Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [41]
They bustled off to spread the gossip.
When the break was over, Hamish collected more sandwiches and tea and retreated to a table at the back of the hall to watch as the rehearsal resumed.
They were all very amateur, including Priscilla, who delivered Lady Macbeth’s lines without passion but with a sort of icy disdain which was quite effective. And together it somehow worked. The mist had drifted into the hall, creating the right atmosphere for a Shakespearean tragedy.
When he went back to the police station, he could feel a light damp breeze beginning to fan his cheek. The dog and cat were out. They came and went by the large, expensive cat flap, a present from a grateful inspector Hamish had worked with on his last case. He knew they were perfectly capable of looking after themselves and that he should no longer plague Angela with them when he was going to be away for any length of time, but he could not stop worrying about them, and felt relieved when the flap banged and the pair finally strolled in.
He was about to go to bed when Jimmy rang. ‘Good news, Hamish. Blair’s charged Mark Gentle with the murders of Mrs Gentle and Irena even though he’ll need more evidence. Mind you, he’s screaming innocence. He says he came up before the family reunion to sweet-talk the old girl and make sure he was still in her will. But I can’t get out of him why he thought he needed an alibi.’
‘If he gets a good defence lawyer,’ said Hamish, ‘he might easily get off. The evidence is only circumstantial. Was Irena blackmailing him?’
‘No, because, I suppose, she died before Mrs Gentle.’
‘Exactly, Jimmy. There’s no real leverage there for blackmail. A lot of folk threaten to kill people when they’re angry.’
‘Don’t rain on my parade, Hamish. We’ve got him. Go to sleep.’
The morning dawned sunny and balmy with only thin traces of the previous night’s mist. Hamish decided to go back up to the castle. The family would be preparing to leave. He wanted to take another look in that nursery. He fed Sonsie and Lugs and forced himself not to phone Angela and ask her to look after them.
When he arrived, they were all getting into their cars. ‘What is it now?’ asked Andrew.
‘I’m just going up to look at that nursery again.’
‘We don’t want to wait around for you. Here’s the key. Lock up when you leave. Here’s my card. Post the key to me.’
Hamish went into the castle and climbed the stairs to the nursery. He carefully removed the tape from across the door, opened it, and went in.
The room was in chaos. It looked as if it had been torn apart. Even teddy bears had been ripped open. The police had made a thorough search.
He imagined Irena sitting by the fire, trying to keep warm. She must have been terrified of going back to her old life or she would not have put up with such treatment.
There did not seem to be much point in his searching for anything now. He cleared some toys off a chair by the window and sat down to think. Why had she been carrying around that small, expensive tape recorder? What had first led her to think there might be someone worth blackmailing? Why had Mark’s been the only male voice on the tape?
There was a crash from somewhere below. Hamish rose and left the room, darting for the stairs. He gained the last stretch of stairs leading to the hall, leaping down the stairs three at a time.
He searched all over. A heavy pot was lying on its side on the stone flags of the hall. That must have been the crash he had heard.
He ran outside and looked down the drive. No one was in sight.
He made his way back into the castle and began to walk slowly up the stairs. He stopped dead before he reached the first landing. A wire was stretched across the second step. If he had not been leaping down the steps but taking them one at a time, he could have tumbled down and broken his neck on the stone flags of the hall below.
He took out his phone and called Jimmy.
Jimmy listened impatiently as Hamish told him how he had