"Our mother suffered from dementia and our father was always considered a little odd throughout his life. None of us realised at the time but, looking back, I would think he suffered from a mild schizophrenia that passed by undiagnosed. It was the way of things back then, wasn't it. We just knuckled down and got on with it. I thought Mary was seeing things, her mind filling in the gaps where there was nothing to see. After all, no matter how many times we looked, and we did look, we never saw what she did. Isn't that right?" she said, looking at her son.
"Yes. Several nights I sat up with a metal poker in my hand because Aunt Mary was distraught, but I never saw anyone either. In the end I think she stopped mentioning it because… because we found it quite annoying. I guess we shouldn't have been so dismissive after all."
The last comment was said with a sense of obvious shame attached.
"There was no way you could have known," Tom said, although the guilt in their expressions was such that the words fell on deaf ears. "But the two of you have no idea who she could be bumping heads with more recently?"
Jan shook her head. "Perhaps she wrote something in her diary."
"Do you know where she keeps it?"
"Yes, of course, in her study. Please, come with me and I'll show you."
Chapter Four
Jan Beckett led them from the drawing room and along a short corridor towards an extensive kitchen with a large orangery at the rear of the house. Only they didn't enter, instead turning to the left and into a link corridor leading to the other side of the house where they came to a closed door adjacent to a full-height sash window overlooking the grounds. With precious little light pollution, the grounds were rapidly being swallowed by the approach of night, but Tom cast a glance through the window and observed what would once have been manicured lawns and ornamental beds. There was a fountain encircled by a gravelled pathway. None of what he could see appeared well maintained, although in its heyday the grounds would have been quite a sight. Now, it all looked a little sad and neglected.
Jan Beckett placed a hand on the rounded brass knob and tried the door, but it was locked. She looked at her son and Justin stepped to the other side of the corridor and a small bookcase. He moved a tome from the top shelf and produced a key from behind it, passing it to his mother. She partially opened the door, the hinges creaking as she did so.
"My sister was very private. She didn't want the staff to enter her study."
"We will need a list of their names when you can," Tom said.
"Oh, we don't have anyone anymore, Inspector. But my sister was a creature of habit," Janet said, pushing the door open further.
The scene greeting them stopped her in her tracks.
"Oh… my word," Janet all but whispered, raising a hand to cover her mouth which had fallen open.
Tom gently placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, ensuring she didn't move forward, not that she seemed ready to. Easing past her, Tom entered the study. The room was in complete disarray. A large desk was set before a period fireplace with bookcases lining the walls, all of which were crammed full of books. The pedestal drawers to either side of the chair were open, their contents emptied onto the desk itself or strewn across the floor. Likewise, there were multiple box files on the floor, cast aside, their contents scattered in every direction. The study had dual aspect windows, much as most of the reception rooms in the house appeared to. The lower sash of one had been forced and upon closer inspection Tom could see it had been jimmied from the outside. This style of window required special locks to fasten them in place as they were far too easy to force entry for those who knew how.
Tom took great care where he placed his footing as he entered. Eric took up position alongside Jan, hovering with intent to stop her moving should she attempt to do so. Justin appeared in the doorway behind them, looking past Eric to survey the interior.
"Good God, whatever happened here?" he asked no one in particular.
Tom ignored him, whereas Eric merely glanced in the man's direction and raised a hand to indicate he should move no further. Tom made his way around to the other side of the desk, noting that the drawers must have been secured because each of them had been crudely forced, most likely with a screwdriver judging from the damage. He looked back to the doorway, fixing his eyes on Jan.
"This is recent," he said. "You didn't hear anything suspicious?"
Jan was momentarily dumbstruck, only managing the most rudimentary of responses – a shake of the head.
"I… I… don't sleep well, so I take my tablets every night before retiring. I'm afraid I don't wake at all until I rise the following day," she said, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Someone was here… here in the house while I was sleeping?"
She turned to her son for reassurance, Tom noting she was beginning to tremble at the very notion of her vulnerability. Eric moved aside and allowed her to go to Justin, who placed a comforting arm around his mother, making soothing sounds as she put her head against his chest. Although he was not a tall man, only marginally taller than Eric, he enveloped his mother within his arms, who seemed far frailer than Tom had first thought.
"It would appear that whoever it was, was looking for something," Tom said, casting a sweeping glance around the room. "Have you any idea what that might be?"
Jan shook her head. Tom met Justin's eye and he pursed his lips before also shaking his head.
"My aunt played her cards close
