A Death in Two Parts (23 page)

“But not so fast,” he pleaded. “Take time to think it over, Mrs Crankshaw, to get to know the girl. You know nothing about her after all.”

“Oh.” Patience could not resist it. “Did Mrs Jones not hear about her grandfather?”

“Her grandfather?”

“Lavolle,” said Patience.

“Not the Duke?”

“Yes, the Duke.” She saw with satisfaction that, probably for the first time in her life, Veronica's grandfather had been useful to her. Mr Jones might not be convinced, but at least he was working towards the belief that there must be something to be said for Veronica, however illegitimate. He agreed reluctantly to set about drafting the new will, and to put her holograph in his safe for the time being.

On her way home she paused at the bank to discuss an account for Veronica, then dropped in to Leyning's thriving
delicatessen and bought the makings of a cold lunch in case Mark or Veronica, or both of them, should return in time.

She waited in vain and was finally making herself a sandwich when the phone rang. Mark at last. But he was speaking from London, he told her.

“I'm so sorry. My masters got me on my mobile and summoned me to an urgent meeting. I'm at Victoria, on my way to it. I'll call you when I get back. Tonight, I do hope. No walk today, alas. Forgive me, Patience? And be careful, you and Veronica. Please.”

Patience threw the sandwich into the bin and made herself a cup of coffee. She had just settled, elbows on table, to drink it, when the door bell rang. Idiotic to tell her to be careful. But it was probably Mrs Vansittart, or the milkman, or the erratic post.

She recognised Priss at once, though she had changed enormously from the plain, downtrodden daughter at home. The mousy hair had auburn highlights now, and a very expensive cut, and the charcoal grey suit had come straight off the catwalk. As Patience hesitated, remembering Mark's warning, Priss spoke.

“Patience! I've got to talk to you. Please? Mark Brigance came to the Thompsons' today, asking if I was there. I was out, thank God, but I knew what it meant. I've been God's own fool, Patience. May I come in?”

“Priss.” Patience stood for a long minute looking at her, wondering what to do. Across the road something caught her eye; a window curtain stirring ever so slightly. God bless Mrs Vansittart, she thought, and opened the door wider. “Yes, do come in. My neighbour across the road is wondering who I've got calling on me now. We keep a friendly eye on each other,
here in Leyning.” Closing the door behind Priss she thought for a moment that she had been mad to let her in. “I've just made some coffee. Come and join me.”

“Thanks.” She dropped her jacket on a chair, revealing a toning silk shirt. Lots of money there, well spent. “I've come to confess.” Her eyes met Patience's for the first time. “Throw myself on your mercy, Patience. I've been such a fool. I tried to kill you. I was off my head with fright. I saw you in Brighton with Veronica Lavolle. I couldn't believe my eyes.”

“How come you knew her?” Patience had been wondering about this.

“Paul and I had a holiday in St Ives a few years ago. At least, I thought it was a holiday. He said he wanted to do a gallery crawl, buy some pictures. As an investment, of course. He never does anything except for money. And then I began to wonder. He kept looking at pictures of this stunning model called Jennifer Lavolle. He didn't want to meet her, just look at pictures of her, and her daughter. I began to think there had to be something kinky about it. Well, he never married me for my looks. I got frightened, and angry, a bit. We've been a good team; I really thought it was going to break up. In the end, I blew it, went for him – and he roared with laughter and told me all about it. He just wanted to see how like your precious husband the daughter was. He thought it might come in useful one day, for another of his plans. We saw them in the end across the room at a private view and you could see the likeness even from there. But how in the world did you find out about her, Patience? It must have been a shock.”

“Yes, it was.” She was not going to discuss Veronica with Priss. “I'm adopting Veronica. I've changed my will in her favour.”

“Damned unfair,” said Priss bitterly. “You've no more right to the old woman's money than the man in the moon. I wish to God I'd managed to stop you in the first place, that day at Gogarty's.”

“So it was you?”

“Of course. We were afraid you'd foul up what we were planning. And how right we were. Didn't think I had it in me, did you? Any of you! The thing I really minded about the old bitch dying like that was she never got to know how we had been fooling her, Paul and I. I was looking forward to telling her. Only, just sometimes, now, I wish none of it had happened. He frightens me sometimes, Paul. If he was to find out what a mess I've made of it down here I don't know what he'd do. And I love him, see, can't help it. Always have, always will. I did it for him. Tried to do it. But it didn't work. I kept listening to the news. Nothing!”

“I suppose it would have been all right if you had succeeded,” said Patience dryly. “Managed to kill us both.”

“Well, of course. That would have changed everything, wouldn't it? Both of you gone! A good honest accident with the gas, like there have been so many. Poor people with careless landlords.” She sounded almost reproachful. “And now you say you have changed your will. Cut us all out.”

“You knew you were in?”

“Oh, yes. I told you Paul's a clever fellow. He managed to infiltrate Mr Jones's office. That's what he called it and I don't ask questions. The less I know the better, he says, and I agree with him. Wouldn't you? I wish, now, I hadn't found out about the Lavolles. But it was only fair that we should inherit Gran's money in the end. You know perfectly well that was what she intended.”

“And that entitles you to kill for it?”

“Paul was always sure you would leave it back to us. It was our old age insurance. He told me to come and take a look at this house when you bought it this summer, just in case. And then I saw you and the Lavolle girl in Marks and Sparks. Paul always said that if you two got together we were finished. Only there was no way you would. He'd made sure you knew nothing about her. As sure as you can be of anything. Why in the world would she get in touch with you, of all people?”

“You may well ask,” said Patience; but that was all she said.

“Where is she now?”

“In Brighton again. Fixing up about her A levels, I hope. And Mark Brigance is in London, back any minute, so I advise you not to try anything, Priss.”

“Oh, I'm beyond that. Do I have to go down on my knees, Patience? To get you to forget it ever happened? Tell no one?”

“Mark and Mary know. And Veronica, of course.”

“But they're family. They won't talk if you don't. It's not just Paul. Please, Patience! It's the children, you see.”

“Children? Priss, I didn't know.”

“Twins. They're only twenty, Patience. I had them at the last gasp, when I'd almost given up hope. Paul had, I think, but we went on going through the motions, damned expensive, and then, suddenly, it worked. They're the best thing that ever happened to me, and to Paul. He adores them. They talk each other's language, he and they – you know what I mean? Internet and all that. If anything happened to spoil it, put them against him, I just don't know what he'd do. He might go right round the bend. Specially if he thought it was my fault. Patience, I'm begging you—”

The telephone rang. Patience picked it up. “Paul?” she said. And then: “Mark's not here, I'm afraid, but I can give him a message. I'm glad you called, actually. I've been wanting to talk to you. There are things we need to discuss, you and I. Could you lunch with me at the Black Stag, here in Leyning, tomorrow?” She listened: “Yes, I know it's short notice, but you see Veronica Lavolle is here, staying with me. I am going to adopt her. I'm sure you will see that this leaves a few things to be straightened out between you and me.” And after another pause: “Good. Shall we say quarter to one in the front bar? I'll look forward to seeing you there.”

She put the receiver down. It had given her time to think. “Don't worry,” she told Priss. “I'm not going to say a word about you. You hadn't told Paul Veronica is here, had you?”

“I didn't dare. I told you, I'm afraid of him when he's angry. The twins aren't. I want it to stay that way. What are you going to say to him, Patience?”

“That's my affair. But nothing about you, and that's a promise. Now, tell me about the twins.”

They were brilliant. “Quite beyond me,” said their proud mother. “But Paul can keep up with them.” They had chosen to go to different universities; the world was going to be their oyster.

Patience had made fresh coffee and Priss was on her third cup, still happily talking, when the front door bell rang.

“Patience!” Mark was on the doorstep. “You're all right? I got anxious about you.” And then: “You've someone here?”

“Yes. Come in. It's Priss.”

“So I was right.”

“Well, yes and no.” They were in the big kitchen now. “Priss, here's Mark.”

“Oh!” Priss was already on her feet. “Mark! I'd not have known you.” She picked up her jacket with shaking hands and he took it from her and eased her into it.

“Thank you. I must go. Patience, I can't … Please?”

“Don't worry, Priss. It's going to be all right, I think.” She shepherded her out into the hall. “You're staying at the Thompsons', aren't you? Why don't you just stay on there until after I've seen Paul tomorrow? That way, bit of luck, this will be all sorted out and Paul won't be talking about it. You can go home and pretend you never saw Veronica and me.”

“I wish to God I hadn't.”

“Oh, no. Don't say that. I think it may end up all for the best really. It was time all this was cleared up, and now I think it's going to be. And no fret for the twins either.”

“Oh, bless you, Patience! I'm so sorry.” She turned back on the doorstep, tears in her eyes.

Patience nearly kissed her, changed her mind. “Don't fret; just forget all about it.” She turned back into the house.

“Twins?” asked Mark.

“Brilliant twenty-year-old twins, a triumph of modern science, who must not know of their mother's little lapse from grace. She came to confess, Mark. When she heard you had called on the Thompsons, she knew the fat was in the fire. Poor creature, she's much more frightened of Paul's finding out about what she tried – and failed – to do than of anything we might do to her. And the twins mustn't know, of course. She painted a pretty dismal picture of their family life without realising it. I think she's a bit frightened of them, too. Imagine their finding out that their mother is a failed murderer … I'm afraid it was the failure she really regretted, but never mind that. And while she was begging me to keep her secret,
Paul rang, asking for you. So I invited him to lunch tomorrow at the Black Stag. You should have seen her face. But I'm not going to tell him. Not about her. I promised her.”

“You look most enormously pleased with yourself.” Mark picked a mug from the dresser. “Is there anything left in that pot? What are you planning for Paul?”

“Retribution.” Patience filled the mug and passed him the biscuit tin. “When I was twenty-one Paul took me out to lunch and told me my money was all gone. Well, tomorrow I'm going to give him the best lunch the Black Stag can provide and set about a little genteel blackmail in return.”

“Imitating your husband?”

“Just so. Oh, it is good to talk to someone who is so quick on the uptake!”

“It's mutual. So what are you going to threaten Paul with?”

“I suppose just what Geoffrey did. A full investigation of his finances. Priss said he told her once that if I ever met Veronica he was sunk. That's what panicked her into trying to kill us. Which has to mean that Geoffrey meant the fund he made Paul set up for Jennifer Lavolle to continue to her daughter, and Paul fudged it somehow so it reverted to him. He absolutely cannot afford to have me start an investigation. So I am going to sweetly suggest that he reconstitute the fund for Veronica and then I'll let bygones be bygones. After all, it's only fraud, Mark. No need to look so shocked.”

“Not murder and a wicked attempt at a frame-up like my mama and her brothers tried against you, you mean? You're absolutely right, Patience. Fraud is the modern crime after all: perfectly respectable so long as you get away with it, and enough money is involved. And I do think you are right:
you'll have Protheroe in the hollow of your hand and be able to name your terms. I suppose you wouldn't let me join your happy little party?”

“I don't think it would work, do you? It has to be just the two of us.”

“But there's nothing to stop me lurking in the background somewhere, eating my own lunch and keeping an eye in case he whips out the arsenic bottle and pours it over your salad.”

“Goodness, yes, that would be a comfort. Not the arsenic, I mean. Your being there. But, Mark, don't you have to get back to work? From what Mary said I rather thought you must have overstayed your leave already.”

“Quick, aren't you? I rather thought you'd noticed. And you are quite right as usual. Hence the summons today.” He smiled at her across his mug and her heart gave something between a gasp and a hiccup. “Congratulate me. I'm a free man, Patience. I can't tell you how well I like it. I've been thinking about it for a while. The game's not what it used to be; the edges have got too blurred. We connive at each other's corruption, and anything goes so long as you can fix the media. I've seen good friends left to carry the can when they could have been saved by just a little courage. But that's not in plentiful supply up top. So when they started to carpet me, like a naughty boy who's overstayed his exeat, I just handed in my notice and left. I was sweating with fright about you, to tell you the truth. Crazy to leave you on your own here. No time to phone; I caught the train by a whisker and ran up across the graveyard, only to find you capably giving the enemy coffee.”