Only the Cat Knows Page 16

  ‘The last any of us heard, Kiki had retired to bed with a migraine attack,’ Amanda said. ‘We haven’t expected to see her for a while.’

  ‘She’s not in bed!’ Nina wailed. ‘She’s not in her rooms!’

  ‘Then perhaps she has moved somewhere else,’ Yvonne said. ‘Monica would know.’

  Oh, yes, Monica would know. Monica, who had gone to investigate the cell after I had reported to her. Monica, who had cleared away the evidence and called Dr Anderson — not necessarily in that order. Monica would know — but would Monica tell?

  Hah-bloody-hah!

  ‘Monica doesn’t know,’ Nina said. ‘I’ve already asked her.’

  ‘Oh?’ Again glances were exchanged over her head.

  ‘Perhaps if one of us asked her …’ Amanda suggested.

  ‘Why should she tell you, if she wouldn’t tell me?’

  It was a fair question, from Nina’s point of view, but no one seemed disposed to answer it.

  ‘I want to see Mr Oversall!’ Nina’s mouth set stubbornly. ‘I want to see him now!’

  It might not be a bad idea,’ I said into the ensuing silence.

  ‘Who asked you?’ Shadow glared at me, then at the others as they hesitated. He didn’t appear to like them any better.

  ‘Get her out of here!’ He threw out the order indiscriminately, jerking his thumb in Nina’s direction, and this time I was included in the exchange of glances. ‘I won’t have Oversall disturbed!’

  ‘Umm … why don’t you take Nina back to your place?’ Candy said to me. ‘We’ll have coffee sent over and you can …’ She trailed off and I remembered she’d sought me out because she expected me to deal with Nina. The glance stops here.

  ‘All right.’ Why not? It wouldn’t hurt to show willing and, with Nina becoming increasingly agitated, I might even learn a bit more.

  ‘Come on …’ I slipped an arm around Nina’s waist and urged her towards the door. ‘Shhh … it’s all right,’ I soothed as she began to struggle. The door closed firmly behind us and it was safe to whisper. ‘We’ll go and check with Bud. He promised he’d search this morning, remember?’

  ‘Oh … yes …’ She relaxed and let me lead her outside. ‘But no one said anything about a search.’

  ‘I don’t think Bud has to report to any of them. He seems to run his own operation — in his own way.’

  ‘Yes …’ She relaxed even more, perhaps with relief. ‘Yes, you’re right. Bud will —’

  A flurry of urgent barks sent us hurrying across the lawn in their direction.

  ‘Do you … think they’ve … found something?’ Nina gasped.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I couldn’t tell her I doubted it, that I had reason to believe that all traces of anything to be found had been cleared away by now.

  ‘Squirrels,’ Bud said, patting Brutus to calm him. ‘They’re good dogs, but they’re only human …’ He paused and seemed to hear what he had just said.

  I mean,’ he clarified, ‘they’ve got these inbred instincts and sometimes they take over. The dogs can’t help it.’

  ‘Then …’ Nina relinquished hope reluctantly. ‘You haven’t … found … anything?’

  ‘Told you we wouldn’t.’ Bud was not without sympathy, but his expertise was in question. ‘We run a tight ship here.’

  But not tight enough to know anything the higher-ups might want to keep from him.

  Or did he? Was he part of the conspiracy of silence? Was he helping to cover up whatever was going on? Security could mean a lot of things.

  A low persistent buzzing began and Bud reached for a holster on his belt that I had assumed held a gun and removed a cellphone instead.

  ‘Security. Bud.’ He spoke into it, then spent the remainder of the call listening.

  ‘Right. I’ll check on them,’ he said, ending it and returning the phone to its holster. ‘They’re looking for you,’ he told me. It seems coffee is being served in your quarters and you’re not there.’

  ‘That was quick,’ I said. ‘We just left the main house.’

  ‘Things can move fast around here.’ Was there an underlying meaning in his dry tone? ‘I’ll take you back, before anyone gets upset. They like to know where everybody is.’

  ‘Except Kiki,’ Nina said bitterly.

  I might have known the unpleasant maid would be standing by my door with a heavy tray and a forbidding expression. No prizes for guessing who had reported that we hadn’t immediately gone where we were sent like good little girls.

  ‘Morning, Gerta.’ Bud nodded before turning and leaving us safely delivered to what passed for home, his duty done.

  ‘It’s past noon!’ she snapped after him. ‘And I should be helping serve lunch in the canteen —’ She transferred her complaints to us. ‘Not wasting time waiting for someone to show up.’

  ‘Where’s Dilys?’ I unlocked the door and she stormed past us to slam the tray down on a table. ‘I thought she was taking care of me. I haven’t seen her for ages.’

  ‘Dilys has been reassigned.’ The news didn’t please me and she knew it. ‘I’ll be taking over her duties here.’ That pleased me even less — and she gave me a grim knowing smile.

  ‘Have you seen Kiki?’ Nina asked abruptly.

  ‘Not since her migraine started. We all have standing orders not to disturb the migraine sufferers when they’re having an attack.’ Gerta gave a disbelieving sniff. ‘There are a lot of them around here.’

  So that was why no one had missed Kiki earlier. Not that I had the impression that anyone would have been concerned if they had.

  A loud complaint at floor level caught our attention. The cat had appeared and was in full outraged Dowager Duchess mood. Tail lashing, she focused on me and berated me for some misdemeanour I had or had not committed.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Heaven knows,’ I said. ‘She’s been in a strange mood for a long time. I don’t know what her problem is.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Gerta sniffed, allowing her dislike and contempt to show. She stalked across the room and threw open the bathroom door. ‘Can’t you smell it?’

  I exchanged a bewildered look with Nina and we both inhaled cautiously.

  Now that Gerta mentioned it, there was a sharp faintly acrid odour emanating from the bathroom. No worse than I’d encountered in the dressing rooms of some of the gamier clubs I’d played, but —

  ‘You were told —’ Gerta eyed me sternly. ‘They said if you wanted a cat, you had to look after it yourself. But —’ again the disbelieving sniff — ‘I suppose you don’t remember that, either.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’ I met the cat’s accusing eyes and apologized. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘And so you should be!’ Gerta spoke but, for a moment, I thought the cat had given voice. ‘You can’t expect us to do your nasty messy jobs. And the poor animal can’t be expected to keep using a litter box in that condition. Cats have their self-respect, you know!’

  A sharp yowl endorsed this sentiment. I should have known better. But how? I’d always moved around too much to take on any human baggage, let alone feline.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized again. ‘I’ll see to it just as soon as I can.’

  I had to take care of Nina first. At least, I thought I did. I cast an anxious look at the cat, wondering how much longer she could keep her legs crossed.

  A vaguely familiar buzzing began to make itself noticeable. Either I was developing tinnitus or — I was not altogether surprised when Gerta pulled a walkie-talkie from her apron pocket.

  ‘Gerta here,’ she said, then listened. ‘Yes, yes. They are both here now. Yes, I will tell them, Mr Shadow.’ She disconnected and returned the phone to her pocket.

  ‘You are to remain here,’ she instructed us with the officious note of delegated authority in her voice. ‘You have enough food.’ She indicated the tray filled with the ubiquitous sandwiches. ‘If you require anything more, you can inform the kitchen —’ />
  ‘Actually, I’m bored with all these sandwiches,’ I said. ‘We had enough of them yesterday. I’d rather have some fish and chips — double fish,’ I added. It was the least I could do towards making peace with the Duchess. ‘And a green salad and a decent bottle of chilled white wine.’

  ‘I will give the kitchen your dinner order myself,’ Gerta said pointedly. I needn’t think I was going to get what I wanted immediately. For lunch, I could eat the sandwiches or go hungry — she didn’t care which.

  She gave me one final look of dumb insolence then, moving swiftly, as though fearing interception, she whisked herself through the door and was gone, not quite slamming it behind her.

  ‘Well, well.’ I stared after her, feeling that she had unintentionally given me a lot to think about. But right now I concentrated on the person who seemed to be my main adversary. ‘So, it’s Mr Shadow, is it? For a nurse — or even a bodyguard — he seems to take a lot on himself.’

  ‘Nurse?’ Nina looked at me blankly. ‘Bodyguard? Oh, no. Or perhaps … a little. Just to look after his father. Along with the real work he does, learning everything.’

  ‘His father?’ It was my turn to look blank.

  ‘He’s Mr Oversall’s son.’

  ‘His son? I never knew he had one.’

  ‘He’s kept it awfully quiet. I think he wants to give everyone one last shock when he dies and they find out. Kiki found out first, though, while she was doing the research for his autobiography. None of the others knew. She only told me — and maybe you.’

  ‘If she did, I don’t know it.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s gone — along with almost everything else I ever knew.’

  ‘Kiki said it was one of those business-arrangement marriages when Mr Oversall was just starting out. And it didn’t last long enough for anyone to notice it. The poor woman died soon after having Shadow. But Mr Oversall did very well out of it: a son and a large chunk of a small Asiatic kingdom.’

  ‘And he’s kept it secret all these years?’

  ‘With enough money, you can keep anything secret.’ Nina frowned, as though she might be considering the implications of what she had just said. ‘Oh, and there was another wife or two that Kiki discovered, but they’d died, too. Mr Oversall doesn’t seem to have much luck with wives. Maybe that’s why he gave up marrying.’

  ‘Too many leftover in-laws.’ It was another point for consideration. ‘Making claims on him …’

  ‘If they knew they were in-laws.’ Nina’s glance was surprisingly shrewd. ‘Maybe he had more reason than one to keep everything so quiet.’

  ‘And there was never a whisper of any of this in the media,’ I marvelled.

  ‘No, and there probably won’t be — until he dies.’ The mere thought made Nina highly uncomfortable and she rushed into denial. ‘But that won’t be for years and years yet.’

  Oh, won’t it? Had Nessa discovered something to the contrary? And was that why someone had tried to dispose of her? And why Shadow hated her so much?

  And could the same hold true for Kiki who had been delving into old records? What else might she have discovered that the reclusive Everett Oversall wanted to keep secret?

  A sharp remark from the still-offended Dowager Duchess reminded me that there were more immediate practical considerations to attend to.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I think I’d better —’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Nina said. ‘I wasn’t planning to stay, anyway. Only long enough to make sure Gerta was out of the way before I left.’

  She crossed to the door and opened it carefully, peeking out and shuddering. ‘It’s getting dark again. More rain. I’ve got to find Kiki. I have the most awful feeling —’

  She was right. But I couldn’t tell her so.

  ‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘Be very careful.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked at me and, for the first time, all the artiness and pretentiousness dropped away from her. ‘Yes, I know.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘All right,’ I said to the Duchess as the door closed behind Nina. ‘Now let’s see about you.’

  She followed me into the bathroom and led me over to the elaborate mock-cottage that housed her litter box. I’d noticed it there in the corner, but hadn’t actually connected it with any practical use. Some decoration of Nessa’s, I’d assumed, perhaps something left over from her scenery designing days.

  The chimney acted as the handle. A cautious pull and the whole edifice lifted off, revealing the unpleasant mess it had been designed to conceal. The cat and I both retreated a couple of paces from the revolting smell now fully released into the room. She gave me an accusing look.

  ‘How was I to know?’ I tried to defend myself. ‘I thought the cleaners took care of things like this.’ Actually, I hadn’t thought about it at all and the look she gave me told me she knew it.

  ‘Right.’ I avoided her gaze. ‘Let’s sort this out now.’ With the house removed, I found a sack of kitty litter and several folded bin bags had been hidden in the corner behind it, along with a supply of small plastic sheets which were obviously used to line the litter box itself.

  I shook out a bin bag and, holding my breath, bundled liner, used litter and all into it. As I replaced the litter tray on the floor, I noticed that something that had been beneath the liner was still in it.

  I gave the tray another shake, but couldn’t dislodge the thing. At least it had been under the liner, I consoled myself, reaching for it.

  It didn’t come away without a struggle and I saw that it had been roughly glued to the tray.

  The cat gave an impatient yowl and I tossed the thing to one side as I relined and refilled the tray. First things first. The cat stepped into the tray, pawed at the litter, smoothing it out, then looked up at me huffily.

  ‘Oops, sorry.’ I got the message and covered both cat and tray with the concealing house. A lady had a right to her privacy.

  I retrieved the object I had discovered in the litter tray and gave it my full attention. It seemed to be a little square plastic envelope — the sort collectors use for small objects of value: stamps, coins, medals, that sort of thing.

  Had Nessa decided to become a collector? Of what? I turned the envelope over, looking for the opening. Whatever it was, it was concealed by a folded paper wrapped around it, perhaps for extra protection.

  For what? A Penny Black stamp? No — there was something round and hard inside that paper. A rare coin? Perhaps a valuable medal from some historic battle?

  Something worth having — and hiding. Small, valuable — and extremely portable. The sort of thing war refugees — and fugitives — invested their funds in when they knew they might have to flee a country suddenly.

  Nessa — prepared to run away?

  The opening was beneath the dollop of glue I scraped aside. The enclosing wrapper made it a tight fit inside the tiny container. I eased it out and tried not to tear the paper while I released its contents.

  I had no doubt that this was what everyone had been searching for. But surely no one around here was so short of money that they had to resort to thievery Unless it was valuable beyond the dreams of avarice?

  Yet I had the uneasy feeling that they had not known really what they were looking for — just hoping to recognize it when they saw it.

  Except, perhaps, for Ivor. He had tried to open the smallest drawer in the desk. What did he know?

  I worked away at the tightly folded paper, my disquiet stirring as my fingertips told me there was something odder here than I had imagined.

  Of course, there were ancient Chinese coins with a hole in the centre. Probably any number of ancient civilizations had once minted gold currency neatly hollowed so that it could be strung on a rope or chain for easy carrying …

  The object burst free suddenly and fell to the floor. I stared down at it, unwilling to believe the information my eyes were relaying to my brain.

  It was a ring. A plain gold ring. A wedding ring.

  I stoop
ed and retrieved it, vaguely aware that I was shaking my head in a denial I knew was useless.

  Nessa? Nessa? Married? And never told me?

  Worse — I’d had no inkling of it. How had there been such a failure of that sixth sense that had always operated between us?

  Unless -? I grasped wildly at the faint hope — explanation — that occurred to me: perhaps the ring wasn’t hers. She had found it somewhere and it … it …

  I carried the ring over to the brightest table lamp and squinted at the smooth flat inside surface. There were initials engraved on it. My eyes blurred suddenly and I couldn’t read them.

  I didn’t want to read them. Before the blurring, I had seen the V for Vanessa. Were the corresponding initials B.A. for Brian Anderson? Or even Bud? What the hell kind of name was Bud, anyway? Not a name, a nickname, that’s all. If I saw his real initials, I wouldn’t recognize them.

  Just as long as there wasn’t an I for Ivor! No. Nessa, you couldn’t have! There was no way he —

  The blurring cleared and I had to force myself to look at the inscription again. The letters danced, blurred, then settled into focus:

  E.L.O.

  Who? The L threw me momentarily. Unwanted knowledge thumped at my consciousness, but I refused to acknowledge it. I didn’t want to believe it. I wouldn’t believe it! I looked around wildly.

  The paper that had been folded so tightly around the ring lay on the table beside the lamp where I had dropped it. There was printing on one side of the paper — and handwriting. I picked it up slowly and smoothed it out.

  A marriage certificate.

  Vanessa Elfrida Miller … and … Edward Llywellyn … Oversall …

  Shadow? Shadow was my brother-in-law? But … he hated Nessa. It was in every look he gave me, every fibre of his being when he had to be near me.

  I looked at the date on the certificate … barely six months ago. It hadn’t taken long for the bloom to go off that rose.

  Nessa — what happened? In so short a time? And then I looked at the other dates. Looked … and again couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  It wasn’t Shadow Nessa had married — it was the old man himself.