Dead on Cue (18 page)

‘It was, like, just floating past,' said Kimberley Dunne, assistant housekeeper. ‘I thought it was a log but it seemed to have a kind of face. I was scared out of my wits.'

The body was that of an unknown woman but rumour is current that it is the remains of Emma Simms, a young actress also taking part in the same ill-fated show in which Gerry Harlington appeared. The castle is owned by Sir Rufus Beaudegrave who lives there with his four daughters. His wife ran off with a local gamekeeper some years ago and there has been no one in his life since. He refused to make any comment last night.

There were some blurred photographs of Dominic Tennant leaving the premises with a grim-faced Potter at the wheel of the car. This was accompanied by a photograph of the castle, deliberately darkened down to make it look frightening, and a huge picture of Gerry Harlington in full Wasp Man gear.

Nick sighed and laid down the paper and at that moment the telephone rang. He picked it up.

‘Hello, Lakehurst Vicarage.'

‘Is that you, Nick?' said a subdued female voice that he barely recognized.

‘Jonquil?'

‘Yes, it's me. Have you read the papers this morning?'

‘Indeed I have.'

‘The police have been on and want me to identify the body in the morgue.' She gulped.

‘Why you? Hadn't Emma Simms got any other relatives? That is, if it is her.'

‘Apparently not. She was an only child and her father is dead, while her mother lives on the Isle of Man – or somewhere equally remote. Nick, I'm terrified. I've never been to a mortuary. I'm afraid I might burst into tears or do something equally stupid.'

‘When do you have to go?'

‘This morning. They are very keen to get the identification done. I have to be at the mortuary in Lewes by eleven o'clock. A police car is coming to pick me up at ten.'

Nick said, ‘Oh my dear, I would offer to go with you but this morning is absolutely impossible. I've got parish visits to the elderly and many of the old dears are housebound. They quite look forward to my coming. Say it brightens up their day.'

‘Of course. I quite understand,' Jonquil answered in a voice that meant she did but couldn't help but resent it.

‘Why not come and have supper with me tonight?'

Her tone brightened. ‘Oh, could I really?'

‘Of course. I feel I owe you a meal after our last slightly intoxicated meeting.'

‘That was all the fault of that wretched policeman.'

‘Tennant? No, trust me, Jonquil, he's a good bloke. Honestly.'

‘I hope you're right, Nick. So what time shall I come?'

‘About seven o'clock.'

‘I'll be there, pale but determined.'

And what, thought Nick, as he hung up the phone, exactly was it that Jonquil was determined about?

A
fter the identification had been done; after a weeping Jonquil Charmwood had been taken into a side room and offered tea and biscuits; after Tennant and Potter had faced the grim reality that the bloated body lying in the morgue was indeed the mortal shell of Emma Simms, they had gone into conference back at Lewes Headquarters.

‘Right, Potter, we're going to catch him – or her – and fast, before they decide to pick on somebody else.'

‘I doubt that, sir.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I doubt that it's a serial killer. It's pretty obvious to me that Emma saw something – wandering about as she was, not sure of the drill – and had to be got rid of.'

‘That would be the obvious conclusion but one can never be sure of anything in a murder case,' Tennant answered pompously.

‘Yes, sir. I learnt that many years ago.'

Tennant sighed. ‘Sorry, I was trying to be a smart arse, a position which, when adopted, needs a sharp kick up same. Thanks for that.'

Potter grinned. He was, at last, growing more confident, more into his stride. Despite earlier reservations, Tennant was now convinced that he had a great future in the police force. The inspector shuffled the papers on his desk.

‘These are the statements from every member of the cast and backstage crew regarding the night of the murder. I've read them all and there are several people that I want to interview again, including all the committee and the man who moved the body. Oh, and young Oswald as well.'

‘Right, sir. When do we start?'

Tennant glanced at his watch. ‘After lunch. We can see some of them at work, the others at home this evening.'

‘What about Oswald? He seemed most unhappy when we interviewed him at his college.'

‘Yes, you're right. We'll catch him in his lair this time.'

Tennant picked up the statements again. ‘All right, Potter. I'll meet you outside at one thirty.'

Potter sloped off and Tennant stared at the pieces of paper again and again, realizing as he did so that nobody had asked any specific questions about the movements of the bear on the first night. It was of paramount importance to discover exactly what the ill-fated Miss Simms had done with herself before and after the Elizabethan Fair. Putting the statements to one side, Tennant stood up and allowed himself a few minutes to think, staring out of the window as he did so.

Punctually at half past one he and Potter took off towards Oakbridge. They had arranged their calls geographically and thus started with Estelle Yeoman, the ex-professional actress. They found her at home, dramatically dressed in a long scarlet skirt and black sweater, a purple scarf hung nonchalantly around her neck. She opened the front door and pulled a bit of a face on seeing the identity of her callers.

‘Oh, hello. I didn't expect to see you again.'

‘May we come in?' asked Tennant pleasantly.

‘By all means,' she answered, and opened the front door wide.

Tennant, Potter following, notebook in hand, stepped into a hall laden with posters of various theatrical productions, including one from Tedmouth Repertory Company starring Estelle Yeoman as Marguerite in the stage version of
The Scarlet Pimpernel
. Tennant, frustrated thespian that he was, stood staring at them, thinking that the venues were somewhat second rate. Estelle, however, misunderstood and stood smiling at him beatifically.

‘Those were the days,' she said. ‘You interested in the theatre, Inspector?'

‘Oh yes, I enjoy a good show,' he answered, knowing that at one time it had been his burning desire to become a professional actor and how nowadays he no longer had the time or energy to do anything but the smallest character role.

Estelle nodded and called up the stairs, ‘Fizz dear, we've got company. It's the police. Make us some coffee, there's a love.' She smiled at Tennant. ‘I presume you won't have anything stronger?'

‘Thank you, no. On duty and all that.'

They followed her into an audacious sitting room, the walls painted deepest red with a large picture of a female nude lying provocatively on a bed hanging over the fireplace.

Estelle turned to them. ‘Do sit down and tell me how I can help you.'

‘Well,' Tennant answered, thinking how attractive she was, ‘did you notice anything unusual at the one and only performance of Son et Lumière? Was there anybody out of place? Or anything, come to that?'

She frowned. ‘I thought it odd that Robin – he was playing one of the knights – fell over backwards. I was watching from the side by the way. The choreography of the fight had gone out of the window and now we all know why. But from where I was standing I could swear that at that moment the door leading to the staircase behind Gerry Harlington swung open a fraction, though it was pretty dark up there.'

‘Did you see anybody come out of the door?'

‘No, that's the bugger of it. I didn't see a soul. And the next second Gerry took the famous tumble and crashed to the earth below.'

‘Very realistically,' said Tennant drily.

‘Indeed,' Estelle answered, looking thoughtful.

There was a moment's silence then Tennant said, ‘I'd like to turn to the subject of the bear if I may. You know that Emma Simms took the part that night.'

‘Yes, and she's gone missing. It's been all over the papers.'

‘Then you have probably read about the body in the moat.' Estelle nodded. ‘Well, I have to tell you that it has been identified.'

Estelle looked stricken. ‘Emma?'

‘I'm afraid so.'

The door opened at that moment and Estelle said, ‘Oh, this is my partner, Fizz.'

Tennant and Potter looked up and saw a wildly pretty girl staggering beneath a large tray laden with cups, saucers, a cafetière and a mass of homemade biscuits, judging by their fresh oven smell.

‘Thanks, darling,' said Estelle casually.

Tennant rose to his feet and asked if he could help but Fizz waved him aside and lurched towards a coffee table and thankfully placed the tray upon it. She looked towards the inspector with a beautiful smile.

‘Thought you might like a homemade biscuit,' she said in a little-girl voice.

Potter took one and shot his boss a somewhat amused grin. Tennant pretended he hadn't seen it.

‘Fizz and I met in rep,' Estelle continued in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘She's resting at the moment but there's a TV producer hot on her heels. Isn't he, love?'

‘Yes,' lisped Fizz.

‘Well done,' said Tennant with not a flicker of a smile. ‘But if you don't mind, Miss Yeoman, I've come to talk about Miss Simms. Now, cast your mind back, did you notice anything odd about the bear on the night of the performance?'

‘Well, yes and no. First of all she was already in costume when I arrived which I thought odd. But no doubt you've heard all this already. But then I think she must have changed somewhere because I thought I saw a strange girl wandering about.'

‘Would it be this girl?' interrupted Potter promptly, and produced a photograph of the body taken as soon as it had come out of the water.

Fizz let out an endearing little scream and Estelle patted her hand fondly.

‘I'm not sure. This is rather ghoulish, isn't it?'

Potter looked straight faced. ‘I'm sorry if it upsets you, madam, but we have to photograph a victim of drowning as soon as they come out of the water. After that the body swells up and is almost unrecognizable.'

‘Well, it could be but I wouldn't swear to it.'

Tennant nodded. ‘If you could just tell me where you saw the girl and what she was doing.'

‘Just that. Wandering. She was wearing a green dress with a rather fetching scarf round her neck. I would have challenged her but I didn't have time. I was just about to go on as the twenties Lady Beaudegrave. And that scene was all mucked up because Jonquil wasn't there. She was supposed to do the Charleston with Barry but as she didn't appear he grabbed me instead.' She grinned. ‘But that's show business for you.'

‘Indeed it is.'

Tennant stood up. ‘Thank you for your help, Miss Yeoman. If you should think of anything else regarding the strange girl or Mr Harlington please don't hesitate to ring me.'

He handed her his card. She tucked it into a pocket of her skirt.

‘There's one thing, Inspector.'

‘Yes?'

‘Gerry Harlington was a complete prat and though he didn't deserve the ending he got the theatre is better off without him.'

‘Thank you for your views,' said Tennant solemnly, and allowed Fizz to show him and Potter out.

Their next call was on Annette Muffat who was quite scary close to, reminding the inspector of a drag queen. Her blonde Farah Fawcett hair was dark as a starless midnight at the roots and her slightly orange make-up was caked in the little lines around her eyes. Her lipstick was deepest crimson and did not suit her, nor did her outfit, which consisted of a pair of black leggings with a puce tunic over the top. She was at work in a healthy baker's shop when the pair of policemen called and her smile of welcome turned to an icy stare when she saw who had just pinged the bell.

Tennant produced his badge with a flourish and introduced Potter, then said, ‘Can we step into the back, please. We would like to speak to you in private.'

Annette clicked her tongue against her teeth and said, ‘Oh really! Can't you see I'm on my own.'

Potter answered, ‘Then we can speak in here.'

She looked grumpy. ‘Well, what is it?'

‘As you can probably guess,' said Tennant equably, ‘it's about the murder of Gerry Harlington. Did you see anything unusual that night? Anything at all? Anybody out of place, for example?'

‘Well, hardly. I was in the bloody changing tent when it happened. Getting ready for the Elizabethan Fair scene. But I've already told the police all this.'

‘Forgive me,' Tennant answered, turning on the pixieish charm. ‘I know what a bore it must be for you – going over old ground like this. But we poor coppers like it spelled out, I'm afraid. Tell me, was the bear in the tent with you?'

Annette paused and stared at the inspector, being rewarded with a warm gooseberry gaze which quite unsettled her.

‘Now you come to mention it, I don't think she was.' She looked into space. ‘No, I'm sure she wasn't.'

‘Have you any idea where she was?'

‘No, unless she was in the toilet.'

‘That would have been a bit awkward wouldn't it. In her bear skin and all,' put in Potter.

‘If she'd had any sense she would have gone before she changed,' answered Annette forthrightly. ‘But now we know that dear little Jonquil fielded a stand-in. I don't suppose the poor kid would have known her way around at all.'

‘You do realize that it was Emma Simms, the missing girl?' asked Tennant.

Annette sat down heavily. ‘Oh my God. I hadn't made the connection. So she's been found.'

‘Alas, yes.'