‘Was his father there?’
‘His father died when Aiden was quite young. Cancer. He has a sister but she wasn’t invited. Actually, there was hardly anyone on his side of the family. Mrs MacNeil was quite sweet, a bit of an old lady, very Scottish. I was thinking how boring the whole thing was when I heard screaming coming from somewhere outside the tent and a few minutes later Helen came in, looking like she’d just seen a ghost.’
‘Helen?’
‘She was head of housekeeping. It turned out that one of the maids had just gone into room twelve and had found Frank Parris with his skull smashed in and bits of brain all over the sheets.’ Lisa was almost gloating. Despite what she had said earlier, she couldn’t help herself from being amused by the total destruction of her sister’s big day. Looking at her, I wondered if she wasn’t a little bit unhinged.
‘The maid was called Natasha,’ Lawrence cut in. ‘She’d gone in to clean the room and she discovered the body.’
Lisa downed her whisky in one. ‘I don’t know what you hope to find, Susan. Stefan admitted to the crime and now he’s got what he deserves. It’ll be ten years before they even think of letting him out again and serves him right. As for Cess, she’ll turn up when it suits her. She likes being the centre of attention. She’s probably just playing the drama queen.’
She got unsteadily to her feet and I realised she must have been drinking before she arrived and that the two double whiskies had supplemented many others. ‘I’ll leave the two of you together,’ she said.
‘Lisa, you should eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ She leaned towards me. ‘You’re responsible for Cecily,’ she snarled. ‘You published the fucking book. You find her.’
Lawrence watched her as she wove her way across the dining room. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said. ‘Lisa works very hard. She’s actually responsible for the entire running of the hotel. But she can get a bit tired.’
‘She doesn’t seem to like her sister very much.’
‘You shouldn’t take any notice of that. Lisa just likes to show off.’ He was trying to convince me but he didn’t even sound very convinced himself. ‘It started when they were very young,’ he admitted. ‘There was always a lot of rivalry between them.’
‘How did she get that scar?’
‘Ah, I thought you might ask about that.’ He was reluctant to tell me. I waited. ‘I’m afraid that was Cecily. It was a complete accident, but … ’ He let out a breath. ‘Lisa was twelve and Cecily was ten and they had an argument. Cecily threw a kitchen knife at her. She really didn’t mean it to hit her sister. It was just a stupid, childish thing to do when she lost her temper, but the blade absolutely sliced into Lisa and … well, you’ve seen the result. Cecily was terribly upset.’
‘What were they arguing about?’
‘Does it really matter? Boys, probably. They were always jealous of each other’s boyfriends. I mean, that’s quite common with young girls. Cecily was always the better-looking of the two and if she met someone it would infuriate Lisa. That’s why she’s taken against Aiden, incidentally. What she said about him – it’s just jealousy. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, really. He and I have always got along.’
He picked up his wine glass.
‘Girls will be girls!’
He said it as a toast but I didn’t join in. Girls might be girls, but not, I thought, borderline psychotics. Lisa had been disfigured by Cecily. She had a serious grudge against Aiden. And that grudge, all tied up with some sort of sexual jealousy, might have extended to Stefan Codrescu too.
Serious or murderous?
Which?
The Night Manager
I didn’t eat very much dinner. I was stung by what Lisa had said to me and wondered if it was true: I had never unleashed Alan Conway on Branlow Hall but it was undoubtedly true that I had profited by what he had done. Like it or not, I was partly to blame.
After coffee, Lawrence took me out through the kitchen and I noticed the service staircase and the lift leading up to the second floor. We emerged round the back of the hotel and, looking across the courtyard, I saw the driveway that led to Branlow Cottage. There were lights on behind some of the windows. The black Range Rover was still parked outside.
‘It’s been absolute hell for Aiden,’ Lawrence said. ‘The moment he reported Cecily missing, he turned himself into the main suspect. It’s always the husband in cases like this. But I can’t bring myself to believe that he would do anything to hurt my daughter. I’ve seen them together. I know what they mean to each other.’
‘They only have one child?’ I said.
‘Yes. I was a little sad about that. But it was a difficult birth and I think Cecily just didn’t want to go through it all again. Anyway, she was so busy running the hotel.’
‘You said that Roxana is seven.’ I’d already done the maths. ‘When is her birthday?’
Lawrence knew what I was getting at. ‘Cecily was already expecting her when she got married – but that wasn’t the reason for it. Young people these days don’t feel under pressure … not like we did. Aiden’s devoted to his daughter. Right now, she’s the only thing keeping him sane.’
‘Do you think he’ll mind talking to me?’ It was something that had been worrying me. I was here because I’d been asked to read a book which might or might not be connected to a murder that had taken place eight years before. That was one thing. Interrogating a grieving husband about his missing wife was quite another.
‘I’m sure he’ll be glad to talk to you. I can ask him if you like.’
‘I’d be grateful. Thank you.’
As we talked, we passed the swimming pool which was contained in an oversized conservatory that might have been modelled on Brighton Pavilion. It stood next to a handsome building, a miniature replica of the main house. This had once been a granary store but had been converted into a spa. It was closing for the night and a good-looking young man came out of the side door, dressed in a tracksuit and carrying a sports bag. He noticed us and waved.
‘That’s Marcus,’ Lawrence told me. ‘He runs the spa – but he only joined us a couple of years ago.’
‘Who was running it when Frank Parris was killed?’
‘An Australian. His name was Lionel Corby. But he left soon after. We actually lost quite a few staff, as you might expect.’
‘Do you know where he is now?’
‘He may have gone back to Australia. I’ve got his last phone number if that’s any help.’
He had come from Australia. So had Frank Parris. It was a connection of sorts. ‘Yes. That might be useful,’ I said.
We reached the stable block, which had been converted into living quarters for staff: there were five small apartments, studio flats next to each other, each with a door and a single window facing the hotel. A general maintenance room stood at the far end. Lawrence pointed. ‘That was where Stefan kept his toolbox, including the hammer that he used for the crime.’
‘Can I see?’