Assassins at Ospreys

25

Le Malade Imaginaire

Ralph Renshawe squeezed her hand. ‘Listen. I’ve worked it all out. It is my nephew who was behind it. Father Lillie-Lysander was Robin’s agent. He was a friend of his, apparently. They were at school together. Saunders told me about it. It slipped out – he didn’t intend to tell me, but he got muddled. The old fool.’

‘You didn’t know they were friends?’

‘I had no idea. Of course not. I am very cross with Saunders for not finding a priest himself. I commissioned him – and he left it all to Robin. To Robin! I am sure the priest was acting on orders from Robin. They were planning to share my fortune. I am sure it was all Robin’s idea. Money, my dear, is the root of all evil.’

‘Money’s horrid. I entirely agree,’ Beatrice breathed. ‘Yes.’

‘I’d have shown Father Lillie-Lysander the door right away,’ Ralph Renshawe went on. ‘I’d have banned this perfidious priest from coming anywhere near the house. To think that I’d been confessing to the Devil! Oh Bee, I will never forget those eyes above me – getting closer – cold, inhuman, the eyes of a beast! There was a smile on his lips – he looked as though he was enjoying himself.’

‘You must tell the police about it, Ralph. Honestly. You must tell them about the connection between your nephew and the priest.’

‘No – for my late sister-in-law’s sake, I won’t. My sister-in-law was a saint.’ Ralph Renshawe picked up the fan. ‘But Saunders will probably tell them. Saunders is scared, shaking in his boots. Well, I intend to sack Saunders. I feel hot, Bee. This seems to be a good sign. I was always cold before.’ He had started fanning himself. ‘Do I look terribly eccentric?’

Bee giggled. ‘You do, rather.’

He pressed her hand again. ‘I hope to see more of you in future, my dear. You will come again, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Won’t your husband mind?’

‘He doesn’t need to know.’

‘Wicked girl,’ he said. ‘Would you give me a kiss, or am I too repugnant?’

‘No, of course not, my sweet. Here.’ She bent over and kissed his forehead. ‘When you do feel better, Ralph, we can go to Baudolino’s, for a symbolic drink – to exorcize the past,’ she whispered. ‘Or would that be in poor taste?’ The door opened and Antonia and Major Payne appeared.

‘Who are these people?’ Ralph Renshawe asked.

‘Dear friends of mine. Hugh and Antonia Payne. They brought me here.’

‘Sorry for barging in like that. I was wondering whether I might have a word with Mr Renshawe,’ Major Payne was at his most clipped.

Ralph Renshawe had dropped the fan and slumped down between the pillows. ‘With me? What about?’

Antonia stared at the lipstick mark on his forehead. Can’t be dying, she thought.

Payne cleared his throat. ‘The police will be here any moment -’

‘They’ve already been here, ‘ Ralph Renshawe said. ‘The police don’t scare me. They are looking for Father Lillie-Lysander. Well, I can’t help them. I know nothing about his whereabouts. Nothing at all.’

‘He’s turned up, actually.’ Major Payne paused. ‘In a short while Father Lillie-Lysander will be in the capable hands of the scene-of-crime fellows.’

Beatrice gave a little gasp. ‘What do you mean, Hugh?’

‘I should have said his body. He is dead. He’s been murdered.’

Ralph Renshawe’s pale tongue flicked across the lips. ‘You found his body? Where?’

‘In the garden.’ Payne waved towards the windows. ‘The priest’s in the hole. I mean the well.’

‘In the wishing well!’ Beatrice clutched at her throat.

‘That is where the body was dropped. Somebody clearly wished him dead.’ Payne paused but Ralph Renshawe said nothing. ‘Father Lillie-Lysander was stabbed with one of Nurse Wilkes’ knitting needles. It was on your bedside table, wasn’t it, Renshawe?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘I think you do. The needle pierced the priest’s jugular. There was blood. Father Lillie-Lysander bled over your bed. You made Nurse Wilkes clean it up. You paid her handsomely to keep her mouth shut. It happened on the morning of the 26th. Two days ago. Your solicitor was coming at eleven o’clock. Father Lillie-Lysander died at least half an hour before that – the question is why? Why did he have to die?’

Ralph Renshawe looked at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘I have a theory. The padre was about to bump you off – no, not with the knitting needle – by some other ingenious means.’ Payne frowned thoughtfully at the pillows at the foot of the bed. ‘However, the murderous attempt was foiled.’ Payne raised his eyebrows at Beatrice who had stifled a cry. ‘I do believe someone popped in through the french windows and rescued you.’

‘You sound like one of those vacuous army majors.’

‘I am a major, but I am far from vacuous.’

‘Bee, my dear, would you tell your friends to go away? I am afraid I am awfully tired.’ Ralph Renshawe shut his eyes.

‘It had something to do with your will, hadn’t it?’

‘I know nothing about it, Hugh,’ Beatrice whispered. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘I didn’t mean you -’

Ralph Renshawe murmured, ‘Why should I tell you anything?’

The sound of a siren came from outside.

‘The police,’ said Antonia.

Beatrice had kept her hand at her throat. She was tugging at her pearls as though they were choking her. And then it suddenly came to Antonia, what it was she had seen at Millbrook that was of importance.

Of course. It was the Polaroid photograph of Ingrid dressed up as Beatrice. The photograph held the clue.

That ridiculous necklace with the Taj Mahals – Ingrid was wearing it in the photo – the photo had been taken on the morning of the 26th – two days ago. That was when Ingrid had disappeared. Well, Ingrid hadn’t been found yet – but when Antonia and Hugh arrived at Millbrook House earlier in the afternoon, the necklace – the unique Taj Mahal necklace – had been adorning Bee’s neck…

That, Antonia reflected, could mean only one thing.

‘I haven’t the foggiest what happened. I must have fallen asleep. I could hear the clacking of his rosary beads. It was a hypnotic kind of sound. Then – nothing. Total oblivion,’ Ralph Renshawe told Inspector Hopper. His head lay on the pillow and he spoke in a halting, breathless voice, quite different from the voice in which he had spoken to Beatrice Ardleigh earlier on.

‘Please try to remember. It is extremely important.’

‘I had a rather frightening sort of dream. A nightmare, you may say. I often have nightmares. Only moments ago I imagined I heard the Grim Reaper sharpening his scythe. I am a very ill man.’ Renshawe’s eyes were half-closed, but he was watching his interlocutor covertly. ‘When I woke up, I saw I was covered in blood. I smelled it first. A metal-lic kind of smell, slightly fishy. At first I thought I was still dreaming – that it was part of the nightmare, but then I touched it and realized the blood was real.’

‘And Father Lillie-Lysander?’

‘Gone. Vanished. He wasn’t in the room any longer. His rosary was on my bedside table.’

Inspector Hopper leant forward. ‘Father Lillie-Lysander’s car was found in your garage, Mr Renshawe. We believe he died in this room. Your sheets were covered in his blood. We found bloodstains on the terrace outside and on the garden path. Father Lillie-Lysander’s body was dragged out of here through the french windows, down the terrace steps, across the garden and pushed into the well.’

The old man cackled. ‘You don’t think it was me who did the dragging? I mean – look at me.’

‘I never for a moment thought it was you. Somebody else dragged him out.’ Inspector Hopper took out the card Major Payne had given him. ‘Robin Renshawe. That’s your nephew, isn’t it? Was it your nephew who helped you?’

‘Robin wouldn’t try to help me. Quite the reverse.’ Ralph Renshawe shut his eyes. ‘You keep getting things wrong. Please, go away.’

‘Was it your nurse? The woman who left your employ so hurriedly – Nurse Wilkes?’ No answer came. ‘Who helped you?’ Hopper persisted. ‘Whoever it was, you must have seen him.’

There was a pause. Ralph Renshawe’s eyes remained shut but he started speaking deliriously. ‘Who helped me? You want to know who helped me? I do know who helped me. Oh yes. It’s all coming back to me. I’d never seen my saviour before, but you see, I recognized my saviour at once.’

The inspector leant forward, pen poised over notebook. ‘Who was it? Would you describe him, sir?’

‘Him? Oh no, it wasn’t a man.’

‘A woman? Who was she?’

‘What a literal mind you have.’ Ralph Renshawe sighed. ‘They have no gender.’

Hopper blinked. ‘No -?’

‘I thought you knew. Don’t you read your Bible?’

‘What’s the Bible got to do with it?’ Hopper frowned. Was Ralph Renshawe really off his rocker or was he playing games with him?

‘It’s all in the Bible,’ Ralph Renshawe said. ‘You want to know who my saviour was? It was an angel, inspector -’ ‘An angel!’

Ralph Renshawe drew back a little, a pained expression on his face. ‘Be kind enough to moderate your voice, inspector. Yes, an angel – but not a common or garden one. Oh no. It was my guardian angel. My guardian angel came to me in my hour of need.’

‘What need?’

‘Sorry – didn’t I say? Do forgive me. I keep falling prey to fugues and fancies. The monstrous monsignor attempted to murder me.’

‘Father Lillie-Lysander tried to kill you?’

‘Is that a better way of saying it?’ Ralph Renshawe frowned in a puzzled manner. ‘Well, I prayed for help and my prayer was answered. I was helped in my hour of need, inspector, exactly as the Bible promises. You want me to describe my guardian angel? Smooth-faced, seemingly delicate but in fact exceptionally strong, with golden hair and golden crown and golden wings, bran-dishing a sword, exuding goodness and mercy, but also breathing fire -’