A Woman Unknown (39 page)

‘Is there some news?’ she asked. ‘Has Philippa set the date for the funeral? Am I being given orders to stay clear?’

So she had given me an opening. But I wanted to be well away from the barn, and from Cromer, to put my case for leaving sufficiently forcefully. She would need time to dress. I had not counted on finding her naked.

‘You must be cold. Are you planning to go on sitting for him half the night?’

‘Oh you know artists. I’m supposed to be grateful to be his muse. And of course it does divert me. Anything is better than the boredom of the big house, though I am expected for supper. What time is it?’

I told her.

‘I shall have to dress. I suppose you could give me a lift.’

This was better than I had hoped. ‘Of course.’

We were in the porch, and suddenly Cromer was behind us, having made giant strides from the barn.

‘I’m packing in, darling,’ Caroline said. ‘You’ll have to carry on without me.’

He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s all right. Have the rest of the night off.’

She laughed.

Cromer turned to me. ‘Stay for a drink, will you?’

Inward groan. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but could hardly refuse.

The three of us went into the shabby parlour.

Cromer made for the decanter on the sideboard. ‘Who’s for a drop of Lord Fotheringham’s finest?’

‘Make mine a double. What a miserable fire.’ She drew the battered armchair up to the hearth, but made no attempt to put coals on the fire. She would ring the bell for that.

I sat down on the small sofa opposite the fireplace.

Cromer handed us each a glass.

I took a sip and placed my glass on the low side table.

‘Now what’s all this?’ Caroline took a swig. ‘I’m getting to know you by now, Mrs Shackleton. You don’t come without a reason.’

‘You were right, Miss Windham. There is a date for the funeral, and Mrs Runcie asked me to tell you. It’s a week on Friday.’

‘So I’m not banned?’

‘On the contrary. In fact, there’s a silver cigarette case that Philippa thinks you gave to Everett.’

A look of deep hurt flashed in her eyes. She turned to look at the fire. ‘I might have given him a cigarette case.
Is it valuable? Studded with diamonds or something? If so, I definitely gave it him.’

I wanted Cromer to sit down, well away from me. But he did not. He hovered between me and the fire.

‘And a lighter,’ I added, ‘also silver.’

‘Why is she being so magnanimous? Doesn’t she know we planned to go away together the minute the divorce came through?’

Cromer was looking at me. There was something in his eyes: suspicion. That put me on my guard. Well I could allay his suspicion by producing the cigarette case and the lighter. I took the cigarette case from my satchel. I stood up and handed it to Caroline.

She gave a small, hurt cry. ‘He hardly ever used this. Oh he did at first, but then she bought him gold. Just like her to buy him gold. And not even a damn cigarette in the thing.’

I handed her one of mine.

Cromer did not move from his spot, standing on the hearth rug between us. I sat down again.

‘Where’s the lighter?’ Caroline asked. ‘I bet it’s not even working.’

I delved in the satchel for the lighter but could not find it.

Cromer took a taper from the jug by the fire and lit Caroline’s cigarette. He laughed. ‘Women’s bags! May I help you?’

Before I could stop him, he tipped the contents of my satchel onto the space on the sofa beside me. I straight away knew why. He had seen a corner of the photograph. Fortunately, it had fallen face down. I reached to retrieve it.

Cromer smiled. ‘You took such an interest in my work the last time you called, Mrs Shackleton. I almost thought you might be here about a commission.’

My hand was on the photograph; too soon. ‘Our residents’ committee meets at the end of this month. I shall be showing the photographs of your work.’

Caroline looked at us curiously. She took a long drag on her cigarette. ‘Do you have the lighter, Mrs Shackleton? I remember it now. It was a birthday present, and I meant to have it engraved.’

‘Here it is.’ I handed the lighter to Cromer to pass to Caroline. The moment he shifted his position, I would return the photograph to my satchel. But without passing the lighter to Caroline, he made a sudden movement and reached for the photograph. ‘Is this one of the pictures you took of my work?’

Caroline said, ‘Give me the lighter.’ She leaned forward and took it from his hand, as he stared at the print.

With his back to the fire, he held onto it, without saying a word for the longest time.

Caroline clicked the lighter. ‘It works.’ She looked up at Cromer. ‘Rupert, why do you men always hog the fire?’

At last, Cromer looked at me. ‘It’s trick photography. I hope you know that, Mrs Shackleton. I wasn’t there.’

Caroline stood up. ‘What are you looking at? What’s trick photography?’

She took the photograph from him.

‘It’s the shoot. Rupert, you weren’t in the shooting party.’

‘I told you. It’s trick photography. Diamond was known for it.’

I tried to make light of the situation. It was in my favour that Caroline was here, and the angry housekeeper. ‘I printed a negative from Leonard Diamond’s locker.’

Caroline said, ‘Rupert? You’re pointing your gun at me.’

She became so still, as if turned into the stone figure Cromer had been carving.

‘I told you. It’s bloody trick photography.’

I said quickly, too quickly, ‘Len Diamond had a great sense of humour.’

‘Had?’ Caroline looked at me, and then at Rupert.

‘He’s dead,’ I said flatly. It was too late for pretence. ‘Mr Cromer isn’t pointing the gun at you, Miss Windham. He’s aiming at Everett Runcie’s heart. You moved, and so did Everett. I expect there was too much of a commotion for him to try a second shot.’

Time stood still.

Cromer said, ‘This is ridiculous. You’ve cooked this up in your dark room.’ He turned to Caroline. ‘She’s a photographer.’ And then back to me. ‘Admit it. I don’t know what your game is.’

‘I have no game, unlike Leonard Diamond who I believe wanted rather a lot of money for this print and the other negatives.’

‘The man was unstable. He hanged himself didn’t he?’

In a small voice, Caroline said, ‘How do you know that?’

‘It was in the paper.’ There was a burst of confidence in his voice.

‘I didn’t see it.’

‘Not in
The Times
, in the local rag.’

‘You don’t take the local paper.’

‘For God’s sake, Caroline, it was in the paper. This picture proves nothing.’

I said, ‘Leonard Diamond did not commit suicide. You strangled him, and made it look like suicide, because he knew what you had done. You wanted Everett Runcie dead. You went to the hotel. You strangled him in his bed while he slept, knocked out by wine and brandy. It must have seemed so simple.’

Caroline stared at him. Her voice came out in a throaty whisper. ‘You bastard. All this time, you’ve had me being your bloody muse, shivering and naked. And I thought you were on my side. I told myself, Rupert is asking me to pose because he thinks it will help me survive. And it was you. You killed Everett.’

She was still holding the photograph.

He snatched it from her. ‘You’re wrong.’

‘You killed him, didn’t you?’

‘No!’ The big man took a step back. It’s not how it looks.’ He threw the photograph on the fire. He looked at her beseechingly, shaking his head. His arms fell limply by his sides. I noticed the size of his hands, large enough to put around a man’s neck, to choke, to press the life away.

‘I did it for you, Caroline. Runcie ruined you. He should have married you when you were young. Now no one will. You’ll never have a home, unless it’s with me.’

‘You? You? We were going to Italy.’

‘Where he already had a widow in his sights. A countess.’

‘Liar!’

‘He told me. He planned to marry her. An old bag
with money. You would have been the mistress still.’

‘Well then, yes I would. Do you think he would ever have loved anyone but me?’

‘He was taking you where he thought I couldn’t follow. But I would have followed. Because it would have been the same as before, swearing his love for you, and marrying someone who would pay the bills, and he would have hurt you over and over again.’

They had forgotten I was there. It was not enough that he should confess to killing Everett Runcie. I wanted him to admit killing Diamond.

I stepped between them. ‘Leonard Diamond tried to blackmail you,’ I said.

‘Him!’ He gave a dismissive gesture as if to wave away a fly. ‘It was easier to put my hands around his neck than to put my hands on fifty pounds. I gave him the chance to return the negatives, but I took a rope with me, just in case.’

Cromer stepped around me, towards Caroline, saying her name, pleading.

That was when she picked up the poker. She struck at him, hitting him on the shoulder. He cried out in pain. She raised the poker again. He grabbed her arm and forced the poker from her hand. He encircled her in his arms, he said, ‘I love you, Caroline. I’ve always loved you. He knew that. He played with both of us.’

‘Don’t touch me!’

‘Just kiss me, Caroline, just kiss me.’

She struggled to free herself and brought up her knee, giving him a sharp knock where it hurt.

He released her, turned and ran from the room.

‘Caroline! Let him go. There’s nowhere he can hide.’

She ignored me, picking up the poker again, running after him.

I followed her, into the hall, through to the kitchen.

Cromer ran from the house, through the back door.

Caroline, barefoot, chased after him, screeching a war cry, brandishing the poker.

I watched as Cromer jumped on his motorbike and sped off into the night.

Caroline raced after the motorbike.

At the same moment, two police cars, and Sykes on his Clyno motorbike, came bumping along the path.

Cromer did not get far. Haring at a bend, his motorcycle overturned. He was flung through the air, a dark shape against a darkening sky. Die there, I willed, hating the thought of Rupert Cromer with a rope around his neck. But he came stumbling back towards the police car, half carried by two sturdy constables, wildly calling out that he was glad he had finished off Runcie. ‘I killed a cheating fraudster, and I killed a blackmailer. Where’s my medal?’

The car door slammed shut.

Cromer’s head appeared through the window, calling, ‘I did it for you, Caroline. He didn’t deserve you.’

The car drove away.

Caroline, hair blowing in the wind, marched after the disappearing police car, as if an avenging army fell into step behind her.

Two policemen each took an arm to restrain her. She shook them off.

A third policeman disarmed her of the poker.

Marcus said, ‘Why, Kate? You could have left this to me.’

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Sykes called at your house to see if you had printed the photographs. He intended to bring them in to us. Good thing he was able to let himself in. He had the foresight to look at the drying print and made the connection.’

Sykes joined us. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Shackleton?’

I felt anything but all right, but nodded.

Sykes turned to Marcus. ‘Cromer’s bike is a two-stroke Enfield, sir, same as the one seen in the alley.’ To me, Sykes said, ‘Where was Mrs Sugden when we could have done with her to send a message?’

‘At night school. She’s started a class in typewriting.’

I glanced back towards the cottage. The dour Sergeant Wilson was struggling to make Miss Windham listen to him, to calm down, to dress.

Marcus cleared his throat, drawing my attention. ‘Kate, I suppose you know Miss Windham reasonably well and could pacify her and take her statement.’

‘No, Marcus. Not this time. I’ll leave Miss Windham to you and Sergeant Wilson.’

‘She’s the one they call the warrior queen?’

‘The Viking Queen; beaten but undefeated.’