‘Good afternoon. I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison from the Metropolitan Police in London.’ Jane held out her ID. ‘This is Detective Constable Timothy Taylor.’
The girl looked rather nonplussed.
‘I wish to speak to Mrs Beatrice Thorpe,’ Jane added.
The girl nodded. ‘Is she expecting you?’
‘This is rather an important matter. If you would be so kind as to tell Mrs Thorpe that we are here to see her.’
‘One moment, please.’ The girl turned, leaving Jane and Tim standing on the doorstep as she disappeared through a wide arch leading onto a staircase. Whilst they waited, a stocky man passed through the hallway, pushing a man in a wheelchair who Jane presumed was Matthew Thorpe.
Although close in age to Jason, Matthew looked to be extremely overweight with a jowly face, sunken eyes and greasy blond hair. Neither acknowledged Jane or Tim as they continued through the opposite arch. Jane then heard the click of high-heeled shoes on the stone floor as a woman walked towards them.
Beatrice Thorpe did not at all resemble her sister Helena, being broad-shouldered and a trifle stout around her waist. She was wearing a floral print dress with frilly sleeves and her grey hair was coiled up into a plait at the back. But it was the string of pearls around her neck that confirmed her identity. She was also wearing pearl drop earrings and was heavily made up, with thick mascara and eye shadow.
‘I’m sorry, I’m rather confused... the maid said you’re from the Metropolitan Police force?’
Jane held up her ID. ‘I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison, and this is Detective Constable Timothy Taylor. We have come from England and are part of a Metropolitan Police inquiry.’
‘Oh... and you’ve come to see me?’
‘Yes, Mrs Thorpe. We’d also like to talk to your son, Jason.’
‘He’s not here. He’s in Melbourne. But please, do come through.’
She gestured for them to walk through the arch into a sitting room.
‘I’ll be with you in one moment. I just need to make a call. I was due to be meeting friends for lunch today.’ Mrs Thorpe picked up an ivory-coloured phone on the hall table. After dialling, she looked towards Jane and Tim and gestured for them to wait.
‘Deidre, my dear, I am so sorry it’s such short notice, but I won’t be able to join you and the girls for lunch. Something rather important has come up, but I’ll call you later.’
She replaced the phone and headed towards her waiting visitors. Jane noticed she was wearing rather elegant, high-heeled sandals.
‘I think I may know why you’re here. Jason has told me about the situation at the Stockwell property.’
The sitting room had two ceiling fans, and polished pine floors with expensive Persian rugs. There were a few comfortable-looking velvet armchairs and two large sofas in matching covers. On the white marble fireplace was an impressive gold ormolu clock, and either side of the mantelpiece there were framed paintings of floral arrangements. Fine white muslin curtains that billowed slightly from the four open French doors.
‘Do please sit down,’ Beatrice said, without a trace of an Australian accent; in fact, she sounded rather aristocratic. ‘I see you weren’t driven here, so you must be thirsty after climbing up all those steps.’
Jane sat down in one of the velvet armchairs. ‘Yes, we caught the ferry to Mosman.’
Tim hovered behind her, and Jane turned to indicate that he could sit down. He chose a hard-backed chair positioned next to a polished bureau.
‘Would you like some iced tea or lemonade?’ Beatrice asked.
‘I think lemonade would be perfect,’ Jane replied.
Beatrice was wearing a heavy gold charm bracelet which jangled when she moved.
‘I didn’t actually formally introduce myself, did I?’
She leaned over to Jane with her hand outstretched. ‘I am Beatrice Thorpe. Just let me order those cold drinks.’ The click of her heels faded as Jane glanced over to Tim. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nice place.’
Jane took a good look around. It was indeed a very nice place. She had read up on Australia’s fine houses and exclusive properties and was certain that The Glades was an original old English-style property.
Jane looked to her right and there was another archway into a second drawing room. From where she was sitting, she could see a number of framed family photographs on one wall and there was a grand piano with many more photographs in silver frames displayed on top.
Jane stood up as Beatrice returned, carrying a silver tray. The maid behind her pulled up a small, polished coffee table in front of Jane. Beatrice placed the silver tray down and picked up a large glass of fresh lemonade with ice and handed it to the maid to give to Jane.
Jane sipped gratefully. It really was delicious after their hot, sweaty walk, and she took a few more sips before replacing it on the tray. Beatrice sat down opposite her and crossed her legs, giving Jane an inquiring look.
‘I suppose you must be here about that wretchedly sad discovery at my old family home.’
Jane nodded. ‘Yes, I am, but I’m afraid that I am also here to inform you of some very sad news that occurred just before I left London. I’m very sorry, Mrs Thorpe, but I have to tell you that your sister Helena died.’
‘Oh my goodness, that is so sad,’ Beatrice said. ‘But I have to say, we have been expecting her passing for some considerable time now. Please excuse me, but I really should let Jason know. I do hate to be the bearer of bad news to him, particularly as he is currently with his hopefully future in-laws, but I am sure he will want to come home immediately.’
She headed towards the hallway, pausing to look back at Jane. ‘Is Mr Hadley aware of her passing? I will obviously need to contact him about arranging a funeral. I don’t know whether or not I will be able to make the journey to London; it will depend on what my son feels would be best...’
The sound of Beatrice’s heels continued as she disappeared into the hallway. She did not appear to be in any way saddened by her sister’s death and Jane listened as she made the call to Jason from the phone in the hallway.
‘This is Beatrice Thorpe speaking... would it be possible to speak to my son? It is rather an important matter. Oh...’ There was a pause. ‘Would you please tell him I rang and ask him to call me as soon as he returns from the stables.’
After a moment, the sound of Beatrice’s heels heralded her return to the sitting room.
‘He is at the Balfour stables — his girlfriend Arabella has acquired a new Thoroughbred, costing over $25,000... astonishing. They had it shipped all the way from England. Her family have some of the finest racehorses in Melbourne and are very hopeful of winning the Melbourne Cup this year.’
Jane smiled politely, finding it notable that Beatrice seemed more intent on describing the wealth of her hoped-for in-laws than mourning her sister’s death. Beatrice paused by an elaborate floral display and frowned before removing a rose and placing it more centrally.
‘Flower arranging is one of my favourite pastimes... I decorate the church every other Sunday.’ She then sat back opposite Jane.
‘Your sister Helena apparently fell from her bed at the care home and suffered severe bruising to her face,’ Jane told her. ‘Sussex Police have asked for an autopsy to be carried out and hopefully that will be completed by the time I return to England.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought there was a need for that,’ Beatrice said. ‘My sister was very unwell — I expect you are aware that she had suffered from dementia for many years.’ She waved her hand and the bracelets jangled again. ‘I know my son found it very distressing.’