Free Rainbow's End by Martha Grimes Page A

Chatterton. He thought of it now, as he looked around Lady Cray’s beautiful living room, and noticed that the furniture had been rearranged, probably to accommodate a large escritoire and a jade and ivory carved Oriental screen that had supplanted the small sofa and Queen Anne chairs. They had been moved to sit before the french windows which led to a patio surrounded by ornamental trees and clay pots and flowerbeds that in spring overflowed with flowers. As the furniture had been changed, so had the ornaments and oddments arranged on the tables and in the glass-enclosed commodes and escritoire. Jury didn’t see the turquoise-and-silver piece.
    â€œI don’t think you were ever satisfied,” Jury said, “with that verdict of cardiac arrest.”
    â€œI don’t think your medical examiner was, either.”
    Jury smiled. People had a way of pinning the responsibility for this investigation on him, didn’t they. “Well, actually, it wasn’t ours, Lady Cray.”
    She shrugged slightly and looked off through the french windows. “Satisfied or not, her heart still stopped. Which is why I didn’t press the matter.” Over the top of the tulip-shaped glass, she regarded him. “And you?”
    â€œThere’s a question.”
    She said nothing.
    Jury set his glass on the silver tray and leaned forward. “You told me Mrs. Hamilton visited the western United States.”
    â€œYes, that’s right. Last year, in November, after she went to Pennsylvania.”
    â€œTexas, you said. Or Arizona.”
    â€œYour memory is better than mine. I’m getting on, I expect.” Lady Cray sighed artificially and poured herself another glass of champagne. “Or getting drunk.” She set the bottle back in the cooler. “I expect I wasn’t paying much attention to Fanny when she went rattling on about her travels.”
    â€œOnly because you were distracted.”
    The glass she was setting down hit the tray with a decided click. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œWell, you told Sergeant Wiggins, I think, you’d just been to Harrods Food Hall and there’d been a bit of a dust-up about a box of Belgian chocolates? Your nephew, Andrew, took care of it and brought you home. Is that right?” Jury gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look.
    â€œHow clever. Are you going to blackmail me into total recall of the details of Fanny’s trip?”
    Jury laughed. “Not exactly. It’s where Mrs. Hamilton went when she was away that interests me.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œDo you mind if I don’t say, at the moment?”
    â€œOf course I mind.”
    â€œIt’s probably not connected.”
    â€œWith what is it not connected?”
    Jury didn’t answer directly. “She brought you a piece of sculpture, turquoise and silver. I remember it was on this table that day Wiggins and I came to see you.”
    â€œYes. It’s over there, in the escritoire. Why?”
    â€œWould you mind if I had a look at it again?”
    She rose and moved to the glass-fronted chest. She opened the door, brought out the turquoise block, and handed it over to Jury.
    He turned it around, looked at the little silver flautist. “Where did she get this?”
    â€œTexas, I think. Albuquerque or Abilene. Or was it Austin? Began with an A, I remember that.” Lady Cray took a cigarette from a cloisonné box, sighed, put it back.
    â€œAlbuquerque isn’t in Texas. The other two are, but not Albuquerque. It’s in New Mexico.”
    â€œYou know that, do you? How clever.”
    â€œDid she mention Santa Fe?”
    Lady Cray cocked her head. “As a matter of fact, she did. And you’re right, it was Albuquerque, or at least that’s where the airport was. Superintendent, are you investigating the death of that young woman in the West Country? Salisbury?”
    There had been a brief account in the papers, kept brief, no