Ivy took a deep breath. So the man was unhinged, she thought, and even Beattie was frightened of him. That was why he needed to tell us all this stuff, to show how clever he is. She crossed her fingers and hoped he was not as clever as he thought he was. Gus’s calmness was reassuring, but she dreaded there would not be enough time before Keith went completely off his head and pulled the trigger. She found herself looking at her watch every two minutes.
He shook his head, and then rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He seemed to sway a little, and Beattie said, “Perhaps I could take over from here. Give you a bit of a rest?”
He frowned, but reluctantly agreed, and Beattie began. Then, before she had said more than a couple of sentences the door in the corner burst open, and Theo Roussel stood there. Keith snapped to attention and aimed the gun. Unfortunately for him, he took his eye off the others, and Gus, well trained, was on him in seconds, knocking the gun out of his hand and overpowering him. Beattie screamed and ran from the room.
“Well done, Halfhide,” Theo said, rubbing his wrists. “The buggers had me tied up in that cubbyhole. Took longer than I thought to get out.”
THEO TOLD THEM all to sit down and take deep breaths, while he fetched the brandy. “Better than sherry,” he said. “Depressing stuff, sherry.” Deirdre noticed admiringly that he was at once in charge. And all because of me, she thought romantically. Gus was still holding her hand and gave it a squeeze, reminding her he was there. He had not missed the soft look on her face as Theo came back with brandy and glasses.
“Shouldn’t we get on to the police at once?” Ivy said. She was feeling a little shaky, and noticed that Roy’s usually rosy cheeks were very pale.
“Of course, Miss Beasley,” Theo said. “But don’t worry. Beattie won’t get far. First let’s give ourselves a chance to collect our thoughts. And,” he added, glancing venomously at Keith, now well secured, “there are one or two questions I’d like to ask this appalling villain here.”
All except the now shivering twin relaxed a little. As Ivy listened to Theo asking angry questions and receiving grudging answers from Keith, she was shocked by the long years that had elapsed since this whole business began. How sad that Caroline’s unwanted pregnancy had caused so much sorrow and so many unhappy lives. And murder? As Theo squirreled the truth out of Keith, she began to see what might have happened. The answer really did depend on who had fathered the twins. It was about money, she realised sadly. The root of all evil, right enough.
Theo had paused. Then he said in a low voice, “It was my father, the wicked squire, who took advantage of your poor mother. And she was not the only one, if village rumours were correct.”
“Why didn’t he marry her?” said an indignant Deirdre.
“Because he was married already to his lady mother,” Keith spat out, pointing at Theo. “And the cruellest blow of all for my mother was that after producing Beattie and me and having us taken from her, only three weeks later Theo here, the legitimate son and heir, was produced to the rejoicing Roussel family.”
“And the others you mentioned?” Gus said to Theo, remembering the photograph on Miriam’s mantelpiece. Theo’s father, of course.
“I have no idea,” said Theo, but Gus knew he was lying.
“Oh surely, Mr. Roussel,” he said politely, “I think you knew that old Mrs. Blake was another of your father’s conquests, and poor Miriam was the result? He was a bit of a bastard, wasn’t he?”
Theo shook his head in embarrassment and did not answer. Then Keith butted in.
“We were the bastards!” he shouted, glaring at Theo. “Me and Beattie. And yes, in due course your father made arrangements for Beattie to work here at the Hall, where he could keep an eye on her. He shoved my mother out of sight when she was finally found dying in despair, with my other sister looking after her. They might just as well have been entombed in that grim old house, too scared to go out or talk to anybody.”
“Springfields?” said Ivy defensively. “It is in no way grim. The atmosphere in a house depends on who lives there…”
She was about to elaborate when she heard a scuffling noise and the main door into the drawing room opened. At last! She breathed a huge sigh of relief. First into the room came Katya, the light of battle in her eye. She rushed across to Ivy, embraced her and uttered dramatic thanks to God that the old lady was safe. “You are so clever!” she said, kissing Ivy’s cheek, “to send me text message! Our lessons not wasted!” she added, and kissed the other cheek.
She was followed by Beattie, mutinous and subdued, her hands cuffed to a policeman, and a neat, serious-faced man Theo recognised as the inspector who had asked so many questions after Mrs. Blake’s murder. Frobisher, that was his name.
“Good God, man,” he said sternly, “you don’t need those things on poor Beattie. This is the man you want. Please release her at once.”
Inspector Frobisher said frostily that they had met Miss Beatty running down the drive, and Mr. Roussel must leave him to know his own job. He added that he wished this gentleman and Miss Beatty to accompany him back to the police station.
“So no more explanations, then?” Gus said, thinking that Agatha would have spun it out for another hour or two. He was well aware that the full story had not yet been told. On the other hand, he did not wish to draw police attention to himself, and he nodded when the inspector said he would be in touch with all of them later. Then Frobisher led the policeman and the twins out, cautioning those left behind not to gossip around the village. “As if I would!” said Ivy.
Roy suggested they have more brandy, and Theo refilled the glasses. He had brightened up considerably, and twinkled at bright-eyed Katya. “Did you say Miss Beasley sent you a text message, my dear?” he asked.
“Oh yes, Sir Roussel,” she said, and for one awful moment Ivy thought she was going to curtsey. “I have been teaching Miss Beasley the wonders of the mobile phone. She is willing student, I must stress.”
“Huh!” grunted Ivy. “Wretched things. Still, I suppose they have their uses, my dear,” she added gratefully, and patted Katya’s small hand.
Fifty-two
IT WAS A sober foursome that left the Hall and made their way out to Deirdre’s car. Ivy and Roy settled in the back, and Gus said he would walk the few hundred yards back to Hangman’s Row. Deirdre sat still for a moment, not switching on the engine. “Don’t you want a coffee or something with me?” she said tentatively to Gus.
He shook his head and smiled at her. “I’ll ring you,” he said, “but first I have to call in at Hangman’s Row. Take care, all of you,” he added. “As soon as I know more, we’ll get together and wrap this whole thing up. Well done, you two,” he added, feeling a sudden lump in his throat as he looked at Ivy, still so straight and severe, and little old Roy once more holding her hand.
The car purred off down the lane, and he walked slowly after it. He made a mental note of the answers they still needed, and by the time he reached Miriam’s gate, he was ready for her.
“Gus?” she said, answering the door at once. “What on earth’s been going on at the Hall? Was that a police car? And Beattie in it? And who was the strange man? Come in, do, and tell me all.”
Gus realised that she was excited, pleased at the prospect of upheavals at the Hall. “I could do with a glass of your mother’s primrose wine,” he said, looking at his watch. He followed her into the neat sitting room. The first thing he looked for was the photograph of John Roussel, and there it was. He could have sworn the old sod winked at him.
He decided to come to the point. “Miriam, did you know your mother was one of John Roussel’s favourites?” Couldn’t put it more tactfully than that, he had decided.