Page 59 of Marble Hall Murders

‘This is Roland, Eliot’s brother,’ Jonathan exclaimed. ‘We were just talking about Marble Hall, Roland. I’m afraid Susan has a rather dim view of the place.’

Roland ignored this. He strode over to my side of the table and we shook hands. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said. ‘Gillian told me she’d had dinner with you. I know Eliot’s writing a book and I’m glad. He needs something to focus on.’

‘That may be your view.’ Jonathan was disconcerted. ‘It certainly isn’t mine.’

‘He said he was writing a mystery story, Uncle Jon. And even if he’s based some of it on Grandma and stuff that happened at Marble Hall, nobody else is going to know.’ Roland pulled out a chair and sat next to me.

It struck me as interesting that he referred to the CEO of the Miriam Crace Estate as ‘Uncle Jon’ and that Miriam Crace was still ‘Grandma’. After all, Roland Crace was in his late thirties and presumably senior within the organisation. It was as if, like Eliot, he hadn’t quite escaped from the shadow of his childhood.

Jonathan glared at me. ‘What exactlywereyou doing at Marble Hall?’ he asked.

I thought for a moment before answering. ‘I was trying to understand Eliot – and what he’s writing.’

‘By asking personal and intrusive questions? By deliberatelymisrepresenting your intentions? It seems to me that you have some sort of agenda against the family—’

‘That’s not true.’

‘—and that Eliot’s intention is to peddle a series of untruths about his childhood simply to promote a book which might otherwise pass unnoticed. I can see quite clearly that this would be in your interests too. Nothing sells quite like scandal.’

‘You’ll forgive me, Jonathan, but that’s an utterly false characterisation of me, of Eliot and of the book. The Atticus Pünd novels have sold almost twenty million copies worldwide without any help from Miriam Crace, and there will certainly be huge interest in a tenth outing.’

‘Why do you think Eliot was hired?’

‘Because he’s a good writer. Why else?’

Jonathan sneered. ‘You really don’t know anything, do you!’

I had no idea what he meant by that, but I forged on anyway. ‘I went to Marble Hall because I was worried about Eliot.’

‘Well, let me try and get something into your head, Susan. Nothing happened there. People may have different memories of my mother, but she was a brilliant writer and creator who died from a heart attack at the age of eighty-two. A perfectly natural death with not a whiff of suspicion. That’s all there is to it. And if you or Eliot suggest otherwise – either in your book or in the publicity surrounding it – I can assure you that you will find yourselves in very serious legal hot water.’

He’d already made that threat once. Making it a second time only halved its effectiveness.

‘Perhaps I can step in?’ Roland suggested. He had addressed himself to his uncle, but now he turned to me. ‘Eliot and I grew up together and I probably know him better than anyone in the world. Except Gillian, of course. I’ve said all along that I’m sure he wouldn’t deliberately do anything to damage the estate.

‘At the same time, though, this is a critical moment for us. If you’ve looked in the trade press, you’ll know that we’ve been in discussions with Netflix and that we’re about to sign a major deal that will bring Grandma’s characters, the Little People, to a whole new generation. My job mainly concerns press and public relations – the family image. So I can’t impress upon you enough how important it is right now that we don’t do anything or say anything that could rock the boat.’

‘A deal worth two hundred million dollars,’ Jonathan growled. ‘They’re talking about a feature film followed by five seasons of a television series, just to kick off with. They’re lining up some of the biggest names in Hollywood to perform the characters and I hardly need tell you that they will go to any lengths to protect their interests. We’re not going to sit here and let Eliot put a spanner in the works. I’m not going to let that happen.’

‘I’m sure that’s not Eliot’s intention.’ Roland was doing everything he could to placate his uncle.

‘Eliot needs to be kept under control.’

‘Isn’t that what Susan’s doing? I think we should be working on this together, Uncle Jon. It’s in all our interests to ensure that Eliot’s book is a success. That’s certainly my hope, anyway.’

Was he being completely sincere? I couldn’t be sure, but at least Jonathan Crace seemed to have calmed down. ‘That’s why I wanted you here, Roland. I think, moving forward, you and Ms Ryeland should stay in close communication. Obviously, I wouldn’t want to harm Eliot in any way. He may not have much time for us, but he’s still family.’

I didn’t believe a word of that. Nor, I think, did he.

‘Eliot has been commissioned to write a book and maybe if we’d heard about that earlier, we could have done something about it – but it’s too late now.’ Jonathan’s eyes in their rectangular frames settled on me. ‘But now that you know the stakes, Susan, I’m sure we can rely on you to keep him in line.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ I promised him.

‘Shall I show you out?’ Roland said.

The two of them stood up. And just like that, the meeting was over.

Roland Crace