by Ann Granger
Mrs Parry had an answer to that. ‘When he had shot poor Sir Henry, the wretch panicked. He did not want to be weighed down with booty or caught with any in his possession. He was forced to leave everyone and flee.’
‘But how did he get in without any sign of a forced window or door?’ Agnes protested.
‘Oh, these burglar fellows are very clever,’ said Mrs Parry. ‘They know all the tricks. Why, where I live in Marylebone, there have been some quite audacious burglaries from time to time. And that is in town, with a regular police patrol going past the house. On consideration, I feel the villain who killed Sir Henry was a professional housebreaker, not just a wandering tramp. A quiet country house would present no obstacle to a determined thief. The whole neighbourhood should be on the alert!’
I decided Mrs Parry must be stopped in her speculations. It was enough that the Beresfords had Sir Henry’s death to contend with, to say nothing of his restless spirit roaming the grounds, without poor Agnes being further frightened out of her wits at the thought of a ruthless burglar next turning his attention to Oakwood House.
‘He left the firearm behind at the scene of his crime,’ I said firmly. ‘Whoever he is, and wherever he is now, at least we have no reason to believe him armed.’
But Mrs Parry was now well wedded to her theory of the burglar. ‘He left the pistol because of its distinctive type. He could not risk being found with it, or attempting to sell it. What we shall find, mark my words, is that this may even be the work of a gang. It is the beginning of the season in London and country houses all over the place are standing empty, but for a notional staff. They are sitting targets. These rogues have but to go around them all, one by one, and help themselves. The wretches could be camped out on the heath.’
‘If it was only a burglar…’ said Agnes unexpectedly. ‘Somehow that would be not so bad. Dreadful, but— nothing to do with any of us.’
That was what she feared, I decided. That somehow responsibility for the murder would be laid at the door of this house. But why? There was no sign that the Beresfords were in need of money. What motive could Andrew Beresford have?
There was an awkward pause and then we began to talk of other things. It was as if we all three of us were anxious to ignore what had happened. The conversation became tea-table chatter of a desperate normality. Mrs Parry repeated her abhorrence of seaside resorts served by the railway, because it brought hordes of hoi polloi to these towns. I told our hostess that Mrs Dennis had received a postcard from Italy from the Hammets. Agnes revealed that she and her husband had travelled to Italy on their wedding journey. Mrs Parry recalled, with a sentimental sigh, that she and her late husband, my godfather, had travelled to Scotland. I confessed that Ben and I had not made any wedding journey because Ben had been busy with work at Scotland Yard. But we had promised ourselves a really good holiday somewhere, as soon as it was practical. The more we prattled, the more it seemed the ghost of Sir Henry intruded, as if it stood in the corner of the room and watched us with a sardonic twist of the lips. We were all trying to close him out; but he would not be excluded. I thought to myself that, when Mrs Parry and I left, poor Agnes Beresford would be alone here with that spectral presence, until her husband returned from the business that delayed him.
As we were leaving, Agnes suddenly seized my hand. ‘My dear Mrs Ross, I cannot thank you enough for coming, and Mrs Parry also. It has been such a relief just to be able to talk to someone.’
We were driven back to The Old Excise House in the landau. Halfway there, Mrs Parry leaned towards me and spoke just loudly enough for me to hear; but not to allow the coachman to catch an imprudent word.
‘I am surprised Mrs Beresford did not find something kind to say about poor Sir Henry. I suppose it is the shock of it all; to say nothing of the coffin being on the premises. Although when my late father, as part of his duties, visited the family of a deceased parishioner, it was quite usual to find the coffin set out on the dining-room table, so that neighbours could come and pay their respects.’
‘If Sir Henry’s coffin had been brought into the house, I think Mrs Beresford would have quitted it until after the funeral,’ I said. ‘She is worried enough about his lying in the icehouse.’
‘All very strange,’ mused Mrs Parry. ‘Somehow a little disrespectful, I must say.’
‘What do you make of the roses and the fan, left on the piano?’ I asked her.
‘Oh, there will be some simple explanation,’ Mrs Parry assured me. ‘I am afraid Mrs Beresford is not in full command of her imagination at the moment.’ She paused and added, ‘Mr Ross is coming to dine with us this evening, is he not?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He’s riding over from the inn on a hired pony.’
‘I shall tell him my ideas,’ said Mrs Parry with satisfaction. ‘He will be very interested to hear what I have to say. My theory of a gang of thieves explains everything!’
It might do so, I thought, but that does not mean it is correct. But I didn’t say so.
Inspector Ben Ross
Harcourt and I returned to the house where I requested that the pony and trap be made ready. I wanted to return to the inn, write up my notes, and think about what I’d learned. This whole house rattles with secrets, I thought. I must find time to talk to Lizzie this evening, before dinner, and without Mrs Parry’s presence.
‘Worked out who’s responsible, have you, Inspector?’ asked Tizard over his shoulder. He shook the reins and whistled to the pony.
‘Not yet. But I will,’ I called back above the rattle of the wheels and the thud of the pony’s hooves.
‘People here will be expecting a quick result,’ warned Tizard. ‘You being an expert in these matters, and come all the way down from London. They’re all frightened out of their wits. Well, it’s a bad business, no mistake. You can’t blame anyone here for wondering what might happen next.’
It occurred to me that the coachman might have opened this conversation for some particular reason. ‘Have you anything to tell me now that we’re alone, Tizard?’
The coachman thought this over and took his time replying. ‘No, can’t say as I have, Inspector Ross. It’s a bad business. Sir Henry always treated me very fair.’
‘Would you say he was a generous man?’
This question startled Tizard, who twisted on his seat to look at me in some surprise. ‘Well, now,’ he said. ‘He was a rich one, to be sure. ’Tis true he could be a little careful with the pennies. But I wouldn’t say that was a fault.’
‘He seems to have made use of that fellow, Evans,’ I said next. ‘I wonder he didn’t employ him full time as a groom.’
‘Oh, Davy wouldn’t have liked that,’ Tizard retorted. ‘A very independent sort of chap, is Davy. He is very good with the horses, though. Handles a boat well, too.’
‘Perhaps he should have joined the navy?’ I suggested.
‘Taking orders all day long?’ Tizard gave a bark of laughter. ‘Davy wouldn’t like that.’
And that, somehow, put an end to the conversation. But one thing had emerged from it. My standing had risen a notch or two in Tizard’s estimation. It hadn’t risen to the dizzy heights where he would address me as ‘sir’. But at least, now, I was addressed as ‘Inspector’.
We rattled into the yard of the Acorn Inn just as an empty hired fly was leaving. Another guest and accompanying luggage had been delivered. Jed, the potman, was carrying indoors a black portmanteau that looked expensive. Now, then, I wondered, who is here?
I soon found out. Mrs Garvey greeted me with excitement. ‘There you are, Inspector Ross! There is a new gentleman arrived and he had been asking about you. I put him in the snug.’
Ah, the snug. It had been set aside for my refuge but now I was to share it with another. Mrs Garvey preceded me to the door, tapped at it and opened it.
‘Inspector Ross has returned, sir.’
‘Is he there?’ asked a dry, familiar voice. My heart sank. I was indeed to have no privacy in this investigation. The
portmanteau I’d seen belonged to Pelham, the solicitor, and the fellow was apparently staying at the Acorn.
‘I am here, Mr Pelham!’ I called, and walked into the room.
Behind me, Mrs Garvey, called out to ask if we required a pot of tea. I told her yes, bring tea, because it seemed the quickest way to get rid of her.
Pelham, tall, thin black-clad crow that he was, rose to his feet and greeted me with a formal nod. We exchanged a handshake lacking in any warmth. His palm was dry and cold, though it was a warm day. His extraordinarily pale face showed no emotion. It occurred to me that, if he’d not already had an occupation, he would have done very well as a professional mourner.
‘You have had a good journey from London, Mr Pelham?’ I asked as we seated ourselves.
‘Yes,’ said Pelham. ‘I came on an early train. I had business in Southampton. Afterwards, I crossed to Hythe on the ferry and hired the fly at the livery stable there to come on here. It was straightforward.’
He waited, his slate-blue eyes fixed on my face. They were as expressionless and unnerving as those of a china doll. I realised I was expected to give an account of my day. Well now, I thought. You will not learn anything from me that you cannot find out from others. You would not discuss your legal business with me. I have no intention of taking you into my confidence regarding police business.
‘I have been to see the scene of the crime,’ I told him.
‘A dreadful affair,’ said Pelham. ‘Sir Henry was a very distinguished gentleman, well known in the district.’
‘I’m sure he was,’ I agreed. ‘I understand he was a magistrate.’
‘Naturally. Are the staff all still there?’
I nodded. ‘I have told them they must have police permission before they disperse about the country. Tell me, sir, while in Southampton did you have time to call on Inspector Hughes there?’
Pelham removed a pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and began to polish it methodically with a silk handkerchief, surely carried for that purpose.
‘I called to present my compliments,’ he said. ‘Since it is probable I shall meet Inspector Hughes again. He tells me the investigation has been handed fully over to you.’
I almost chuckled but managed to keep a straight face. Pelham had got nowhere with Hughes.
A knock at the door heralded Mrs Garvey with the tea tray. There was silence until she had left again.
‘My understanding,’ said Pelham, ‘is that your wife and another lady are staying in the area, for the sea air.’
‘Indeed they are.’
‘And that they dined with Sir Henry on the evening before the dreadful event.’
‘They did. They are both very shocked.’
Well, Mrs Parry was shocked. Lizzie was also, of course, but in addition I knew my wife’s busy brain would be assembling the details and looking for those little inconsistencies that often open the door to a solution.
‘Has Mrs Ross, or the other lady…’
‘Mrs Parry,’ I supplied as he paused. He probably already knew the lady’s name but he was playing his cards carefully.
‘Quite so. A family member, I understand?’
‘The late Mr Parry was my wife’s godfather.’
Pelham did a rapid mental calculation. ‘Then Mrs Parry must be considerably older than your wife.’
‘I have never presumed to ask the lady’s age,’ I said.
A flush appeared on Pelham’s pale cheeks.
I continued, ‘However, I should point out that she was the late Mr Parry’s second wife, and younger than him at the time of their marriage. She is, of course, a few years older than my wife.’
‘Ah.’ Pelham nodded as he slid that piece of information into place, as if it were a piece of a Chinese puzzle box. He had suppressed his show of irritation.
‘I wonder,’ he asked, pouring tea in his cup with studied concentration, ‘whether either lady noticed anything unusual during dinner that night?’
‘I have seen my wife since I arrived, but only to speak briefly. I have not yet had the opportunity to discuss the evening in detail with her, or with Mrs Parry. I hope to do so this evening. They are both important witnesses, whether they noticed anything amiss or whether they didn’t. If neither of them did, that might also be significant.’ I allowed myself a polite smile. ‘Sometimes the absence of information tells its own story. I dare say you have come across similar situations in your profession.’
Pelham fixed me with a sharp look, the first expression to enter those disconcerting pale orbs. ‘I would greatly appreciate being kept informed of your progress, Inspector.’
‘I will make sure to let you know anything I feel you should be aware of,’ I told him. Touché!
I stood up. ‘And now I must leave you to your tea, Mr Pelham. I have work to do.’
Pelham didn’t so far forget himself as to scowl. But he gave me a look of intense dislike. It was a mutual feeling.
I didn’t know where Pelham would be dining that night. If it were to be at the inn, it would be without my company. For my part, I was glad I hadn’t to fend off his questions for a whole evening. I requested that Firefly be saddled so that I could ride to The Old Excise House. ‘I shall be able to find my way,’ I told Mrs Garvey. ‘Please don’t trouble Wilfred.’
Nevertheless, when I went out to the stable, both Firefly and the other pony were saddled up, and Wilfred was waiting, clearly intending to escort me.
‘There is really no need, Wilfred,’ I told him, stifling my annoyance. ‘I made good note of the way there and back.’
‘Ah, now,’ said Wilfred with a sage nod of the head. ‘I dare say you did, sir, being the observant gentleman that you are. But that was in daylight. Returning back here late, by moonlight, you won’t recognise the heath. None of the landmarks you’re depending on will be visible or else they will look quite different. The moon plays tricks, sir! Why, it will be a whole different world out there.’
There was some truth in this, although I suspected that if I didn’t know the way, Firefly would take me back to his stable without my guidance. ‘I don’t want to inconvenience you, Wilfred,’ I said firmly.
‘Bless you, that’s no inconvenience, sir! Truth of the matter is, I’ve got family living in the village. So, while you’re dining with your ladies, I’ll ride on down to their cottage and pay my visits, and get my supper there. Then I’ll come back later, and ride back here with you.’ He treated me to his gap-toothed grin.
I knew I’d been outmanoeuvred, but there was nothing I could do without outright argument. With both Pelham and Wilfred to fend off, I was between the proverbial rock and a hard place. I therefore accepted with good grace and we set off. I concentrated my mind on the next task ahead of me, finding some way of detaching Lizzie from Mrs Parry for a while. I wanted to talk to her alone.
Mrs Parry, as it turned out, gave me less trouble than Wilfred. ‘I have been too quick to use the ankle again,’ she announced as I entered the parlour. ‘I shall have to rest it again for a day or two.’
‘I am very sorry to hear that, ma’am,’ I told her. ‘Perhaps we should fetch the doctor to attend to it.’
‘Oh, no!’ She waved away the suggestion. ‘Rest and a few more cold packs should do it.’
‘I had been hoping,’ I told her, ‘to take a walk on the shore here, before the light fades. But if you are unable…’
‘Oh, my dear man! You must take your walk. You have come principally to see Elizabeth, I am sure?’ She gave me a playful look. I thought I preferred Pelham’s disapproval. ‘Fill your lungs with sea air!’ ordered Mrs Parry, still smiling at me. ‘Then, when you come back, we can have dinner and a really good discussion of all this.’
Lizzie and I accordingly made our way down the steps to the beach below. As she took my arm, I asked, ‘Mrs Parry seems in very good humour for someone who has both twisted her ankle and finds herself in the midst of a murder inquiry. What exactly does she mean by “discussion”, I wonder.’
‘You should beware!’ replied my wife in a dramatic tone. ‘Aunt Parry has taken it into her head to play detective. She has been waiting impatiently to tell you her theory regarding Sir Henry’s death.’
I groaned. A witness who doesn’t want to talk is a nuisance. But so is one who imagines he or she can solve the crime ahead of the police. They can be very difficult to detach from a cherished theory.
‘I thought she disapproved of police work?’
‘That was before we visited Agnes Beresford this afternoon. Now she is ready to explain the whole thing to you.’
‘And name the killer?’ I asked. ‘Or is that too much to hope for?’
‘Well, no,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘She hasn’t quite managed that, yet. You see, she is convinced it is a housebreaker. That seems chiefly because there have been some burglaries in Dorset Square. It is not a petty thief, she insists. It is a skilled, professional thief. When you find him, it will be discovered that he is known to the police already.’
‘Ah, well,’ I said. ‘She may be right. I don’t think she is, myself. But as I haven’t arrested anyone else, who am I to reject Mrs Parry’s theory? My poor Lizzie, is she driving you right out of your mind?’
‘Not quite. That weak ankle is proving a blessing. She can’t go everywhere with me.’
‘And how did you find Mrs Beresford?’ I asked with real interest. ‘Is she coping well?’
Lizzie stopped and looked up at me with such a serious expression that I felt a pang of foreboding. ‘There is something I need to tell you about,’ she began, ‘only Agnes Beresford is anxious her husband should not know of it, because he has so much to worry him just now. Obviously, she is very lonely at Oakwood House. And did you know, Ben? Sir Henry is there. I mean his body in his coffin is in a little icehouse in the grounds. I am seriously displeased with Beresford.’
‘The undertaker in Lymington does not want to keep it on his premises,’ I replied promptly. ‘He claims it would be bad for his business. And the staff at the Hall are having a collective nervous breakdown, so it couldn’t be left there. Beresford has a disused icehouse. I suppose it seemed the only solution.’