Murder in the Afternoon: A Kate Shackleton Mystery

by Frances Brody

  ‘Yes but I’ll get it.’

  ‘You rest. Everyone who carries a lot of cares in their head should have one day a month in their nightdress.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll have the dictionary please. Miss Trimble’s last word was dandy, and I can’t imagine what she meant to say.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ Mrs Sugden said. ‘She was probably rambling. Rest your brain or you’ll be rambling yourself.’

  I glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. I would lie till ten-thirty, with my eyes shut, and see whether any amazing insights occurred.

  Mrs Sugden returned, dictionary in hand. She stood by the trug of kittens and read, ‘Dandy. Noun. A fop; coxcomb; something very neat and trim; a subsidiary attachment to a machine; a chamber in a pudding furnace; a Ganges boatman; a cloth hammock slung on a bamboo staff used in India like a palanquin; a sloop-rigged vessel with a jigger mast; a small sail carried at the stern of a small boat; a jigger: Dandy, adjective, pertaining to or characteristic of a dandy or fop. Dandy-brush, a whalebone brush; Dandy-note, a Custom’s permit for the removal of goods from a bonded warehouse.’ She shut the book. ‘Now are you any wiser, Mrs Shackleton?’

  ‘No.’ I wasn’t going to ask her to read the definition of palanquin.

  She sighed. ‘It’s unlikely, but if she felt herself to be ailing …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, there’s dandy fever isn’t there?’

  ‘You’re right. But is she likely to have caught dandy fever in Great Applewick, or during her visit to Clitheroe, and self-diagnosed her condition as she lay dying? I don’t think so.’

  The puzzle remained. I decided against staying in bed any longer. After my bath, I walked about the wood, hoping for inspiration. I was still there, admiring bluebells, when Marcus called my name.

  He strode towards me, arms open, ‘My wood nymph! Now I see you in your own habitat.’

  ‘Welcome to Batswing Wood.’

  ‘It’s lovely here.’

  We perched on the log that forms a bench. He looked around. ‘You even have a natural stage.’

  ‘Yes. The local children put on their plays here. All a little precocious, lots of academic and medical parents come to dote in the summer before they flee on their long holidays.’ He had not come to discuss the merits of Batswing Wood and my learned neighbours. ‘Will you have lunch, Marcus? I’m sure it’ll stretch.’

  ‘Perhaps a quick bite.’ He made a playful dart for my ear.

  ‘You have a driver with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ask him in. Mrs Sugden will look after him.’ I reached for his hand. ‘Let’s go inside.’

  He pulled me back. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about. I’m putting off what I have to tell you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The post mortem on Ethan Armstrong, it took place early this morning.’

  ‘Don’t tell me here, Marcus.’ I stood up. It was ridiculous and irrational, but I didn’t want the words spoken in my little wood. Not that the bluebells would hear, but the words might bounce from tree to tree forever. Whenever I came out here to think, or watch the squirrels, I would hear what he had to say. ‘Let’s walk up the road. It won’t take long and you can tell me there, away from my wood.’

  He did not argue. I called in at the kitchen door and asked Mrs Sugden would she put together something light, and ask the driver to come inside.

  We walked to the top of the road, past my neighbour’s big house where the gardener paused in his hedge trimming. The path led us into another wood, not my wood.

  ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘Ethan Armstrong was killed with a blunt instrument, his own hammer, by a blow to his skull.’

  ‘So it was someone tall.’

  It was Bob Conroy, Josiah Turnbull, one of Ledger’s men, anyone, but not Mary Jane.

  ‘Not necessarily. There are bruises around the kneecap, a cracked patella. The most likely explanation is that the assailant hit him there first so that he buckled at the knees, and then brought the hammer down on his head. He suffered a depressed skull fracture and bleeding to the brain.’

  ‘Do you have any leads?’

  ‘It’s early days, Kate. We know now how he died, and approximately when. I have to find out why, and who.’

  ‘When do you plan to tell Mary Jane?’

  ‘Let her take in the death first, and then the manner of it.’

  ‘She didn’t do it you know.’

  I should tell him about Bob Conroy, but if I did, that would implicate Mary Jane.

  He did not respond to my claim for Mary Jane’s innocence. ‘You have some papers that belonged to Mr Armstrong, trade union material and so on.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll take them with me please.’

  ‘Very well.’

  We walked back to the house. ‘I so much wanted to see you again, Kate, but not like this.’

  ‘I know.’

  He gave a rueful laugh. ‘I’m invited to lunch on Sunday with you and your parents. Your father telephoned this morning, under instructions from your mother I expect.’

  ‘That sounds right. Well, I know Dad will be glad to meet you, and Mother has spoken of you several times since your fleeting encounter in Harrogate.’

  ‘Where will we be by Sunday?’ he asked, and answered his own question. ‘I just don’t know. You’ll understand if I have to cry off at the last minute?’

  ‘Mother and I are used to that with Dad.’

  He paused at my gate. ‘There’s something else, Kate.’ I waited. ‘When I bring Mrs Armstrong back into the station, I might call on your services, to be there with her.’

  ‘Well, of course.’

  ‘To be there with her, to observe.’

  ‘Marcus, what are you getting at?’

  ‘I want you to know that everything will be fair, and done properly. Did you know I’ve had the Ledgers’ solicitor chap bending my ear?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s my fault. I thought they might want to help Mary Jane because she used to work for them. Now I wonder if they’d repay a closer look from you.’

  ‘Kate, you’re not suggesting that Ledger killed Ethan Armstrong?’

  ‘They recently bought Bob Conroy’s farm. The person who’d stood in the way of that for years was Ethan Armstrong. Ledger has problems at one of his coal mines. Ethan tried to call a strike.’

  ‘And Ledger defeated Armstrong at every turn. He wouldn’t need to resort to foul play. The colonel could have chewed up Armstrong and spat him out whenever he chose. Come on, Kate. Let’s have that bite of lunch.’

  I could have said more. I was tempted to tell him about the bank book, Ledger’s photographs of Mary Jane, the “dowry” from Mrs Ledger. But that would reflect badly on Mary Jane’s character and the outlook for her was bleak enough already. For now, I would keep that information to myself.

  I took Marcus to the dining room where Ethan Armstrong’s papers were piled at one end of the table. On top was the personal advertisement of a well provided woman looking for a well provided man. As casually as I could, I said, ‘I’m enquiring into this.’

  ‘You’ve written a letter?’

  ‘Composed a letter, yes.’ No need to bring Mr Duffield into it.

  He smiled indulgently. In that moment, I could have walloped him, and I am not given to violence as a rule.

  FRIDAY

  To inform – or, in official speech, “to approve” – seems as much in the nature of an Englishman as it is to kick a ball or to drink a glass of beer.

  Wilfred Macartney, Walls Have Mouths

  One

  At ten o’clock on Friday morning, I parked the Jowett on Courtyard Street, just a few yards from Otley police station. I walked into the station, carrying a bag of sandwiches for Mary Jane, and a flask. This could not have been what she had in mind when she turned up on my doorstep asking for help.

  The duty sergeant was expecting me. He bounced from behind his counter and escorte
d me upstairs.

  Minutes later, Marcus stood to greet me, in his borrowed office. The room was painted institutional green, with worn linoleum and a powerful smell of stale ash from the metal waste bin. Every story and account I had ever heard about imprisonment came into my head at once. I felt utterly inadequate. Marcus put on a cheerful look and asked about my journey, as he might ask a stranger. The exchange felt formal, anxious even. From his point of view I could see why Mary Jane might look guilty. Don’t acknowledge that even to yourself, Kate. Act as if she is innocent and she will be.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Kate. I know this must be difficult.’

  ‘What’s happening, Marcus?’

  ‘A solicitor, Mr Nelson, has been appointed by the Ledgers to act for Mrs Armstrong. He’ll be here at eleven and I shall interview her in his presence.’

  ‘Under caution, you mean?’

  He ignored my question. ‘There’s something you could do for me, and for her too. I don’t want to have to recruit yet another policeman’s wife.’

  ‘Where is Mary Jane? How long has she been here?’

  He hesitated. ‘We brought her at eight. She’s in an interview room. No one is giving her the third degree, Kate. Believe me, she will be treated with utmost courtesy and fairness. I’ve had Colonel Ledger on the phone this morning.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Between you and the colonel, she can be sure her interests are well protected.’

  ‘If she’s been here since eight, that means you’re leaving her to stew, in the hope that she’ll be so softened up.’

  ‘Now really, Kate, you know me better than that.’

  ‘Do I? Well go on, what is it you want me to do?’

  Whether his slight blush came from embarrassment or annoyance I could not tell. ‘I’d like you to be with her and watch her reaction when two other individuals are brought in for questioning.’

  ‘You want me to inform on her?’

  ‘You asked to see her, and I’m finding a way for that to happen. If you agree, I’ll take you to a room that overlooks the main entrance. From the window, you’ll see who comes and goes.’

  ‘Marcus, don’t play games with me. You think she killed her husband and had an accomplice who dragged the body across the quarry because she wasn’t strong enough. Someone who wanted rid of Ethan.’

  He did not meet my glance. ‘Let’s just see what happens, eh?’

  ‘And if I don’t agree?’

  ‘I shall bring in the duty sergeant’s wife.’

  ‘And I won’t get to see Mary Jane.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I’m trying to do my best, and be fair. I really and truly hope to eliminate her from enquiries.’

  ‘She’ll come through with flying colours because she’s innocent.’

  ‘I should like you to watch her reactions. Listen to what she says when she sees them.’

  ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘There will be two, brought in succession.’

  I looked at him steadily. He suspected Mary Jane. He doubted that she would have had the strength to drag Ethan’s body across the quarry unaided. From her performance swinging my suitcases up the stairs on Monday morning, I could have put him right on that.

  ‘If those are your terms for my seeing Mary Jane, I shall do it.’

  He came round the desk and stood beside me, bobbed down, and took my hand. ‘Kate, I would trust you to the ends of the earth.’ Then you are a fool, I thought. But of course, he was lying.

  ‘She’s on the first floor. I’ll take you to her. You can leave your bag here.’

  ‘I brought sandwiches for her, and a flask.’

  ‘I’ll see she gets them later.’

  ‘I can at least take in cigarettes?’

  He nodded.

  So this was what it was like to be on the wrong side of the law. I slipped cigarettes, matches and, surreptitiously, notebook and pencil into my pocket.

  She was sitting on a bench by the window in a small room that looked to have been partitioned off from a larger one. More institutional green – olive walls, khaki door and window frames. A small oak table, stained with teacup marks and the burnt-out cigarettes that had been placed on its edge dominated the centre of the room, along with three bentwood chairs. On the table stood a tin ashtray, a glass of water and a jug.

  I took out a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches.

  Mary Jane lit up and inhaled. ‘Can I keep these?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They think I did it.’

  ‘The truth will come out. I’m sure of it.’

  She gave a rueful little grin. ‘I’m not sure, not sure at all. The truth has a way of hiding under stones.’ She turned to the window and looked down into the street. ‘They had me in a room without a window earlier. It was horrible.’

  ‘Chief Inspector Charles is a fair man. He’ll keep an open mind, believe me.’

  And if I am not mistaken, he will even now be listening through this thin partition wall.

  ‘You would say that. They came for me before eight o’clock this morning. I’ve no idea what’s happening, apart from this solicitor who’s supposed to be coming. I can’t believe this. It’s like being in some horrible dream. They think I did it, just because of some dratted insurance policy that wasn’t even my idea. Ethan came home with that suggestion. I wouldn’t entertain it. Get them to ask the insurance man. He’ll tell them whose idea it was.’

  I didn’t know how to answer. If I said the solicitor would make sure everything like that came out, it would sound as if I thought she would be charged. In the silence where there should have been my reassurance, she said, ‘I don’t understand how the tools ended up in the coal shed. Kate, ask Harriet about it. She picked up Ethan’s cap. Did she pick up his tools as well? She might think she’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘Do you want me to go and see the children?’

  ‘Yes. I said they could see their grandma on Sunday and now I don’t know whether they’ll let me out of here before then.’

  ‘Do you want me to take them?’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Yes. They’ll be glad of that. I know Austin didn’t want to go to the farm.’

  ‘Poor Austin.’ She sighed. ‘What a mess. Sometimes don’t you just wonder how differently your life might have turned out? And then you find it’s too late.’

  Shut up, Mary Jane. Walls have ears. But I couldn’t say that, so I interrupted her. ‘Mrs Conroy gave the children each a pair of socks.’

  But she was no longer listening. Her attention was on something going on below.

  I looked out of the window.

  Turnbull, the quarry foreman, swaggered between two uniformed policemen. He threw out his chest, jutted his chin defiantly.

  Mary Jane stared. ‘They’re bringing in Turnbull! He never liked Ethan. Maybe they don’t think it’s me. They want Turnbull to get the wrong end of the stick, so that he’ll give himself away. He has a temper on him. You should see that poor wife of his, and I’ll tell you what, she doesn’t try to hide it any more. She walks around not caring who sees her black eyes. If he killed Ethan … I tell you what, Kate, I said to his wife once, I said to her, he has to sleep. If he were mine, I’d take a knife to him. If he were mine, he’d wake up dead.’

  Shut up, Mary Jane. Don’t say things like that in here.

  She took another drag on her cigarette. ‘I want to go home. If I’d known I was going to be pulled in here again, I’d have kept the children by me. Only I thought it would be better for them not to see me crying. When are they gonna let me go? This damn toff of a legal eagle we’re waiting for is probably off playing golf. Who is he anyway?’

  If Marcus were not listening, I would have admitted to her that I had been to see the Ledgers, and that Colonel Ledger had contacted his solicitor.

  The ash on her cigarette lengthened. I went to the table and picked up the battered ashtray. Too late, the ash fell from her cigarette as she once again stared through the window. ‘Hey!
Look at this. They’re fetching in Raymond Turnbull as well. Well, they can’t suspect Raymond. Do you think he’ll give evidence against his dad?’

  ‘Mary Jane, they’re probably just gathering information.’ But I allowed myself to hope. Only one constable escorted Raymond.

  Mary Jane stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Raymond’s getting married tomorrow. Me and Ethan were supposed to be at the wedding. He worships Ethan. If he knows anything, he’ll tell it. He will.’ Her voice fell to almost a whisper. ‘He’ll get our house. It always goes to a mason.’

  There came a muffled sound from the other side of the partition. Marcus had said he wanted Mary Jane’s reactions to two men who would be brought in. Well, now he had her reaction. No doubt in just a moment more I should be called away. I strained my ears for another noise from beyond the partition, or the corridor, but all was silence.

  Mary Jane couldn’t be still. She sat down. She stood up. She walked across the room. She went back to the window.

  ‘Oh look!’ Mary Jane’s joy transformed her face. ‘He’s come to tell them that it wasn’t me. I knew he’d stand by me.’

  I looked down. The man approaching the door below strode purposefully, unescorted. It was Bob Conroy.

  How long would this go on? Would we have to watch the entire male population of Great Applewick cross the threshold of Otley police station?

  She banged on the window, trying to attract Bob’s attention.

  The look of pleasure made her face young. At the sight of him, care fled, her cheeks flushed. He had not heard her, but she smiled. ‘You know who’ll stand by you in dark times.’

  It was the line of her high cheekbone, the curve of her eyebrow, the shape of her mouth.

  And I knew. It hit me like a punch in the gut.

  I took out my notebook and quickly scribbled, You need the lavatory now!

  She looked at the page, and was about to rephrase my words back as a question, when I shook my head. Her mouth fell open as she looked at the thin partition wall, and at the door. The penny dropped.

  ‘I need the lavatory, Kate. I can’t wait.’

  ‘I’ll get someone.’ I tried the door. It was locked. I rattled the knob, and urged her with my eyes to play her part.