Sculpt a Murder Read online

“You think I should go? I was wondering whether Eleanor would like me to stay and help. Clear up or something.”

  Joe put a hand on her shoulder. “We should go, Alice. Let the police do their job.”

  Nick Carberry’s lifeless face kept popping into Alice’s head as she drove home. Her client was dead and she had barely started her work at Renton Hall. But why? The blond-haired man who had whispered in Nick’s ear had forced him to excuse himself. Who was that man? And what had he said to Nick? It must have been important, or Nick would not have left so abruptly. Perhaps it was a message to meet somebody in the woods. Maybe the blond man had killed Nick Carberry. So many questions, Alice was starting to feel giddy.

  Alice parked her Defender in the underground car park of Joe’s apartment block. Alice felt the need for caffeine and bounded up the stairs ahead of him. To remove Nick Carberry’s face from her mind, she pictured herself pouring roasted beans into the grinder. She could almost smell the coffee.

  She reached the top floor and was just about to switch on the light when she saw a tall, wiry man, his back towards her, leaning against Joe’s front door. Alice held her breath. She pulled her fingers into fists and let her head sink into her shoulders. There was no sign of Joe behind her, so she raised her right foot to step back into the stairwell. Too late. The man spun around.

  His eyes locked on hers. He smiled a toothy smile.

  “Hello, Ally Pally.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Alice lay in bed mulling over the previous evening’s events. What had started as a happy family party to mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, had ended in tragedy.

  Alice had met Nick Carberry at Renton Hall only the week before. The Carberry family had a large art collection and Eleanor and Nick had hired Alice to catalogue everything and select a few pieces to hang in the hotel. Nick had been charming and Alice was deeply impressed at how the pair had thrown themselves so passionately into the project. But what would happen to it now? Perhaps Eleanor would put the project on hold.

  Alice got out of bed and rummaged through clothes on a chair. She pulled on a pair of tracksuit trousers and one of Joe’s t-shirts. In the mirror she was horrified to see a messy mop of dark hair and lashes still caked in the previous night’s mascara. Stumbling into the kitchen, she made straight for the coffee machine.

  “And she’s up! You never were good in the mornings were you, Ally?”

  Alice said nothing. She made herself a mug of strong coffee, sat down at the kitchen table and contemplated her brother. Green eyes peered out of a thin, oval face below short, dark hair in a polished quiff.

  “You must have been up since the crack of dawn, fussing over that hair.”

  “Well it’s better than the haystack on your head. You’d need a pitchfork to get through that.”

  “I don’t have the money to spend on expensive hair products. Are you still getting your hair gel from San Francisco?”

  “Well, I don’t—”

  “Easy, easy.” Joe removed bacon from a frying pan. “I appreciate you haven’t seen each other in a while, but I’m finding the kindergarten banter a bit much with my Sunday breakfast.” He put a plate in front of each sibling. “Christian, you were no eggs, right?”

  Christian nodded, picked up a fork and dived into his food. Alice glared at the top of her brother’s expensively coiffed hair until she could resist the scrambled eggs no more. They finished their breakfast in silence. Afterwards, Alice curled up on the sofa as Christian explained why he had landed on her doorstep in the middle of the night.

  “So, it wasn’t until I got home late on Thursday that I found a bunch of suitcases sitting in the hall. Jasmine had gone on a business trip, but she left a note saying that she’d packed up all my stuff and I should leave immediately.”

  “I’m sorry it turned out like that, Christian. Though you can’t have been surprised, she’s asked you to move out, what, three times?”

  “I know, I know. But I didn’t think she actually meant it.”

  “Not even when she told you the relationship was over.”

  Christian closed his eyes, hugging his cheeks with his hands. Alice reached out and cupped his elbow. Was he going to cry?

  “I’m not going to cry if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “I wasn’t.” Alice swallowed hard. “But thanks for the heads up.”

  It had been six months since Alice had last seen Christian. She and Joe had stopped off in Manchester on their way home from a weekend in Glasgow. She liked Jasmine, but she could see that her ruthless ambition did not match Christian’s easygoing attitude to work and life. Sooner or later, it would be an issue between them.

  “So, what now?” said Alice. “You’ll have to find somewhere to live presumably?”

  “I can stay with friends for a bit while I look for a house share. Somewhere closer to the centre this time.”

  “Have you thought of buying a property? Surely you earn enough to get something half decent?”

  “I’m not sure I’m grown-up enough for a mortgage!”

  “You’re killing me Christian. You’re thirty-two.”

  Christian rubbed his stubbly chin. “It’s not about the number, Alice. Besides, how would I afford all those expensive hair products on top of a mortgage?”

  “Very funny. Seriously, where will you stay while you sort out something permanent?”

  “Here! My boss has given me a couple of weeks’ leave to sort myself out, so I thought I’d stay with you.” Christian looked around the apartment. “Though I didn’t realise you’d moved in with Joe. Some guy next door to your barge told me you were living here now.”

  “You’ve been to Daisy Dawn?”

  “Naturally. The barge is – was – your home, Ally. The guy said you still rent it.”

  “That was Roddy Rafferty. Yes, I moved in here with Joe, but I kept Daisy on as an office. Now that I’m freelancing I need somewhere to work and I didn’t want to clog up Joe’s apartment with more of my stuff. Plus, I still like the idea of leaving home to go to work.”

  “I’m not surprised you kept the barge, it must be fun living on a boat. I wouldn’t mind having a go myself.”

  Alice could take a hint. “Why don’t you stay on Daisy? It would give you some space and I’ll see you during the day while I’m working. Plus, it would take our kindergarten chatter out of the grown-up’s apartment!”

  Alice helped Christian re-pack and they loaded his bags into the Defender for the short drive to the river.

  The barge was part of a small river-dwelling community that had been on the River Nare in Great Wheaton for over a century. Daisy’s owners had lovingly refurbished the barge, intending to spend their holidays meandering along Britain’s waterways, until a lucrative contract had taken them overseas. So, they had rented Daisy to Alice. It was a turn of fate that had been Alice’s salvation when she was looking for an affordable property.

  “Wow, this is something.” Christian circled the deck. “Talk about being close to nature. Look – a pair of swans are coming over to say hello.”

  “Jeez, Christian! Such excitement!”

  “Well, I’ve never been on a barge before. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I was even on a boat.”

  Alice unlocked Daisy’s hatch door and made her way down the companionway, dragging one of Christian’s suitcases behind her. She went through the saloon and into her spacious cabin in the bow. Christian struggled after her, dumped holdalls and a backpack on the floor and rushed to the window.

  “God, I’m going to love living here.”

  “Living? I thought you said you were just staying a couple of weeks.”

  “I’ve been thinking about extending my stay. My boss is being so understanding about my break-up.” Christian flitted to the wardrobe, opened both doors, closed them. He p
ulled out drawers and stepped in and out of the en-suite bathroom.

  “Knock, knock.” A familiar voice came from the galley. “Can I come in?”

  “We’re in the cabin,” said Alice.

  A man with a scraggly beard and baggy tartan shorts appeared in the doorway. “Ah ha! Two Haydons in a room.” He grinned.

  “Roddy, you met my brother Christian last night.”

  “I did indeed. I hope you found Joe’s apartment without too much trouble, Christian?”

  “The taxi driver knew exactly where it was, thanks. Your barge, Roddy, is it the same as Alice’s?”

  “My boat is a bit more … lived-in than Alice’s.” Roddy twirled a strand of grey beard. “Otherwise, it’s more or less the same.”

  “Don’t listen to him, his boat is nothing like Daisy. Though it’s not without its own charm. Now, I’ll just show you where things are, Christian, and you can get yourself settled.”

  The men followed Alice into the saloon, and she pointed out power sockets and light switches.

  “It’s alright, Ally. I can work out where everything is.”

  “You can always ask me if you can’t find something,” said Roddy.

  “Thanks,” said Alice. “Christian, my friend Livvie runs The Coffee Pot, just along Sam’s Way, the path by the river. She does great food, especially cakes. You’ll probably end up getting most of your meals from there, like I do.”

  “I can attest to Livvie’s wonderful cakes. And so can my stomach!”

  Alice picked up a pink folder from the coffee table and tucked it under her arm.

  “Not working on a Sunday are you?” said Roddy.

  “I’m just going to pop over to Renton Hall to check in on Eleanor after last night. I’ll take these photos back with me.”

  “What happened last night?”

  Alice told Roddy about Nick Carberry’s demise. “How a perfectly healthy man in his forties was suddenly dead in the woods,” she said, “is a mystery.”

  “Dear girl, I do hope you aren’t getting yourself embroiled in another investigation,” said Roddy. “I’m not sure my nerves can take it.”

  “Another investigation?”

  “Why don’t you come over to my place, Christian? I’ll tell you all about it over a bottle of red.”

  Renton Hall’s front door was wide open. Alice peered inside and called Eleanor’s name, but there was no response. She crept inside. Hastily abandoned drinks lay on the bare floorboards in the entrance area. In the conservatory, fairy cakes sagged and ruby juice from wrinkled strawberries, leaked over the table and onto the floor. It looked like the morning after Miss Haversham’s hen party.

  “Morning, Alice.”

  Alice spun around to find Harry Horton in the doorway. He was dressed in smart grey trousers and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt, but his chin spouted bristles and his eyes were swollen.

  “I’m so sorry.” Alice linked her hands. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I wanted to …” Find out how your cousin died!

  “Give your condolences to Eleanor? That’s thoughtful of you. Eleanor’s at home with Tom and the children. It’s been a dreadful shock for her. For us all of course.”

  Alice followed Harry’s glance through the open doors towards the lake. A line of police tape ran from the bridge, along the paddock and to the outbuilding at the top of the path that had led to a dead body. A uniformed policeman was leading a line of people with bowed heads, as they inched their way across the field.

  “They’re looking for clues,” said Harry covering his eyes with his hand for a moment. “No luck yet.”

  Alice put her hands in her shorts pockets and hunched her shoulders. For the second time that morning, she was dealing with a man on the verge of tears. Just as she was about to comment on the cloudless sky, DI Nathan Salisbury arrived.

  “Good morning, Miss Haydon. Are you here to help with the search?”

  “Er, yes, if that’s what you want me to do.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Harry backed away. “I’m going to organise some lunch for everyone.”

  The last time Alice had worked on a case with Nathan Salisbury, it had been personal. Alice had seen a dead body in the river outside the art gallery where she worked. On top of that, a prize drawing had been stolen from the gallery, the central piece of an exhibition she was organising. Her reputation had been at stake and she had felt compelled to hunt down the offender.

  But this time, she was not going to get involved. She realised it would sound callous, but she needed to know how Nick Carberry’s death was going to affect things. Her job, specifically. She had bills to pay after all.

  “Good to see you again, Alice.” Nathan spoke more quietly. He moved his athletic body closer, a warm smile on his handsome face.

  “You too, Nathan. Though I’m sorry it’s because of that.” Alice nodded to the searchers outside. “What are they looking for?”

  “At this stage, anything. We don’t know how Mr Carberry died and we need some clues.”

  “It was so sudden. But what was he doing out there in the woods in the dark?”

  “Good question. And when we answer that, we may well know who killed him.”

  “What? I thought … How did he die?”

  “Nick Carberry was killed from a single gunshot to the chest. He was murdered.”

  Chapter 4

  A blazing sun threw shafts of light between the lush leaves overhead as Alice drove out of Great Wheaton. Christian fiddled with the radio as Alice contemplated her Tuesday morning. Assuming that Eleanor would put the decorating project on hold, at the very least, after her brother’s death, Alice had spent Monday catching up with Christian. But Eleanor had called the previous evening and asked Alice to start work at Renton Hall the next morning.

  Alice’s plan was to sort through the Carberry’s collection of paintings first. She needed to find out what was there and how many pieces would be useable in the hotel. But after Nick Carberry’s murder, she imagined the house and grounds would be chaotic. Filled with police officers, and ghoulish rubberneckers wanting a glimpse of a murder scene.

  She could not have been more wrong. Calm and serenity enveloped Renton Hall as the Haydon siblings entered the house. There was no evidence of Saturday’s midsummer party – the ground floor rooms were clean and empty. Eleanor Carberry was sitting in a deckchair at the edge of the lake. A Yorkshire terrier, yellow ribbon tied around a topknot on its head, sprung up, surveying Alice with wary eyes. Eleanor turned around. She looked drawn and pale, her wan smile petering out before it reached her eyes.

  “Alice, you’re here. And you’ve brought an assistant.”

  Christian gave a listless wave.

  “Oh no, this is Christian, my brother. He’s staying with me at the moment, so I brought him along to see if he could help. It’s just for today.”

  The dog barked as Christian stepped forward to shake Eleanor’s hand.

  “Shut up, Wilson,” said Eleanor. “Ignore him, he just likes to make his presence felt.” She stroked the dog’s back. “Thank you for coming, Christian. I think Alice will need all the help she can get. Jeremy, our gardener, told me he’s found more paintings in his snug. I didn’t even know they were there. I’m not sure how you’ll whittle down your selection from such a big collection.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to sort them. I just need to collect everything together and assess what you have.”

  A pair of heels clicked on the decking and Devi joined them. The actress’s face was drawn and sallow, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. Her hair was in a ponytail, and even without make-up she was hauntingly beautiful. She carried a canvas bag, which she eased to the ground to the sound of clinking glass.

  “Oh my God, Devi Dutta!” Christian bounded over to the actress. “I just love your movies. I’ve see
n them all. You’re incredible!” He took her hand, pulled it to his lips and kissed it.

  Alice crossed her arms and looked at the ground.

  “Devi, you don’t have to do that,” said Eleanor. “Susan will take care of the empty bottles.”

  “I know, but I can’t sit around watching everybody else working. I want to do something useful.”

  “Here, let me help you.” Christian picked up the bag. “Where do you want it?”

  Devi took Christian in the direction of the recycling area at the side of the house.

  “Will you come with me to Jeremy’s snug please, Alice? Let’s see what he’s found.”

  Eleanor took Alice’s arm and the two women headed over the bridge, the stream bubbling beneath them. They walked along the edge of the paddock, the grass now flattened where the volunteers had scoured for clues. On the other side of the path, the wood ran in a near straight line.

  “My father told me that his father, that’s my grandfather Wilfred, used to take him through the woods and make him name every tree and plant.” Eleanor pulled her mouth into a half moon. “Fortunately, Nick and I were spared that ordeal! Though we always knew how lucky we were to have our own wood.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to say, Eleanor. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “I cried all day yesterday for my darling brother. But Nick would be furious if I didn’t open the hotel on time. So, we carry on.”

  In the daylight, the brick outbuilding was smaller than Alice remembered. And she had missed its carved pale blue wooden doors. Stone steps at the far end led to a platform surrounded by a thin wooden railing.

  “This was a dairy and hayloft once upon a time, until my father cut down the herd and planted more wheat. Now Jeremy uses it to store his equipment, but part of the space is a sitting area where he spends his breaks. Nick and I used to visit him a lot, so we’ve always thought of the building as Jeremy’s snug.”

  They climbed the steps to the loft, which held odd pieces of furniture instead of hay. A tall, broad-shouldered man was holding a framed oil painting towards the light. Jeremy Evans turned the picture around, a warm smile spreading across his tanned face. “What do you think?”