A Forgotten Shadow, page 19
*
For what Shadow hoped was the last time, Jimmy drove him through the countryside towards Kirkdale Castle. He briefly explained his plan to his sergeant on the way.
“Wow, Chief, if it works it really will be like one of those country house murder mysteries with the big reveal at the end.”
“The key word there is if,” grumbled Shadow, who was feeling unusually nervous. He only hoped Siobhan’s arrest may have led to the killer dropping their guard. If not, he may as well retire now.
“Speaking of country houses,” continued Jimmy cheerfully, “next weekend Sophie has booked a break at this huge stately home in the dales. It’s been turned into a hotel and looks really nice: big open fires, four-poster beds and afternoon tea on the terrace. They even said we could take Fawkes, but Sophie said cats don’t like to travel. Maggie said she’ll call in and feed him for us. Isn’t that kind of her?” Shadow merely grunted in response as Jimmy chattered on. “We’re really supposed to be saving up for the wedding, but Sophie said we should use her winnings to treat ourselves. I’m really looking forward to it.”
The two detectives drove on in silence for a few moments before Shadow finally spoke.
“I thought I should send Maggie some flowers. You know to apologise for leaving her so abruptly at the races.”
Jimmy nodded but for once didn’t say anything.
“Not enough?” queried Shadow. Jimmy shrugged awkwardly.
“I don’t know, Chief. Sophie said she was pretty miffed that we disappeared like that with no explanation. She was helping us out after all.”
Shadow thought for a moment before rummaging through his pockets for his phone, then he dialled three numbers. The first was the one was from the leaflet Sophie had given him for tickets to the Van Gogh exhibition, the second was for Catania where he ordered one of Gino’s new picnic hampers and finally, he called La Scuola and asked Francesco if he and a guest could use his garden overlooking the Minster for a private lunch.
“Now I’ll just have to hope she’ll say yes,” he sighed to himself, then glanced across at Jimmy, who was now grinning broadly.
“Too much?”
“No, Chief, that’s perfect. She’ll be blown away.”
“Hmm, perhaps.” Shadow sighed. “I’ll settle for appeased.”
*
They passed two uniformed officers on the gate and found the chief constable was already there waiting when they arrived at the castle. They pulled up alongside her car and she led the way up to the front door. Jarvis answered the door and informed them politely but firmly that the family and their guests were due to have lunch in an hour. He then led them all towards the library and opened the double doors. Everyone was gathered there: Annabel, Sybil, Plum, Bertie, Seb and Sir Charles as well as Lord and Lady Eastwold. They all fell silent when they saw the three police officers. Shadow was relieved to see there was no sign of Jolyon, the London lawyer. The French doors were open as they had been the first time Shadow had visited the castle.
“Thank you all for gathering here together,” the chief constable began, taking a seat next to Sir Charles.
“I didn’t know we had a choice,” grumbled Lord Eastwold, half a tumbler of whisky already in his hand.
“I thought you would like to be updated on the investigation into the death of Flynn FitzAllan,” said Shadow.
“You’ve arrested and charged his wife, haven’t you?” asked Lavinia.
“In connection to the Aidan O’Doyle case and also various charges of fraud and corruption,” replied Shadow glancing at Lord Eastwold, who had suddenly turned rather pale. “However, she wasn’t responsible for her husband’s death.”
“So, who was?” asked Sir Charles.
“Somebody who was concerned about the future of the estate.”
Shadow had been pacing up and down, and now stopped in front of Seb. The young man looked up at him in surprise.
“You don’t mean me?”
“You are the heir to the dukedom, aren’t you?”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the chief constable open her mouth, but Sir Charles placed a hand on her arm and whispered something.
“Yes, you know I am,” stammered the young man.
“And you know how to use the Lumley gun. You showed me a picture of you holding it yourself.”
“But why would I kill Flynn? I hardly knew him?”
“Chief Inspector, this is madness. Seb had nothing to do with Flynn’s death,” said Plum putting her hand on her son’s shoulder. Shadow ignored her and continued addressing Seb.
“Are you seriously telling me that in such a close-knit village, you hadn’t heard the rumours that Flynn was having an affair with your aunt?”
“I say, Shadow!” exclaimed the duke, but Shadow’s eyes remained fixed on Seb. The young man flushed bright red as he turned to look at Annabel, but she remained impassive.
“What’s that go to do with me?”
“If Annabel left with Flynn, she’d be entitled to a hefty divorce settlement. She didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement. Paying that so soon after paying the death duties for your grandfather and those due on your uncle’s death, there wouldn’t be much left for all your grand plans by the time the estate came to you. Much better to get rid of Flynn and try and frame Annabel. Kill two birds with one stone as it were. You told me you don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder.”
The chief constable looked as though she was about to speak again, but before she could, Sybil stood up.
“That’s enough, Chief Inspector. I’ll confess. Leave my grandson alone.”
“Mummy! What are you saying?” exclaimed the duke. His mother ignored him and continued to address Shadow.
“I never thought you’d be so underhand, Chief Inspector. Not enough evidence against me?”
“Not enough to reach the charging threshold unfortunately,” replied Shadow easily.
“But you knew I wouldn’t let Seb suffer. How did you know it was me?”
“The gun.”
“A mistake on my part. It never occurred to me that the man sent to investigate Flynn’s death would be the son of poor PC Shadow. Please believe me when I tell you what happened that night was just a horrible accident.”
“It’s true, Shadow. It was an accident. A truly terrible accident.”
Everyone turned to see who had spoken. Bill Greenwood stood on the terrace by the open French doors, his flat cap in his hands. He and Sybil exchanged a small smile.
“I know what you are probably thinking,” continued the old gamekeeper, “that we shot him to shut him up, but we—”
“Not we, me,” interrupted Sybil. “I panicked and fired without thinking. I’d only taken the damn gun with me as an excuse. Told the servants I was going out shooting rooks. After Bill had left me, I heard a shout, thought it was poachers and fired what was meant to be a warning shot.”
“It wasn’t the servants we should have worried about but my wife,” said Bill. “She guessed what was going on and sent your father to find us. Thought people finding out would put a stop to it. She never saw any poachers.”
“What happened to the gun?” asked Shadow coldly.
“I took it and the cartridges, wrapped them in plastic, then buried it in my veg patch,” said Bill. “It’s back there now.”
The chief constable clicked her fingers at Jimmy.
“Sergeant, tell the two officers on guard at the gate to start looking in the gatehouse vegetable patch for a gun,” she ordered, and Jimmy obediently radioed to the officers at the end of the drive as Sybil continued to speak.
“I ran back here and made it look like there had been a burglary in the gunroom.”
“What about Flynn? What did he ever do to you?” asked Annabel quietly. Sybil turned to look at her daughter-in-law with loathing.
“That man has been trouble since the day he was born,” she replied coldly. “His father’s death caused Xander to resign from the army, and he felt so guilty he kept going back to Ireland to see the son of the soldier who had been killed on his watch. He even brought scarlet fever back from there after one of his visits, and it nearly killed his own son. He paid for Flynn to become a vet, then set him up in business on our doorstep, always comparing him to poor Bertie.”
“You were jealous,” said Shadow simply. “Jealous of a young man, who was everything your own son wasn’t—clever, charming, kind, adored by your husband—and you were jealous of Annabel taking your place here. You may have moved out for the sake of appearances, but you couldn’t give up control of the estate. With the two of them out of the way you could return to—” he turned to Annabel “—how did you put it? The status quo.”
Annabel nodded slowly. Sybil glared at her, before turning to Shadow.
“She has no idea of her responsibilities. The role of a duchess is to support the duke and produce an heir. She did neither. I’m not going to be here forever. What if she tried to pass off that child she’s carrying as Bertie’s? A FitzAllan inheriting Kirkdale!”
Annabel sprang to her feet and instinctively placed her hand over her stomach. Her face, so often inscrutable, was now full of anger as she spoke. “I had no intention of staying here and passing off my baby, as you put it. I couldn’t wait to get away,” she hissed. “If you hadn’t interfered Flynn and I would have been gone by now. I’m not a coward like you. I would happily have thrown this all away for the man I loved, and I certainly didn’t want any of Bertie’s bloody money.”
The two women stood glaring at each other, only inches apart. Annabel clenched and unclenched her fist. Shadow was about to step in, but Sir Charles stood up and placed a calming hand on Annabel’s shoulder.
“Sit down, my dear, and think of the child,” he said gently, then looked at Sybil and Bill. “I really think someone should advise the two of you to call a lawyer, before you say anything further,” he said firmly.
Sybil, who had regained her usual calm, smiled politely. “Thank you for your concern, Sir Charles, but I’m quite happy to leave with the Chief Inspector. I only have one request. May I visit my greenhouse one last time?” Sybil asked, addressing Shadow.
“Of course, Your Grace,” replied the chief constable quickly, clearly flustered by the turn of events and determined to take back control.
“Sergeant Chang will accompany you,” added Shadow.
“That won’t be necessary,” snapped the chief constable. Sybil nodded her thanks and slowly and steadily made her way through the French doors. She paused for a second and gently touched her faithful gamekeeper on the arm. The old man looked close to tears. He nodded at the rest of the room before turning to follow her.
A few moments passed in silence. Bertie and Seb both sat with their heads in their hands. Plum reached out to stroke her son’s back. Sir Charles began pacing up and down. The chief constable attempted to make a comment about the weather to him, but he ignored her. Bertie glanced over to his wife.
“Is it true about you and Flynn?” he asked quietly. Annabel nodded. Shadow had felt quite sorry for him, as his wife and mother had talked about him as if he weren’t there. Bertie took a sip of his drink.
“You might have waited until we’d had a child,” he said. Shadow raised his eyes to the ceiling. All sympathy had disappeared. Annabel gave her husband a look of utter contempt.
“And how was that ever meant to happen when you haven’t been near me in months? You’re not exactly innocent yourself, Bertie!” she snapped.
The room was quiet for a few seconds before Bertie, his face creased with concentration, spoke again. “I don’t understand. Why was Mummy meeting old Greenwood in the woods all those years ago?”
“For heaven’s sake, Bertie! Don’t be so naïve. Why do you think?” hissed his sister.
“It’s all very Lady Chatterley, isn’t it?” Lavinia smirked and her husband snorted with laughter.
“Shut up, both of you,” ordered Annabel.
Everyone fell silent again. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. Shadow watched the ornamental gold hands as they moved slowly. Five minutes had passed. Annabel rose from perching on the edge of one of the sofas and strolled over to the library table. She poured herself a large glass of orange juice before turning to look at Shadow.
“I suppose you are aware that another of those stupid secret tunnels runs from the greenhouse to the gatehouses,” she said casually.
“Annabel!” exclaimed her husband.
Annabel continued calmly. “The seventh duke had it installed so he could visit his mistress without anyone knowing. Which you have to admit is rather ironic.”
“How can you be so disloyal to Mummy?” the duke demanded whilst still looking bewildered.
“That bitch! She killed the only man I loved and tried to frame me by stealing my phone. I don’t owe her my loyalty and I’ll be damned if I sit here and let her get away with murder.”
The chief constable turned very pale.
Shadow had heard enough. “Don’t just stand there, get after them,” he bellowed to Jimmy. His sergeant returned after less than a minute.
“They’ve gone, Chief,” he panted. Shadow resisted the urge to curse. At that moment, Jimmy’s radio crackled, and he stepped outside again. A few seconds later he reappeared, and Shadow knew at once it was bad news.
“The two constables have found the gun, but while they were busy in the garden an elderly man and woman stole their patrol car,” said Jimmy.
“For crying out loud!” exclaimed Shadow. “What were they thinking of leaving their keys in the ignition?” He turned to the others in the room. “Where might they have gone?”
“I’m sorry I can’t think,” added Plum with a shake of her head. “The estate is over fifty thousand acres. They could go anywhere.”
Suddenly Shadow recalled his conversation with Sybil in the church graveyard and the photos Seb had shown him.
“Is she still able to fly a plane?” he asked. Plum nodded as her lip began to tremble.
“Yes. She’s not meant to, but she’s an excellent pilot.”
“Mum, why are you helping them?” asked Seb, who was trying to choke back tears.
“Because I want them to find her and bring her back,” replied Plum calmly then looking directly at Shadow: “I don’t want her to do something stupid.”
Shadow turned to Jimmy. “Put a call out to all vehicles in the area. I think they are heading to Sutton Bank,” he ordered as he headed out of the door closely followed by Jimmy, talking quickly on the phone. They hurried out of the castle and to their car. Shadow had only just fastened his seat belt when Jimmy’s foot hit the accelerator and the wheels spun on the gravel as they sped down the drive. They turned right through the village and Shadow could hear the wail of sirens as several marked cars headed in the same direction. He gripped the edge of his seat as Jimmy hurtled down the narrow twisting country lanes, his eyes fixed on the white horse carved into the chalk cliff, as it grew closer and closer.
When they reached the car park at Sutton Bank there were three police cars with their lights flashing and several officers standing around. Shadow stuck his head out of the window as it shrieked to a halt.
“What are you waiting for? Get up there,” he demanded pointing to the steep steps that led to the top of the bank.
“Why do you think she’s gone up there and not into the woodland?” asked Jimmy.
“Because there’s a gliding club up there and she can fly a plane,” snapped Shadow. “Keep going. The club is on top of the escarpment.”
A few seconds later they arrived in the gliding club car park where they found the stolen and now abandoned police car. Jimmy jumped out and started sprinting towards the other officers who had climbed to the top of the cliff. Shadow stepped out of the car and held up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. Above him he could hear an ominous whirring sound. Suddenly Jimmy and the uniformed officers threw themselves to the ground as a small red plane flew over them and off the cliff. Shadow held his breath and watched as the little plane rose high in the sky, executed a perfect loop above the village before turning and swooping over their heads again and soaring into sky once more.
Then suddenly, with lightning speed, it came nosediving down to the gorse-covered moor. A second later there was a bang and a flash, then a plume of thick black smoke began to rise into the air. Jimmy and the others leapt to their feet and chased towards the site of the crash. They were stopped abruptly in their tracks by a second loud explosion. Shadow hurried over to where his fellow officers were shielding their faces from the blazing wreckage.
“Call the fire brigade and an ambulance, for what it’s worth,” he instructed Jimmy. “I’ll call the chief constable. She can break the news to the family.”
*
A little over an hour later, when the firefighters had confirmed there were no survivors and the ambulance had taken away what remained of the charred bodies, Shadow and Jimmy drove back to the village at a much more sedate pace.
“What first made you think it was her?” asked Jimmy.
“That first day we met her outside the greenhouse and she didn’t refer to Flynn by name, but called him ‘the poor Irish gentleman’. That struck me as odd. She must have known him for years but didn’t use his name. It was as though she wanted to distance herself from him. I also wondered why she was carrying a wax jacket on such a hot day and that huge trug of wildflowers. Bill told me she only used cultivated flowers for the displays she created for the party, so I think she had hidden the Lumley gun in the trug beneath the flowers after the shooting. The wax jacket was to protect her from the wetness of the tunnel and to camouflage her when she waited for Flynn in the copse.”
Jimmy nodded. “And Bill was there when we first spoke to her too. Remember he picked up the trug? That’s when he must have taken the gun back to his garden to hide it,” he said.
