Seven Steps to Murder

by Benjamin Ford

  “You mean Major Simmons knows what happened to Albert that night? Did Simmons kill him?”

  Rashid shakes his head. “Julian could no more kill a man in cold blood than he could kill an enemy soldier! He might have been our Captain, but he was a coward. And he talks in his sleep.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

  “I overheard him muttering in his sleep on the boat back to England after the war. If you want to know what happened to Albert Waterfield, then you should speak with Julian. Only, please, you must not tell him what I just told you.”

  I make a cross over my heart. “You have my word!”

  “So, Wilbur, tell me: why are you so interested in Albert’s death?”

  I smile. “Just call it curiosity!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Walking around the grounds, with our hands thrust deep into pockets and collars turned up, we are quite comfortable – until I steer Rashid back towards the house and we walk into the biting wind. It’s only as Rashid and I re-enter the house that we realise just how cold it is outside, and the glowing warmth within is most agreeable.

  Mrs Draper has reappeared and greets us in the hall in a pompous manner. I begin to wonder whether she’s actually a guest or whether she has reasserted herself as housekeeper to Cuthbert Waterfield.

  “There you both are. We were about to send out a search party. Mr Waterfield was concerned for your safety. Perhaps you should let him know next time you’re going outside.”

  Rashid and I exchange glances, and both of us roll our eyes at the same time. Luckily, Mrs Draper has already turned and is walking ahead of us back into the drawing room.

  “I have located them both, Mr Waterfield,” she calls.

  “Thank you, Mrs Draper,” says Waterfield, coming out to meet us. “Where did you go?”

  I frown. “We were only outside. We wanted some fresh air, so we went for a walk. Why? Has something happened?”

  “My brother has been taken ill. Dr Runcible took him up to his room, and then we realised the pair of you were missing, so we started to worry that something had happened to you.”

  “Is Herbert all right?” Rashid asks in a worried tone.

  “What happened?” I add, my face displaying consternation.

  “Dr Runcible thinks he might have eaten something that disagreed with him. It turns out he has allergies that he neglected to tell us about. Mrs Draper made some shrimp paste sandwiches, and shellfish is one of his allergies.”

  I sigh. “Did you not know this? He is your brother, after all.”

  Waterfield shakes his head. “I haven’t seen him in years, and we had so little to do with one another for a very long time before that, how was I supposed to know all about his health? He really should have told us!”

  “Yes, he should,” I say, deep in thought. “I have a nut allergy. I do hope Mrs Draper isn’t preparing anything with nuts.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention this either?”

  “No. I’ve never had to give it much thought before as I seldom eat out, and I even more rarely eat at friends’ houses. I usually prepare my own meals. Maybe your brother had the same lapse of judgment.”

  “Well maybe I should ask everyone else if they have any allergies,” says Mrs Draper from the doorway. It’s plain to see from her face that she’s unimpressed to be the apparent cause of Herbert’s sudden illness.

  Dr Runcible joins us, having puffed his way down the stairs. “Fellow’s in a bad way up there,” he says, mopping his brow, “but I think he’ll be all right by morning. Someone should sit with him, just to make sure he doesn’t take a turn for the worse.”

  “I’ll do that,” says Waterfield charitably. “He’s my brother after all.”

  No-one argues with him, and so he crosses the hallway and climbs the stairs. He turns near the top. “Perhaps Mrs Draper is correct, and you should all tell her if you’re likely to be made ill by any foods in particular. I wouldn’t want anyone else falling ill – or worse!”

  “What can he mean by that?” says Mrs Draper as he disappears from view.

  I lean in close. “I believe he means that he doesn’t wish anyone to be poisoned so badly that they die under his roof.”

  “Well, quite! I should think one death is bad enough.” Mrs Draper marches into the drawing room and claps her hands. “In case you didn’t hear that, Major Simmons, Mr Waterfield has asked that I make certain no-one else has any food allergies. Is there anything you cannot eat without becoming ill?”

  “Anything healthy!” The Major chortles at his own witticism, but Mrs Draper is unimpressed.

  “Really, Major Simmons, with poor Herbert taken ill due to his own foolishness, I hardly think that humour is healthy. I take it then that there’s nothing serious that you’re allergic to?”

  The Major shakes his head sullenly and without a snappy retort.

  Mrs Draper smiles serenely. I can tell she’s enjoying her moment of power, and she’s not going to let the moment pass by quickly. She’ll milk it for all she’s worth and certainly won’t slink back into silence. “So then: young Wilbur here cannot eat anything made with nuts. What about you, Dr Runcible?”

  The doctor purses his lips for a moment, and then shakes his head. “I cannot think of anything that has made me ill by any means other than excess.”

  “You are a glutton then,” sighs Mrs Draper. “Well, there will be no gluttony whilst I’m here to supervise the meals. What about you, M. Rashid?”

  “I have no adverse effects to any foods, but there are a number of things I do not like.”

  “That would make you a picky eater. Well, I’m not about to pander to your whims when it comes to food, M. Rashid. You’ll eat what I prepare, or you’ll eat nothing.”

  I lean close to Rashid and whisper: “Just like being back at boarding school!”

  He laughs, but falls silent when Mrs Draper turns to glare at him. She has the unnerving knack of making grown men feel like schoolboys, and it is indeed like being back at school.

  “Now that I know not to prepare anything with nuts for Wilbur, and shellfish for Herbert, I shall be more prudent with my cooking this evening.”

  “What about lunch?” I ask. My stomach tells me it’s time to eat, and all this talk of food has made me even hungrier.

  Mrs Draper points to the dining room. “There’s a platter filled with sandwiches still in there. You may help yourself. Just remember that the sandwiches have to feed everyone.”

  I shake my head slightly as she heads in the direction of the kitchen, just as Major Simmons comes towards me, glass in hand.

  “She’s got a bit high and mighty all of a sudden,” I say to him as we walk together into the dining room.

  “Hardly all of a sudden,” he says irritably. “She always was an old witch. I first met her before I joined the army. Too pompous and self-important for her own good, even back then.”

  I am intrigued. “How did you meet her?”

  Major Simmons snorts, which creates a most disgusting noise in his nose and throat. “I first met the old witch when she was a parlour maid at Ravenscroft House down in Devonshire. I was a lowly stable lad back then, but no more lowly than her. She thought she was better than the rest of the household staff right from her first day there. Behaved like the bloody Queen of Sheba. Mrs Dandridge the housekeeper at Ravenscroft soon put her in her place, mind. But that didn’t last long. The great influenza epidemic took care of Mrs Dandridge and half the staff, along with Lady Wilmslow and her new-born son.”

  “How dreadful,” I say. I’ve heard about that dreadful epidemic that wiped out whole generations of some families. What a pity it didn’t kill those who actually deserved to die. “So, did she then become the housekeeper at Ravenscroft?”

  “Not right away, but she worked her way up to it, lying to Lord Wilmslow to get the post eventually. Some say she did more than just lie to him, if you catch my drift!”

  “Oh!” I am quite shock
ed by such an open accusation. “Was there any proof of such a liaison?”

  The Major shakes his head with a sly smile. “Oh no, they were far too clever for that. Mind you, I’d left the household to join the army by that point, so I only had hearsay to go on. And that hearsay also revealed that she left Lord Wilmslow’s employ not long after she became housekeeper.”

  “You stayed in touch with some of the others in the household?”

  “Only one,” sighs the Major, closing his eyes. He seems to be remembering happier times as he has a serene smile upon his face, which becomes tinged with great sadness. “My life was very different back then, but it paved the way for the man I became. Mrs Draper was no different then than she is now.”

  “If she was so horrid, how did she nab herself a husband?”

  “Oh she didn’t. She’s not married.”

  I frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “The title Mrs is bestowed upon a housekeeper whether she’s married or not, much like a head cook. They are honorific titles. Mrs Draper was plain Miss Anna Draper when she came to Ravenscroft, but changed it to Mrs Annabel Draper when she became housekeeper. Like I said, full of airs and graces, even back then.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “There was a scandal. She became pregnant – and rumour is that Lord Wilmslow was the father.”

  As the Major and I select our sandwiches – which have started to go a little stale – I nudge his shoulder and whisper in his ear: “Who was the lucky chap you kept in touch with from Ravenscroft?”

  Major Simmons turns to face me. For a moment his face is inscrutable, but then he breaks into a slight sweat. “What makes you think it was a young man I kept in touch with?”

  I can tell he’s uncomfortable with my obvious knowledge of his predilection for men, and in spite of my own unease, I touch his arm. “It’s quite obvious a man such as yourself wouldn’t keep in touch with any of the female members of staff. If you had, then you’d have married her. But I think we both know you’re not the marrying type, don’t we? It must have been even more difficult for you, back then.”

  Major Simmons relaxes slightly. “It’s always difficult. One never knows whether the man one has made an overture to will turn around and pound one to a pulp. I have made that mistake only once. I choose to be celibate nowadays. It’s a lonely life, but much safer. I take it Rashid has spoken out about our – dalliance?”

  I nod solemnly. “Was he the one?”

  “Good Lord no. I doubt he was alive back when I was a stable boy!”

  “No, I mean the one mistake you made?”

  A wistful look crosses the Major’s face as he glances through the open doors of the dining room to where Rashid sits in the drawing room, cutting a lonely figure away from the others. “No. My beautiful Arab boy was not a mistake, but ours was a love that couldn’t last.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  Simmons looks directly into my eyes. “Why do you think, foolish boy? If we were to be together we’d be arrested. Besides, after the way I behaved towards him around those bullies we served with, I’m not surprised he shies away from me. I was a coward back then, and nothing has changed.”

  “So what happened – your big mistake, I mean?”

  “I was drunk at a party, and misread the signals I thought another man was giving me. I touched him inappropriately on his knee, and later on he and some of his cronies beat the living daylights out of me. They put me in hospital for a month.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, surprising myself with genuine honesty.

  He shrugs. “I brought it on myself. I learned my lesson the hard way. Now, if anyone makes a play for me, no matter how much I might like them, I decline their advances politely. It’s much safer that way.”

  “Is that why you drink?”

  “I turned to drink after my first love married the daughter of a Countess and fathered six children.”

  “The young man you kept in touch with after you left Ravenscroft?”

  Simmons nods. “His name was Jeremy, and he was the eldest son of Lord and Lady Wilmslow.”

  “Your first love was Lord Jeremy Wilmslow? Good lord! I would never have guessed that about him.”

  “I know. He kept it very quiet, for obvious reasons. He was expected to marry from a very early age. In fact, his future bride was selected for him when he was five. I don’t think they had a very happy marriage though.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, they have six children, and from what Jeremy has told me, I don’t think they had intimate relations many more times than that. Separate bedrooms, according to Jeremy – unless a new baby was required.”

  “It was purely a marriage of convenience – a loveless marriage?”

  Major Simmons nods sadly.

  “After he was married, did you and he – you know?” I’m trying to be delicate, but on such an uncomfortable subject, it’s not that easy. The Major, however, seems to appreciate my slightly tactless diplomacy.

  “A couple of times, no more. We were caught by his wife. It didn’t seem to be that much of a surprise to her, but she screamed blue murder at me, warned me that if I so much as looked at her husband again that she’d tell the world what a disgusting creep I am – her words, not mine.” He sighs deeply. “I never set eyes on either one of them again, but their one and only son was in the platoon under my command.”

  “Did he know who you were?”

  “In relation to his father? Yes, I’m sad to say he did. He had his revenge on me whilst we were in France.”

  I recall what Rashid all but told me about what most of the platoon did to him when they found out about his intrigue with their commanding officer, and suddenly I see the connection. “He was the ringleader, wasn’t he? What those animals did to poor M. Rashid – that was his revenge on you, wasn’t it?”

  It’s quite shocking to see a hardened war veteran crying, but my words elicit such a response from the Major. He downs the remainder of his whisky and dries his eyes. “Yes. That bastard saw how happy Ahmed made me, and he defiled him – he and the others. I wanted them all dead, but my poor, sweet Arab boy would hear nothing of it. Of course, it was the end for us both. Ahmed brought the relationship to a close, and I cannot blame him. I failed in my endeavor to look after him.”

  I reach out gently for the Major’s arm, surprisingly touched both by his use of M. Rashid’s given name, and also by the apparently genuine sadness at his recollection of events. “You didn’t fail him. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent it.”

  “Maybe not, but someone else could have. Herbert could have stopped it. He witnessed the whole thing, and did nothing. It should have been him who died, not Albert!”

  There is anger tinged with regret in the Major’s voice, and I begin to wonder how those events from the war played out. Did the Major have revenge after all, killing the wrong bystander? Rashid said that only the two Waterfield brothers along with the Major played no part in his defilement, and implied that Albert had died by the hand of one of the platoon. In spite of what Rashid had said about the Major’s inability to kill – was it possible?

  “Did you try to kill Herbert in revenge?” I ask quietly. “Did you try to kill him, and accidentally kill Albert instead?”

  “Good grief, why would you think such a thing?”

  “Well, M. Rashid said–”

  Major Simmons silences me with a raised hand. “I cannot believe that Ahmed would say anything of the sort. He knows I didn’t kill Albert, but I wish I had killed every one of those other bastards, and yes, I wish I could have killed Herbert too, for standing by and watching what they did. But I could no more kill any of them than I could Ahmed. I wasn’t a very good soldier.”

  “But you were – you are – a good human being. So, if you didn’t kill Albert, then who did?”

  “That, I’m afraid, is something you will have to ask of someone else.”

  I shrug hel
plessly. “Who should I ask?”

  Major Simmons fixes me with a penetrating stare. It’s like he’s trying to look into my mind, into my soul. “Why do you wish to know so much about those dreadful events? His eyes widen suddenly. “Are you Lord Wilmslow’s secret child, born out of wedlock to Mrs Draper?”

  I shake my head vehemently. “No, I’m not related to that dreadful woman. I have merely a natural curiosity when it comes to the human spirit. You and M. Rashid have both revealed your souls to me, and have spoken about Albert’s murder. I’m just curious as to who killed him if not either of you.”

  “Well, it’s not for me to say. It’ll only dredge up even more unpleasant memories, lad, so you’d best leave them buried. However, if you are hell bent on finding out, then there is but one other here today who was there at the time of Albert’s murder. Perhaps you’d be better off asking him.”

  Major Simmons tellingly does not say a name, but I know precisely who he’s speaking of. There was indeed one other of our number there that fateful day. The Major has just spoken about how he wished this other had died.

  I turn away from the Major, and there at the top of the stairs, looking rather pale and waxy, I see him.

  Herbert Waterfield.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I decide to go upstairs and confront Herbert. I don’t know whether he’ll reveal the truth to me. He has no reason to do so – I must seem like a nosey parker so far to both Rashid and Major Simmons. I cannot help myself though. There is a mystery here to be solved, and just asking a few more questions to the right person will get to the truth surrounding Albert Waterfield’s death.

  Wouldn’t his brother prefer the truth to come out? It must be incredibly painful for Cuthbert, not knowing the circumstances surrounding Albert’s death. Major Simmons and Rashid obviously know something of what occurred, and now so it seems does Herbert. Is there some dark secret that the three have been keeping from Cuthbert, and if so, why?

  Rashid intercepts me in the hallway as I take a couple of steps up the stairs. “You are going to press Herbie for answers, are you not?” There’s a look of unease on his face that makes me pause, my hand on the bannister and my foot poised for a further step. “Why is it so important that you find out what happened? You should let this go before someone gets hurt.”