The Case of the Dotty Dowager

by Cathy Ace

  ‘It sounds like a very peculiar way to live to me,’ dared Mavis.

  Althea Twyst sipped her tea. ‘You’re right, of course. Over the decades, I’ve come to accept it as normal. Though it’s very different from my own background.’

  ‘And what was that?’ asked Mavis between mouthfuls of cake.

  Placing her cup and saucer on the trolley Althea sat very upright and said, ‘I was the second wife of Harold, the seventeenth duke. His first wife died giving birth to my son Henry’s older brother, Devereaux. Very sad. I have been told she was a bright and lively woman, though she never enjoyed the best of health. After a year or so of mourning her, the seventeenth duke took it upon himself to seek out a new wife. One who could provide him with another son; a “spare”. He found me in the chorus of a musical revue at the Strand Theatre called For Adults Only.’

  Watched by Althea as she sipped her tea, Mavis was pretty sure that the dowager was waiting for a look of surprise. She suspected that Althea enjoyed playing the ‘shock angle’, but she had decided to remain unblinking

  ‘It wasn’t as risqué as its title implies,’ added Althea after a couple of seconds, ‘and the cast was stuffed with people who were quite well known at the time, and went on to become household names. Wonderful times, though my professional career lasted exactly two weeks. The night that Chelly – that’s what I called him, which was frowned upon in certain circles – visited the theater I fell and broke my ankle. And that was that. Or so I thought. I didn’t know that the man with the kind eyes who offered to wait with me until the ambulance arrived to take me to the hospital was a duke. He visited me, with flowers. Even made sure to call on me at my tiny little bedsit in Finsbury Park. He was a treasure. I fell for him before I found out who he was. I tried to say no to him, but we made a go of it. Something of a scandal at the time. But we had many good years together and, of course, Henry and Clementine – Clemmie – came along.’

  Mavis nodded. ‘Where in Finsbury Park?’

  Althea smiled. ‘Given what I’ve just told you, that does seem to be an extraordinary question. Queens Drive. Why?’

  ‘I’m on Wilberforce Road, just a street away,’ replied Mavis with a smile.

  ‘Good heavens.’ Althea picked up her cup and raised it toward Mavis. ‘Neighbors.’

  Mavis mirrored Althea’s actions. ‘In a manner of speaking.’ She grinned.

  As she sipped her tea, Mavis MacDonald was quite certain that Althea Twyst, Dowager Duchess of Chellingworth, ex-revue chorus girl, breeder of dogs, rider of horses and finder of dead bodies, was certainly not losing her faculties. Which made the case of the bloodied bobble hat even more puzzling.

  ‘So what happened to Henry’s older brother?’ asked Mavis bluntly.

  Shaking her head sadly, the aged duchess answered quietly. ‘Measles, when he was in his forties. It took all of us by surprise. It seems that, in the depth of mourning his first wife’s loss, Henry didn’t attend to his son’s immunization. Devereaux traveled a great deal, and he must have picked up the disease on the last trip he took, to Indiana in America. None of us thought anything of it, but it seems they had an outbreak of measles while he was there. When he returned to Chellingworth Hall he fell ill. We all thought he had the flu. By the time the doctors realized what was happening, it was too late. He died of complications as a result of pneumonia.’

  ‘That’s a very unusual thing to happen, you know,’ commented Mavis. Reacting to Althea’s quizzical expression, Mavis added, ‘Nurse. Thirty years.’

  Althea nodded. ‘Ah.’

  Mavis continued, ‘It’s a disease that used to kill so many children, but the immunization program has all but wiped it out. Here, I mean. Not everywhere, of course. Very sad. So your wee Henry was never supposed to take the title then?’

  Althea smiled ruefully. ‘Henry? No. Devereaux was a strapping man. Full of vim and vigor, as you might say. He seemed to be constantly in motion. Always getting something done. His father groomed him for his role, and he would have been a dynamic duke.’

  Althea and Mavis shared a grin at the phrase.

  ‘How long ago did he die?’ asked Mavis.

  ‘About twelve years ago. Just short of two years before his father passed. So poor Henry only had a little time to get used to the idea that he’d be taking over the family business, which was how his father always referred to the dukedom.’

  ‘And how’s he doing?’ ventured Mavis.

  Settling herself in her seat, Althea thought about her answer for a moment. ‘Not as badly as I’d feared, but not as well as I’d hoped. He’s not a businessman, and that’s what our type need in a family these days.’

  ‘Our type?’ said Mavis with a cheeky cock of the head.

  Althea grinned and winked. ‘Touché my dear, touché. I might not have been born to it, but after almost sixty years of being a duchess, I believe I am, now, pretty well embedded in the upper echelons. Henry wanted to be an artist. Indeed, he spent his life wandering Europe seeking inspiration, and producing his watercolors very nicely. But his father called him away from that life, to this. Of course I love him, and it was simply awful for me to see the light of happiness die in his eyes, to be replaced by an expression of constant anxiety. I tried to help. Still do. His sister is no use to him at all. And then there’s the question of inheritance. He’s really getting to be of an age where there might be no one who will have him.’ Althea paused, and Mavis realized that the duchess had been speaking to her as one woman to another, not as a client to an investigator.

  ‘I understand,’ said Mavis simply, hooking her hair behind her ears.

  ‘Yes, I think you do,’ replied the aged woman.

  ‘So, now that we’ve established some trust,’ said Mavis quietly, ‘tell me exactly what happened on the night in question.’

  The women exchanged a guarded glance.

  ‘Very well,’ said Althea. ‘From my point of view, it began when McFli began to bark. He doesn’t usually do that at night. He’s a very well trained animal, even if I do say so myself.’

  McFli cocked his head at the sound of his name, and looked at each of the women in turn, seeming to know that he was being spoken about.

  ‘He does seem to be a very well behaved wee creature,’ said Mavis, smiling down at the dog, who wagged his diminutive tail.

  ‘I knew something was wrong immediately I awoke.’ Althea smiled. ‘It’s not that I have any extra senses, but I do trust my instincts. I pulled on my robe and made my way to my door. Upon opening it I heard a sound downstairs. McFli raced off ahead of me. I had to make a decision; should I wake a member of my household, or should I investigate myself. I’m sure that Henry thinks I’m a stupid old woman, but I am well aware that my home is fitted with a very expensive alarm system, and it was not sounding, so I just assumed …’ Althea Twyst paused and gave her next words some thought. ‘I think I assumed that one of the other people who lives here was moving about, though I do not recall formulating a reason for anyone to be doing that. I turned on the lights before descending the stairs – I saw no reason not to – and when I walked into the dining room I saw the body.’

  ‘Now let me stop you there for a moment, Althea,’ interrupted Mavis. ‘Were the lights in the dining room on or off?’

  ‘Off. I turned them on.’

  ‘And was the door to the dining room open or closed?’

  ‘Closed. I had to open it.’

  ‘Then what was it that made you go to the dining room first? Or did you go to another room first, then the dining room?’

  ‘I went directly to the dining room,’ replied Althea with certainty. ‘You’re right. Why did I do that?’

  Mavis waited in silence.

  ‘The smell,’ said Althea with a look of discovery on her face. ‘Good heavens, I hadn’t thought of that. It was the smell. Coming from the direction of the dining room.’

  ‘And what smell was that?’ asked Mavis, fascinated.

  Again Althea paused. Her
expression told Mavis she was grasping at threads of her memory. She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t a smell that resembled anything except that I seemed to know that something was hot. Nothing specific. Not plastic, or rubber, or coal or … no, it was definitely something hot. That’s all I can say. Not like ironing, but sort of similar. You know the way that the odor of hot clothes hangs in the air after you’ve ironed something?’ Althea’s eyes appealed to Mavis.

  ‘Indeed, I do,’ replied Mavis, ‘though I’d not have thought it an occupation with which you’d be overly familiar,’ she added, smiling a little.

  ‘Childhood smells, my dear,’ winked Althea. ‘Never forgotten. Though, you’re correct, it’s been many a year since I stood behind an ironing board. But it was that sort of a smell. Not something one would expect. Hot.’

  ‘Very odd,’ noted Mavis. ‘Did you have any fires lit in the house that evening?’

  Althea Twyst shook her head. ‘It was cool enough for me to need to pull a shawl around my shoulders, but not so cold that we needed to light the fires, or even turn on the central heating for the radiators.’

  ‘So you entered the dining room, turned on the light and – what exactly?’

  ‘When I take you to the room you’ll see that, standing at the door, one can see the fireplace. It is to the right of the dining table. In front of it is a particularly fine rug. Upon that rug lay a body.’

  ‘Now be thoughtful about your words, Althea. I know you’ve spoken of this to the police, and that it was several days ago, but think about it as though it’s happening right now. Close your eyes for a wee moment. Think back to how you felt. Were you warm, or cold? How was McFli acting? Other than the smell of something hot, did you smell, or sense, anything else? You know it’s important, so take your time.’

  Althea Twyst squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the edge of her chair with both hands. McFli whimpered and nuzzled into his mistress’s leg.

  ‘He was scratching at the door when I got to the bottom of the stairs,’ said Althea. ‘That’s why I went to the dining room. It wasn’t just a funny smell. McFli was at that door.’

  ‘Good. Go on. Use all of those lovely senses you have.’

  ‘It’s chilly. Colder in the entry hall than in my room.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘McFli knows he’s not to scratch at doors, so I reprimand him. Then I open the door, smell the smell, and turn on the lights. So the smell wasn’t in the hallway after all. Oh, I say, this is very useful. Now, what do I see? Ah, yes, Jennifer hasn’t put the chairs back beneath the table correctly after dinner. I must mention that to her. Then I see the body. I don’t know what it is to begin with, but it only takes two steps for me to see that it’s a person. McFli is sniffing at it. He’s running around the head part, then the feet. The body has very large feet. The soles of his shoes are facing me. No … they aren’t shoes. They are little booties. Red, with a thick white edge on the sole. Everything else is black.’

  ‘Do you know what sort of clothes he’s wearing?’

  ‘Yes. The policeman asked me that, too. Black trousers, but like jeans. Tight. A black hooded thing, with the hood over the back of his head. But I can see blood. His face is looking at me. His mouth is open. I can see blood on the side of his forehead. His eyes are open. When I see that, I know he is dead. Yes, I know it, and it frightens me. I call McFli. I can’t see him. He runs from behind me and knocks into me. I walk toward the young man. Mavis, he’s very young. He cannot be more than twenty, or so. Not white. Not black. Brown. Clean shaven. A few darker spots on his cheek. And blood.’ Althea opened her eyes and looked directly at Mavis. ‘He wasn’t breathing. I am sure of that.’

  ‘How close did you get to him?’

  ‘I walked right up to him. I was standing on the rug looking down at him. That’s when I saw the bobble hat. It was lying between him and the fireplace. I walked around his feet, bent down to pick it up, then I picked up the poker as well. I remember I thought that whoever had done this might still be in the house.’

  ‘Good. Now, tell me, why didn’t you call your staff at that time?’

  Althea looked confused. Her eyes darted to McFli, then back to Mavis. ‘I don’t know. I felt alone. Scared. I left the dining room and picked up the telephone handset from the entry hall, returned to my room with it, shut the door, and I telephoned Henry. He told me to go back to my room, which didn’t make sense, because I was already there. So I sat on the bed and held McFli, and the poker, very tight.’

  Mavis studied Althea Twyst very carefully. Even the recounting of her experience had rattled the woman.

  ‘It doesn’t make sense, does it?’ asked Althea, shaking her head. ‘Maybe Henry has a point after all. Any sane person would have called for help. All I had to do was scream and I’d have wakened the entire household. Or at least I might have telephoned the police. But I phoned Henry instead. What on earth did I think he could achieve?’ Althea Twyst shook her head. ‘I didn’t act at all logically. Maybe I am losing my marbles.’

  ‘I think you’d had a tremendous shock, and didn’t quite know what you were doing, my dear,’ replied Mavis calmly. She paused for a moment, then continued, ‘Did you hear anything else? Did McFli bark again at all?’

  ‘No, he was very well behaved. He didn’t even bark when Henry was approaching. I could hear him crunching along the driveway. Then McFli began to squirm, I turned on my bedside lamp, and shortly afterwards Henry knocked at my bedroom door. We discovered that the body had gone. But I still had the hat.’

  Mavis nodded. ‘I assume the police kept the hat?’

  ‘Yes. But I took photographs.’

  ‘You did?’ Mavis sounded as surprised as she was.

  ‘I thought that if the hat disappeared somehow, no one would believe anything I said. So I took photographs of it as soon as I got back to my bedroom. Oh! I forgot that bit, but, there, I’ve told you now. I have a little digital camera that I use to take photos of the birds I see, and the garden I have just begun to grow. It’s amazing to see things poke through the earth that way. I’m sorry I always dismissed gardening. I’ve left it very late to experience the joy it brings.’

  ‘May I see the photos?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. Now, would you be so kind as to take me to the dining room, then I’d like to see the alarm. And I would also like to take a thorough look around the entire Dower House, upstairs and down, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all,’ replied the dowager quietly. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ She sounded worried.

  Mavis nodded. ‘I believe that you believe it, Althea. Now I have to help the WISE Enquiries Agency try to find out if something really happened and, if it did, what it was.’

  Althea’s ‘Thank you,’ was almost a whisper.

  Mavis allowed herself to enjoy her final mouthful of cake, but knew that, very soon, she’d be seeking a way to examine the security systems in the Dower House, under the guise of being a very nervous guest who wanted to know exactly how safe she’d be in her bed at night. She decided that Ian Cottesloe would be her next target. Surly he might be, but she felt if she could get him alone, and not behind the wheel of a car, he might open up to a little old Scottish lady who was worried about her safety. Before Althea summoned the factotum, Mavis sent a text to Carol, outlining areas suitable for further enquiries, then looked forward to enjoying the company of a strapping young man. It was a poor substitute for spending time with one of her two sons, but she always felt more connected to them when she chatted with men of roughly their age.

  NINE

  Annie Parker slipped on the bottom step of the bus as she was getting off and almost twisted her ankle. Luckily for her, the man who’d alighted just ahead of her was large and slow-moving, so, instead of falling flat on her face, she toppled forward onto him, and he, in turn, lurched into other folks who had foolishly assumed that a bus stop was unlikely to be somewhere where they’d suffer a bodily injury.

&n
bsp; Thus, Annie’s arrival in Anwen-by-Wye was greeted by a chorus of ‘Oi! What do you think you’re doing?’, and even one or two guttural Welsh phrases which she suspected might be quite insulting. She thanked everyone, then apologized to everyone, grabbed up her bags and took in her surroundings. A wide expanse of grass that looked as though it could easily serve as a full-sized football pitch was surrounded on all four sides by detached houses that seemed to have been built at various times throughout the past five hundred years. Annie quickly spotted that three pubs and a large church anchored the four corners of the square. There were only three thatched cottages, which disappointed Annie. She’d hoped for more. Only two aspects of country life appealed to Annie: chocolate-box cottages and indulgent, lengthy pub lunches.

  Annie disliked the countryside, in general terms. She was convinced that her DNA was a mixture of asphalt, exhaust fumes, shredded bus tickets, Cabernet Sauvignon, nicotine, sauces made almost entirely of capsicum, butter, jerk spices and bacon fat. She regularly drew acid comments from Carol, who claimed she only had to smell the vinegar wafting from a bag of chips to put on weight, because Annie Parker really could eat anything she wanted without so much as gaining an ounce. She got a bit bloated after too many pints of beer – about six – but that was it. Her beloved Eustelle had told her, when she was a very small girl, that the addition of hot sauce to any item of food meant that the body ate up the calories it contained. Annie had never had reason to doubt her mother’s wisdom, and always carried a bottle about her person, in case there wasn’t any on offer.

  Just like Eustelle, Annie was about five ten, weighed around 120 pounds, and couldn’t do anything about it. Eustelle’s theory was that they both had bones like birds – light and brittle – and metabolisms that ran at full pelt because of the hot sauce. It was true that Annie had broken at least half a dozen bones in her lifetime, but she reckoned that wasn’t so bad, considering she had hundreds of them. Besides, her body was so angular that she kept knocking into things, so a few bruises and chipped bones were to be expected. And as for a body that could burn anything off? She reckoned that was why she was always so sweaty.