Kith and Kill

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

‘She dead. My lady’s dead.’ Dahlia Sullivan, Sophia Egerton’s aged housekeeper, stumbled into the kitchen, where the rest of the family sat around the table eating breakfast. Eric Chambers carefully replaced his coffee cup in its saucer before he stood up. ‘Dead? You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ the housekeeper snapped, her tone sharp and only just this side of what was permissible in an old family retainer.

Dahlia had been with Sophia for years, and gradually, over the years, the friendship had strengthened. Both women were failed actresses. Dahlia had come to work for Sophia as a temporary measure between acting jobs. That had been half a century ago. There had been no more acting jobs. Not for Dahlia, anyway, though Sophia’s rich and indulgent husband had been happy to provide the financial backing necessary for vehicles for his wife until she had chosen to turn her energetic attentions to his failing fashion business.

Adam Chambers, Eric’s twin, also stood up. ‘I must go to her.’

‘No, you mustn’t,’ Dahlia contradicted. ‘Besides, I’ve locked her bedroom door.’ Pensively, she added. ‘I think someone should call the police.’

They all stared at her: the twins, their elder sister Caroline Templeton, Sophia’s sister Alice Pickford and Sophia’s daughter Penelope Chambers.

Alice piped up in her querulous voice, its tone a little higher than usual. ‘Call the police? And get all our names in the newspaper? Surely not?’

Eventually, Penelope regained her voice and said what they were all thinking. Or nearly all. ‘Mother’s clearly just died in her sleep. She was ninety. A wonderful age. It’s the most natural thing in the world that she should die now that the excitement of her birthday is over.’ Penelope pulled out her mobile. ‘I’ll ring Mother’s GP and then I’ll go up and see her. After that, I suppose I ought to ring one of the local funeral homes. I wonder if Mother had a preference. She never said.’

‘You’re not listening,’ Dahlia said, her voice strained. ‘I said someone should call the police and the police is what I meant. Your mother didn’t die a natural death.’

Alice let out a shaky laugh. ‘Don’t be absurd, Dahlia. I thought your days of being a drama queen were behind you. When you say to call the police you really can’t have given any thought to what a catastrophe it would be for the family. Do you want us all with our faces in the newspapers?’

‘Auntie’s right,’ said Penelope. ‘Of course Mother died a natural death. You’re being melodramatic. Please stop. You’re upsetting the boys. You know how fond they were of their grandmother.’

The ‘boys’ were all of thirty and neither looked about to burst into tears at the news. In fact, they seemed to be staring into the distance, perhaps already seeing pound signs and wondering how much the old woman had left them.

‘If you won’t ring the police, I will.’ Dahlia turned and marched into the back hall. A few moments later they heard her voice demanding to be put through to the police.

The family just sat and looked at one another, Alice’s fingers occupied in crumbling her toast. The twins no longer seemed to be calculating pound signs. Instead, they stared round the table, as if calculating probable alibis.

Dahlia Sullivan returned some minutes later. ‘They’re coming,’ she said.

Strangely, no one questioned her as to why she was so insistent that Sophia Egerton had been murdered. But then, she knew them all so well...

***