03 - Murder in Mink (4 page)

Peg sat opposite Eustace in a leather armchair, smoking a
cigar.

“Come on man, spill the beans, why did you and father
fall out?”

Clara was sat at a table by the window writing a postcard
she had almost forgotten to send for a friend’s birthday, as Peg began her
interrogation. Eustace gave a rumbling gruff and swilled his whisky in its
glass.

“What does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t matter one jot, except I am curious.” Peg
sucked contentedly on her cigar, “Bet Clara is too.”

Clara kept her head down and pretended not to overhear.

“My fraternal differences are too complicated for light
conversation.”

Peg made a noise expressing her disbelief.

“Seriously uncle Eustace, what a bore, here I am prepared
to listen to your side of events and you won’t speak up. Exactly how is that a
defence?”

“A defence? A defence to what?”

“To everything! To the tension at dinner last night, to
the clear disharmony between you and father. As it is I am inclined to make up
my own views on the cause, and they are unlikely to be complementary to you.”

Eustace made his rumbling noise again, which seemed to be
a sign of irritation.

“Was it drink that did it?”

“A man’s entitled to drink.” Eustace drained his whisky
glass to prove it.

“Then women. Or maybe money?”

“Make up your mind as to my failings, won’t you?”

“Then again, it could be all three.” Peg tapped the ash
from her cigar into an onyx ashtray and waited for a response. It came from an
unexpected quarter.

“I believe you will find the rift that occurred between
Hogarth and Eustace was fuelled by little more than the unhappy knowledge that
Eustace could not be the son his father wanted and Hogarth could, except
Hogarth was younger and that meant he should not inherit the lion’s share of
his father’s empire.”

Peg and Eustace both looked up at Clara who had tired of
the baiting antics behind her.

“Eustace didn’t care for business, Hogarth did. But it is
traditional to pass these things on to the eldest son, so Eustace was forced
into a mould that did not fit him and naturally he failed, or perhaps you would
rather I say ‘rebelled’. The end result was alienation, long spells away from
home, resentment towards Hogarth for being the ‘favoured’ son and an overriding
sense of having shamed himself and his family.”

“By Jove.” Eustace’s hand trembled as he put down the
glass, “How did you know?”

Peg was just as astonished.

“Honestly Clara, are you psychic or something?”

“No, but I am afraid Eustace your story is nothing new.
For the eldest son to have been ostracised in such a way it had to be pretty
much the case.” Clara shrugged, “Rather fairground stuff after that, like
fortune-tellers, all vague but pointing in one direction. Sorry.”

“Sorry? You are bloody insightful!” Peg roared with
laughter, “Did anyone tell you she was a private detective Eustace.”

“No. Is that what you are Clara?”

“Yes, but it really is not as exciting as it sounds. Lots
of lost dogs and absconding husbands most of the time.”

Eustace sank back in his chair.

“You were spot on. It quite shook me, but spot on. I
never was the son my father had wanted. Could I have another whisky?” Eustace
held his glass out to Peg who obediently poured, “Hogarth was a different
story. He was business minded, could do his sums, never caused a bother. I was
always the odd one out.”

“That doesn’t mean you are less important than him.”
Clara said soothingly.

“No, but it knocks a man down.” Eustace took a reassuring
sip of alcohol, “Now I’m just a rich fool, too old and fat to be much use
anywhere.”

“That’s a sad thing to say.” Clara walked over and joined
them, “And I doubt it too. I think deep down you have plenty of skills to be
proud of, you just mask them a great deal because you lack confidence.”

“You are too kind Clara.”

Clara gave a shrug. At that moment Glorianna burst into
the drawing room.

“Have you seen Susan?” She demanded.

Peg was startled by her stepmother’s ruffled appearance
and fraught look.

“No.” She said, “Why?”

“Look, don’t worry, but I went to her room because she
was supposed to be trying on her bridesmaid gown and she wasn’t there. We had
arranged to check her outfit for tomorrow.”

“She’s no doubt around somewhere.” Peg emphasised
‘around’ by circling her cigar in the air. She had relaxed considerably now she
knew the crisis was merely one of fashion.

“That’s the thing, I’ve looked in all the likely places.”

“She’ll turn up in a moment.” Peg persisted, “Susan is
such a butterfly-brain, you know.”

Disgruntled, Glorianna swept out of the room. Clara
watched her with a feeling of anxiety building inside.

“Susan doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with Glory.” Peg
whispered to them conspiratorially, “You must have noticed the way Glory tries
to dress like a girl of twenty? She is always trying to rival Susan in gowns.
That’s why I like to wear trousers, no competition from the step-mum.”

“Does Susan normally vanish when Gloriana wants to
discuss clothes?” Clara asked.

“Well, not vanish. Just kick her heels, waste time, you
know. So Glory gets fed up and goes off to do her own ensemble.”

Clara still felt it was a strange moment to choose to be
defiant; the eve of your brother’s wedding.

“Does Susan mind being a bridesmaid?”

“Mind? I should think she is quite used to it, this will
be her third go. You know what they say about the girl who is always the
bridesmaid, never the bride?”

“That’s the tagline for that tooth powder advert.”
Eustace joined in, “Reminding girls that bad breath keeps the boys at bay. I
have to say I have never met a girl with bad breath.”

Clara’s sense of unease was rising. She glanced at the
door, wondering what to do.

“Susan is always the third pin at a party, crying shame
because she is such a spark. I suppose she isn’t so pretty and a little bit
dumpy, but she has a charming singing voice.” Peg reflected.

“Trouble is there are ten girls for every young lad and
they are getting fussy. In my day we were happy if they were single and knew
their right foot from their left.” Eustace grinned at fond memories, “Of
course, we weren’t half as forward as they are now.”

Clara suddenly couldn’t bear her own anxiety.

“I think I’ll go see if they’ve found her.” She stood,
taking the pair by surprise and hurried out.

Glorianna was in the study with Hogarth, wringing her
hands and talking about search parties. Clara entered without knocking.

“So you haven’t found her?”

“Oh Clara, where can she have gone?” Glorianna gave a
little gasp.

“I’ll round up the servants and send them out looking.
Susan wouldn’t wander off.” Hogarth cast a glance at the clock which was just
coming to quarter to nine, “Perhaps she just went for some air.”

“It’s dark Hogarth! And I checked the terrace.”

“I’ll start looking while you organise the others.” Clara
went back into the hall and grabbed her coat, her mind was whirring with
possibilities and none of them were appealing.

She didn’t head out the front door but instead went
downstairs to the servants’ quarters. As she expected the male servants were
gathered in the kitchen with cups of tea. She spotted the driver who had
brought her to the house, yet again his name escaped her and she opted for her
best guess.

“Jimmy?”

“Yes miss.” He responded, looking worried.

“Susan is missing, you will all be called shortly to help
search, but Jimmy I would like you to come with me.”

Jimmy hastened from his seat, everyone else was looking confused
and one or two were reaching for coats. In the corridor leading to the back
entrance Clara started asking questions.

“Are there lakes, ponds or rivers on the estate or
nearby?”

“A river runs through the far end of the estate. It has a
bridge over it. What are you thinking miss?”

“Oh, some dreadful things Jimmy, but I sincerely hope I
am wrong.”

“Very well miss. By the way miss, its Timmy.” The driver
ducked his head sheepishly for correcting her.

Clara gave him a smile, it was all she could manage at
that moment.

“All right, Timmy, we have a girl to find.”

Timmy led the way down the back steps and passed the
garages. He paused briefly to collect two large torches and handed one to
Clara. Then they made their way into the dark reaches of the estate. The night
was cloudy. There was no moonlight to guide them. Timmy seemed fairly assured
of the route to take, while Clara kept her torch low and tried to avoid
tripping over. Her new shoes, bought specifically for the Campbell visit, were
not the best for hiking across damp ground. Her heels kept insisting on sinking
into the soil.

The estate was rambling and soon Clara was lost. Timmy
guided them, but with more hesitancy now. His torch beam caught on bushes and
trees, the odd forlorn statue and forgotten benches. In the distance Clara
could hear voices and knew they were not alone in their hunt. People were
calling for Susan, but they were so far back, circling the house, expecting her
to not have gone far. Clara was thinking other things.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride… Susan had seemed
so bubbly, so kind and friendly, yet she had tried to persuade Laura to
reconsider getting married. Was it genuine concern or something more akin to
jealousy? When Laura married, Susan lost a brother and a girl she had come to
consider a good friend. Did that upset her? Scare her? Clara hoped to God she
was allowing her imagination to run wild and nothing more.

“That’s the river.” Timmy pointed his torch at a fast
moving stretch of water.

“For how long does it cross the estate?”

“Mile or two.” Timmy shrugged, “At a guess.”

Clara wished she had shared her ideas with more
searchers, with just Timmy the river would be difficult to scour.

“Where’s the bridge?”

“Miss, do you think she jumped in?”

“I’m not sure what to think, but I want to take a look.”

Timmy escorted her to the bridge; it was made of stone in
a classical three arched design. At another time Clara would have admired it,
now she was just thinking of all the parapets a person could jump from. She
shone her torch underneath the first arch, scanning the rippling water, looking
for any sign. Timmy was doing the same on the far side.

“She would be swept away miss, if she jumped.”

Clara grimaced.

“I know, but where would she end up?”

Timmy gave it some thought.

“Where the river ends the wall reaches over it with a
shallow arch and a ledge. She would have to stop there.”

Neither of them mentioned that this was contingent on her
still being alive. Clara swept the waters with her torch beam again.

“All right, show me.”

They followed the river to the left, the water flowing
upstream fast. Along the way Clara’s eyes were drawn to the dark water. She
kept expecting to see a glimpse of skirt or to hear a voice call for help.
Behind her there were still the sounds of the search party calling for Susan.
If only they could find her, discover her asleep in the gazebo or walking
through the trees. But Susan wasn’t answering their cries.

Clara’s shoes were certainly ruined by the time the
estate wall came into sight. She wasn’t thinking of them, instead her eyes were
fixed on the narrow arch that was just becoming visible. The river ran under
this arch at the base of the wall, allowing fish in and out, but preventing the
intrusions of poachers. Clara aimed her torch at it, but the beam wasn’t strong
enough and all she could hear was the rushing of the water. She started to
hurry, Timmy picked up pace too. Tortuously slow, the torch light travelled up
the water and picked out the archway and something… something else.

Timmy gave a cry and ran forward. Clara slipped on the
grass as she followed. Both torch beams alighted on the figure clinging to the
ledge that ran over the arch. Susan looked like a drowned rat barely able to
prevent herself from being dragged away by the current. She looked into the
torchlight, but could see nobody.

“Susan! We’ll help you!” Clara called out.

Timmy was already slipping off his jacket and shoes. He
handed his torch to Clara and plunged into the water. Clara held her breath as
he swam to Susan. As he grasped her about the middle she easily relinquished
her hold on the ledge and almost seemed to faint. He hauled her back to the
bank, a dead weight, fighting the fast current all the time. On the bank Clara
hurried to reach down and grab Susan. Between her and Timmy they pulled Susan
up the grass.

“Oh Susan!” Clara felt herself sob looking at the
bedraggled woman.

Susan was crying softly. Her dark hair was stuck to her
face and her clothes were ruined. She was dressed in the outfit she had had on
for dinner.

“Why Susan? Why?” Clara rested a hand on her back, “Well
never mind that, we better get you back to the house. Everyone is so worried.”

Susan was unresisting as Timmy and Clara lifted her to
her feet. Timmy went to pick up and carry her but Clara stopped him.

“Better if she walks. She is freezing cold and the
movement will warm her a little.”

Susan was still weeping to herself. Timmy put her right
arm around his shoulder and Clara took the left. Together they half-walked,
half-dragged Susan in the direction of the house.

“It was an accident.” Susan suddenly blurted out as the
lights of the house came into view.

“Really?” Clara raised an eyebrow, “If you want to tell
Glorianna that so be it.”

“I didn’t really mean it.” Susan insisted, “I mean, I
slipped.”

“Let’s not think about it for the moment. You need warm
clothes and a hot drink.”