Free Silent as the Grave by Bill Kitson Page B

against that was the major disadvantage that it failed to take the snow clouds away.
    Eve had the stables’ keys and unlocked the door for us. There were no longer horses kept at the castle; none of the family had much interest in riding, Charlie informed me. The buildings had long since been converted into workshops and storage rooms. It took only a few minutes inspection to realize that wherever Beaumont had been headed it certainly wasn’t the stables. ‘Let’s try the garages whilst we’re close by,’ Charlie suggested.
    Again there was no sign that there had been any entry to the garages since the snow had begun. ‘OK, where now, Charlie?’ I asked.
    â€˜The kitchen garden greenhouses are on the way to the chapel, why not go there first?’
    â€˜You’re the boss.’
    We were already almost at the point where we would be risking the first course of our Christmas meal by the time we reached the greenhouses. They stood forlornly like three giant igloos covered in several inches of snow. The heat inside, whilst it was obviously kept low at this time of year, had been sufficient to melt some of the snow that had fallen on the glass, but obviously the effort had been too much, so there was a thick layer of ice. I wondered if the weight might eventually cause the frame to collapse. The effect would be spectacularly expensive, dangerous too, for anyone unlucky enough to be inside at the time.
    That had not been Beaumont’s fate and when I thought about it the greenhouses were an unlikely venue for a secret rendezvous. They were far too visible, particularly if the meeting had been planned in advance of the snow. Eve seemed to have taken responsibility for securing the buildings, so Charlie and I waited whilst she fiddled with the padlock on the final glasshouse. ‘There’s only the chapel left,’ Charlie told me, ‘and that means a half-mile walk.’
    â€˜Don’t you think that’s a bit of a trek?’ Eve asked as we set off. ‘For Beaumont I mean, not us. Do you really think he’d have gone that far just to meet someone, when there were the stables and garages closer at hand and quite secret?’
    â€˜True enough,’ I agreed. Even I was beginning to wonder if my theory had been just a wild fantasy based on the slimmest of evidence. I remembered the puddle, I remembered Beaumont’s missing clothes, and my resolve stiffened. ‘We must check it out, no matter how unlikely it might seem,’ I maintained.
    Eve gave a sigh of mock reluctance. ‘Never mind,’ she consoled me, ‘I was never that keen on turkey anyway.’
    The snow was almost to the tops of our wellingtons in places, making our progress slow. Eventually, through the blurring curtain of snow, I saw the outline of a building ahead. Indistinct though it was I recognized it as our objective immediately. As we struggled through a particularly deep stretch, Eve remarked suddenly, ‘I suppose you must be used to this sort of thing?’
    â€˜How do you mean?’ I asked.
    She turned to reply, which was her undoing. Her foot slipped in the snow and before I could put out a hand to steady her she had gone full length and was lying face down in the snow. I lifted her to her feet, thankful that Charlie was far enough ahead not to hear the rich and varied assortment of expletives his aunt was capable of producing. I began helping her to dust the snow that had attached itself in liberal proportions to almost every item of her outer clothing. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
    â€˜My leg hurts,’ she said and winced. She leaned against me. I brushed vigorously at her coat. As I started to knock the snow from the chest of the garment I saw her eyes sparkle dangerously and shifted my target immediately.
    â€˜Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t think.’ I turned her and began attacking the rear of the coat. It fitted her snugly and I