The Cat Next Door (19 page)

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Authors: Marian Babson

BOOK: The Cat Next Door
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‘That will come,' Kingsley said comfortingly.
Would it
? Now that there had been a second unresolved death here? It seemed unlikely.
And yet, this was the family garden, the family home. She could not see Uncle Wilfred selling up and moving away. He and Aunt Milly had always loved the place so much, they were so deeply rooted here. Where would they go?
Margot shivered. The sun had gone down and the autumn chill in the air was making itself felt. A sharp gust of wind scattered petals from the dying roses over them, some hitting her cheeks then falling on Tikki in her lap.
‘The last rose of summer …' Kingsley caught one of the petals, rubbing it thoughtfully between his fingers.
‘Why can't this be over?' Verity burst out. ‘Why can't everyone leave us alone and everything go back to being the way it was?'
‘Because two women are dead,' Margot said. ‘Murdered.' Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
‘That's silly!' Verity said. ‘They were accidents. Chloe got into a fight with Claudia and hit her, forgetting that she was holding a knife. It was just bad luck that she hit a vital spot and Claudia died. And that travel woman, prowling around where she had no right to be, tripped and fell into the pond and drowned.'
Was that what had happened? It sounded almost plausible. Especially if you substituted the name Verity for Chloe in the first instance. It was only too easy to imagine Verity, jealous and goaded beyond endurance, flying at Claudia with a knife she had ‘forgotten'.
What about ‘that travel woman'? Verity handled all the travel arrangements, Kingsley had said. And Verity had been quick to point out that the agency had been very expensive. Had Claudia and Kingsley been too trusting, leaving arrangements – and payments – to Verity? Had Verity been inflating invoices and skimming off the extra for herself? Or had she been cheating Polly Parsons in some way? And had the travel agent found out and arrived to expose her?
Or had she been discovered earlier, by Claudia, who had made the mistake of confronting her before telling Kingsley about it? Verity would not have hesitated to kill to keep Kingsley from knowing.
Had Verity killed Claudia, not in an insane burst of jealousy, but just to cover up a bit of common ordinary larceny? Could it be as simple as that?
‘ … Verity? … Margot?' Nan's voice could be heard calling, coming closer. ‘Ah — here you are.' She came into sight and advanced on Verity. ‘I've brought you your water.'
‘Oh,' Verity said flatly. ‘How kind.' By this time, she had forgotten she had ever asked for it. ‘You shouldn't have bothered.'
‘No bother at all.' Nan held the glass out to her. ‘I brought a couple of aspirins, too, they can't do any harm.'
‘So kind.' Verity looked at them as though she was not too sure of that. She made no attempt to take them. Did she think they might be poison?
‘It's getting cold out here.' Nan looked around and shivered. ‘Come inside and have a drink before – You
are
staying for dinner?'
‘I don't know.' Verity looked to Kingsley.
‘You can stay,' he told her. It was not the answer she wanted. ‘I'm afraid I must get back to town.'
‘You're always so busy.' Nan's tone was just short of scolding. ‘You ought to spend an evening here with Lynette. Have dinner with her in her room and play
cards afterwards, or just watch television. It would do Lynette a world of good.'
‘Lynette …' Kingsley sighed deeply. ‘You're right, I know. I must organise things so that I can spend more time with her. Perhaps, if she continues to improve, we could take a little trip together, just the two of us – '
‘Oh!' Verity's sharp involuntary movement had sent water splashing into her lap. ‘Oh!' She leaped to her feet, dropping the glass; more water showered her before the glass hit the grass to roll away unbroken.
‘Look at that!' Nan said. ‘You can't stay out here now, you'll catch your death of cold. Come inside and we'll find you something dry to wear.'
‘Yes … No …' Verity was trying to brush away the water which was rapidly saturating her skirt.
‘All right.' She surrendered ungraciously. Nan took her elbow and urged her firmly towards the house. Verity looked back over her shoulder, obviously unwilling to leave Margot and Kingsley alone together.
But it was Lynette who was her real rival. First Claudia and now Lynette. Verity would never command the whole-hearted devotion she craved, the undivided attention she longed for from Kingsley … not while Lynette was alive to come between them.
If Kingsley were to marry Verity, how long would Lynette survive?
‘I suppose we ought to go in, too.' Kingsley had risen to his feet, now he turned to Margot.
‘Wait!' She had to warn him.
‘Yes?' He looked down at her with a trace of impatience. ‘What is it?'
‘ … Verity,' Margot stammered. ‘Verity did it.'
‘Did what?'
‘Verity,' she said softly but clearly, ‘killed that woman.'
‘Nonsense!' Kingsley spoke with absolute conviction. ‘She couldn't possibly.'
‘She did. And … and probably Claudia, too.'
‘Now just a minute – ' Kingsley started to sit down on the bench beside her, then changed his mind. Did he think she might be dangerous, that she might attack him? ‘That's a very serious accusation. Verity could sue you for slander. How many people have you told this?'
‘No one else. Yet. I've just realised it.'
‘Then you'd better unrealise it. I know you've never liked Verity, but that's a terrible thing to say. Why would Verity want to kill anyone?'
‘Because Polly Parsons had found out what she was doing and was going to tell you.'
‘Oh?' His voice was carefully neutral. ‘And just what was Verity doing?'
‘She was stealing money from you.'
‘Oh? What makes you think that?'
‘Verity handled all your travel arrangements — even for your holidays. And she said PoP Tours were very expensive. That was her excuse. They weren't as expensive as she'd like to have you believe. She was inflating the invoices and keeping the difference for herself.'
‘No, Margot, no.' He exhaled a long breath before asking curiously, ‘And Claudia? Why should she have killed Claudia?'
‘Claudia was the first to find out. She confronted Verity and threatened to tell you, perhaps even tell the police. Verity couldn't face that, so …' Margot trailed off, she could see Kingsley shaking his head in denial.
‘Not plausible, Margot.' Spite and irony struggled for the ascendancy in his voice. ‘If that had been the situation, it was far more likely that my late lady, in one of her wild antic moods, would have laughed like a drain – and demanded that Verity split the proceeds with her.'
‘Kingsley!'
‘Come now, Margot. You knew Claudia. You can't pretend that she was … conventional.'
‘No …' Margot whispered. Conventional was not the word for Claudia. ‘But that was why you married her. Because she was different … exciting … unconventional.'
‘Was it? I can hardly remember now.' The spite won, but it was not directed against her. ‘Unfortunately, I had no idea just how “different” she was. Or, perhaps more accurately, how different she would grow to be. The years change us all – some more than others. Claudia most of all.'
‘Kingsley – '
‘I'm only thankful that Lynette doesn't seem to have inherited Claudia's wild streak.'
Wild?
Well, yes … at moments. More frequent moments as the years went on, Kingsley seemed to be implying. More disturbingly, he was casting new light on what had always seemed to be a perfect marriage.
‘Margot – ' Kingsley knelt beside her, one hand reaching out to rest lightly on her knee. ‘Try to understand – '
Her slight involuntary recoil disturbed Tikki, who
yawned and stretched, his extended claws brushing Kingsley's hand. Kingsley withdrew his hand quickly.
‘Margot – ' He steadied himself by the armrest of the bench instead. ‘I promise you, you're wrong. Verity had nothing to do with all this.'
‘I'm afraid I find that rather hard to believe.' Everything fitted together so well – especially the part about Kingsley being too trusting. ‘I think we ought to tell the police and let them decide.'
‘No, Margot, I can't let you do this to Verity.' Kingsley rose, leaning heavily on the armrest. ‘I know none of you have ever liked her, but Verity has been my right arm for many years now. I don't know what I'd have done without her.'
‘Even though she killed your wife?'
‘Verity did
not
kill Claudia.' Kingsley took a deep unsteady breath. ‘I did.'
‘What?' Margot was on her feet, too, facing him in the deepening twilight. Dislodged, an indignant Tikki hit the lawn and spat a protest before stalking off.
‘I didn't mean to.' There was a hollow note in his voice. Well,
he would say that, wouldn't he?
‘She shocked me so … and then she tried to throw herself into my arms, laughing, laughing … I just struck out to … to push her away. Verity was right: you can forget you have a knife in your hand.'
He didn't seem to have one now.
Margot began backing away cautiously.
‘No, wait!' He stretched out an imploring hand, but let it fall when she flinched. ‘Let me explain – '
‘Explain?' Did he really think that was all that was necessary?
‘Let me try. Claudia – ' His voice broke. ‘You knew Claudia. But you didn't know the way she was changing – '
‘I hadn't seen her in the past few years.'
‘No, you hadn't, but it had been going on for longer than that. Ever since —'
‘For God's sake, sit down!' he snapped suddenly.
‘I'm all right as I am.' Margot gained another backward step. ‘Go on, I'm listening.'
‘But are you understanding?' He took a step in her direction. ‘No, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.'
‘Oh?'
If he had killed his wife, what chance did she have?
Perhaps Claudia hadn't understood, either. If only her legs felt strong enough to sustain her in a sudden dash to the house – and safety. The garden was too dangerous a place with Kingsley in it.
‘Claudia was always … erratic. You must admit that. You never knew what she'd do next.'
He had a point there. Margot nodded careful agreement.
‘She thrived on excitement, lived for adventure, was … was addicted to the adrenaline rush. After that first … episode … when we were captured and held hostage … she became worse … more addicted. When we went on subsequent fact-finding missions, she insisted on being taken into the mountains, or the jungle, or wherever “the action” was. She upset our hosts, she worried me, she was beginning to attract the attention of the Foreign Office. I didn't know what to do.'
‘Killing her was a bit extreme.' The caustic remark slipped out before Margot could stop it.
‘It wasn't necessary … then,' he said absently. ‘She discovered PoP Tours. I don't know how. Perhaps someone with her … tastes … told her about them. Perhaps PoP contacted her directly, they seem to have their own ways of knowing who might be interested in what they had to offer.
‘I was relieved … at first. I even accompanied her in the beginning – ' He made a curious sound, half-laugh, half-sob. ‘I wanted to make sure she'd be safe on them. After that, she usually went by herself. Verity was right — their tours were a lot more expensive than most, but they were worth it. They kept Claudia happy.'
‘Nan said Claudia had just come back from the most wonderful tour of her life,' Margot said softly.
‘Oh, God!' Kingsley buried his face in his hands. ‘You don't know why she had such a wonderful time! Why it was the most thrilling trip of her life!'
‘No.' Margot took another step backwards, realising suddenly that she did not want to know.
‘You might have guessed. You knew Claudia. When Claudia was happy, it usually meant that she was making someone else miserable.'
‘Kingsley!' But the protest was faint. She
had
known Claudia – and too many unpleasant possibilities were suddenly crowding into her mind.
‘That last most wonderful trip of her life was the one where Claudia crossed the dividing line. She was no longer content to be an observer, she wanted to be a participant. Not because she believed in any particular cause, not that she gave a damn about any rights or wrongs – ' His voice choked with anguish.
‘She just wanted to kill!'
‘No!' The world began spinning around her. Margot stumbled and fell into the nearest chair. She could not disbelieve him. Too many fragmented memories, disjointed phrases in Claudia's voice, were swirling through her mind.
‘How funny … Did you see him jump?'
When Claudia had deliberately aimed the car at the elderly man on the pedestrian crossing, slamming on the brakes at the last possible moment.
‘He thought I was actually going to hit him.'
…
‘Shoplifting? How funny … how funny.'
Wild, wild Claudia, growing ever wilder, until …
‘And she did,' Kingsley went on relentlessly. ‘Some poor bloody peasant, a civilian, going about his lawful concerns, trying to dodge the crossfire between opposing factions. He never even noticed Claudia playing sniper. One moment he was there, the next moment he was a heap of rags in the dust. And Claudia had her great big thrill. Now she knew what it felt like to kill.'
‘So do you,' Margot whispered.
‘Not the same,' he refuted indignantly. ‘Not the same thing at all. I didn't do it for a thrill … it was a necessity.'
‘Necessity?'
‘Don't you see? She enjoyed it … loved it. It was so much fun for her that she was already planning her next trip. She was going to do it again!'
‘No!' But she knew he was right. Nan had already told her that.
‘Back to the same place
…'
‘She – she was boasting about it. She couldn't wait to get back there and play sniper some more. She … she'd turned into a monster. And she laughed and tried to throw herself into my arms. She thought I'd laugh, too. What did a few poverty-stricken peasants matter? I had to stop her. You do understand, don't you?'
‘Yes …' she whispered, overwhelmed by the thought of the horror and revulsion Kingsley must have felt as he listened to Claudia's story of her ultimate thrill. No wonder he had lashed out at her unthinkingly – But what was he doing with a knife in his hand in the first place? And also –
‘Chloe …' The sympathy drained away abruptly. ‘How could you have let Chloe take the blame?'
‘I didn't mean to, I swear it. I was going to carry Claudia to the car and drive her somewhere … where I could leave her. Only Lynette appeared suddenly. She didn't see me; I was in the shadows. She was looking for the cat — he lived here then. She saw her mother, went forward and bent over her. Then Chloe came and saw them both and pulled the knife out. I don't know what happened next. I … I blacked out. When I came to, I was back in the London flat. I was in shock, I must have driven back to town on automatic pilot …'
‘Lynette thought Chloe had killed her mother.' That was a possibility Margot had considered before. ‘And Chloe thought Lynette had done it.'
‘Time warps at a moment like that. Lynette didn't
remember that she got there first. When Chloe pulled out the knife, it must have been such a shock for her that she thought she'd discovered them that way.”
‘But, when you found yourself in London, you didn't come back to clear Chloe.'
‘At first, I thought it was all a nightmare. I'd almost convinced myself of that when they rang from St Albans to tell me the news. I went into shock again … had a complete breakdown. The party rushed me into The Priory … I don't remember much about that time. When I got out, I found that Chloe was in custody. She wouldn't talk on the phone or answer letters. I began to wonder if Claudia had still been alive when they found her and Chloe
had
killed her — by pulling out the knife. That can happen, you know.'
‘Chloe thought she was protecting Lynette.' Margot's sympathy wavered, responding to his need, then falling again as she remembered:
‘And what about Polly Parsons?'
‘Ah, yes, her.' He sounded as though he had hoped they could forget about her. ‘She'd been out of the country at that time. An extended round-the-world tour of global destruction, I believe. She was most upset to get back and learn about Claudia. I think she felt she'd lost one of her best clients. She wanted to discuss … taking up the slack, as it were.'
‘Blackmail?' Had Polly Parsons lived on the edge of impersonal peril for so long that she had forgotten how much more dangerous the personal could be?
‘Oh, she didn't call it that. She just said that she knew how thrilled and delighted Claudia had been with her last trip. She knew why, too. She mentioned writing travel articles for magazines … newspapers. I felt she couldn't be trusted. We've had too much experience of chequebook journalism. If the tabloids were to get a whiff of her story —' He shrugged. ‘I could never afford to pay her enough to match the sums they could offer.
It would be front page news – and it would drag us all down – '
‘So you killed her, too.'

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