Chapter 18
Julia got up early to make the best of the milder part of the day, when the grass was damp with dew and the air was cool. It was going to be another steamer.
She was outside staking the rambunctious tomato plants, with Henny Penny and the girls pecking around her, when her phone rang in the pocket of the oversized shirt she wore for gardening. She wiped her hands down on the shirt and reached for the phone. The caller was Hayley Gibson.
‘Hello, Hayley, thanks for returning my—’
‘So, what’s up?’
‘It’s about Ian’s murder. I’ve had a thought.’
‘It’s a madhouse here; I’ve got to…’ Hayley broke off, and spoke to someone in the background, ‘Give me a minute. Hang on.’ She turned back to the call: ‘Sorry, Julia. You were saying?’
‘The murder weapon. Have you found it?’
‘No. Lamp’s ruled out for the colonel. And whatever was used for Ian…’ Hayley spoke in an impatient staccato, and then turned to speak to whoever was in her office: ‘No, the other file—’
‘I think I know what it was,’ said Julia.
‘You do?’ She had Hayley’s full attention now. ‘Well, spit it out.’
‘I think it was a poker, from the fireplace.’
There was a pause while Hayley processed this. ‘It’s about the right shape and heft,’ she said. ‘But then so are a lot of things. Hang on.’
Hayley put her hand over the mouthpiece and barked a few words. Although Julia couldn’t make out what she was saying, she could hear the stress and irritability in her tone.
‘Sorry, go on, Julia.’
‘I looked at Jim’s picture of the crime scene immediately after the colonel’s body was removed, and the poker is missing from the set of fire implements. I suspect the killer used it on the colonel, then hung on to it for whatever reason. And I think he used it on the gardener.’
There was a moment’s silence, and Hayley said, ‘Where’s the picture?’
‘You’ll have to ask Jim for it,’ said Julia.
Hayley sighed. ‘I’ll ask him. He’s been trying to get hold of me anyway.’
‘Ah, well, you can kill two birds with one stone,’ said Julia.
‘The killer might have ditched it after the second murder. We searched the scene, but I’ll get some chaps out there to look further afield. It might have been stashed somewhere in Greystone Manor or the garden. Maybe they even still have it – that would be handy!’
‘Here’s hoping. I just can’t get my head around what the two murders have in common. There must be something – something more than meets the eye between the two men.’
‘Is it not enough that they lived on the same property and knew each other, Detective Bird?’ asked Hayley, with a smile in her voice.
‘You know it’s not. There must be more. You don’t get murdered because you worked for someone. But you might get murdered if you share history, or a secret.’
‘I would agree with you on that,’ said Hayley, sounding more serious now. ‘There’s some backstory we’re not getting.’
‘Wouldn’t Biddy know? She’s been there a long time, and knows everyone’s history. And now I discover she’s Ian’s aunt. And she’s quite a forthcoming sort of person when you sit down with her.’
Hayley made an exasperated snort. ‘I wish. Clammed up like a…’ She paused. ‘Like a clam, I suppose. When I interviewed her, she tiptoed around, claiming a poor memory, or a lack of knowledge – “I just work here” – that type of answer, you know.’
‘That’s so unlike the Biddy I know,’ said Julia. ‘I find her quite chatty. Even confiding.’
‘I think I put her back up, I’m afraid. I can be a bit direct.’
‘Really? I had not noticed,’ said Julia with a smile.
‘Only very occasionally,’ Hayley said, dryly. ‘And it’s quite subtle.’
The two women laughed.
‘She’ll probably come round. She’s really quite friendly and forthcoming when she’s comfortable. You just need to let her warm up.’
Another irritable snort came down the line. ‘I don’t have time to be warming up the Biddys of this world. In fact, if she’s already warmed up to you, maybe you should talk to her,’ said Hayley.
‘Yeah, sure,’ Julia laughed.
‘No, seriously,’ said Hayley, sounding more enthusiastic. ‘She might open up with you. We’re only looking for background information, family gossip, old wounds. People don’t like to blab to the police, but they do seem to tell you things, for some unknown reason.’
‘Occupational hazard of being a social worker,’ said Julia. ‘Trust me, sometimes you wish you’d never invited the confidences. Some of the things I’ve heard, you wouldn’t believe.’
‘There’s precious little that I won’t believe,’ laughed Hayley.
‘Go on then, Julia. Go and chat to Biddy and see what you can find out about the relationship between Ian and the colonel. Just background. How they got on. What they have in common. Do they, you know, play golf together, or watch the Great British Bake Off or something?’
That was something Julia couldn’t imagine. The handsome young gardener and the formal colonel watching people make cakes.
‘Please do it. Just have a bit of a poke around,’ said Hayley. ‘No pun intended.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Hayley. My work there is done for now. I don’t have any reason to go back. It would be weird.’
It was true that Julia did like to poke around, but she had had rather enough of Greystone Manor and its mysteries. She wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to get back to the place where she’d seen two dead men in the space of a fortnight.
‘Go and give your condolences. Have a cup of tea. See what you can find out about Ian.’
‘I don’t know, Hayley…’
‘Poor Ian, a young chap cut down in the prime of his life. I’d hate a crime like that to go unsolved because Julia Bird didn’t feel like having a chat, for the first time in living memory,’ said Hayley, with a sad sigh.
‘All right then,’ said Julia. ‘I’ll pop in and see her later, but it’ll have to be quick. I’m going to book club this evening.’
‘Thanks, Julia, I appreciate it.’
‘And don’t forget to phone Jim!’ Julia said.
There was a young uniformed copper stomping around in the undergrowth when Julia drove into Greystone Manor. While she parked her car, he emerged from the shrubbery and came to stand by the car door. She greeted him with a nod and a hello.
‘If I could ask you not to step beyond the gravel, ma’am,’ he said. He had a nervous blink, and short black hair so thick and glossy it reminded her of an otter’s pelt. ‘There’s an investigation underway.’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, taking a step towards the house.
‘Excuse me, ma’am, but might I ask your business here today?’
‘I’m visiting the housekeeper.’
‘You’re Mrs Bird?’
‘That’s me.’
He looked pleased to be correct. It might well have been the first bit of detectiving of his career.
‘I’m Constable Luke Nailor. DI Gibson told me you were coming to help with investigations,’ he said. ‘Although I was expecting someone…’
He stopped speaking and blushed furiously when he got to the part of the sentence when he would have to describe exactly the way in which Julia had failed to meet his expectations.
‘Younger?’ she asked, helpfully.
His skin tone transitioned from pink to puce, and he blinked furiously.
‘Oh no, not that. Not that at all. I was expecting someone… Err…’ he said, casting his gaze around as if help might come from elsewhere.
Finding no such assistance, his eyes alighted on her and he said, ‘Someone not carrying tomatoes!’
‘Ah, I can quite see how that would be the case,’ said Julia, who was indeed carrying a brown paper bag, the open top of which revealed a landscape of red mounds, and a large sprig of basil, its leaves smelling like summer. ‘I’ll see myself in.’
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, followed by footsteps. The footsteps of a woman, judging by the brisk, efficient pace and the light clicking sound.
Biddy opened the door. She looked fleetingly surprised to see Julia standing on the doorstep, but covered it quickly. ‘Hello, Julia,’ she said, opening the door wide to let her in. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I just came to see how you are, and to drop off a little something.’ She held out the bag of tomatoes and basil.
Biddy took it with a display of enthusiasm. ‘Tomatoes! Gosh. How kind of you. They do smell delicious. Come in, come in. Do you have time for tea?’
‘That would be nice, thank you, if you have time,’ Julia said, following Biddy to the kitchen, where a large bowl of tomatoes sat on the table. Biddy put the bag next to them. Julia felt guilty for burdening someone else with excess tomatoes, and was about to say so when Biddy spoke.
‘I do have time for tea. I’m not really working today. Greg told me to take a few days off, but I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I’ve been unpacking, cleaning and repacking cupboards in the kitchen.’
Sure enough, a kitchen counter was piled with baking trays and cake tins and muffin pans, the cupboard above empty, doors open.
‘It’s hard to know what to do with yourself when you’ve had a shock, when you’re grieving,’ said Julia.
‘Tidying the cupboards felt like a suitable activity. It keeps me busy, keeps my mind occupied. And when that’s done, I’ll make a nice batch of tomato soup. A lovely cold gazpacho would be good in this weather. Making soup is calming, isn’t it?’
‘It is. There’s something industrious and wholesome about it. Biddy, I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s so awful about poor Ian. I realise I don’t know much about him – are his parents still alive? Your sister?’
Julia sat at the kitchen table. Biddy put on the kettle and moved efficiently about, getting all the tea necessities from shelves and cupboards while she talked.
‘No. My sister died young, sadly. We were very close, and close in age, too. Not even two years between us. People thought we were twins. Ian was fifteen when she went.’
‘How very sad for you all; I’m sorry. And that’s a hard age to lose his mum.’
‘It was. It was very hard on him, especially without a dad in the picture.’ Biddy sat down. She seemed to want to talk.
‘Did his father die young, too?’ Julia asked.
‘He didn’t know his dad. Well, he didn’t know who…
Let’s just say that his dad wasn’t involved.
I looked after Ian after his mum died. He went to boarding school for the last two years, and then got a bit lost after school.
He didn’t know what he wanted to study, and he found himself at a loose end.
He fell in with a fast crowd, glamorous and wild.
He was very handsome and the girls loved him, and he was also very easily influenced.
’ She sniffed. ‘A follower, rather than a leader. He got into a bit of trouble, but I knew it was a phase. That life wasn’t for him.
He was happiest in nature, or in the garden.
But young people can get stuck in the wrong thing, can’t they?
I thought if he could work in nature, it would take him away from the bad crowd and settle his spirit.
And I thought he’d be good at it. So I asked Marigold if they would bring him on as the assistant gardener.
She agreed to take him on, on a temporary basis, until he figured out what he wanted to do. ’
‘It was kind of her to give him a chance…’
‘It was. She was a good person. He was soon employed full-time. He worked under the old gardener, Budge, until he reluctantly retired at about a hundred years old. Good old Budge.’ She smiled at the memory.
The kettle boiled, and Biddy poured the water into the teapot.
‘It looks like it worked out all round. The garden looks magnificent,’ said Julia. ‘Was Ian happy?’
‘That he was. It calmed him. He liked being in the garden and making it beautiful. He and Marigold worked well together. And after she died, he was completely in charge.’
‘What about the colonel? Was he a keen gardener? Did Ian work with him, too?’
‘Not at all,’ said Biddy, placing the cups in their saucers, and laying the teaspoons alongside. ‘The colonel wanted the grounds to look good, but he didn’t get involved in the details of the garden or the work. He left all that to Marigold and Ian.’
‘Did he and Ian get on well?’
The direct question came across as rather too direct.
Biddy looked up from her task and frowned.
For a moment, she looked upset or perhaps cross, but the fleeting expression quickly evaporated.
She poured the tea and handed a cup to Julia, saying: ‘The colonel appreciated his work, yes. And Ian enjoyed the job.’
‘I was just wondering, having no present father of his own. Sometimes a young man bonds with an older man. A father figure.’
‘Not in this case. The colonel was no father figure. Even with Greg and Clara, let alone…’ Biddy abandoned that sentence and said firmly, ‘Ian could stand on his own two feet.’ Her tone made it clear that that topic was finished.
‘I’m sorry, Biddy, I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve been through so much loss in such a short time.’
Biddy’s face softened. ‘It’s so awful. Marigold’s death. And then two men, murdered in our own home.’
‘Biddy, was Ian a gambler, at all? Might he have borrowed money from the wrong people?’
‘Ian? Goodness, no. I hear the colonel got into trouble with that over the years, but not Ian. I’m sure of it.
’ Tears welled in Biddy’s eyes, and she spoke in a shaky voice: ‘I don’t know why anyone would kill Ian.
He was a lovely boy. A lovely man. He didn’t have an easy start, but he was a good man.
He was kind to everyone, and heavens but the women loved him… ’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve lost someone precious, your dear sister’s son… I’m so sorry, Biddy.’
Biddy took a deep breath and spoke more steadily: ‘Family. It’s so complicated. So many layers. So many secrets. I wish it could have been different for us, for Ian especially. But he made his choice… Anyway, it’s too late now… You can’t change the past.’