Murder at the Masquerade Ball

by Margaret Addison

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate your saying that, my lord,’ Raymond said quietly. ‘Your faith in my character has not been misplaced,’ he added, his cheeks flushed as he helped himself to a large mouthful of claret.

  ‘Good. We’ll say no more about it. And I suggest we don’t talk about this murder business, for wont of a better expression, until we’ve finished our luncheon,’ said Cedric, dabbing his mouth with the edge of a napkin. ‘This food is too good to allow it to be spoilt by such unsavoury talk.’

  The meal progressed genially enough as their conversation strayed on to the subject of antiquities and antiquarian books. It was not until they had retired to the library to take their coffee and were ensconced in two ancient leather club chairs that their colloquy returned to the matter in hand, and only then when Cedric had established that the room contained no other occupant but themselves.

  Cedric’s original plan had been to gently lead up to the subject of the murder, to pose his questions in a roundabout way so that it was not too obvious that his intention was to seek information. On reflection, however, he resolved that a more direct approach would likely be more productive, particularly as the subject had already been alluded to during the meal and, in particular, his wife’s sleuthing activities.

  ‘Look here, Franklin, I came here to satisfy myself that you hadn’t gone to pieces. It seemed the least I could do given this dreadful business occurred on my premises. And after what followed, with the police and all, I wished to satisfy myself that you were not complicit in any way in what happened. I also wanted to gather some facts.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Raymond, suddenly looking rather anxious.

  ‘As I have already told you, Lady Belvedere is something of a detective, and a jolly fine one in my opinion. One might say she has had considerable experience in the area of murder and, in particular, the solving of the most baffling of cases. Naturally she is not in a position to call upon you herself, what with you being holed up here, because I take it they don’t allow women guests? I thought so. I daresay I’m rambling a bit and all that, but to come to the point, my wife has sent me to act … well, I suppose one might call it as her emissary. That’s to say, to ask you some questions on her behalf. Questions that she would have put to you herself in the normal course to enable her to further her investigation into this terrible business.’

  Cedric sat back in his chair feeling that he had made rather a mess of putting across the purpose of his visit. This feeling was not lessened in any way by the fact that Raymond Franklin had gone very pale.

  ‘You wish to ask me some questions?’

  ‘Yes. It shouldn’t prove too onerous,’ Cedric said breezily, attempting to claw back some of the genial atmosphere of earlier. ‘Just one or two questions to establish a few facts. The chief inspector will no doubt be arriving in a few minutes himself to ask you the same sort of things. You might wish to regard this as a rehearsal.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Once he has finished speaking to your wife, that is.’

  ‘Iris,’ muttered Raymond, almost as if he had forgotten her existence. He grabbed at Cedric’s sleeve, causing the young man to spill some coffee in his saucer. ‘I must speak with her. I must tell her what happened.’

  ‘Well, old chap, I don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ replied his companion, hastily putting his cup and saucer down on a convenient table. ‘For one thing I imagine the chief inspector would take a pretty dim view of you parleying together until he’d had a word with Mrs Franklin himself, and for another, your wife has accused you of trying to murder her,’ he added rather bluntly, ‘so I doubt very much she’ll want to see you.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Raymond, jumping to his feet.

  ‘Good lord,’ said Cedric aghast, ‘Are you saying you don’t know?’ He paused a moment to reflect. ‘I suppose there is no reason to imagine that you would. After all, you were in the servants’ quarters when Mrs Franklin came running towards the terrace and made her accusation against you to Lady Belvedere. Your wife was in rather a dreadful state, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, you needn’t look at me like that,’ Cedric said hastily, noting the look of alarm that had appeared on Raymond Franklin’s face. ‘She hasn’t been hurt. She was suffering from fright, that is all. The doctor was sent for to give her something to help her to sleep. She’s being looked after at Kingsley House. Her lady’s maid is attending to her now.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Raymond rather bitterly, ‘that is why you suggested that I should stay at my club rather than go home to Sycamore House? You thought I might do her harm when she returned.’

  ‘Nothing of the sort. Look here, Franklin, I daresay it’s a bit of a shock to be told that your wife thinks you tried to kill her, but you must keep your head. And as it happens,’ he added, wondering whether he was about to speak out of turn, ‘it appears her assumption was based solely on the fact that she saw us all crowded around Miss Casters’ body and you being apprehended by the collar by Mr Atherton.’

  ‘Damn the fellow!’ said Raymond rather testily, and then gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry, my lord. I know, of course, that he is a particular friend of yours.’ He gazed fixedly at a spot on the carpet, as if he were trying to collect his thoughts before speaking further, afraid of making another outburst. ‘What you are saying, if I understand you correctly, my lord,’ he continued in a more reasonable tone of voice, choosing his words with care, and walking over to the fireplace, ‘is that my wife is not claiming to having seen me kill Miss Casters?’

  ‘No,’ agreed Cedric, eyeing him curiously, feeling tolerably certain that he had in fact overstepped the mark by revealing a key piece of information. Partly to make amends for his recklessness, and also because it was a question to which he knew Rose dearly wished to know the answer, he said quickly:

  ‘But the thing is, old chap, why would Mrs Franklin leap to such a conclusion on so little evidence? That’s the bit that will be worrying the police. I mean to say, if I discovered my wife bent over a dead body, I should not assume that she had done the killing.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Raymond, a little despondently. ‘It seems to me quite ludicrous that she would suppose I was capable of doing such a thing.’

  ‘Or had it in mind to do such a thing,’ Cedric said sharply.

  He got up from his own chair and crossed the room, stopping at a table on which there was lying a pile of newspapers. He took a moment or two to peruse them and, selecting one of the more lurid examples of what passed as journalism, returned to his chair.

  ‘I’m not one generally to pry into another man’s private affairs, but I must ask you if there is any truth to any of this bunkum?’

  He threw the newspaper down on to the table, in front of their armchairs, opened it at the relevant page and pointed with his finger to a particular article that had caught his attention. Raymond abandoned his post at the fireplace and came forward. He gazed only fleetingly at the paragraph being indicated to him, before looking away with a look of disdain on his face. The article in question was a very loosely veiled piece alluding to the supposed affair between a man, who had recently married into wealth, and his exceptionally pretty secretary.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you that the article refers to yourself and Miss Casters,’ continued Cedric, when it became evident that Raymond did not intend to give a reply. ‘Only the most dim-witted of fellows would think otherwise. As I have said, I am not a man to pry into another man’s private affairs, nor am I here to pass judgement on your moral character. But you surely must realise,’ he continued somewhat exasperated, ‘how important it is that we are in possession of all the facts if we are to prove your innocence in this matter?’

  Still Raymond Franklin maintained a mulish silence. Cedric added rather desperately, and not altogether truthfully:

  ‘If you give us all the facts, you will have nothing to fear.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Raymond, sounding far from convinced.

  He s
trolled back to the fireplace, his hands thrust in his pockets. To Cedric’s mind, his companion seemed to be busy contemplating his various options and wondering how much was in his best interests to disclose. The earl, meanwhile, held his breath, all the while a sinking feeling developing in the pit of his stomach as a result of the man’s stubbornness.

  ‘There is no truth to any of it,’ Raymond said finally. ‘It’s all lies, as poor Miss Casters would tell you herself if she were here.’

  Cedric was uncomfortably aware that the young man had averted his eyes while making this declaration, blatantly refusing to meet the other’s gaze. He did not feel any more relieved by noting that Raymond’s face was tinged with an unbecoming shade of crimson.

  ‘Hell’s bells!’ said Cedric to himself. ‘The chap’s a very poor liar. They’ll make mincemeat of him in the witness box.’ Aloud he said:

  ‘It would be much better if you told me the truth.’

  ‘That is the truth, my lord.’

  ‘Very well,’ Cedric said, deciding it would do no good to press the point any further while the man was in his present mood. Instead, he decided to take the bull by the horns and put his next question very brusquely.

  ‘In which case,’ he said, ‘I should be grateful if you would tell me the nature of your relations with your wife. It’s rather intrusive of me, I know, but the chief inspector will ask you questions on the same sort of lines, so it would do for you to be prepared. Are you and Mrs Franklin by way of being on good terms?’

  Raymond frowned and took a few moments to respond, as if he were composing his reply to such an impertinent question.

  It occurred to Cedric that if his companion were to tell him to go to the devil, he would hardly blame him.

  When Raymond spoke, however, it was evident that he had decided to answer the question quite frankly.

  ‘If, as you ask, I am to be honest, I suppose one might say my wife and I have very little to do with one another.’

  ‘Good heavens, man!’ exclaimed Cedric, ‘You’ve only been married five minutes!’

  ‘A little more than that,’ replied Raymond somewhat sheepishly. ‘Still, if it’s warts and all that you are after, I might as well tell you that it was never a very passionate affair, even at the beginning. I would almost go so far as to say it was a marriage of convenience on both sides.’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t say that in the witness box, if I were you. Juries don’t like that sort of thing. It makes a man appear callous, particularly if the other party happens to be wealthy.’

  ‘Iris was rather tired of being pursued by suitors,’ said Raymond, a touch wearily, ‘and I wanted an opportunity to examine and catalogue the Smithingham Collection.’

  ‘I see,’ said Cedric tersely.

  ‘It is really not nearly as bad as it sounds,’ said Raymond, this time with a semblance of feeling. He sank down into his chair. ‘We were fond of each other in our own way, or at least I thought we were. I imagined we’d rub along all right, really I did, or I’d never have married Iris. Whatever you may think of me, my lord, I am not a cad, nor a gold digger, come to that.’

  ‘But you still had your eye on the Smithingham Collection?’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that, I suppose I did. But I thought I’d make her as good a husband as the next man and she seemed fairly interested in the Smithingham Collection herself when we were courting. We used to talk about it a great deal, or perhaps, on reflection,’ Raymond said with something of a rueful smile, ‘it was I who talked and she merely listened. But what I should like to impress on you, my lord, is that my intentions were honourable.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Well, as I say, I didn’t realise Iris found being custodian of the collection so onerous. I think she has rather come to view it as a millstone around her neck.’

  ‘While you could hardly believe your luck?’

  ‘Something like that. I have always been fascinated by artefacts, as you know, having made the study of such things my profession. The Smithingham Collection is quite fascinating in its field. I’m afraid it has rather occupied my mind to the exclusion of all else.’

  ‘Even your wife?’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Raymond, a little sheepishly. ‘I daresay I’ve rather neglected her, not that I don’t mean to make amends if I get the chance, because I do. That’s why I should like to see her now.’

  ‘Good,’ said Cedric.

  He was considerably impressed by the man’s candour, while also feeling that it was a very sorry state of affairs for anyone to find themselves in, particularly so early on in a marriage. It also, Cedric realised, provided Raymond Franklin with a jolly good motive for wishing his wife dead. At which point Cedric admonished himself. He must keep in mind that it had not been Iris Franklin who had been killed. Rather it had been Hilary Casters who had been murdered. Not that it changed matters much. For, given his companion’s rather furtive manner when the matter of a romantic liaison between the two had been raised, it appeared that Raymond Franklin might well have had a pretty good motive for having wished that woman dead also. In which case, it could be argued he was not much further forward. He sighed. Perhaps the chief inspector had not been so wide of the mark after all with regard to his various hypotheses surrounding Raymond Franklin’s possible motives.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘You are quite certain that Mr Franklin did not realise the woman in the costume was Miss Casters?’ asked Rose of her husband, on his return to Kingsley House.

  They were in the small drawing room, which the police had at last permitted be cleared of the debris from the ball.

  ‘Yes, though I know, on the face of it, it seems highly unlikely,’ said Cedric. ‘But you see, Hilary Casters and his wife were of a similar build, if not appearance. One must also remember that she was wearing a mask that covered most of her face, to say nothing of a thick layer of make-up and a wig that concealed her hair. In fact, there were very few identifying features that were visible, so the poor man really had no way of telling it wasn’t his wife. And, of course, he had no reason at the time to suppose it might not be.’

  ‘But Iris told her husband she did not wish to attend the ball.’

  ‘That may be so, but I’d say it is a bit of a leap from that to sending an imposter to attend in one’s place.’ Cedric passed a hand through his hair, while he thought the matter over. ‘And anyway,’ he said, ‘it’s not the sort of thing a man would think of, certainly not a fellow like Franklin. The poor chap was just jolly relieved that the woman he took to be his wife appeared in costume at the top of the stairs. He had half been expecting her to feign a headache and refuse to accompany him to the ball.’

  ‘Of course,’ muttered Rose meditatively, ‘I suppose it helped that the lady’s maid agreed to play a part in the deception.’

  ‘Indeed. Franklin said she made quite a to-do about straightening the woman’s gown, though, when he thought about it afterwards, he remembered that she had given him rather an odd look.’

  ‘I suppose she was wondering whether he was harbouring any suspicions. Miss Casters herself must have been on tenterhooks. I mean to say, the odds were against them managing to pull it off.’

  ‘Though some of the odds were in their favour,’ said her husband. ‘Relations between husband and wife being what they were, Franklin was not the least bit surprised when the woman chose not to speak to him. Apparently she didn’t utter a word to him all evening. Would you believe she didn’t glance at him once during the drive to the ball? She kept her head turned away and stared out of the window the whole time. Of course, the poor fellow merely thought that Mrs Franklin was sulking.’

  ‘Whereas in reality Miss Casters was doing her level best not to provide Mr Franklin with any opportunity to pick up on the deception,’ remarked Rose wistfully.

  ‘Of course, it shows their marriage was in a very poor state, his and Mrs Franklin’s, I mean, not his and the woman in the blue dress, because of course that was his secr
etary, even if he thought at the time it was his wife.’ Cedric grinned in spite of himself. ‘I say, it’s jolly confusing, all this business of the woman in the blue dress. I have to keep reminding myself that we are referring to poor Miss Casters and not Iris Franklin.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Still, I am tolerably certain Franklin is holding something back, though whether it’s to do with his affair with his secretary I really wouldn’t like to say. Good heavens!’ exclaimed Cedric, breaking off discussing the matter in hand to comment on a disturbance that appeared to be erupting in the hall below. ‘I wonder what’s causing all that racket?’

  ‘It sounds to me,’ said his wife, a trifle apprehensively, ‘as if the chief inspector and the commander have just returned from their interview with Mr Franklin. I suppose they were aware that I had spoken with Iris Franklin. They may have put that down simply to my being a concerned hostess. But I doubt very much, darling, that they will take a similarly lenient view of your visiting their main suspect at his club before they’d had a chance to speak with him.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Cedric, drawing himself up to his full height and taking up position in front of the fireplace. ‘They’ll take a pretty dim view of that all right. I suppose we had better brace ourselves because, from the sound of their footsteps and the way they are speaking to poor old Manning, they are definitely heading this way and are on the warpath.’

  Their fears appeared to be realised when the men in question strode purposefully into the room without waiting for the butler to announce them. If any further doubt lingered as to their mood, it was dashed irrevocably by the appearance of the two men. Chief Inspector Innes entered the room with a face flushed almost as red as his hair, his cheeks bristling. Commander Wrenfield, from the scowl on his face, looked equally put out. Of the two men, it was the policeman who was the first to voice his objections regarding the Belvederes’ activities.

  ‘Lord Belvedere, Lady Belvedere, I really must protest,’ he began. ‘You are in danger of obstructing a police investigation.’