Christmas in Nuala Page 4

  A slice of moonlight came through the window that Rushwell had, apparently, escaped by on the night of the murder. Jane went to open it and looked out. ‘It’s beautiful here when one sees it like this. But I don’t think I could live anywhere so isolated.’

  De Silva came to join her. ‘I don’t think I could either.’ He studied the size of the window opening. ‘The window overlooking the drive would give more room, but a man could probably climb through this one. It’s a long way to the ground though. I wonder how Robert Rushwell got down.’

  ‘He might have used this creeper.’ She grasped a handful of the creeper that grew up the wall and gave it a tug. ‘But it doesn’t seem very steady.’

  ‘Shall we have a look upstairs? Clarence’s bedroom should be up there.’

  It was very gloomy on the stairs. This time there was no kerosene lamp to light the way. Gripping the handrail, he climbed a little way then froze. Something damp and soft brushed his hand. With a shout, he recoiled, almost knocking over Jane who was behind him with the torch.

  ‘Shanti! Whatever’s the matter?’ She flashed the torch beam up the stairs then laughed. ‘It’s only cobwebs, dear.’

  A large, hairy spider scuttled away into a crevice in the wall. Grimly, de Silva watched it go. ‘Anyone can make a mistake.’

  The bedroom on the top floor was bleak with no furniture except a bed and a wooden wardrobe. The clothes inside were shabby and smelled of mothballs. If Clarence Rushwell was as wealthy as he was reputed to be, what a shame he seemed not to have enjoyed his money a little more.

  They left the bedroom and went down to the garden. Under the window Rushwell had jumped from, the torch beam illuminated a large patch of weedy plants that straggled away from the base of the wall. ‘No sign of damage. He must have managed to jump clear.’

  He frowned. ‘I still can’t put my finger on it, but I can’t help feeling that the facts don’t add up. If Rushwell landed relatively unhurt, as it seems he must have done if he was able to drive his car away, what caused the lump on his head? It’s in an unlikely position for it to have happened when he crashed his car. And why did he leave his cousin alive but kill his uncle?’

  ‘I agree it does seem odd, but then head wounds can bleed and swell badly, even if they’re relatively minor. As for why he left the count alive, perhaps he was too afraid he’d be caught to think straight.’

  ‘From what I know of him, he’s a phlegmatic sort of chap. I wouldn’t have thought he was the type to panic. And why would he want his uncle dead? Or his cousin? It’s a pity the countess doesn’t know what they were arguing about, and the count’s answer wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t the time to press him, but I need to ask him what he meant when he said that he found out all the friendship was on his side.’

  Jane touched his arm and put her finger to her lips. ‘Did you hear that?’ she whispered. ‘Over there in the bushes – something moved.’

  De Silva listened. She was right, and the something was too large to be a bird or a small animal. A shiver went through him. Dangerous creatures might be on the prowl in this lonely place. He put Jane behind him and eased his Webley revolver from its holster. The cold metal felt reassuring in his grasp.

  ‘Do you think we should go back inside?’ Jane whispered.

  ‘Perhaps; just move slowly.’

  His heartbeat quickened as they edged back towards the gatehouse. Suddenly, a bush swayed. A shadowy figure darted out and started to run fast in the direction of the drive.

  ‘I’m going after them,’ he said quickly. ‘You get back inside where you’ll be safe.’

  Jane waited until he had gone a little way then followed.

  Who could it be, de Silva wondered as he ran. His heart thumped, and he felt annoyed with himself. In his younger days, he would easily have caught up by now. He forced himself to go faster. The gap closed as they neared Rushwell’s bungalow. It was still in darkness.

  The figure disappeared behind the bungalow. He turned the corner and saw it was a woman. She was headed for a car that was parked behind the building. She flung open the driver’s door and scrambled in. He heard the engine start, and with a desperate burst of speed, lunged to grab her by the wrist. She tried to wrench free and slam the door, but he held on. Then he saw her face. It was Anna Phelps.

  Chapter 7

  De Silva and Jane watched Anna Phelps as she sipped the hot tea one of their servants had brought in. With her light-brown, curly hair, round spectacles, and plain dress, she looked younger than her years.

  One glance at the state of the kitchen in Robert Rushwell’s bungalow, and Jane had insisted they take her back to Sunnybank. Jane had accompanied her in Anna’s car, declining to answer Anna’s questions as to what was going on. She seemed a little calmer than when they’d found her, but de Silva saw that tears were not far away. When she put down her cup, her hand was trembling, and she knocked the teaspoon off the saucer. He was concerned that she had tried to run away from the scene of a crime, but he didn’t want to be too hard on her; he would be very surprised if she was involved in Clarence’s murder. All the same, he needed to know why she had been at the plantation.

  ‘I came to see Robert,’ she said shakily. ‘We were supposed to be meeting at the club this afternoon for tea, and he didn’t come. It isn’t like him to let me down.’

  ‘Did he talk to you about his cousin?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘What did he say about him?’

  ‘Robert didn’t know the count and his wife until they came here. We were rather surprised at first that they’d travelled all this way to visit relations they’d never met, but the count said that it was one of his mother’s last wishes that he should visit her brother, Clarence. Yet, I had the impression from Robert that he wasn’t convinced that the Arcantis’ motives were entirely honourable.’

  ‘Did Count Arcanti give a particular reason for his mother encouraging the visit?’

  ‘Well, Clarence can be very difficult, particularly as his health has worsened over the last few months. He often was mean and ungrateful with Robert, and I imagine he could have been the same with his sister. According to the count, his mother was nevertheless very sorry she and her brother had grown apart; she wanted the family to be reconciled, and she’d grown too old to make the journey herself.’

  She frowned. ‘Inspector, why were you and Mrs de Silva at the house? Is something the matter? Robert’s not come to any harm, has he?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have bad news for you,’ said de Silva. He spoke with careful deliberation. ‘Clarence Rushwell has been murdered. Your husband’s cousin, Count Arcanti, was wounded in the same incident, and Robert is missing.’

  Anxiety turned to dismay on Anna Phelps’s face. ‘You can’t possibly believe this has anything to do with Robert! Why, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He never even talked back to his uncle, whatever the provocation. Despite everything, he put his heart into keeping the plantation going. And he had no grudge against his cousin even if he didn’t entirely trust him.’

  ‘Miss Phelps, I’m afraid we have testimony to the contrary. Countess Arcanti claims that her husband and Robert had a violent argument in the early hours of this morning after the party at the Residence. There was a fight. The countess came to me for help, and I returned to the house with her. I saw Robert in the doorway to the study threatening his cousin with a gun, but before I could intervene, he shut the door in my face and bolted it. Two shots followed. When I finally gained entry to the room, Clarence Rushwell was dead, and the count wounded. There was no sign of Robert.’

  Tears brimmed in Anna Phelps’ eyes and spilled down her cheeks. ‘I don’t believe it. It must be a terrible mistake. The countess probably imagined what she saw. Robert says she’s prone to being excitable.’

  De Silva looked at her pityingly. ‘I’m very sorry, Miss Phelps, but I was there.’

  A stubborn look came over her face. ‘It’s a mistake, I tell you. Robert wouldn’t hurt anyone. Let me h
elp you find him. He’ll talk to me, and I know he’ll be able to explain everything.’

  She stopped and looked at de Silva closely. ‘Are you sure you don’t know where he is?’

  She was no fool this one. De Silva kept an impassive expression on his face. He didn’t want her becoming too involved.

  ‘Miss Phelps, I can’t tell you anything at this stage.’

  ‘So, you do know where he is! I insist you tell me.’ She glowered at him.

  ’We understand your feelings, my dear,’ Jane said gently. ‘But if Robert is innocent, he has nothing to fear. Now, I think you should go home. My husband will drive you.’

  There was a long pause then Anna Phelps shook her head. ‘I can drive myself. Just promise me that when you find him, Robert will have a fair hearing. I know he’s innocent.’

  ***

  ‘I’m glad you were here,’ said de Silva when he returned from taking Anna Phelps back to her car. ‘I don’t think I would have managed as well without you.’

  ‘Poor girl, the news must have been such a shock. I think you were wise not to tell her where he is. The sight of him would only have distressed her more.’

  De Silva glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece. ‘It’s far too late to go back to the lake now. I’ll go in the morning. Let’s hope Robert Rushwell has regained consciousness by then. I want to hear his side of the story.’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s not likely to be a Christmas engagement for Anna now; or one at all,’ said Jane sadly.

  ‘Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. Even if she believes he’s innocent, things don’t look good for Robert Rushwell.’

  Chapter 8

  He set off the next morning for the lake. Once again, the last part of the journey was arduous. Mosquitos buzzed into his face and the dry air parched his throat. He was almost within sight of the water when he heard a squeaking sound like a badly oiled gate. Coming from the other direction was Constable Nadar, wheeling his bicycle over the rough ground. He was fanning his face with his cap, but when he spotted de Silva, he quickly slapped it back on his head.

  In the circumstances, de Silva refrained from telling him off for removing the cap on duty. ‘Good morning, Constable. Were you coming to find me?’

  ‘Yes, sir; Mr Rushwell is awake now. He’s still very weak, but Sergeant Prasanna and I thought you would want to talk to him.’

  ‘Well done, Constable – lead on.’

  ***

  In the stuffy little hut, de Silva listened carefully to Robert Rushwell’s story. Should he believe the man? He decided to have Rushwell go over it again.

  ‘You say you don’t remember anything from the time you went to fetch the car keys for your cousin until you found yourself in the reeds. Mr Rushwell, forgive me, but I think any reasonable person would find it hard to credit that you succeeded in freeing yourself from such a dangerous predicament.’

  ‘I remember a violent impact of some kind that revived me. It was dark, but I realised I was trapped in my car. I could feel water around my feet. I managed to force the door open and get out. Immediately, I sank into mud beneath the reeds. It was only the thought of what would happen to me if I stopped trying to free myself that kept me going. I may only have been minutes struggling through that reed bed, but it felt like hours before there was solid ground under my feet. Then I must have passed out again.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the events immediately after you left the party at the Residence.’

  Rushwell tried to raise his head from the mattress but fell back. His face twisted in a grimace of pain. ‘I’ve told you, Inspector,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘I’d like you to tell me again.’

  ‘I drove home with my cousin and his wife, dropped them at the house and went back to my bungalow intending to listen to some music on the gramophone before going to bed. I’d given the servants the night off; I was alone. It had been a lovely party, and I didn’t yet feel sleepy. I was thinking about Anna and our future together. I had a glass of whisky and that probably caused me to start to feel drowsy. I was about to get undressed when I heard someone knocking on the door. I didn’t look to see what time it was. I can only tell you that it was still dark. With poor Uncle Clarence’s worsening state of health, I’d been expecting a crisis for some time. I was anxious to answer the door and find out what had happened.’

  The crease between his eyebrows deepened. ‘I’d like some water.’

  De Silva nodded to Prasanna. ‘Try and find some that’s safe to drink.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘My cousin, Cosmo, was at the door,’ Rushwell went on. ‘He was very agitated. I had to ask him to speak more slowly, so I could understand what he was saying. When he’d calmed down, he told me I was needed urgently at the main house. Uncle Clarence was in a very bad way and asking for me. I’d driven us to the party because Cosmo had been having some trouble with his car and didn’t want to risk taking it out until the garage had a chance to look at it. He asked if he could take mine to go for Doctor Hebden. Of course, I said yes, and turned away to go and find the keys for him. After that, the next thing I remember is regaining consciousness at the lake – as I told you.’

  Prasanna reappeared with a small bowl of water. Gratefully, Rushwell gulped it down.

  ‘Do you recall the villagers finding you on the beach?’

  ‘Dimly. I knew I was being carried somewhere.’

  ‘Who do you think knocked you out?’

  ‘My cousin, Count Arcanti. Who else could it be?’

  Chapter 9

  Jane shuddered. ‘What a horrible thought. He might easily have drowned.’

  ‘Lucky he keeps fit and could extricate himself. A lot of people wouldn’t have been able to.’

  ‘What about this business of not being able to remember how he got to the lake? Do you think it’s true he’s suffered a loss of memory?’

  ‘It’s possible. After all, he was within a whisker of drowning, and the effects of that blow to the head may have been severe. That might blot out the events of the previous few hours.’

  ‘Do you think Cosmo bludgeoned him?’

  ‘It’s a reasonable supposition, and he certainly believes it was Cosmo.’

  Jane frowned. ‘Then if Robert Rushwell was already unconscious, who was the man you saw in Clarence Rushwell’s study?’

  ‘Either Robert’s lying, or we’re missing something,’ said de Silva. ‘Something that’s staring us straight in the face. I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow and see how the count’s getting on. Perhaps that will provide some inspiration. In the meantime, it’s in the best interests of the investigation that Robert stays where he is, out of sight and looked after by Prasanna and Nadar. I’d better get another message to their families.’

  ***

  ‘Inspector, have you found my cousin yet?’

  Count Arcanti’s head rested against a soft heap of pillows. The sunshine streaming through the window of the hospital room showed there was more colour in his cheeks than there’d been when de Silva last saw him.

  De Silva had decided not to reveal yet that he knew where Robert Rushwell was. ‘We’re still working on the case, sir. I’m glad to see you looking better.’

  Sitting in the chair beside the bed, the countess fixed de Silva with her dark eyes. ‘I can’t rest until I know that monster has been caught.’

  Arcanti reached for his wife’s hand. ‘Julia, my love, I’m perfectly safe here. You mustn’t upset yourself.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘How can I help it? He might have killed you, as he killed your poor uncle.’

  ‘As the countess rightly pointed out,’ intervened de Silva, ‘our last meeting wasn’t the time for questions. But I’d be grateful if you’d answer some for me now, sir.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why did your cousin shoot your uncle?’

  ‘He was angry. He and my uncle had argued about the plantation that day. I’m afraid the old man was very stubborn. Robert was obviously
becoming increasingly frustrated by the difficulties our uncle put in his way. I thought it had blown over. Robert seemed to behave himself at the party that evening. So, after we came back from the Residence, I’d hoped he would go quietly to bed, but he must have hit the bottle instead and got it into his head that I was working against him too. Lonely people can do strange things’

  ‘In what way were you meant to be working against him?’

  ‘He accused me of trying to persuade our uncle to change his Will in my favour. It was nonsense, of course, and anyway, I’m sure Uncle Clarence wouldn’t have gone through with it, even if I had tried to influence him. Under all the bluster, he knew he’d never manage without Robert.’

  ‘Had you heard your uncle threaten to change his Will?’

  ‘Yes, the old curmudgeon seemed to relish playing us one off against the other, but I’d told Robert not to take any notice.’

  ‘Were you to benefit if the Will were to change?’

  Arcanti flushed. ‘A blunt question, Inspector. My uncle hinted at it, but I have no need of the money and know nothing about growing rubber. I made it clear to Robert that I wouldn’t accept.’

  ‘The countess saw you and your cousin fighting in the courtyard before she left to call for my help. What happened in the end?’

  ‘Robert got the upper hand and knocked me to the ground. After that, he stormed off. My first thought was for Julia. I wanted to reassure her I was safe, but when I went inside, to my dismay, she wasn’t there. Then I noticed that the car had gone too. I was doubly anxious, for although she’s occasionally driven some of our cars to amuse herself, it’s only been away from public roads and with me beside her in case she gets into difficulty.’

  He smiled at his wife and took her hand. ‘I know you wanted to help, my love, and it was very good of you, but you must learn properly before you do such a thing again.’