Bitter End Part 7

Buchanan picked his way through a minefield of bottles, rolls of paper, tins of paint and small gla.s.s dishes and 45. lowered his two-hundred-pound trousers on to a less than rea.s.suring bentwood chair. The walls of the room were lined with shelf units containing a similar a.s.sortment of materials as did the floor, and the whole room smelled strongly of an unfamiliar chemical spirit. The door, the free-standing cupboards, and every available patch of wall was plastered with posters, photographs and cuttings, presumably samples of the firm's output.

Rudyard sketched a dismal attempt at a smile as he followed Buchanan's gaze. 'You see, when we started the business we were in such a hurry to get it off the ground, to get the money coming in, that we decided to leave the non-urgent stuff till we broke even. But now that the work's beginning to come in more regularly we can't spare the time to start ripping out walls etc. We'll get round to it one of these days.'

Buchanan nodded pleasantly. 'I believe there are firms that specialise in doing that sort of job over a weekend, while the premises are empty. With the bequest you stand to receive from Mrs Gra.s.sick's will, you'll be able to afford to pay extra for speed.'

'I suppose so.' There was something trapped under Rudyard's thumb nail that appeared to interest him more than the money. He picked at it with the end of a paper clip as he snivelled, 'I don't know what my plans are for the future. I may move to new premises, I may give up the firm altogether. Things will be difficult without Vanessa.'

'Difficult? Businesswise, you mean?'

'Uh-huh. Vanessa was the creative half of the partnership.'

He lifted one shoulder in a spiritless shrug. 'I'm a good draughtsman -tell me what you want and I'll deliver it -but it was Vanessa who got us the orders. She had the contacts and the drive and the reputation you need in this scene and, most of the time, she was the one who came up with the clever ideas. I just don't know how things will go from here on in.'

Buchanan discovered he didn't give a s.h.i.t, one way or 46. the other. In fact, he was finding Joseph Rudyard one of the most unappealing jellyfish he'd had to deal with for some time. His voice had a lot to do with that. It was pitched rather higher than average and had a nasal whine that weighed quite heavily on Buchanan's spirits. As well as that, he had a habit of tucking in his chin, thus forcing himself to roll his eyes up, exposing a line of white below his irises and giving him an irritating hang-dog expression.

One could commiserate with his loss of a dynamic partner but, for G.o.d's sake, wasn't twelve thousand pounds and the said partner's share in the business enough of a compensation?

'Were you close socially, you and Mrs Gra.s.sick?'

Rudyard returned to picking his nails. 'We'd go out for a drink sometimes after work,' he said listlessly. 'Friday nights usually, but that was more of a business thing. I've been over to her house once or twice. She and her husband always had a ma.s.s of people round for drinks on Christmas Eve, that was something they laid on for friends they didn't meet up with regularly, business contacts, those sorts of people. When you come right down to it, we didn't really have a lot in common. But,' he added as an obvious afterthought, 'I'll miss her, of course. She was great to work with.'

Somehow Buchanan couldn't imagine Vanessa, or indeed anybody else, saying the same about Rudyard. That voice entered the ear like a dental drill: listening to it for eight hours a day would do anybody's head in.

'How about her weekend place down in Chirnside? Ever been down there?'

Rudyard smiled a humourless smile that barely creased his cheeks. 'No. They didn't have guests there, not unless Lawrence took some friends down for a couple of days'

fishing. I don't think it was Vanessa's scene, to tell you the truth. She was more of a townie but she tagged along with Lawrence for the sake of a quiet life, I think. He can be quite . . . er . . .' 47. 'Dictatorial?' Buchanan supplied.

'I was going to say self-centred but, yes, from the hints Vanessa dropped, he liked to get his own way. I suspect he dominated her a lot of the time.'

'Was she the sort of woman who hated being dominated?'

'Don't they all?' He looked, for a second, as if he'd be interested to hear Buchanan's opinion on that, but then continued, 'I don't suppose she enjoyed it but she just let it wash straight over her head -as far as I could tell, anyway.'

Buchanan would have been surprised if that had not been the case. It would have taken a strong woman to stand up to Gra.s.sick's temper, and two browbeaters of his cla.s.s in the same household would never have lasted the ten years those two had clocked up. He said, 'Yes, quite.

Yet, by all accounts, they jogged along together pretty well.'

'Yeah.' Rudyard's initial gratification at having his opinions solicited appeared to be ebbing. Evidently it wasn't as much fun as he had expected it to be, and he was now slipping deeper into what Buchanan suspected was his normal state of profound depression. 'But it wasn't what I'd call a marriage. They lived together and they socialised together but there didn't appear to be much else to it, as far as I could see. They both had their own careers and it looked to me like they didn't see all that much of each other -especially since Lawrence started to get so involved in politics.'

'Takes all kinds,' Buchanan murmured. It was almost rea.s.suring to hear that the Gra.s.sicks' marriage was grounded more in convenience than in pa.s.sion. In spite of everything, he didn't really want to find that Gra.s.sick had arranged his wife's death and he couldn't help feeling that where there was no pa.s.sion there was less reason for one of those involved to boil over. In his experience, a husband/ wife killing was usually a crime pa.s.sionnel.

'Did it ever occur to you . . . Sorry, it's none of my 48. business . . .' Buchanan began but, receiving an encouraging lift of the brows from Rudyard, he continued, 'Did Mrs Gra.s.sick inform you of her intention to leave her entire estate to you?'

'No. Never hinted at anything like that. I don't even know why she'd think of such a thing. Except, maybe . . .'

His nose wrinkled, widening his nostrils unattractively.

'She might have meant it to go towards building up the business but, if so, she never spoke to me about it. I suppose she would have explained her thinking to me if she hadn't died so suddenly.'

His lugubrious eyes hung on Buchanan's as though he expected sympathy for being so thoughtlessly treated. He should have been dancing on his tippy-toes with delight at his financial windfall like any other not-too-distressed beneficiary but, if that was what he felt like inside, he was hiding it well. It was always possible, Buchanan thought, that he was misjudging the guy for no good reason and Rudyard simply deemed it indecent to betray any jubilation at a blessing obtained in such tragic circ.u.mstances.

Possible, but highly unlikely.

'Just one more thing you might be able to tell me,' he said, watching Rudyard's face. 'How did Mrs Gra.s.sick appear psychologically these last few weeks?'

'Psychologically?' That brought his head up. For a moment Buchanan thought he detected a flicker of humour in the mournful eyes. 'You think she might have committed suicide? Is that what you meant earlier when you said there were matters you wanted to clarify?'

'No.' Buchanan had never thought that likely, but one could never tell. 'I don't imagine many people would choose that way of putting an end to their life. I was simply curious to know if she seemed happier or sadder than usual.' What he'd really wanted to know was whether she looked as if there was a new interest in her life -like a love affair with a neighbour, for instance -but that wasn't the sort of thing he could ask Rudyard straight out so he 49. covered up by adding, 'Worried about anything maybe?

Something that might have distracted her thoughts when she was turning on the gas supply?'

'Naw,' Rudyard said, without bothering to think about it. 'She was real mad about some guy clearing people off an estate somewhere near their cottage but she wasn't the sort to let it get to her like that. Vanessa was a nice quiet lady on the surface but, when you got to know her, she was cold steel underneath.'

It was always nice, Buchanan thought, when you got the answer to a question you'd never have thought of asking. 50.

Chapter Five.

'I'm beginning to form a really interesting picture of this

Gra.s.sick woman,' Fizz told Buchanan as they headed back

to Chirnside that evening. It was lashing with rain but she was feeling quite pressured by the need to push ahead and get out of Gra.s.sick's hair as soon as humanly possible. Buchanan had muttered a bit as she'd expected, but he could hardly deny the need for alacrity. And, quite coincidentally, since they had set forth directly from the office, 'pushing ahead'

also meant that he would have to buy her dinner.

He lifted his eyebrows and said, 'Yes? How do you see her?'

'Well, she was n.o.body's whipping boy, I reckon.' Fizz submitted, feeling quite confident that she knew what she was talking about. 'Vanessa took what she wanted from that marriage, a position in society, a luxury lifestyle, possibly even very good company -when Gra.s.sick wasn't in Ghengis mode. She may have loved him dearly -in fact, I'm sure she must have done -but when he was in Ghengis mode I can see her just leaving him to it and getting on with her own life.'

'How do you come to that conclusion?' Buchanan spared her a quick glance and then concentrated on the rush-hour traffic. There had been a time when he'd have greeted Fizz's prognostications with imperfectly concealed amus.e.m.e.nt but he'd grown up a lot since then.

Likewise, Fizz was man enough to admit in the privacy 51. of her own thoughts, there had been a time when she couldn't have traced back the line of her own reasoning.

Now she had grown used to explaining herself to Buchanan and was able to say, 'n.o.body with any savvy whatsoever could have put up with Lawrence Gra.s.sick's temper for how long were they married?'

'Ten years.'

'Right. However, we know Vanessa wasn't simple because she was making a success of her business in a compet.i.tive field, and we know she was capable of putting her needs across because she was the one who went out and got the orders. I can't see anybody fighting Gra.s.sick with his own weapon -women can't shout that loud for a start -so the only way she could have lasted this long was by teaching him that he wouldn't get away with bullying her.'

'Rudyard said she went along with his preferences just for the sake of a quiet life.'

That's by the way. You swear to that at the altar.' Fizz wriggled into a more comfortable position and tucked her feet under her, being careful to remove her Doc's first since Buchanan was still pernickety about his new Saab. 'I'm talking about pushing her too far. She wouldn't take that for long. According to your chum Sunshine Rudyard, Vanessa wasn't the kind to let anybody walk all over her, so she must have had some way of keeping Ghengis Gra.s.sick in check. Maybe he was crazy about her and was scared she'd ditch him. Maybe she had some other big stick to hit him with.'

'Hm-mm,' Buchanan said as he overtook a car-transporter lorry in a shower of spray. The weather being what it was, he had taken the main Al instead of the tourist route, and at this time of day it was like Le Mans.

'Makes me wonder just how mad she was about the sale of Lammerburn Estate. Rudyard said she wasn't pleased about it but I should have asked him if she'd been annoying the Menzies family. There's potentially a lot of money 52. tied up in the sale of Lammerburn Estate so, if Vanessa Gra.s.sick looked like being a serious threat to the sale, it means we really have to add Menzies to our list of people to talk to.'

'Well, you were going to talk to him anyway, weren't you?'

'Maybe,' Buchanan admitted. 'If the letter I got Dennis to write him this morning doesn't have the desired effect.'

'You wrote to him already? What did you tell Dennis to say?'

'I don't tell Dennis what to say,' he had to point out, in the nitpicking way that got straight up Fizz's nostrils. 'We had a chat about it and Dennis considered it should be enough, in the first instance, to suggest to Menzies that he might want to think about the effect his plans would have on the village. We'll see what he has to say to that and take it from there.'

It was quite obvious to Fizz that Menzies had already considered the effect his plans would have on the village and didn't give a monkey's chunky, but she was ready to concede that Buchanan had more experience in diplomacy than she had.