GUS’S VISIT TO join Ivy and Deirdre had, as expected by Ivy, been extremely useful. “We have to be even more devious than Beattie,” he said. “Out-think the old dragon. Now, lets make a plan.”
They had put their heads together over fresh coffee and another supply of cookies, and were pleased with the result. Gus had wanted to know if they had heard of any regular trips into town made by Beattie. Didn’t she go to market every week? And did she take the morning or afternoon bus? Did Theo ever go out on his own? If so, where, and how did he manage? Did he visit any local friends or tenants? That Rose Budd was an attractive woman. Deirdre had blushed. “Really, Ivy!” she had said. “I’m surprised at you. She is a married woman.”
“Be your age, and don’t be so ridiculous, Deirdre!”
Gus had decided to change the subject. “Now,” he’d said, “the best source of answers to my questions would probably be Will at the shop. I can call on my way back.”
Now he sat in the window seat of the pub, thinking over what Will had said, and making notes.
Beattie went to market every Saturday afternoon without fail. She arranged for the wife of their one remaining farmworker to sit with Theo, who, since this was the bubbly blond Rose Budd, never complained. It was said in the pub that Rose played croquet on the lawn with him in the summer, and Scrabble in the drawing room in the winter. Other humorous suggestions were made, but not taken seriously. Remembering what Ivy had said, Gus took them seriously.
This was really good news, Gus thought, chewing the end of his pen. Now, what else? Theo had few friends, apparently. Old chums had tried, but met a stone wall in Beattie. Not that she antagonised them, but in a subtle way led them to think that Theo had become very much a recluse, not wanting friends interrupting his mammoth task of writing his memoirs. Some persisted for a while, but in the end accepted what Beattie said, and gave up. She had exaggerated the memoir writing, of course, although he occasionally set down memories of the past.
Gus left the pub, and returned home to telephone Deirdre. Tomorrow was Saturday, market day, and while Beattie was in town they would have two and a half hours to allow Deirdre to renew her friendship with Theo. The key player would be Rose Budd, and Gus was confident that he could draw her into a plot to foil the old dragon. But first, Deirdre, then Ivy, to keep the old thing informed. Then Rose. She had said to ask her if there was anything he needed to know, so he had the perfect excuse for knocking on her door.
“Hello? Deirdre, is that you? Gus here. Now, good news, but listen carefully.” He explained that they had to time the visit so that Beattie would have no suspicions. Ivy would be lookout, sitting on the seat outside the shop, when the afternoon bus picked up passengers. Then she would return later with Gus’s mobile phone in her handbag, and would ring the Hall to alert them to Beattie’s return.
“What about Rose Whatsit?” Deirdre said. “Will she let me in? You bet old Beattie has given her strict instructions to admit nobody!”
Gus smiled modestly. “I think you can leave Rose to me,” he said. “I’ve met her already, and she was extremely friendly and helpful. I’m sure she would have every sympathy with an attempt to brighten the life of the old boy. Will at the shop says that her husband works like a slave on the estate, and is certainly not overpaid for his labours. Beattie holds the purse strings, it seems. Any attempt to get one back on the old dragon will be enthusiastically received, I reckon. Anyway,” he continued, “if Rose won’t play ball, I’ll think of something else and let you know. So, best bib and tucker tomorrow afternoon, and best of luck.”
“Bearing in mind what Ivy suspects about Theo and Miriam Blake,” Deirdre said slowly, “my most important task is to find out what went on, what he knows and thinks about the whole murder mystery, isn’t it? Persuading him to be our client seems to have taken a backseat, especially since Ivy decided we should keep our heads down for a bit?”
“Absolutely,” said Gus. “Quite right. Get him talking, not too much reminiscing about your own steamy affair with him, and gently point him in the right direction. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He wasn’t that sure, but knew that this was a chance not to be missed. It was Deirdre on trial, really.
IVY NEXT. SHE grasped the whole plan in minutes. No, she didn’t need a tutorial on how to use a mobile. Young Katya had one, and would be a willing teacher. “The young are so much better at it than we are, Gus,” she said, well aware that he would object to being bracketed with an old lady in her seventies.
He grinned to himself. Ivy Beasley was one of the best, he decided. Meeting Ivy had made his settling in Barrington worthwhile. Then he thought of his ex-wife’s letter and enclosures, and wondered if Ivy would be up for loaning him a small amount to help him out. Of course not! No point in asking, and in any case, it would scupper the whole project if he was in debt to her. At the moment he was precariously at the helm of Enquire Within, but at any time his position could be challenged by the cousins.
Gus looked at himself in the cracked kitchen mirror, and smoothed down his thinning hair to disguise the fact that his head was beginning to show through. He straightened his shoulders, persuaded himself that he was still an attractive proposition, and set out to tackle Rose Budd.
Seventeen
THEO ROUSSEL WOKE up with the pleasant feeling he had every Saturday. Today, Beattie was going to market, and, even more pleasant, Rosebud would be coming to make his tea and keep him company. He couldn’t believe his luck when Beattie had set up this arrangement. The only thing he could think was that she considered, mistakenly, that a young and lovely blonde would never in a million years fancy such a sedentary old man.
He got out of bed and tiptoed to the door, opened it and peered up and down the corridor. No sign of Beattie. It was early, and she would not bring his cup of tea for at least half an hour. He crept quietly along to his study and taking a key from its hiding place, he moved the portrait of his grandfather to one side and carefully opened the safe door.
He took out a small box, opened it and extracted an exquisite sapphire and diamond ring. It was like a small regal crown, released into the light, sparkling as if it was brand-new. He smiled, muttered that the sapphire would match her eyes, and slipped it into his pyjama jacket pocket. Then he shut the safe door, straightened the portrait, and silently retraced his steps to his bedroom.
When Beattie knocked at his door before bringing in his early morning tea, he was able to give a convincing performance of a man waking up for the first time, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“Market day, Mr. Theo,” she said. “Up we get as soon as we’ve finished our tea. I need to get breakfast out of the way, then a basketful of ironing, quick lunch and then off on the bus. Anything you particularly fancy from the market? They had some lovely ripe peaches last week.”
Then why didn’t you buy them last week, Theo said to himself, but he answered that peaches would be just the thing. Perhaps she could look for strawberries, too, and then he could have a fruity pudding tonight.
The morning went as always for Theo. He enjoyed his breakfast of bacon and fresh mushrooms gathered by Rose’s husband David, then settled in his study with the
GUS WALKED BRISKLY along the terrace and stopped at the Budd’s house. He had tried to find Rose several times yesterday, but there had been no one at home. It would be bad luck if they had gone away on holiday! But no, someone was coming to the door. It was David Budd, and he smiled in a friendly way at Gus.
“Mr. Halfhide? Rose told me you’d met. Is there anything we can help you with? Come on in. We’re in our usual squalid muddle, but that’s children for you. Rose!” he shouted. “Here’s Mr. Halfhide!”
David was a good-looking thirty-year-old, his face tanned by an outdoor life, and with not an ounce of spare flesh on him. He had done well at school and set out to be an architect. But the years of study needed to qualify were too daunting for him, and in any case, he had always wanted to be a farmer like his maternal grandfather. Agricultural college had proved ideal, and he had enjoyed his time there. In fact, it was there he met Rose. It had
