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All things considered, I doubted that Kathy had entered the labyrinth to keep a tryst with the missing tutor, but a maze was a great place to hide something. Like a stolen miniature, for instance.
Ever since I’d spotted her sitting in the window seat, sketching something she didn’t want me to see, I’d suspected Kathy of the theft of the Tremayne Treasure. With Jerry convinced that none of his siblings had either need or desire for the jewel, and Tom equally adamant that his staff were not at fault—at least until Cavendish had gone absent without leave—the list of possible suspects had shrunk to a handful. Removing Tom and myself from that list left four people—Candice, Bill, Daniel, and Kathy.
The hedges towered over me as I stepped warily into the gap that marked the entrance. A little way ahead, only a matter of a few yards, my way was blocked and I had the choice of going left or right. I turned to my left and halted, my mind full of indecision and eerie foreboding. I knew nothing of mazes—it was not something that my crime writer boss had ever asked me to research and, right then, I considered that wilful negligence on her part. She might have known I’d need the information sooner or later.
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Tom had told us not to go in on our own, yet here I was doing exactly that. What if I got lost? Should I go back now and wait for Kathy to come out? Call for reinforcements?
I gave myself a mental shake. Faint heart never won fair lady, and all that. Onwards!
My footsteps deadened by the turf beneath my feet and the thick box hedging, I went into the Devil’s Maze without further hesitation, my fingers tightly crossed that the name was a clue to its navigation. My guess proved correct. Always turning left when faced with a choice—for the Devil takes the left-hand path—I met with no hindrance or dead end.
Every now and again I would stop and listen and look for signs of my quarry, but silence lay over the maze like a thick blanket. Even the birds had gone to the Boxing Day sales.
To stop myself from feeling spooked by the almost supernatural stillness, I concentrated on the girl’s motives. Was she a rabid kleptomaniac who regularly nicked valuables from boyfriend’s families? Or someone perhaps desperate for cash, who’d taken the opportunity that Tom had carelessly presented? Neither alternative seemed likely and her reasons remained a mystery. As did her purpose in coming into this labyrinth, yet purpose there must surely be.
“Ah! That’s perfect.”
The quiet cry came from close at hand. I glanced over my shoulder. The path behind me was empty. I inched forward and squinted into the opening that appeared on my left. As well as the sundial that Tom had said marked the centre of the maze, a wooden bench stood against the hedge. Kathy lay sprawled across it, face down, one arm reaching underneath.
“Don’t put it there!” I stepped into the open.
Kathy let out a gasp, her body convulsed. She scrambled to her feet.
“What do you mean? Oh, it’s you, again.”
“Yes, I do have the habit of turning up when you least want me, don’t I?”
She pouted her lips in a sulk. “I enjoy my own company, that’s all.”
Well, tough. I’d had enough of spending my Christmas being suspicious of my in-laws, loyal retainers, old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. I was tired of pussy-footing around getting nowhere so, if I was going to tread on anyone’s toes, they might as well be hers.
“How did you get here so quickly?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been in before. I got the secret out of Thornley by swapping it for a bar of chocolate.”
Dear me. Bribery as well as theft, and she’d seemed such a nice girl at first.
“Why did you steal the Tremayne Treasure?”
“Me? I don’t know what you mean!” She rammed her hands into her pockets, a blush creeping up her soft pale cheeks.
“Come on, Kathy. That won’t wash. You’ve got it and I want it back.”
“Oh? And what do you want it for?” She turned away and started back into the maze. I fell into step beside her.
“To return it to its rightful owner, of course.” When she made no reply, I went on, “You aren’t a thief, so why did you take it?”
She gave a long drawn out sigh. “After Tom had shown us the miniature, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I only meant to borrow it for an hour or so to make a rough sketch, but I couldn’t find Tom to ask for permission, and Martha was always busy with something or other.”
“It’s the price she pays for being the lady of the house. You could have waited till one or other were free.”
“Yes, well, anyway, I went and took it, but the theft was discovered too soon.”
“You were outside the office door when we were talking about it, weren’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, I heard you tell Tom it was missing. I suppose I should have told you then. I just didn’t have the nerve to walk into the office, bold as brass, and admit that I’d got it. I was going to put it back but ...”
Ah, yes. Sod’s Law had been having a whale of a time that Christmas. I might have felt sorry for her were it not for the arrogance that let her believe she could just ‘borrow’ the Tremayne Treasure without the owner’s say so.
“Tom had locked the door, and you couldn’t.”
“Exactly. You see, from the moment I first saw it, the more I thought that it would make the perfect backdrop for the production I’m working on.”
I cast my mind back to what she’d said about her job on Christmas Eve. “The Restoration comedy?”
“Yes.” She stopped and clutched my arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve not long had this job, and this could be my big chance. Do you see?”
Frankly, I didn’t, but I’d let her explain. “Go on.”
She let go of my arm and we carried on walking.
“I guess I feel I’ve still got something to prove. My idea was to enlarge the miniature, redraw it to life size, and have it projected onto the rear wall of the set, so I began to draw it in detail.”
“And saying that you weren’t feeling well made the perfect excuse for some time to yourself in which to do so.”
“Is that when you knew I’d taken it?”
“Pretty much, yes.” I stopped to let her go ahead of me around a corner. “Does Michael know you’ve got it?”
“Goodness no! Please don’t tell him.” Her eyes brimmed. “I thought I’d leave it in here.” She angled her head back the way we had come. “And leave an anonymous note letting Tom and Martha know where to find it.”
“You do realise that if you’d asked, Tom might willingly have let you draw it. He might even have felt flattered and offered to sponsor the play.”
She moaned and withdrew the miniature from her pocket. “Look, I know I’ve been a god-awful fool, but see how exquisite it is, and how elaborate and intricate the gold setting.”
“Hilliard was also a Master Goldsmith, you know.”
“He must have been to make something so beautiful.”
We had reached the exit and halted, still in the shadow of the thick green hedges. With a considerable amount of reluctance, she held the jewel out to me and dropped it in my palm. “Are you going to tell your husband?”
I considered this for a moment, but there isn’t much that I keep from Jerry. Besides, he has a habit of knowing when I’m keeping guilty secrets to myself. Even if they belong to other people.
“I have to, Kathy, and, although I’ll tell him as my husband and not as a policeman, I can’t take the job out of the man. However, I don’t see any reason for me to tell Tom, Michael, or anyone else for that matter.”
A whimper escaped her lips and she chewed her knuckles. “Thank you.”
Then, without another word, she strode off towards the front door of the house. I watched her go inside before staring down at the tiny painting in my hand. She was right, it was exquisite but that didn’t give anyone carte blanche to steal it. Once it was back in Sir Tom’s hands, perhaps we could relax and enjoy Christmas.
I set off to find Jerry.
***
I hurried into the house and hung up my coat, putting the jewel into my trouser pocket, then walked into the living room in search of my spouse.
“He’s with Tom in the office,” said Sonia, when I asked.
“Yes, Verity, any idea what’s going off?” Peter demanded. He sounded put out. “The pair have been whispering in corners all morning.”
“I have no idea, unless it’s to do with Mr Cavendish’s disappearance. I take it he still isn’t back, yet?”
There was a shaking of heads and a muttering in the negative from the four members of the Farish family and their partners. Martha was not among them, but then, she still had a home and her own family to see to.
“Go and drag him out of there,” said Liz. She sat curled up in one of the roomy armchairs. “Jerry deserves a holiday along with the rest of us.”
I turned away, intending to comply with her request, and find out what the two men were up to, but stopped as Martha came in. She appeared agitated and glanced rapidly around the room.
“Have any of you seen Thornley?”
A shiver ran down my back and my stomach tightened at her words. No one else seemed to share my presentiment of doom, there were shrugs and a chorus of ‘nos’, but Sonia frowned sharply at her older sister.
“Isn’t he upstairs with Cissy and Miss Tillett?”
“No, and I can’t find him. I thought he might be in here.”
“He won’t be far away,” Peter’s deep voice boomed. “Have you told him off for something, eh? He’s probably just in a sulk somewhere, you know what kids are like.”
“No, nothing like that and I’ve looked for him and called him for nearly ten minutes.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll turn up when he’s hungry.” Sonia’s attempt to console her sister fell short of the mark. Martha looked more worried than ever.
“Perhaps he’s with Tom in the office,” I said.
She didn’t wait for an answer but flew past me into the hall.
“This is a rum do.” Michael got to his feet. “First the tutor, and now the boy.”
He was right, there was more here than met the eye. Why had Martha looked so anxious? Thor could have gone outside to play and, although I hadn’t seen him when I was out there, he might be hiding somewhere. So, why had she assumed him missing?
I caught the rumble of voices from the office, and wished I knew what they were saying. My curiosity was soon satisfied when the door opened again and I heard Tom say, “He’s probably just playing hide and seek.”
“Nevertheless, we should search for him,” said Jerry.
He walked into the hall, saw me in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged and shook my head. I’d seen nothing of Thor since the previous evening.
The three of them came into the living room and Jerry stilled the hubbub that immediately sprang up. I marvelled at the way he took control without in any sense appearing to slip into his policeman persona. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised—this was his family, after all, and it was his nephew that had gone walkabout.
With a minimum of questioning, he’d soon established that, apart from the boy’s parents, no one had seen Thor that morning.
“How was he at breakfast?” he asked Martha.
“A little tired, with all the excitement of yesterday. Miss Tillett said he ate well, and spent some time playing with his new toys. She left him with Cecilia for about five minutes while she took the breakfast tray back to the kitchen. He was still there when she returned, but said he was going to look for something and ... and ... never came back. I thought he might be with Verity; he’s taken a shine to her.”
“And I to him, but I haven’t seen or spoken to him since yesterday.”
“I just wondered, because ... because—” She bit back a sob and sagged against Tom’s side. “Oh, this is a nightmare.”
“Don’t worry, Martha.” Jerry patted her shoulder. “Tom’s probably right and Thor’s playing a game. Either way we’ll find him.” He sounded very confident. “Where have you looked for him?”
“In his and Cecily’s rooms, the schoolroom and our bedroom. I’ve also had a word with cook, but he’s not been in the kitchens this morning either.”
“All right, thanks. I think we ought to search the house and grounds for him first. If we still can’t find him, then the police should be called in.”
I butted in at this point, choosing my words with care. “I’ve been pottering about outside this morning,” I said. “I saw Mr Morgan, the gardener, and had a look inside both the sheds. Thor was not in there.”
Jerry nodded and proceeded to pair everyone off and give out instructions for a systematic search.
“What about that maze?” Bill asked. “Could Thornley have got lost in there?”
“No,” I said. “Kathy and I have just been in there. We walked all the way through and didn’t see him.”
I said nothing about what had passed between us while we were in the labyrinth, nor that I had the Tremayne Treasure safely wedged in my pocket. That could wait. Finding the boy was the priority, now.
“All right,” said Jerry. “Just remember to stick together in your pairs, we don’t need anyone else disappearing.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll meet back here at twelve o’clock to share progress.”
Everyone trooped off to do his bidding and his shoulders sagged as he turned to me. So far, he had covered it well, but this had hit him far harder than the news of the missing tutor, or even the loss of the Tremayne Treasure.
I put my arms around his waist and hugged him to me.
“Well, beloved?” he said. “Any ideas?”
I shook my head and reported my mornings findings and my surmise about Cavendish.
“Hmm. That still doesn’t explain his absence, though.” He rubbed a hand around his chin. “I don’t like this, you know.”
Neither did I. “There are a couple of places I could check. I walked past the tree house, but didn’t go up there. I might have missed him, and there’s also our own room.”
How I hoped the boy was sitting on our bed, waiting to speak to me, to continue the now unnecessary hunt for the jewel and carry on playing detective.
“Yes, all right. I’ll leave those with you.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going into the cellar. Tom doesn’t keep the door locked.” He shook his head at this negligence on his brother-in-law’s part. “Thornley might have gone down there.”
He might—especially if he were still looking for the treasure—but how to get into the mind of an eight-year-old boy? I could barely remember being that age and, contrary to my mother’s hopes and wishes, I’ve never been a boy.
I gave Jerry another quick, comforting hug. “Be careful down there, and don’t drink the Petrus.”
He gave me a pale grin and we parted, but when we all reconvened at midday, Thor had not been found. Jerry went with Tom to the office to call in the police and a white lipped Martha sat on the sofa and accepted a hug from Sonia and a brandy from Peter.
“Where could he be?” she asked of no one in particular. “I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him—oh!”
A great cry escaped from her lips and my heart went out to her. I was doing no good standing around like a wet lettuce, so I left her with the family and went to join my husband.
Even though I had told Jerry about searching the sheds and the gardener’s cryptic comment, the shock of Thor’s disappearance had wiped all thoughts of the Tremayne Treasure from my mind. I approached the office fully intending to say that I’d found the jewel and hand it over, only to be thwarted by the heated conversation between the two men.
“Why didn’t you tell them about Cavendish, or about the theft, while you had the chance?”
“If they’re connected.” Thornley Park’s owner sat back and scowled. “We don’t know that they are.”
“Even if they’re not, the police should still have been informed.”
With everyone on edge it was hardly surprising that tempers were beginning to fray. I had to speak up.
“If the police are on their way, then you can tell them when they get here.” I brought out the Treasure and laid it in front of them. “But there’s the least of your worries solved.”
Tom’s eyes gleamed as he scooped it off the desk. “That’s wonderful. Wherever did you find it?”
“Kathy and I came across it by the entrance to the maze.”
Jerry lifted an eyebrow, I knew he would read between the lines and see through that ruse, but Tom was still chasing his own dog.
“Ha! Cavendish must have dropped it as he made his escape. Well done, Verity, I—” He broke off distracted by a flash of movement outside the window and let out an oath. “Bloody hell! They’ve been quick. It’s barely ten minutes since I phoned.”
Jerry frowned and it wasn’t hard to work out why. The police car’s arrival had nothing to do with the local force’s response to Sir Tom’s call.
I hurried across the hall barely a step ahead of the men and opened the door.
Out of the car stepped a young constable and Mr Cavendish, a very grimy and bedraggled Mr Cavendish, in a long black robe, the sort worn by church ministers. He clutched a white silk scarf in his right hand and I knew it was missing two threads. Unless the man had been attending a disreputable fancy-dress party, my suspicion that the tutor was a Catholic priest appeared to have been correct.
“Cavendish!” Sir Tom shot through the front door like a cannonball. “Where the hell have you been? Why did you steal the Tremayne Treasure? You blackguard! What have you done with my son?”
“Your son?”
Almost in slow-motion Cavendish’s thin body folded like a concertina and fell to the floor in a dead faint.
***
“Begging your pardon, sir, but do you know this man?” The constable pointed to the prone figure at his feet.
“Yes, yes,” said Tom, “He’s my children’s tutor. Look, bring him into the library, will you. Verity, go and fetch a glass of brandy, please.”
I did his bidding, though to my eyes Cavendish stood more in need of a warm bath, a shave, and a hot meal. Behind my departing back, Jerry and the constable carried the inert figure into the house. I sloshed a generous amount of good Napoleon into a glass and returned in time to hear Jerry introduce himself to the local man.
“Where did you find him?”
“In the church, sir, Saint Thomas More’s in Lower Mayfield. He’d been locked in, apparently. Someone heard his cries this morning and called us. Poor blighter, he’d been in there all over Christmas Day, unable to get out or attract attention.”
Cavendish, who’d been placed on a chaise began to come round. I offered him the brandy and he took a tentative sip, then coughed as the spirit hit his throat.
“Thank you, Mrs Farish.”
“What’s this about your son and a treasure, sir?” asked the constable.
Before Tom could answer, Martha flew into the room.
“Have they found him? I heard the commotion at the front door—oh!” She caught sight of the tutor, noted the state he was in, and knelt beside him. “Mr Cavendish, are you all right? What happened?”
The policeman took up his tale again, before the tutor could answer.
“As I was just explaining to your husband, ma’am, the gentleman got locked in his church on —”
“His church?” Her eye’s widened as she realised how Cavendish was dressed. “I don’t understand? Tom?”
She looked at her husband who scowled at the cringing tutor.
“Yes, what’s the meaning of this? I employ you to teach my children, not go celebrating your religion in the dead of night.”
“Whoa!” Jerry held up a hand. “Hang on there, Tom, those questions can wait. Mr Cavendish, as you’ve probably gathered, while you were absent the Tremayne Treasure was stolen and Thornley has gone missing. Do you know anything about either of those things?”
Cavendish drank more brandy. It appeared to give him courage. “I don’t see how I could as they happened when I wasn’t here.”
“When did you leave Thornley Park?”
“Around ten-thirty on Christmas Eve. I walked through the park to the church, celebrated Mass, and spent some time clearing up and ... ahem ... in the vestry. Unfortunately, my deacon must have thought I’d already left as he locked up and went home leaving me trapped inside.”
“You don’t have a key?”
“No. The previous incumbent mistakenly took it with him and we have to have another one cut. Nor do I possess ... ahem ... a mobile phone. Really, I am terribly sorry to have been the cause of so much trouble and anxiety.” He put his head in his hands, a picture of abject misery.
“Did you call for help?”
“Yes, of course I did,” he said in a voice that still sounded hoarse, “but the church is some way out of the village, there isn’t another building within fifty yards or more, and everyone was long gone by the time I realised my predicament.”
“He’d be there still if it weren’t for a lady walking her dog this morning,” added the constable. “We had to get a locksmith out because Mr ... er ... the man with the key ...”
“Henderson, the deacon,” muttered Cavendish.
“Yes, that’s him. Anyway, he’s gone to spend Boxing Day at his daughter’s home somewhere over in Nottingham.”
The arrival of another police car put an end to any further exploration of the tutor’s ordeal and to the questioning. Sir Tom, followed by Jerry and the constable, hurried from the room and went to meet them. Cavendish got groggily to his feet.
“Excuse me, I must go and join the search for Thornley.”
“No, go to bed man and get some rest.” I said,
“Yes, do, Mr Cavendish,” agreed Martha. “If you are hungry, I’ll ask cook to bring you some soup and a roll.”
“Your Ladyship is most kind,” mumbled Cavendish. He gave a wintry smile. “I do seem to have missed my Christmas lunch.”
Martha packed him off to bed via the kitchens and the two of us waited in the hall for the men. They seemed to take an age, just standing around and talking when I wanted to tear the place apart this minute. Patience has never been one of my virtues.
“Ah, there you are.” Sonia put her head around the living room door. “What’s happening?”
It was Jerry who answered, stepping inside at that moment.
“We’re organising search parties. Sonia, will you go back and ask anyone who’s prepared to help to come out the front. We’ve got five policemen out there and a tracker dog, but the more the merrier. Tell everyone to wrap up well,” he called to her retreating back as she hurried to comply. “It’s none too warm out there.”
I moved to get my coat but he stopped me.
“What?” I asked as he put a hand on my arm.
“I’d like you and Martha to stay here. If Thornley returns on his own, he’ll want his mum, and you would serve best by using that beautiful head of yours. Work out where he might have gone, beloved.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and shot out of the door.
“It’s hard to think of anything else at this awful time,” said Martha, coming to stand at my side, “but Jerry’s always been the favourite of my brothers—less pompous than Peter, more dedicated than Michael. He obviously adores you. Thank you for making him so happy.” She gave me a pale smile, anxiety for her son deep in her eyes. “Now I must go and see Cook. We can provide soup and sandwiches to the searchers when they’ve finished. When they’ve found him.”
On this optimistic note, she left and I had no chance to say that her brother’s feelings for me were reciprocated, so I went upstairs for pad and pen. Hearing a bark, I walked to the window and gazed down on the activity below. The gardener had reopened the shed and now passed rakes and hoes to two policemen, one of whom held a German shepherd dog on a stout lead. Liz and Daniel and another policeman paced towards the distant trees and no doubt the other family members did the same on all sides of the house. Everyone it seemed was out searching for a lost young boy.
I sat on the bed and to the accompaniment of the calls from those scouring the grounds, stared at the page. As usual, I made a list, a list of questions. Questions like, why had the Tremaynes not known that Cavendish was ordained—I would bet good money that the Dowager had. Who were the two people Thor had overheard on the landing and what had they actually said? I thought about this for a moment, tapping my pen against my lips, and then added ‘where is Thor?’ to the list.
It was all well and good for Jerry to tell me to work out where his nephew might have got to, but that brought me back to the question of what I knew about eight-year-old boys? And that, quite frankly, was nothing at all. How could I put myself into Thor’s mind? Had he been playing a game, or was he still acting the detective and looking for that wretched miniature? I pictured him standing before me, the shining face and bright intelligent eyes as he’d offered to help. Yes, I thought, somewhere or other Thor is still on the case.
A hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach reminded me that it was past lunch time. I yearned for the game pies that Mrs Oadby had been intending to serve, and I was probably not the only one with food on my mind now. I needed something to keep me going so, taking pad and pen, I went back downstairs and into the kitchens. Martha and her cook stood by the range, deep in earnest conversation, and looked up as I entered.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I have a biscuit or a small piece of cake?”
“Yes, of course. There’s a plate of ham sandwiches over there.” She pointed to a plate on the worktop next to the fridge. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you, and then I’d very much like to speak to your governess.”
“Miss Tillett? What on earth—oh, never mind. I’m sure you know your business.”
I did, and if I was right, then Miss Tillett knew a lot more about that business than even she realised.