Free Silent as the Grave by Bill Kitson Page A

My fear for Beaumont’s safety increased in proportion.
    â€˜Don’t forget that dinner will be served in three-quarters of an hour’s time,’ Rathbone still had one shot in his locker.
    â€˜That’s all right, you have my permission to start without us,’ Charlie told him.
    â€˜Don’t worry, we will,’ the butler promised.
    â€˜Sour-faced old dork,’ Charlie muttered as we walked away.
    â€˜Charlie,’ Eve protested, ‘you shouldn’t use words like that, it’s not nice.’
    â€˜You use it all the time,’ Charlie pointed out.
    â€˜That’s different,’ she said weakly.
    â€˜Actually, that’s pretty mild for your aunt,’ I told Charlie, ‘you should have heard some of the things she called me last night.’
    â€˜Oi! I thought we were supposed to be calling it quits?’
    I smiled sweetly. ‘That was just to let you know I hadn’t forgotten.’
    We walked back through the kitchen watched in disapproving silence by Polly Jardine and Cathy Marsh. I was the recipient of a particularly hostile glare from Polly. The look wasn’t lost on Eve. When we reached the passage to the outside door she said, ‘The queen of quiches is certainly not amused. That’s because you’re with me, not dancing attendance on her; she doesn’t like competition.’
    â€˜Competition for what?’ It was a dangerous, leading question.
    â€˜Competition for any man’s company and attention,’ she told me. ‘She has a bit of a reputation.’
    â€˜Whereas you’re as pure as the driven snow, I suppose?’ I’d have got a tirade of abuse for that remark the previous day, but twenty-four hours seemed to have wrought a remarkable change in Eve.
    â€˜I can be wicked if I want. I’m just a little more selective.’ Eve turned to Charlie and asked, ‘Have you really seen old Rathbone watering the port down?’
    â€˜No, of course not. But I know he drinks it, so it seemed natural he would,’ Charlie grinned.
    Eve hugged him. ‘You’re great, Charlie,’ she told him. ‘That was very clever.’
    â€˜OK,’ I said when we reached the outside door, ‘which way do we play it. Charlie, you’re the local expert.’
    â€˜Stables first I reckon, then the greenhouse, and finally the chapel.’
    â€˜Right,’ – I’d had chance to think things over – ‘remember we’re not just looking for Beaumont. We’re also looking for signs that he met someone in one of those places.’
    Both of them looked at me in surprise. ‘If Beaumont went out and didn’t come back then he definitely met someone. Otherwise, how could the garden door be locked and bolted from the inside? That explains the puddle on the floor. That must have been done when someone came back inside the castle. Beaumont isn’t inside, therefore the puddle must have been made by someone else. Despite what the cynics back there think, I’m very much afraid for Beaumont’s safety.’
    â€˜Do you think it might be the Rowe family curse?’ Charlie asked, half hopefully. ‘Do you think he’s disappeared, never to be seen again?’
    â€˜Maybe, although I’m not a great believer in the supernatural. I think it might be something more sinister than a legend.’
    I opened the door and allowed Eve to step outside first. ‘Brace yourselves, men,’ she called over her shoulder and was immediately enveloped in a thick cloud of whirling snowflakes.
    â€˜Come on, Charlie; don’t let your auntie show us up.’
    We followed Eve outside. I closed the door behind us and we were at once in that magical silent world a heavy snowstorm brings. As with the previous day, now there was little or no wind. This was a minor blessing in that it reduced the wind chill factor and stopped the snow driving into our faces. Set