The Riverboat Mystery (Jenny Starling #3)(48)

‘Lucas loves this boat like . . . well . . . like Dorothy Leigh loves her husband — with a blind kind of devotion. And I have no doubt whatsoever that he was somehow coerced into parting with it.’

Rycroft considered this for some time. ‘So. Our victim was blackmailing Lucas?’ he mused at last.

‘I can’t say that for sure, of course, but there was definitely some sort of paperwork involved in the argument yesterday. I saw Mr Olney put some papers away in his pocket,’ the Junoesque cook agreed.

‘Right.’ If he was feeling a bit battered by the relentless information being poured down on his head, Rycroft showed no sign. ‘So that’s—’ he counted them off ‘—four possible people who wanted our chap dead?’

Again, the cook heaved a massive sigh. ‘Both the captain and engineer work full-time for Lucas Finch. Both live in cottages on his grounds. Gabriel Olney was a do-it-yourself kind of man. He wanted the Swan to himself. I believe, although I don’t actually know,’ she said, determined to be scrupulously fair, ‘that last night Olney told Tobias and O’Keefe that their services would no longer be required.’

Rycroft sighed. Heavily. ‘So they lose their jobs and their homes as well in one fell swoop.’

Jenny shrugged. ‘Lucas might have been prepared to let them stay on at the cottages, but I’m sure he would have charged them rent.’

Rycroft finally hunkered down on his knees and looked at the dead man glumly. ‘Not very popular, were you, chum?’ he murmured. ‘Is there anybody you didn’t tick off?’

Jenny also took the opportunity to stoop down beside the body, her nose twitching.

She carefully shut her lips most firmly and then took several long breaths up her finely quivering nostrils. She had a cook’s delicate nose, one that was used to picking up the faintest nuances of aroma.

Rycroft watched her in amazement and fascination for a moment, and then hastily — very hastily — followed suit. Rather belatedly he remembered her fearsome reputation and felt a moment of panic. Had he missed something? It would be just too damned humiliating to have the case solved by a modern-day Miss Marple!

One moment of panic spread into more moments of panic, however, as his nose picked up nothing. No scent at all. So what the hell was she getting at?

‘What can you smell, Inspector?’ Jenny asked at last, that puzzled frown once more back on her face.

Rycroft made a very agitated movement with his hands and abruptly stood up. ‘Nothing,’ he snapped, aggrieved. ‘I smell nothing at all.’

Slowly, the cook rose to her own towering height, unknowingly adding to the inspector’s ire.

‘No,’ she finally said. ‘I can’t either,’ she added thoughtfully, making the policeman yearn to yank out great clumps of his hair by the roots.

Mercifully for him, there was a sudden knock on the door and Sergeant Graves entered. He’d been gone such a short time, the cook surmised that the police must have rigged up some sort of transport system to and from the boat site. Probably some sort of scrambling-style motorbike or a quad bike. Something, at any rate, that was easy and safe to use over farming terrain.

She wondered what the farmer thought about having the police crossing his fields. Probably not a lot, she mused with a wry twist of her lips.

‘We’ve got a 4x4 outside, sir, to take the body,’ Graves said respectfully.

Jenny discreetly left. Rycroft watched her go, his face gloomy. ‘Everything we heard about her was spot on, you know, Graves,’ he said despondently. ‘She’s already onto something, but I’m damned if I know what it is. She’s got David Leigh pegged as the forger of the suicide note, and I’m not willing to bet so much as a penny that she’ll be proved wrong. And she’s got the rundown on every blasted person on the boat.’

Briefly, Rycroft filled his sergeant in on Miss Starling’s view of the suspects.

Graves whistled between his teeth. ‘Still, it does make our job much easier, doesn’t it?’ he finally said. ‘I mean, she’s not known for hogging the limelight, is she?’

Rycroft reluctantly admitted that she wasn’t. As far as the public was concerned, all the murders that she’d helped solve before had been put down to the credit of the various police officers involved. There was that to be said for her.

‘But,’ Rycroft said grimly, ‘I want us to get there first. Have David Leigh checked out thoroughly — he had some reason, other than the victim making lovey-dovey with his wife, to hate Olney, and I want to know what it is. Also, find out what you can about the widow’s socializing habits. There’s a man lurking about somewhere, I’m sure of it. And I want Olney’s room turned inside out. He had some papers on him that had Lucas Finch grabbing him by the gullet. I want to know exactly what they are. And prioritize the background check on our Mr Finch. I’ve got an idea I’ve run across that name before somewhere. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if our cockney chum hasn’t got form of some kind.’

Sergeant Graves nodded as he made copious notes, and left with the two sombre-suited men who had come to remove the body.

Rycroft watched Gabriel Olney being loaded onto the stretcher, but still couldn’t for the life of him see exactly what it was about the body that had so intrigued the cook.

*

Once the galley was cleared, Jenny proceeded to prepare dinner. It was no longer going to be such a lavish feast. For a start, it wouldn’t have been appropriate. Secondly, it was getting too late in the evening, and the guests and the two policemen would need something in a hurry. And thirdly, with more people to cater for, she couldn’t afford to be so lavish with the food.