But before the first gin was fizzed Crumpet raced out of the room and down the corridor barking with every step. Edwina followed him quickly and returned escorting Lucretia Ecclestone-Smythe into the room. The lady looked even more miserable than she had the day of the pigeon race. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her hat sat askew upon her untidy hair. Edwina directed her into the most comfortable chair in the sitting room and Beryl immediately handed her a cup filled with restorative libations.
Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe drained the glass before speaking. “Is it true that you found Lionel’s body?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes, I’m afraid that it is. I suppose the news has traveled all over Walmsley Parva and beyond if you’ve heard of it,” Edwina said.
“Naturally, as Lionel was one of my husband’s trusted employees, that officious policewoman telephoned him at home straightaway,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “Will you be continuing to pursue the case on behalf of your client now that Lionel is no longer a missing person?”
“That, naturally, will be something for us to discuss with our client. However, as we did in fact find him there is not much left for us to do,” Edwina said. As the vicar had wished to keep the missing birds and money a secret Edwina saw no need to mention them to their guest.
“You aren’t going to simply leave the investigation to that policewoman, are you?” Fresh tears appeared in Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s eyes and threatened to spill down her pale cheeks.
“Surely you are not here on behalf of your husband’s mining interests?” Beryl said. She kept her gaze fixed on Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe. The other woman tipped her head to the side and shrugged ever so gently.
“You really are a detective. No, I am not here on my husband’s behalf. In fact I’m here concerning my own interests and will be most grateful if my husband were not to find out I came to speak with you,” the visitor said. Beryl sensed a confession was on its way. She reached for Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s empty glass and took it to the drinks tray to refill it. In her experience very little loosened the tongue more quickly than well-applied quantities of quality liquor. After handing their guest her cocktail, Beryl set about completing the gin fizzes she had intended to make before Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe had appeared unexpectedly at the door. She pressed one into Edwina’s reluctant hand and settled back into her own chair with the other.
“You can be absolutely assured of our discretion,” Edwina said. “Isn’t that right, Beryl?”
“As ladies of a certain standing ourselves, we understand that not everything is everyone else’s business,” Beryl said. “Having had quite a number of husbands of my own I can assure you I completely understand the place in any marriage for privacy. I never considered a marriage vow to negate my right to keep what I wished to myself.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe took a long sip of her drink then cleared her throat.
“I could not agree more,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “I confess, I am here on a far more sordid business than any mining concern.”
“Are you here to ask us to discover if your husband has been unfaithful to you?” Edwina asked.
“Sadly, I have no need of private enquiry agents to help me to discover that. I am quite certain Ambrose has been behaving as expected with his latest secretary. Helen Chilvers, I think her name is. Blond, just the sort my husband fancies.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe lifted a hand and patted her dark brown hair. “Ambrose has spent the entirety of our marriage chasing, and I daresay, catching, other women.”
“I am very sorry to hear that,” Edwina said. Beryl could tell her friend meant it. Like so many women who had never married Edwina was a desperate romantic underneath her reasonable exterior. It was the reason, Beryl believed, that Edwina had not ever married. Real life could never live up to her fanciful imaginings of what love should be. Hearing that a woman with as much in her favor as Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe had made an unfortunate match would be a sore trial to Edwina’s tender sensibilities.
“The fact of the matter is my marriage has not been one based on romance but rather on practicalities. In truth, it was one of which my parents strongly approved. Not to put too fine a point on things, from the way he has treated me, I think it is fair to say my groom approved of the money my parents agreed to settle upon me far more than he ever approved of me.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe let out a long sigh. It rattled her slight frame and Beryl felt quite sorry for her.
“It’s a story with which we are quite familiar. Is that not so, Edwina?” Beryl asked. Edwina nodded vigorously.
“Beryl and I were at Miss DuPont’s Finishing School for Young Ladies together many years ago. I think it would be true to say that at least half of the other girls attending with us entered into similar sorts of marriages,” Edwina said.
“Do you wish us to provide you with incontrovertible proof of his conduct?” Beryl asked. She felt herself more than qualified to pursue that particular sort of an investigation having been on both sides of the divorce proceedings based on those very grounds. Twice.
“No. I have no need of proof. Perhaps I might have done if Lionel had not been murdered,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “I hope you will not feel too much loathing for me when I share with you what brings me here today.”
“It is not our place to judge our clients,” Edwina said.
“Certainly not,” Beryl said, rattling the ice in her glass. “Besides, I have often found myself in a position where it would not do to be judgmental towards anyone else.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe gave a ghost of a smile and placed her empty glass on the table beside her chair.
“As you may have guessed from my reaction and my appearance here today Lionel and I did not only know each other through my husband’s business. Of course that’s how we met, but it was not long before we meant more to each other than employee and employer’s wife.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe twisted her ornate, gold wedding ring round and round on her finger.
“The two of you were conducting an affair?” Beryl asked. She always found it best to get such things out in the open early on in a conversation. In her opinion, beating around bushes was only the least bit useful when one was out hunting. In all other circumstances it simply slowed down progress. She stole a glance at Edwina who was rising remarkably to the occasion. If Beryl did not know her friend so well she would never have guessed such conversations made Edwina deeply uncomfortable. In fact, if she had not been able to see the side of Edwina’s neck, which had taken on a color remarkably like strawberry jam, she would’ve had no idea her friend did not speak of such things with shocking regularity. She made a mental note to ply Edwina with gin fizzes whenever a new client appeared.
“Yes, that’s it exactly. It’s such a relief to be able to say it to someone. Lionel and I were very much in love. In fact, we had planned to run away together. We had arranged to meet after Lionel had delivered the birds to the pigeon race,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.
“Did you accompany him out of Walmsley Parva?” Edwina asked.
“No, I did not. We had arranged for him to go in one direction to the race and for me to head to London. We were supposed to meet up there that evening but he never arrived. I simply do not understand how he came to be found dead here in Walmsley Parva,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.
“What is it that you think we can do for you?” Beryl asked. “Did you want us to look into his murder? Or was it something else that was troubling you?”
“I hate to sound as though Lionel’s death is not uppermost in my mind. I hope you will understand if I have practical matters to consider as well,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “Which is how I pray that you can help me.” She leaned slightly forward in her seat.
“Do you mind if I take notes?” Edwina said. Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe shook her head. Edwina took out her notebook and retrieved a pen from a nearby table before settling back in her chair once more.
“While I longed for a relationship that provided me with a greater emotional attachment, I am accustomed to a certain
lifestyle. It is fair to say it is not one that can be supported by an absconding clark. In order to make a new life for ourselves that was the sort I would enjoy, it was clear to me we would require a source of funds. My husband has had sole charge of our money throughout the duration of our marriage. Ambrose has provided me with a generous allowance every week since we married. However, the only items of value I own outright are my pieces of jewelry,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.
“I don’t suppose you expected the allowance to continue after you left your husband for his employee?” Beryl asked.
“That’s it exactly. However, my jewelry is quite valuable. In fact, to say it’s worth a fortune would not be overstating things,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “And that’s where the two of you come in. When I last saw Lionel the night before the pigeon race, I entrusted him with all of it except for the pieces you see me wearing today.” She held up her left hand and fluttered her ring finger, sending a shower of sparkles from a large diamond around the room. She turned her head from one side to the other, displaying a pair of emerald earrings dangling from her earlobes.
“Do you think Mr. Cunningham was murdered for your jewelry?” Edwina asked.
“I hate to consider that that was a possibility but I can’t think of any other reason anyone would want to harm him,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “I can’t help but feel his death is somehow my fault.” She retrieved a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her small handbag and dabbed discreetly at her eyes.
“Besides the two of you, who would have known he had your jewelry?” Beryl asked.
“I haven’t any idea. I certainly didn’t tell anyone. And I can’t imagine that Lionel did either. We had promised each other to keep this entirely between the two of us. My husband is a powerful man and one of the largest employers in the area. If anyone had gotten the slightest hint of what we were up to, they might have been very happy to carry tales to him in order to ingratiate themselves with him,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “It was one of the reasons we did not wish to even be seen leaving Walmsley Parva on the same train.”
“So you wish for us to recover your missing jewelry?” Edwina asked.
“Exactly. And I need you to do so before my husband discovers that it is missing. While I have not been happy with Ambrose, I have no wish for him to discover my unfaithfulness. I’m rather afraid he would make my life a misery. One of the things that concerns me the most is that my jewelry will come up in the course of the police investigation. That would be most unfortunate indeed,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.
“We would be happy to be of assistance,” Beryl said.
“We will of course require a retainer,” Edwina said, letting out the tiniest hiccup to punctuate her assertion. Beryl hid a smile behind her hand.
“I had assumed as much.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe withdrew a tidy stack of bills from her handbag. “Shall we say this much to start?” She fanned out the money on the table in front of her. Beryl stole a glance at Edwina and noticed her friend experiencing far less discomfort with the conversation concerning fees than she had at the vicarage. Beryl had long suspected there was a steely businesswoman lurking under Edwina’s prim exterior. Even if much of her change of heart could be attributed to strong drink, Beryl felt a swell of pride at her part in bringing that side of Edwina to the surface.
“I’m sure that that is enough to get us started. We will provide you with an itemized account of our expenses and our hours. Should we need to send you a bill, how would you prefer for us to contact you?” Edwina asked.
“I’ll check in with you in a few days. I’m afraid my husband may have some suspicions. It was very difficult for me to hide my reaction to the discovery of Lionel’s body. I would not put it past him to begin opening my post.”
“We will await a message from you then,” Beryl said. Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe drew on her gloves and quickly took her leave of them. Edwina walked her to the door and when she returned sank back into her chair.
“I don’t know quite what has gotten into me. I’ve never been so forthright concerning money in my life. Although now that I come to think of it, I’m not quite sure how I feel about aiding one spouse in keeping secrets from the other,” Edwina said. Beryl noticed Edwina sneaking glances at the bills laid out across the table. She scooped them up and handed them to Edwina to count. She watched her friend’s face as she did so. Beryl very much doubted Edwina had ever held anywhere near so much money in her hand all at one time. Beryl toyed with the notion of introducing Edwina to the game of poker then thought better of it. Perhaps it would be best not to introduce too many new experiences all at once. Edwina might make a hasty retreat back into her far more respectable way of life and then where would they be?
“As fledgling business owners acquiring new clients should be first and foremost on our minds, Ed,” Beryl said. “We didn’t even have to go looking for this one. And the fee will come in rather handy too, don’t you think?”
“I can’t help but feel that it amounts to ill-gotten gains,” Edwina said.
“You felt much the same way about my poker winnings, but the money still took care of the accounts outstanding at the butcher and the greengrocer,” Beryl said. “Besides, it’s not all that much money.”
“How can you say that?” Edwina said, fanning herself with the stack of bills.
“It looks like a moderately good evening at the cards to me,” Beryl said. “We’ve already agreed to take her on so I can’t see leaving her to her fate with the likes of Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe. Can you?”
“She does remind me rather of Cynthia Billingham,” Edwina said. A vague memory tickled at the back of Beryl’s mind.
“Wasn’t she the one rumored to have committed suicide shortly after her wedding?” Beryl said.
“Within weeks, if my memory serves me correctly. She had also been persuaded to marry by her well-intentioned but misguided parents,” Edwina said.
“We will feel terrible if we allow such despair to befall Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe,” Beryl said.
“I suppose there’s no harm in looking into it for a few days,” Edwina said, crossing the room and placing the wad of bills in a milk glass vase on the bookshelf. “Where do you suggest we begin?”
“As much as I hate to say it, we are going to have to make inquiries of Constable Gibbs.”
“But Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe is anxious that no one know about the investigation into her missing jewels. We certainly would not want to involve the police in that,” Edwina said.
“We shan’t say anything about the jewels, but we do need to be sure that they were not on Mr. Cunningham’s body when it went off in the ambulance. I can’t think of anyone else to ask besides Constable Gibbs, can you?” Beryl said.
Edwina slowly shook her head. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid you’re right. I’m just not sure I’m up to two conversations with Doris Gibbs in one day.”
Beryl returned to the drinks cart once more. This time she concocted a drink made of more gin than fizz and handed it to Edwina. “Get this into you and I think you’ll understand why it’s called liquid courage.”
Chapter 16
Given the quantity of both gin and fizz, Edwina made the remarkably sound decision that the pair of them should approach the police station on foot. Beryl had asserted that she was never in finer form behind the wheel than when she had indulged in a cocktail or two, but Edwina insisted the fresh air would do them both good. Once again she disappointed Crumpet by leaving him at home, but she did not feel entirely up to the responsibility of his care considering how rosy and wavy the world around her looked.
By the time they had reached the police station she felt far more clearheaded. But Beryl was right; she did feel rather brave. Constable Gibbs’s churlish glance hardly seemed to reach her when they pushed open the door of the police station and approached the front desk.
“I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that the two of you are here to confess to Mr. Cunningham’s murder?” Constabl
e Gibbs said, scraping back her wooden chair and getting to her feet.
“I’m afraid that would simply make an excess of unnecessary paperwork for you,” Beryl said, “as we are still not the ones to have committed the crime. However, we are here in the course of our own investigation.”
“I told you not to meddle any further in this matter or I would consider you to be interfering with the police investigation. I don’t think I was unclear about that in the least,” Constable Gibbs said. She crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to appear menacing despite the fact that Beryl towered over her.
“We simply wish to conclude our business with our client. Mr. Cunningham was, as I’m sure you know, an important member of the local pigeon racing club. He had on his person at the time of his disappearance two or three valuable books on the subject of pigeon racing. The club would be very grateful to have them back and wished to know if he had them upon his person at the time of his death,” Edwina said.
“What makes you think he would have had them with him?” Constable Gibbs said.
“When we first began our investigation into his disappearance Edwina and I searched his room at his boardinghouse,” Beryl said.
“So I should just add unlawful entry to your list of criminal activities?” Constable Gibbs said, reaching for what Edwina was certain amounted to an official form of some sort. Doris Gibbs loved nothing better than official forms.
“We were there in the company of the landlady, Mrs. Plumptree,” Edwina said. “I doubt very much that could be considered any form of illegal entry. All we want to know is if we can return those valuable books to the pigeon racing club. I’m sure the vicar would be most grateful.” Edwina had seen in the past how eager Constable Gibbs was to associate with the vicar. Edwina couldn’t help but wonder if there was something weighing on the constable’s conscience. Perhaps if there were a lull between clients she and Beryl should investigate that little mystery. She stifled a hiccup and wondered what had gotten into her.
Murder Flies the Coop Page 11