The Ellie Hardwick Mysteries by Barbara Cleverly Read Free Book Online Page A

card from my pocket, a cable from my briefcase and offered up my camera. I looked doubtfully at the computer and back at Rupert.
    â€˜I can manage,’ he said. ‘Allow me.’
    In a few swift gestures he had transferred the image to his computer screen.
    He studied the scene with stony face, running a delicate forefinger over the spilling golden hair on the screen. I fetched one of the black and white photos of the original tomb figures and we compared the two. The likeness was startling. Rupert made me go over again the details of the appearance of the corpse. ‘The dagger,’ he said finally, pointing, ‘There’s a real one in a trophy of arms in the drawing room, the twin of this. I looked in before I came to the library. It’s missing. A misericorde, you’re right. And I bet if I looked in the chest on the landing I’d find that a long white nightgown and a pair of white satin ballet shoes have gone missing too.’
    â€˜But do you think she changed into them willingly? Was Taro part of the impersonation, do you think?’
    â€˜Certain of it! Just the sort of off-beat humour she went in for. Bet it was all her idea. I can imagine what they were both up to! What a laugh! Dress up as the first Lady Brancaster and pose, with a lot of bosom showing of course, on the family tomb which somebody has conveniently cleared for them. Theo snaps away and flogs the result to . . . oh, any one of a hundred papers. You can imagine the headlines! Blast them!’
    â€˜But wouldn’t she have been a bit more circumspect . . . I mean . . . have held off from offending the ancient family she was about to marry into? Surely?’
    Rupert snorted. ‘She had no respect for that sort of thing. She refused to use or acknowledge Grandpa’s title. She was the type who cheer when hereditary peers are kicked out of the House of Lords. I’ve always thought it was Taro and her sarcastic tongue that gave Grandfather his heart attack.’
    â€˜Is that possible?’
    He grimaced at the memory. ‘It happened at her first dinner here. She said something deliberately calculated to get up Grandfather’s nose and then announced that she and I were engaged to be married and he’d better get used to hearing her opinions. She declared that she’d make every effort to talk me out of taking up the title when the time came. Who on earth cared about such things these days? And even if I did take it up she’d make sure any children we had were daughters so it would die out. Bluffing, of course, but the old chap’s heard of designer babies and DNA and all that and I think he really believed she could do it. Poor old bloke sent for his doctor and went to his room. He hasn’t come downstairs since. Doc says he’s got a heart condition and has to avoid stress. He’s over eighty now. Seems a bit strange in these days perhaps,’ Rupert looked at me, calculating, wondering whether he need explain, ‘but he really is obsessed by—lost in—family history. Heraldry, pedigrees . . . His family motto . . . our family motto . . . is
Who dies, if Hartest live!’
    I must have looked bewildered because with an apologetic smile he said, ‘I suppose it means: To hell with everyone else! Who cares—so long as the Hartests survive. Nice sentiment!’
    Rupert’s eye flicked to a photograph on the mantelpiece and I went over to look at it. Three generations of the Hartest men were lined up on the lawn, smiling at the camera.
    â€˜There you see, until the last few weeks Grandpa was always fighting fit—literally fighting fit! He was a commando and kept himself in shape. Tried to teach me and Dad all his skills. More successful with Dad—he was in the Coldstream.’
    â€˜Are you a soldier too?’
    â€˜I was for about eighteen months. Tried it for Grandpa’s sake. Went through the motions. University then Sandhurst. I didn’t