Rattling the Bones (34 page)

‘When have I ever?’ I demanded indignantly. ‘Inspector, there’s one thing you must do.’

‘Oh?’ Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Going to tell me my job again, Fran?’

‘I’m not telling you your job and there isn’t time for us to argue about it!’ I retorted, suddenly angry and not caring that she knew it. ‘I’ve flushed out Lottie and Adam for you and you ought at least to be polite and thank me for my efforts. Not that anyone ever does thank me! And please don’t tell me all that stuff about budgets and accountability and the rest of it. I know that you work under constraints. I know you don’t want to be chasing shadows, as you put it the last time we spoke. But I also guess you won’t want to have your bosses asking you why you took no action to protect an elderly, vulnerable and very wealthy member of the community like Henry Culpeper.’

Jessica looked understandably startled at hearing me harangue an officer of the Met like this. But Morgan didn’t turn a hair.

‘Culpeper is at risk?’ She twitched an eyebrow.

‘What do you think? Adam Ferrier is zooming round like a disturbed hornet out there looking for someone to sting! Please, Inspector, put a police officer in Henry Culpeper’s house until you pick up Adam. The old gentleman has to have protection. Adam is a loose cannon. I haven’t time to explain now but part of this is all about wills. Adam must be a main beneficiary of his grandfather’s - but he won’t remain so for long once Culpeper learns what he’s been doing. It’s in Adam’s vital interest that his grandfather doesn’t get the chance to call his lawyers and tell them he wants to change his will.’

Morgan nodded. ‘Point taken. I’ll see to it, straightaway. ’

We watched them drive off. Lottie gave us one long look through the car window as it drew away - it gave a whole new dimension to the saying ‘If looks could kill . . .’

‘Jessica,’ I said. ‘Morgan’s the best and most reliable copper I’ve ever come across. She’ll send an officer over to the house. But that doesn’t mean you and I can sit on our hands. We have to go and see Culpeper, right now. We have to tell him all of this. He has to order Alice, or whatever she’s called, not to admit Adam Ferrier to the house under any circumstances. If necessary, you and I will stay there, all night if need be, to back up Alice.’

‘Adam wouldn’t harm his grandfather!’ Jessica looked and sounded deeply shocked. ‘I listened to what you told that police inspector and I appreciate your concern for Henry. But I honestly think you’re going too far. I know Adam is a rotten apple but there are limits.’

‘What limits? After this, do you think Henry Culpeper won’t change his will? Once he learns what Adam has been up to, the first thing Henry will do is send for his solicitor. Until Adam is in custody, Henry’s not safe.

‘Don’t you see, Jessica? A murderer can’t inherit from the will of his victim, right? But having killed
Duane
wouldn’t prevent Adam inheriting under Henry’s will - unless, of course, Henry changes the will when he hears the news! He’s almost certain to do that. If Adam can get into that house and take some action or other to stop Henry being told the truth and contacting his lawyers, he will. Provided he slips into that house, does the deed and slips out again without anyone seeing him, who can prove he did it or was ever there?’

Jessica was still unconvinced although shaken. ‘But by your own argument, Fran, the risk Adam would take is enormous. He would automatically be suspected of killing his grandfather. If it were proved he’d lose the right to inherit, anyway.’

‘Suspicion and proof are two different things, ask Morgan!’ I countered. ‘Adam doesn’t have to break into the house; he’s got keys and a remote to work the security gate. The house is already full of his fingerprints and traces of his DNA from his many previous visits so none of that could be used later as evidence to prove his presence. Provided he isn’t seen in the house tonight, what’s to prove he’s been there, no matter what anyone suspects? Jessica, Henry would normally be alone in that house all night with only Alice and she probably sleeps like a log. That’s why the cops have to put in an officer as protection until Adam is picked up and we have to be there, too. Adam has nothing to lose. Henry will change his will if he’s told the truth. So Henry must not be allowed to know the truth. Adam runs a big risk going to the house. But it’s a dead cert he’ll be disinherited if he doesn’t take some desperate action. One way he certainly loses. The other way, as he’ll see it, there’s a chance to protect his long-term interests.’

Jessica looked miserable. ‘Explaining this to Henry . . . he is a sick man, you know. He’ll take it badly.’

‘All the more reason for you to be the one to tell him. We’ll spend the night keeping watch downstairs. Alice knows you? She trusts you? She’ll let you in?’

Jessica took a decision. ‘Yes, Alice knows me. She also knows
who
I am.’

‘What?’ I yelped. ‘She knows you’re Henry’s daughter?’

Jessica pulled a rueful grimace. ‘I didn’t tell her. The sort of job she’s had looking after Henry she’s done before in other families. I imagine she’s seen it all. She recognised a resemblance between Henry and me. There was something in my attitude when I was with him, she told me. She guessed I was his daughter.’

Alice looked relieved when she saw us. We needn’t have doubted she would let us in. She practically pulled Jessica through the front door and I trotted in behind her.

‘Oh, Mrs Davis, I am glad you’re here! The police have phoned and said they are sending over two officers to stay in the house. They seem to think someone may try and get in and harm Mr Culpeper. What
is
going on?’

Jessica patted her arm. ‘It’s all right, Alice. I’m going to stay, police presence or not, and so is Fran. You remember Fran?’

‘Yes, I do.’ The gaze Alice turned on me was far less welcoming. ‘Mr Culpeper hasn’t been the same since you came to see him. He had a really bad night last night, hardly slept. This morning I sent for his doctor. He came about an hour ago and said Mr Culpeper was stressed. I should say he is! He keeps talking about someone called Edna. He keeps saying he must see Edna. Who is Edna? Was she his wife?’

‘Is anyone with my father now?’ Jessica demanded.

‘He’s asleep, Mrs Davis. The doctor has given him something to settle him and what with being awake nearly all night, he just went off to sleep like a baby. It’s the best thing.’

‘Then we can’t talk to him - or the police, they can’t either?’ Jessica demanded.

‘Believe me, Mrs Davis, he’s out for the count. No one will be able to talk to Mr Culpeper before tomorrow morning, that’s my guess.’

I caught Jessica’s eye. ‘Perfect for Adam . . .’ I muttered. ‘The old boy is lying up there unconscious.’

She looked frightened.

‘Are there any other staff in the house?’ I asked Alice.

She shook her head. ‘I sent Mrs da Souza, the cook, home. She comes in daily and clearly she wouldn’t be needed today. If Mr Culpeper had wanted a snack, I could have prepared it for him but the doctor’s pills have just put him out. The only other staff member is the cleaner. She comes in twice weekly and today isn’t one of her days.’

I thought that Alice had a pretty enviable job. A lot of responsibility, of course, but she didn’t cook or clean and she lived here in luxury. She had a strong interest in preserving her employer safe and sound. Nor was Mrs da Souza overburdened. There wouldn’t be many dinner parties here to cook for, just old Henry and Alice with the occasional family lunch when the grandchildren visited. I bet the twice-weekly cleaner didn’t suffer repetitive strain injury in her dusting arm, either.

‘Is there a gardener?’ I asked, remembering the immaculate view from Henry’s window.

‘Landscaping firm does it,’ said Jessica. ‘They come every six weeks and just keep it ticking over.’

Another set of people doing nicely out of Culpeper. If you’re rich, you can buy all you need, but it struck me these people were a little like parasites.

The two officers turned up about half an hour later. Morgan didn’t let grass grow under her feet. They were a man and a woman, and neither of them was pleased to see Jessica and me. They suggested we go home and leave this to them.

Jessica insisted she wouldn’t leave her father and she wanted me there for moral support. She exhibited an unexpectedly steely attitude and eventually, after telephoning for instructions, they gave in. They told us to stay downstairs and should there be any trouble ‘which we are not anticipating. This is purely a precautionary exercise,’ we must keep out of the way.

Jessica went upstairs with the woman police officer and cautiously looked in on her father. He was still asleep.

It was a funny sort of afternoon. Alice fixed us something to eat at one point, ham sandwiches and sponge cake, but I didn’t eat much myself. Neither did Jessica. The two cops tucked in placidly. It was just another job to them. I found some books and started to read but my mind wasn’t on it. I wondered if it would be in order to phone Ganesh but realised it wouldn’t. No one was supposed to know we were here.

From time to time either Jessica or Alice checked on Henry but he slept on. The pills must have been strong enough to knock out a horse.

The unreality lasted until about ten that night when Alice, after producing a second lot of ham sandwiches, went up to bed. Two different officers replaced the original ones, both men this time. They sat in the kitchen reading tabloid newspapers, eating the fresh lot of sandwiches and drinking endless cups of tea. Occasionally one of them would take a walk round the house checking windows and then go back to his mate. Eventually, even they switched off the lights and found themselves armchairs in a sitting room to snooze in.

Jessica and I remained wide awake. The place was creepily quiet.You wouldn’t have believed you were in the middle of London, or not far off the busy heart. We had retreated to what Jessica told me had been Henry’s den before the operations on his legs had left him marooned upstairs. There was a big old leather chesterfield sofa in it and I clambered up on that. Jessica took a reclining chair. Neither of us spoke much. I knew she was awake, although I couldn’t see her, and she knew I was sleepless.

Once she whispered, ‘No one can get in, Fran.’

‘The burglar alarm is off,’ I pointed out. ‘Otherwise we or those two coppers would set it off, moving around downstairs.’

‘But the security grilles are over all the downstairs windows and the main gate is shut.’

‘Adam has a remote control to operate the gate.’

‘Well, yes. But we’d hear it. The gate squeaks and it’s so quiet now. I think we’d know if he operated it. And even though the burglar alarm is off, the security lights outside are working. If anyone is out there, they’ll switch on automatically.’

‘What about the river edge of the property?’

‘There’s an electronic trip. If anyone passes through the beam all hell breaks loose.’

It was what I’d expected. But something still worried me. I wished I knew what it was.

The air was warm and stuffy. The leather of the chesterfield had a soporific odour all of its own. Eventually I dozed off.

I don’t know what wakened me. It was no more than a creak of wood. Overnight as temperatures change and cool, wood settles and emits its own range of muted sounds. But this was a sharper sound. I opened my eyes.

‘Jessica?’ I whispered.

A faint snore answered me.

I slid off the chesterfield and crept to the door, letting myself out into the hall. I couldn’t hear either of the cops but possibly the sound I had heard came from one of them doing the rounds, checking. The creak came again. It was overhead and if I was right in my orienteering, it came from the corridor leading to Henry’s bedroom, adjacent to the day room in which I’d visited him.

‘Our protection squad, Fran, just doing their job,’ I told myself, ‘patrolling the house.’

Outside the house no security lights had come on but I still went to the window and peered out between the diamond lattices of the security grille. The garden was bathed in silvery moonlight, as bright as day except that all colour had been bleached out. If any prowler had been out there I’d have seen him. Even so it would do no harm to check indoors.

I moved slowly up the staircase, keeping to one side to minimise any creaks caused by my own progress.

On the upper corridor the same bright moonlight shone in through a window at the far end. By it I could see that the door of Henry’s bedroom was ajar.

I told myself it had been left like that so that either of the officers could check on the room’s occupant without disturbing him, but I still didn’t like it.