on, so I dropped them and shot across the room to get my shorts. There wasn’t time to get dressed so I stuffed the letter into one of the side pockets. I just managed it before Jack came in.
I heard him behind me and jerked round. He’d said something, but I didn’t catch it. “Wh—oh, right, the cigarettes. No. I haven’t. Found them. I was just putting the meat in the fridge. We left it on the table. In the sun. I didn’t want you to get food poisoning.” I made a face. Jack gave me an odd look. I scooped up my T-shirt and bundled it together with the shorts, muttered something about nipping upstairs to get dressed, and ran out of the room before he had a chance to say anything. “Back in a sec!” I took the stairs three at a time and locked myself into the upstairs loo.
My hands were trembling as I pulled out the contents of the envelope. A newspaper cutting fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and saw the headline: COMIC’S CAR IN DEATH-PLUNGE RIDDLE . Beside it was a photograph of Lenny. I read the bit underneath— WAS SUICIDE FUNNYMAN A KILLER? —and sat down on the wooden loo seat with a bump.
A car containing human remains belonged to dead comedian Lenny Maxted, say police. A record drop in water levels led to the gruesome discovery in a lake on the 100-acre Ivar Park estate in Wiltshire last week. The blue Aston Martin DB6 was spotted by a film crew working at Ivar Park House. Former owner Viscount Deveraux, who became earl of Ivar on the death of his father in 1966, spent his fortune on drugs and celebrity parties at the stately home. Lenny Maxted and his partner Jack Flowers were frequent guests.
In 1970, Lenny Maxted’s body was discovered in a cottage on the Ivar Park estate after a three-day orgy of drugs and booze. He had hanged himself. Aged just 40 at the time of his death, he had shocked viewers of the TV show Close Up a few months before by confessing that he was an alcoholic. Tragic Lenny told pals he’d sold the sports car—but it was still registered in his name. Police are still trying to identify the remains, which are thought to be female. But was her death the result of a drunken, drug-fuelled accident—or was it murder? Did guilt drive Maxted to end his own life so close to the scene of the tragedy? Police are seeking to interview Maxted’s former partner, Jack Flowers, in connection with the discovery. Ivar Park House, which was featured in a series of horror films, has stood empty since Marcus Deveraux’s death in 1973. He died of a heroin overdose—aged just 34.
I read the cutting a second time, then a third. Well, I say “read”—my eyes were moving over the words, but I could barely take them in. Judging by the type, it came from a tabloid, but there wasn’t a name or date. I turned the scrap of paper over and stared stupidly at NEW STIMULA, THE CONTRACEPTIVE SHEATH THAT LIVES UP TO ITS PROMISE . Lenny couldn’t have killed anyone. He just couldn’t.
I turned the cutting over and looked at it again. Accident . . . Murder . . . thought to be female . . . It had to be Kitty. They’d gone to that party together, after I’d walked out on him, I knew that. I’d been to Granddad’s funeral the week before. I was only away a few days, but when I came back I’d found some of Kitty’s clothes, stuff I recognised, on our bed. We were living in a pretty little house in Chelsea at the time, and Lenny wasn’t in so I took Kitty’s things onto the balcony and threw them—shoes, underwear, the lot—into the street so they landed all over the trees and cars, then I packed a suitcase and legged it. I didn’t leave a note.
James Clarke-Dibley took me to the party. I didn’t want to go, but he persuaded me and I spent the whole time dancing with him to show Lenny I didn’t care, but all I could think about was him and Kitty together, and I felt so miserable . . .
I looked at the paper again. Tragic Lenny told pals he’d sold the sports car —that’s what
I heard him behind me and jerked round. He’d said something, but I didn’t catch it. “Wh—oh, right, the cigarettes. No. I haven’t. Found them. I was just putting the meat in the fridge. We left it on the table. In the sun. I didn’t want you to get food poisoning.” I made a face. Jack gave me an odd look. I scooped up my T-shirt and bundled it together with the shorts, muttered something about nipping upstairs to get dressed, and ran out of the room before he had a chance to say anything. “Back in a sec!” I took the stairs three at a time and locked myself into the upstairs loo.
My hands were trembling as I pulled out the contents of the envelope. A newspaper cutting fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and saw the headline: COMIC’S CAR IN DEATH-PLUNGE RIDDLE . Beside it was a photograph of Lenny. I read the bit underneath— WAS SUICIDE FUNNYMAN A KILLER? —and sat down on the wooden loo seat with a bump.
A car containing human remains belonged to dead comedian Lenny Maxted, say police. A record drop in water levels led to the gruesome discovery in a lake on the 100-acre Ivar Park estate in Wiltshire last week. The blue Aston Martin DB6 was spotted by a film crew working at Ivar Park House. Former owner Viscount Deveraux, who became earl of Ivar on the death of his father in 1966, spent his fortune on drugs and celebrity parties at the stately home. Lenny Maxted and his partner Jack Flowers were frequent guests.
In 1970, Lenny Maxted’s body was discovered in a cottage on the Ivar Park estate after a three-day orgy of drugs and booze. He had hanged himself. Aged just 40 at the time of his death, he had shocked viewers of the TV show Close Up a few months before by confessing that he was an alcoholic. Tragic Lenny told pals he’d sold the sports car—but it was still registered in his name. Police are still trying to identify the remains, which are thought to be female. But was her death the result of a drunken, drug-fuelled accident—or was it murder? Did guilt drive Maxted to end his own life so close to the scene of the tragedy? Police are seeking to interview Maxted’s former partner, Jack Flowers, in connection with the discovery. Ivar Park House, which was featured in a series of horror films, has stood empty since Marcus Deveraux’s death in 1973. He died of a heroin overdose—aged just 34.
I read the cutting a second time, then a third. Well, I say “read”—my eyes were moving over the words, but I could barely take them in. Judging by the type, it came from a tabloid, but there wasn’t a name or date. I turned the scrap of paper over and stared stupidly at NEW STIMULA, THE CONTRACEPTIVE SHEATH THAT LIVES UP TO ITS PROMISE . Lenny couldn’t have killed anyone. He just couldn’t.
I turned the cutting over and looked at it again. Accident . . . Murder . . . thought to be female . . . It had to be Kitty. They’d gone to that party together, after I’d walked out on him, I knew that. I’d been to Granddad’s funeral the week before. I was only away a few days, but when I came back I’d found some of Kitty’s clothes, stuff I recognised, on our bed. We were living in a pretty little house in Chelsea at the time, and Lenny wasn’t in so I took Kitty’s things onto the balcony and threw them—shoes, underwear, the lot—into the street so they landed all over the trees and cars, then I packed a suitcase and legged it. I didn’t leave a note.
James Clarke-Dibley took me to the party. I didn’t want to go, but he persuaded me and I spent the whole time dancing with him to show Lenny I didn’t care, but all I could think about was him and Kitty together, and I felt so miserable . . .
I looked at the paper again. Tragic Lenny told pals he’d sold the sports car —that’s what
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