A Forgotten Shadow Page 3

  “I think I should have worn a smarter jacket,” said Jimmy jogging after him and self-consciously lowering his zip a little to show the shirt and tie he was wearing underneath.

  “I’ve been telling you that for years,” muttered Shadow.

  *

  A butler with sleek grey hair and a supercilious expression answered the door and showed them into a magnificent hallway. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they crossed the marble floor. The room was full of antique furniture and two full suits of armour stood on either side of a huge fireplace. All around the walls, portraits of dukes and duchesses from the past gazed down at them. Liveried servants hurried back and forth carrying trays of glasses and crockery.

  “Please wait here, gentlemen. I shall inform His Grace that you wish to speak with him,” said the butler.

  Shadow nodded politely. “Thank you, Mr?”

  “Jarvis, sir, just Jarvis.”

  “I’ve never met a real-life butler before, Chief, or a duke. Do you think we should bow?” asked Jimmy under his breath. Before Shadow could answer, he heard a voice above their heads.

  “It’s all right, Jarvis. I’ll deal with this,” said a voice in a cool clear tone that sounded as though it was used to being obeyed. The butler inclined his head slightly and then disappeared through a door fitted into one of the wooden panels of the wall without another word. Shadow looked up. Standing at the top of the sweeping cantilever staircase was the tall, elegant figure of Annabel DeVere, Duchess of Kirkdale. She stared down at Shadow and Jimmy as if they were two Labradors that had rolled in something particularly unpleasant. Shadow recognised her immediately from her photographs that regularly appeared in the Yorkshire Post. He recalled she had once been the Honourable Annabel Wantage—a socialite and successful fashion model—before her marriage to the duke a little over a year ago.

  “Good afternoon,” he said politely. “I am Chief Inspector Shadow, and this is Sergeant Chang. We are investigating the death of Mr FitzAllan.”

  The duchess didn’t reply; instead she seemed to silently glide down the stairs. She was wearing a long black satin gown that made her pale skin look almost white. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a way that was meant to look effortless, but Shadow suspected it was anything but. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and on her ears and fingers. When she stopped in front of them, she was almost as tall as Jimmy.

  “Couldn’t this have waited? We are expecting guests this evening,” she said as she gestured to a young man laden down with plates.

  “I apologise, Your Grace, but as I said we are investigating the unexplained death of one of your guests. May we ask you a few questions about Mr FitzAllan? Did you know him well?”

  “He wasn’t my guest. I loathe shooting. You’ll need to make an appointment if you wish to speak with my husband.”

  Shadow noted she hadn’t answered his question.

  “Perhaps we could wait here until your guests arrive. If His Grace is too busy to see us this evening, it’s possible some of them could assist us instead.”

  Annabel narrowed her eyes at Shadow and drew her mouth into a thin line.

  “Come with me. He’s in the library.”

  As they followed Annabel down a long corridor lined with oil paintings of racehorses, Shadow noticed her backless dress skimmed her shoulder blades and dipped to just above the base of her spine. He was sure many men would find Her Grace alluring, but his first thought was that she could do with eating a decent meal. Perhaps he was getting old.

  The library with its high, ornately moulded ceiling overlooked the castle gardens. Books lined every wall and a discreet wooden staircase led up to a balcony that ran around the room and gave access to the higher shelves. There were no windows, but French doors led out on to a terrace, and beyond there were perfectly manicured lawns and a huge pond with a fountain, the water shimmering in the sun. Peacocks omitted the occasional screech as they strutted along an avenue of stone statues.

  Standing in front of a long mahogany table holding silver ice buckets and trays with various glasses and bottles of spirits, was an overweight, slightly balding man. He was dressed for dinner.

  “These gentlemen are here to speak to you, Bertie. They are from the police,” said the duchess before turning to leave. Shadow stepped forward.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace. My name is Chief Inspector Shadow and this is Sergeant Chang. We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened at the shoot this afternoon if we may?”

  The duke turned around a cigar in one hand and a glass of what looked like whisky in the other.

  “Extraordinary event! Absolute extraordinary! All started so well too. Should have been a cracking day. I’ve never known a shoot like it.” He paused, raised his cigar to his lips and inhaled deeply. “Well, except for that time when Boozy Carmichael’s Lab stole his Purdey. Must have chased him over a furlong, poor old Boozy. Then of course last year, or was it the year before? Tubby Forbes-Hamilton brought that Russian chap, an oligarch apparently. Turned up in a white shirt. Well, I ask you? How did he ever expect to hit anything?”

  Shadow glanced over to Jimmy. He wasn’t entering anything into his ever-present electronic notebook.

  “Why aren’t you taking notes?” Shadow hissed at him, while the duke turned away to add more ice to his drink.

  “I can’t, Chief. I haven’t got a clue what he’s talking about,” Jimmy hissed back while the duke continued to chatter on.

  “Still never had a death before. Shame. Nice chap FitzAllan, and an absolute genius with the gee-gees, like one of those horse whispering fellows. You chaps found out what happened yet? Seems like a complete mystery to me.”

  “We can’t be completely sure of anything at this stage and investigations are still ongoing,” replied Shadow. “That’s why we were hoping you might be able to help us.”

  “Darling,” interrupted a voice behind them. Shadow looked around, slightly surprised to see that Annabel was standing by the door. Had she just returned, or did she never leave the room? “I was going to suggest these detectives return at a more appropriate time,” she continued smoothly. “Our guests will be arriving shortly, and I don’t want to shock them unnecessarily—it would ruin the evening. What happened today was unfortunate, but they are here to celebrate. It is the Glorious Twelfth after all.”

  “Quite right! Always have a bit of a do on the twelfth. Drinks and dinner this evening and a few are staying over too, a house party for the Ebor,” the duke began to explain as he lit another cigar.

  “Oh, darling, you really shouldn’t. Remember what the doctor said,” chided his wife.

  “Now, Annabel, don’t be a nag! The quack worked his magic; replaced the iffy valves. My ticker is as good as new,” he replied, inhaling deeply once again.

  “Dr Galbraith is hardly a quack, darling. There aren’t any quacks on Harley Street.”

  “Ha!” barked the duke. “That’s where you’re wrong. You are impressed far too easily, Annabel. You think a chap is God, simply because he’s been to university and got a few letters after his name. Binky Charlston’s wife visited a chap on Harley Street, called himself a plastic surgeon. She came out looking like a waxwork. A melted one at that! Total mess! Speaking of which, I thought you were wearing the white dress this evening.”

  Except for a slight tightening of her jaw, Annabel didn’t react to his insult.

  “It was stained with wine from the last time I wore it. It had to be thrown out.”

  “Couldn’t you have found something less funereal?” the duke grunted. “Mummy always says black is very ageing—drains the colour—and I must say I agree with her.”

  “Don’t you always,” said Annabel under her breath, but her husband had turned to top up his drink. He didn’t seem to hear her and continued talking.

  “You could have gone out and bought a new frock. Lord knows what you’ve been doing all day. I hear poor Mummy even had to do the flowers for this evening.”

/>   Annabel opened her mouth to respond, but Shadow stepped in.

  “I would still like to speak with the other members of today’s shooting party,” he insisted, before the conversation became more domesticated. Perhaps this is what happened when you were always surrounded by servants. You grew accustomed to private exchanges not being very private. “Sir Charles Richmond and Lord and Lady Eastwold, I believe.”

  “Naturally, Chief Inspector, but not today. After all you did say as yet you don’t know if anyone else was involved in Mr FitzAllan’s death. Perhaps it would be better if you left through the garden,” suggested the duchess wearing a very brittle smile as she waved an elegant hand towards the open French doors. Shadow knew when he was being dismissed and suspected this instruction was close to being told to use the servants’ entrance after all.

  The two detectives stepped out of the library and on to the path of wide York flagstones that formed a terrace overlooking the impressive gardens. It was still very warm, but to the west the sun was slowly falling in the sky, casting a golden glow over the moors.

  “Wow, this place is bigger than Museum Gardens and Dean’s Park put together,” said Jimmy as they made their way down the steps and on to a gravel path that ran between the lawns and down to the fountain. “How many gardeners do you think they have?”

  “The more pressing question right now, Sergeant, is how do we get back to the car as the duchess has made it quite clear we are no longer welcome in the house?” replied Shadow looking around him. He had completely lost his bearings.

  “Let’s head towards the greenhouses, Chief,” suggested Jimmy, pointing to the row of large red-brick and glass Victorian greenhouses, on the far right-hand side of the garden. “I’m sure we passed them driving in and one of the peacocks is heading over there, so I might be able to get a photo of him.”

  “Don’t tell me,” grumbled Shadow as they crunched along the gravel. “As well as a butler and a duke, you’ve never seen a peacock before either.”

  “Not in the wild.”

  “This isn’t the wild, Sergeant.”

  “No, maybe not, Chief, but you know what I mean. I’ve been thinking I should learn more about wildlife. If I ever have children, I want to teach them about animals and stuff,” said Jimmy as he took out his phone and began to click away. “The duke and duchess didn’t seem very upset that one of guests had died, did they?”

  “Like I said, that’s the aristocracy for you,” muttered Shadow as he noticed a lady stepping out of one of the greenhouses and walking towards them. She was average height, slim and wearing a simple cotton, floral-print dress. Her grey chin-length hair was covered by a wide-brimmed straw sun hat. A wax jacket similar to Shadow’s was draped over her left arm and in her right hand she carried a large wooden trug piled high with poppies, foxgloves and other wildflowers. Shadow estimated that she was in her late seventies. Her face broke into a warm smile when she saw the two men.

  “Let me guess. Lost ramblers? No, you aren’t really dressed for a day yomping across the moors. Men from the ministry? No, you don’t look like civil servants either and it’s a little late for you to be working.”

  Shadow shook his head as he held out his hand.

  “I’m afraid not. We’re the police. Chief Inspector Shadow and Sergeant Chang,” he replied. The older lady’s smile faded as she placed the trug carefully on the ground and returned his handshake.

  “Then you must be here regarding the death of the poor Irish gentleman. I’m Sybil DeVere by the way.”

  “Did you know Mr FitzAllan?” asked Jimmy.

  “Yes, I knew him. He trained my son’s horses and before that, my late husband’s.”

  “Were you involved with today’s shoot at all?” asked Shadow before Jimmy could jump in again. Sybil’s smile returned, but she shook her head.

  “No, Chief Inspector, I’m afraid my shooting days are over. Anyway, I hear it was very much a boys’ day out, although I’m sure Lavinia tagged along too. She does hate to think she’s missing out.”

  “Who’s Lavinia?” enquired Jimmy, who had swapped his phone for his electronic notebook and had begun tapping away again.

  “Lavinia Eastwold, my son’s sister-in-law.”

  Jimmy frowned, clearly struggling to keep track of the family dynamics. At the same time one of the castle’s gardeners walked by wearing a flat cap and carrying a spade over his shoulder.

  “Good evening, Your Grace, gentlemen,” he said nodding in their direction and raising his hand to touch his cap. “Let me take care of these for you, Your Grace,” he said, picking up the trug and continuing on his way.

  “Evening, Bill, and thank you,” Sybil replied.

  “If you are the duke’s mother, does that make you a duchess too?” Jimmy asked, looking a little embarrassed.

  “I became the dowager duchess following the death of my husband—Xander—and before my marriage I was the Honourable Sybil Davenport. I appreciate your confusion, Sergeant, but please call me Sybil. First names make life so much simpler. Now if you will excuse me, we’re having a party this evening and I must change. Would you gentlemen care to join us? I’m sure you must be hungry and thirsty.”

  “That’s very kind, but I’m not entirely sure we would be welcome,” said Shadow.

  Sybil gave a knowing nod of her head.

  “Ah I see, then you must have already met Annabel, my daughter-in-law.” She paused and studied the chief inspector. “You said your name was Shadow. Many years ago we had tenants with that name. Jack and Elsie Shadow at Church Farm. Are you any relation?”

  “Yes, they were my grandparents,” replied Shadow.

  “Then you must be the son of Constable Shadow.” And the older lady’s smile faded once again. “I remember what happened that night. It was a tragedy for your family, and you were only a little boy. I’m so very sorry.” She seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment, then her tone became more businesslike. “Now I expect you are trying to locate your car. If you walk through that door to you right,” she said pointing to a small wooden door set into the garden wall, “you will find yourself in the walled garden, where we grow all our own vegetables, although it’s a constant battle with the damn rabbits. There’s another door on the far side wall. Go through that and you’ll arrive on the west lawn. You should be able to see your car from there.”

  The detectives thanked her and followed her directions, which indeed led them back to their car. As they were leaving, they saw several Range Rovers and at least one Bentley arrive.

  “It would be worth staying just to see all the flash cars,” said Jimmy as he tried to discreetly photograph a vintage Aston Martin gliding by. They drove back down the long driveway and turned right at the gatehouse towards the village. Shadow noticed the lace curtains hanging in one of the gatehouse windows twitch as they passed by. He turned to look and see who was there, but he suddenly heard a horn blare, and Jimmy slammed on the brakes. Shadow’s head jerked awkwardly.

  “For crying out loud. What are you doing?” he demanded, rubbing his sore neck.

  “Sorry, Chief, that horsebox came round the corner really quickly,” Jimmy explained gesturing towards the vehicle that was now racing towards the village. “Do you want me to follow it?”

  “No forget about it, but look where you’re going from now on,” grumbled Shadow.

  As they drove back through the village, they came to the pub, the DeVere Arms, and Shadow spotted a Land Rover parked outside with a spaniel and two Labradors hanging their heads out of the back window. It was still warm and the late evening sun was reflecting off the pub windows. Two young men in checked shirts and tweed breeks were sitting outside at one of the wooden picnic tables. They had rolled up their sleeves and removed their ties.

  “Pull over here,” Shadow ordered. “These two look like they’ve been shooting. Let’s call in for a quick drink.” Jimmy parked next to the Land Rover, and the dogs greeted them with a loud chorus of woofs and howls.

 
“Quiet!” ordered one of the young men firmly and the dogs immediately fell silent. A middle-aged woman came bustling out of the pub carrying two glass tumblers of dark liquid on a tray. Her hair was an unnatural shade of red and she was wearing a low-cut, clingy leopard-print top with her tight jeans and high heels. She placed the two glasses down in front of the young men.

  “Brandy! That’s what you need for shock,” she declared, “on the house of course, my loves.”

  “Thanks, Bet,” replied the young man with his back to Shadow and Jimmy as he took a grateful sip.

  “I can’t, Bet, I’m driving,” protested the other young man who had silenced the dogs.

  “Don’t be daft, Giles. Leave the Landy where it is. You only live across the road,” replied the barmaid, who they now knew was called Bet. Shadow’s eyes followed her hand with the fingernails painted exactly the same shade as her hair as she pointed to the little cottage where he’d been born. There was a single-storey extension to the side of the cottage that was now a garage but had once been the tiny village police station. All Shadow could remember about the place was a strong smell of furniture polish and the large brass bell on the counter, which he had sometimes been allowed to play with. Still, it felt strange to think of this young man living there. He had somehow imagined it would be frozen in time. He was so deep in thought that at first he didn’t notice Bet, the barmaid, had spoken and was staring at him expectantly. Jimmy nudged him with his elbow.

  “I’m sorry,” said Shadow with a start, “did you say something?”

  “I said, what can I get you, love?” repeated the barmaid, her hands firmly placed on her hips as she looked him up and down with an expert eye.

  “A pint of Black Sheep please and a mineral water for my sergeant,” said Shadow without thinking. Bet’s heavily pencilled eyebrows shot up.

  “Police are you? I should have guessed. Well, you certainly didn’t waste any time. Poor Flynn—the village won’t be the same without him. Good-looking too, a bit like a younger version of yourself. I’ve always had a thing for coppers. Now take a seat and don’t be upsetting Giles and Fred with your questions. They’ve had a nasty shock,” she ordered before disappearing back into the pub with a little wiggle of her hips and leaving behind an embarrassed Shadow and Jimmy, who couldn’t stop grinning.