Death at a Country Mansion Page 5

  Daisy was inclined to agree. “Have you located Collin yet?”

  “No, we’re still looking. His phone is off, so we can’t ping it, unfortunately, but as soon as he turns it back on, we’ll get a fix on him.”

  Daisy was impressed. “Well, I’m sorry we bothered you. It seems you’re following up on all the angles.”

  He allowed himself another small smile as he escorted her to the door. “Thanks for coming by. If I need you, I know where to find you.” In other words: don’t come around again.

  She smiled. “Okay, Detective Inspector. I get the message. But just so you know, I’m not going to stop asking questions. Floria is one of my best friends and anything I can do to help find out who did this, I will.”

  McGuinness’s eyes lost their crinkles. “Don’t get in the way, Miss Thorne. This isn’t my first murder case. I know what I’m doing. I understand you want to help, but snooping around isn’t going to do that. You could be putting yourself and your friend in danger. If you hear of anything important, by all means, let me know. Otherwise, please stay out of it.”

  Daisy left the Scout hall feeling suitably chastised. DI McGuinness had warned her off in no uncertain terms; however, she had no intention of listening to him, and if he was half as intelligent as he seemed to be, he’d know she wasn’t going to back off either.

  Chapter Five

  Daisy’s two o’clock was a young woman named Sophie who was getting married in a fortnight and wanted to try out wedding hairdos. Daisy loved experimenting with different styles, so she’d blocked out an hour to dedicate to the task. Krish was doing a complicated color job on a middle-aged woman who’d decided she’d had enough of being a bottle blonde and was going back to her natural dark roots and Penny was giving a regular customer a trim.

  “Asa, darling, won’t you bring us some prosecco?” Daisy smiled at her client. “Wedding preparations always call for bubbles.”

  Sophie giggled. “Jamie’s at a football match, so he won’t mind. At least we’ll be tidily together when he gets home.”

  Daisy got to work. She was a good listener and asked all about the wedding arrangements. Sophie was only too happy to talk.

  “We’re getting married at Polesden Lacey. Have you been there? It’s this lovely country house with magnificent gardens and a stunning view for the wedding photos. We’ve hired the ballroom for the reception, in case it rains. One can’t be too careful in this country.” Daisy let her ramble on, asking intermittent questions about her dress, the bridesmaids and, of course, the groom. They were finishing up, having settled on a pretty updo with tendrils dangling on either side of the face, when Sophie said, “I’m so glad we’re having the wedding in England. A friend of mine had hers in Italy and the groom got so drunk at the stag party that he missed the flight. It was dreadful. There we all were, waiting at the church, and he didn’t arrive. God, what a nightmare.”

  Daisy stared into space. Sophie’s words had sparked an idea.

  “Daisy? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m fine. You just reminded me of something, that’s all.”

  As soon as Sophie had gone, Daisy sat on the couch with her half-empty glass of prosecco and gazed into the effervescence, deep in thought.

  “What’s up?” Penny asked, having finished with her customer too. Her next appointment was running late.

  “What if Collin didn’t go to the Bahamas?” Daisy mused.

  “Are you talking about Dame Serena’s husband?” Penny sat down next to her.

  Daisy nodded. “It was something Sophie said. What if he missed his plane? Or didn’t go at all? It could have been a ruse to give himself an alibi.”

  Penny gasped. “You think he’s the murderer?”

  Daisy pulled herself out of her trance. She didn’t want to start spreading rumors. “No, I don’t. It was just a thought. I wish there was a way of checking whether he was on that plane or not.” She could ask DI McGuinness, but he’d think she was interfering again, and he may have already checked the flights. If he had, he certainly wouldn’t share the information with her.

  Asa stopped sweeping and said, “I have an auntie who works at Heathrow. I could ask her to check the passenger list.”

  Daisy jumped up. “Can she do that? I wouldn’t want her to get into any trouble.”

  Asa shrugged. “She works at the BA desk. I’m sure she could look it up on the system. Shall I ask her?”

  “Yes, please. Can you call her now?”

  “I could, but Mrs. Boxer is here for her perm.” She glanced at the door as a smartly dressed woman with a shock of frizzy hair walked in.

  “I’ll take over. You make the call. It’s important, Asa.”

  Asa came back a few minutes later. “I left a message on her phone. She’ll check it during her break and get back to me.”

  “Great.” Daisy finished washing Mrs. Boxer’s hair and handed her over to Asa for the massage.

  “Guess who I saw with Tatiana at the café this morning?” Krish fanned himself with his hand. “Her Polish boyfriend, Sergio, and oh my goodness, he’s hot.”

  “Really?” Asa was all ears. Even Mrs. Boxer had perked up.

  “Yeah, he looks like a gypsy, with long, wild hair and an earring. But that bone structure, phew!”

  Daisy couldn’t help smiling. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

  Krish grinned. “I bet you would, you naughty girl. Well, I happen to know where he works, and if you give me Friday afternoon off, I’ll tell you.”

  “That’s blackmail.” She turned to Penny, who was setting up the equipment for Mrs. Boxer’s perm. “My own staff are blackmailing me.”

  “It’s Dave’s birthday party on Saturday night and I want to go shopping in London.” Dave was Krish’s latest beau. “I’ve got to get him something decent.”

  “You can have Thursday afternoon off. Friday is Serena’s memorial service and you’re all invited to the reception afterward at Brompton Court.”

  After the whoops had died down she asked, “Now, where does Sergio work?”

  “The Buddha Bar in Surbiton.” Krish looked smug. “Do you need some company?”

  “I don’t think so, darling. This won’t require a wingman. I just want to ask him some questions about the night Serena was killed.”

  “Suit yourself. Be sure to tell him I say hi.” He winked at Daisy, who rolled her eyes.

  A pink-cheeked Floria rushed in, almost tripping over the doormat in her haste. “Oh, Daisy, you won’t believe it. All of my sisters are so musical, it’s crazy. Mimi’s a backup singer, Donna is a violinist and the Spanish one, Carmen, is an opera singer like Mother! I’ve seen photographs of them; they’re all stunning. I can’t believe they’re going to be here in a few days.”

  Daisy laughed. “Come and sit down. I’ll get you a glass. This is cause for celebration.”

  “Are you sure you should be celebrating when Dame Serena has just been bumped off?” Krish looked doubtful. “It seems wrong somehow.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. This is good news. Besides, we’ve already opened a bottle. It would be a shame to let it go flat. Come and grab a glass. You too, Asa. Pen, I’ll leave yours here. We could all do with a little pick-me-up.”

  Mrs. Boxer got a glass of prosecco too, much to her delight, then Penny got to work on her perm, while the others sat around discussing the new additions to the Levanté family.

  “Is it true the Spanish one has a voice like Serena?” asked Asa, who spent too many hours with her nose buried in the tabloids. The pages were awash with minor details of the girls’ lives and grainy photographs taken from the internet, but as yet no one had managed to secure an interview with any of them. Greg had advised the girls not to speak to any journalists until after the memorial service, and because they were all traveling to London from abroad, tracking them down would prove rather difficult.

  “I couldn’t find any clips of her on YouTube, so I don’t know.” Floria shrugged, then she sm
iled. “But there were some of Donna, the violinist. Gosh, she’s talented. Mesmerizing, actually. She tackled Bartok’s solo violin sonata like it was ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,’ and I’ve seen professionals struggle with that piece.” Thanks to her previous job as an assistant at one of London’s biggest classical music production companies, Floria recognized talent when she saw it. “And there’s a cringeworthy clip of Mimi’s band, Toxic Phonix, but . . . ” she paused for effect, “that doesn’t mean Mimi isn’t any good.” That was Floria, loyal to a fault, and she hadn’t even met her sisters yet. Daisy only hoped they’d be as welcoming to her.

  Asa’s phone rang and they all fell silent.

  Who’s that? mouthed Floria as Asa dashed outside to answer it.

  “Her auntie,” whispered Krish. “She’s checking to see whether Collin made his flight to the Bahamas.”

  After what seemed like an eternity, Asa came back into the salon, a triumphant look on her face. “You’re incredible, you know that, Daisy?”

  “He didn’t make the flight?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. He was never on the flight. Auntie looked up all the passengers flying to Nassau via British Airways on Sunday morning. No Collin Harrison.”

  “Could he have taken a later flight, or used another airline?”

  “He’s an Executive Club member,” said Floria. “He wouldn’t fly another airline.”

  “There’s only one BA flight to Nassau per day,” said Asa. “And he wasn’t on it.”

  They all stared at one another, then Daisy spoke. “If Collin didn’t go to the Bahamas, then where is he?”

  * * *

  The Buddha Bar in Surbiton was a modern cocktail bar with exposed stonework, a Buddha head at the entrance, lots of greenery and a covered outdoor terrace. A sign at the bar read “Mojito and Martini Mondays.” Daisy studied the two bartenders and headed for the best-looking one. Man bun. Earring. Great bone structure. It had to be Sergio.

  “Hi, I’m Daisy Thorne,” she said, giving him a disarming grin. “I’m a friend of Tatiana’s.” It was a bit of a stretch, but Sergio wouldn’t know.

  He smiled tentatively. “What can I get you?”

  Up close, she could see what Krish had meant. He was hot, as he’d put it, with those high cheekbones, slanting eyes and full lips, but there was something feral about him, an air of danger. Perhaps it was the suspicious gaze or the earring that gave him a gypsy-like appearance, or maybe it was just the dim light in the bar and her imagination playing tricks on her.

  She ordered a mojito and took a seat at the bar. While he prepared it, not without a certain flourish, she pretended to make small talk. “Awful business about Dame Serena, wasn’t it? I spoke to Tatiana this morning and she seemed very upset. Apparently, she’d been questioned by the cops.”

  His eyes narrowed. “They questioned me too.”

  “And me.” Daisy shrugged. “I guess they’re just doing their job.”

  He scoffed. “The police always get it wrong. We told them we were home together on Saturday night.”

  “Yes, Tatiana said. How was the steak?”

  “What?” He looked confused.

  “You know, the steak you made for supper?”

  “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He placed her drink in front of her.

  She shrugged. “Never mind. It was something Tatiana said, but I must have misunderstood.”

  He was frowning at her, his dark eyes glinting dangerously.

  She slid off the barstool and shot him a parting smile. “Thanks again for the drink.” She’d made him suspicious. If he mentioned this to Tatiana, they’d realize she’d set him up, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. If he had something to hide, he ought to be nervous. As her grandfather had often said, sometimes you’ve got to shake the tree to see what falls down.

  DI McGuinness’s warning echoed in her ears. You could be putting yourself and your friend in danger.

  Was Sergio dangerous? Hmm . . . she wasn’t sure, but better not stick around to find out. Trying to act normally, she strolled outside onto the small cobblestoned terrace. Tall potted plants flanked the perimeter, giving it a tropical feel ideally suited to the warm weather they’d been having. There weren’t many people about, just a couple at the far table enjoying their martinis and a burly security guard standing on the other side of the potted plants, near the exit. She sat down on one of the benches and took a sip of her drink. It wasn’t a bad mojito, actually. Glancing inside, she saw Sergio serving another customer. He seemed oblivious to the fact she was still there. Good. Relaxing a little, she pulled out her phone to text Floria.

  Sergio wasn’t at home on Saturday night. His alibi doesn’t check out.

  Chapter Six

  As she walked to work the next morning, Daisy paused to admire the myriad of daffodils that had sprung up seemingly overnight. They were everywhere, from the central reservation to cottage gardens and in the fields beyond. The stiff breeze made them dance back and forth like ballerinas in bright-yellow tutus.

  “Bless you,” she said as she passed Mrs. Firth, the librarian, who was rummaging up her sleeve for a tissue. The air fizzed with pollen from the birch and ash trees, made worse by the wind and unexpected high temperatures.

  Daisy unlocked the door to Ooh La La and allowed herself a moment of pride. The morning sun shone through the glass front onto the wooden floorboards, turning them a rich mahogany. Shards of light flickered off the vintage chandelier, causing tiny, multicolored flecks to bounce off the walls. To say she was proud of her hair salon was an understatement. When her parents had sent her off to beauty school, saying she’d never amount to much, she’d been determined to prove them wrong. And she had. She now ran a thriving local business and was an established member of the community. Not that her parents were aware. They lived the high life on a golf estate in the Costa del Sol, and Daisy doubted they gave her a second thought.

  She sighed.

  It was what it was, and it didn’t bother her too much. Like Floria, she’d never experienced any particular affection from her parents, and what you never had, you couldn’t miss.

  Ruth, her eight o’clock, arrived a short time later with wet hair hidden beneath a paisley scarf. The receptionist at the local doctor’s office, she popped in before work on Tuesday and Friday to have her hair styled and blow-dried, but she always washed it at home beforehand to save time.

  “I’ve just put the kettle on, Ruth.” Daisy motioned for her to take a seat at one of the workstations. “I’ll make us some coffee and be with you in a moment.”

  “Isn’t this pollen dreadful?” Ruth sniffed as Daisy handed her a mug. “I’ve taken two antihistamines and I still can’t stop sneezing. Any more and I’ll fall asleep at my desk.”

  Daisy murmured sympathetically. It didn’t affect her, but out here in the countryside, surrounded by meadows, it was a real problem for hay fever sufferers.

  “How are things at the doctor’s office?” Daisy asked. Ruth’s occupation, a bit like hers, meant she knew a lot about the private lives of the local community.

  “Doris finally retired. We had her farewell last Saturday. It was quite emotional, as she’d been at the office for over thirty years. But it was time; she’d been forgetting things, like passing on messages or getting back to patients.”

  “Isn’t she nearly seventy?”

  “Yes, way past retirement age. I think they kept her on out of sympathy, poor thing. So, we’re a bit short-staffed until we find a replacement. Luckily, the flu season is over, else we’d never cope.”

  Daisy applied a leave-in conditioner and combed out the tangles. Ruth had thick, frizzy hair and without her biweekly blow-dry was convinced she’d be walking around with an Afro.

  “I heard about Serena’s three illegitimate daughters,” she said conspiratorially. “She kept that very close to her chest, didn’t she?”

  News traveled fast in small villages.

  Daisy grinned.
“Floria is delighted.”

  “I’m sure she is. As remarkable as Dame Serena was, the woman wasn’t fit to be a mother. I don’t know why she had one child, let alone four.”

  “It does boggle the mind.” Daisy had wondered the same thing. For a woman so set on a singing career, she’d certainly wasted a lot of time being pregnant and having children.

  “She was very beautiful, though,” she said wistfully. “I suppose men threw themselves at her. She was probably spoiled for choice.”

  “Two are twins, I believe.” Daisy didn’t think Floria would mind her sharing the news. It wouldn’t be long before the whole village knew anyway, especially with the girls in question on their way.

  “Really?” Ruth was about to ask another question, but a sneeze prevented her from doing so. Daisy switched on the hair dryer. She was finishing up when Ruth said, “Dame Serena’s groundskeeper, Mr. Bonello, came to see the doctor yesterday. He’s got such bad rheumatism, poor man.”

  “I wasn’t aware.” Violeta hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Oh, yes. His hands are all crumpled up. He can hardly hold his tools anymore. He was concerned he might lose his job, especially now Serena’s gone.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the family won’t dismiss him. The Bonellos have worked there for decades. The place wouldn’t run without them.”

  Ruth shrugged. “Still, who knows who will inherit it now? If it’s darling Floria, they should be okay, but that Collin is a piece of work. I wouldn’t be surprised if he kicks them out before Serena’s cold in her grave.”

  That was a chilling thought. Would Collin really inherit Brompton Court? Floria would be devastated. Not for the first time, Daisy wished she knew what was in the existing will.

  Ruth continued. “The doc says Pepe needs an operation, but you know how appalling the waiting times are these days. It’s unlikely he’ll get something in the next few months. By then, I doubt he’ll have much movement left.”

  “That’s terrible. I’ll have a chat with Floria to see if she knows anything.”