her appearance at four. But he went to double-check at about five to four only to find no one there. He and his daughter quickly checked the house, but there was no sign of her, so he went ahead shortly after four o'clock, while his daughter checked the house again. What did he actually say in this announcement, Peter?'

‘That there wouldn't be one until a later date.'

‘So the family might have already known she was dead?' Mike said.

‘Your job, Mike,' Peter said mildly. ‘I take it you don't know exactly when she died yet?'

‘We do. Roughly, anyway.' Mike looked at his notes. ‘A Mrs Dora Clackington seems to have been the last person to see Mrs Fettis alive when she looked in on her just before three thirty to wish her luck for the big speech. She was in a downstairs room by then and told Mrs Clackington that she was too ill to make the speech.'

‘No more?'

‘No. Probably wanted to get rid of the woman. Can't blame her. Have you talked to her?'

‘I'm staying with her,' Elena put in somewhat reproachfully.

Mike grinned. ‘Don't worry. I don't see Mrs Clackington wielding a gun, silencer or not. Do you?'

‘No.' Elena managed a weak smile in response.

‘Was the gun still around?' Peter asked. ‘Georgia said she didn't see one.'

‘No. And before you ask if it was the same one used in 1985, I can't say yet. The 1985 handgun was a Beretta, found, as I'm sure you know, at the Edgar Arms where Max Tanner was the landlord.'

‘Thank you, yes,' Peter replied calmly. ‘Of course,' he added, ‘Luckhurst's murder was an open and shut case, so I suppose there wasn't a large-scale investigation.'

A steely glare from Mike. ‘From what I read about it, that wasn't called for. It came down to Tanner or the leader of the protest march, one Tom Miller.'

‘Any idea what happened to Tanner?'

Mike sighed. ‘Knowing you, Peter, I had it checked out. I was going to ring you on Monday. Released in 2000, not re-offended. No record of him since, under that name or any other. We had no reason to keep tabs on him, and DNA was in its infancy. His prints were on the gun. So was his DNA.'

‘As they both could well have been, quite innocently. So there's no clue as to whether he's still in this area?'

‘None.'

‘I gather Amelia Luckhurst—'

A look from Mike quelled even Peter, but all Mike said was, ‘Luckhurst will have to wait. I have to get back to that poor woman's murder. Any detail you remember that you haven't yet told Newton, tell her right away. I have a feeling this one's going to be tricky.'

‘The tea tent still seems to be operating,' Elena said timidly after Mike had left. ‘Would anyone like something to drink?'

‘Yes,' Georgia replied, hardly able to believe she had said that, even though from the look on her face and the quaver in her voice it was clear that Elena needed it. Nevertheless, it seemed bizarre that tea should go on as usual in the midst of a murder investigation. On the other hand, she supposed that keeping normal life going was a sensible idea.

‘I'll bring some back here,' Luke offered.

Georgia decided to go with him. Action, any action, was better than sitting on this terrace with her mind full of that red spotted dress. Luke seemed about to suggest she remained, but he refrained. Once walking on the lawns and part of the general scene, Georgia felt it easier to cope, even though her costume began to seem even more incongruous with uniformed police everywhere, not to mention the scene-suited SOCOs.

‘I'll get everyone some cake as well,' she suggested. ‘Eating can take one's mind off things – if that's possible today.'

‘Depends on the cake,' Luke observed. ‘It will need to be a good one.'

The tea tent was acting as a refuge for all those not yet given permission to leave. Luke had told her that Mark and Jill had been allowed to go because of the baby, but there were still a few children running around in their restricting Regency clothes. Luke and Georgia's presence was immediately spotted by Dora, however, who came anxiously over as they joined the queue.

‘How's Elena?' she asked, although it was barely ten minutes since she'd asked the same question of Elena herself. ‘I've been so busy helping the police – what a terrible ordeal for the poor darling. I'll look after her, Georgia, you can count on me.'

Georgia knew she could. There was one field in which the Dora Clackingtons of this world excelled – they knew how to fuss and cosset, and thank heavens for them. And yet she remembered that Elena had chosen to sit with Peter and herself on the terrace, not join the Clackingtons. Was that significant? Georgia pushed the thought wearily away. She could not cope with everything at once, and her mother's future was too emotional a question to deal with at present. Instead she tried to concentrate on Dora, who still seemed to be in shock.

‘If there were something I could do,' Dora mourned. ‘But Roy is with Jennifer, and of course I cannot intrude. The police asked me all about seeing Laura. I was the last person, it seems, except the person who . . .' Her voice trailed off, and tears followed. ‘Laura said she was feeling a little better when I saw her. How can she suddenly have been murdered in that garden less than an hour or so later?'

‘Perhaps her murderer timed it for when Roy would be speaking,' Luke commented. ‘And if she was feeling stronger that would explain what she was doing outside the house.'

‘But why Abbot's Retreat?' Dora wailed. ‘As she was downstairs I thought she was going to make the speech after all, but she said she wasn't. She was too ill. So why go out? And the family was so upset.'

‘Perhaps something had happened that morning?' Georgia ventured. ‘Jennifer looked very worried when she took us to Abbot's Folly.' She longed to ask whether Dora could talk about what the intended announcement was about in case that had relevance to Laura's murder, but with Dora in her present state that would be a step too far.

Dora broke down. ‘Oh, I can't bear it. I really can't . . .'

Seeing her tear-blotched face and heaving shoulders, Georgia immediately felt remorseful for questioning her, but Luke was made of sterner stuff.

‘How long were you with her?' he asked.

‘Only five or ten minutes,' Dora sobbed. ‘I could see she wasn't well. She was in the Yellow Room at the front of the house, huddled in an upright armchair, not even lying down. “Go back to bed,” I told her. “Perhaps I will,” she said.'

‘Did anyone else know where she was, or did you tell anyone?' Georgia asked, more sharply than she meant to.

Dora looked up, and for a moment it occurred to Georgia that Dora might not be as innocent and childlike as she had assumed. ‘I'm not sure. I might have mentioned it to one or two people.'

Which meant she had, Georgia thought ruefully, and couldn't remember who. To be fair, with four o'clock fast approaching it would have been natural enough to chat to all and sundry about how Laura was. Luke was at the head of the catering queue now, and Georgia had to turn her attention to the matter of orange versus almond and rose-water cake, and try her best to push away images of Laura Fettis.

She and Luke were on their way back to the terrace when Dora wrong-footed her, having insisted on accompanying them. ‘Georgia,' she said earnestly, ‘I do hope that dear Elena does come to live here. She needs caring for.'

Don't we all, Georgia thought mutinously. She murmured something in response, but it was inadequate and she knew it. Soon she would have to deal with the problem of Elena, but not now, not
now
. Fortunately, Dora was approached by one of the PCs, which enabled Georgia to escape.

Back on the terrace, Luke handed out tea and cake while she joined Peter and Elena who were deep in conversation with Philip and Jake. She thought this would mean nothing was expected of her, but Jake turned to her, and she was forced to say something to them both. ‘I'm so sorry,' she said. ‘Did you know Laura well?' It sounded trite, but at least she was trying, she thought ruefully.

Philip looked at her as though she were speaking a foreign language, but Jake replied readily. ‘Yes, we both did. She was a good friend to us.' A quick look at Philip. ‘It seems crass to mention it now, but it's got to be thought of. There's a TV documentary about Stourdens which is all signed up, and Laura was very keen on it. That meant we saw a lot of her, and of course she helped Phil enormously with his book.'

So there was a book. ‘Is that what Laura's announcement was about?' she asked.

‘Part of it.' Jake glanced at Philip apologetically. ‘It was focused on general plans for Stourdens, though.'

‘Based on the Jane Austen connection?'

Neither of them answered, which was an answer in itself. Georgia tried to rescue the situation. ‘Perhaps the film can go ahead in due course, even if it's postponed.'

Jake shrugged. ‘Postpone is a word one doesn't use in filming. It's all booked in for late August. Sorry,' he added, ‘I shouldn't have mentioned it. Shock does odd things to you, and Phil and I still can't take in what's happened. Who would want to kill Laura of all people? She was one of the most popular people I've met in a long while.'

Not with everyone, it seemed. And what, Georgia wondered, was the family situation? This morning it had not been a happy one. This was hardly the time to raise the matter though, and anyway, that was Mike's territory, not Marsh & Daughter's.

How could a garden as peaceful as Abbot's Retreat be reconciled with anything as frightful as Laura Fettis's murder? Georgia remembered Laura's pale, troubled face earlier that day, with the fine lines of worry etched between the delicate features. She hadn't known Laura Fettis, and yet just that one indelible image of the morning now had to be set beside the one she could never eradicate.

She left Stourdens with relief at seven thirty when they were finally given permission to go. Peter assured her that he would be all right driving home alone. He confessed that he had hastily claimed one of his turns was coming on when Elena showed signs of coming with him, and she was returning to Edgar House with the Clackingtons. Georgia knew full well that what Peter was longing to do was to return to his own house, heat up the dinner left by his carer, Margaret, and withdraw to living room or bed, whichever took his fancy. His expression told her that for today he had had enough, and that hardly surprised her. He'd been interviewed, without being in a good position to interview – always a situation guaranteed to drive him to distraction. If this had been his case, he had muttered to her – but of course it wasn't. Not even Robert Luckhurst's murder was ‘his' case yet, despite those fingerprints. By tacit consent that subject had been left until Monday.

On Monday morning, therefore, it had to be faced. Georgia arrived at Haden Shaw somewhat early and prepared to tread gingerly, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that wasn't necessary. Margaret greeted her from the kitchen, and Peter was already at the computer. There were signs that he had actually breakfasted, an impressive array of reference books was piled on the desk, and Marsh & Daughter's website was on the screen.

‘I've been looking back over our case,' Peter announced without preamble. So that was that. Robert Luckhurst was ‘our case'. Did she mind? No, she realized. So far it had not seized her imagination, but after Laura's murder, it began to seem inevitable that Marsh & Daughter should pursue the earlier tragedy.

‘I've set Cath on to the problem of tracking Max Tanner down,' he continued.

‘Good.' Georgia was pleased. Cath Bone was newly married to Charlie, Georgia's cousin. She was a journalist and shared Charlie's inquisitive nature into anything that took her fancy, not only the stories she was asked to cover for her newspaper. ‘Useful income,' she said practically, and, put that way, Marsh & Daughter had had no hesitation in hiring her services when something suitable came up. This seemed an ideal opportunity.

‘Isn't it premature though?' she asked.

‘The fingerprints were shouting loud enough,' Peter pointed out.

She couldn't deny that they certainly suggested there was more to Robert Luckhurst's story than she and Peter had heard so far. ‘Tanner claimed he was innocent, and if so are there any candidates for guilty?'

‘Rather premature, but we can tentatively list a few. Mike offered his help over that.'

‘Offered?' she queried ironically. Mike had looked too busy to be in an offering mood when they had last seen him on Saturday.

‘Agreed, then. Apart from the toughie Tom Miller, Amelia Luckhurst is one obvious candidate. Mike also suggested we talk to Barbara Hastings, who was barmaid at the Edgar Arms at the time of the murder and in charge of the catering at Stourdens on Saturday – I think I remember her. She also does the teas there on open days. Her son Craig was at the bar. He's barman at the Dunham pub, plus part-time plumber. Remember him?'

She did. In his twenties, stocky, brown hair, rather fresh, round pleasant face. She remembered his mother too – and her remarkable cooking. ‘I do. He can't be on the suspect list for 1985; he'd have been a babe in arms. Anyone else?'