“A more convenient time? Pshaw. It’s never convenient to talk about your husband’s hanky-panky or his grown-up love-child, is it?”
Araminta winced, but her aunt’s back remained ramrod straight. “You may not believe me, Chief Inspector, but those were my reasons.”
DCI Clegg started to say something, but the door to the hallway banged open, causing everyone to start. DS Kumar entered, dragging with him a red and sweaty Ollie Saunders, the gardener’s hands tied together in front with black plastic restraints.
“I didn’t do nothing!” Ollie bellowed as soon as he saw his audience. “This is police brutality. Get these bloody things off me!”
“Caught him trying to do a runner downstairs,” DS Kumar said, breathing heavily. “But he wasn’t moving too fast. Wouldn’t come quietly, so I had to use the Plasticuffs.”
Lord Winthrop reared to his feet and yelled at the gardener, “You scoundrel! How dare you attack my niece?”
“No, you got it all wrong. She attacked me.” Ollie shot a baleful glare at Araminta from beneath his damp, shaggy hair. “What’s she been saying about me, huh? She’s trying to stitch me up. I had nothing to do with it, I swear!”
“With what, exactly?” DCI Clegg asked, sounding tetchy.
“Joel’s murder, of course,” Araminta said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Ollie lost a ton of money because of Joel’s bad financial advice. Then, Joel fobbed him off with a silver mug which turned out to be stolen from here. Ollie was furious, and we all know he has a vile temper. He and Joel argued on the day of the tour. He—”
“Shut your filthy gob! I’m not the murderer!” Ollie roared, the chords in his neck standing out. “I’ll tell you who dunnit. It was her.” He spat the word out at Lady Winthrop. “I saw her in the library just before all the fuss started, running away from the scene of the crime, looking guilty as sin.”
Araminta was standing close enough to see the quiver that rippled through her aunt, stripping away her iron-like composure, leaving her sallow-faced.
“I...” Lady Winthrop gripped her pearl necklace.
“You see! She can’t deny it!” Ollie crowed.
“Be quiet, Saunders,” DCI Clegg barked. “Kumar, control him, for God’s sake.”
DS Kumar manhandled Ollie to the nearest armchair and pushed him into it.
DCI Clegg advanced on Lady Winthrop. “Mrs Winthrop? Were you in the library before the alarm went up? What were you running from?”
“I...” Lady Winthrop pressed her fingers to her temples. “I didn’t kill him.”
“Didn’t you? Even though you had every reason to. Joel told you about your husband’s affair. You must’ve been upset and angry. Not just with your husband, but with Joel, for telling you, for knocking your husband off his pedestal.”
“You’re wrong. It did nothing to change my opinion of my husband.”
“Hmm. You two stick together through thick and thin, is that it? Preserve the pretence at all costs. But Joel was threatening to tell everyone about the affair, about himself. What a scandal that would’ve been, eh? You couldn’t have ordinary people gossiping about it, tittering behind your back when you went to the shops. Oh no, that would never do. You’d do anything to stop that from happening, right?”
Lady Winthrop drew herself up. “Chief Inspector, if you’re implying that I killed Joel because of some wild notion of preserving our good name, then you’re quite simply wrong. Yes, I’d do anything to protect my husband from charlatans like Joel Taylor, but I did not murder him.”
DCI Clegg pulled at his lower lip. He wasn’t bouncing on his heels anymore. “But you were in the library. You were running from something.”
“Yes. I was...” Lady Winthrop glanced briefly at her husband before continuing, “I was running because I’d just come across Joel Taylor’s dead body lying at the foot of the stairs. I didn’t kill him; I merely discovered his corpse.”
“But you didn’t raise the alarm. That only happened later, when your niece stumbled across the body. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lady Winthrop began fiddling with her ring again. “Because I—well, I was too...I was in shock.”
Because she was afraid Uncle George had done it, Araminta realised with rising dismay.
“So, what did you do next?”
“I went upstairs—through the main stairs—and retired to my bedroom for a while, to calm down.”
“Did you disturb anything when you discovered the body? Tamper with any evidence?”
“No, absolutely not! I didn’t touch him at all. As soon as I saw he was beyond help, I left. That’s the truth.”
“Hard to believe you when you’ve been caught lying to us,” DCI Clegg said. “Moreover, not only did you make a false statement to us, you also coerced your secretary into giving you a false alibi.”
Lady Winthrop blinked. “Oh...you mean Isla?”
Like her aunt, Araminta turned and looked about for Isla. The secretary was perched on a footman’s chair near the door. She squirmed as everyone’s gaze focused on her.
“Well, Miss Mackenzie?” DCI Clegg beetled his eyebrows at her. “This is a serious matter, making a false statement to the police. What do you have to say for yourself, hmm?”
Isla hesitantly rose to her feet. “I—” she began before Lady Winthrop spoke over her.
“Oh, you mustn’t bother the poor child. Isla is so amenable she’d do anything I asked, and she knew nothing about Joel, absolutely nothing. I simply told her it would be easier all round if, when questioned, we both said we’d been together all afternoon. I didn’t see how it mattered if I’d seen the body before anyone else.”
“A man was killed; everything matters,” DCI Clegg retorted. He glowered at Lady Winthrop for some time, his bottom lip pushed out. Eventually he spoke. “This will go into my report, make no mistake. I won’t be turning a blind eye to this deception. And don’t go thinking you can call up the Chief Constable and wangle a favour or two just cos you’re chums with him.”
“Wait a minute!” Ollie Saunders surged to his feet. “You’re not taking her word for it, are you? This is a bleeding joke! She had good reason for wanting Joel dead. She should be the one in handcuffs, not me!”
“Sit down, Saunders!” DS Kumar clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“No, I bloody well won’t! I’m no fool. I can see how this is panning out. You’re going to let Lady Muck here off the hook and pin this on me, cos she’s a toff and I’m just an ordinary bloke with no connections. You’re trying to stitch me up, and I won’t have it, you hear me?” With that he wrenched himself free from DS Kumar’s grip.
“Come here!” DS Kumar yelled, quite pointlessly.
The others in the room leaped to their feet in alarm. Ollie stared about him, his eyes wild, and then charged towards the door, with DS Kumar in hot pursuit. Desperation seemed to lend wings to the normally lumbering gardener. He charged out of the drawing room and, just as Kumar lunged for him, slammed the door shut. The detective bounced off the solid wooden door and fell back, cursing as he cupped his dented nose.
“Bloody hell, Kumar!” DCI Clegg roared. “Stop mucking about and get after him!”
Muttering under his breath, DS Kumar wrenched the door open and flung himself after the absconding gardener. Araminta was already out of her seat and halfway to the door when the chief inspector’s voice brought her up short.
“And where do you think you’re going?” DCI Clegg barked.
“Paul might need some help,” she replied. “Ollie’s belligerent and out of control.”
“The man’s handcuffed; he can’t get very far.”
“He knows the layout of the house better than the sergeant,” Lady Winthrop said.
“It’s true.” Hetty nodded, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “He could slip out all sorts of ways.”
“All right.” DCI Clegg huffed. “I’ll go. The rest of you stay here and don’t interfere. Especially you.”
He aimed a special glare at Araminta before marching out of the drawing room.
15. Kerfuffle
ARAMINTA BREATHED OUT and pressed a hand to her side, feeling as if she’d run a marathon.
“Well, I never!” Hetty flapped her apron to fan her heated face. “What a kerfuffle. That Ollie Saunders is a right hooligan. Did you see how he got away, and with two coppers in the room? Only a guilty man would act so desperate, don’t you think?”
“He won’t get far,” Araminta said. “He’s only making things worse for himself. If he had any sense he’d give up now.”
“He doesn’t have much sense.”
“It appears not.” Araminta rubbed her forehead where a nasty headache was brewing.
“Are you sure he didn’t hurt you, Miss? You don’t look your usual self.”
“I’m fine. Oh, I just remembered. When I was downstairs, I ran into Cherise. She said she was looking for her purse. Thought she might’ve misplaced it in the kitchen.”
The housekeeper raised her eyebrows. “That lass would misplace her own head if it wasn’t screwed onto her neck.”
“I don’t know where she went,” Araminta said. “I hope she’s not still here, or she might bump into Ollie.”
“The police are around. They’ll hear her if she screams. Got a good set of lungs on her.” Hetty glanced over at Lord and Lady Winthrop, who hadn’t said a word so far. They gazed in opposite directions, each isolated in their silence.
“Er, your ladyship?” Hetty said tentatively. “Why don’t I bring you all a nice pot of tea, hot and strong, the way you like it?”
“Thank you, Hetty,” Lady Winthrop said, her voice stiff and distant. “A cup of tea would be most welcome.”
“Maybe I should go with you,” Araminta said. “Ollie might be lurking downstairs.”
Hetty snorted. “He’s a lumbering ox. I’d hear him a mile away. No, you have a rest, Miss. I can lock the kitchen door.”
“It’s still a risk,” Araminta said.
“Well, we all need tea, and I don’t see why that lummox should deprive us. Isla can come with me.” Hetty beckoned to the secretary who was hovering in the background. “She’ll keep a lookout for me.”
Isla nodded and fell into step behind Hetty as the housekeeper bustled out of the room.
Araminta glanced at her uncle’s rigid profile, then back at her aunt. “Would you and Uncle George like some privacy...?” she murmured, unsure how to proceed. After the revelations of the past few minutes, things could never be the same. Her aunt and uncle needed to talk together.
Lady Winthrop shook her head. She gingerly lowered herself to the sofa. “It’s safer for you here. Let’s sit and wait for the police to do their work.”
Araminta hesitated before taking a leather tub chair a short distance away, still reluctant to intrude on her aunt and uncle. Lord Winthrop hadn’t moved or spoken for several minutes; he appeared almost catatonic.
“George,” her aunt murmured. “Please, sit down.”
He hunched his shoulders as if startled, then, moving stiffly and slowly, he sank onto the sofa next to his wife, who seemed understandably surprised; Araminta had never seen her uncle sit anywhere except in his usual armchair. He crossed his legs, first one way, then the other, and shifted from side to side, visibly ill at ease.
“Damned fool, damned fool that I am,” he muttered, tugging at his shirt, his jacket lapels, his trouser knees, then back to his shirt.
“Perhaps,” Lady Winthrop murmured. “But human, too, as we all are.”
He gazed earnestly at her. “Edwina, I betrayed you, and at your greatest time of need. I am...so ashamed.”
Lady Winthrop bit her lip. “As I recall, I wasn’t there for you, either. You were so very cut up about Robert.”
“No, no, don’t let me off that lightly. I won’t have it.”
“Let you off lightly? I think you’ve been punishing yourself more than sufficiently all these years.”
Lord Winthrop pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Salvation was never found at the bottom of a whisky bottle either,” Lady Winthrop continued.
He made a strangled sound. “Wasn’t salvation I was looking for.”
His wife grew stern. “George Alfred Winthrop, I will not have you wallowing in your sins.”
“What do you want me to do, then?”
“Make peace with yourself,” She drew in a breath, and as she continued, her voice grew less steady. “God knows, we can’t change the past, however much we try. The only thing we have control over is how we act now, and...well, I want you to know that I spoke the truth to the chief inspector. My opinion of you hasn’t changed, not one bit.”
Slowly Lord Winthrop’s face turned pink. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Oh, it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t, and I warn you that we have a long road ahead of us.”
Lord Winthrop swallowed, his face flushed and contorted. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gazed at his wife, a glimmer of tears in his eyes. He reached out and laid a trembling hand on her arm. “Don’t deserve you, old girl,” he mumbled.
“You’re not going to get maudlin, are you?” Lady Winthrop’s tone was brisk, but she had placed her hand over her husband’s.
“It’s true. You could’ve had anyone. Elkington was mad for you, and he’s worth a fortune. Or Baillieu, that actor fellow, or that scientist chap who’s won all those awards.”
“Pish-posh. Stop trying to get rid of me, George. I chose you. You’re stuck with me now.”
He squeezed her hand. “And very glad to hear it.” He made as if to put his arm around her, but paused, his gaze flickering towards Araminta.
Araminta cleared her throat. “As I said, I’m sure you’d like some privacy, so—”
“Oh, do stay, my dear,” Lady Winthrop insisted. “We’ll try not to embarrass you anymore, although I shudder to think what your opinion of us is now, after all these salacious revelations.”
Lord Winthrop coughed. “Well, actually, I confessed my...my villainy to Araminta only this morning.”
“I see.” Lady Winthrop looked from her husband to her niece. “Well, then, we needn’t go over it again.” She let go of her husband’s hand but remained seated close to him.
They sat in silence. Araminta fidgeted, too anxious to relax. Where were the police? They’d been gone a while; perhaps Ollie was leading them on a merry dance somewhere. And Cherise. Was she still here or—
The door opened, and Hetty appeared, wheeling in a trolley laden with tea things and plates of food.
“Ah, tea!” Lord Winthrop exclaimed as if the angel Gabriel had appeared. “Just the ticket.”
“Thank you, Hetty,” Lady Winthrop said warmly. “How splendid of you.”
“Well, it’s not my best.” Hetty beamed at the unusual attention she was receiving. “Just a few of my scones from the freezer, heated up in the microwave. My homemade jam, of course. And a big, strong pot of tea.” She brought the trolley to a halt in the middle of the room next to a low, octagonal table.
“You must stay and have some yourself,” Lady Winthrop said.
Hetty started. “Stay? Have tea with...”
“With us, yes. The police haven’t caught Ollie yet, so it’s best we stay together.”
“Well, I never!” The housekeeper looked both pleased and uncertain. “I was going to make another pot, but if you’re sure...”
“Yes, do join us,” Araminta said. “Isla is here, too, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, Isla,” Lady Winthrop said. “Where is she?”
“I’m here, your ladyship,” the secretary murmured as she came into view.
“There you are!” Lady Winthrop’s expression softened as her secretary drew closer. “Isla, my dear, I must apologise to you.”
“Whatever for, ma’am?”
“Why, for making you a party to my lies to the police. I should never have involved you. Th
at was reprehensible of me.”
Isla lifted her shoulders. “I was glad to help you.”
“I know you were. You’re so loyal. But I’ve gotten you into trouble, and I want you to know I’ll do everything in my power to get you out of it.”
“Yes.” Lord Winthrop nodded. “We aren’t chums with the Chief Constable as DCI Clegg seems to think, but I know a few people. I’ll have a word with them. We’ll see to it, Isla, not to worry.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“And Isla...” Lady Winthrop cleared her throat. “About the, er, particulars regarding Joel Taylor, I can count on you to be discreet, can’t I?”
Isla’s cheeks turned a shade of pale pink at the mention of Lord Winthrop’s indiscretions. “Certainly, your ladyship,” she replied, primly doing up the buttons of her beige cardigan.
“Very good. Hetty, will you pour tea for everyone? Come, Isla.” Lady Winthrop waved her secretary towards the laden trolley. “Do help yourself. And don’t skimp. You need some nourishment, my dear girl.”
“Thank you, but may I be excused for a moment? I need to, er...wash my hands.”
“Of course,” Lady Winthrop replied. “But do be quick. The gardener’s still on the loose, remember.”
The secretary left the drawing room. Lady Winthrop passed tea and scones to her husband, while Araminta slathered a warm scone with jam. Only when everyone else was seated did Hetty fill her own plate. Choosing one of the small, uncomfortable chairs, she sat with a tentative but pleased air.
“I’ve never had my tea in here before,” she murmured, juggling her cup and plate. “Feels very odd.”
Araminta pushed a small occasional table towards the housekeeper. “It’s been a very odd day all round.”
“My word, hasn’t it just!” Hetty took a sip from her cup before carefully placing it and her plate on the table. “Don’t know what to make of anything. My mind is all topsy-turvy.”
“Mine, too,” Araminta said as she bit into her scone. Topsy-turvy, yes, that was exactly how she felt. So much had happened in such a short space of time that she needed a good bit of time to mull over everything and make sense of it.
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