“Yes, she had other domestic staff. It was a big house to run. But, Mrs. Butler was a widow and not in the best of health. I am not a trained hospital nurse, Inspector, but I have had a lot of previous experience looking after elderly people in poor health. As to the type of employer she was, well, she was a wonderful lady. That is why it is difficult to understand why anyone would want to harm her.”
“I believe Dr. Horton was in frequent attendance?”
She hesitated. Greene looked at her face and couldn’t fathom what it was he saw there. Then her look changed, her expression closed and there was a change in her tone.
“Yes, Dr. Horton called in several times a week, socially as well as professionally, I think you could say.”
He waited.
“Yes, I maybe shouldn’t say so, Inspector, but I used to think he spent more time there than was strictly, well, usual. Anyway, I’m speaking out of turn. I’m sure there were other things you wanted to ask me?”
“Yes. Miss Kirk, I wondered if you would be so good as to take me through Mrs. Burton’s normal routine. What was the procedure about her medicines, and so on?”
She described a restricted life of routine, punctuated by frequent rests, small walks, and regular doses of tablets.
“The usual, Inspector, but I’m sure the doctor will take you through them, better than me. He’s the professional. I know she had a tablet for her blood pressure, a water tablet, and that one to help her heart beat regularly. That’s the one I had to be careful about, take her pulse before giving it to her, and not give her the tablet at all if her pulse was less than sixty.”
So far, so consistent. Greene nodded slightly. “And the night she died, you must have been shocked. You’re the one who found her, I believe?”
“Yes, I sleep…I mean I slept in an adjacent room. I am a light sleeper at the best of times, but I think I must have been…what do they call it? Subconsciously? That’s it – subconsciously worrying about her.
“I heard a noise, like a little cry like she’d had a bad dream. I went in to her. Still, I didn’t think much of it. I thought she’d had a fainting fit. Then, I tried smelling salts, fetched a glass of brandy—but she wasn’t able to drink it. I realised then—her pulse was faint, then hardly detectible. I rang for the doctor. But he had already been to see Mrs. Butler earlier in the day, that’s the strange thing. There can’t have been anything then, can there? He listened to her heart.”
“How often did you say the doctor visited?” Inspector Greene interjected.
“Regularly, they played card games sometimes. I even heard them on occasion playing a duet on the piano.”
“Very cosy,” said the inspector, but, this time, she did not take the bait. “What time did the doctor leave?”
“Turned eight o’clock, I know because of supper. Mrs. Whitchurch, the cook, had left something cold, finished for the evening, you see. I remember thinking it didn’t matter so much about the meal being held up. They always seemed to have a lot to talk about, the doctor and Mrs. Butler.”
Her tone was neutral, almost too dispassionate. As usual, there was probably a hidden agenda. It could be an innocent case of the woman getting irritated at the presence of the doctor at awkward times in the day, or it could be something more significant. He changed direction.
“I believe you were left a nice little legacy by Mrs. Butler-several hundred pounds, wasn’t it?” He wouldn’t have believed the woman would flush, but she did, and it was unbecoming. Yes, the Victorians had been like that. Talking about money was vulgar, bad manners.
Greene stood, abruptly. Surprise crossed Esther Kirk’s face. But, he wasn’t quite finished. “I’m sorry Miss Kirk, but I’m a policeman and I’m looking into something very serious indeed. I haven’t the time to pussy-foot around.” He could see that he dropped down several degrees in her estimation by the way she looked at him, and looked away quickly.
“Aye, Mrs. Butler was a good lady and good enough to leave me some money in her will. She knew I was on my own and the future isn’t always palatable for those of us without kith and kin when we grow too old to continue in service. For all she was an American, she was a real lady, a thinking kind of woman, Inspector. But, even with the money and the fact that Miss Horton is a nice lady, I wouldn’t swap Mrs. Butler’s life and my own style of life as it was, for a legacy.”
I wonder…Greene shook his head. As his old granny, who was full of such sayings, used to say, “Fine words butter no parsnips.” But, for now, he had got as far as he could with this strange woman. He could not make her out, that was for sure. No, there was one other thing he needed to ask her before he took Sergeant Brown for a little fishing trip to the big smoke.
“The stepchildren,” he asked. “Tell me about them.” Again, there was tightening of the muscle around the jaw.
“That generation, Inspector, I don’t understand them, especially after what young people went through not all that many years ago. I daresay Mr. Roderick and Miss Caroline are no worse than other young ones, those with the money to indulge, at any rate.”
Inspector Greene nodded, let her take it as empathy if she liked, if it helped to get her to open up a bit. And, she had a point, though the young folk around here in the countryside were generally too busy to get up to no good. The wealthier usually, like Mrs. Butler’s stepchildren, sowed their wild oats in London. “And did they visit their stepmother often?”
She shrugged, a barely perceptible move of the narrow shoulders.
“Reasonably often you might say—maybe each month, or six weeks or so, sometimes the pair of them came together, sometimes just one, Mr. Roderick, probably came a bit more often. A lot of time on his hands, you might say. He’s in the business, but you know what it’s like Inspector, when there’s no shortage of money. They don’t have the same drive, do they?”
You might be a bit queer, but you have your head screwed on. In fact, if she were a different type of woman, he and she would get on very well. Not that that makes a lot of sense.
* * *
Edith stared at Henry and her face burned Of course, she was going to meet Henry at some time. Ellbeck was small, but she had not expected him to visit her here.
“Would you like to go outside, Edith? The air is fresh, with that hint of autumn. A lovely day.”
She nodded. Maybe it would be easier out of the atmosphere of this place. They did their best. It was clean, polished and they had things like sewing rooms and art therapy rooms. But it wasn’t just in her imagination. The walls themselves seemed to hold so much despair and sorrow. They walked around the back of the hospital, towards the vegetable garden. There were roses in bloom and sweet peas trailed up canes. Edith caught the aroma of sweet English summer. Something inside her broke. She sank to her knees and put her hands over her face.
Henry knelt beside her. “Edith, my dear.” His voice was calm. “Come on. Let’s get you across to one of the benches. We don’t want anyone seeing you so upset.”
In the midst of her tears that struck Edith as strange …strange and somehow comforting, as if they were in something together. Not in any romantic way, just as friends. For once, a nurse or attendant had not followed her at a distance.
She stood up and steadied herself against Henry’s arm. She took his handkerchief and scrubbed at her face as he led her to that same pink painted wooden bench. “No one about,” she said. “I think it’s the dog-collar. They must feel as though I’m in safe hands. Normally, they keep a good eye on me,” she added.
“I’m not too sure about the safe hands,” Henry said, sitting down alongside her. “I’m not doing much to help your spirits, so far.”
Edith was calmer, though still shaken by that surge of helplessness. How stupid. “I smelt the sweet peas. They were beautiful. It stirred something, something sad. How such bad in the world can exist hand in hand with such beauty?”
Henry took her hand. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just sat with her. “It’s true
,” he said, eventually. “But, I suppose your bout of illness is all about that.”
How do you mean?” She raised her eyes and looked in his face.
“Well, about losing equilibrium I suppose, when the evil things undermine the good, in your mind. That’s when you can’t enjoy the beauty and the good without instantly thinking of the other side of life.”
“It’s interesting that…that my view is distorted. It’s a thought to hold on to, isn’t it? It sounds much better than thinking I’m going mad. But, Henry, all I want to know is whether I will ever get better.”
He answered her instantly and his words, even if they could be viewed as platitudinous comforted her.
“I’m sure you will get better, Edith. Listen, you are one of the sanest and calmest people I know. That equilibrium will come back. I also know many others who have suffered a bout of…of…mental distress. Some of them are also reasoning sane people. Perhaps they think a bit more or a bit deeper than the man on the Clapham omnibus does. Maybe it is all that thinking that gets to them a bit.”
“The thing is, Henry, they are very good to me here, kind and patient and actually. I don’t feel that they view me as a madwoman. Well, maybe when I first came in. How bad was I Henry? I remember very little about it.”
He sighed, let go of her hand and smoothed his dark greying hair, something she had seen him do before, when he was at a loss. “Acutely distressed, Edith. When you say you don’t remember, do you mean you don’t remember the time just before you were admitted here, or are you meaning before that, as well?”
“I know what you are saying Henry. You mean Matt. I don’t know how much I do remember really. I remember the pain when I found out…out of all proportion to how long I’d known him. I remember a sense of urgency, a need to put things right, clear up the misunderstanding. But, it wasn’t a misunderstanding, was it?”
Henry shook his head.
“I remember a letter coming, Archie going around the house in a furious mood, everything going out of my control. The police came. I thought it was about Matt and that I had done something seriously wrong. I’ve had that feeling before, in the hospital, in the war—getting something wrong, panicking. After that, I just remember noise and shouting and someone crying…me, I think. Then here.”
“Thank you for talking to me, Edith, I know it must be painful, remembering, but part of the recovery as well.”
“Thank you for listening, Henry. The thing is, though, I need to talk to the staff here, to get my pass out. I like them, Dr. Uxbridge in particular. He’s good too, used to work in some centre in Surrey, where they sent ex-servicemen. He has enlightened ideas. But, I go in to see him with the best intentions and then I open my mouth and there’s only silence.”
“Is there something about him? I mean I know you say you like him, but maybe…is there a particular problem you have opening up to him?”
Edith shook her head. “Not that I know of. I suppose we had better get back,” She paused. “Henry.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Archie…he hasn’t been in for a few days. I don’t understand why. Mrs. Braithwaite said the police have been round again. I don’t know the results of the exhumation on Mrs. Butler. But, I think I can guess. I should be at home, helping and supporting him. Instead, I’m in here, an embarrassment, and a worry.”
She saw Henry’s frown.
“I know. I shouldn’t be talking like this. I can’t help being ill. I’m not doing it deliberately. I know the arguments, Henry. But, deep down many people view this sort of thing, breakdown, or whatever you want to call it, as weakness. Look what happened in the war. Men were shot for losing their nerve.”
“That was a disgrace. Stop Edith, if dwelling on the bad in the world is part of your depression, this guilt is also part of it. To get better, you have to stop it.”
“I know,” Edith said. “Maybe the whole business with Matt was part of my illness too. Do you think so?”
“I haven’t got all the answers, Edith, not at all. But, maybe if you believe that to be the case, then it was so. Sometimes our own hearts know the answers, but we don’t or can’t listen.”
* * *
Someone had pulled her out of the river. She remembered kicking and fighting. But that might have been panic, because she hadn’t seen or heard anyone coming, just felt arms around her body, “Eh, love, it isn’t worth that, whatever it is.”
She had felt ashamed then and flooded with feeling. The bubble had burst—this was real and somewhere deep inside amidst all the confusion was relief. What she had been going to do wasn’t the answer. He wouldn’t be better off—he would have to live with the knowledge of what she had done and maybe even blame himself.
Her parents…but she couldn’t think about them yet.
She would be dead and it would be too late to put anything right. It would be too late for everything.
Chapter 4
“Stop gawping, lad, anyone would think you’ve never been out of Yorkshire.
Have you been further than Harrogate, Brown?”
“Err, Leeds, once sir, on an outing.”
Greene raised his eyes to heaven. He didn’t refer to the fact his own knowledge of London was extremely limited. Six weeks seconded to the city, many years ago now. They were on their way to see Roderick Butler. To save themselves a wasted journey, they had contacted him, through the address given to them by that Esther woman.
“Does all right for himself,” said Greene as they approached the uniformed concierge at the high wooden reception desk.
“Bit like an ‘otel, isn’t it, sir?”
“Good for them that ‘as it handed to them. Never mind that kind of talk though. We speak to this fellow without prejudice. Forget that he was born with a whopping great silver spoon in ‘is gob.”
He was winding himself up. Never mind he was the one with the prejudices. Inspector Greene had risen up the ranks, been educated in the school of ‘ard knocks. All of that. Now he was talking as if it was Brown who was jumping to conclusions about the toff. He sighed as the concierge gave them directions. No one knows what he had to put up with.
“I’ll do the talking,” Greene said in a low voice as they waited for their knock to be answered.
The lean, tall, and laconic youth held out a lily-white hand to each of them in turn. He confirmed everything Greene thought about him. The room was opulent, but immaculate and tasteful, too. There would definitely be a manservant and a housekeeper, somewhere in the background.
“I didn’t see you there, miss,” Greene said to the young lady seated on the leather sofa. The room was so big-you could miss your granny in here.
She got up and came towards them, holding out her hand.
“My sister, Caro…Caroline, to use her proper moniker,” said Roderick. “Thought it would save us all time and trouble, don’t you know, if you could see both of us. You do want to talk to both of us, I suppose?
“Yes, Mr. Butler. You suppose right. That’s why we’re here. We want to have a chat with both you and your sister.”
“We haven’t seen Mummy for, oh, ages, Inspector—must be, what Rod, six weeks something?”
“Yah,” said Roderick, “York races, we stayed over with Mummy, for what? A couple of nights? Always glad to see us, Mummy.”
So it’s mummy. Utterly ridiculous in a grown man, whatever about the girl. Pity he’s so much better looking than her. There was a likeness between the brother and sister, but in Caroline, the looks didn’t quite come off. There was the slightest coarsening of the fair features, and her mouth looked too big and too full of teeth. But, she seemed, to Greene, to have a lot more go in her, than the brother did.
“Such a shock, poor old mummy,” said Roger. “By the way, can we offer you something in the line of refreshment. Tea, coffee, something stronger? He made a braying sound that was presumably a laugh.
Greene nearly disgraced himself and laughed out loud.-The man sounded like a donkey braying. “A
cup of tea, would be nice, Mr. Horton. Greene expected the girl to go and get it, but no, Roderick rang a little brass bell, and a woman with neat hair in a bun and a crossover apron came to take his order for tea. How the other half lives.
“So, it would come as a surprise to you both to find that your stepmother died of an overdose of her heart medicine?” Greene deliberately threw the question at them.
The girl began to giggle and then put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, but this must be some sort of a sick joke, mustn’t it, Roderick.” She looked at her brother,
“What grounds do you have for saying that, Inspector?” Roderick asked.
“Her body was exhumed as a result of information received.”
“Her body exhumed? That’s outrageous. Why weren’t we, as her next-of-kin asked for permission, or even informed?” Roderick’s Adam’s apple strained as he assumed his natural place at the top of the pile.
“We need a court order, Mr. Butler, not anyone’s permission. And you and your sister proved a little elusive.”
He looked mollified. “Yes, well, that’s true, I suppose. I’ve been in the South of France and Caro’s been filming.”
“Really, miss, how interesting. You an actress then?”
The girl transformed. Not that she suddenly appeared to be a raving beauty, or anything-but something shone in her face, almost luminous, Greene thought, in a rare flash of poetry.
“Well, I’m hoping to be. Now, I’m only at the edges, a sort of extra. A bit part in the latest picture Randolph is shooting actually, but I’m pretty sure it’s just a matter of time.”
“Stow it, Caro, old girl. What will the policemen think about you—rabbiting on about the pictures when they have delivered this dreadful news about mummy?”
She shut up and looked embarrassed.
“We have established that the last time you both saw your mummy, I mean mother…was about six weeks ago. We can verify that by talking to her housekeeper, companion woman, whatever she’s called, and the daily staff. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary, any unusual visitors to the house, anything at all like that?
Treated as Murder Page 3