Heirs of the Body(94)

“Was it because … Derek said it was because of the ‘heirs of the body’ thing. Was Uncle Raymond an heir of the body?”

“Sort of. Not quite. Uncle Tommy Pearson is trying to find out about that.”

“And Ben is one, too. Derek says we must never leave him alone, because of the butterfly net. They took Nana to the turret to be their watchdog.”

“What a good idea.”

“Ben was scared, so I said he’s probably not really in danger, because the net was at the bottom of the stairs, remember? But Derek says we can’t be too careful.”

Belinda was probably right, Ben wasn’t really in danger—because it was beginning to look more and more as if Frank was the culprit.

“I’m glad you’re keeping him safe. Did you wash your face and brush your teeth? Hop into bed now. What are you reading?”

“The Railway Children. I’ve read it before, but I like it. It has a happy ending. Black Beauty is too sad.”

“It’s a good story.” She kissed Bel. “Nighty-night, sleep tight, darling.”

She decided not to go and disturb the boys and Nana. It sounded as if Derek had everything well in hand. They could tell Alec in the morning their impressions of how long Sam and Frank had spent with them.

Time to see whether Alec had found a knife in the bushes, a useful knife that would yield information about the wielder. Unless he or Ernest had come across it very quickly, he probably hadn’t got round yet to having a crack at the reports from Worcester. Daisy went to their bedroom first, just in case he was poring over them there, but the document case was still under his underclothes. She went downstairs.

In the drawing room, she found Geraldine presiding over coffee and liqueurs. Vincent and Laurette, unsurprisingly, had gone up. Sam and Frank were there, and Edgar was showing off in a jar the Ghost Swift he had managed to capture with his handkerchief. Hepialus humuli was a pretty yellow moth. Edgar’s specimen was a female he informed them. The male was white and smaller.

“More ghostlike?” Frank suggested with a grin.

“Yes, particularly as the underside of the wings is brown, so it appears to flicker as it flies. Daisy, I should like to show the kids.”

“They’ve gone to bed. Can you keep it till morning?”

Edgar reflected. “If I put it in a larger jar, it should be all right.” He trotted off.

Sinking into a chair, Daisy accepted a cup of coffee and a Drambuie. “No sign of Alec?”

“As far as I know,” said Geraldine, somewhat austerely, “he and Ernest are still outside. Lowecroft is a trifle perturbed at the unauthorised absence of his footman.”

“Oh dear, I’d better have a word with him.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have explained to him the exigencies of the situation. For all practical purposes, Alec is in charge until further notice.”

Frank asked, “Are we allowed to talk about what’s been happening?”

“It’s a free country,” said Daisy, hoping she might hear something helpful. “Alec can’t stop you.”

“Not in my drawing room.” Geraldine was firm. Frank and Sam exchanged a glance. “For an injured man to enter in search of succour is one thing. To discuss the topic casually over coffee is another matter.”

“I daresay Alec will want to talk to each of you later,” said Daisy.

“He won’t disturb Martha,” Sam said aggressively.

“Good heavens no!”

Not tonight, at least, Daisy added mentally.

Geraldine turned the subject to the West Indies and the difference between Jamaica and Trinidad. Edgar returned and joined in. The conversation was interesting, but Daisy only gave it half her attention. She was pondering that look exchanged between the two men.

Could they possibly be conspiring? How on earth could they profit jointly?

Suppose they had worked out between them that Sam and Ben were third and fourth in line. It would have to be in that order, or nothing made sense. Frank would help Sam to get rid of Raymond and Vincent, and in return, Sam would promise to take care of—perhaps even adopt—Ben and his siblings, possibly with cash for Frank thrown in to sweeten the deal.

Alec would say it was sheer speculation, and most improbable into the bargain. She ought to tell him, all the same.

Ernest came in to see whether more coffee was needed. Apart from a portentous and incomprehensible glance in Daisy’s direction, his appearance would not have led anyone to imagine he’d been hunting through a shrubbery for a murderous knife. Apart from the look and a twig caught in his collar at the back, Daisy noted.

“Is Mr. Fletcher back indoors?” she asked him.