Death of a Lady (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 1)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Is this exactly how she left it, do you know?' asked Felix.

  'Oh no, sir. The police came and searched it. They made quite a mess and it had to be cleared up after.'

  'Would you have known if anything was missing? We know about the wedding jewellery.'

  'No, sir. It was Miss Brown who'd have known what was here and what wasn't, and by then she'd gone.'

  'Did you know Miss Brown very well? Did you like her?'

  Miss Fripp smiled in recollection. 'Yes, sir, I knew her pretty well. Some thought her stuck up, but she was perfectly all right with me and Mary. She was a bit highly strung and we used to tease her about it, but she always took it in good part. We didn't have any family left, me and her, which sort of drew us together. I missed her when she went. Still do.'

  'Did you think it strange, the way she left?'

  'Yes, sir, I did. She fairly worshipped Lady Genny, and was expecting to go with her to Hoddersham. Full of it, she was. But I can imagine her getting upset and flouncing off, and then perhaps regretting it. Once you've done that, sir, they wouldn't want you back.'

  'Bedroom, bathroom and dressing-room through there,' reported Rattigan, who had briefly disappeared. 'All neat and tidy.'

  'Personal effects?'

  'Not set out. There's the usual stuff in the drawers and so on.'

  'I've put it all away, sir,' said Miss Fripp, 'because of the dust.'

  Felix nodded. It was a big suite to search, with little chance of finding anything after so much disruption. 'Miss Fripp, may we trespass on your time with a few more questions? Are you able to tell us where to find Lord Andrew's rooms, or is that privileged information?'

  'I don't know about that, sir,' said Miss Fripp doubtfully. 'But I don't think I ought to let you in there without asking.'

  'No, that's all right. But if you could just tell us where they are.'

  'They're just along from this one, towards the main stairs. Lord George's are in between, although they're not used, of course, since they moved to the south wing. Years ago now, that was, but I still has to clean them.'

  'And the Major's?'

  'Just beyond, sir. He doesn't use it much nowadays, either.'

  'Good. Now, if we could just step outside for a moment.' He led the way to the door. 'Let me get this straight. Turning right would take us past Lord George's, Lord Andrew's and Major Mortimer's rooms, and if we kept going we'd get to the main stairs. Is that right?'

  'Yes, sir. If you didn't want to go down, you'd need to go left when you get to that picture of the roses. If you were to go right and past the stairs, you'd end up in Her Grace's apartments, or back here, eventually.'

  'Thank you. I think I'd like to avoid that. And if we were to turn left from here, where would we get to?'

  'It goes round in a circle. If you stuck to the main corridor, you'd come back to the roses again, but there's also a light-well in the middle with rooms looking onto it and an inner corridor running round, and some stairs that go down to the second floor.'

  'That's in addition to the main stairs and backstairs?'

  'Yes, and there's more just like it at the south end. It's a real warren.'

  'And who occupies the rooms in the northern part of the house, beyond the backstairs?'

  'Nobody, sir. They're all empty. I don't think there's even any furniture in most of them, although I don't know for certain as I've never been in them.'

  'Would that have been the case at the time of the wedding?'

  'Yes, sir. It's been like that since I came here. I always think it's a bit creepy, all them empty rooms and no-one ever going there. I shouldn't want to be there at night.'

  'So it's unlikely anyone would have gone in that direction on wedding night?'

  'No, sir, not beyond the backstairs turning, unless they were lost. Or Lady Genny might have done, I suppose, during the bothering, as there would be lots of places to hide.'

  'It's a wonder a bride was ever caught, by the sound of it. Did the police search all those rooms, do you know?'

  'Yes, sir, every one of them. They had to, just in case.'

  And returning to the backstairs, is it normal for members of the family to use them at all, perhaps as a short cut?'

  'Oh no, sir, they wouldn't do that. I can't say they never do but they wouldn't normally. It's part of below stairs, so to say.'

  'Miss Fripp, thank you. You've been marvellously helpful. Just one more thing. Do you happen to know who was living in the bedrooms opposite the attic, at the time of the wedding? No-one else seems to, and there are no records.'

  Miss Fripp produced one of her doleful smiles. 'That doesn't surprise me, sir. I'm about the only one as would know, apart perhaps from Miss Yates, although I'm a bit surprised Mr Pearson doesn't. Anyway, I do, because I was up there myself. There was Mary Bennett, Hilda Staunton, Ginny Brown and me. I don't think there ever was anyone in the other four. They're horrible pokey little rooms, sir, with tiny windows you can't hardly open. Circular, they are — the windows, that is. They were like ovens in summer and cold as charity in winter. There was no-one beneath them to send up a bit of heat, you see, because, like I said, that part of the house isn't used, so you froze. Come on, I'll show you.'

  'If you're sure?'

  'Yes. Just let me get rid of this bucket.'

  'So I was right, Teddy,' whispered Felix. 'She went to see her maid!'

  'Perhaps,' said Rattigan noncommittally. 'Pity she didn't tell us this before.'

  'Well, in fairness, we didn't ask her.'

  Leading them to the green-baize door, Gladys Fripp stumped wearily up the backstairs to the top landing and turned down the narrow passage opposite the fatal attic. Facing them was the fire-escape door, and on the left were eight numbered rooms. 'To think Her Ladyship was so near us all that time,' she said. 'It fair makes your flesh creep. This was mine.' She threw open the door to number two. 'I haven't been up here since we left, and I shouldn't think anyone else has either.'

  As if in confirmation, unpleasantly stale air exhaled from the low-ceilinged room, which still contained an upright chair, a washstand and a heavy iron bedstead. Thick cobwebs obscured the tiny window, which matched in size and shape the ones across the landing.

  'Not locked, then?'

  'Servants' rooms don't have locks, sir.'

  'No, I suppose not. What's in here? Oh, a cupboard. That's a decent size anyway.'

  'About the only good thing about it. I hated it.'

  'How did they come to be abandoned?'

  'Well, when Ginny left there was just the three of us. Then after the war two of the girls in the south attic died of the influenza – we all had it, just about – and Mrs Legg, that's the old housekeeper, said we could have their rooms, only we'd have to fight over who got them. No-one wanted to be left alone up here, of course, but me and Mary were good pals so we said we'd share and Hilda could have the other. The south ones are quite a bit bigger than these, so it was no hardship. Then Mary went to look after her widowed father so I got it to myself. I'm still there. It's got a proper window and a nice view of the lake.'

  'Can you show us Miss Brown's room, Miss Fripp?'

  'It's number one, sir, next door. It's exactly the same as this.'

  'Let's look anyway, eh?'

  There was no difference, even to the furniture. The chair was broken.

  'Tell me,' said Felix. 'As a lady's maid, wouldn't Miss Brown have been senior to you, at that time? I'm wondering why she was obliged to take this sort of room. Were not better ones available?'

  'Oh yes, sir, she was, and we had to call her Miss Brown in front of other people, although she was just Ginny to us. I don't know if she could have had a better room but she might have preferred this one, being so close to Lady Genny. Her Ladyship had only to stick her head around the service door and call up and Ginny would hear her.'

  'And did she do that often?'

  'Yes, sir, quite often.'

  'And would Lady Genny ever come up to Miss Bro
wn's room?'

  'Oh no, she'd never do that. She'd just call out and Ginny would go down.'

  'Miss Fripp,' said Felix. 'I can't thank you enough. I do hope we haven't put you behind in your work.'

  'That's all right, sir; I don't suppose it matters much.' She took a last look around her and sighed despondently. 'Where do they go, sir, the years?'

  Felix watched her plodding flat-footed downstairs. 'If I had three wishes,' he said, 'I'd bring her Albert back.'

  'And about a million other Alberts,' grunted Rattigan.

  Looking into the other rooms – mostly empty – they made their way to the end of the passage, where Rattigan forced open the fire door. A cool breeze plucked at their coats. 'Sam was right; I shouldn't care to step onto that. Look, the metal's rusted out at the brickwork.'

  'Yes, nasty. It might have been solid enough then, of course. I wonder if Lord Andrew was coming up here?'

  'I suppose he might have been about to follow his sister, if he'd seen her go by.'

  'Yes, he might, if only out of curiosity. Let's go and see the Maidments.'

  'Hello, sir,' said Dick, running a trowel-full of plaster over the ceiling. 'You'll be glad to hear we've nearly finished. Another day or so probably.'

  'I can never see how you do that,' said Rattigan, watching him. 'You'd think it would fall off.'

  'Quite a lot o' it do,' said Joseph dryly. ''ere, what d'ye meake o' thease?' Digging in his pocket, he produced a silver button.

  'That's interesting. Were did you find it?'

  'On the floor, anigh where the trunk were a-standin.' I do doubt we'd a-seen en now, it bein' s'dark with the roof on.'

  'May I have it?'

  'Yers, if 'e be any use to 'e.'

  Felix took out an envelope and dropped the button into it. 'Thank you very much, Mr Maidment. Well spotted.'

  'I d'reckon,' confided Joseph, ''e a-come off a footman. 'e do 'ave the Duke's arms on en, like on the gates.'

  'It may very well have,' agreed Felix. 'Was it lying on top of the dust or covered with it? Can you remember?'

  'I would'n say 'e were thick with it, Inspector. 'Just a sprinkle like. And when I a-picked en up, there were dust unnerneath; though I d'reckon it a-bin a-fallin' up 'ere for hunnerds o' years. It do fairly choke a chap sometimes.'

  'You don't happen to have seen an oil-lamp among this lot, do you?' asked Rattigan. 'Or a candle? Stump of a candle, even?'

  The Maidments shook their heads.

  'There could be something,' said Dick. 'But where would you start?'

  'Job for the lads, sir?' suggested Rattigan. 'It might have dabs on it.'

  'Yes, it might.' Felix peered doubtfully around him. It could take days, he thought, but the killer must have used some sort of light, and where better to hide it? 'What are you gents doing when you finish here?' he asked. 'Got another job to go to?'

  They stopped on the landing to examine the button.

  'That's twice we've made a liar out of Pearson,' said Rattigan.

  'Though not forgetting there were four other footmen then.'

  'Yes, but it must have been him she saw, because of the limp.'

  'That doesn't prove its his button. Joe Maidment, you're a chump! Look, he must have cleaned it; you'd scarcely know it from a new one. It'd be impossible now to say when or where it was dropped.'

  'Except we know. And it was dropped before the wardrobe was put across. I know you can't even say that for certain, but it seems likely.'

  'Yes, but how long before? There's no telling now. What made you ask if Pearson was limping anyway?'

  'Just a hunch, sir. Can't tell you why.'

  Chapter 10

  Arriving early on the third day of their investigations, Felix and Rattigan found their borrowed office already warmed by a cosy fire. It seemed that whatever the Duchess might think of them, others at Godwinstowe wanted them to feel at home.

  'Alice's granny this morning then,' said Felix, 'and possibly the carrier fellow who took Miss Brown to the station. You never know, he might remember something useful.' He looked up at the crunch of wheels on gravel. 'Hello, who's this?'

  A Bentley tourer and a silvery Frazer Nash had pulled up outside and young people in evening dress were scrambling out of them. Felix was surprised to see that the Bentley was driven by a young and rather pretty girl. Stepping long-legged over the door-less driver's side, she ran round the car and helped extract a semi-comatose man from the passenger seat before supporting him towards the house.

  'Whatever is that child wearing?' said Rattigan, who was old enough to be disapproving. 'Looks like it got caught in the mangle.'

  'Height of fashion, Teddy,' grinned Felix. 'And unless I'm much mistaken, this is the prodigal's return.' He slipped across to the door and cracked it open.

  'Hello Pearson, old bean,' slurred a clearly inebriated Lord Andrew. 'Home is the hunter, what? How's tricks?'

  'Good morning, My Lord,' said the butler, managing to sound both disapproving and respectful. 'I believe, sir, you may find it desirable to sit down. If you would kindly help him over here, miss. Thank you — most kind. Sam, kindly telephone to Lord George.'

  Felix stepped into the hall to find the man lolling on a low chair. His legs were stretched out in front of him and two of his young friends were holding him upright. He turned blearily to the interloper and frowned. 'Who the hell are you?'

  Pearson introduced them. 'Lord Andrew Mortimer, this gentleman is Detective Inspector Felix of Scotland Yard.'

  'Good morning, My Lord,' said Felix.

  Lord Andrew stared at him unblinking — the now familiar Mortimer pause. 'I wasn't driving, officer,' he slurred. Then, smiling foolishly, he slid to the floor.

  'Actually, I was,' sighed the girl.

  Felix regarded her with interest. 'Then perhaps you'll step this way for a moment, miss.'

  'I might as well tell you, I'm not registered,' she said, preceding him into the office. 'Are you going to lock me up?'

  Felix smiled. 'That depends. First, a few questions. This is Sergeant Rattigan.'

  'I'm Cathy Wilton.' She sat down unbidden, crossed her legs, and taking out her cigarette case, accepted a light from Felix.

  'If you don't mind me asking,' said Felix. 'What is your relationship with His Lordship?'

  Miss Wilton looked momentarily blank. 'Oh, sorry — there isn't one. We only met him last night. This morning, I mean. We were at a nightclub in Town and we sort of drifted together. It was advertised as never closing, but after about five o'clock they started putting chairs on tables and looking meaningful, so Andrew said we should continue the party at his place. He was completely and utterly blotto by then, so Ferdie – that's my fiancé – drove our own car and I drove the Bentley. They're rather super, aren't they? When we're married I shall make him buy me one.'

  'He'll need deep pockets for that,' smiled Felix. 'Aren't you tired, driving all that way after a night out?'

  Miss Wilton yawned decorously. 'I am a bit. I think the excitement kept me awake. The roads were pretty empty to start with and we simply flew. I expect we'll go home soon.'

  'I think you should. Tell me, did His Lordship have a girl with him, when you met?'

  'No, he was alone. He's rather sexy though, isn't he? Quite the sheik.'

  'You'll be the best judge of that. Did he talk about himself at all — what he does, when not getting drunk?'

  'Not to me. Why don't you ask him? Is he in trouble?'

  'Not that I'm aware of. And you came straight here from this nightclub? Do you happen to know if Lord Andrew has heard the news, about his sister?'

  'What news is that?'

  Felix told her.

  'Oh, the poor girl! I should hardly think so. That would have sobered him up pretty quickly, wouldn't it? We didn't stop on the way down, except once for petrol and a sandwich, and no-one bought a paper. I wondered why there were police at the gate.'

  'Didn't they want to know who you were?'

  'Yes. Th
ey weren't terribly friendly at first, but then a fellow came out of the lodge and said who it was and they let us in. I'd best tell the others. He won't want us here now, will he? And we can't all go back in our car, it's a two-seater. I wonder what we should do?'

  'Wait here.' Felix stepped back into the hall. There was no-one left but a tubercular-looking, unprepossessing young man. Therefore rich, he thought cynically. 'Do I have the honour of addressing Miss Wilton's fiancé?'

  The man observed him anxiously. 'Ferdinand Walls, Inspector. Are you going to arrest her?'

  'Not as long as you take her straight home. You're not looking after her very well, you know; she could easily have had an accident. And if she's going to drive, see that she gets herself registered. How old is she?'

  'Twenty-one.'

  'I'll interpret that as eighteen. Now I'm going to see about a lift for your friends.'

  Mr Walls looked relieved. 'Thank you, Inspector. It's all right about a lift; the butler has arranged something. He seems a good egg. I've just heard about Lady Genevieve. Rotten for the old boy. Well, more rotten for her, obviously. I remember my pater talking about it, when she disappeared.'

  'How did he take it?'

  'I don't know; his brother bore him away. It was the footman who told us. Give our condolences to the poor fellow, will you?'

  'Modern girls!' said Rattigan, shaking his head.

  'Well at least she was sober. There's something rather exciting about a girl driving a powerful car, don't you think? Like Lady George on her stallion.'

  'Is that the appeal? I thought it was the cornflower blue eyes. Anyway, it sounds as though you've met the black sheep of the family.'

  'There's always one, isn't there? It's more or less compulsory.'

  The ornamental lake appeared as neglected as the house. Much of it was covered with a scum of weed, and a pair of moorhens stood duty for the absent swans. Skirting its fringing willows, they crossed the ornamental bridge, passed the boathouse – artfully designed to resemble a Greek temple – and made their way to the east gate. The press had quickly learned it was seldom used and there was no-one there but a bored uniformed constable. Pausing to exchange a few words, they entered the village at the head of the short High Street.