The Odds On Murder: an Inspector Constable murder mystery (The Inspector Constable murder mysteries Book 6)

by Roger Keevil

  “‘Unlawful killing by person or persons unknown’,” quoted Dave Copper, as the detectives climbed back into the car. “I could have told them that and saved them the trouble. It was hardly worth even sitting down. No help at all.”

  “On the contrary,” said Andy Constable. “At least one thing has been achieved. The body has been released for burial, which means we get a funeral, which means we get to hear the full details of the will.”

  “And you reckon that’s going to help?”

  Constable shrugged. “Maybe not. But there may be a few extra facts which might add to the sum total of our knowledge.”

  “If my notebook is anything to go by, guv,” returned Copper, “we’re drowning in facts. My handwriting is getting smaller and smaller. And if we’re off to see this housekeeper woman, you can bet she’ll pile a few more facts on.”

  “And eventually they will form a pattern,” said Constable. “Have faith, sergeant. Whatever happened to that power of positive thinking you always used to go on about?”

  “It’s suffering from writer’s cramp, guv.”

  “Then you’d better start wiggling your fingers in anticipation, because it’s not going to take very long to get to Effingham Hall.” Constable started the car.

  “You’ll be wishing to speak to Mrs. Carruthers, I assume, gentlemen?” said Pelham as he answered the front door.

  “We would,” confirmed Constable.

  “If you would care to step inside, inspector, I will fetch her for you. Perhaps my sitting room would be convenient …”

  “Oh, please don’t put yourself to any trouble, Mr. Pelham,” interrupted Constable. “We’ll go to her. If you could just point us in the right direction …” The detectives passed through the indicated maroon baize door at the foot of the stairs and found themselves in a short corridor, at the end of which, alongside a door which evidently led out to the stable yard, was an open door, through which floated the sound of a rather erratic soprano rendering of ‘We’ll Gather Lilacs’. Constable tapped on the door and went in.

  A short grey-haired dumpling of a woman looked up from where she was arranging a batch of scones on a baking tray. “Just give me a moment to get these into the oven,” she said and, suiting the action to the word, bent down to place the tray into a neat modern gas cooker which looked quite intimidated by the cavernous old-fashioned cast-iron range alongside it. Straightening, she wiped her hands on a cloth, carefully set a timer on the kitchen table, and removed the apron she wore, to reveal a neat and unfussy grey blouse above a plain black skirt and extremely sensible shoes. “Can I help you?” she enquired, in a brisk Scots accent.

  “Do all housekeepers have to be Scottish?” murmured Copper in an aside to his superior. “Is it the law?”

  Constable ignored him. “You’ll be Mrs. Carruthers, I take it?”

  “That’s right, sir. Elspeth Carruthers. And you’ll be the police gentlemen Mr. Pelham said would be calling, no doubt.”

  “We are. Detective Inspector Constable and Detective Sergeant Copper.” The two offered their warrant cards for perusal. “And as I’m sure you’ve been told, we’d like your help in answering some questions about the events on the day of Sir Richard’s death.”

  “Of course, inspector. It’s all very sad. Anything I can do. Won’t you sit down? I can spare you a quarter of an hour until the scones come out.” Elspeth took a seat on one of the chairs surrounding the table and gestured to the detectives to do likewise. She folded her hands in her lap and regarded the inspector calmly.

  “A few basic facts to start with,” began Constable. “Am I right in thinking that you have been employed here for some while?”

  “Indeed I have,” replied Elspeth. “I’ve worked for Sir Richard and Lady Olivia for over twenty-five years.”

  “And is there a Mr. Carruthers?”

  “Oh, bless you, no,” smiled Elspeth. “Don’t be fooled. ‘Mrs’ is just the courtesy title they always used to give to the housekeeper in the old days, whether she was married or not. And of course, Sir Richard was very much a traditionalist, just like his father, and with Lady Olivia having been brought up in a big house, they very much keep to the old ways. So no, I’m not married. I never have been. I’m happily wedded to the job.” There was an aura of contentment about her that tended to confirm her words.

  “Have you been the housekeeper all that time?”

  “No. I used to be the assistant to the previous housekeeper, Mrs. Ford, but then I took over the post when she retired about fifteen years ago.”

  “And other than Mr. Pelham, are you the only member of staff in the house?”

  “That’s correct, inspector.”

  “Isn’t that rather arduous for one lady on her own?” Constable delicately left the matter of age out of the enquiry.

  “Oh, it’s a very easy house to look after really,” declared Elspeth stoutly. “What with only Sir Richard and her ladyship in residence. And Master James from time to time, of course.” A barely perceptible sniff. “But I do have Mrs. Jenkins who comes up from the village every morning to do the rough work – the dusting and the vacuuming and making the beds and so on – but she’s usually gone by eleven o’clock.”

  “So your responsibilities would be …?”

  “I look after the valuable items,” said Elspeth with a touch of pride. “Lady Olivia has some lovely pieces of porcelain. Quite valuable too. Her grandfather left several of them to her, and he was a great connoisseur, they say, so of course they do require an especially delicate touch. And of course, there’s also Sir Richard’s oriental collection in the cabinet in the library.”

  “Yes, we have seen that, Mrs. Carruthers. In fact, it was one of the things we were particularly interested in …”

  “Oh, I know what you’re going to say,” interrupted Elspeth. “That horrible dagger. Mr. Pelham told me all about it. He said, when he found Sir Richard, there it was, sticking right out of him.” She gave a shudder of horror. “It’s so sharp. Once or twice I’ve nearly cut myself just picking it up to dust. I always did think that cabinet should have been kept locked with that inside it.”

  “You’re probably right. We believe it possible that whoever was responsible for using it to attack Sir Richard may simply have seized it on the spur of the moment.”

  Elspeth shook her head in puzzlement. “No, that can’t be, inspector,” she declared firmly.

  Constable senses were alerted. “Why do you say that, Mrs. Carruthers?”

  “Of course, it normally lives in there for anyone to see, and quite often, if guests came to the house, Sir Richard would show them his collection, especially if he had a new piece that he’d just added. But on that particular morning, when I went in to do the library at about a quarter past eleven, the dagger wasn’t there. And I remember it was that day, because I don’t do the inside of the cabinet every day on account of it being closed to keep out the dust most of the time, but this was my day to do the inside. And the dagger was gone then – I’m certain of it.”

  Constable pondered for a moment, and glanced across to check that Copper was noting all the relevant details. “Hmmm. We shall look into that, Mrs. Carruthers. But for the moment I’d like to move on. Can you tell me when would have been the last time you saw Sir Richard?”

  “That would have been just after lunch, inspector. He came into the kitchen to apologise to me for Mr. James not having been there. You see,” Elspeth explained, “when Sir Richard and her ladyship were alone in the house, they would normally just have a light luncheon, very often something cold, but when Master James comes to stay, Lady Olivia usually likes me to do a little extra something. And it so happens that I’d made a soufflé, but Master James didn’t appear, and she and Sir Richard found it all a little embarrassing. That’s why he made a point of coming to see me afterwards. He was always such a gentleman. He always hated it when any of the staff were put out.”

  “And you didn’t see him after that?” Constable sought to co
nfirm.

  “No, inspector. I was busy in here for most of the afternoon, because the family were entertaining in the evening. Her ladyship popped in to let me know that there would be an extra dinner guest, so I was preparing the food as soon as I came back downstairs after my afternoon nap. I always try to take a little nap after lunch,” she confided. “After all, I’m not getting any younger, and her ladyship is always very understanding.”

  “I’m sure,” smiled Constable. “Which would then bring us on to the evening.”

  “I did spend a little time out in the rest of the house on and off,” said Elspeth. “Of course, I was mainly in here making sure that all the dinner preparations were in hand, but I was in the drawing room at about a quarter to eight when Lady Olivia came in. I try to be finished in there before the family appear, but it’s not always easy to gauge, because Mr. Pelham doesn’t sound a gong.”

  “And you were in the drawing room because …?”

  “I always like to check the flowers and make sure the drinks are all topped up. And it’s just as well I did, because the whisky decanter was almost empty, so I’d just refilled it and fetched a fresh jug of water and some ice when her ladyship came in.”

  “And do you prepare the drinks for the family?”

  “Oh no.” Elspeth looked slightly shocked. “That wouldn’t be my job at all. That would be Mr. Pelham’s province, except that the family always saw to their own drinks before dinner. Sir Richard preferred it that way, because he was always one for his whisky and water, and he was most particular about the proportions. They had to be just right. And if anyone ever mentioned the question of ice, he would give them such a glare!” A small smile. “As a good Scotswoman, I have to say I agreed with him.”

  “And the others?”

  “Her ladyship? She usually has either a dry sherry or a gin and tonic. I remember she went to the table and poured herself a gin as soon as she arrived. The ice is for her.”

  “Not whisky?”

  “Oh no. She always says she doesn’t like the smell. And then there’s Master James. He always drinks Sir Richard’s best whisky – well, he would.”

  “So the family were all gathered together by the time you left the room?”

  “Sir Richard came in while I was there. And I saw Master James coming downstairs just as I was leaving the drawing room. I assumed that was where he was going. But I didn’t see because I’d gone back through the door to the kitchen by then.”

  “Did you happen to see any more of the family or their guests at any other point?” enquired Constable.

  Elspeth thought for a moment. “I did,” she stated. “I remember, I had just gone to put the centrepiece of flowers on the dining table at about twenty past eight, and I was going back towards the kitchen when I saw her ladyship going upstairs. And I remember thinking at the time, seeing the expression on her face, she looked as if she was upset over something, and in fact, she still had the handkerchief in her hand from earlier, so for all I know, she could have been wiping away a tear, if that doesn’t sound too melodramatic. But then I was away back to the kitchen, and what with everything that went on afterwards, I didn’t give it another thought.”

  “Did you by any chance see where she’d come from?”

  A frown. “No, I don’t think so, inspector. She was already on the staircase when I saw her. I assume she must have come from the drawing room. That’s where I’d last seen her.”

  “And as you say, the events we’re looking into occurred immediately after that.”

  “That’s so, sir. Just when I got back to the kitchen, I thought I heard what might have been a car out at the back, and I remember wondering if perhaps Master James and Lady Olivia had had some sort of an argument, and he’d gone off with a flea in his ear, but of course, that wasn’t so. And then there came the bang, which they said afterwards was the gunshot. I came out into the hall, and Mr. Pelham was just going into the library, when all of the sudden there was a loud banging at the front door, and I thought ‘Well, Mr. Pelham can’t be in two places at once’, so I went to open the door and let young Mr. Elliott in. And at the same time, her ladyship and Master James appeared, as well as that Mrs. Baverstock out of the drawing room. And then straight after that, Mr. Pelham came out of the library and broke the news to us that Sir Richard had been killed, and then he telephoned the police.” Elspeth stopped to catch her breath after this dramatic recital.

  As if to place a punctuation mark at the end of Elspeth’s evidence, the kitchen timer began to ring.

  “Your baking would appear to be ready, Mrs. Carruthers,” remarked Constable with a smile, as the housekeeper rose to remove the tray from the oven. “And very fine they look,” he added, surveying the golden-topped scones.

  “All in the timing, inspector,” replied Elspeth.

  “I imagine it’s a great deal easier with a modern oven, rather than the old range your predecessors had to use.”

  “It is that,” she agreed. “People say those were the days, but they really weren’t. All that nasty dirty coal, making such a mess. That’s one of the reasons this house is so easy to keep clean. Not a lump of coal in the place.”

  “But …” Constable was puzzled. “But the fire in the library …”

  Elspeth chuckled. “Oh, bless you, inspector, that’s not a real fire. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. No, there aren’t any real fires in the house at all. About five years ago, Sir Richard had all the fireplaces in the house converted to gas with those things that look like coal or logs. He might have been a traditionalist in many ways, but he wasn’t averse to a bit of modernity when it suited him, and they save so much time and mess.”

  “Gas …” mused Constable.

  “That’s right,” continued Elspeth. “He had the house connected to the village’s mains supply at the same time. It cost a pretty penny, I think, but I’m sure it’s been a saving in the long run.”

  “And beforethat?”

  “Oh, the house had gas before then, but that was from its own gas plant. I think they thought they were very modern when the house was built. There’s a great big ugly piece of machinery out in one of the buildings around the stable yard, but the place has been disused and locked up for years. No, everything’s natural gas from the mains now.”

  Chapter 12

  “Questions, questions, questions,” muttered Andy Constable in an undertone. The two detectives stood at the foot of the dimly-lit stairwell of Effingham Hall.

  “Sorry, guv?”

  The inspector came back to himself. “I was just thinking, sergeant,” he said. “It seems to me that the more questions I ask, the more questions pop up to join them.”

  “Isn’t that usually the way it is, guv?” replied Dave Copper. “And then you keep on asking questions, and then eventually the answers start fitting into place, and all of a sudden, you’ve got your jigsaw.”

  Constable smiled. “I think I detect the notorious Copper power of positive thinking coming into play, if I’m not much mistaken.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, guv,” grinned Copper. “And if you need any help, I’ve got my notebook here, full of goodies, which you are very welcome to take a look through.”

  Constable recoiled in mock horror. “Thank you for the very kind offer, sergeant, but I’ve got quite enough things swirling round in my brain already without adding to the stock of them just at the moment. In due course, yes, I will trawl through what you’ve got, although I suspect that I will end up with severe eye strain and a blinding headache from trying to decipher your scrawl.”

  “Decent calligraphy takes time, sir,” retorted Copper, a touch huffily. “That’s a luxury you don’t usually allow me.”

  “True. And don’t think your efforts go unappreciated.”

  “Well, thanks for that, guv,” said Copper, mollified. “So, what next?”

  “Or where, or who?”

  “Are we back to Kipling’s ‘six honest serving men’, guv?”

 
“I think we are. And well remembered, by the way. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.”

  “Can I suggest, sir, as we’re here, that here might be a good place to start. That is, if you’ve got any more of those questions of yours for the people in the house.”

  “I certainly have. Lady Olivia, for a start. I think, when we first spoke to her, she was evasive, to say the least, about Sir Richard’s relationship with her and these other women of his. I think there’s more to find out there. So all we need to do is see if the lady is available.”

  “You’ll want Mr. Pelham, sir. I don’t think he’d approve if we were just to go barging round the place looking for her.”

  “Very true. So where, I wonder, is a butler to be found at this hour of the day?”

  “May I help you, sir?” The voice at Constable’s elbow almost caused him to jump out of his skin, as Pelham materialised alongside him. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve just been attending to something in the dining room, and as I came out I thought I heard my name.”

  “You move very quietly, Mr. Pelham,” commented Constable, recovering himself.

  “It is the training, sir,” said Pelham complacently. “What was it you were wanting?”

  “To have a word with Lady Olivia, if that’s possible.”

  “Her ladyship is in the morning room, sir. If you will follow me, I will see if she will receive you.”

  “How very grand,” murmured Copper to Constable, as the butler disappeared into the morning room. A low exchange of voices could be heard.

  “Would you please come this way, inspector.” Pelham held back the door to allow the two detectives to enter the room.

  Lady Olivia rose from her seat at a small and exquisite Boule writing-desk in the window of the room, leaving a scatter of black-edged cards on its surface. “Good day, inspector.”

  “I hope we’re not disturbing you, your ladyship.”

  “No more than you must, I suppose.” A faint smile. “And you take me away from a task which I do not particularly relish. I’ve received notification that I may arrange Richard’s funeral, and so I was in the process of doing so. Not that it will be a particularly large affair. There is, after all, next to no family. And the last thing I want is the whole world watching. So we shall have a brief service for a few people in the village church – that’s where the Effingham family vault is.”