‘Aaaagh,’ Billie let out a loud squeak.
‘What?’
He’d turned pale, his eyes round with fright. ‘Sir! You… you never said you was coming through the cellar, I wasn’t expecting… Oooh, that made me jump, that did.’
Fogg had come with me, and went sniffing along the stone-tiled floor.
‘Why isn’t this door locked?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
I ran my torch about. The cellars were actually a series of vaulted rooms, reminiscent of dungeons, and were as original as the old wing.
‘Are these the fuel stores?’ I could see stacks of logs filling one of the bays, others were empty and blackened with coal dust.
‘They are sir, but we don’t keep coal no more on account of the electric heating.’
‘Is there a door to the outside?’
‘I reckon so, only been down a couple of times and never on my own. Mr Trent would have logs brought up under his own eye, then he’d lock it all up again. For security you see. He was very careful about locking doors.’
‘How did you get down here, then?’
‘It weren’t locked, which was peculiar…’
‘Come on.’ I strode off.
‘It’s a bit scary, sir.’ Billie followed me on tiptoe for no good reason.
Our voices echoed in the dark. We found an alcove leading to a passageway. I shone the torch beam around the floor, but there were no signs of footprints or trailing mud. We came to a set of wooden steps leading upwards between two walls.
‘I reckon that goes up to all the family’s rooms above stairs, sir. In the old days, the maids would have taken coal to light the fires before the family woke up.’
They still did in many of the houses I was familiar with.
I gave the staircase a cursory flick of my torchlight, but was more interested in the door in the corner with sunlight showing under its base.
I went over and pulled the handle. It swung silently open.
‘The doors have been oiled, sir,’ Billie exclaimed.
‘Obviously,’ I replied.
Stone steps led upwards into an overgrown patch of bushes and trees. We were in Lady Millicent’s garden, Fogg spotted a chicken and ran off in chase. I called, but he wouldn’t come back.
‘Do you reckon someone’s been sneaking in and out of here?’ Billie looked about at the thick bushes concealing the steps.
‘Yes, blast it,’ I cursed, we should have found this earlier.
‘You mean the person what killed everybody?’ Billie’s eyes widened.
‘Come on, Billie, back inside.’
‘I’d rather stay out here, sir.’
‘With the murderer?’
He jumped and looked around, then ran back down the steps. I grinned and closed the door with a bang.
‘Billie, don’t mention this to anyone except Mr Mullins. Go and find him and tell him to lock all of these doors, use padlocks if necessary.’
‘Aye, sir.’ He dithered for a moment, staring about as though expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows before running off. I heard his footsteps echoing along the passage until they faded away, then I went back to find the wooden stairs leading up to the mansion.
I trotted up and paused, there were more stairs leading ahead. I knew I must be near the drawing room, but decided to investigate properly, so carried on to the very top and stepped out. It opened onto a corner of a remote corridor. I knew where I was; it was right next to the room where the broken lamp had been discovered. Satisfied that duty was done, I wandered back down and found my way to Sinclair’s office.
Swift was seated at the desk, looking over his notes.
‘Lennox, where the hell have you been?’ His mood hadn’t improved.
‘In the cellars, they run under the whole house, including the old wing. The killer’s been using them to sneak out through the orchard.’
‘Hell,’ his face fell. ‘We should have found that earlier.’
‘We had enough mysteries to keep our minds occupied,’ I replied.
‘But we could have secured it…’
‘Yes, fine.’ I was keen to get on and breakfast felt like a long time ago. ‘What did you discover from the interviews?’
‘Not very much. I questioned Max about whether the engine was warm when he started the boat – he said it was.’
‘He admitted it?’ That was unexpected.
‘He said he was going to tell us if we asked.’ He glanced at me. ‘He seemed to think it was some sort of test of our abilities.’
‘I hope you gave him a dressing down.’
‘Yes, for all the good it did.’ Swift’s lean face was drawn tight, his confidence flagging. ‘Look, we’ll go and search Sinclair’s bedroom and dust the cellar door for fingerprints.’
‘No, the police can do that when they arrive, we need lunch.’
‘Now, look Lennox. We’ve committed to this investigation…’
‘Exactly,’ I replied. ‘And we’re not going to solve it by following finicking procedures. This killer is far too clever to leave clues. We need logic, Swift, and I think better on a full stomach.’
He was ready to argue, but I turned to leave, then realised someone was missing. ‘Where’s Persi?’
‘Erm, she had a crisis of conscience,’ he admitted sheepishly.
‘A what?’
‘I might have upset her.’
‘Damn it Swift, she’s only just started talking to me again. What did you say?’
He sighed. ‘We interviewed everyone, then I dictated my morning report, including the discovery of the body, the time, weather conditions, all the relevant facts, and she made an excellent job of writing it all down. Then I listed the suspects, Max being the most likely culprit. She became upset and said that she felt like a traitor, helping to hang one of her own relatives.’ He reddened. ‘I pointed out that there was some truth in that, and she left.’
‘That was tactless.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Should I go and make amends?’
‘Actually, I think she might need to cool down first.’ He was on his feet. ‘Come on.’
We found Mullins and Billie coming up the find us.
‘I have questioned the staff about the unlocked doors, sir,’ Mullins explained in measured tone. ‘Nobody knows anything.’
‘It doesn’t say much for security, does it,’ Swift reasoned.
‘I suspect Mr Monroe held a spare key and Mr Trent was privy to the situation, sir.’ The old chap remarked. ‘It was known Mr Monroe could move about unhindered, but not how.’
‘Was a key found on the body?’ I asked.
‘Not to my knowledge, sir,’ Mullins replied.
‘There wasn’t anything in the police report.’ Swift said.
‘It could have been taken after he’d crashed the car,’ I remarked. It would have taken a cold heart to have searched the corpse, I thought.
‘We have a message, don’t we, Mr Mullins,’ Billie reminded him.
‘Ah, indeed. Lady Penelope would like a word, sirs. You will find her in the orangery.’
‘She’s not having lunch, by any chance?’ I enquired.
Mullins smiled beneath the moustache. ‘It is quite possible, sir.’
‘Excellent.’ That put a spring in my step and we headed to the pretty room overlooking the gardens.
Chapter 18
‘Do please sit down.’ Lady Penelope was seated in a wicker chair, encircled by fragrant flowers and perfumed shrubs.
There was a glass-topped table and more wicker seats, cushioned with silken fabrics, grouped around it. We sat as directed.
‘Lady Penelope.’ Swift was on a mission. ‘Where are the police?
She appeared composed, despite the tension in her jaw. ‘I ordered the servants not to call them.’
‘You… but…’ Swift spluttered, almost speechless. ‘It’s the law.’
‘One of the family did it. You must realise that as
well as I,’ she replied.
‘Yes, of course we do.’ Swift was terse.
‘So…’ She searched for her words. ‘I would like you to find the culprit, and then we will call the police.’
‘No,’ Swift reacted instantly.
‘Yes,’ I cut in. ‘We will.’
‘Lennox…’ he warned.
‘You said the local bobbies were out of their depth,’ I reminded him.
‘Please, Inspector,’ Lady Penelope appealed to him. ‘Nobody will escape justice, I’m not trying to cover up for anyone. I simply want to avoid tearing my family any further apart.’ She stopped and closed her lips tightly, trying not to cry.
‘If we can name the culprit and present them to Scotland Yard, we should, Swift,’ I was adamant. ‘They’ve already granted us authorisation to investigate. If they come here, you know how they will act. Everything will be picked apart and everyone will be a suspect. And that includes the old folk.’
I let that sink in. He knew it himself; he had a deep respect for the law, but also knew how harsh the turning of its wheels could be.
Mullins arrived which curtailed the debate. He was followed by a phalanx of footmen.
‘Lunch, m’lady,’ he announced.
‘Oh, Mullins, I really couldn’t,’ Lady Penelope protested.
‘The repast is designed for the gentlemen, m’lady, but chef has added a small dish of delicacies for you.’ Mullins lifted the silver cover from a china plate. ‘It is your favourite, smoked salmon with cream cheese, rolled in garden herbs and a small salad.’
‘Thank you, but…’ she tried again.
‘Lay it all out, Mullins,’ I told him. ‘We’ll help ourselves.’
‘Very well, sir.’
He arranged platters of the sort of fancy food the very wealthy have a penchant for. I have to admit it was superb. Slivers of marinaded duck, liver pâté on thin toast, black olives and gooseberries seeped in oil, discs of beef with creamy mustard, crab and cucumber canapés, warm bread rolls with churned butter and a choice of red or white wine for accompaniment. Lady Penelope nibbled some salmon, Swift and I polished off the rest.
‘Tea, to follow, or coffee?’ Mullins was all attention as footmen dashed in and out with dishes of this and that, rustling the long fronds of tropical plants as they passed through the greenery.
‘Coffee, please,’ we all agreed.
‘Jerome was convinced Sinclair was going to hand him the company…’ I began.
‘Yes, he had promised it to him,’ Lady Penelope replied quietly. ‘But Jerome should have realised he couldn’t trust Sinclair. He knew what he was like, he played games with people.’
‘Finn said it had been promised to him,’ Swift stated.
‘He was telling the truth,’ she admitted. ‘Sinclair was very impressed by Finn, he admired his initiative and energy. But no-one could trust Sinclair, what he promised or threatened one day, he would often rescind the next.’
That was true, we’d already witnessed it.
‘Did he leave a will?’ Swift asked.
The coffee arrived. There were little strawberry tarts and miniature chocolate eclairs.
Lady Penelope took a sip of black coffee before replying.
‘No, he refused to write one. He said that if they want his money they can fight for it.’
‘What about you?’ I asked.
‘I have an allowance,’ she replied quietly.
Swift nodded, then returned to the subject. ‘Sinclair knew when he signed the lease with St George that the funds wouldn’t go with it.’
Her eyes flicked away as I spoke.
‘You must have realised that,’ Swift accused her with soft words.
‘Not at first.’ She glanced at him. ‘Sinclair could be charming and generous, and he was to begin with. I thought we’d become a family, and he’d care for us all… we would be complete again. But his true nature was very different. He didn’t understand love and compassion, he acquired people, then he controlled them.’
‘Why didn’t you leave him?’ I asked the question that had niggled at my mind since I’d met her.
She paused to sip her coffee, I ate a few more tarts.
‘If I’d left, Sinclair would have forced everyone to leave with me.’ She regarded us with a steady gaze. ‘We’d all have lost our home. I thought I’d wait until the children were old enough, but then the war came. Max survived, thank the good Lord, and Lydia announced she and Jerome were going to marry. It seemed easier to stay.’ She sighed. ‘It isn’t a terrible life. I was accustomed to Sinclair, I knew what he was like, I think he even loved me in his way… In the end I decided to take the easier path.’
I watched her closely. Colour rose in her cheeks as we probed her private life; I was certain she was telling the truth.
‘So Max knew he wouldn’t have the funds to support this place,’ Swift stated.
‘You must understand Max’s nature, Inspector,’ she replied. ‘He doesn’t want to run the estate, he’d be happy in a cottage providing it has a workshop attached. He’d like to invent, as his father did. He has no desire to spend his life with this millstone around his neck.’
I caught Swift’s eye, I could see he was about to challenge her. I shook my head, and he closed his mouth.
‘Did you know Sinclair before you married Randolph?’ I asked. ‘He was local, wasn’t he?’
She looked up at that question. ‘He was local, but I wasn’t. Randolph didn’t know him either. Sinclair approached him because he’d heard about Randolph’s invention from some acquaintances.’
‘The metal detector, you mean?’ I remarked. ‘Sinclair said they took it to Alaska with them.’
‘Yes, it was meant to detect gold.’ A ghost of a smile touched her lips. ‘Sinclair said it was inadequate to the geology.’
‘Where were you living then?’ Swift had finished his coffee and put the little cup down on the table.
‘We’d settled in the old wing, but I had a very difficult pregnancy and we moved back to my parents’ house in Bath for the birth. The medical care was very good at the local hospital, but even so, I was terribly ill afterwards. I stayed there for some months before I was well enough to move about again.’
‘So, you weren’t here when Randolph and Sinclair left for Alaska?’ Swift prompted her.
‘No, none of us were. Millie and Bertie had come to Bath to help. They weren’t terribly good with babies, but they dearly wanted to be involved, and Lanscombe was…’
I finished her sentence. ‘A wreck.’
‘It was dreadful,’ she admitted. ‘My family were modest people, and when I told them I was going to marry Randolph St George and live at Lanscombe Park, they were terribly impressed. Then they came to visit and their reaction was really quite comical.’ She laughed quietly. I could see the young girl in her suddenly – very like Lydia, although more thoughtful.
‘Randolph wanted to make your fortunes,’ Swift led her back to the topic.
‘Yes, he thought it was his duty and it could help his career if the modified detector was a success,’ she replied.
‘Sinclair said it was merely the development of an existing idea,’ I mentioned.
‘It was, but it was a sophisticated development. Many people had been trying to create such a refinement and he was the first.’
‘Do you have any knowledge of these devices?’ I asked.
‘Oh yes, that’s how Randolph and I met. My father had a small manufacturary of instruments and Randolph came to buy tools from us. I helped in the office, but I was fascinated by the technology and when Randolph came to consult my father, he spotted me and asked if I could help him find what he was looking for. We fell in love over slide-rules and electrical transformers.’
‘You miss him?’ I suggested.
‘With all my heart,’ she replied with a shake in her voice. I could see she was tired and the shock of Sinclair’s murder was taking its toll.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.<
br />
‘And I’d like to express my condolences,’ Swift added, then checked his watch. ‘We should get back to it, Lennox.’
‘Wait,’ she raised her dark eyes. ‘What is going to happen now?’
‘We’ll investigate and tell you what we can,’ I said, then marched Swift through the greenery before he started another diatribe about the law.
Mullins stepped forward as we were leaving the orangery. ‘If you were contemplating a search of his Lordship’s rooms, I am available to assist, sir.’
‘Yes, fine, show us the way,’ Swift replied. ‘We need to get a move on.’
‘It doesn’t take both of us to search a room, Swift,’ I argued.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘See if you can find Finn. I couldn’t get him to open up, but you might be able to.’
‘Right, will do.’ I set off to hunt Finn down. He was flicking through a magazine in the drawing room.
‘If you’ve come looking for trouble, you’re in the right place,’ he warned as I dropped into a sofa near the fire.
I laughed, which didn’t help.
‘My Pop’s dead and you think it’s funny,’ he growled.
‘No, but your posturing is.’ I turned serious. ‘He didn’t leave a will.’
He opened his eyes at that. ‘But he promised…’
‘His words on the matter were, ‘if they want his money they can fight for it’.’
He eyed me coldly. ‘I’ve got a legal birth certificate, it should give me some rights to his fortune.’
I wasn’t ready to discuss that and switched tack. ‘Finn? Is that short for Godolphin?’
‘Yeah, stupid name but my mom chose it – my real mom, I mean.’
‘Is she still alive?’ I asked with a lighter tone.
‘No, she died last year.’
‘But you knew her?’
‘I did.’ He nodded, his green eyes watching me warily. ‘I grew up in Seattle, that’s where my adoptive parents took me to live. They really cared for me, good church folk who couldn’t have children of their own. When I was older, I wanted to know about my birth parents, so I asked them. They didn’t hide nothin’, they told me all about it. My real mom’s name was Kerri and she was still living in Dawson, far as they knew.’
The Tomb of the Chatelaine: A 1920s Country House Murder Mystery (Heathcliff Lennox Book 6) Page 17