A Shadowed Livery

by Charlie Garratt

  ‘Well, that’s what I’m here to find out. Where were you when the third shooting occurred, that of Miss Bamford?’

  ‘Just where I said, sir. Miss Parry had called all the servants together in the kitchen to tell them what had happened. She was shaking like a leaf and said there’d been a terrible accident. A minute after she told us Mr Jervis had phoned the police there was another shot, from upstairs.’

  ‘Who was in the kitchen at the time, Marion?’

  ‘Well, sir, apart from me and Miss Parry, there was Mrs Veasey, she’s the cook, Peggy Shaw, the other maid, and Mr Perkins, the head gardener.’

  ‘So there were five of you, is that correct?’

  Clark slowly counted the names in her head and on her fingers to confirm the number. ‘Yes, sir, that’s it.’

  ‘Mr Jervis and Nurse Collinge weren’t there with you?’

  ‘No, sir, they weren’t. Mr Jervis had been waiting for Miss Bamford to come back and someone said Nurse Collinge was too upset to come down. She was very fond of Mr Barleigh, you know.’

  ‘Had you seen Jenny Bamford arrive back at the house?’

  ‘I hadn’t, sir. As I told you, I went to my room like Miss Parry had told me and stayed there until she called for us to the kitchen. I don’t know when Miss Bamford came back, sir.’

  I spent another few minutes clarifying some of the points she’d made and I underlined a couple of items in my notebook, then told her she could go. There was still something niggling me about what she’d seen that didn’t seem right.

  Two

  Tom Barleigh’s bedroom was off a side passage which had the passenger lift on the opposite side, a little further down. I assumed the lift had been installed after Tom became confined to a wheelchair. It was a large room, occupying the upstairs rear corner of the house. I intended to return later for a more detailed examination but for now was trying to get the general layout and the key events straight. I checked what Marion Clark could have seen from her vantage point by the window and, as importantly, what she couldn’t have seen.

  The room was much as the maid had described it, particularly the general disarray of documents and photographs on the desk. I was pleased to see nothing much appeared to have been disturbed, with the exception of the bed covers. I was taking a last look from the window when I heard the lift come to a halt, closely followed by a tap at the open door. The woman stepping guardedly inside was two or three years younger than me and her pretty face was framed by long auburn hair. Her lips formed a cautious smile as I peered over my spectacles at her. I had never expected to see her again, yet here she was before me.

  ‘Is it really you, James?’

  ‘Hello, Elizabeth.’

  Elizabeth Parry was tall for a woman, almost my height. We’d met at the wedding of a mutual friend when she was keeping house for a clergyman. Six months later, I wished I’d never laid eyes on her.

  She and I hit it off straight away and soon were going out as often as we could, and the last time I saw her I’d asked her to marry me. She’d squeezed my hand and asked for time to think about it. I didn’t hear from her for a few days so called at the vicarage. I was told she’d left her job and moved away. That was three years ago, before my promotion, and I’d never heard a word from her since.

  ‘I’m working here as Sir Arthur’s housekeeper, I came here after I left Reverend Gardner.’

  Both of us knew she owed me more explanation than that.

  ‘I-I’m sorry I never wrote to you, James, but everything happened so suddenly and my world was ... turned upside down. I just needed to get away. I did intend to get in touch but by the time it was all over I didn’t know how to go about it without hurting you all over again.’

  ‘What was it that was so serious you needed to run away? Was it me?’

  ‘No, James, no. Don’t think that. It was something personal and I wasn’t sure you’d understand. I can’t tell you about it now, but I will, I promise. If...’ Suddenly she threw her arms round me, hugging me close. ‘Oh James, it really is so wonderful to see you. I’ve missed you so much.’

  Her embrace was as I remembered it and, despite all the hurt she’d caused, I found myself wanting to forgive her. But I’d almost fallen off the wagon when she left and now here she was again in my life. I pushed her gently away.

  ‘I can’t do this, Elizabeth. I’m here to investigate a murder and you’re involved. A witness.’

  Elizabeth’s face fell, and for a moment I weakened. Then she nodded and we sat down, she in an armchair and me on the edge of Tom Barleigh’s bed. She told me that when her life settled down she’d gone back to see Reverend Gardner but he’d died. An old friend of the Reverend’s knew of the opportunity coming up at Grovestock House and recommended her to Lady Isabelle.

  I found it difficult to concentrate and brought the conversation to an abrupt end, saying I would need to interview her more fully later.

  ‘Of course, James, I hadn’t planned on going out again today. If you’re free later we may be able to take a cup of tea in the kitchen, I’m usually down there at about three o’clock.’

  Despite the pain she had caused, Elizabeth Parry reminded me of better days, when the air was filled with the scent of fruit fields instead of the stench of death now cloying my nostrils. The life of a police officer leaves very little room for contact with pretty young women, unless they’re colleagues, suspects or victims. As she left, I couldn’t help thinking that taking tea with her again would be a very pleasant prospect indeed.

  The room Jenny Bamford had been using revealed nothing other than the clutter of a young woman preparing for her wedding day. She’d worked in Leamington and lived in a small flat in the town, so this guest room had few personal touches in it. Her coat was hanging on the back of a chair and her gloves lay on the dressing table. It struck me Jervis must have been convincingly calm if Jenny Bamford took the time to remove her outdoor clothes before going in to see Sir Arthur.

  I located the servants’ stairs, which were behind a door at the end of the main corridor, safely hidden from the family and any of their guests. I made my way down, pausing for a minute on the landing to take in the view from a large window overlooking the side of the house. I could see most of the side lawn, the point where Tom and his mother had died, and a substantial area beyond it across to the boundary wall of the estate and the woods on the other side. Anyone standing here at the time of the deaths would have had a good view of events and might even have seen the escape route of any third party, if one was involved. Having made a note of this, I continued down the stairs, and through the kitchen, stopping off there to make my introductions to Mrs Veasey, the cook, before going out onto the side lawn.

  Referring to my notes, and glancing frequently up at Tom Barleigh’s window, I marked the limits of the area of the lawn which could have been seen from that vantage point. I also took account of any obstacles to what Marion Clark observed, noting in particular a substantial, mature rhododendron around ten feet or so from the side of the house.

  I’d already seen, when I first arrived, that this area was screened from the front by a high brick wall, which continued all the way around two more sides, ending at the rear corner of the house. The side of the building itself completed the enclosure. From the little I knew of country houses I guessed this was once a productive vegetable garden. Now, where there would have been espaliers of apples, pears and figs, the wall was covered with a fine variety of climbing roses, still filling the air with a delightful scent even this late in the year. The only access was either from the kitchen or through the gate in the front wall. It would barely be possible to force a way through the laurel hedge connecting the gateway to the front of the house, and not without considerable damage to the hedge itself. The area was mainly laid to lawn, with one small flower bed and a few well-established shrubs. Only three windows overlooked the lawn, one being Tom Barleigh’s bedroom, another was the kitchen and the third was the one I’d looked through on the
servants’ stairs.

  On the day of the deaths, Sawyer, after taking the photographs, had produced his own plans of the places where the deaths had occurred. I could see his drawings of the boundaries corresponded very closely to my own. This suggested the location of the bodies he’d marked would be similarly accurate. Consequently, I took the photographs of Lady Isabelle and Tom Barleigh and laid them on the ground in their appropriate positions as indicated on Sawyer’s sketch.

  Firstly, I confirmed both bodies would have been visible from Tom’s bedroom window and the kitchen window. Then I put down my coat and jacket with the photographs on and tried to view them from several vantage points in the garden, including each of the corners, the kitchen door and the gateway from the front of the house. With the exception of the area behind the rhododendron, which seemed to be well trodden, it was clear the bodies wouldn’t have been hidden from the view of anyone on the side lawn itself. Now I realised what had been bothering me about Marion Clark’s account.

  I stepped out of the enclosed area and looked back through the gate from a number of angles, noting the bodies could only be seen when I was within a couple of feet of the opening. As I turned back I caught a glimpse of something shiny under the border plants. It was a small trowel. There was a letter ‘B’ carved crudely into the handle.

  I lifted the tool and made a note of exactly where I found it. Once more I was turning to go back through the gate when I spied someone in workman’s clothes coming towards me from the direction of the kitchen garden.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘I am Detective Inspector Given, and I’m here to investigate the deaths. And who might you be?’

  ‘Begging your pardon, Mr Given, I’m George Perkins and it’s just that we’ve had no end of busybodies prowling around the place, newspapermen and the like, since it all happened. I’m the head gardener here, sir, and it was my gun the mistress used to shoot Mr Barleigh.’

  I asked him to say no more until I’d finished clearing up and made my final notes. We then went inside to the morning room so I could take down a statement. He’d been in the employment of Sir Arthur and Lady Isabelle for almost twenty years, since they first came to live in the house at the end of the Great War. I asked him how he got on with them.

  ‘They were good enough employers. Lady Isabelle herself usually had a kind word and would send small presents for the children at Christmas. She’d often visit the tenants’ and workers’ families if they were unwell or on hard times. The Master was, naturally, always a bit more distant but pleasant enough when we met. I only once saw him raise his voice except when I could see it was deserved, like if the staff were lazy or something wasn’t done exactly to his liking.’

  ‘When was the “once”?’

  He sniffed, and looked at me cautiously. ‘Day before the shootings took place. I was coming through the orchard on my way back from the bottom field and saw Sir Arthur and her ladyship talking, walking away from the house. I don’t think either of them saw me because they kept on arguing fierce until he noticed I was nearby. Then he stopped sharp. He greeted me in a friendly enough manner but her Ladyship didn’t speak.’

  Perkins had then gone about his business and Sir Arthur and Lady Isabelle parted in different directions, he further into the garden and she back towards the house. I asked him to take me through what had happened on the day of the deaths.

  ‘In the morning I’d been up early enough, ’cos it was a fine day, and I went down to the woods for an hour to try to bag a pigeon or woodcock. I’m partial to a little pigeon pie and the Master is good enough to allow staff to take game so long as they don’t abuse the privilege. I’d not had much luck, only taking one small bird which ended up being cooked up for the dog, ’cos it wasn’t sufficient for my dinner. As usual, I left my gun in the corner of the potting shed when I’d finished and went to deal with a problem young Herbert, one of the under-gardeners, was having with a tree round the back.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Well, I’d heard the church bell ring as I entered the yard shortly before Herbert found me. It’s a fine clock they have Inspector, rings the quarters as well as the full hours. Would have been just about eight o’clock.’

  ‘So how long were you away from the gun?’

  ‘It were about twenty minutes. I’d heard the bell ring again for the quarter hour when I was finishing off with the lad.’

  ‘And when you got there the shotgun was gone?’

  ‘Yes, it was. First off I scrambled round the shed searching for it and asked a couple of the men if they’d seen it but as soon as it became clear it really was missing I hurried over to let Sir Arthur know. I thought we should inform the police but he seemed in extra good humour and suggested it might be a prank.’

  ‘He didn’t do anything about it, then?’

  ‘He said I should search around a bit more and have a word with the young boys working on the estate. But the gun didn’t turn up. Leastways, not until later in the day...’

  He was evidently upset and said he’d hardly slept a wink since the whole episode occurred.

  ‘Perkins, you should have locked it up perhaps, but you can’t blame yourself too much. Another gun would have been found.’

  ‘Regardless of that, Mr Given, this was mine, and I’ll never be able to forget it.’

  ‘You’ve no idea who might have taken the weapon? Any of the boys in the garden?’

  ‘Could have been anyone, s’pose, no-one would think twice if they saw someone in the yard, there’s so much coming and going at that time of the day. The only one who keeps popping into my head is Billy Sharp.’

  ‘Billy? Why him?’

  ‘He was always messing about with the shotgun when he could get his hands on it. He thought I didn’t know but you have to keep your eyes open when you’re managing a bunch of men like we have here. Most are good enough, but some’ll be sloping off for a smoke or a sleep given half a chance.’

  ‘So Billy is one you’d have to keep an eye on?’

  ‘Oh, not really, he’s a hard worker and loves to be outside in all weathers. But he did seem to have a liking for my gun. I’d see him pretending to take aim at birds and cats in the yard when he thought I wasn’t around. He always put it back where he found it though, and there was never a mark on it. I think he must have wiped it down on his scarf or something.’ Perkins paused for a few seconds as if struggling to find his words. ‘It’s hard to say this, Inspector, because I like Billy and can’t see how he’d do anyone any harm.’

  ‘Go on, Mr Perkins, I have to know the truth, no matter how difficult it might be.’

  ‘It’s just — I’d caught him playing with my shotgun before I went out shooting. As I said earlier, Billy seems to love his work and will often be up and about very early. I don’t think he can have been expecting me to be down in the yard by seven and was surprised when I came up behind and grabbed him by the shoulder. Nearly jumped out of his skin he did.’

  ‘And he had the gun with him then?’

  ‘Up to his usual trick of acting the brave hunter. I took it off him straight away and tore him off a strip. Told him he’d be for it if I caught him messing with guns again. He said he was sorry and wouldn’t touch it any more. I left him in the yard to get on with his work. I can’t believe he’d have taken it later and done these things, but I also can’t get it out of my head that he might have. Especially now he’s missing as well.’

  Following Sir Arthur’s reluctance to do anything about the missing shotgun, Perkins had gone about his business as normal, taking several of the men down to the orchard to do the final harvesting and tidying up.

  ‘We were working at this when I heard the first shot. We’ve plenty of shooting around the place but most of the men who’d normally be doing it were with me at the time.’

  ‘Did you go to investigate?’

  ‘We all dropped our tools and ran towards the house but before we’d gone a few yards we heard
a second shot. We stopped, scared for our own lives to tell the truth. I ordered the rest to stay in the vegetable garden and I carried on but a bit more cautious-like. When I reached halfway across the garden I saw three people run from the house and then to the side lawn. It was Mr Jervis, Miss Parry and Mr Haleson. They ran to the gate and suddenly stopped. I could see why when I joined them a few seconds later.’

  ‘What did you see when you finally got there?’

  ‘There were two bodies with Mr Barleigh’s wheelchair lying on its side between them. I could see it was her Ladyship and Mr Barleigh, both covered in blood. I didn’t know it straight away, but it was my shotgun lay close by Lady Isabelle.’

  ‘Was anyone else there?’

  ‘If you mean anyone who could have fired the shots other than Mister Tom or her Ladyship, then there wasn’t, only the three from the house. Mr Jervis was more flustered than ever I’ve seen him. He’s normally such a settled sort of a man, taking everything in his stride. He was out of breath. Miss Parry, for her part, seemed to go into shock and I thought she was going to faint clean away.’

  ‘Mr Haleson was a friend of Tom Barleigh’s, I understand?’

  ‘He was to be best man at his wedding.’

  ‘And Sir Arthur wasn’t with them?’

  ‘Sir Arthur? No, sir, he didn’t come out of the house at once. He only arrived when Mr Jervis went back into the house to fetch him.’

  Most of this matched with what Sawyer had included in his account of the interviews he’d carried out, though I’d gained a little more clarity on who was where at the time. Perkins, the actual owner of the shotgun, was lucky he had witnesses to where he was when the first shootings took place.

  ‘You didn’t see anyone running away when you were coming up from the vegetable garden?’

  ‘No-one at all, Inspector, and it would only be a couple of minutes from where I and the other gardeners heard the shots to me having a full view of the house.’