by Carola Dunn
She wrinkled her nose at him but obediently sat, and Tom, his notebook at the ready, took a seat out of Angela’s line of vision.
“I regret having to trouble you at such a sorrowful time.” Alec noted that she looked less sorrowful than uneasy. “Describe for me, please, everything that occurred between midnight and seven o’clock this morning.”
Startlingly, Angela blushed. She didn’t look at all the sort of young woman to have been entertaining a swain in her bedroom, but after all, one never could tell. “Midnight? I didn’t go downstairs till just before one.”
“Midnight.”
“I … Well, I had to do something to stay awake, to let my brother in, you know, so I started writing an article for the RSPCA magazine. I’ve never tried it before. I’m not much of a hand at writing, actually, but I thought maybe … maybe Daisy wouldn’t mind looking at it and giving me a hint.” She sent Daisy a pleading glance.
Daisy opened her mouth. Alec scowled. Daisy shut her mouth but smiled and nodded.
Angela heaved a sigh of relief. That hurdle overcome, she went on, “At ten to one, I went downstairs. Oh, I ought to say I went by the back stairs, the servants’ stairs. I wouldn’t have seen anyone even if they’d been about.”
“Did … Tiddler go with you?”
“Of course,” she said, surprised. “I can’t leave him; he howls.”
Tom’s moustache twitched and Daisy grinned. There and then Alec more or less gave up on Angela Devenish as a suspect. “Go on.”
“I went to the Long Gallery and opened one of the French doors—”
“Locked?”
“Yes, and bolted top and bottom, but the keys are kept in the drawer of a table. The gold and marble one, you know, Daisy? We went out on the terrace. And hung about and hung about for simply ages.”
“Did you move out of sight of the door?”
“No. That is, I took Tiddler down the steps to the lawn, so I suppose I had my back turned for a moment, but once I reached the bottom I turned round to watch for Teddy. I didn’t want him to go in and lock me out. It was a clear night and I could see quite well, though there was only a sliver of moon. Then Teddy turned up at last—the tower clock had chimed the half hour—and we went in and locked and bolted the door … .”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Oh yes. Uncle Nicholas—he’s my great-uncle, actually—is very particular about that. There was a tremendous row once when Rupert came in late and didn’t lock up. I suppose there’s some valuable stuff in the house,” she said vaguely.
Assuming Crummle’s men could be trusted to spot any sign of a break-in—and he seemed quite competent at that sort of thing—Angela’s evidence meant that Lady Eva had almost certainly been murdered by one of the family.
She didn’t seem to realize the significance of her words. Her uneasiness had faded and she continued without prompting: “We went up to my room and he pinched my counterpane and a pillow. I went to sleep and didn’t wake up till a maid brought tea and told me about … about Grandmama.”
“You were on good terms with your grandmother?”
“Yes, well, sort of. She didn’t like what I do but she liked that I do it. I mean, she approved of me not being a drip, sitting at home knitting, like poor Aunt Ione.”
Daisy gasped. Alec gave her a quick glare and turned back to Angela. Her brow creased in a puzzled frown, she hadn’t noticed the interruption.
“That’s why she left me some money, and Lucy, too, though of course photography is much more respectable than rescuing badly treated animals. I can’t think why.”
“Very odd. Let’s just go back to when you at last got to bed. Your brother curled up on the floor with your counterpane around him?”
“Well, after his bath.”
“He took a bath? How long did that take him?”
“I haven’t the faintest. I fell asleep right away.”
“Tiddler didn’t bark when he came in?”
“Oh no, he’s much too frightened. He never barks.” She reached down and gently pulled one ragged ear. “He was quite badly hurt. I found him—”
“In the morning, Miss Devenish, when you woke, your brother was asleep on the floor in your bedroom?”
“On the other side of the bed from the door, so that the maid wouldn’t see him when she brought the tea. He didn’t want Mummy and Daddy to know he’d arrived in the middle of the night, you see. When he rang up, he told me not to tell them he was coming or have a room prepared for him. He was just going to turn up after breakfast and pretend he’d left London early.”
“He came from London?”
“No, from a house-party, in Hampshire, I think. That’s why he was so late. He couldn’t leave there till after dinner.”
“I see. By the way, why on earth did he leave a house-party at that time of night?”
“It was boring,” Angela said simply.
Alec decided he didn’t understand the younger generation. Or else he didn’t understand the upper classes. One way or another, he felt very middle-aged and middle-class. He glanced at Daisy.
She shrugged and raised her eyes to heaven.
He understood her very well, most of the time, and she was an aristocrat ten years his junior. Cheered, he waited a moment to see if silence would prompt further unsolicited confidences from Angela, but she appeared to have run out of steam.
This was a preliminary interview, he reminded himself, and he had a couple of dozen more people to see. Rising, he said, “Thank you very much, Miss Devenish. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Is that all? I knew you couldn’t be like Mummy said you would or Daisy wouldn’t have married you.”
Alec felt his face reddening. He couldn’t remember being put to the blush by a suspect since his early days as a detective constable. Tom’s grin was too wide to be hidden by his moustache and Alec didn’t dare look at Daisy. He shook the hand Angela held out to him.
“I’ll have some more questions for you later,” he warned her.
“Right-oh. Coming, Daisy?”
“In a bit. I want a word with Alec. I’ll see you later.”
“Right-oh.”
Tom escorted Angela out.
“Darling, it’s too frightful, I quite forgot to mention about Lady Ione.”
“Tom found out from the servants. You couldn’t have warned me in time to intercept her at the station, could you?”
“No,” Daisy said thankfully, “you arrived long after.”
“Never mind, then. Quickly, anything else I need to know about Edward Devenish?”
“He’s definitely a bit of a blister. But he must be aware of his sister’s devastating frankness.”
“Devastating is the word!”
“I advised her—I advised all of them—to tell the whole truth right away. She’s probably the only one to take my words so enthusiastically to heart. Because she’s inclined that way anyway, so Teddy must know he couldn’t count on her keeping the time of his arrival secret. So it’d be stupid to then go and murder Lady Eva.”
“Perhaps he is stupid. He’ll be here in a moment, if they’ve found him. I suppose you’d better stay so that you can tell me about each person before they come in.”
“Darling, may I really?” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the nose.
“Daisy! Sit over there, will you? Not exactly hidden; where people are not likely to notice you.”
She obediently retreated to the shadows as Tom ushered in a youth in dark grey flannels and a navy blazer.
“Mr. Devenish, sir.”
As Teddy Devenish crossed the room towards him, Alec was struck by the resemblance of his expression to Crummle’s: disgruntled and belligerent. A closer view, however, revealed not Crummle’s gloom but a spark of apprehension behind the façade. Teddy was batting on a sticky wicket and he knew it.
“How do you do, Mr. Devenish. I’m sorry to have to trouble you on such a—”
“I’m not saying anything.” Teddy lea
nt with both hands on the desk and glowered. “Not without a solicitor.”
“That is your privilege, sir. No doubt your father has summoned his solicitor?”
“Er, well, no, actually.”
“Perhaps he is unaware of precisely at what o’clock this morning you arrived?”
“I’m of age. I don’t have to tell him everything I do.”
“Of course not,” Alec said soothingly as if to a fractious child. “Family solicitors tend to be rather stuffy. I dare say you’d rather have your own.” He noted with satisfaction that he’d flummoxed the boy. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Devenish?”
Teddy subsided on to the chair with a groan. “I suppose my sister told you everything.”
“Everything she knows. There are gaps to be filled. Let’s start at the beginning. Where were you staying before you came to Haverhill?”
“Why the devil do you need to know that?”
“Routine. Ah, I see my sergeant frowning at me. We’d better start with your full name and address, if you please, just as a matter of routine.”
“Edward Granville Devenish.” He gave the address of his flat in town, on the wrong side of Oxford Street, but not by much. “The family place is Saxonfield, in Leicestershire.”
“Thank you. And your friends in Hampshire?”
As Alec anticipated, Teddy found it much less perturbing to give his friends’ address once he had given his own. “The name’s Hetheridge. Danesbury House, near Nether Wallop. The chap who invited me is Bill Hetheridge.”
“Thank you. What was your reason for leaving Danesbury House late in the evening for a long drive?”
“I can’t see that it’s any business of yours!”
“Mr. Devenish, you went to a good deal of trouble to arrive in the middle of the night, unexpectedly, and to conceal the time of your arrival. At roughly the time of your arrival, your grandmother was brutally murdered. You are one of her heirs. Let me assure you, it is my business to find out why you left Danesbury House and came to Haverhill in such curious circumstances.”
White-faced, Teddy cried, “I’m not telling you! I won’t have you twisting my words!” He stumbled to his feet. “Leave me alone. Leave me alone, damn you!”
Blundering towards the door, he narrowly missed a couple of chairs. Alec let him reach for the handle before saying in a voice like the crack of a whip, “You are not to leave Haverhill, Mr. Devenish.”
Without speaking, Teddy went out into the hall, leaving the door ajar.
“You think he’s our man, Chief?”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, Tom, but young Teddy is definitely in hot water.”
“Waist-deep,” said Daisy soberly.
“I’ll ring up these Hetheridges and see what explanation he gave them for leaving. But later, I think. Let him stew for a while. I’ll see Lucy next, Tom.”
“Right, Chief.” Tom went out.
“Darling, you’re not going to make me sit in this corner while you give Lucy the third degree?”
“No, you can come over here, if you promise not to interrupt.”
“Cross my heart.”
He moved a chair close to the desk for her, at the opposite end from the suspects’ chair. “I won’t ask you about Lucy. Tell me about Sir James and Lady Devenish.”
“I don’t know much. He rather goes in for killing things—huntin’, shootin’, fishin’—to Angela’s distress, but I can’t honestly see him doing in his mother. More likely his wife. Lady Devenish is a shrew, and I’d say she wears the breeches.”
“The London house reverts to the estate. He might see it as a refuge, or as somewhere his wife might be persuaded to stay frequently, now that his mother’s not there.”
“Occam’s razor,” said Daisy.
“Great Scott, Daisy, I didn’t know you’d ever heard of Occam.”
“I know my education was deficient and I didn’t understand all the philosophical stuff about nominalism, but I read about his razor the other day and it makes sense. Why should Sir James get rid of his mother in order to escape his wife, rather than simply doing in his wife?”
“Wider field of suspects. Hush, here’s Lucy.”
“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector.”
Alec’s relationship with his wife’s dearest friend had been mixed, to say the least. To start with, she had strongly disapproved of Daisy consorting with a policeman. Later, involved on the periphery of a murder case, she had been furious at his taking her fingerprints and chiding her for careless storage of dangerous photographic chemicals. His support of Daisy’s writing career had met with her grudging approval, and he had learnt not to let her sardonic remarks irk him. At best she was mildly antagonistic, but they had been on christian-name terms for ages.
He matched her coolness. “Good afternoon, Miss Fotheringay. I’m sorry to have to trouble you at such a sorrowful—”
She cut him off with a gesture and her own brand of devastating frankness: “I’m not exactly shattered, I’m afraid. Aunt Eva wasn’t a bad old bird, as great-aunts go, but then, great-aunts do go, don’t they? At least, most of mine have popped off by now. You mustn’t think, because she left me some money, that we were close. And I avoid the rest of her family like the plague.”
“Ah yes, the money. I understand you profit considerably from your great-aunt’s death.”
“Are you about to arrest me?”
Alec leant back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture he was wont to employ when exasperated. “No, I’m not about to arrest you, Lucy. But you must realize I can’t overlook the fact.”
“The money would have come in very handy anytime in the past five or six years, but now I’m getting married, I shan’t actually need it. Not that I shan’t be glad to have it and I’m grateful to Aunt Eva for leaving it to me, of course.”
From the corner of his eye, Alec caught a glimpse of a perplexed expression on Daisy’s face. Whatever was troubling her, he didn’t expect her to tell him. She was quite convinced of Lucy’s innocence, naturally. He himself couldn’t quite see her as a murderer.
He regarded Lucy thoughtfully. “We may have to go into Lord Gerald’s finances.”
“My dear Chief Ins—Oh, what the hell, Alec!—I’m sure you’ll solve the case long before you have to resort to such expedients. That’s why I persuaded Grandfather to try to get you down here. I wouldn’t have if I’d done her in. I didn’t, you know. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a rendezvous with my intended.” Standing, she turned to Daisy. “Coming, darling?”
“Is it tea-time already? Yes, coming. Alec, darling, I’ve told you all I know about your next two victims. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll make sure Baines sends in tea for you and Tom.”
“Very welcome it’ll be, too, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Tom, studiously avoiding Alec’s eye.
With brisk steps, the two young women departed.
The library door closed behind them. “So you’ve decided to marry him after all?” Daisy enquired as they crossed the hall, already emptied of trestle tables.
“I’m not sure. I simply can’t make up my mind. I’ve a feeling I’ll know as soon as I see him. You’ll extract Uncle Aubrey from the conservatory, won’t you, if he’s still there?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Tea’s in the drawing room today—Grandmother’s got some frightfully Victorian notion that tea on the terrace is inappropriate in a house of mourning.”
“I haven’t actually noticed much in the way of mourning.”
“No. Sad, isn’t it? Poor old Aunt Eva didn’t have the knack of making herself loved.” Lucy grimaced. “I don’t suppose I do, either.”
“Except by Binkie.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m not sure. If he’s mad about me, there must be something wrong with the poor fish.”
“Oh, Lucy, you’re much too hard to please!”
They entered the dining room and, skirting the table, made for the glass doors on the far side
which opened into the conservatory. From beyond them, Daisy heard what sounded like a muffled shout, rhythmically repeated. As Lucy pushed the heavy door open, the sound resolved into a yell: “Help!”
“That’s Binkie!” Lucy hurried forward between the palms and heavy-scented datura, Daisy at her heels.
“Help!”
Binkie was kneeling on the slate floor, his back to them, leaning forward, half concealed by luxuriant foliage and pink and white blooms. He straightened.
“Help!”
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Lucy, go and send for a doctor. Quickly!” Swinging forward again, he pressed down.
“Uncle Aubrey!”
Between Binkie’s legs, Lord Fotheringay lay prone, arms outstretched, head turned aside. “One … two … three.” Binkie straightened. “Go! One … two.” He leant forward, compressing his lordship’s lower ribs beneath his powerful hands. “One … two … three.”
“Go on, Lucy,” Daisy urged. “I’ll help here if I can. We all had to learn artificial respiration at the hospital.”
“But what’s wrong with Uncle Aubrey?”
Daisy turned her around and gave her a push. “Run. A heart attack, I imagine. Shall I take a turn, Binkie?”
“That’s all right … two … three … I can go on forever. One … two … But I’m awfully afraid it’s too late.”
10
“I’m afraid it’s my job to be suspicious, Lord Haverhill. Your son’s death may well be perfectly natural, a heart attack induced by the strain of your sister’s murder. But if I were to take it for granted, I should be derelict in my duty.”
“Cardiac arrest,” muttered Dr. Arbuthnot, “well, we all go by cardiac arrest in the final analysis.”
“He was ill.” Lady Fotheringay’s face was blotched with tears. “You said yourself he had a weak heart.”
“Yes indeed. Aftereffect of rheumatic fever. Though I would have expected a more gradual decline—breathlessness, angina, and so on. I confess I am not familiar with the effects of tropical poisons.”