Chapter 22
I tossed and turned most of the night. My wrist was bothering me where I’d landed on it, and I had a throbbing pain in my knee that hurt when I lay on it, but that wasn’t what was keeping me awake.
Did someone try to kill me? Am I getting so close to solving the crime or crimes, I have to be eliminated? Does someone think, incorrectly, I’m close to discovering the truth?
Susannah seemed to genuinely not know why anyone would try to kill or scare her. I didn’t know why anyone would try to kill or scare me. I didn’t know anyone in England, other than the people in this hotel.
It was possible, I suppose, the car had been driven by a drunk driver or a kid on a joyride, who lost control and took off in fright at the realization of what almost happened. But if not? Would they try again?
Had someone been following us? Or had they happened to see us out walking and decided to head straight for us on the spur of the moment?
Perhaps it was deliberate, but not aimed specifically at Susannah or at me. Someone looking for trouble who decided it would be great fun to give a couple of women a fright.
While Simon was in the shower, I’d taken out my phone and studied a map of the roads in the area. We’d been about a half a mile from the hotel, coming in sight of the pub on the corner. In the other direction, a mile past the driveway leading to Thornecroft Castle House and Hotel, an intersection met a road that circled around and joined the one running along the front of the White Hart. Traffic had been light as we walked, but the street was not empty, and I’d paid no attention to passing vehicles. It would have been possible for someone to see us as they drove toward the hotel, to decide to do—something—take the next intersection, and make a circle to come toward us again.
I thought about what Capretti asked me in the dining room earlier. Had Susannah, not me, been the target? That was as possible as anything else. Did Susannah know something about Julien’s death she didn’t know she knew? Might she have seen something, heard something, which pointed to the killer? If so, the attempt on her life was pretty feeble. Surely the killer would have been able to come up with something more guaranteed to succeed. If anything, the incident served nothing but to focus her mind on possible reasons for it, as it had done mine.
As for me, did this person want to scare us into leaving Thornecroft earlier than we’d planned? Seemed rather a lot of trouble to go to, considering we were due to check out the day after tomorrow. If I’d been injured in the incident, our departure would have been delayed.
Tony had pretty much ordered us to get out of his hotel, but he retracted that when reminded Simon had saved Susannah.
I went over what I knew. I had to know something. I had to have come across something someone didn’t want me to figure out.
The death of Julien. The disappearance of the Frockmorton Sapphires. How were those two things related, if at all? It’s possible someone killed Julien to cause chaos in order to give them time to get away with the gems, but murder did seem a mite far-fetched.
As Simon pointed out, I didn’t know much about these people and their lives. All I could do was to go over, once again, what I did know.
If I considered nonfamily members, the only people I was aware the police suspected were Ian Carver, Josh Hansen, and Dr. Alicia Boyle. And the only reason I knew that was the police had told me. Ian, I dismissed, and I remained confident in doing so. No chef would poison his own food and hope to get away with it. As for Alicia, if some political shenanigans had been going on there, the police likely knew about it. Josh had freely admitted to a couple of run-ins with Julien, but if so, then it was possible, likely even, other people had also. I believed Josh when he said if he’d killed Julien, he would have been a lot more upfront about it.
As for the family, Julien and his sister Jacqueline wanted to take control of the hotel and the related businesses from their grandmother, Elizabeth. Julien was in a hurry; he wanted to do it immediately. His sister said they needed to wait.
What did take control even mean? Elizabeth was the primary owner of the businesses, but she was no longer managing things. She didn’t make the decisions.
Not the day-to-day decisions, no. Tony managed the hotel, and I presumed Elizabeth had people who took care of the other interests. But if someone, such as Julien and Jacqueline, wanted to do something major, such as sell the hotel out from under her, Elizabeth could and would intervene.
I’d been told more than once the family was not wealthy. What they owned was wrapped up in Thornecroft Castle House, the neighboring farms, and some rental properties. To realize the value of those things, they would have to be sold.
The gems were about to be sold, which would bring a substantial amount of cash to the family and their businesses. Was it possible the Frockmorton Sapphires were fakes? Had the real ones been sold years ago and imitations substituted so Elizabeth wouldn’t know? They’d been in a bank vault for decades. Who had access to the vault other than Elizabeth? I had no way of knowing or of finding out.
As for the inheritance, if someone, Jacqueline or Emma, for instance, even Tony or Susannah, wanted to get their hands on the inheritance, Julien was the wrong person to kill. His father and his grandmother were still alive. Killing Julien wouldn’t benefit anyone financially. Except, I suppose, Carmela, who would not have to go to the bother of a nasty, drawn-out divorce. Regarding the claim to the title of Earl of Frockmorton, Emma seemed to be delighted that the death of Julien left Robert without a son, so upon Robert’s death her father, Thomas, would become the new earl. But it was less than guaranteed Robert would predecease his younger brother.
Was Robert in danger? I hadn’t had great deal of contact with the current Earl of Frockmorton, but I hadn’t seen any signs of security around him.
So much I didn’t know. My mind wandered. I chuckled to myself when I remembered the look on Carmela’s face when Tony refused her offer of another drink and abruptly walked out of the bar. Carmela was trying far, far too hard. “For old times’ sake,” she’d said.
Yes, they’d had an affair at one time. Easy to assume Tony broke it off, and Carmela was not happy about that.
Still, as we all know, this is the twenty-first century. Neither Tony nor Carmela would have been disinherited and thrown out into the dark and stormy night penniless, to make their own way in the world, if news of their relationship came to light.
Not that, as far as Tony was concerned, there was a relationship. Not anymore.
What might Carmela do to woo him back? Kill her husband?
Possible. If she thought Tony left her because he didn’t want to be involved in her divorce proceedings.
Rose had speculated that Tony and Carmela might be acting. Pretending to be no longer together this weekend in front of the family. But the look on Carmela’s face when Tony walked out on her told me that was no act.
What might Carmela do to get Tony back? Threaten his sister?
I couldn’t see that working to her advantage at all.
* * *
As soon as I thought the time was reasonably decent, I texted Bernie: Feel like a walk before breakfast?
The reply was immediate. No.
At least she was up. I was still in bed, trying to type silently without turning on the light and disturbing Simon.
Me: Gotta talk about what happened yesterday. Can’t stop thinking about it.
Bernie: Fifteen minutes. Front door.
Lights were still on in the sitting room and behind the desk when I walked into the lobby, but the hotel was beginning to come to life. A vacuum cleaner roared in the hallway; cutlery tinkled in the dining rooms. The receptionist looked up from her computer and gave me a bright smile. “Good morning, Ms. Roberts. I’m sorry to say the weather appears to be turning. Rain expected later today, and temperatures will be dropping rapidly.”
“Not a problem. We didn’t come to Yorkshire in October for the beach and the sun.”
She laughed. “True, that.”
A yawning Bernie came down the hall, zipping up her padded vest. “This is supposed to be a vacation. Why am I getting up at the crack of dawn on vacation?”
“You were awake when I texted you.”
“Awake, but not up. Those are different things.” We edged away from the reception desk. “Okay,” she said, “I have to confess I spent some considerable time thinking about what’s been going on when I could have been sleeping. I’ve come to no conclusions. Have you?”
“No.”
“Did you learn anything from Capretti after you left the bar last night?” Bernie asked.
“Nothing concrete, but she said one or two things I’ve been mulling over.”
“Did you tell Rose what happened last night?”
“I didn’t. No point in worrying her.”
“It wouldn’t worry her, if we could tell her it was a near miss and an accident and wouldn’t happen again. Obviously, you and I are thinking such might not be the case.”
Deep in my pocket my phone buzzed with the distinctive sound that told me my grandmother was texting. “Do you think she’s psychic?” I said to Bernie.
“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
Rose: My spies tell me you and Bernie are up and going out. Come to my room.
I looked at the young woman behind the reception desk. Beth gave me a guilty wince and turned away.
Spies, indeed.
Bernie and I went to Rose’s room, where we found Lissie sitting patiently outside the door. I knocked and a few seconds later we, including the cat, were admitted. “I’m pleased to see you’re locking your door,” I said.
“Skullduggery is afoot.” My grandmother was in her nightgown, her hair standing on end, her face clear of makeup.
“What do you know about that?” Bernie asked.
“I know it’s easy to be a gossip and a snoop these days without leaving the comfort of one’s bed.” Rose nodded to the book on her side table. An earlier one of Matt’s. “I came across a confusing passage in this book last night, and so I texted the author himself for clarification. He might have mentioned you returned to the hotel without dinner because everyone had lost their appetite. Naturally, that is such a rare and unusual occurrence, I asked what happened to cause it. And he told me. A near miss with an out-of-control automobile.”
“I should have known,” Bernie said. “After you left with DS Capretti, Lily, Matt got a text, and he came over all shifty when he was replying.”
“I let you enjoy a good night’s sleep, hoping your subconscious would arrive at some conclusions,” Rose said. “Tea? Coffee? I have only been provided with two cups, but I can call for another.”
“I’ll wait until breakfast,” Bernie said. “I had some of that instant coffee the other day and it was beyond awful.”
“Tea for me, thanks,” I said.
Bernie sat in the chair by the desk, and I plopped myself down on the bed while Rose fussed with the tea things.
“I’ll have one of those shortbread cookies with the walnuts,” Bernie said. “Almost as good as Lily makes.”
“It’s the pure Yorkshire butter,” Rose said. “Beyond compare.”
“Does sheep’s milk make butter?”
“They do farm other animals, love.” Rose poured boiling water into the small tea pot provided.
“I haven’t seen any,” Bernie replied. “We did see two horses, though.”
Tea made, Rose poured. She added a splash of milk and a half teaspoon of sugar to two cups, handed me mine, tossed a packet of cookies to Bernie, and settled herself in the wingback chair under the window. Lissie made herself comfortable on the windowsill behind Rose’s chair. The sun was coming up and the first rays warming the room. “Now, tell me what happened. Leave nothing out.”
We did so. In the fresh light of a new morning the incident didn’t seem so bad. No one was hurt, except for a couple of bumps and bruises sustained when I hit the ground. It’s possible even if Simon hadn’t shoved us out of the way, the car wouldn’t have hit us. It wasn’t going all that fast; it climbed the curb, but stopped short of where we’d been standing.
“A failed attempt at killing or injuring someone is still an offense,” Rose said, “regardless of intent. The incident would likely not be worth concerning ourselves about except for what happened here earlier. I believe such is DS Capretti’s thinking as well, as she came out personally to discuss the matter with you. What are you thinking, love?”
“First, let’s go over what we know and what we don’t know, and what we can guess,” I said. “The motive for the theft of the sapphires is probably obvious—someone stole them intending to sell them. As for Julien, money, hopes of an inheritance, family rivalries, the settling of old scores. Might be lots of reasons. Might be none, but I can think of absolutely no reason someone would try to kill Susannah and/or me. Susannah might know something she’s not telling, but I don’t get that feeling from her. All she wanted to do last night was to be with her husband, not out hunting for whoever she believed tried to kill her. As for me, yes, I’ve been poking my nose where some might say it doesn’t belong, but what of it? I’ve learned nothing, and we’re due to go home tomorrow.”
“The two incidents don’t have to be directly related,” Bernie said.
“Three incidents,” I reminded her. “Do you think what happened last night was nothing but a bad driver?”
“I simply don’t know.”
“If Susannah wasn’t being warned off investigating, because she isn’t,” Rose said, “and Lily wasn’t being warned off, because she doesn’t know anything, we have to ask—” She paused dramatically.
“Enough of the drama, Rose,” I said. “Spit it out. We have to ask what?”
“Was a message being sent to someone else?”
“You think the driver of the car mistook us for someone else?”
“Not necessarily. Go back to your conversation with Capretti last night as you told it to us. She specifically mentioned Tony and Susannah are close, right?”
“Yes. She said it was nice to see siblings getting on. I guess in her line of work that’s not the norm. So?”
“Tony was angry, naturally, at what happened to Susannah.”
“I was angry at what almost happened to Lily,” Bernie said. “But if someone was trying to send us a message, we didn’t get it.”
“Not a message,” Rose said slowly, “but an attempt at getting attention. Carmela.”
Bernie leapt to her feet and punched the air. “Yup, I can see it.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said. “Carmela wasn’t even there when we came in. Everyone, particularly Tony, fussed over Susannah and me, asking if we were okay. No one paid any attention to Carmela when she did show up.”
Bernie paced up and down the small room. Lissie, Rose, and I watched her. “If Rose and I are thinking along the same lines, and we usually are—”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumbled.
“—We’re wondering if Carmela would have the nerve to try to kill Susannah, hoping that in his grief Tony would reach out to her, Carmela, for comfort. She might think he’d do that.”
“I’m pretty sure they were an item at one time,” I said. “Could she really be that desperate?”
“Who knows? She might not have even known what she was thinking. Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing. She saw Susannah and took her chance. That you were in the way was irrelevant.”
I thought about it for a long time. “She is, I believe, that desperate. There’s something about unrequited love that turns some people absolutely crazy. But it’s still a heck of a stretch, and I have my doubts.”
“What do you propose we do about it?” Rose asked.
“Nothing we can do,” I said. “All we have is a guess, and I’m not satisfied you’ve made the correct one. Even if we were sure about it, not only is there no evidence, no real harm was done.”
“We can subtly and discreetly ask Carmela if she took a car out last night around the time in question,” Bernie said.
“She’s not going to tell us if she did,” I said. “No matter how subtly and discreetly we ask.”
“If Carmela did try to kill, harm, or frighten Susannah, for nebulous reasons,” Bernie said, “isn’t it possible she’s also the sort to rid herself of a no-longer-necessary husband?”
“I’m still unsure about that,” I said.
“It wouldn’t hurt to have a friendly chat with her,” Rose said. “You can subtly and discretely let her know you know and warn her off trying something like that again.”
“I can do that,” Bernie said.
“No, you cannot. You are never subtle, Bernadette. Lily will have to do it.”
“What? How am I going to do that?
“Make friends with her. Chat comfortably and easily. Complain you suspect Simon is about to dump you and wait for her response.”
“I am not going to knock on the door to her room and say, ‘Hi, let’s be best friends and confidantes.’ Also, let me remind you, I’m the one finding it hard to believe she’s the one who drove at us.”
“All the more reason for you to chat with her. You are not convinced of her guilt. As for knocking on her door, that won’t be necessary. I’ve seen her heading into breakfast at precisely half nine, otherwise known as nine-thirty, every morning. It’s eight now. You have an hour and a half to plan your approach.” Rose stood up. “Bernadette and I will go to breakfast now.”
“Why?”
“So we are not there at half nine , when you arrive. You can’t sit all by yourself, now can you?”
“What about Simon and Matt?”
“A complication I failed to consider.”
“Matt’s up,” Bernie told us. “He wanted to get some research in before we go to Haworth later, so he ordered room service. I can have room service sent to Simon. Sort of a treat, like.” She reached for the phone. “Which means you’re banned from your room in the interval, Lily. Otherwise, he’ll question you as to what’s going on, and you’ll spill the tea.”
“Will that be so bad?”
“You don’t want him sitting on the other side of the breakfast room, trying not to look as though he’s ready to pounce in case Carmela makes a threatening move toward you. Yes, I’d like breakfast delivered, please. Room seven.”
I grumbled. It didn’t matter. It never mattered what I thought. Once Bernie and Rose had an idea in their heads, nothing I could say or do would convince them to change their minds.
I looked at them. At those familiar determined faces. Maybe that stubbornness is what I love about them so much.
* * *
Bernie and Rose headed for the dining room. Lissie jumped out of an open window in the hallway to check on what else was happening this morning, and I also went outside, but via the door. We were planning to go to the village of Haworth today, where the Brontë sisters had lived. Bernie was hoping the steep streets and windswept moors on which Charlotte, Emily, and Anne had wandered would inspire her own writing. I hoped it wouldn’t cause her to completely change the direction of her book.
Clouds the color of the fresh bruise around my knee were forming in the west. The wind was strong, and the scent of rain hung heavily in the cool air.
I went back inside. “I know it’s early,” I said to the receptionist, “but I’d like to talk to Lady Frockmorton, Elizabeth. Is she likely to be up, do you know?”
“She should be. She usually goes over notes about hotel activity and issues from the day before with her tea at seven, and breakfast is delivered to her rooms around now. I can call and ask if she’s available.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s not urgent. I have a question for her, that’s all.”
She placed the call. Someone answered almost immediately. “Lily Roberts would like to have a few minutes for a chat, Elizabeth. Are you free? I’ll tell her. Thank you.” She put the phone down. “Go ahead. She’s up and dressed.”
I made my way to Elizabeth’s rooms. I knocked lightly on the door and her voice called, “Come in.”
Elizabeth, Dowager Countess of Frockmorton, was seated at her desk. The computer screen showed a spreadsheet full of rows upon rows of numbers. A fine china teacup rested next to her computer. She wore a heavy wool sweater over pressed slacks, with modern sneakers of the sort that don’t need laces on her feet. “Lily. Good morning. I hope everything is all right. Your grandmother?”
“She’s well. She and my friend Bernie are having breakfast, but I decided to—uh, go for a walk first. Get it in while I can. They say it’s going to rain later.”
“In Yorkshire, one can always say it’s going to rain later and have a good chance of being correct. What can I do for you, dear? Please, take a seat. Tea?”
I perched on the edge of a chair. “No tea. Thank you. I understand this is none of my business, and please tell me if you think I’m intruding, but I have been wondering about the sudden death of your grandson.”
“You mean the murder of Julien. I’m sure you have. We all have, my dear. Detective Sergeant Capretti paid me a call yesterday evening. She had little new to tell me, but she did inform me that you and Susannah experienced an unfortunate incident earlier.” Her blue eyes were encased in folds of skin, but the look she gave me was still sharp. “She assured me you were both unharmed.”
I spread my arms out. “As you can see. A couple of bruises, but nothing more serious than that.”
“And thus, you’ve been wondering if the incident is related to Julien’s death. The thought occurred to me as well, and obviously it did to DS Capretti, but I fail to see how. If she came to any conclusions, she neglected to inform me.”
“I know the police have been interested in Alicia Boyle. Dr. Boyle.”
“Yes, yes. Total nonsense, as I told them. Alicia is a physician, sworn to do no harm. She has an excellent reputation as a doctor, as did her father and grandfather before her. She also has a reputation for being politically active regarding the things she believes in, and good for her. She’s fundamentally opposed to the aristocracy, and I will confess that if I were not the Dowager Countess of Frockmorton, I would likely be opposed also. Such a relic of less favorable times. My late husband took his responsibilities to the community, to the people who work and live here, seriously, regardless that those responsibilities were inherited. I considered the same to be my duty after his premature death, and in that, I believe I succeeded.”
“What about Robert, the current earl?”
“Robert has, I fear, little interest and even less enthusiasm about managing an historic house and a modern property company. He will do what he can. That pesky duty, Alicia and her friends are so dismissive of. Robert might not be wanting to do much of the hands-on—he has dreams of spending a good deal of his retirement years in Spain—but he’s fully capable of managing people from a distance. I see no harm in telling you this, Lily. I’ve left the estate in its entirety, except for some provisions for long-serving staff and my great-grandchildren’s education, to Robert. I see no value in breaking things up. Neither financially nor on a personal level. I’ve seen friends and neighbors do what they thought was best, and all it resulted in was arguments and animosity. In one case I know of, years of legal battles.”
“That includes the house? It will continue to be a hotel?”
“The crown jewel, so to speak, of the Crawford family. Tony is aware of my intentions, and he’s fully committed to continuing to manage the hotel under his uncle’s ownership.” She lifted her cup and took a sip. The china was plain white, one of the regular hotel dishes. “I’m planning on suggesting your grandmother and I go into Halifax for lunch today. She’s scarcely been off the grounds since she arrived, and I believe you’re going home tomorrow. Would you care to join us, dear?”
“Thank you, but my friends and I have plans.” I can tell when I’ve been dismissed, and I’d started to stand when there was a light tap on the door.
“Come in,” Elizabeth called.
Jacqueline did so. “Morning, Granny. Lily, good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Lily was leaving. A day of exploring with her friends.” Elizabeth let out a long sigh, the sound full of happy memories. “Ah to be young again, off exploring in the company of good friends. I believe, Lily, that’s why your grandmother and I reconnected so comfortably. Neither of us have many friends left.”
“I know she’s very happy it happened.”
“I want to take the girls to the doctor,” Jacqueline said. “Is there someone near here who can see them, or should we go home?”
A look of alarm wiped the fond memories off Elizabeth’s face. “Are they ill?”
“I don’t know, Granny. They don’t seem to be sick, but they’re acting strangely. Both of them. Lifeless, not interested in anything. Not eating well, which is so unlike them, it’s my biggest concern.” She let out a strangled laugh.
“I’ll call Dr. Boyle in Halifax, but I’m sure it’s nothing. Everyone’s here’s been on edge since Sunday, it’s bound to have a negative effect on children. They sense the tension, even if they don’t understand the cause. Talk of death and funerals, people eying each other suspiciously. Not to mention police popping in and out, and questioning everyone.”
“You’re likely right,” Jacqueline said, “but I’d like to be sure and have them checked out. They were so interested when a police officer came to the school for career day about a month ago, they talked about nothing else for days, and did nothing but attempt to arrest each other. This week, the sight of a uniform has them running to their rooms.”
“It’s unfortunate reality hit them at their age. I hope they didn’t overhear talk of poison killing Julien. That might put them off their food.”
“We’ve tried to keep the details from them,” Jacqueline said, “but it’s hard when everyone in the family is talking of nothing else.”
Elizabeth swung her chair around and reached for the phone. “I’ll call Dr. Boyle’s surgery now. They might not be in yet, but I’ll leave a message.”
“Thanks, Granny. Any word yet as to when we can make arrangements for Julien?”
I slipped away. It was still only eight thirty. An hour to go until I was expected to make friends with Carmela. I couldn’t go back to my room, under fear of interrogation by Simon, so I might as well have that walk before the rain hit.