The Tomb of the Chatelaine: A 1920s Country House Murder Mystery (Heathcliff Lennox Book 6)
Page 23
Chapter 25
Mullins was admonished for his precipitous action, personally, I thought he should have been commended.
Lydia sobbed more loudly, Persi helped her and Lady Penelope from the room. I wandered to the windows to leave the police to surge into action. Max was cautioned and made to stay where he was, Finn came to join me as attention moved to the still bleeding body of Jerome.
‘Well, he sure had me fooled,’ Finn said as we both stared into the expanse of the gardens.
‘Did he?’ I replied.
‘Maybe not… I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t think like you do.’
I didn’t reply to that.
‘How d’you figure it out?’ Finn continued.
‘Logic, I suppose.’ I was weary, and sick of the sight of death. ‘You have to stand outside of the scene, look through other people’s eyes…’
‘Why is that logic?’
‘It’s their logic, not mine.’ I don’t think I was making much sense. ‘You were going to blackmail Sinclair, weren’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘If I had to. I wanted the company and didn’t trust him to hand it to me.’
‘A chip off the old block?’ I remarked wryly.
‘I draw the line at killing.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
‘Would Jerome’s plan have worked?’ he carried on.
I watched a skein of geese fly across the blue sky. ‘Possibly… Sinclair had got away with murder all this time.’
‘I reckon he was using the intercoms to listen in on folk.’
That was interesting, I hadn’t considered that. ‘I suppose he may have been.’
‘You believe it’s true that Jerome acted because he was scared I’d get the company?’
‘Yes,’ I said coldly. I doubt it was the answer he wanted to hear.
Swift came over. ‘Finn, they want to question you.’
I turned to see the police had set up a group of chairs near the piano, they were already loading Jerome’s body onto a stretcher. It was all very organised, you’d think they did this sort of thing all the time.
Finn went off, Swift handed me his silver flask.
‘You did well, Lennox.’
‘Did I miss anything?’ I took a long slug from the flask and gave it back.
‘Billing’s asked what happened to Randolph’s coat.’
‘Ha, he really does like it cut and dried.’ I said. ‘Tell him it’s probably at the bottom of the lake weighed down with a stone.’
‘Jerome should have done that with Sinclair, rather than make it so obviously a murder.’ He took a swig from the flask himself.
‘He’d never be able to pin it on Max if he had.’
‘Hum… He must have hated Sinclair to torture him like that.’
‘I suspect he did,’ I replied. ‘And you were right.’
‘About what?’
‘It was the money.’
He nodded, then glanced at me. ‘Why don’t you take Fogg for a walk,’ he suggested.
I looked down at my little dog who had come to sit at my feet after Persi left. I knew he’d be upset by the presence of a body.
‘Foggy.’ I said and made for the stairs.
Persi was coming down from the upper floor. ‘I’ve called the doctor.’
‘Come with me.’ I stopped and waited for her.
‘I should stay…’
I took her hand, and then pulled her to me.
‘We need some time together, and I want to talk to you.’
She nodded and we walked out into the sunshine. Our footsteps led us down to the folly, the police were still occupied indoors so we had the place to ourselves.
We sat together on a marble bench, Fogg ran to the lake to chase ducks, a pair of swans drifted by.
‘Persi,’ I began.
‘Yes?’
‘We shouldn’t waste our lives.’
‘No.’
‘Love is… it’s rare.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s been difficult for me to leave the past behind.’ I thought of all the meaning behind those words, then carried on. ‘But I can do it. I’ve realised I want to live life with all its complications and irritations. Even talking to people I don’t want to…’
She smiled.
I dug the ring out of the pocket I’d tucked it into some time ago.
‘Persi, if you don’t promise to marry me, I’m going to throw this ring in the lake.’
That made her laugh. ‘You’re such a romantic.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I remarked. ‘Do you promise?’
Her face lit up with a dazzling smile. ‘Yes, I promise.’
I slipped the ring onto her finger, took her in my arms, and kissed her.
Epilogue
It was a chaotic couple of days; we had to steel ourselves to break the news to Sir Bertram and Lady Millicent, which went predictably badly. Greggs stepped in and provided stalwart support like the old soldier he was.
The police infested the place. Everywhere we turned there was a bobby or two taking fingerprints, spreading dust over polished surfaces, aiming torches into dark corners or rifling through drawers. I’ve no idea what they were looking for.
Swift was in his element and joined forces with Billings to direct the recovery of Randolph’s body. Max was let off with an official warning, Mullins carried on as though nothing untoward had occurred.
Persi and I endured the first day; on the second we packed a picnic and took the boat to the island. We spent a heavenly afternoon under a glorious sun, basking in the waning warmth of autumn.
On the third day the police upped sticks and decamped. Shortly afterwards, a trickle of relatives started to arrive. They were round-eyed with astonishment and came offering support, baskets of goodies and asking no end of curious questions. I met Persi’s parents again. I was polite, then I escaped and ordered Greggs to pack. We were home in time for tea.
I had warned Persi this time, and she even came out to wave a farewell.
Her letter arrived a few days later.
‘Dear Heathcliff, I know, it’s Lennox, but I can’t call you Lennox for ever. The family have gathered around and are behaving quite well in general. Aunt and Uncle St George are adjusting, although Aunt Millie wavers between fantasy and reality. Lady Rosamond is to be moved, she and her maid will be buried alongside Randolph. We’re arranging a proper funeral for them, I think everyone will remain until then. It’s quite jolly actually, in the strange way of family parties and funerals.
Lydia took to her bed and we’re mollycoddling her until she feels more the thing. Penelope is sad and very quiet, but she has Mullins and he is an absolute brick; no-one has mentioned a word about him shooting Lydia’s murderous fiancé.
Max is hiding out in his workshop, he doesn’t like crowds either. Finn has been forgiven and is keeping the congregation amused. I swear he could talk himself out of the direst spot. He’s managing Sinclair’s company until it can be sold, nobody else here wants anything to do with it.
I miss you. I hope you feel you can come and visit. I will stay on at Lanscombe for a while, there’s a great deal of legal formalities to endure and no one seems inclined to do anything about it.
You’re quite the hero amongst the family now. I’ve warned them all that you’re likely to throw out accusations of murder if you’re badgered, so they’re suitably wary and have sworn not to bother you.
Give Fogg and little Tubbs a hug from me, your loving fiancée,
Persi xxx
I sighed and folded her letter carefully to place in my jacket pocket.
‘Have you seen the missive from Inspector Swift?’ Greggs enquired as he arrived with the tea tray.
My eyes moved to the mantlepiece. ‘Yes, it’s over there.’
He put the tray down with a sigh, poured tea and then fetched the envelope to present it in the proper manner.
‘Thank you, old chap.’ I gave him a grin.
Swift’s letter began in his usual direct style.
‘Lennox, arrived home in good order. I travelled to London with DCI Billings, before continuing to Braeburn. Billings was complimentary about the investigation, although felt we should have been more rigorous in method.
Florence sends her love, Angus is thriving, he has teeth coming and he’s already trying to speak. He’s incredibly advanced for his age, Florence is singing to him, she says it will help him along.
Apparently my contract with our whisky agent, Montague Morgan, is not negotiable. Florence thinks we should take a commercial approach to the situation as it stands, but we will be seeking properly legitimate outlets. It is outrageous that Morgan did not inform me that he was selling the Braeburn Malt into America.
We also discussed your idea to hold your wedding at Braeburn. Florence thinks you really should talk it through with Persi. A winter wedding in the Highlands will make it very difficult for any guests to attend. Why don’t you hold it at Melrose, or Lanscombe? They’re both much more accessible?
Wherever you decide, we will be there, and I’ll be honoured to stand by your side as best man.
Yours etc,
Swift.’
I folded the letter and put that into my jacket pocket too. Cook had made Madeira cake and a couple of slices had been delivered with the tea. I took a bite from the largest.
Sir.’ Tommy bounced in. ‘Aunty says I have to wear velvet britches when I’m a page boy. Everyone’s goin’ to laugh, sir. I don’t have to, do I? You wouldn’t want to wear velvet britches…’
‘Tommy, neither of us are going to wear velvet anything.’ I interrupted the flow. ‘Now sit down and have some cake.’
He grinned. ‘Aye, sir. Auntie says, if you have the wedding here, all the village will want to come and we’ll need a good clean up. And the garden needs cutting back and the gates ain’t mended yet an…’
I ate my cake and gazed out of the window as he prattled on. Weddings, it seemed, were far more complicated than unravelling murder.
Author’s Notes
Please don’t read or listen to this until you’ve finished the book.
The technological era was burgeoning in the 1920s. Inventions and discoveries in the 1800s led to many devices we are familiar with today. The telegraph and telephone had transformed communication, the steam engine, motor car and aeroplane were spreading technology at an inexorable rate. The old world was melting away under the wheels of invention and industry.
The metal detector, or induction balance, had been devised as early as 1830 by mining engineer R W Fox. Innovations were added with the intention of improving accuracy; some to detect precious metals, others for medicinal purposes, such as locating bullets embedded in flesh. One famous example is Alexander Graham Bell’s attempt to save the life of American President, James Garfield.
President Garfield suffered an assassination attempt in 1881. He was shot and injured, one bullet was removed, the other lodged among vital organs including the pancreas. Despite probing by doctors, the bullet could not be located and the President’s life was in grave danger.
Simon Newcomb of Baltimore had been working on an improved form of metal detector and offered it to the President’s doctors. But Newcomb’s device had a deficiency, the hum emitted by the device when metal was located was too faint to be heard by the human ear. Alexander Graham Bell stepped in; he offered his expertise to amplify the signal by attaching it to the invention which had made him famous – the telephone.
Experiments followed, Newcomb’s detector was proved to work when paired with Graham Bell’s receiver. Full of high hopes they were shown into the President’s sick room, but after numerous attempts, the experiment was declared a failure. Graham Bell’s telephonic receiver gave off a constant hum whenever the detector was placed near the President.
The inventors were devastated, and a short while later, President Garfield died.
It was only some time afterwards that the explanation for the failure of Newcomb’s and Graham Bell’s combined device was discovered. The President had been presented with one of the very latest inventions in mattress technology. His new bed had been manufactured with coil springs made of metal and it was this that had set off the metal detector.
King John has been the only John in Britain’s list of sovereigns. By all accounts he was as bad as he was painted, it doesn’t take overmuch research to uncover records of his wanton acts of terror and cruelty. The Barons eventually revolted and Magna Carta was drawn up. It brought democracy of sorts to England, although its laws were intended to protect the rich and powerful rather than the commoners.
John signed Magna Carta in 1215 but refused to follow its precepts. The Barons invited the French prince, Louis, to take over the throne in John’s stead and civil war broke out as a consequence. John’s death in 1216, brought the war to an end and Louis’ presence was no longer welcome. He returned to France. The account of Lady Rosamond’s murder and the destruction of the castle are entirely fictitious on my part.
Prohibition was enacted in America in 1920 and remained in place until 1933. Bootleggers, rum runners and gangsters made fortunes from illegal sales. But not all sales of alcohol was illegal, loopholes existed. Liquor could be legitimately supplied in two cases, for sacramental or for medicinal purposes.
To obtain alcohol for medicinal purposes, one needed a doctor’s prescription. The patient was not actually required to be examined by a doctor, a telephone call was deemed sufficient. Whisky, brandy, gin et al, were considered appropriate remedies for flu, diabetes, insufficient lactation, anxiety and depression among others.
In 1932 Winston Churchill was involved in a minor car accident in New York City, as a consequence he was given a prescription by local doctor, Otto Pickhardt. It read ‘This is to certify that the post-accident convalescence of Winston Churchill necessitates the use of alcoholic spirits especially at meal times. The quantity is naturally indefinite but the minimum requirements would be 250 cubic centimeters.’ Which is 250 millilitres – a bottle of Scotch is 750 millilitres.
I haven’t discovered which pharmacy fulfilled Churchill’s prescription but he could have gone to one of Charles R. Walgreen’s stores, where whisky was kept under the counter for just such measures. Walgreen was already a successful businessman; when prohibition began he had 20 stores, by the end he had over 600.
Prohibition did not prevent Americans from drinking alcohol. As Oxford University Press notes, more hard liquor was consumed during Prohibition than before, with spirits accounting for 75 percent of all alcohol consumed.
Liquor, or more accurately, Braeburn Malt, will play a central role in book 7 of the Heathcliff Lennox series; The Mystery of Montague Morgan.
I do hope you enjoyed this book. Would you like to take a look at the Heathcliff Lennox website? As a member of the Readers Club, you’ll receive the FREE short story, Heathcliff Lennox - France 1918 and access to the ‘World of Lennox’ page, where you can view portraits of Lennox, Swift, Greggs, Foggy, Tubbs, Persi and Tommy Jenkins.
There are also ‘inspirations’ for the books, plus occasional newsletters with updates and free giveaways.
You can find the Heathcliff Lennox Readers Club, and more, here at...
https://karenmenuhin.com/
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Here’s the full Heathcliff Lennox series list with links to each book on Amazon...
Book 1.
Murder at Melrose Court
Book 2.
The Black Cat Murders
Book 3.
The Curse of Braeburn Castle
Book 4.
Death in Damascus
Book 5.
The Monks Hood Murders
Book 6
The Tomb of the Chatelaine
More books are pl
anned!
All the series can be found by clicking here.
And there are Audible versions read by Sam Dewhurst-Phillips, who is amazing, it’s just like listening to a radio play. All of these can be found on Amazon, Audible and Apple Books. To find them on Amazon, just click on one of the book links above and opt for Audio. Or click here.
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karenmenuhinauthor@gmail.com
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Karen Baugh Menuhin
A little about Karen Baugh Menuhin
1920s, Cozy crime, Traditional Detectives, Downton Abbey – I love them!
Along with my family, my dog and my cat.
At 60 I decided to write, I don’t know why but suddenly the stories came pouring out, along with the characters. Eccentric Uncles, stalwart butlers, idiosyncratic servants, machinating Countesses, and the hapless Major Heathcliff Lennox.
A whole world built itself upon the page and I just followed along...
An itinerate traveller all my life. I grew up in the military, often on RAF bases but preferring to be in the countryside when we could. I adore whodunnits.
I have two amazing sons – Jonathan and Sam Baugh and their wives, Laura and Wendy, and five grandchildren, Charlie, Joshua, Isabella-Rose, Scarlett and Hugo.
I am married to Krov, my wonderful husband, who is a retired film maker and eldest son of the violinist, Yehudi Menuhin. We live in the Cotswolds.
For more information my address is: karenmenuhinauthor@gmail.com