Heirs of the Body(59)
“Sorry, no,” said Daisy, “but I haven’t been looking out for it. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Oh well, no rush you know. It’ll turn up. Must be about time to dress for dinner. No dressing gong in this house,” he said to Raymond. “I did away with it. Had enough of being summoned by bells in my life. So, no dressing gongs or bells. ‘Changing,’ I mean. Crowley chappie doesn’t own a dinner jacket, I understand. Different customs in Trinidad, of course.”
“We dress for dinner in Cape Town. Must keep the side up, don’t you know.” Raymond sounded sarcastic.
What was he up to? One minute he was professing respect for Edgar, the next mocking him. Daisy couldn’t make him out.
EIGHTEEN
“It was strange,” said Daisy, describing to Alec the encounter between Edgar and Raymond as they changed into slightly more formal clothes for dinner. “They don’t like each other, that was obvious. But I had the impression that Raymond has decided Fairacres is worth having, and even worth sucking up to Edgar.”
“Being on good terms with Edgar won’t make any difference to the likelihood of his being heir,” Alec pointed out.
“No, but he might think it would be best to be on the right side of the present viscount if he is the heir.”
“Daisy, stop beating about the bush. You suspect Raymond now wants Fairacres badly enough to try to get rid of his rivals?”
“It’s just that he took out that hideous gold cigarette case and I noticed how it caught the light from the window. The sun would reflect brilliantly from it. He could have deliberately flashed it into Ben’s eyes, hoping to cause an accident. No one would notice. They’d only see him taking out a cigarette. It would certainly be less conspicuous than using the hand mirror he bought at the white-elephant stall.”
“He did? Odd!”
“Not really,” Daisy said regretfully. “It was more or less by accident.”
“How can one accidentally buy a mirror?”
“He didn’t want to buy anything, but I persuaded him it would be the diplomatic thing to do. He told the woman minding the stall he’d take anything, so of course she picked out the most optimistically priced object. So, at least at that point, he wasn’t intending to use it to cause an accident. Perhaps it gave him the idea, though. Of course, Laurette carries a pocket mirror at all times. She’s always touching up her makeup. She or Vincent could have used that. Frank—”
“It’s not difficult to come by something with a reflective surface,” said Alec, impatient. “The question is, why do it at all? A fall from a trotting donkey is about as likely to be lethal as jumping off a mounting block. Not to mention that Ben has a little brother at home, so what would be the point?”
“That’s true,” Daisy conceded. “They all seem to have sons and/or brothers waiting in the wings.”
“They do? There you are, then.”
“I doubt they’re all aware of one another’s closer relatives. Martha chats to me and you seem quite pally with Frank; otherwise they hardly speak to each other, though, beyond polite nothings. But do you realise how it widens the field of suspects? Any of the sons and brothers could be lurking hereabouts—Well, not Ben’s little brother.”
“So could Martha’s husband. We seem to have lost track of him.”
“He wouldn’t know who was who.”
“Unless he’s been in touch with Martha. Did she write or receive any letters in London?”
“Only a couple to and from the sister who’s looking after her little girls. She showed me the ones with news of the kids.”
“But not the ones she wrote?”
“Of course not. In any case, she didn’t meet the others till we came here.”
“But you told her about them?”
“Well, yes. Vincent and Raymond, not Frank and Ben.”
“Then she could have described Vincent and Raymond to her sister. Even if Sam Dalrymple actually was the mysterious Jamaican who avoided arrest in Florida, we have no idea when or whether he returned to Jamaica. The sister could have told him what she knew, and he came straight here and is, as you suggested, ‘lurking hereabouts.’ It wouldn’t be so very hard to have a word with Martha in secret, if he was determined. I’ve seen her strolling alone in the gardens.”
“Darling, I don’t believe it. I’m supposed to be the one who indulges in wild speculation! You’re the copper who has to have facts.”
“Touché! Really, the question is, what are we suspecting them of? Yes, Vincent could have been killed by the branch, but it probably just fell off a tree, given Edgar’s lack of interest in keeping up his woodland. In any case, it was just as likely merely to injure him.”