Page 7 of The Missing Page
Lilah and James both snapped their attention to Sir Anthony. A glint of ice-cold fury was in the girl’s eyes while James only looked shocked. Martha Dauntsey, meanwhile, hardly seemed to register the slight.
“Mr. Trevelyan,” said Lilah, “when did my grandfather make this will?”
“It’s dated June of last year,” said the solicitor. “Although he didn’t send it to the office. Miss Dauntsey found it among his papers. But it was properly signed and witnessed.”
“I see,” said Lilah with a thoughtful look.
“Besides, we already know what happened to Rose,” said Sir Anthony, as if neither the solicitor nor his daughter had spoken. “It was all decided quite certainly that summer. The police were involved. She died in a swimming accident.”
Leo wanted to curse the naivete of anyone who had reached Marchand’s age without learning exactly how easily the police could be bamboozled by the simple expedients of coordinated lying, a bit of fast talking, and cold hard cash.
“In fact,” Marchand continued, “I’m prepared to offer Mr. Trevelyan a solution right now. Rose died by misadventure, precisely as the police said. Her mind was sadly unbalanced, and as a result, she went for a swim at a time when she ought to have known the tide would be too strong, however good a swimmer she might have been. All very unfortunate.”
This was the second time Marchand had used the wordimbalance,and Leo’s thoughts caught on it. The late Mr. Bellamy had been imbalanced; the dead girl was imbalanced. But in this context the meaning was clear—nobody spoke of someone’s death by supposed misadventure and simultaneously alluded to their imbalanced mental state unless they meant the person had taken their own life. Before Leo could wonder what evidence might have been presented to the police—a body, a note, a witness—he heard James set his coffee cup back into its saucer with rather more of a clatter than usual. That was all the sign Leo needed. He rose to his feet.
“Well, I’d better be off before Susan worries,” Leo said, addressing James. “Won’t you walk me out?”
As soon as they were outside and at a comfortable distance from the house, Leo spoke. “Get out of there. Come with me. Say you long to see Susan. We’ll have you engaged to my imaginary sister before the night is out.”
James laughed and bumped his shoulder against Leo’s. “I can’t. If my uncle’s last wish was for this to happen, then I can spare a couple of days.”
“Last wish, my arse. He’s not around anymore to get a say in what you do. And that lot in there are a disaster waiting to happen.”
“That’s why I need to stay, though. They need a civilizing presence. Wait.” They had reached the parked car.
“Well, that’s your car,” Leo said awkwardly. “I think I might have stolen it, by the way.”
“No, I don’t mean the car. The tree.”
Leo followed James’s gaze to a bare-branched tree, likely a fruit tree of some kind.
“That didn’t used to be there,” James said. “I’ve spent half the day cataloguing things that are exactly as they were twenty years ago, and now there’s an entire new tree. Who puts a cherry tree next to the garage? And on the north side, too. It can’t get nearly enough sun.”
“Wendy is rubbing off on you with all this gardening wisdom.”
James bumped Leo with his elbow, then seemed to realize that they were standing next to his car.
“Leo. Did you drive my car all the way from Wychcomb St. Mary?”
“Afraid so.” Leo adopted a studiedly casual tone. “Otherwise I would have had to either change trains in Reading or get a taxi to Cheltenham. This was much faster.”
James looked at him, and Leo knew that he was reading between the lines well enough to hear all the want and concern that had fueled Leo’s hurried drive to Cornwall.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Leo said. “I know I’m intruding. And I took your car without permission.”
“I don’t mind. You’re welcome to anything of mine. You know that.”
James had said as much before, although not in so many words. Leo had long since decided not to take that sentiment at face value. James was determined to fling open the door to his cozy life as if Leo could simply walk in and make himself at home. And Leo didn’t know how to explain to James that this wasn’t possible without thoroughly disillusioning the man. “If you won’t come with me, then let me stay here with you.”
James raised his eyebrows. “What excuse would we give to them?” He gestured toward the house.
Leo reached into his pocket and retrieved a blackened metal object. “My carburetor cap. I took the precaution of removing it before turning into the drive. When I leave, I’ll have engine trouble before I reach the road. If you don’t want me to stay, it’ll be a simple matter of screwing the cap back on before I get in the car. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a quarter of an hour, and your cousin will no doubt offer me a room for the night”
“You’ll probably have to bunk with me. Cousin Martha is already short on room.”
“You say that as if it’ll put me off,” Leo said, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”
“Your trip.” James spoke carefully, as he always did when alluding to Leo’s work. “Was it very bad?”
