Death at a Country Mansion Page 16

  Daisy chuckled at the thought of Serena playing housekeeper. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard Brompton Court is yours. Will you move back now?”

  The old man nodded. “I didn’t expect Serena to be so generous. I felt sure Collin was going to get the house, which would have been a tragedy.”

  “Perhaps she knew how much you loved it,” said Daisy with a smile.

  Sir Ranulph pursed his lips. “I didn’t think she had it in her. Also, what she did for her daughters and the housekeeper. What a surprise.”

  “Human nature can surprise one.” Daisy reached for a mini sausage roll from the tray of a passing waiter. Perhaps Serena had gone soft in her old age. Still, it didn’t clarify who she was going to cut out of the will. Could it have been Ranulph? Perhaps she’d felt he didn’t deserve Brompton Court after all. Was that the favor she’d been talking about? She studied the frail old man. He was rich in his own right. He’d made a mint managing Serena in the years they’d been together, and after that he’d gone on to manage several other classical music starlets. He didn’t need Brompton Court. He had a lovely villa in the south of France. She’d been there with Floria on several occasions. It wasn’t as large or majestic as Brompton Court, but it had a faded grandeur that was charming and, of course, it was also worth a fortune. No, Sir Ranulph didn’t have a motive, not to mention the fact that he hadn’t been in the country at the time of the murder.

  “It’s rather hot in here.” Sir Ranulph attempted to get to his feet. Daisy helped him up. “I think I’ll go for a little stroll out in the garden.”

  Floria was on her way over to talk to Daisy when she got waylaid by Collin, buoyed up with scotch. “Floria, darling, you’ll never guess who I saw at Marseilles airport,” he said in a booming voice.

  Sir Ranulph stumbled, and Floria, ignoring Collin, rushed to help him. “Dad, are you okay? Perhaps we’d better get you lying down.”

  “Yes,” he nodded, clutching his cane. “That might be a good idea. It’s been a very stressful day.”

  “Who did you see, Collin?” asked Daisy, but he was staring at Penny, who was laughing at something Niall had said.

  “Oh, nothing. Never mind. I need a refill.” He turned and left the room, no doubt headed back to the library and his private stash of Johnnie Walker Black Label.

  Paul brought Daisy a much-needed drink. “I can’t get my head around this case,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. She was reminded of how little sleep he’d had since it began. “There were no fingerprints other than Collin’s found on the painting, so whoever stole it—or pretended to steal it—wore gloves. Then there’s what Hubert said about it being a fake. Now that’s interesting, and I can’t help thinking there might be something in it. I think I’ll go have a word with him. Have you seen him anywhere?”

  Daisy shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since the argument with Collin. Have you tried outside, in the garden? He did say he was going to get some air.”

  Floria, who’d seen to her father, returned with the bespectacled Kurt Bachmann in tow. He’d already spoken to Mimi and Donna, and had given them as much information as he could about their birth. The doctor was saying, “I remember seeing your mother perform in Milan; it must have been in the summer of ’92. My word, she was amazing.”

  “The summer of 1992.” Floria frowned. “Are you sure? I was born in August of 1992, so she would have been heavily pregnant with me at that point.”

  “Well, if she was, she carried it very well. I don’t remember her being pregnant, but I could have been mistaken.” He smiled at her. “Maybe it was a different year. My memory isn’t what it used to be. You must be very proud of your mother, dear. What a shame she stopped performing, and now, with her passing, the world has lost an incredible talent.” He shook his head at the travesty of it all.

  Floria grimaced. “Well, thank you for coming to the reception, Dr. Bachmann. I’m sure Mimi and Donna are very grateful.”

  He smiled benevolently. “I hope I have managed to fill in some of the gaps in their past. It’s so important to know one’s roots, don’t you think?”

  Floria was about to walk him outside to the waiting taxi when an extremely flushed Penny rushed in, looking wildly around her. She grabbed Floria’s arm. “Oh my God! You must call an ambulance. Something terrible has happened.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Mr. Harrison. We’ve just found his body in the rose garden.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Everybody rushed to the door, but DI McGuinness stood there with his hands up. “Hold it,” he bellowed.

  Everybody stopped.

  “Nobody is going outside until I say so. I’m afraid until I’ve investigated what’s happened, no one is to leave. You will all remain indoors, preferably in the parlor, until I get back. Is that understood?”

  “But I was about to leave,” spluttered Carmen, who’d been tied up with Greg and the legalities of inheriting millions of pounds. The solicitor wanted to get her to sign the documents before she flew back to Barcelona.

  “I said nobody.” His tone didn’t leave much room for disagreement. “Greg, see to it that no one leaves.”

  Greg nodded and, giving Carmen a sympathetic smile, set about shepherding everyone back into the parlor.

  Paul turned to Dr. Bachmann. “Doctor, if you wouldn’t mind coming with us?”

  Then, with Daisy and Floria on his heels and the elderly gynecologist bringing up the rear, Paul marched outside and around the house to the rose garden. Niall stood beside the prostrate figure of Collin, guarding the body. “I think he’s been stabbed,” he said, as somber as Daisy had ever seen him.

  Paul bent down to take a closer look, but was careful not to touch the body. “Doctor, could you confirm?”

  Dr. Bachmann knelt down beside him and very gently reached over the body to feel for a pulse. After a long moment he looked up and shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  Paul sighed and turned to Niall. “How did you come to discover him?”

  “Penny and I were taking a stroll. We decided to take a look at the rose garden, and that’s when we found him. He was just lying here, dead, behind the Lady of Shallots.”

  “You know your roses.” Paul stood up, his eyes still on the body. “Judging from the blood underneath his stomach, I’d agree with your assumption, but I can’t turn him over until the medical examiner gets here. Doctor, what is your opinion?”

  Dr. Bachman got to his feet by way of his knees and inspected the body from the other side. “I agree. Abdominal wound. He probably bled out in a few minutes.”

  Daisy cringed. How awful. To think they’d been speaking to him in the library only a short time ago. How could this have happened so quickly?

  “Did you see anyone lurking around when you were taking your walk?” Daisy asked Niall.

  He shook his head. “No, we didn’t see a soul once we’d rounded the corner of the house. There were a few people smoking outside the front entrance, but that’s about it.”

  Paul nodded. “Thank you, Doctor; you can return to the house. Mr. Barclay, if you don’t mind making sure everyone stays out of the rose garden while I make a few phone calls? This area must be kept clear.” Niall nodded, and Paul strode off to call it in.

  “How could this happen?” Floria asked as they moved away from Collin’s body. She’d turned as pale as the cream Desdemona behind her and was trembling uncontrollably. Daisy wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Let’s go inside. I think we all need a stiff drink. Doctor, will you accompany us?”

  “Of course.” The old man looked quite shaken. Daisy felt sorry for him. He’d been so excited to meet Serena’s offspring, the children he’d delivered almost three decades ago, and now this . . .

  Her own nerves were frayed. Was this the same person who’d murdered Serena? Was he or she lurking in their midst? Had the killer been at the reception this whole time? She shivered, despite the warm afternoon.

  A short tim
e later, sirens could be heard coming up the drive.

  “I feel like a prisoner,” huffed Hubert while the guests waited for DI McGuinness to get back and tell them when they could go home. The detective inspector was still at the crime scene with the medical examiner and forensic team.

  “You were the one fighting with him earlier,” said a short man with thinning hair. Daisy thought he might be a music producer.

  “What are you implying? That I killed him?” Hubert stood up and glared at the man, who just shrugged. Nobody said anything. Hubert glanced around the room, then sank into a chair. “I suppose that’s what you all think?”

  The silence was damning.

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” said Greg, still in charge. The last thing they needed was everyone turning on poor Hubert. But tensions were high. There was a killer in their midst and everyone was on edge.

  Mimi and Donna sat huddled together, while Carmen tapped away furiously on her phone. Daisy tried to think, which wasn’t easy when her head was spinning. Where had everyone been when Collin had been killed? It must have happened in the last hour—no, it hadn’t even been that long—the last twenty minutes, which meant Sir Ranulph had been upstairs resting, Niall had been strolling in the garden with Penny, and Hubert had presumably been here.

  “Did you see Hubert come in?” Daisy whispered to Greg, who shook his head.

  “No, sorry. I can’t say I noticed.”

  She asked Floria, Mimi and Donna the same thing. They all remembered seeing him storm out after the argument, but none of them could recall seeing him come back in. She sidled over to Hubert, who was sitting with his head in his hands, a stiff drink on the windowsill behind him. “I’m sorry, Hubert, but I have to ask. How long were you outside after the fight?”

  He stared at her and said miserably, “‘Et tu, Brute?’”

  Daisy whispered urgently, “Listen to me. If you can prove you were inside the house, you’d have an alibi; then you’d be in the clear.”

  His face lit up. “Yes, I was here. I was only out there for a few minutes, but it was too warm, so I came back inside. I went to the loo and then to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of Serena’s vintage red that she keeps in the pantry. I was on my way back when that girl ran in saying Collin was dead.”

  Daisy’s heart sank. “Did anyone see you? Not in the loo, I mean, but on the way there or back, or in the kitchen? Was Violeta there?”

  His face fell. “No, there was nobody in the kitchen, and I went to the upstairs loo; it’s much more private than the downstairs one.”

  Daisy sighed. She feared Hubert was going to have a hard time proving his innocence. Everyone saw him go outside, where he could have lingered until Collin came out, murdered him, then snuck back into the house and carried on as normal. No one would have been the wiser. Which begged the question, did he kill Serena too?

  Greg beckoned from across the room.

  “I need to tell you something in private,” he whispered. They went into the hallway and stood to the side of the grand staircase, where it was darker and more secluded. “It’s about Hubert. He’s declared bankruptcy.”

  “What?” Daisy stared at him. “You mean he’s broke?”

  “Absolutely,” Greg confirmed. “He filed with my firm last week. Hasn’t got two pennies to rub together.”

  “But what about the antique store?”

  “They can’t cover their overheads. We’re going to sell off the stock and shut down the business.”

  Daisy grimaced. “This is not looking good for Hubert.”

  Sir Ranulph appeared on the landing. “What’s all the furor? Daisy, where is Floria?”

  “I’ll just get her for you, Sir Ranulph.”

  Floria went upstairs to tend to her father, leaving Mimi and Donna looking stunned in the lounge. They’d decided not to wait with the rest of the guests in the parlor, preferring a little privacy.

  DI McGuinness popped his head around the door. “Daisy, have you got a moment?”

  Daisy went to join him. “What have you discovered?”

  “Stab wound to the abdomen. The doctor says he would have died within minutes, so that puts time of death at about quarter past five.”

  “How awful. Poor Collin.”

  “There’s no sign of the murder weapon.”

  “So, we’re looking for a knife?”

  “Yes. The search team has just arrived with a warrant. I’m going to need all of you to move into the parlor as well, while they search the premises. I’m afraid it could take a while.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  He shook his head. “No, we have it under control. Perhaps you can do what you do best and question the guests. Maybe someone saw something.”

  “I’ll try, but so far it looks like everyone thinks Hubert did it.”

  “That’s certainly a consideration. Make sure he’s in the parlor at all times. I don’t want him making a run for it.”

  “Okay, sure.” Somehow she couldn’t picture Hubert as a knife-wielding murderer. It was totally incongruous to everything she knew about him, and the evidence at this stage was purely circumstantial. Yes, he’d had a fight with Collin before the murder, but perhaps the killer had used that to his advantage. It was a devious trick, especially because Hubert had gone outside to get some air twenty minutes before Collin’s body had been discovered. A little too contrived for her liking.

  Daisy ushered Mimi and Donna into the parlor, which was uncomfortably hot with so many bodies in it. Floria was still upstairs with her father. The windows were open fully, but it didn’t help much. Carmen stood by herself with her earphones in and ignored everyone, while Daisy apologized and reassured the guests that they’d be allowed to go home soon. Mimi and Donna appeared a little shell-shocked but stood quietly together and didn’t make a fuss. Greg took his job as doorman very seriously and wouldn’t let anyone out, not even for a toilet break. He also kept a sharp eye on Hubert, who sat in the corner sipping his whiskey, a thoroughly defeated expression on his face.

  It was only when Daisy, who went to stand by the window, saw Paul usher in the forensic search team, that she remembered she’d forgotten to tell him about the bankruptcy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Father’s not doing too well,” Floria told Daisy when she’d returned to the parlor. “His pulse is all over the place and he’s sweating up a storm. It must be the shock.”

  “I’ll go to see him,” said Daisy. “Perhaps you can make him a cold beverage?”

  Greg let them out, much to the annoyance of the other guests. Daisy went upstairs to the guest bedroom where Sir Ranulph was resting. He really didn’t look well. His skin was tinged with gray and his shirt was damp with perspiration.

  “I’ll get you a cool cloth.”

  She went to get a flannel from the en suite bathroom. Returning, she placed it on his forehead. “There you go, that should help a bit.”

  “Is Collin really dead?” His voice was raspy.

  “I’m afraid so, but you mustn’t concern yourself. The police are here and they’ve got everything under control.”

  He nodded and lay his head back on the pillows. Floria came in with a jug of iced water. “Here, Dad, have some of this.”

  She poured him a glass and held it to his mouth as he drank, after which he lay his head back down and closed his eyes. “Thank you, my darling Floria. What would I do without you?”

  Floria sat down on the bed beside him, knocking over his cane. Daisy picked it up and leaned it against the bedside table.

  “Sorry, damn thing’s always getting in the way,” murmured Sir Ranulph.

  “I’ll stay with him a bit,” said Floria. “Let me know if anything else happens downstairs.”

  Daisy nodded at her friend and left the room. Something was bothering her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps it was a number of things, like little pieces of a puzzle all floating around in front of her eyes, waiting to be slotted into pla
ce. She frowned and sat down at the top of the stairs under the portrait of Serena. There was a lot of activity in the house. The forensic search team, dressed head-to-toe in white overalls, methodically searched every room. Soon they’d go upstairs. Would they find the murder weapon? It had to be here somewhere. Whoever had killed Collin had a very short space of time in which to do it, so they’d either still have the knife on them or they’d hidden it somewhere between the rose garden and the house.

  Two police officers, one male and one female, were now in the parlor. Greg beckoned for her to join them. The guests were being searched. The men had to form one line and the women another.

  “This is an outrage,” huffed a ravishing Indian lady in a sari who Daisy knew to be a friend of Serena’s. She was patted down by the female officer, then asked to empty out her handbag.

  Hubert was searched along with everyone else, but the knife didn’t turn up. Daisy studied the faces of the guests to see if anyone appeared nervous, but nobody stood out. She too was searched, as was Greg and Violeta and Pepe, who had been called in from the cottage. The search turned up two spliffs and a gram of cocaine, which were immediately confiscated, but no murder weapon.

  They shunted everybody into the living room in order to search the parlor, after which they moved upstairs. They’d only been up there for ten minutes when a cry rang out. “Got something!”

  Daisy poked her head out of the living room. “What have they found?”

  “I think it’s the knife,” whispered Greg who, as guardsman, was standing just outside the door.

  “Where?” hissed back Daisy.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Somewhere in the west wing.”

  DI McGuinness, his sergeant, Buckley, and a handful of uniformed coppers met in the parlor. They shut the door so no one else could overhear them. Then the door opened and two police officers emerged, serious expressions on their faces. They nodded to Greg to stand back, and then entered the living room, where all the guests were gathered.