THROUGH THE GLASS DARKLY - OLD SINS CAST LONG SHADOWS

OLD SINS CAST LONG SHADOWS - EPISODE FIVE

XVI

TESTING MY POWERS OF REASONING

"All is simple if you arrange the facts correctly. We are concerned with the individual who called on him last night. The person admitted through the French doors was a person Casterton knew."

"Two lines of suggestion for solving this problem. One is elliptical. On the side table, pills next to a bottle Old Pulteney, single malt Scotch whisky. Casterton must be ill, and as the girlfriend did not mention anything, we can assume she did not know. Furthermore, it indicates a bleakness of outlook when a man keeps his prescription drugs near his

favourite tipple."

"The other line of approach?" 

"The other strategy is more direct. The room sealed from the interior and was impossible for the intruder escaped unseen. Could be the sweetheart and the killer, had been in cahoots? Endorsed an assailant to escape, how did she seal the room back up without being caught inside?"

"There is something almost indescribable in the way you've just said that. Hope you're not looking at this case from some peculiar angle of your own without sharing?"

"You said, before, the gardener was instructed by Nicholas Casterton to leave the access gate to the public footpath unlocked every Friday. What time was this?"

"Nine o'clock." 

"Rather precise?"

"Always when the church clock chimes, at that time."

"How long to advance to the house -- to get to this window, for instance?"

"Five minutes at the outside."

"What time did she arrive at the night of the crime?"

"She was early."

"Did she say why?"

"The floriculturist was never allowed to speak to her."

"I see."

"What?"

Looking over my shoulder, I raised one eyebrow quizzically. "An opened window and a locked door. Why?"

"I'll tell you why, shall I? His visitor arrived earlier than usual, and his fiancée overhears an argument coming from the study. What happens next? The mystery woman leaves angry and baffled. Casterton is running out of money and wants to cancel their arrangement. He gave her the weapon as a way of paying her, instead of cash. She is not happy about being fobbed off and decides to come back, to confront him again. By the time she gets back to windows, she completely lost the plot. Do they not say there is nothing worse than a woman scorned? With Miss Khalifa in another part of the house, she removes her shoes, goes through the way she had initially left, fatally stabs Casterton and then runs off."

"Why?"

For a moment, DI Allum-Edwards was surprised by the question.

"Difficult to say exactly why she did. Murderers do funny things. The cleverest of them make stupid mistakes sometimes."

"Yes, but why? Why cut off the hand that feeds you? Why are you assuming that he paid for the assignations?"

"s******s. Second stage STD while his fiancée was in the first period."

"Fair point," I nodded. "How did Mia react when she found out that her fiancé was dead?"

"Nothing much," Allum-Edwards sounded almost disappointed.

"What are you thinking?"

"Considering all the possibilities. Like trying on a new jacket. Does this accommodate? No, wrinkles on the shoulder. This one? Yes, that is better -- but not large enough. This other one is too small. So, on and

on -- until I reach the perfect fit -- the truth."

"Who killed him?"

"Too soon to say, wanting to go into the question of who has a motive for wishing Nicholas Casterton dead. Of course, the fiancée. A little obvious that. By the sounds of things, Nicholas Casterton struck me as possibly being a man who had quite a few enemies."

"Looks that way," Allum-Edwards agreed.

"Whoever must have fancied themselves as being pretty safe. We need to find out who this woman is mysterious. The one who visited him for

three hours every Friday."

"So, what do you do think?" 

"Too much of a coincidence. Not everything can be serendipity. There are too many things here, unexplained -- Lady Casterton's murder for one. The deaths must be linked, but how? This whole thing makes a pattern. An itinerary confused at present, but which will gradually clarify I am certain."

"Might not be the normal Friday night guest," Allum-Edwards said sharply, "I don't feel that anything will ever come to be clear. My brain is becoming frazzled."

"Sure, everything will resolve itself in appropriate time."

"Believe so. Wish so. Two murders in quick succession on my watch makes me bad-tempered. Mrs Allum-Edwards doesn't like me when I'm in a mood."

"Well, for the sake of matrimonial harmony, let's pray, I can help you solve this case quickly."

"Let's go and have a look around the grounds before I speak to the victim's fiancée."

On the terrace, we stepped upon a small gravelled path that joined concrete slabs a few feet away. In one spot, yards from its termination, the ground was wet and boggy. The signs of footprints were visible glancing at the varied sizes and indentations into the field and would be complex to pinpoint them to anyone in particular.

"A very foolish young woman," I said, thoughtfully, "to provide us with so much evidence of her presence. Especially as she went at such

lengths to hide her identity."

"The women's shoe prints?"

"Naturally, but I would not be surprised to discover that several women walked this way, as well as men. Seems to be a regular shortcut to the house, but exceptionable to sort out all the footsteps."

The detective inspector nodded with resignation as we followed the route on a little way.

"What you're expecting to find out here? Not worth wasting your time, to go on any further. All gravelled again here, and hard as can be."

My attention fixed on a small house -- a superior summerhouse. A little to the left and ahead of me a gravelled walk ran up to the front door

"Let me just have a look down here," I said.

I went up to the door and walked inside. The place was almost dark. One or two rustic seats. A swing-ball set, and some folded garden furniture.

I dropped to my hands and knees and started crawling about the floor. I shook my head in the disappointment of not finding anything. Finally, I sat back on my heels.

"Nothing," I murmured. "Well, perhaps not to be expected. Meant so much-."

Breaking off, and stiffening all over, I stretched out my hand to one of the chairs, removing something from one side.

"What did you find?"

Smiling, unclosing my hand so that he saw what lay in my palm. Tablets. Taking them from me, and after a final inspection, handed back to me.

"That's methadone," he said quietly.

"Not only taken for what you think it is for?"

"What else?" 

"This medication used to treat severe ongoing pain, such as cancer," I said. "This belongs to a class of opioid or narcotic analgesics. Works to change how your body feels and responds to agony."

"You seem to remember a lot about these?"

"Yes, I do," I said and walked away without an explanation.

                      XVII

MIA AND AZIZ

We walked back to the house together. Before returning inside, I stopped on the emplacement and stood with my back to the house.

"Who inherits all this?"

My words gave him a shock. It was evident that the question of inheritance never come into his head. 

"Never thought, did you?"

"No."

"What you mean by that? No, pointless me asking. Never tell me what you thought, would you?" "Everyone hides something." "Definitely" I smiled back.

"You believe that?"

"More than ever. It is never easy to cover up things from me. Usually, I find out."

"So, I assume," and we walked down some steps to another part of the garden.

Along, to the left enclosed in yew hedges, we sauntered down the middle. Bordered on each side with formal flower beds, led to footpath access. A seat overlooked a goldfish pond and taking another route which wound up the bottom of a wooded slope. In one spot the trees were cleared away, and a bench positioned. There was an impressive view over the countryside, and the agricultural region.

Mia Khalifa came along, glancing sadly ahead of the path. Shoulders slumped and wiping her nose with her handkerchief. At the time a man stepped out from the shrubs: her twin brother, Aziz.

Once they were together, I felt like I had seen them before, somewhere.

Wherefrom, though?

Mia started, and her expression altered a little.

"Made me jump."

Her sibling said nothing.

"What do you want, Aziz?"

"To make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, positive."

"Then, there is no need for me to stay."

"You're not leaving me to face all this on my own, are you?"

"Want me to drop anchor?" 

"The local constabulary will want to speak to you."

"Please don't go." Mia turned back again.

"Please hold back, if -- is that makes any difference."

"Yes," Aziz articulated. 

The bond between them made me uncomfortable. The love for each other, unconditional.

"Don't you get it, he had to die?" He enunciated suddenly.

The question floated up to us, hanging for a moment, and then drift away.

"All so horrible," Mia's voice, deep and loud.

"No more monstrous than the life you were experiencing."

"Did you, Aziz?" A moment's silence.

They sat down on the seat neither of them knowing quite what to say next.

"No, I didn't." His voice, empty and hopeless. "He was dead when I got there."

Mia shivered. "Of course, I believe you. If you did not who did?" Her voice, unconvincing.

"We should have walked away. People would have said we were crazy, not to walk away."

"Perhaps we -- are mad! We will leave here and sell the house. His aunt's money will clear his

commitments. He's left me nothing."

"He's given you your freedom."

"For how much longer?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lady Casterton choked to death and now Nicholas," she murmured. "Maybe someone is

targeting the family."

"You're not a Casterton," he told her, "and now you never will be."

She sobbed out brokenly. "Such a relief,

Nicholas is dead. Now, we can all be a part of the real world, instead of being bullied and beaten."

Aziz took Mia's face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. I sensed Allum-Edwards gasp beside me.

"Aziz! Someone might see us!"

"I don't care. Now, at last, we can be ourselves."

"Not now. Not now, when it is all over, and behind us -- then -- "

They dropped their voices as they talked, making it hard for us to listen. We followed.

"Say nothing."

"What? After what we've seen?"

"What?"

"Siblings kissing each other passionately."

"Did you?"

"What is going on?" The indomitable grey eyes met mine. "Not accustomed to having my word doubted."

"I do not doubt your statement. The proof was all to see that Mia and Aziz Khalifa aren't brother and sister."

"What?"

"‘Now, at last, we can be ourselves' Aziz had said. Mia answered by saying, 'not now. Not now, when it's all over and behind us.' Must not show our hand. Otherwise, we won't find out what the hell they are up too."

"Don't understand?" Allum-Edwards admitted.

"There is more to this than just the murders of the Casterton. Has to be!”

"Very well," Allum-Edwards acknowledged. "Do it your way. Let us pray you to know what you are doing?"

"So, do I."

We joined Mia and Aziz by the pool. AllumEdwards introduced me, and we all shook hands, warmly.

"I wonder if I could ask you a few questions, Mr Khalifa?"

"You are quite the hero around here," he said, looking at me inquiringly, 

"Thank you. You're exceedingly kind to say so."

"Too modest."

Embarrassed, I tried to move on. "I would like to know what do you think about what has happened?" Khalifa's face deepened in colour.

"My sister was treated abominably by Nicholas Casterton. Broke her arm and gave her a disgusting illness. Wished I had stabbed the bastard."

"Did you?"

"Of course, I didn't," he snapped, standing up, he strode up and down in his excitement. "Good God, man. Do you suppose I could stand to one side and let Mia be treated like that? Unfortunately, someone beat me to it, and when I find out who, I

will shake their hand."

"Can I ask when you last saw him?"

"After dinner."

"How was he?"

"Unusually quiet."

"Miss Khalifa?" I pressed, turning my attention to Mia.

"Silent," she reiterated.

"Now Mr Khalifa, I am interested in what kind of man Nicholas Casterton was?"

He sat down again. "Would you?"

"Of course."

"He was a complete and utter sod. Mind you, he had a pleasant way about him, and Mia fell for his charm. Always magnetic, but he deceived people with his manners. A reserved and calculated planner, and he had a wicked temper, as Mia can testify. I am bitter -- I am unduly prejudiced against Nicholas. Had appeal, as I said. Could feel it. Knew -- always knew -- the essential man behind the facade. Evil, cruel, and malignant and a chancer!"

"Yes, I'm certain."

"The real, Nicholas Casterton, had to be first. The main things he could not stand -- not being number one. There was a cold, egotistical devil in him capable of being stirred at any moment." "Do you reciprocate, Miss Khalifa?" She stared at me, startled.

"Impulsive, pretty calculating. Chased me, initially, but I did not like Nicholas, and he did not interest me, to begin with. Still, when he found out my father had money difficulties, he offered to clear his creditors for my hand in marriage."

"Thought she was mad," Aziz interrupted. "Did he pay them off?" Glances exchanged.

"No, he did not," Mia said,

"Sorry."

"Did either of you see or hear Nicholas Casterton after dinner?" Allum-Edwards asked.

"I heard him,"

"How do you mean?"

"Came out to the terrace to have a smoke-"

"What time was that?"

"About nine while I walked up and down smoking in front of that window. That's when I overheard Nicholas arguing with someone-"

"Surely you couldn't, from where you were standing?"  I enquired Aziz blushed.

"Went as far as the corner."

"Ah!"

"I saw a woman disappear into the bushes."

"What did she look like?"

"Couldn't say she was wearing a hooded anorak."

"Did you think it was odd in this warm weather?"

"Didn't think about it."

"Can you remember what was said?"

"No, sounded quite ordinary."

"Thank you," I turned my attention to Mia

Khalifa. "Are you able to talk about what happened?" Mia's chin shot up.

"Tell me about the day you discovered that he had given you a sexually transmitted disease?"

"I visited my doctor, thinking I was pregnant. Walked into the doctor's room full of excited anticipation, came out feeling devastated."

"You confronted him about it?"

"Yes, I did. Nicholas responded by beating me about the body, dislodging two of my teeth and breaking my arm. And after that, every time I brought it up, he hit me, repeatedly. Struck me so many times

I became almost oblivious to it." "Did you tell the police?" She laughed, mockingly.

"Of course, I didn't. I was scared," Mia took a breath, before continuing. "My brother had started living here when I found out and was incandescent with rage. It took me all my powers of persuasion to stop him from doing something stupid."

"Like what?"

"Like killing him."

"Did you?" Allum-Edwards asked.

"My brother didn't do it and nor did I." She seethed with anger.

Tactfully ignoring them, I crouched beside the fish-pond, took off my jacket, rolled up my sleeve and lowered my hand into the water. Despite all my precautions, the mud eddied and swirled and when I pulled my hand out, in my hand was a knife, like the one found in Nicholas Casterton's body.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             XVIII

THE HEAD GARDENER

After Allum-Edwards had bagged the new-found piece of evidence, and Mia and Aziz walked back to the house. Alone, in the dusk, I settled down on the stone chair.

This case is indeed turning out to be an intriguing one. A situation that threw up one puzzle after another.

How did Lady and Nicholas Casterton die?

How was the Khalifa's involved in all this duplicity?

If they were not brother and sister, what is there a connection?

Cousins?

Lovers?

Friends?

Are they so alike?

Not enough answers.

Then, Nicholas Casterton's financial mess.

Proved to be an avenue of danger, his unrequited love of money. This had steered him away from a prudent and cautious path, not weighing up the pros and cons of his actions. He had cared for the family opulence too much. At the end of his life, all else in the shadows.

A man like Casterton knew only one thing -- himself. Nothing of the dangers and hazards surrounding him -- the million contradictory interests and relationships of life. No, only he mattered. A dark mystery. A maze of conflicting passions and desires and aptitude. He now terminated in disaster.

I did not measure footprints or analyse cigarette-ash, go down on my stomach and crawl around the floor to examine every detail. I sat back in my armchair and shut my eyes and found I always produce a solution to most problems by seeing them with the eyes of my mind.

"Can I help you?" 

I lifted my head and saw a tall man of about fifty. He had dark hair streaked with grey, a thin face and a sneering mouth. Bad-tempered and bitter. His eyes looked secretive. Something I thought, distinctly different about them. I could tell he would like his eyes to possess a cold, penetrating stare, but it did not come off: his air of spurious authority he wore like a threadbare cloak. A nonentity, I judged, even, in given circumstances -- such as now -- a little nonentity, but ready to collapse like a pricked balloon at the first contact with real certainty.

"I don't know, can you?"

"My name is Reynolds. My official title is landscape horticulturist!" His voice started as a high squeak and then went down an octave as he regained his poise. "Who are you?"

I cut him short mid-sentence, drew my business card from my wallet and handed over the small rectangular ID. "I'm an advisor for the Suffolk Constabulary, and I am assisting them in the investigation into Nicholas Casterton's death."

He read it. "I am familiar, of course, with your name. I mean, who has not around these parts. You said you're looking into" -- he stalled -- "Nicholas Casterton's ending."

He said the last three words peculiarly -- as though an effort to answer them.

"Yes, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

Reynolds shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What sort?"

The sneer, in his speech, palpable. I took no notice.

"Where were you when all this kicked off?"

"In my gardener's lodge on the east side of the grounds," he gestured.

"Isn't that where the public footpath ends?" "Not finishes, turns away." Reynolds corrected. "A gate keeps out nosey-parkers."

"What about letting in mysterious women on a

Friday night?" Silence.

Eventually, laughed.

"Under strict instructions from Mr Casterton."

"Did you ever see what this woman looked like?"

"Not really, no."

"I don't understand?"

"I caught her glance at me a couple of times."

"Can you describe what you remember about her?"

"I already told Allum-Edwards," he grumbled.

"Would you mind explaining?" I requested. He sighed. "Always negative."

"What do you mean?" I repeated.

"Neutral. Soft dark hair eyes a pale light blue, bloodless face, and a sensitive mouth. A look you found acceptable but would find it hard to remember if you met say, in different clothes.

"She turned up on the night in question?"

"Yes, and she left within minutes. Normally, stayed for about three hours. How Miss Khalifa never noticed what went on is beyond me?"

"And the time?"

"About eight-thirty."

"What time did she leave?"

"About eight-forty-five."

"You watched her depart?"

"Yes."

"Why did she go so soon?"

"Sorry, sir. Cannot help you, I'm afraid."

"Did you think this seemed curious?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see anyone else?"

He shook his head. "No one else. Not another soul."

"Did Nicholas Casterton have many enemies?"

"Quite a few. A difficult man to like."

"You didn't?"

"I'm not speaking for myself. I never had any disagreements with Mr Casterton. He always found me dependable." A strange grudging note in the gardener's voice puzzled me.

"What about Miss Khalifa -- "

I stuck to continuing to coerce him into additional revelations.

"Mr Casterton extravagant, and always in and out of debt. Some other trouble as well I think-- no idea what. They quarrelled. That is all. One of the few people in the world he could not wind up. My employer paid me so much a year. His rages and his odd behaviour did not interest me. I ignored them

and just got on with my job."

"Thank you, Reynolds, for your honesty."

I started walking back to the house to turn away from him and then paused. "Where did this woman come from?"

"Why should I know, sir?"

I did not reply, for a moment, deliberating, a calculated move on my part. I wanted to goad Reynolds into more disclosures. An impatient type, wanting me to hurry up and finish.

"Oh, come on, Reynolds," I smiled. "No games."

I had thought his forced composure unnatural. I broke him down as he became more uncomfortable and nervous.

"What you mean, sir?"

"You know, Reynolds. You thought she'd committed the crime."

Embarrassment fell like a weapon of the Gods, capricious as they are. Torment for the meek, the ones not bold from immunity. Reynolds found this cataclysmic; his face burned bright enough to outshine the sun and his mind scattered like a scared rabbit.

Eventually, he spoke.

"I went after her."

"Where to?"

"The railway station."

"Did she board the train?"

"I'm not confident."

"What do you mean?"

"She went into the ladies but never came out."