CHAPTER 14
FOUNDATION CRACKS
“Sebastian had been asking questions about a structural report Nell claimed did not exist.”
Mavis Orme said it quietly.
That made it worse.
Romy looked from Mavis to the whiteboard timeline covering the wall behind her.
The Blue Study had already given them concealed facts.
A blocked transfer grille.
Charcoal burned inside an antique plate-warmer.
A false provenance attached to a silk panel.
Now Asterleigh itself had produced another.
A report.
A possible structural problem.
A sale depending on the house looking safe, polished, and uncomplicated.
Leo sat opposite Mavis with his tea untouched.
“When did Sebastian ask Nell?”
“Thursday afternoon.”
“The day before the preview?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Estate office.”
“Were you there the whole time?”
Mavis shook her head.
“I went in for an updated volunteer list. Sebastian was already talking to Nell.”
“What exactly did you hear?” Romy asked.
“He asked whether she intended to tell the purchaser about movement in the old rear wing before contracts advanced.”
Leo looked at Romy.
Romy kept her attention on Mavis.
“And Nell?”
“She said he had misunderstood.”
“Did she deny movement?”
“She denied there was any structural report.”
“Exact words?”
Mavis frowned.
“Something like, ‘There is no report of the kind you’re describing.’”
A lawyer’s sentence.
Or a frightened owner’s.
Romy had learned not to decide too early.
“What did Sebastian say?”
“That he had seen enough to know somebody had inspected it.”
“Enough what?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Photograph?”
“I don’t know.”
“Email?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he threaten her?”
Mavis hesitated.
“Yes.”
Romy sat straighter.
“How?”
“He said if the Show House was presenting Asterleigh as restored and ready for another life, anything affecting that claim was relevant to his coverage.”
Leo said, “Meaning he would publish it.”
“That was how Nell took it.”
“Did Sebastian say he would?”
“Not directly.”
Romy knew the pattern now.
Sebastian rarely needed to say the ugliest part.
He let people supply it themselves.
Mavis set down her tea.
“I should go.”
“You should speak to Ellis.”
“I called him before I came here.”
Good.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“And?”
“He wants me at the station at eleven.”
Romy nodded.
“Then don’t discuss this with anyone else.”
Mavis gave her a dry look.
“I am not one of your assistants.”
Leo looked down quickly.
“No,” Romy said. “You are considerably harder to manage.”
Mavis almost smiled.
For three minutes, they discussed nothing more serious than Pattern House’s kettle. Mavis believed any kettle that clicked twice before boiling was “on moral probation.” Leo defended it.
Romy let them.
The case turned every room into a pressure vessel if nobody broke the rhythm.
Then Mavis left.
The office door shut behind her.
Leo stood.
“Nell lied.”
“Possibly.”
“She told you Sebastian never asked her about anything structural.”
“Yes.”
“But Mavis heard him.”
“Yes.”
“So she lied.”
Romy looked at him.
“You’re allowed to say it.”
“Then yes. Nell lied.”
Leo turned toward the timeline.
“Could Nell have prepared the Blue Study?”
Romy crossed to the whiteboard.
“Start with access.”
“Six thirty-one, your final photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Celeste enters at six forty-four.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian at six forty-eight.”
“Service corridor.”
“Marcus at six fifty-two.”
“With warmer and felt.”
“Sebastian expects Fenn at six fifty-five.”
“And enters around six fifty-seven.”
Leo tapped the board.
“Where is Nell?”
“That is what we find out.”
At nine fifteen, Ellis called.
“You heard from Mavis.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“No.”
“She told you first?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because Nell is coming in voluntarily.”
“When?”
“Ten.”
“Can I attend?”
“No.”
“Can I be nearby?”
“That sounds worse.”
“I know Asterleigh’s conservation records.”
“This is not a conservation interview.”
“It concerns the building.”
“Romy.”
She waited.
Ellis sighed.
“Nell agreed to meet at Asterleigh because we need access to the estate office and structural files.”
“Excellent.”
“That was not permission.”
“See you there.”
She ended the call before he could refuse again.
Leo stared.
“He sounded happy.”
“He hides it well.”
Asterleigh looked less like a murder scene each day and more like a building trying to remember what it had been before everyone arrived.
Most police tape had gone from the public rooms.
The Blue Study remained controlled.
So did the service corridor.
Elsewhere, the house had settled into a strange pause.
No visitors.
No designers.
No photographers.
Furniture waiting for permission to move.
Flowers finally removed.
Dust beginning to collect where polish had once been frantic.
Nell stood in the estate office with Ellis when Romy entered.
She looked furious.
Not frightened.
Not at first.
“Why is she here?”
“Because I failed to prevent it,” Ellis said.
Romy shut the door.
Nell looked at her.
“Mavis spoke to you.”
“Yes.”
“She had no right.”
“She had a memory.”
“That is not the same thing as understanding.”
“Then help.”
Nell folded her arms.
Ellis placed a document envelope on the desk.
“We searched the estate office this morning.”
Nell’s expression changed.
Small.
Enough.
“You had permission.”
“Yes.”
“We found no structural report.”
“Because there isn’t one.”
Ellis watched her.
Then said, “We also checked the office access log.”
No movement now.
“You entered this room at 8:14 the morning after Sebastian died.”
“This is my house.”
“You remained nine minutes.”
“Yes.”
“You left carrying a document wallet.”
Silence.
Romy felt the case shift.
“Where is it?” Ellis asked.
Nell looked toward the window.
“Nell,” Romy said.
“Do not.”
“Where is the report?”
“I said do not.”
Ellis remained calm.
“You are not under arrest. You are, however, concealing evidence relevant to a homicide investigation if that document relates to Sebastian’s actions or motive.”
Nell closed her eyes.
For one second she looked not like an owner, committee figure, debtor, or possible suspect.
She looked tired.
Then she opened them.
“It is at my cottage.”
“Why?”
“Because I panicked.”
The word had become common around Asterleigh.
Adrian panicked and lied about the corridor.
Sophie panicked and lied about Sebastian.
Now Nell.
Fear produced remarkably consistent stupidity.
“What is in the report?” Ellis asked.
Nell sat.
Finally she said, “Movement.”
“What kind?”
“Rear wing.”
“Structural?”
“Potentially.”
“Severity?”
Nell looked at Romy.
“Expensive.”
Not an engineering term.
Possibly the more important one.
“Start from the beginning,” Ellis said.
“Last winter, cracking appeared around the old rear service wing. Near the junction with the main house.”
“Visible?”
“Not publicly.”
“To whom?”
“Daniel noticed first.”
Romy said, “During restoration?”
“After the main works.”
“So after the house had already consumed most of the budget.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Commissioned an engineer.”
“Name?”
“Paul Mercer.”
Ellis wrote it down.
“When?”
“January.”
“And his conclusion?”
“Possible historic drain failure had caused local movement. Some may have stabilized. Some had not.”
“Repair estimate?”
“Not final.”
“How large?”
“Enough to make the sale difficult.”
A buyer considering a restored Georgian rectory expected expensive upkeep.
They did not expect an undisclosed structural problem waiting behind the sales brochure.
“Why wasn’t it repaired?” Romy asked.
“Money.”
Simple.
Nell’s expression hardened, perhaps because saying it plainly removed the last polite cover.
“We had already borrowed against the property to complete urgent works. The Show House fees and sponsorships were meant to recover part of that.”
“And the sale?”
“Would clear the remainder.”
“Prospective buyer?”
“Charles Denton.”
“Did he know about the engineer?”
“No.”
“Did your solicitor?”
Nell said nothing.
Ellis noticed.
“Did your solicitor?”
“Yes.”
“Did they advise disclosure?”
“We had not reached formal disclosure stage.”
Vivian would have enjoyed the distinction.
Romy did not.
“What did Sebastian know?”
“I don’t know how he found out.”
“But he did.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say Thursday?”
“Mavis already told you.”
“I want your version.”
“He asked whether I planned to tell Denton that Asterleigh was moving.”
“Those words?”
“Close.”
“And you said there was no report.”
“Yes.”
“So you lied.”
Nell’s face tightened.
“I said there was no report of the kind he described.”
“That is still a lie.”
“I did not know what he had.”
Romy thought of Sebastian’s method.
Partial proof.
Publication implied.
People forced to reveal the missing pieces themselves.
“What did he threaten?” Ellis asked.
“He said his Show House piece might need a paragraph on the difference between restoration and concealment.”
Romy winced.
Sebastian could cut with titles before writing them.
“Did he mention the sale?”
“Yes.”
“Denton?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He asked whether Denton enjoyed surprises.”
Nell continued.
“If that article had run before the sale advanced, Denton could have walked.”
“Could he still?”
“Yes.”
“What happens then?”
“You already know about the loans.”
“Not the scale.”
“I’m not discussing that.”
“You may need to,” Ellis said.
Nell gave a figure.
Romy sat very still.
The debt was worse than she had guessed.
Not ruin in one morning.
Close enough to make murder motive plausible.
Nell understood the silence.
“I did not kill him.”
“Where were you between six thirty and seven ten?” Ellis asked.
Nell almost laughed.
“You have the guest photographs.”
“Answer.”
“I was downstairs until approximately six fifty. At six fifty-five I went to the front entrance because Charles Denton arrived.”
“The prospective buyer.”
“Yes.”
“He attended the preview?”
“Privately.”
Romy frowned.
“I don’t remember him on the guest list.”
“He was not on the public guest list.”
“Why?”
“He wanted discretion.”
“Who saw you?”
“Daniel. Mavis. Two door volunteers. Charles. His wife. One of the sponsorship team.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Until after seven twenty.”
“Continuously?”
“Yes.”
Ellis already knew.
Romy saw it.
He showed her a sequence of images.
6:55:41.
Nell at the entrance, extending both hands toward a man in a dark suit.
6:58.