Murder Most Familiar (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) Read online

  Pattie touched the stone. It was solidly in place. She doubted it had always been that way. Was it possible that Matthew had seen a loose stone and removed it, discovering something so intriguing that he excavated the earth to find out more? It would explain the recent mortar, sealing the stone back into place, and the odd excavation. Angus had already said that the lighting in the basement was a perfect emulation of natural light – why have windows at all?

  “Can I help you?”

  Pattie jerked, startled. She stood and turned around to see Angus behind her, dressed in pyjamas and a dressing gown. He looked very white, almost shocked.

  “Good morning,” she said, smiling politely. “I was just exploring the house.”

  “Is that necessary?” asked the young man.

  “Angus … Is there something I should know about? Forgive me for saying, but you’ve been reacting quite strangely. And you seem to be under rather a lot of pressure.”

  The young man remained rigid for a moment. Then he seemed to visibly relax, as though giving up on an act, and beckoned for Pattie to follow him inside. There was a side door that led into the kitchen, where he put on the kettle for a pot of tea.

  They sat at the table and talked.

  “I have been under a lot of stress lately,” Angus admitted quietly. “It started a few months ago. I saw you looking at the stonework…”

  “Yes. It looks like a stone was removed, then fixed back into place. And that seems to have inspired your boss to excavate around the back of the cottage. What did he find?”

  “A hidden room,” Angus replied. “A second basement next to the first, but completely detached – no doors or windows at all. These old houses, they have basements that are basically just holes cut into the earth: there are no floors or walls, just compact earth. Fine for back in the day, but not what people want nowadays. This second room, it was even worse, almost like a tomb … We think that the basement used to be twice as big, and the original owner walled off part of it. They did a convincing job.”

  “Why did they wall it off?” asked Pattie. “What did you find in there?”

  Angus stood to make the tea – but really it was an excuse to turn away. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. It’s not my place. And honestly, I don’t really understand it…”

  “Is it connected to these threats against Matthew somehow?”

  Angus turned and rubbed his face with his hands. He seemed torn between keeping silent and revealing something. Was it out of loyalty to Matthew, or was he tortured by his own demons?

  Finally he said, “I’ve very sorry, Mrs Lansbury. This is not something I can talk about. I’ll speak with Mister Conrad and see if he’s willing to share it with you, but it’s not my place to do it myself. It could be related to the letters, or it could be nothing; either way, I know that Mister Conrad is being very protective about this information.”

  “I can’t help if I don’t know all the facts,” Pattie said flatly. “You can tell him that for me.”

  “I will. Here’s your tea; please help yourself to breakfast and anything else you’d like. I have a few things to arrange before Mister Conrad wakes up.”

  He went to leave, but Pattie called out to him. “Angus.”

  “Yes…?”

  “This thing about the secret room – is it something potentially illegal?”

  He paused for a moment, his hand on the doorway. Then he said, “It’s not a crime, Mrs Lansbury. It’s a curse.”

  Chapter 6

  Pattie enjoyed her tea, and a second cup, as she waited in the kitchen. She heard the sounds of quiet discussion in the rooms above, then a running shower and other movements. About twenty minutes later, Angus came down fully dressed.

  “Mister Conrad and I will be going out for a while.”

  “Did you speak with him about this mysterious room?” Pattie asked, puzzled.

  “He won’t require you to accompany him this time, but feel free to wait in the house in the meantime,” said Angus, as though not hearing her question. A minute later the front door opened and closed, and both men were out of the house without saying another word, leaving Pattie alone.

  “Well, I never…”

  Obviously Matthew had no intention of sharing his secret. Pattie was a woman of deep curiosity, much like the cats she loved so dearly, but she wouldn’t snoop unless there was a good reason. In this case, she was working for a man who was hiding something that could have direct relevance to the case. Not to mention that Pattie couldn’t abide secrets.

  In the seclusion of the near-empty home, Pattie went back down the lounge. Angus had first shown his distress there, and if that loose stone had led anywhere, it would be in the vicinity of that basement room.

  Pattie switched on the lights and sat on the couch, carrying a freshly brewed tea and a plate with a croissant. The clock had yet to strike nine. Whilst sipping her tea, thinking and observing, Pattie waited for inspiration to come.

  It didn’t take long. Grimoire the cat padded down the stairs and trotted under the coffee table, brushing the underside of the glass surface with his tail. Pattie realised that Angus hadn’t turned white when they entered the lounge. It had been when Grimoire first showed up. Why? Did the cat hold a secret?

  Pattie finished her croissant and observed the roly-poly tortoiseshell. He sniffed the ground for a bit, then walked over to the media cabinet. That corner again! This wasn’t just curiosity; there was a scent he’d picked up.

  Getting up with creaking joints, Pattie checked out the media cabinet. It was seven feet tall with built-in shelves and cupboards, and housed the large TV set and associated paraphernalia. It was also on rails. Pattie pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she noticed a discreet switch on the side. When she pushed it, the cabinet rolled to the side by itself to reveal a doorway.

  Well. She wouldn’t have put it past Matthew to have a hidden room somewhere within his fancy renovated home. And no wonder Grimoire had been so intent: he leapt into the darkened room and pounced on something – probably a mouse.

  Pattie stepped into the room. She felt the wall for a light switch, but found none. She had to see by the light coming from the lounge behind her.

  The room was fairly small, and had earthen floor and walls. It had the feeling of a dungeon. There was the outline of a few pieces of furniture, which evidently had been moved so that someone could cover the floor with a protective plastic sheet, then put it back on top. Pattie found a large storage chest and a very dusty display plinth, on top of which was a modern lockbox. The chest was empty, but the lockbox looked brand new. Pattie went to move the box, and at first thought it was nailed to the plinth. Actually it was simply very, very heavy. She carefully hauled it into the lounge.

  When she opened it, she was astonished to see a golden statuette of a lion. It was enormously heavy and very elegantly carved. The lion sat on its haunches and looked majestic, peering upward from the cushion of its regal mane. It was a little tarnished, but otherwise exquisite.

  On the bottom of the statue were the initials H.R.H. R.C.dL, Gaillard, 1199. Nine hundred years old! But those initials … It couldn’t be…!

  Pattie went to the kitchen, where she’d left her purse, and took out her mobile phone. Elliott had given it to her as a gift to try to bring her into the modern age, but she was a stubborn old mule … Still, technology had its uses. There was supposed to be a camera built into the thing … There it was! Pattie took pictures of the statuette, which shone beautifully in the light from the windows. Then she put it back into the lockbox, returned it to the secret room, and closed the hidden entrance, making sure that Grimoire wasn’t trapped in there.

  Actually he was in the kitchen with a mouse in his mouth. Pattie shooed him out the back door, then sat down to think.

  Chapter 7

  Her mobile had a missed called from Clara Rosswell at the B&B. When Pattie called back, Clara seemed distracted.

  “Oh, hello Patricia. I called because Ben s
aid you’d asked about our lodger?”

  “That’s right. Someone has made a threat against someone in the village, and I wanted to rule out outsiders.”

  “Well, we have one man staying with us. He seemed okay – a French man, used to be a winemaker. He’s pre-paid for a week, but last night he went out and didn’t come back. We were starting to wonder if it wasn’t a bit suspicious after all? I’m just not sure what to do.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Pattie told her gratefully. “I won’t ask for his name, but did he give you any indication as to why he might be in Little Hamilton?”

  “I think he mentioned he was here for the history,” Clara replied, sounding confused. “But I didn’t think we had much history out here. It’s just farms and countryside. Maybe that’s what he meant?”

  “Maybe,” Pattie replied, “but I would suggest you be cautious. Someone has been sending letters threatening to kill somebody. It might be best if you could make an excuse to send him packing, for your own safety.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “Possibly not – but it would be irresponsible of me not to let you in on my suspicions. Could you give me a call if he returns?”

  “He left his bags here, so I’m sure he’ll come back at some point. We’ll call you if he does. Should I call the police?”

  “I’m going to see someone at the station about it now,” Pattie told her. “If they think any action needs to be taken, I’m sure they’ll come right to you. Thanks for calling, Clara.”

  “Stay safe, Patricia.”

  Chapter 8

  Pattie had called D.C. Juliette Palmer and asked for her to come to Cliffton Cottage a couple of hours later. Then Pattie went home to fetch something she thought might be useful – or rather, someone.

  When she returned to the Cottage, she noticed from the expensive car parked outside that Matthew Conrad had returned. Juliette must have also arrived, because Pattie could hear raised voices coming from the kitchen.

  “I don’t care what you think is acceptable! If you want help from the police, then you have to treat them with respect! I am not here for your entertainment, Mister Conrad!”

  “Am I interrupting?” asked Pattie, walking into the kitchen. Matthew and Juliette were stood nose to nose, clearly having a disagreement. Angus waited at the back of room, looking uncomfortable. “Why don’t we all sit somewhere and relax, hmmm?”

  “What’s that you have there?” asked Michael, pointing to the plastic box Pattie was holding by a handle.

  “I brought a friend for Grimoire.”

  They retired to Matthew’s plush study. It wasn’t long ago that they had all sat together in this room to discuss another case. That hadn’t ended particularly well, with all other parties suspicious of Matthew’s involvement in a case of multiple cat-nappings. Pattie still suspected that Conrad’s business empire had some less-than-legal initiatives. But now was not the time.

  Pattie opened the pet carrier and lifted out a beautiful white cat with pale blue eyes. “This is Dove,” she said. “I thought we may need her. Dove used to belong to a behavioural therapist in Leeds, before the owner was unfortunately killed in an accident. I happened to know the owner’s best friend, who brought the cat for me to re home. Maybe it was years working in an environment of nurturing and acceptance, but Dove has always had a calming effect on me. It seems to work with other people, too. Juliette, maybe you’d like a cuddle?”

  The Detective Constable looked at the gentle cat sceptically. “Mrs Lansbury, I—”

  “She doesn’t bite. Most of the time she barely moves. Please.”

  Juliette accepted the limp, acquiescent form of the cat and plonked her onto her knees. Dove turned around to face Juliette and then lowered into a sleepy crouch, closing her eyes slowly.

  “She’s very trusting,” said Juliette softly. “Her fur is so soft!”

  “Dove has an almost magical calming effect. Do you feel it?”

  Juliette lifted an eyebrow. “I’d rather just talk about why I’m here, if you don’t mind.”

  Pattie nodded. “Matthew, forgive me, but I discovered your hidden room in the basement. Would you like to talk about what I found in there?”

  “Angus already told me that he slipped up about a few things,” Matthew replied in a hard tone, casting a sly glance at his assistant. “I suppose if you’ve been snooping around, I may as well let you in on the secret. A moment, please.”

  Matthew left the kitchen and returned a minute later with the lockbox. He opened it and took out the golden lion statuette.

  “Did you figure out what this is?” he asked Pattie.

  “There’s an inscription on the bottom”, she replied, nodding. “H.R.H, His Royal Highness. R.C.dL would be the initials of Richard the First of England, also known as Coeur de Lion: the Lionheart. Gaillard I’m sure refers to Château Gaillard in Normandy, the château that was built a few years before Richard’s death. There’s only ruins there now. My guess is that the statue was a gift from somebody upon completion of the château, or perhaps as a symbolic gesture of loyalty from a nobleman in the recently-conquered Normandy.”

  Juliette stroked Dove the cat quietly, saying nothing, but she raised an eyebrow. Pattie thought that she must be impressed at her knowledge of British history. Well, Pattie had had many years to read since her retirement. And when she wasn’t running around on wild goose chases, she hoped to read a lot more!

  Matthew was more vocal. “Astounding! Do you know, I had to make discreet enquiries for months before I could get close to the truth about this thing. As it happens, you were exactly right about the inscriptions and the château. Unfortunately we don’t know who made the statue, or who gave it to the King, but it was surely a gift and has been kept safe every since.”

  “I presume it’s very valuable,” Juliette said quietly.

  Matthew grinned. “This thing is twenty kilograms of solid gold. In basic value for the gold alone, it’s easily worth five hundred thousand pounds. Factor in its historical value and it’s priceless.”

  “Presumably the original owner of Cliffton Cottage was very wealthy, and acquired it somehow,” said Pattie. “Then hid it here in the house. Perhaps the owner died before they could tell anyone about it. Back then it wasn’t unusual to die young or suddenly.”

  “That’s my guess,” Matthew replied. “But I’m not sure we’ll ever know. Needless to say, there must be absolutely no mention or written record of this conversation outside of this room. That goes for police files too, blondie.”

  “Maybe you should pass him the cat,” Pattie said to Juliette.

  Juliette grit her teeth against anger. “I think I’ll hang onto him for a minute.”

  “It’s cursed.”

  The two women turned to Angus, who thus far hadn’t said a word. Matthew rolled his eyes and went to pour himself a whiskey.

  “Can you explain that, Angus?” asked Pattie.

  The young man walked towards the table. “When Mister Conrad asked me to research the statue, I came across a strange poem that’s attributed to a contemporary of Richard the First’s court. Here.”

  He passed them a print-out that he pulled from his pocket. It read:

  The King shall cometh to possesse a lion;

  The Lion shall value the king.

  A worlde of wealthe in worthe,

  Tho naught but misfortune to bringe.

  “That ‘English’ gives me a headache,” muttered Juliette.

  Angus stood beside them to examine the words. “The ‘King’ and the ‘Lion’ are the same – Richard the Lionheart. The ‘lion’ and the ‘king’, with lower case letters, are the same: a ‘kingly’ lion. It says that the statue’s worth a fortune, but will only bring bad luck. And it’s true: the statue’s cursed.”

  “Nonsense,” said Matthew from around his glass.

  “It’s true,” Angus insisted. “The day I found that loose stone, a tree collapsed onto one of the landscaper
s and nearly killed him. Every since then I’ve had nothing but bad luck: the car was stolen, my auntie died of a heart attack … The roof collapsed as we were renovating the lounge, costing us a fortune and nearly burying one poor man alive. My, um … girlfriend broke up with me last week. Now there are these death threats!”

  “That’s a lot of bad luck, Angus, and I’m sorry,” said Pattie. “But it doesn’t prove that there’s a curse.”