Murder in the Servants' Hall

by Addison, Margaret

  ‘I think you had better leave, Miss Denning.’ There was a coldness to the butler’s voice that Rose found chilling. ‘We shall perhaps continue this conversation when you are in a more rational frame of mind.’

  ‘I am in a perfectly rational frame of mind,’ cried Rose. ‘It is you who are not.’

  ‘Miss Denning!’ This time she had sufficiently provoked the butler to induce him to glare at her and raise his own voice. ‘Enough. I will not tolerate an outburst of this nature. Really, Miss Denning, I am surprised at your impertinence.’ He paused for a moment to achieve maximum effect. ‘Please remember that as a lady’s maid you are an upper servant, and as such you should set an example by your behaviour.’

  ‘I am sorry if I have offended you, Mr Mason,’ Rose said quietly, taking the seat previously proffered, much to the surprise and consternation of the butler. ‘But you see, I’m not really a servant so I am not sure how to behave as one. My name is not Miss Denning, it is Rose Simpson. I am what you might call an amateur detective. Mrs Grayson-Smith has engaged me to recover her diamond necklace.’ She removed her spectacles. ‘Naturally I am now also required to investigate the murder of Velda Cooper. I would, therefore, very much appreciate it if you would answer my questions.’

  The butler stared at her dumbfounded. His mouth opened, but no words came out. During what he had called her outburst, he had risen to his full height and stuck out his pigeon chest in an imposing fashion. Now he seemed to falter. His hands clung to the fabric of his waistcoat and he removed an imaginary piece of fluff from his coat. Slowly he lowered himself on to his chair. All the while his lips were working silently, as if of their own accord. It was as if he were trying to formulate sentences before saying them aloud.

  ‘’What hold has Albert over you, Mr Mason?’ asked Rose gently. A sudden thought struck her. ‘Is he … is he by any chance your son?’

  ‘No, he is not, Miss Simpson,’ the butler retorted. ‘I don’t know what made you think such a thing. I am unmarried.’

  Rose was relieved to see some colour had been restored to his cheeks. She had an odd desire to laugh at his righteous indignation.

  ‘But he does have a hold over you, does he not? Won’t you tell me what it is?’

  The butler raised his head and gave a look of resignation. Rose thought he also looked a little relieved at the prospect of relinquishing his secret.

  ‘I suppose it had to come out in the end, Miss Simpson. Albert didn’t take the snuff box. I did.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Inspector Connor did not think that he had ever seen such a disreputable looking young fellow. The footman was dressed in a smart enough livery of striped waistcoat and tails, but the waistcoat had been done up haphazardly, with some of the buttons inserted in the wrong holes, as if the wearer did not give a care about the overall effect. There was a smudge of grease on one of the jacket’s lapels, and the man’s bow tie was slanted, as if it had been knocked, or had caught on something; it looked almost on the verge of coming undone. To make matters worse, the man’s hair did not look brushed, and a lock fell carelessly over one eye.

  It was not, however, the man’s dishevelled and unkempt appearance that had caused the inspector to arrive at such a negative assessment of him. It had more to do with the way the man had slouched into the room, hands in pockets, whistling softly under his breath. He had fallen further in Inspector Connor’s estimations by throwing himself down into a chair before it was proffered, and looking at them impertinently, a grin on his face. Meanwhile, Sergeant Perkins, intrigued by such a blatant show of nonchalance and indifference, said to himself: ‘He’s our man!’ Even Sergeant Harris, not a man given to excessive displays of emotion, could not hide his interest in the man lounging in the chair before them. He moved to take up his usual position, flicking open his notebook and picking up his pencil in eager anticipation.

  ‘Now, young man, we have one or two questions to ask you,’ said the inspector, adopting an authoritative tone, ‘and you’d do well to answer them truthfully and without any cheek, mind.’

  Albert raised his eyebrows lazily and gave the inspector something of a disrespectful look. Inspector Connor glared at him. It was a damn shame that a fellow like that was so handsome, and didn’t he know it. He was just the sort of chap girls went mad over and he’d lead them astray all right. Manipulative, that’s what he was. You could see it by the look in his eyes, and sly eyes they were too. Why, if he and his wife had been fortunate enough to have daughters, he wouldn’t have let them anywhere near the fellow.

  The door opened and Rose walked into the library. The insolent look on the man’s face disappeared immediately and was replaced by one of apprehension.

  ‘’Ere, what’s she doing ’ere? She’s no business being ’ere. Tell her to leave.’

  Sergeant Harris sat up in his chair and gazed at Rose speculatively. It was interesting that the girl’s appearance had caused such a reaction in the fellow. He certainly was none too pleased to see her, that was for sure.

  ‘This is Miss Simpson. I think you may know her rather better by the name Miss Denning,’ said Inspector Connor, rather enjoying the man’s obvious discomfort. ‘Miss Simpson is something of a private enquiry agent. She has been engaged by Mrs Grayson-Smith to investigate the disappearance of a diamond necklace. She is also assisting us with our investigation into the murder of Miss Cooper.’

  Albert paled visibly and swallowed hard. The inspector thought he could detect beads of perspiration on the young man’s brow. There was certainly a look of fear in his eyes. Perhaps suddenly aware that his feelings had betrayed him, Albert made concerted efforts to regain his composure.

  ‘I don’t care who she is,’ he said sullenly. ‘I don’t want her here. I don’t have to have her here.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ agreed the inspector, ‘not if you object.’

  ‘Well, I do –’ began Albert.

  ‘I am quite sure you don’t object to my presence, do you, Albert?’ said Rose sweetly. ‘If you do, I’m afraid that I might feel it my duty to tell the inspector about our … our little conversation on the stairs. The one we were having before your uncle interrupted us.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ snarled Albert.

  ‘Why ever not?’ said Rose coldly. ‘I rather think Inspector Connor would accept my version of events over yours, don’t you?’

  If they had been alone, she thought it likely that Albert would have leapt from his chair and struck her. However, with the policemen present, and with the fear of having some of his more unsavoury behaviour revealed, this course of action was not open to him. It therefore did not surprise her when he did no more than lower his head and make them wait for his reply.

  ‘Oh, all right. Let her stay then. I don’t care,’ he muttered at last, almost under his breath so that Sergeant Harris was obliged to lean forward in his chair to catch his words.

  ‘Then that settles it,’ said Inspector Connor. ‘Now young man. I should like to ask you some questions, and as I have already said, I’d advise you to answer them truthfully, if you know what’s good for you.’ He gave Albert a hard stare. ‘If you are innocent, you have nothing to worry about. Thanks to Miss Simpson here, we know a great deal already.’

  Albert blanched and threw Rose a dirty look. He had entered the library an arrogant young man. Now the wind had been taken firmly out of his sails and he was an apprehensive one. With one hand he twisted a button on his waistcoat, with the other, he drummed his fingers on the seat of his chair.

  ‘How well did you know the deceased, Albert?’ The inspector’s stare was sufficient to make the man shift in his chair and avert his gaze.

  ‘Not very well. Just enough to pass the time of day.’

  ‘Is that so? And yet you were spotted embracing in the library yesterday.’

  ‘Who said we were? It ain’t true. Martha’s my girl. Ask anyone; they’ll tell you the same.’

  ‘And yet, as I understand it, you wer
e caught in the act of kissing Miss Cooper passionately. Is that usually how you pass the time of day with mere acquaintances?’

  Sergeant Harris gave a chuckle and Sergeant Perkins grinned.

  ‘It’s lies, I tell you,’ said Albert. ‘It’s all damned lies.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Now,’ said the inspector, putting up his hand as Albert made to protest, ‘I’d like to clear up this business of the theft before we do anything else. I’d like you to tell me about Mrs Grayson-Smith’s diamond necklace.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing about it,’ Albert replied grumpily, ‘it being missing, I mean. I saw the mistress wearing it at dinner when I was serving her. But I didn’t steal it. They’ve all got it in for me in this house, they have. Just because I got into a bit of trouble as a lad. They think I stole that stupid old snuff box and all, and that old Mason made me put it back.’ A smug look appeared on the footman’s face and he tapped his nose in a secretive manner. ‘But I know different.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Rose. Without exception, they all turned to look at her in surprise, Sergeant Harris included, his pencil poised in mid-air. ‘Your uncle took the snuff box,’ she said. ‘He told me so himself. You had got yourself into trouble again and you came to him for help. You owed some money to some rather unpleasant characters and you pleaded with your uncle for him to settle your debt.’

  ‘Well, aren’t we the clever one?’ said Albert rather nastily. ‘If you know so much, why don’t you tell the policemen here what happened?’

  ‘Very well, if you want me to. Your uncle agreed to help you but, not surprisingly, he did not have the amount of money you required readily to hand. He told you he would need to go to his bank to withdraw some of his savings. He intended to do so the very next day, but you were desperate. You needed the money that evening.’

  ‘He promised he’d help me,’ said Albert, his voice a petulant whine. ‘He said he’d pawn one of Mr Grayson-Smith’s old snuff boxes. He knew the pawnbroker chap, said he was honest and would give him a good price. The stupid box would only have been gone for one night. ’Cause he’d have got it back the next day when he’d got his money from the bank. Nobody would have been any the wiser. The master, he was away and no one else looks at those old boxes.’

  ‘But someone must have done,’ pointed out Sergeant Perkins, ‘because it was commented upon that the snuff box was missing.’

  ‘It was Mrs Field. Fieldy.’ Albert laughed. ‘That’s what Martha and Agnes call her. She’s a right interfering Mrs Grundy,’ He made a face. ‘She don’t approve of me. Always telling Martha she can do much better for herself.’

  ‘I daresay she’s right,’ piped up Sergeant Harris, not to be outdone by Sergeant Perkins.

  ‘What did you say?’ snarled Albert, turning around in his seat to face the older sergeant.

  ‘That will do,’ said the inspector, including the sergeant in his glance ‘Now, you were saying that Mason took the snuff box to pawn?’

  ‘Only he didn’t, did he?’ said Albert with a note of disgust in his voice. ‘Pawn it, that is. His conscience got the better of him. That’s what he told me. Halfway to the pawnbroker’s and he changes his mind. He couldn’t do it to the master, that’s what he said. Made a bit of a sermon of it. A butler must have absolute integrity and be honest. He must be beyond reproach.’

  ‘So he put the snuff box back? But not before it had been missed?’ said Inspector Connor.

  ‘That’s right, And I didn’t get my money until the next day,’ said Albert bitterly. ‘A broken rib I got because of it and a black eye. I was lucky they didn’t break my nose.’

  ‘It wasn’t your money,’ said Rose coldly. ‘It was your uncle’s. And I think you were jolly lucky that he gave it to you at all. It was his savings.’ She gave him a contemptuous look. ‘I doubt you even thanked him, not properly. And ever since, you have been holding that snuff box over him, threatening to tell everyone he is a thief. That’s why you are employed here, isn’t it, Albert? You would never have got the position of footman otherwise. You are lazy and slovenly and –’

  ‘’Ere, are you going to let her talk to me like that?’ protested the young man.

  ‘I doubt whether it’s any worse than you deserve,’ Inspector Connor said. ‘Now, Albert, you were telling me about the diamond necklace.’

  ‘I wasn’t. I ain’t got nothing to tell.’

  ‘Albert, this will not do. I suggest you be cooperative,’ said the inspector, finding the young man’s attitude tiresome in the extreme. At this rate the interview was likely to last a few hours. ‘We have it on good authority that you persuaded Martha to steal the necklace for you. You had discovered that it had been left out on top of the jewel box. I admit it was very careless of Mrs Grayson-Smith and quite a temptation to a fellow like you. Now, tell us what happened. I think we can agree it was a crime of opportunity. We know Martha threw the necklace out of the window into one of the stone flowerpots on the terrace, because she told us so herself, first to Miss Simpson and then she repeated her story to us.’

  ‘I say, you have been busy, Miss Simpson,’ said Albert, staring at her with open animosity. ‘All right. We decided to borrow the necklace. We weren’t going to keep it. We were going to return it as soon as it was missed.’

  Sergeant Harris gave a snort.

  ‘Anyway, it was Martha’s idea, not mine,’ said Albert glumly. ‘I didn’t want nothing to do with it. I knew I’d get the blame. But Martha, she got it into her head that she wanted to try it on. She wanted to see how it’d look with that dress of hers that she wears to dances, not that she could ever have worn it out.’

  ‘I should think not,’ said the inspector with some feeling. ‘Now Albert, what we want to know is, where is this necklace now? Did you sell it?’

  ‘No, I didn’t! Not on my mother’s life,’ cried Albert. ‘I haven’t got it. I never did have it.’ He glared at them. ‘Why won’t you listen to me? Martha told me she’d thrown it out of the window like we’d agreed, but it wasn’t there, not in the flowerpot. She swore blind she’d thrown it into the right one, but it wasn’t there. We looked in all the flowerpots. It was gone.’

  ‘When did you go on to the terrace to look for it?’ the inspector asked sharply.

  ‘Not ’til later that day,’ said Albert. ’Course, we’d have gone sooner only the mistress discovered the necklace was missing only a few minutes after Martha had thrown it out of the window. And what a to-do she made over it. You never did see such a fuss; ripping up carpets and emptying drawers. And then when she demanded that all the servants’ rooms be searched …’ He threw up his hands in a dramatic gesture.

  ‘You were in a panic?’ suggested Inspector Connor.

  ‘You’re right we were in a panic. We decided it was best to leave the necklace where it was.’

  ‘In the flowerpot?’

  ‘Yes. I told you.’

  ‘So you did,’ said the inspector gravely. ‘But here’s the thing, Albert. I don’t say you didn’t leave the necklace in the flowerpot until after the search. But I think you retrieved it later. I wager you’ve still got it. I don’t think it was lost, like you said. Now, young man, why don’t you give it to us? You know, Mrs Grayson-Smith has never officially reported that it was stolen. She strikes me as a thoroughly decent kind of woman. All she wants is her necklace back. I doubt very much she will press charges.’

  ‘How many more times must I tell you, Inspector? I haven’t got that damned necklace. I never had it.’ Albert covered his head with his hands. ‘Why won’t anyone believe me?’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Rose.

  ‘Do you?’ said the inspector looking interested.

  ‘Yes, I do. For the simple reason, Inspector, that Albert has been spending the whole day looking for the necklace. He came up to Cooper’s room to look for it while I was searching the room myself. It gave us both a fright, I can tell you.’

  What? You were searching the deceased’s room?’ cried the inspe
ctor, looking appalled. ‘Look here, Miss Simpson –’

  ‘And we had a conversation on the stairs, didn’t we, Albert?’ The man in question steadfastly refused to meet her gaze. ‘Albert demanded to know where the necklace was. He was quite insistent that I had it.’

  ‘If this fellow didn’t take it, what did happen to the necklace?’ asked Inspector Connor gruffly.

  ‘It was picked up from the flowerpot by someone else, someone who witnessed the necklace being thrown from the window.’

  ‘Who?’ asked the three policemen in unison. Albert, she noticed, looked only a little curious.

  ‘The deceased,’ said Rose. ‘I think Cooper was just about to go back into Mrs Grayson-Smith’s room when she saw Martha standing by the window. I fancy she watched her from the doorway. She would have been curious to know why the girl was there, particularly as Martha was no doubt acting in a furtive manner. And then, when she witnessed her throwing something out of the window, Cooper was just the type of woman who would want to know what it was.’

  ‘So she found an excuse to go out on to the terrace to investigate?’ said Sergeant Perkins. ‘I say, miss, she was jolly lucky to find the necklace. I mean, she didn’t know that the girl was aiming for one of the stone flowerpots, did she?’

  ‘No, but I think she could have made an educated guess. She was an intelligent woman. She would have realised that if Martha had thrown something straight on to the gravel, it would have been damaged, and when she inspected the terrace she would have seen that the soil in the flowerpots had been turned over and would make a soft landing. Besides, she might have known what she was looking for, which would have made it easier. She might even have spotted one of the diamonds glinting in the sun. And Mrs Grayson-Smith only had Cooper’s word for it that she didn’t look inside the jewel box to check that the necklace was there after she noticed that it had gone from the top. If she had, she would have realised immediately that the necklace was missing and guessed what she was looking for.’