The Ullswater Undertaking by Rebecca Tope (read dune .TXT) 📕

‘Anyway, Christopher never expected to have to keep his promise to Fabian. He only made it because he was convinced the man was dying. He can’t remember exactly what it was he was supposed to do, except he said he’d go to Ullswater and see Aunt Hilda. Something about reassuring her that her nephew had been thinking of her right to the end. Christopher thought at the time that he’d easily manage it because his family were all living up here and it didn’t seem especially arduous. I think he thought he might get round to it if he had the time – but then his plans changed and he didn’t come back here for another year or two, and by then it was all forgotten.’

‘So the Crick man survived the sleeping sickness, checked things out in Ullswater and worked up a right old grudge against Henderson Esquire after a delay of ten years.’

‘More or less. But at the risk of contradicting myself, it does seem that quite a lot of years went by before he did anything about it. He didn’t say where he’d been in the meantime. Or if he did, I can’t remember. They thought Aunt Hilda would die ages before she finally did.’

‘Seems to be a family pattern – outliving all expectations. How old is Uncle Richmond?’

‘Seventy-something, I suppose. Fabian didn’t say exactly, but he was a lot younger than Hilda.’

‘Well, let’s see what we can find, then.’ He turned back to the laptop and fell silent. Simmy sat back in the dining chair and tried to recall anything more about Fabian Crick’s visit that might be relevant to the killing of poor Josephine. Nothing came to mind, and her thoughts immediately drifted to Christopher and how he would react to his interview with the police. Was there any danger that they might regard him as a suspect? Josephine had nursed a very obvious devotion to him, which some people might think was enough to drive him to lash out at her in frustration. Instead, Simmy had a feeling he had rather enjoyed it, while pretending to think it was all imaginary anyway, and he had always been careful never to wound Josephine’s feelings. He would miss her personally as well as an invaluable part of the team at work. The younger members of the staff treated her with wary respect on the whole, despite her schoolgirl yearnings. She was extremely good at her job – brisk, polite, knowledgeable. The more she thought about it, the more Simmy discovered she knew about the woman.

‘Here we are,’ Ben announced. ‘“Miss Hilda Armitage, long-time resident of Jasmine House, Ullswater, has died at the age of ninety-one. Well known as a keen collector of Victorian porcelain, memorabilia and other objects … a colourful life … da-da-da … acute business sense … a rare female entrepreneur in a male world … The deceased leaves two brothers and three nephews, and other more distant relatives. Measures have been taken to safeguard the valuable contents of the house, until issues of inheritance have been resolved.” The local paper, five weeks ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see it.’

Simmy snorted. ‘I was a bit busy at the time, trying to organise hot and cold running water in the house, making sure Bonnie would be all right in the shop and a thousand other things. And that must have been just around Mother’s Day, which was even more of a palaver this year than usual.’

‘I wonder what Josephine did with the porcelain and memorabilia,’ mused Ben.

‘She hasn’t sold it, or Christopher would know about it.’

‘It’s rather vague. Doesn’t say what sort of entrepreneur Hilda was. Did Fabian tell you that?’

Simmy shook her head, and Ben returned to his keyboard. ‘Must be here somewhere,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s try directorships …’ He fell quiet while the Internet worked its magic. ‘Got it! She was founder and CEO of an outfit called Avicat. Short for Aviation Catering. You’d never guess, would you? She supplied meals for long-haul flights.’ He scanned the screen. ‘High quality, aimed at business class and above, supplied to eighteen frontline airlines. Founded in 1982, when the market must have been expanding exponentially. Good for Aunt Hilda!’ He turned to Simmy. ‘Must have made a fortune.’ He looked again and discovered that the whole business had been sold nine years earlier, for a very handsome figure.

Simmy peered over his shoulder. ‘Why couldn’t Fabian tell us that? It’s obviously not a secret. He must have deliberately decided to say as little as possible. I’m telling you – it was hopeless trying to get any hard facts out of him.’ She spent a few minutes going over everything again, with a few added details. By the end of it, she was almost certain that Ben knew everything that she did, and there was a feeling of relief as a result.

Ben made copious notes, and then doodled as he let his thoughts run free. ‘So why does Fabian want to build bridges with this uncle? After all, the house is lost to the family now, whatever happens. Even if they all knew Josephine, I can’t see what they could gain by her death. From what you’ve told me, they’re all a lot more fixated on their aunt.’

‘It’s early days,’ she reminded him. ‘We’ve got no idea how everything fits together.’

‘True. What if the family sent Fabian round to you on Sunday as a sort of smokescreen? He’d bone on about Africa and aged relatives while one of the cousins popped over to Keswick with a knife.’

‘We don’t know for sure it was a knife,’ she said with a frown.

‘It’s an educated guess, listening to what the police have put out in their statement. What does Christopher think was used?’

‘He said it was most likely to have been a knife,’ she conceded ruefully. Ben nodded his silent satisfaction.

‘See what you can find out about Richmond,’ Simmy urged him, pointing at the laptop. ‘While we’re here.’

‘Ooh,