Melody of Murder Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Recent Titles by Stella Cameron From Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Recent Titles by Stella Cameron from Severn House

  The Alex Duggins series

  FOLLY

  OUT COMES THE EVIL

  MELODY OF MURDER

  Other Titles

  SECOND TO NONE

  NO STRANGER

  ALL SMILES

  SHADOWS

  MELODY OF MURDER

  Stella Cameron

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2016

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  Trade paperback edition first published 2016 in Great

  Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2016 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2016 by Stella Cameron.

  The right of Stella Cameron to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Cameron, Stella author.

  Melody of murder.

  1. Duggins, Alex (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

  2. Murder–Investigation–Fiction. 3. Cotswold Hills

  (England)–Fiction. 4. Detective and mystery stories.

  I. Title

  813.5’4-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-084-3 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-698-5 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-759-2 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  For Pamela –Time to fly over the rainbow.

  PROLOGUE

  ‘When did you become so attached to this house?’

  Elyan rested his fingers on the piano keys and said nothing. He avoided his father’s pale hard eyes.

  ‘Elyan, this behavior is unacceptable,’ Percy Quillam said in his deceptively soft tones. A nerve twitched under his right eye, a twitch Elyan knew too well. ‘You’ve told me far too often that this house is pretentious and you hate it. For you, I’ve secured a perfect property in the Cotswolds for the next six months. You have a concert tour to prepare for and we need to remove you from any distractions. We need peace, and nothing must disturb our concentration. Folly-on-Weir is the perfect solution.’

  Fury tightened Elyan’s throat. As always, his father was manipulating him, advancing the grand Percy Quillam plan for total control of his son.

  ‘I never heard of this place you’re talking about until now, Father. I’d rather stay here. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t need any reminders to practice. You know I’m comfortable in Hampstead. It’s a bad idea to change the routine now.’

  ‘Not possible to back out. The arrangements have been made and I’ve signed a contract. I’ve discussed everything with Sebastian and he absolutely agrees with me. So does Wells. So does your mother. She’s the one who found the property we’ll move into.’

  Sebastian Carstens had been Elyan’s piano teacher since Percy decided ten-year-old Elyan had outgrown his first teacher. His training started at age four. Wells Giglio was his agent and assigned wholly to the whims of the Quillams with whom he spent an inordinate amount of time.

  Sebastian was one of the few adults Elyan trusted. To hear that he had a part in this sudden dramatic change shook Elyan.

  ‘Why is this the first time I’ve heard of it?’ As if he didn’t know. His father wanted him away from London. Here it was too easy for him to escape and even a few hours of freedom was more than his father could allow him with any grace. Had Percy found out about his son’s night-time excursions from the house? Percy Quillam was afraid his son, the center of all his own ambitions, might throw everything up for freedom. Elyan wished the thought brought him satisfaction but he had to deal with his own demons, especially the one that made him afraid of what his father would do if he lost the focus for his existence. ‘Father,’ Elyan prompted quietly, ‘why the secrecy?’

  ‘You are so highly strung, my boy. Which is only to be expected. We thought it best to deal with the details and present them without worrying you with any decisions.’ Those light blue eyes flickered toward the windows, and back. ‘We’re having Annie’s parents to dinner tomorrow evening. I’ve already had a word with her father. That was something else I wanted to do before speaking to you.’

  Sliding to the end of the piano bench, his heart thudding at his eardrums, Elyan deliberately let his hands hang relaxed between his knees as he faced his father.

  A solid man of medium height, his thick gray hair slicked back into a tail at his nape, Percy seemed unshakably sure of himself, but Elyan had come to see his parent as more thwarted artist living through his child than the artist’s proud father, the image he had worked so hard to perfect.

  Percy favored long velvet jackets of a studied, outmoded, relaxed cut with silk cravats, loosely tied at the necks of his collarless shirts. Streaked by sunlight through Venetian blinds and floor-to-ceiling diaphanous white draperies, he stood with head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. In the ivory and white music room, stark but for the formal, gilt-trimmed, gold damask chairs and a couch grouped around an empty marble fireplace – and Elyan’s Steinway – the man resembled a subject from an early nineteenth-
century painting.

  He was waiting his son out as usual, waiting for him to break the silence with the wrong response, or better yet, a passive acceptance. Acceptance became harder for Elyan to utter without feeling weak and a failure.

  Let him have part of his way, it wasn’t time to rock the boat. ‘And?’ Elyan said when he thought he could control the urge to shout. ‘What else is it you want to say?’

  The eye tick returned. ‘I wish you would give me credit for wanting only the best for you, my son. You are something rare and brilliant. Everything I do, I do to nurture your talent. You are not ordinary. You never will be – but you must be led. You have a public. They are the ones who fill every seat at your concerts and cry in awe at the very sight of you in the flesh. We, your closest confidants and supporters, Sebastian, Wells and I live to smooth your way and make sure you need only be concerned with your magnificent music. This entire household adores you.

  ‘Eighteen is a difficult age. We have to balance your … urges for the mundane with the fact that music, serious music, is your past, present and future. Maturity will show you I’ve been right.’

  How often, Elyan wondered, must he be embarrassed by Percy’s extravagant declarations? Sometimes he thought his father might be mad, but then he would hear and see him interact with those who had nothing to do with all this and the doubt faded a little, at least for a while. ‘You were telling me about the Bells coming to dinner,’ he said, deliberately pleasant. The news didn’t bode well. They were his girlfriend, Annie’s, parents and Percy would undoubtedly prefer the entire family to disappear. Such an invitation had never been made before.

  He would see Annie tonight, just as they had planned, and some of the anger and fear would disappear. ‘I thought we didn’t have dinner parties. You don’t like them.’ The Bells were too ordinary for the Quillams and there was nothing to be gained from encouraging them.

  ‘This will be simple,’ Percy said, absently tugging on today’s mossy green and black cravat. ‘A simple meal among friends. You see, I understand you better than you think I do, and I also remember being a very young man myself. These fleeting friendships seem more important than life at your age, but I don’t criticize you for that. I want you to indulge in … whatever. As long as it doesn’t interfere.’

  Fleeting friendships? What he and Annie had wasn’t fleeting, it was real. The urge to tell his father what he thought of him and walk out was more than appealing. ‘You were talking about the Bells, Father?’ And it wasn’t as if Percy Quillam was more immune to women now than he always had been. He’d married Elyan’s mother only weeks after his first wife died. Shortly after the marriage, Elyan, already four months old, had been whisked back from a supposed lengthy hospitalization for some mythical newborn ailment and hidden away in Percy’s household until the man decided it was safe to allow his son to be seen in public. Elyan had deduced this sequence – easily – from dates of death and birth. So dear Percy had been bedding Sonia while his first wife was dying.

  Percy’s cravat suffered another yank. ‘The Bells have accepted my invitation and, at least in theory, the suggestions your mother and I have made.’

  Had there ever been a time when his father’s smile had not brought Elyan out in a rash of goosebumps? His mother, as subservient as she was with Percy, didn’t tend to keep from Elyan anything she decided he would want to know. That she’d kept quiet this time was another sign that there were difficulties to come. Sonia Quillam was twenty-five years younger than her husband and as hard as it was to admit, Elyan knew she was afraid of Percy, not physically, but because he held the power in every facet of her life … and her son’s. Taken in by Percy’s dazzling courtship, Sonia had given up a career as a promising orchestral violinist, or so their longtime housekeeper, Meeker, had confided in one of her ‘moments’. Meeker’s moments usually loosened her tongue when she was out of sorts with Percy.

  Whatever Percy wanted, Percy got.

  If Elyan broke away he might set his career back but he would climb out of that in time. It was his mother who would suffer most.

  ‘Your mother and I are hoping the Bells will allow Annie to spend a day or two each week, or perhaps every other week, with us at Green Friday.’

  He frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  Percy gave his inevitable two barks of laughter. ‘Foolish name. Ridiculous. But that’s what the house is called and the new owner apparently thinks it’s fetchingly different. It’s a beautiful place and we’ve got it for the rest of the spring and the summer. You and Annie will be able to walk and enjoy the lovely surroundings. And there is always riding.’

  ‘That would be nice if we could ride. I don’t know about Annie, but I’ve never been on a horse.’ He gave his most guileless smile. ‘Never too late to learn, Father?’

  His father studied his hands and made a noncommittal sound. He did his best to keep Elyan from any activity that could cause injury.

  ‘Is there a tennis court?’

  Percy frowned, narrowed his eyes then let out a little puff of air. ‘Yes, yes, your mother said so. I remember now. She mentioned wanting to play again herself.’

  So his mother played tennis – or had at some point. ‘Is it a good court? You might want a game yourself.’

  ‘Not my thing.’ Percy looked peeved. ‘I didn’t go into the grounds for a good look around. You and Sebastian can play. Wells, when he comes down. And Annie, of course.’

  Elyan raised his brows but said nothing. He knew he was loved – as much as his father was capable of loving anyone. It was natural for an eighteen-year-old to need a little room for his growing wings, but that wouldn’t stop Father’s anxiety. ‘Where’s Mother? Shouldn’t she be in on this?’ Not that she was ever included in serious discussions. ‘And Laura?’

  ‘Your mother’s joining us as soon as she gets in. She’ll be thrilled you’re happy about what we’ve decided. I’ll speak to Laura.’

  It cost so little, almost nothing, to beat back the temptation to be sullen. A smile was a cheap price for peace. And this evening he’d see Annie. They would laugh and kiss a little, maybe a lot. Elyan was glad of his long cotton sweater. His body had a mind of its own and he spent a lot of time thinking about being alone with Annie, really alone.

  A day or so each week, or every other week, with Annie? What did they have in mind? That she would drive or be driven there and back in the same day? That they would have no private time? Probably. So far he and Annie had managed to conceal the hours they spent together, usually in one of the less trendy Hampstead coffee houses that had become their special places. Sebastian helped them, although he made sure to drop casual warnings against ‘getting carried away’ and the horrors that would follow if they did. In other words, sex is evil and could ruin your life. Elyan doubted Annie’s welfare entered into the cracked equation. Holy hell.

  Why hadn’t Sebastian warned him about the Cotswolds plans? Wells thought of nothing but squeezing the money cow and staying on the right side of Percy, but Sebastian?

  Father cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking that your sister is too much alone.’

  ‘Laura?’ Laura was Elyan’s half-sister, his father’s child by his first wife. Her mother had died and although Sonia was careful to include her, Percy scarcely seemed to notice his daughter unless he was out of sorts and she made a convenient target. Of late she had grown more distant, as if she was always following her own secret thoughts. She still liked to join Elyan on his stealthy escapes from the house to meet Annie. They liked her enough, felt sympathetic enough, not to resent her being there – or not obviously. ‘Yes, I think so too, Father. She’s so much more confident now. I can tell. She wants to sing professionally. That would be great. She’s so good. With some encouragement—’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Percy waved a dismissive hand. ‘How could you suggest such a thing. She isn’t strong and you know we have been concerned about her recently. Her heart condition is serious and no daughter of mine would be en
couraged to sing the sort of popular rubbish she’s interested in anyway.’

  He thought a lot about Laura. Four years his senior, she ‘wasn’t strong’, as Percy put it. A childhood illness had left her with a compromised heart. It was true that she went through low times when she seemed to deteriorate, but she improved again. She was in a good place now. Laura had things she wanted to do and she wasn’t listened to, other than by Sebastian and Elyan – and Wells Giglio whom Elyan suspected had a less innocent interest in Laura than was commonly supposed. Wasn’t it better to do what you loved for as long as you could, rather than exist in a sort of emotional twilight? Her life seemed on hold. Perhaps she would come this evening – he looked away; he and Annie needed more time alone, especially now.

  ‘But blues isn’t what you think. It’s real. Some of the best clubs in the world are in London and—’

  ‘Your sister will never be well enough for the kind of life you’re talking about, dammit!’ He dragged a chair from beside the fireplace, arranged it to face Elyan and sat down with elbows on knees and fingers steepled. ‘Don’t mention it again. Our thinking is that to give Annie a more leisurely time with us at Green Friday, she could share Laura’s room and occasionally spend the night if she wants to. It would be lovely for both of them. They get along well and they could go about together while you’re practicing. That way you wouldn’t have to think about entertaining Annie whenever she’s there.’

  Not even subtle. If he protested that he wanted to be with her, would be with her every moment if he could find a way, he would work against himself.