We were a little later leaving than we’d planned, because Vinnie had slept in. He was apologetic, and explained he’d been up until three in the morning talking things through on a video call with Vaseem.
“He’s said I’m not to go back there today,” he announced as we waited, with annoyance, at yet another set of red traffic lights, “but I told him I had to. I’ve brought my own food. And water. You?”
Bud sounded surprised, and concerned, when he said, “That didn’t occur to me…”
“It did to me,” I replied. “Until someone tells us how everyone died, we’ll only consume what we’ve taken to Beulah House ourselves. I packed appropriately.” I pointed at the large tote at my feet.
Bud shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and we both kept quiet so Vinnie could concentrate on the driving.
When we finally arrived at Beulah House, Vinnie dropped us at the front, and drove the car around to the back. The house looked bleak and unwelcoming in the pre-sunrise twilight. We rang the bell and waited…and waited. We’d made surprisingly good time, and it was only ten to eight – but both Bud and I were puzzled that no one answered the door.
“Should we try the coach house?” Bud waved in the building’s general direction. “I know the latch thing is down, and there are no lights on, but John and Bella could be there. Maybe they slept in?”
We walked across and knocked on the heavy wooden door. There was no response. Bud knocked again – harder this time, still nothing. He tried the latch, which lifted easily, then pushed open the door. It creaked, loudly.
“Hello? John? Bella?” Bud shouted before setting a foot inside. Silence. He stuck his head in, clicked a light switch, and I leaned in too. The coach house was – essentially – a large open space with a kitchen at one end, a lounge at the other and a bedroom up on a platform, with a balustrade surrounding it. The bed itself was clearly visible, and it was empty. The position of the kitchen, in relation to one of the outer walls, suggested to me the bathroom was hidden behind it – allowing for all the plumbing to be in one general area, I supposed.
The entire place was…well, to say it was a riot of decorative objects would be putting it mildly. Bella’s artistic bent had been given full rein, and there wasn’t an inch of wall, or surface of any sort, that wasn’t bedecked with patterned fabric, a piece of decorative pottery, or a wall hanging or painting of some sort. It was utterly overwhelming, and – given the fact there were only a couple of small windows – terribly claustrophobic. The place stank of sandalwood and patchouli; there were incense sticks, pots of oil, and perfumed lotions, dotted on many surfaces.
Bud made a face that implied he felt the same way as I did about the décor and odor, then we both shouted John and Bella’s names again. There was no way they couldn’t have heard us, if they were there.
“Hello.” We spun around to see Vinnie standing in the open doorway. “Are they not there, then? That’s odd. The back door of the main house was open.”
We turned off the lights, shut the latch and walked across the courtyard again. “No sign of them there,” said Bud. “Are they in the house?”
Vinnie shrugged. “I didn’t see them, and got no answer when I called out, but then I didn’t go looking for them, either.”
We reached the door of the main house and entered. Bud shouted again, and the three of us strained to hear anything at all. The silence was deafening. Bud’s body stiffened. He, Vinnie, and I became fully alert; the number of deaths in the house so far was making us all worry about John and Bella’s wellbeing.
“The last time we arrived and couldn’t find them they’d been up in the palace room,” I said.
Bud spoke rapidly. “Vinnie – palace room, Cait – ground floor, I’ll take the floor with the bedrooms. Go.” We went.
Five minutes later, we all agreed John and Bella weren’t in the house, just as a car arrived with Worthington and Enderby inside, and another car pulled up, carrying Felicity and Renata. Bud went outside to talk to Worthington, and I said to Vinnie, “I’m going to check the stables and Bella’s workshop, in the back garden.”
“Just wait a minute now, Cait, Bud’ll be back in a…” But I was gone, before he’d finished speaking.
I rushed through the French doors and checked every open area of the summer house using the flashlight on my phone as I strode past. It was deserted. I noticed the rill was still frozen, but put that out of my mind – other than to remind myself it was still slippery underfoot. I could just about discern the ivy-covered outline of Bella’s workshop beneath the lightening sky. I reached it, found the door and pulled it open. Inside, the brazier in the center of the room was giving off a surprising amount of heat, and a reddish glow. I shone my flashlight around the stone walls, rough-hewn workbenches, and dusty floor, until it illuminated a couple of naked figures curled together in one corner, snuggling on a mattress beneath a rather inadequate couple of quilts.
“John? Bella?” I shouted.
John sat bolt upright, grabbed a quilt, and hid his eyes from the glare of the flashlight. “What? Cait, is that you? What time is it?”
“What on earth are you both doing here?” I asked – perfectly reasonably, I thought.
“What do you think?” Bella sounded half asleep.
“Here? In the middle of winter? When it’s freezing outside?”
Bud arrived, panting, just as I stepped into the workshop. “What’s going…oh…you’re here. Are you both okay?”
“We were,” replied Bella grumpily. She tugged at the quilt John was clenching beneath his chin, but he wouldn’t let go. His face told a tale of confusion, and embarrassment.
Bud touched my sleeve. “Tell you what, why don’t we let you guys get your act together, then you can come up to the house. Worthington’s arrived – well, everyone’s here, in fact. I suggest you don’t hang about.”
As Bud and I stepped out, John called, “Could someone put the kettle on, please?”
“I’ll sort it,” I replied, and pushed the door shut.
“Don’t say it, Cait,” said Bud. “Not necessary. Whatever made them spend the night in there I don’t know…but I guess they’ll have a reason. Even if it’s a dumb one. We’d better get Worthington to stand down; he was extremely concerned that we couldn’t locate them.”
We walked toward the house, waving, and giving thumbs-up signs to Vinnie through the window. I said to Bud, “Did you manage to take in what that place was like?”
Bud sighed. “Not really. All I saw was a man acting like an idiotic teen for some reason or other.”
“It was full of chemicals,” I continued. “And one in particular that might be of concern – mercury. Even at room temperature it gives off a toxic vapor that works on the nervous system – one that can cause many of the symptoms displayed by Piers, Charles, and Sir Simon. Funnily enough, I was thinking about thermometers, and mercury, only this morning…now there it is in Bella’s workshop.”
Bud was distracted. “Not now, Cait. Besides, we don’t know that anyone’s been poisoned with mercury or anything else. Can we just get inside, see what Worthington wants, and start to get this all behind us?”
I stopped walking, and pulled on his hand to stop Bud too. “What’s wrong, Husband?”
Just one look told me Bud was worried. “John’s not…I mean, he’s acting…this isn’t normal behavior for him, Cait. He’s a sound man when it comes to appointments and rules. I don’t know of him ever having missed one, or broken one – and to be lolling about, out there like that, when he knew Worthington was due? It’s as though…it’s like he’s gone feral. It’s…not right. Not John.”
His deep concern was audible, and my heart broke just a little for him; to suspect that someone you’ve always been able to rely upon might no longer be the rock you’d always believed them to be is an incredibly difficult emotion to manage. It’s like grief, in a way. I weighed whether I should help him rationalize, offering excuses for John – like, maybe he’d forgotten to set an alarm call after one too many last night? – but I knew Bud well enough to realize that wasn’t what he needed from me at that moment; he was more than capable of working through that thought process all by himself.
All I could do was hug him and say, “When you want to talk, we’ll talk. But, meanwhile, know I’m here for you, in any way you need.”
Bud kissed my forehead. “Thanks.” We walked on, to be greeted by Vinnie at the French doors.
“He’s good at being polite when he’s livid, is that one,” he said, nodding toward Worthington.
“I bet,” replied Bud, somberly.
“Dining room, five minutes,” called Worthington, leaving the salon.
Felicity had chosen to present herself as though attending a funeral where deepest mourning was the order of the day, while Renata was sporting yet another trouser suit in an unflattering shade of brown. Seeing just the two of them sitting in the salon made the tremendous loss of life over the past few days feel even more real; it was a dreadful toll, and it steeled me to screw up my determination to find out what on earth was going on.
The arrival of John and Bella would have been comical under any other circumstances; but no one even smiled. “Just going to grab some clean clothes,” said John, as he and Bella scampered through the salon clutching their quilts. They ran out of the front door – heading for the coach house, I assumed. Bud looked disappointed and embarrassed; my heart went out to him. I felt useless.
“Time to face the music,” said Renata as she stood, and headed for the dining room which had been returned to its closed state.
We all shuffled in, without an ounce of enthusiasm, and took our seats. Everyone – without exception – put a bottle of water on the table in front of them that they produced from a bag or pocket. I passed one to Bud, who took it, opened it, and drank half of it right away.
Worthington glared at his watch. Enderby sat quietly. Felicity bounced her knees. Renata placed both her palms on the table. Vinnie kept smiling and nodding at everyone, but was ignored. Bud stared into space, and I counted my teeth with my tongue to stop myself from asking Worthington all the questions I wanted answered right there and then.
John and Bella slid into the room and sat down silently.
“Glen won’t be joining us,” opened Worthington. “It would be too painful for him to be here, now, and I have spoken with him privately. Thank you all for being here.” He made a point of not looking at John and Bella. “This is a trying, and tragic time, for you all, I am sure. For me, it’s my job to deal with death on a regular basis – for some of you here I know it’s a blessed rarity, but it’s the reality we all have to face together at this time. I have good reason to believe that none of the deaths that have taken place here at Beulah House have arisen from entirely natural causes. As such, it behoves me to now speak to each of you in private, with a view to establishing the truth behind these occurrences. No one person is suspect at this time, but I’m telling you all that if you believe you require legal representation, or consultation, prior to my interviewing you, then now would be the time to contact whomever you wish to advise you.” His tone was serious, his face set grim. The expressions around the table told me no one was about to rush off to phone a solicitor.
He sighed. “Once again, I shall be using the meeting room for interviews, due to the fact it offers privacy. I would ask everyone to continue to not discuss the deaths of your friends and family members with anyone. Thank you.” He stood. “Professor Morgan, I’d like to interview you first, if you please.”
My tummy clenched – with excitement. Was he going to let me ask my questions now? And would he be able to give me the answers I needed?