Murder on Skiathos Read online

  This statement was met with a startled silence. Even Mr Vickers appeared surprised by the turn of events and began coughing rather violently. Rose found herself blushing. To be described as a private enquiry agent, when at best she considered herself to be no more than an amateur sleuth, was a little too much to bear. Certainly, it turned her cheeks a vivid crimson and for a moment she wished she could do anything but meet the incredulous gaze from the sea of faces before her.

  ‘What a jolly splendid notion,’ remarked Lavinia, seemingly coming to her rescue. ‘My sister-in-law has really a most remarkable reputation as an amateur sleuth. She’s solved simply loads of murder cases; dozens, in fact,’ she exaggerated. ‘Scotland Yard would be at a complete loss without her.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ enthused Miss Hyacinth, turning to address the younger woman. ‘Why, dear Lady Lavinia, you were telling me only the other day how Lady Belvedere is acquainted with the very best detectives, and of course, your ladyship, I have read of your exploits in the newspapers,’ she said, turning to address Rose. ‘I think it the most marvellous idea, I really do, and I for one would much rather be interviewed by you, dear Lady Belvedere, than by anyone else. Certainly than by one of the local policemen.’ She lowered her voice. ‘One hears such awful stories, though I daresay there is not a word of truth in them.’

  She beamed rather ingratiatingly at Rose. Was it the girl’s imagination or, beneath the warm smile, did she detect a faint flicker of something akin to fear? Certainly the little bright eyes seemed to dart for a moment towards her sister, though, if Miss Hyacinth was seeking a sign of reassurance from that quarter, she was to be disappointed. For Miss Peony’s face was, to all intents and purposes, little more than a mask. Remarkably so, Rose thought, given the circumstances. It was as if the woman was making every effort to assume an air of indifference.

  ‘Naturally what I have said has been a great shock to you all,’ continued Mr Kettering, keen to bring his speech to a close. ‘I would not be surprised if some of you wished to retire to your rooms to digest this news. I would, however, ask that you remain here in the dining room. Lady Belvedere, with my assistance, will be speaking to each of you in turn. You may then return to your rooms or continue with the activities that you have planned for the day. I would ask, however, that none of you seek to leave the hotel.’

  He stood and waited to ascertain how his instructions were received. Possibly he was of the view that at least one of his guests would protest, and even question his authority to detain them at the hotel. To Rose’s surprise, no one, not even the objectionable Mr Vickers, demurred. She had expected that at least one of them would insist that they be permitted to leave the hotel without delay. That no one did so was a cause of interest.

  Having concluded his speech, Mr Kettering descended the stage and began to make his way towards the door.

  ‘’Ere,’ said the ever-vocal Mr Vickers. ‘What about Miss Dewhurst? I trust you’ll be giving her this little speech, same as you gave us?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said the hotel proprietor coldly. ‘As it happens, Lady Belvedere has already spoken with Miss Dewhurst, not that I can see it is any business of yours.’

  ‘It’s more my business than you might think,’ retorted Mr Vickers mysteriously.

  ‘I very much doubt that,’ replied Mr Kettering. He took a step or two towards Mr Vickers. ‘I should warn you that I will not tolerate you bothering any of my guests.’

  ‘What, threatening me now, are you?’ Mr Vickers laughed; it was not a very pleasant sound.

  Mr Kettering countered with a few choice words of his own, leaving the man in very little doubt as to the measures the hotel proprietor would take should Mr Vickers be foolish enough to disobey his orders. Rose stole a glance around the room. For a few moments at least, the attention of the others would be on the argument. She walked quickly over to her sister-in-law and spoke quietly in her ear, cautious of being overhead.

  ‘Lavinia,’ she said, a note of urgency in her voice, ‘if you have anything to tell me, you should tell it to me now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ replied her friend, her eyes widening in genuine surprise.

  ‘When I speak to you later, I shall not be alone. Mr Kettering will be with me.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What I am trying to say is if you have anything to tell me which you would not wish to say in front of Mr Kettering, you must tell it to me now.’

  Lavinia raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, making no attempt to lower her own voice to match that of her companion’s.

  ‘Ssh!’ said Rose sharply, uncomfortably aware that, despite her best efforts, their conversation was attracting a few interested glances. ‘I have … I have something that belongs to you.’

  ‘Do you? That sounds awfully intriguing. What is it?’ demanded Lavinia.

  ‘Oh, do be quiet and listen,’ cried Rose in a loud whisper, looking about her apprehensively.’

  ‘Really, Rose. You do talk in the most frightful riddles sometimes,’ said Lavinia laughing.

  Rose made as if to respond, but it was too late. For Mr Kettering, having finished his rather heated conversation with Mr Vickers, had appeared at her shoulder. She noticed that his cheeks were flushed and that his spectacles had slipped a little way down his nose so that they sat crookedly. It was obvious, even to the most casual observer that he was keen to leave both the room and the quarrel with Mr Vickers behind him. There was nothing else for her to do other than give Lavinia one last warning look and follow the hotel proprietor out of the dining room.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rose followed Mr Kettering across the terrace and into the foyer of the main hotel. She found herself ushered into a small room positioned behind the entrance hall, which served as the hotel proprietor’s office. It was a pleasant room, commanding as it did a fine view of the hotel grounds and having the benefit of being light and airy. It was decorated very much in the guise of a gentleman’s study. Fine floor to ceiling oak bookcases, laden with old volumes of the classics bound in calf leather, lined the walls. A capacious oak desk took up a considerable portion of one end of the room, to which three mahogany chairs had been drawn up, as if Mr Kettering was intending to call a business meeting. A couple of Mecca Shiraz oriental rugs of muted colour were strewn about the floor and a Chesterfield sofa in faded leather stood in one corner of the room. Framed oil paintings of hunting scenes hung from the distempered walls. Rose had the odd impression, as she glanced about the room, that a small portion of England had been brought to the island’s distant shores. Indeed, that if she were to stand with her back to the window so that the scorching sun and the vivid cornflower blue of the sky were hidden from view, she might be standing in a cottage in one of the English counties.

  ‘This room reminds me of home,’ Mr Kettering said with a rueful smile, as if he guessed her thoughts. ‘Not very in keeping with the surroundings, I know.’ He coughed and cleared his throat. ‘I thought we might interview the hotel guests here. That’s to say, it seemed to me as good a place as any.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Rose. ‘This will do very well.’

  ‘Hello?’ said Mr Kettering, for there came to their ears the sound of hurrying footsteps. A moment later and the door was thrown open and Cedric appeared.

  ‘I say,’ the earl said, without preamble, ‘we found something rather odd when we were searching Dewhurst’s clothes.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Rose, interested. ‘What was that?’

  ‘The chap’s pockets were stuffed with trinkets. Absolutely crammed with them. It must have weighed him down a bit. His jacket would have been quite ruined, even if he hadn’t fallen over the edge of the cliff and got covered in sand. The lining was ripped to shreds in places and one or two of the seams were coming undone.’ He sighed. ‘It makes you wonder why the fellow didn’t stuff them into a sack or a case.’

  ‘It does’, agreed Rose. ‘It also suggests that he may have been in something of a hurry. Wh
ere are they now, these trinkets?’

  ‘With Costas. The fellow’s awfully thorough. He insisted on cataloguing them. He refused to let me have them until he’d made out a detailed list.’

  ‘That sounds like Costas,’ said Mr Kettering, with a note of approval in his voice.

  ‘I made a quick note of the items myself,’ said Cedric, consulting a page from his pocketbook. ‘Ten pairs of gold cufflinks, some with enamel, others with diamonds or sapphires, and one pair with coral and onyx. Five pairs of gold collar pins; seven gold tie clasps, some with diamonds; four pairs of gold shirt studs and six gold pocket watches.’

  Mr Kettering raised his eyebrows. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I should place them in the hotel safe. I would not wish them to be stolen.’

  ‘I should like to examine them before you do,’ said Rose, ‘particularly the pocket watches.’

  The hotel proprietor said, in a slightly lowered voice: ‘It seems to me rather strange that Mr Dewhurst should carry such items on his person, and in such a fashion too. You don’t think there is any possibility that he stole them, do you?’

  ‘Well, I’m not missing any jewels,’ Cedric replied with something of a grin, ‘and Father Adler doesn’t strike me as the type to wear coral and onyx cufflinks.’ He adopted a more serious tone. ‘If the man was a thief, he’d have done better to steal the women’s jewellery. I know for a fact that Lady Lavinia has brought a string of pearls with her, to say nothing of a rather valuable diamond necklace.’

  This did little to alleviate Mr Kettering’s anxiety. ‘By rights, my lord,’ he said, with a worried frown, ‘such items should be placed in the hotel safe.’

  ‘They should,’ agreed Cedric, ‘but I’ll leave you to tell my sister that! It’s possible she may listen to you; she certainly won’t heed me on the subject. But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I doubt very much our man Dewhurst was a thief. These items seem to me just the sort of thing a rich woman might give to her lover.’

  Mr Kettering went bright red and seemed suddenly fascinated by the pattern on one of the rugs. ‘You are suggesting that these … these items were presents from … um, Miss Dewhurst?’

  ‘And other women. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to discover that was how Dewhurst made his living, if you can call it that. Didn’t Vickers say as much?’

  ‘I suggest we refer to Miss Dewhurst as the Duchess of Grismere now,’ said Rose. ‘I think there is little use in us carrying on the pretence and calling her by anything else. Not if we want to get at the truth.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Cedric. ‘Anyway, I very much doubt whether there is anyone among the hotel guests who still believes she is Miss Dewhurst. And if there is, Vickers is probably at this very minute putting them right.’ He turned to address his wife. ‘Talking of the duchess, did you manage to speak with her? I suppose it was an awful shock for her, Dewhurst dying like that? How did she take the news?’

  ‘Rather badly as it happens,’ Rose said. ‘That’s to say, I thought she did at first.’ She gave a brief account of her conversation with the woman. ‘Of course, I shall need to speak with her again; she didn’t tell me much. I wonder,’ Rose pondered aloud, ‘if that wasn’t her intention.’

  ‘I say, it’s a bit much her hoping to return to her life in England as if none of this had ever happened,’ said Cedric. ‘I wonder what the duke will have to say about that. Still,’ he added, ‘it suggests that she wasn’t too fond of Dewhurst. That’s to say, she may have gone off the deep end for him in the beginning, but it sounds to me as if she’d tired of him.’

  ‘Which would have given her rather a good motive for wishing him dead,’ said Rose, ‘particularly if he did not wish to be thrown over. He may have threatened to blackmail her. There were letters, you know. She told me as much.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ cried Mr Kettering, looking appalled.

  ‘Mr Dewhurst,’ continued Rose, as if the hotel proprietor had not spoken, ‘struck me as the sort of fellow who wouldn’t want to have been discarded, not if he thought he was on to a good thing.’

  ‘I say,’ said Cedric, ‘what if the fellow was blackmailing her already?’

  ‘It would explain something that was rather puzzling me,’ admitted Rose. ‘That’s to say, it would explain why the duchess was persuaded to come to dinner last night when it was very evident that she did not wish to be there.’

  ‘And also why Dewhurst was quite happy to carry on with Miss Adler in front of her,’ said Cedric. ‘I say, I know one ought not to speak ill of the dead, but the man was an absolute cad. No wonder someone saw fit to bump him off!’

  ‘I don’t suppose,’ said Mr Kettering in rather a small voice. ‘that there is the faintest possibility that the murderer was not one of my hotel guests?’

  ‘I think it highly unlikely,’ said Cedric, ‘unless someone followed him to this island with the purpose of murdering him, of course, which doesn’t seem very likely. For one thing, he was evidently travelling in disguise. Dewhurst was not his real name, you know. Vickers told me he was called Goodfellow. And if you are thinking that the motive could have been theft, I shouldn’t bother if I were you. Any self-respecting thief would have taken those trinkets with him, not left them on Dewhurst’s body for us to find.’

  There was a long pause in which Mr Kettering looked very pale and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for some terrifying ordeal. Rose looked at him with some anxiety, aware that to his ears she and her husband may have sounded rather glib. In truth, she was as much affected by Alec Dewhurst’s murder as the hotel proprietor himself. She was also all too aware of the potentially devastating effect such an incident could have on the future of Hotel Hemera.

  ‘I’m awfully sorry,’ she said, ‘We didn’t mean to be flippant. I do hope you don’t regret your decision that I investigate this case?’

  ‘Not at all, your ladyship,’ said the hotel proprietor urbanely. ‘I feel pretty shaken up about all this, I don’t mind telling you. It’ll take me a while to get my head around it, that’s all. I knew, of course, that we should need to interview the hotel guests, but I suppose it didn’t really occur to me that we would be looking for motives for why any of them may have wished Dewhurst dead. There is something rather ghastly –’

  ‘I quite understand how you must feel,’ said Rose quickly. ‘It’s perfectly horrid and too beastly for words, but I’m afraid it must be done. And anyway, it would be too awful for everyone to have to sit and wait for your friend to arrive from the mainland, each aware that they were under suspicion and knowing there was not the smallest thing they could do about it. At least this way they will have a chance to get off their chests anything they may wish to tell us. If nothing else, it will give them something to do.’

  ‘You are quite right, your ladyship,’ agreed the hotel proprietor, rallying a little. ‘Who would you like to speak to first?’

  ‘Actually,’ said Rose, aware that she was treading on thin ice, ‘I should like to have a look at the guests’ rooms, if you have no objections.’

  Mr Kettering looked as if he had a great many objections to this proposal and that he had every intention of putting them into words. Rose held up a hand, before he had a chance to protest.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s absolutely necessary that I see the rooms as soon as possible,’ she said quickly. ‘Certainly before the guests have had a chance to return to them.’

  ‘It would be most irregular,’ objected Mr Kettering.

  ‘It is just possible that they may have left something incriminating in their rooms. Really, it is the very first thing the police would do if they were here.’

  ‘Is it really?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose, with slightly more conviction than she felt. ‘And in this particular case, the murderer was no doubt of the belief that Mr Dewhurst’s death would be determined an accident. You do see what that means, don’t you, Mr Kettering?’

  The hotel proprietor looked perplexed.

  ‘The murderer would h
ave thought there was little need to cover his tracks,’ explained Rose. ‘However, now that he knows we regard the death as suspicious, he will be at pains to rid himself of any bit of evidence which might be considered incriminating or as providing him with a motive for wishing Alec Dewhurst dead.’

  ‘I do see, of course, your ladyship, but it would be most improper,’ said Mr Kettering. ‘My guests are certain to complain, and I can’t say that I would blame them.’

  ‘There’s no reason why they should know,’ said Rose firmly, ‘unless we find some incriminating piece of evidence. Then I think they will have far more to worry about than the fact we searched their rooms.’ Noting that the hotel proprietor still looked unconvinced, she added: ‘We’ll need to do a thorough search, of course, but we shall make sure that everything is put back as neatly as we found it.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Mr Kettering rather reluctantly, and somewhat against his better judgement. ‘Where do we start?’

  ‘I’d better get back to Costas,’ said Cedric, following his wife and the hotel proprietor out of the office and into the foyer. He strode away, intent on examining the trinkets.

  Meanwhile, Rose and Mr Kettering began their search of the guests’ rooms. After some deliberation, they commenced with Mr Vickers’ room, which Rose thought was rather a miserable affair. Not only, she was to discover later, was the room tiny in comparison to all the others, it was decidedly shabby and chaotic, and looked as if it had seen better days. The same could be said of Mr Vickers’ clothes, of which there appeared to be only a few. They were heavily darned and frayed in places and draped untidily over a chair. Some had fallen off the chair onto the floor and lay muddled with two pairs of shoes which were badly scuffed.