A Fatal Secret. Faith Martin

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       Chapter 5

      The following Monday morning, Martin de Lacey of Briar’s Hall travelled into town and made his way to Floyds Row, where the mortuary and coroner’s office was situated.

      He wasn’t particularly surprised to be regarded with some favour by the secretary who guarded the coroner’s inner sanctum.

      At six feet tall, with dark, slightly receding hair, a luxuriant moustache and big grey eyes, he was used to women from 20 to 60 regarding him with a certain interest. It helped that he was a well-set-up man, who had a curiously scholarly look about him that gave him a totally spurious air of distinction.

      He was not, he knew, particularly clever, but he was very comfortably wealthy, and his family had owned land in the north of the county for centuries. And he did wear his country clothes very well indeed.

      Widowed, with two children, Martin de Lacey was usually very happy with his lot.

      But not recently – no not recently.

      ‘I wondered if I might have a word with Dr Ryder please?’ He approached the secretary sitting at her desk and gave his usual smile. It was naturally winsome, and under the dark curl of his moustache, his teeth seemed rather more white and sparkling than they actually were. As a man of some social standing, he was used to getting his own way, and he foresaw no particular difficulties in getting his way this time.

      ‘May I ask your name, please?’ The slightly thin woman, who could have been any age between 40 and 60, asked the question with that friendly disinterest cultivated by secretaries who guarded the doors to their boss’s kingdom.

      ‘Martin de Lacey. It’s about the Edward Proctor case that he heard on Wednesday.’

      It was now Monday, and already the papers had moved on to another sensation.

      ‘I’ll see if he can spare you a few minutes. Would you take a seat, please?’

      Martin nodded, but didn’t, in fact, sit down. Instead he wandered over to the nearest window and stared out pensively over the cobbled courtyard and brick buildings of Floyds Row. He was uncomfortably aware of the presence of a mortuary nearby, and wished that he were walking across the fields surrounding his house, instead of feeling cooped up so close to all this death and unpleasantness.

      He frowned slightly, wondering if he was doing the right thing in coming here. But damn it, he couldn’t just—

      ‘Dr Ryder can see you now.’ The secretary was back, holding open the door to the inner sanctum.

      He nodded at her and strode in.

      The first thing he noticed was the welcome fire, roaring away in the fireplace, and a rather fine landscape painting hanging on one wall. The man, who rose from behind a large and rather fine desk to greet him, seemed vaguely familiar.

      Although it had been his land agent who’d testified at the inquest as to the condition of the Hall’s grounds – including that damned old well – Martin realised now that he’d seen the coroner around somewhere before. In a social setting.

      At the golf club maybe? Or at the lodge? As he shook hands, he gave the Mason’s greeting, and was not surprised to have it reciprocated.

      ‘Thank you for seeing me,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s a sad business I’ve come about, but then, I expect in your line of work, you’re used to that,’ he began pleasantly.

      Clement inclined his head. ‘I’m afraid so. Please, take a seat.’ He indicated one of the padded chintz chairs that faced his desk, curious as to what could have brought the owner of Briar’s Hall to his office.

      If he wanted to have any guilty feelings assuaged about the safety – or not – of the old wells on his premises, he was going to be out of luck. Clement was in no mood to play nanny to the landed gentry.

      ‘It’s about that poor boy, of course. Eddie.’

      ‘Yes?’ Clement said, discouragingly.

      Martin de Lacey took a long, slow breath. He hadn’t mistaken that lack of empathy in the older man’s tone, and he knew he’d have to tread carefully now.

      ‘I’m not here to talk about the rights and wrongs of that well not being covered properly.’ He decided to take the bull by the horns. He’d always been pretty good at reading other people, and he sensed in the court official a man who wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. ‘We were at fault, and that’s that.’ He could see he’d slightly surprised Ryder with his blunt acceptance of responsibility, and felt a brief moment of pleasure. Martin was a man who liked to have the upper hand.

      Feeling more intrigued, Clement settled back in his chair. Clearly his surprise visitor had something specific to say, and he rather thought it might prove more interesting than he’d at first thought.

      ‘So I’m not here to make excuses. I just wanted to get that clear.’ Martin de Lacey cleared his throat gruffly. ‘I’m here, in fact, not on my own behalf at all, but because of Vince. Vincent Proctor, that is, the boy’s father.’

      ‘Oh?’ Clement said, careful to keep his voice noncommittal. He recalled that the dead boy’s father worked as a farm hand on the de Lacey estate. But he wouldn’t have thought that that would put the two men on intimate terms – certainly not on the sort of terms that would allow Mr Proctor to think that he could ask favours of the lord of the manor. In the normal course of things, Vincent Proctor probably took his orders from the de Laceys’ farm estate manager anyway.

      Except, of course, his son had just died, and in most people’s eyes, the head of the de Lacey family had to bear some СКАЧАТЬ