by Carola Dunn
“We don’t know yet, but we will. Have you finished with my young fella?”
“Ay, sir, I can manage now. My thanks to you, lad, and there’ll be more when you lay hands on who killed his lordship.”
“Well?” Alec asked as they moved away.
“I finished going over the place,” Ernie said, “before I lent the old chap a hand. It was a wash-out. I know a lot more about growing palms than I used to, though. And he confirmed what Miss Lucy said, that children visiting are warned about the poisonous plants over and over.”
“I’d forgotten that. But it would add weight to Daisy’s latest theory.”
“What’s that, Chief?”
“That Lady Eva was more likely to speak to close relatives about their misdeeds than to those who wouldn’t bring scandal on her immediate family. I don’t for a moment believe she never spoke to Lady Devenish about the snapping up of unconsidered trifles. Walsdorf and Carleton also both denied she’d mentioned her discoveries to them, remember, and I’m more inclined to believe them. Neither would have visited as a child. It’s not definitive, of course. Either might happen to know about poisonous plants, or Lord Fotheringay might have pointed them out. Dammit, nothing is definitive! I assume the gardener wasn’t anywhere near here at the crucial times?”
“No, he was working in the kitchen garden in the afternoon and he’d gone home to his cottage before the nobs’ dinner time. And I asked him if Lord F had mentioned anything odd he’d noticed about anyone staying here, which he hadn’t. Seems all they ever talked about was potting soil mixes and fertilizers and watering schedules and such.”
“The only thing I can think of is that he might have seen a man with a stocking or pair of stockings the day before Lady Eva’s murder. If it was a married man, he wouldn’t think much of it, until he heard how she was killed. If he heard. We’ll have to find out whether it’s general knowledge. Daisy saw her, and Mrs. Reverend Timothy, but neither would have talked about the details. Who else?”
“The two maids, Chief.”
“If they talked, all the servants will have heard, and Tom will know about it. Let’s hope he has come up with something useful.”
But the only remotely useful information Tom had was an alibi for the butler. As Daisy had surmised, Baines had been in the housekeeper’s room when Bincombe was attacked, taking a glass of port—which Mr. Tring would kindly not mention to them as might object—and discussing the murders. The two maids had noticed only Lady Eva’s horrifying face, not what was around her neck.
“The murderer’d know it would come out once we started asking questions, though, Chief. I reckon Walsdorf’d be the most likely to have been seen by Lord F, seeing he lives in the house.”
“But Mr. Montagu’d be the one that’d look oddest carrying stockings,” Ernie argued, “seeing he’s not married.”
“What about the artificial silk end, Tom? Any of the ladies wear them?”
“Miss Angela, Mrs. Reverend, Mrs. Lieutenant Colonel, Mrs. Walsdorf, just who you’d expect from what we’ve found out about their financial situations. They all had an odd stocking or two, but they ladder so easy that’s not surprising. The colour didn’t help. It’s the most popular shade at Woolworth’s and most of the maids have a pair for their days out. So it doesn’t really mean anything. Anyone could get hold of them easy enough.”
“Walsdorf, Sir James, Lady Devenish, Lord Carleton, Montagu,” said Alec. “Or conceivably Teddy Devenish with his mother covering up for him. Maybe someone will have an explanation for his whereabouts that we can disprove. That would seem to be our only remaining hope.”
24
John Walsdorf was the first of the remaining suspects to come down. Alec had already looked under the blotter on the desk in the library and failed to find there the letter in a foreign language. He couldn’t see what bearing it could possibly have on the case, but he asked about it first.
“It is a letter to my mother in Luxemburg,” Walsdorf said calmly. “I can show if you wish, but you will not understand. It is in letzeburgesh. I forgot about it yesterday because I was very busy. When I went to the letter-box I remembered and I came to get it, after I gave Mrs. Fletcher’s note to you.”
“Why did you hide it in the first place?”
“Some tell me, since I wish to be English, I must give up my family in Luxemburg. It is better that they do not know I write. But it is no crime, I think.”
“No crime at all. Where were you at tea-time and after dinner?”
“Writing letters. Yesterday I wrote many letters, to all those who were to come to the wedding. Even those I reached by telegraph or telephone, they must have a letter also. It is etiquette. Because you were using this room, I wrote in Lord Haverhill’s study. He can tell you I gave him many, many letters to sign, but he did not watch me write them. I have no alibi, as you say.”
“You don’t seem worried about it.”
“I am not. I have killed no one, and I trust the British system of law. It is fairer, I believe, than the Code Napoléon, though everywhere justice is better for the rich than the poor.”
Alec was not inclined to argue. As further questioning elicited no new information, John Walsdorf remained on his list.
As he was leaving, Alec said, “Oh, by the way, I need to send a constable into Cambridge with something to be analysed by a chemist. Do you think Lord Haverhill’s chauffeur could give him a lift?”
If Walsdorf knew of the powder his wife had offered Lucy and left for Daisy, his face showed no sign of it. “His lordship wishes every effort to be made to assist you. I shall tell Baines to send the chauffeur to you immediately,” he said.
By the time he left, Lord Carleton was up and about. He was perfectly prepared to account for his late arrival at tea and absence after dinner.
He never drank tea, he said, disliking the beverage, and he felt no need to eat between luncheon and dinner. “Having written a letter, and not wishing my wife to see the name and address on the envelope,” he continued blandly, “I decided to walk down to the letter-box at the end of the drive. I’m sure the constable stationed there can confirm seeing me.”
“We’ll ask him.” Whether the constable had been bright enough to note the time was another matter. The postman might remember Carleton’s letter and when he had picked it up from the box. It would all have to be checked. “But you did in the end turn up at tea in the drawing room.”
“When I returned, I found Adela and my daughter still in the bedroom, where I had counted on a half hour of peace and quiet. Adela did not want to go down. Ursula was complaining bitterly of being deprived of cake, and I was … irritated enough to insist on their making an appearance. Adela refused to go without my ‘protection,’ so down we all went.”
“When you came in from the post, you crossed the hall to the stairs. Did you see anyone?”
“Not that I recall. Oh, wait a minute, the butler was just disappearing through the baize door.”
No help there, unless Baines had chanced to turn his head and see Carleton enter the hall from the corridor or dining room or Long Gallery. Alec looked at Tom, who shook his head.
Of course, Carleton could have come through the front door after going round the house from the conservatory.
His explanation of his whereabouts after dinner was equally impossible to prove or disprove. Going out to the terrace to smoke a cigar, he had seen Angela crossing the lawn below with her dog, her back to him. Even if she had seen him—and she said she had seen no one—he could easily have gone from the terrace to the conservatory by way of the Long Gallery and dining room and returned before Daisy reached the conservatory. People had kept stopping her to talk, and several minutes had passed between Gerald’s appearance in the drawing room to summon her and her escape. Long enough, at any rate, for the murderer to assault him and make himself scarce.
Like Walsdorf, Carleton again denied that Lady Eva had taxed him with her discovery of his secret.
When he
left the library, the chauffeur came in.
“Mr. Baines said to tell you, sir, Lord and Lady Tiverton are here. They had a peep at Lord Gerald and they’ve gone up to see his lordship—Lord Haverhill, that is—and then they want to talk to you.”
A complication he didn’t need, Alec thought, though an inevitable one. He had impressed upon the day-nurse that everyone was to be told Bincombe’s condition was unchanged. He could only hope she had managed to convince the Marquis and Marchioness of the wisdom of this course.
He had Piper telephone the Cambridge police headquarters to ask what chemist they used to analyse evidence and to request that the postman and the constable who had been stationed at the gate yesterday evening should be questioned. The chauffeur went off with the paper of supposed bromide. Meanwhile, Tom went out to the flower bed below the terrace outside the drawing room, where he found the stub of a cigar of the make Carleton said he smoked.
“’Course,” Tom said gloomily, “it don’t prove he spent long enough out there last night to smoke the whole thing. Could be one he smoked earlier and saved.”
A footman came in to report that Sir James Devenish had just returned from a fishing expedition to the stream in the park and was willing to be interviewed while his catch was cooked for his breakfast.
“Bad form,” the Baronet said guiltily, “with Mother just popped off yesterday, but a morning like this is irresistible. I sneaked out before Josephine woke up. What can I tell you?”
“Tea-time yesterday You weren’t there.”
An extraordinarily furtive look crossed Sir James’s ruddy, open face. He even glanced behind him before saying confidentially, “Fact of the matter is, I popped down to the village shop. There’s a footpath across the park. Know you fellows said no one was to leave, but I just went to get the Pink ’Un.”
“Buying the Sporting Times is not a crime, sir, though it might have been a good idea to let us know before you went. No doubt the shopkeeper will be able to tell us when you were there.”
“Fact is, I didn’t get there till nearly six, just before they closed. I went for a walk through the woods.”
“You don’t care for tea, perhaps?”
“Nothing against tea, though I’d rather have a whisky and soda any day.” He glanced back again. “What I don’t care for is these demmed family gatherings. Mean to say, at home everyone knows Ruby and wants to hear about her latest litter. Here, no one gives a damn if I tell ’em Admiral’s lame in the left foreleg! What am I supposed to talk to people about? Must say, your wife put up a demmed good show when they stuck the poor girl next to me at dinner, but I could see her eyes glazing over.”
“Why did you come to Haverhill, then?”
“Oh, Mother insisted. Big family wedding. Duty to turn out and all that twaddle. Besides, the stream is well worth fishing.”
“Did you meet anyone on your walk?”
“Not a soul.”
“That’s a pity. What about after dinner last night? I assume you were once again escaping the family … .”
“Escaping Rupert.”
“ … But where did you escape to?”
“Suggested a game of billiards to Henry—m’cousin, don’t you know—but he seemed to think he should be protecting Marjorie and the girls.”
“You didn’t feel it necessary to protect Lady Devenish?”
“Gad no! I mean, there may be times when I’d like to put her out of her misery, but why should anyone else? Besides, she said she was going to wait in the hall for Teddy and I’ll be demmed if I was going to stand around with her like a silly ass.”
“You didn’t, by any chance, decide to put your mother ‘out of her misery’?”
“Mother? Good Lord no! Mother enjoyed life. Josephine don’t seem to a lot of the time. Not that I’d touch a hair of her head, of course.”
“So, when Mr. Henry failed to cooperate, where did you go?”
“The gun-room. I like guns. Uncle Nick has a good collection. Not been out shooting in years though. Not being properly taken care of. Aubrey not interested.” He brightened. “Young Rupert might be, come to think of it. Soldiers—guns. Anyway, just went to potter around. Thought I might go out today, pigeons, rabbits, whatnot. But fishing seemed less disrespectful, somehow.”
“The gun-room is opposite a door to the conservatory which we have reason to believe was used when Lord Gerald was attacked.”
“Devil take it,” Sir James roared, “I can see why you might suspect me of doing in poor Mother, but why the deuce should I go for Bincombe? Perfectly decent fellow!”
Alec ignored the roar and the question. “Did you hear footsteps, doors opening and closing, anything like that?”
“Matter of fact, I did. Thought I heard a door close, and damme, I nearly looked out to see who it was. Then I remembered there wasn’t anyone I wanted to talk to and hoped he wouldn’t come in. But it had caught my attention and I heard footsteps in the corridor, then another door opening and closing.”
“A man’s footsteps?”
Sir James’s forehead creased. “My dear chap, demmed if I can say. I assumed so—gun-room, billiard-room, what?—most likely to be a chap. In a hurry, that’s all I can tell you. Then I didn’t hear anything for a bit, then another door opening and closing, and footsteps going away. Damme, you mean if I’d stuck me head out the door, I’d’ve caught the murderer practically red-handed?”
“I would say it’s a great pity you didn’t, except that you would undoubtedly have been attacked too.”
“Dare say I can give as good an account of myself as anyone.”
“Who knew you were going to the gun-room?”
“No one. Stands to reason, don’t it, if you want a bit of peace and quiet you don’t tell people where you’re going!”
“If your wife was in the hall, she’d have seen you turn down the passage.”
“Nipped along while she was in the cloakroom,” Sir James said in a tone of self-congratulation. “Not a soul saw me.”
And equally, he had seen no one. Alec found it hard to believe that the baronet was capable of making up such a story and presenting it in a credible manner.
“Ah,” said Tom. “Seems a pretty straightforward chap, but remember how Mrs. Fletcher thought he’s under the cat’s paw while all the time it’s him that holds the whip hand. And Mrs. Fletcher isn’t easily fooled.”
“You’re right, in spite of the mixed metaphors. We’ll have to dig into his financial situation, find out how badly he needed the London house and whatever the estate was paying out to Lady Eva. Ring the Yard, will you, Tom, and get them going on that. Strictly speaking it’s not Fraud Squad territory, but see if you can get Fielding. I’d better go and find Lord and Lady Tiverton and find out if they’re after my blood.”
Daisy and Lucy went downstairs together and headed straight for Gerald’s room. The constable on duty refused point-blank to let them go in and could not be budged. His lordship’s condition was unchanged, he said. Lucy unhappily believed the statement; Daisy rather doubted but she didn’t dare reassure Lucy after Alec’s absolute prohibition.
“Breakfast,” said Daisy.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come on, darling. It won’t help Gerald if you fade away.”
“It’s nothing to do with Gerald. I’m just not hungry.”
“Come and keep me company, then. I don’t expect anyone will be there. Alec kept them up very late last night.”
“Did it help?” Lucy listlessly accompanied her breakfastward.
“He’s narrowed it down to five people who had motives to murder Lady Eva and no alibis for tea-time or after dinner.”
“Who?” Lucy demanded.
“Darling, Alec would kill me if I told you. What’s more, he’d never again tell me anything.”
Lucy didn’t argue, and that, more than anything, worried Daisy.
Angela was the only person already at breakfast. “Awfully sorry, Lucy,” she said gruffly. “Wish I’
d arrived just a couple of minutes earlier and nabbed the brute, or even stopped him. Any news?”
Lucy shook her head. Going to the sideboard, she poured herself a cup of coffee. Her back to Angela she said, “Daisy says you saved his life.”
Angela flushed. “Oh, it was really Nancy. And that big detective, Sergeant Tring. All I did was stop the bleeding. Anyone could have done it.”
“I couldn’t.” Daisy was filling a plate with scrambled eggs, two sausages, and two triangles of toast. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.” That was somewhat of an exaggeration, considering she hadn’t been at all sure Angela wouldn’t finish Gerald off as soon as she left. But she had to make up for Lucy’s ungraciousness.
At least Lucy sat down at the same end of the table as Angela, though she just stared into her coffee, stirring it.
“Someone had to go for help,” Angela said. “Daisy was jolly efficient. Lots of people would have just broken down in tears.”
“I waited to do that until after I’d summoned help,” said Daisy, joining them. “Are you going to take Tiddler for a walk this morning, Angela? A stroll down to the lake is just what I need.”
“Yes, right after breakfast.”
“Why don’t you come, Lucy?”
“I can’t. Binkie‘s—Gerald’s—parents are bound to turn up and they’ll want to see me. I can’t think what I’m going to say to them.”
“Darling, would you like me to stay and face them with you?” Daisy offered.
“No, thanks.” Lucy returned to contemplation of her coffee.
Later, walking down the track with Tiddler bouncing around them, daily more self-confident, Daisy said, “I’m sorry Lucy was so unappreciative.”