Rosie's Diamond - Chapters 16 to 20
The story so far: The McKay brothers had lost all their money playing pool and needed to get some more.
The story so far: The McKay brothers had lost all their money playing pool and needed to get some more.
They knew that Rosemary van der Velde lived alone in Wulfrum Manor so breaking in should be easy. They found a small window that was easy to force open and Mark was small enough to get through it leaving Martin waiting outside. He heard a shot and jumped up to the window only for it to smash down on his hands breaking every finger and leaving him hanging there until the police arrived. The police find no one else inside other than Rosemary and Mark's body. There was no sign of the murder weapon and the only thing that the police were sure of was that Rosemary did not do it.Rosemary discovers that her husband Rod, before he died, was responsible for the deaths of two men in South Africa who had paid attention to her. Could he somehow be involved in the shooting of Mark McKay?
Chapter Sixteen
"Morning boss," Bill Allington looked up as Gavin Groves came in.
"Morning Bill. Anything on the shooting yet?"
"There certainly is, although nothing to help us very much – just technical stuff."
Groves waited for him to continue.
"We were right about Mrs. Van der Velde's gun, it definitely wasn't the one used. The lab is pretty sure that the one used was an antique. They are fairly certain that it was a 36 caliber double action percussion revolver made by a company called Savage. There were approximately twenty thousand of them made between 1861 and 1865, of which twelve thousand were bought by the U.S. government."
He looked up from his notes to find Groves staring back at him with a look of bewilderment.
"That would explain the size of the wound, but where the hell is the weapon and who fired it? Apart from that, how come a gun that old still worked?"
"You're asking me? You're the inspector."
"Thanks Bill."
"Any ideas?"
"I suppose its back to Wulfrum Manor and see where that takes us. We've got nothing else. Give her a call and see when would be convenient for her."
Allington reached for the phone as Groves, with a shake of his head, turned and left the office.
Ruth and Gerald had barely sat down when the telephone rang. They all watched Rosemary as she picked it up.
"Hello?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
"I'm home all day."
"Yes, that will be fine."
"Good bye."
She put the phone back down to see three quizzical faces looking at her. She was tempted to say nothing but decided to tell them.
"That was the police."
The looks remained on all three faces. She smiled.
"There's no problem, they just need to call round and check a few things."
All three faces relaxed and she sat back down. It was so comforting to realise that all three of these people really cared for her.
Even Gerald. Perhaps she was more pleased about that than she cared to admit. Perhaps what Michael had said earlier was possible; maybe she would now be able to get on with her life.
She wasn't aware that she was smiling until Michael said, "What are you so happy about?"
The smile faded.
"Tea anyone?" she said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. She could have called Connie but felt she needed to leave the room for a few minutes to avoid having to answer Michael's question and being embarrassed.
Again the colour of her cheeks did not go unnoticed by Michael but he was not sure what had caused it, he could only speculate.
A little over two hours after the telephone call Groves and Allington turned into the driveway and drove up to the Manor's front door.
Before they even rang the bell Connie swung the huge, heavy, polished oak door open.
"That was quick, Connie," said Allington.
"I saw you coming from the bedroom window," she gesticulated upwards with her head. "Come in, I believe Mrs. Van der Velde is expecting you."
She led them down the hallway and rapped on the lounge door, pushing it open without waiting for an answer from within.
"Inspector Groves and Sergeant Allington, ma'am," she announced after mentally deciding to announce them in order of rank.
After observing the obligatory pleasantries Rosemary invited them to sit down. She did not offer them tea. As she had guests, she wanted the visit to be as short as possible.
"How may I help you, gentlemen?"
Groves gave a slight cough to clear his throat. "We will be returning your Smith and Wesson shortly. It was not the weapon used and we have had it confirmed, just as you told us, that it has not been fired in years."
"I'm certainly pleased to hear that, but I'm sure you could have told me that on the telephone."
"Of course we could but we now know, with a good degree of certainty, the type of weapon used to kill Mark McKay. It was an old percussion revolver. When I say old, I do mean old. It was over a hundred years old."
The look on Rosemary's face caused him to pause.
"Mrs. Van der Velde?" he said in a tone that made it a question. Again all eyes were directed at Rosemary.
Rosemary frowned but did not speak.
"What is it, Rosie?" Michael's verbal nudge did the trick.
"I had forgotten all about it but many years ago Rod purchased an antique gun that he then had mounted in a glass case and kept in the library. I thought that I had left it in South Africa, but I suppose its possible that it could have been packed and shipped over. I haven't seen it since I arrived here but I do still have several unpacked crates in the basement. It could be down there."
The inspector was intrigued.
"Do you recall the make?"
"No, I don't."
"Could the manufacturer have been a company called Savage?"
Again she paused.
"Yes, yes I think it was." This time she needed no prompting. "I remember thinking what an apt name it was for a gun. Even though I own one I have always found them offensive."
Groves and Allington exchanged glances.
Groves looked back at Rosemary. "May we take a look?"
"Of course."
They had already looked around the basement, as had the crime scene officers, but as the door leading to the basement had been well secured they had only had a cursory look around. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed and Rosemary had confirmed this.
"I'll have to get the key from the kitchen." All five of them got up to follow her.
Connie was rolling out some pastry as they went in and apart from looking up ignored them and carried on with her pastry making..
Rosemary went over to where the basement key was hung. The hook was empty. She turned back.
"The key's missing." She was genuinely surprised. "It was here the other day."
"It's in the drawer," Connie called across the kitchen. "Remember, you told me it would be safer if we kept it out of sight."
Rosemary sighed, "Of course I did. I completely forgot, there's been so much going on lately." She opened the drawer and took out the key.
Unlocking the basement door she opened it and, turning on the lights, led the way down the stairs. The basement was huge but was merely used for storage. There was plenty of space left. It was illuminated by a dozen bare light bulbs, all hanging down from the ceiling. Two of them had blown, but had had hardly any effect on the lighting.
There was very little down there except for the eight unopened packing cases which were stacked in four groups of two. Considering all the floor space Groves couldn't understand why they were stacked on top of each other. He didn't ask. He wasn't in the mood for female logic.
The fact that the crates were on top of each other suggested that they were not as heavy as they appeared to be. "Would you mind if we lifted the top crates down?" He was looking at the crates but it was obvious that the question was directed at Rosie.
"Please do."
At that point he was glad that Michael and Gerald were there. This time his question was directed at them. "Gentlemen, would you mind giving the Sergeant and myself a helping hand?"
Both men stepped forward.
The first two crates were still sealed and would have been easy for just two men to lift down had they not been so large and cumbersome. They were not heavy. The two crates underneath were also still sealed. The only thing that showed up were straight lines of dust where the top crates had been stacked slightly crookedly on the bottom ones.
The third one, however, was a lot heavier and they struggled to get it off and lower it safely to the floor. When the stood up they saw that the seal on the lower crate had been broken and it appeared that it had been opened. Groves lifted the lid. Nothing inside seemed to have been moved.
"Are you sure that you have never opened any of these crates?" He was standing next to Rosemary.
"I'm certain."
"Do you have a manifest?"
"Yes I do, but there should be a copy in each crate."
Groves searched through the loose packing on the top but found nothing.
"Here it is," said Allington, pulling an envelope from the underside of the lid. He didn't hand it to his superior but opened the envelope and took the list from it. Looking down the listings he came to 'antique pistol, boxed.'
"This is the crate, it's in here somewhere."
Before the question could be asked, Rosemary anticipated it and said, "Go ahead."
As they started to empty the crate they soon found that everything was individually wrapped.
"Do you remember how big it was?" Groves did not want to have to unwrap everything.
Rosemary framed her hands. "As far as I remember it was about this big."
Groves nodded.
They had taken out around two-thirds of the packages before they pulled one out that was something near the size that Rosemary had described.
"Looks like this could be it," Allington said, handing it to Rosemary. "What do you think?"
"That seems to be the right size."
"May we open it?"
She handed the package back, which Allington took as permission to go ahead.
It didn't take long.
The key to the box was taped to the top but wasn't necessary as the display glass was broken. Small shards and splinters of glass littered the inside of the box.
"Don't touch the gun, Bill. We'd better have it sent to the lab and have it checked out thoroughly."
Allington handed the case to him. Groves lifted the case up and sniffed at it. "Can't smell anything, but that doesn't mean it's not the gun that was used. Mind you, I can't understand that if it is the murder weapon why the killer would bring it back down here and take the time to bury it back more than half way down the crate. If it had been me I would have got the hell out as quickly as I could."
He suddenly realised that ladies were present. He turned toward them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
Both Rosemary and Ruth had just a hint of a smile on their lips. It was Ruth who spoke, interrupting Groves' apology. "No apology necessary, Inspector, it would take something a lot worse than that to offend us."
"Indeed" added Rosemary. "Perhaps we should go back upstairs."
"Good idea." Michael led the way back to the stairs. The others followed.
"Would you leave everything down here as it is?" Groves asked as he reached the stairs.
Rosemary was already a few steps up. "
As long as you need it, Inspector."
They all squinted as they emerged into the natural daylight from the windowless basement.
Groves spoke again. "Thank you for all your time. We won't disturb you any more today. When we know anything I'll be in touch with you. We'll see ourselves out."
He turned and walked down the hallway toward the front door with Allington close behind.
Chapter Seventeen
Vic Bannerman was now thoroughly soaked. He was pissed off, he was tired and he wished he had waited till the next morning before starting out. How much bloody further would he have to walk? There were no lights, there was no shelter. All he could do was to keep walking. The rain had made the suitcase seem much heavier and he was constantly changing it from hand to hand and, as each hand began to feel more painful, the changes became more frequent.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been this pissed off. Yet he knew that he had to continue. Family came first, even if you were, although not by choice, the black sheep. He put his head down and trudged on.
Chapter Eighteen
"I had completely forgotten about that old gun of Rod's. I was sure I had left it behind. Marcy must have packed it."
She saw the blank looks on the other faces and realised that they had no idea who Marcy was.
"Marcy was my South African housekeeper."
There was a mixture of nods and 'ahs.'
"She looked after me extremely well and packed many things that I didn't really need, 'just in case I might need them some day'," she attempted to mimic Marcy. Whether she succeeded or not no one knew.
Michael's thoughts were along the same lines as Inspector Groves'.
"It certainly is odd that if that was in fact the gun that killed the boy, that whoever shot him would take it back down to the basement, never mind about putting it back near the bottom of the crate." He shook his head, "it makes absolutely no sense."
"There's no logic at all. Unless . . ."
They were all looking at Gerald and wondering what he had come up with.
"Unless," he continued, "they took the gun back down to try and hide it and did not leave the house themselves but were hiding down there until the police had left."
Looking at Rosemary he asked "Is that possible? Is there anywhere down there where someone could hide? I mean, we know that the police didn't check out the basement very well, so I suppose it's possible."
"I don't know. Today is the longest time that I've spent down there since I moved in."
"One way to find out." Michael stood up, which encouraged the others to do the same.
The basement door was still unlocked. Michael led the way down and turned on the lights. Another bulb had blown in the short space of time since they were down there with the police but it was still bright enough for them to see clearly. He and Gerald went to investigate while Ruth and Rosemary waited at the bottom of the stairs.
The men came back together. "Well," said Gerald, with obvious disappointment, "that blows my theory out of the water."
"I must admit that I'm not really sorry about that Gerald," said Rosemary. "I'd hate to think that I'd had a murderer hiding in my basement for God knows how long. I don't think that I would ever have been able to sleep again."
Gerald put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. She did not resist, but he still took his arm back quickly.
"Yes, I suppose it's good from that point of view, but now we're back to having no idea what happened with the gun or even the killer." He could have expanded on how scary the situation was and almost even joked that the house was haunted, but common sense told him that it would only make Rosemary worry even more, so he forced himself to stay quiet.
They went back upstairs in silence. Gerald was behind Rosemary and suddenly felt a pang of guilt as he found himself looking at her backside as it moved from side to side. It did look good though.
When they were all back up and the basement door was again closed, Michael turned to Rosemary. "Go and tell Connie that she can go early. I think that after all that's happened we deserve a night out. My treat."
"Don't turn that down anyone," said Ruth. "God knows it doesn't happen too often."
"Ok, one hour to get ready and off we go. Come on Gerald, I'll give you a lift round to your house."
"No, no need. It'll be just as quick to walk."
"As you wish. See you in an hour."
Gerald was so pleased with himself. He was sure that it wouldn't be long before he and Rosemary were having unchaperoned evenings out. It was really going very well.
Chapter Nineteen
The ring of the telephone was persistent. Gavin Groves broke into a run. The office door was open and his hand was on the phone when it stopped ringing.
"Shit." He turned to leave.
As soon as he had stepped out the telephone started to ring again. This time he reached it soon enough.
The conversation was mainly one way, he just yes'd and no'd. When it was over he went around his desk and sat down. He put his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands.
He looked concerned.
He was still sitting that way five minutes later when Bill Allington came in.
"Must be one hell of a hangover."
"Uh?"
"You look as if you're suffering a hell of a hangover," he repeated.
"No, I'm fine. Didn't touch a drop last night."
"I believe you but I doubt that many would." Allington sat down and waited. He knew that there was no point in pushing Groves when he was deep in thought. He would tell him when he was ready.
It didn't take long.
"Just had a phone call, Bill."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, but it didn't help. That old pistol was almost certainly the one used to kill the McKay kid, but until the lab fired it themselves they couldn't find any sign of it having been used recently. They gave us an answer and then immediately contradicted it."
"I can see where you got that look from now. Is it possible that another pistol of that type could have been used?"
"They think that very unlikely. In all the time that they have had records they have never encountered another one and, let's face it, the chances of another one turning up now are very unlikely. I mean, the bloody thing is over a hundred and thirty years old."
"I suppose."
And another thing Bill, I'm certain that she had no idea that the gun was here. She really thought she had left it in South Africa."
"I agree, unless she's an award winning actress, and I don't think that that's the case. She seems to have played straight with us."
"Mmm," he was thinking again. "Yes, I think that we have got to look past Mrs. Van der Velde. Ring the police in South Africa and see if there's any history, if they had any enemies, in fact just find out anything you can. I doubt if there is anything, the woman is obviously a real lady, but you never know."
"Will do."
He picked up the telephone and then put it back down again.
Groves looked up. "What's wrong, Bill?"
"Any idea what the time difference is with South Africa?"
"Good point, but I've no idea."
"Who to ask?" he asked himself.
Groves smiled. "Great pair of detectives we are. How do we expect to catch a killer when we can't even find what time it is in another country?"
The absurdity of the situation also amused Allington, but before he could respond a look of salvation spread over his face.
Click. He snapped his fingers. "Lisa Daniels."
Groves again looked at him and Allington could see that he had no idea what he was on about.
"Lisa Daniels," he said again, in a manner that suggested that Groves should know what he meant.
Apparently he didn't.
"Don't you remember, she's had a sister living out there for a few years." He pushed his chair back. "I'll go up and ask her."
"Why not ring her and save yourself a trip?"
Groves had a broad grin on his face. Lisa was by far the best looking policewoman at the station and he knew that Allington, like most of the other single officers, and some of the married ones, needed little excuse to call on Lisa. For her part, she never encouraged the attention and seemed blissfully unaware of the effect she had on men. Mind you, thought Groves, I wouldn't mind myself.
Chapter Twenty
The rain was still teeming down, but Vic was so wet he hardly noticed it now. He thought, moments ago, that he could see a light in the distance. It was only fleeting and then it vanished.
"Jeez, I'm even imagining things now," he said out loud, safe in the knowledge that no one could hear him, not that he cared anyway.
A few paces further on he saw it again.
"Shelter!" he shouted. "About bloody time too."
This time the light was constant but then he realised that he was getting closer to it much quicker than he should.
"Damn! It's a bloody car."
Seconds later the car went by. He didn't bother to step back to avoid the spray, it just didn't matter any more.
He continued walking.
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