Before Beryl had appeared last autumn to take up lodgings at the Beeches, she had begun to worry that she would lose her home. Her eyes had been equally marred by bluish looking bruises beneath them every morning when she looked in the mirror until Beryl had come up with a way to solve her financial difficulties. Perhaps she was not simply behaving dramatically but rather was terrified of her own husband. She wouldn’t be the first woman to feel that way. Regrettably, she wouldn’t have even been the first in Walmsley Parva.
“Please rest assured that we’ve done nothing to expose the purpose of our questioning. Your secret is safe with us,” Edwina said.
Beryl crossed one trouser leg over the other and cleared her throat. Edwina just knew she was about to ask an impertinent question. Edwina’s stomach clenched. She felt she had just done a decent job of smoothing things over with Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe. Unless she missed her guess, Beryl was about to rile things up again.
“In the course of our investigation it has come to our attention that Mr. Cunningham may have had a romantic entanglement with another woman. Did you ever suspect him of seeing anyone else?” Beryl asked.
“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. “My Lionel was certainly not carrying on with another woman. His heart was entirely devoted to me. Of that you can be absolutely certain.” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe sat bolt upright once more and crossed her arms over her chest. She gave Beryl the sort of glare one reserves for an undisciplined scullery maid traipsing through the front parlor when guests are visiting.
“You seem surprised to hear such a thing might have been possible,” Beryl said. “I assure you the information comes from a very good source.”
“Who is this person? Who is it that lays claim to Lionel’s affections or has insinuated that someone else does?” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said.
“I’m afraid that much of what happens during the course of an investigation must be kept in the strictest of confidence,” Edwina said. “Miss Helliwell means no offense. It is simply important that we ask the questions that will get us to the truth. If Mr. Cunningham had been involved with another woman, it does open up the possibility that he gave her your jewelry.”
“He most certainly did no such thing,” Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe said. She struggled to her feet, her face suffused with red and her breath coming out in small pants. “I have hired you to find my jewelry, not to cast aspersions on someone I esteemed. I’m expecting a result sooner rather than later. I’ll bid you good day.” She hurried off without a backward glance across the green and onto the high street. Edwina heard a honk from a motorist forced to swerve to avoid hitting her.
“Oh dear, I do think you could have handled that differently, Beryl,” Edwina said. “I think we’re quite lucky that you haven’t lost us our only paying client. I fear it was unkind of you to take her so completely by surprise.” She turned to face Beryl who was looking thoughtfully at Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s retreating form.
“I’m not so sure I believe she was surprised. She may have suspected him of being unfaithful to her all along,” Beryl said.
“Do you really think so?” Edwina said.
“I think anything is possible at this point. For all we know our client is in fact the murderer,” Beryl said. “She may have discovered his infidelity herself and killed him in a fit of rage. She may have already looked in all the places we have for her jewelry and come up with nothing. That may be why she hired us in the first place. She wishes to look like the victim, not the perpetrator.” Edwina followed Beryl’s gaze and wondered if the reason for the alteration in Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s appearance really did have more to do with guilt than with grief.
Chapter 26
Edwina suggested it would be best to give Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe time to complete her shopping in the high street before approaching the shops themselves. She mentioned that should they encounter their client, it might be impossible for her to feign civility in their presence. They waited near the pond, feeding the ducks and basking in the spring sunshine for a quarter of an hour before making their way to the post office. Beryl was in need of stationery with which to write to her ex-husbands who were in arrears with their alimony payments. Edwina expressed an interest in purchasing a box of lemon drops. Beryl had noticed it was one of her friend’s few dietary weaknesses.
The sweetshop cum post office cum stationer was empty when the pair pushed open the door and stepped inside. The proprietress, Prudence Rathbone, stood behind the counter buffing the wooden countertop with a polishing cloth. She looked up and gave Beryl and Edwina one of her famous long-toothed smiles. Prudence, Beryl uncharitably thought, always put her in mind of a meerkat. With her long skinny neck, her slightly bulging eyes, and her ever-wary ears, trolling for the slightest bit of gossip, she was a dead ringer for the small animal.
“Are you ladies here doing some shopping or are you here on a case?” Prudence asked.
“We have shopping to do today. Do you have any airmail stamps?” Beryl asked. Prudence nodded and whisked her cleaning supplies out of sight beneath the counter.
“I have some right here,” Prudence said, pulling a tray of stamps from a drawer. “Of course you’re here doing some shopping since the case has been solved. There isn’t anything else for you to do now, is there?” Beryl heard a small squeak escape from Edwina’s lips from somewhere over near the confectioner’s case. Prudence must’ve heard it too because her already enormous smile stretched so far, it looked painful.
“It seems that you are in possession of some information we have not yet heard, Prudence,” Edwina said. “Has Constable Gibbs made an arrest?”
Prudence Rathbone took her time in answering. She fussed and fidgeted with the tray of stamps, appearing to have difficulty in locating those meant for airmail. “Here they are. You must have so many people overseas with whom you correspond, Miss Helliwell,” Prudence said. “So many admirers. Especially the gentlemen, I daresay.” Prudence made a brisk tut-tutting noise. Beryl thought how quickly Prudence’s tune had changed from ardent admirer to sly critic. Beryl still found novelty in what it meant to be settled anywhere long enough for people to become so accustomed to a celebrity that they no longer found them awe-inspiring. It seemed that it was only yesterday when Prudence fell all over herself to ingratiate herself with Walmsley Parva’s most famous resident. Prudence’s attitude would simply not do.
“I count myself fortunate that there are quite a number of people who esteem me in some way or other,” Beryl said. She turned to Edwina. “People I have a great deal of interest in too, like Minnie Mumford. I suggest we go straightaway to Minnie’s tearoom to get the story on what Prudence is happiest keeping to herself. Minnie has always stood out as someone upon whom we can rely to be in the know about such things.” Beryl reached into her pocket and pulled out exact change for the postage and handed it to Prudence.
“An excellent suggestion. I always find Minnie to be remarkably well informed where truly useful information is concerned,” Edwina said, stepping towards the door. Beryl lifted the stamps from the counter without waiting for Prudence to bother slipping them into a cellophane packet.
“Minnie Mumford most certainly does not know the details of this particular incident. I happened to see it with my own eyes.” Prudence reached out and plucked the stamps from Beryl’s hand. She rattled the cellophane envelope open as if it had done her a personal affront. “I just so happened to be looking out my bedroom window yesterday evening when Constable Gibbs could be seen marching a suspect into the police station.” Prudence slid the stamps into the envelope and held them hostage.
“Well, that does seem as though you might know a little bit more than Minnie about what transpired,” Edwina said, easing away from the door and back towards the counter.
“You don’t happen to know the identity of the suspect?” Beryl said. Prudence leaned conspiratorially across the counter.
“I don’t know his name as I do not associate with his sort of people. I d
o know that he appeared to be grubby and coarse. My immediate impression was that he was one of those miners. Which supports my opinion that it does no good to encourage them to attend the Walmsley Parva May Day fete,” Prudence said. “So many of the working class are criminally inclined. It is such a relief not to be counted amongst them.” Beryl and Edwina exchanged a glance.
“Just last year I seem to remember reading a lengthy article on crimes committed by tradespeople and even members of the gentry,” Edwina said. “I distinctly remember mention of a postmistress over in Beddingstowe being caught helping herself to postage without paying for it and then selling it to family and friends at a reduced rate all the while pocketing the profit. I should hate to think all postmistresses were the same any more than I would think all members of the working class are the same.”
Prudence’s face crumpled and she took a step backwards. Beryl could see that Edwina’s remarks had hit home. Beryl liked to think she had been something of a good influence on her friend on the subject of thwarting traditional class structural constraints. It did the heart good to see Edwina sticking up for the miners and all working-class people. Although, if Beryl were to be entirely honest, it was also good to see Prudence feeling so utterly uncomfortable.
“Thank you for the information, Miss Rathbone,” Beryl said. “Based on your description, Edwina and I know exactly who it is Constable Gibbs has arrested. You’ve been most helpful.” Beryl reached across the counter and plucked the envelope of stamps from Prudence’s grip. She took Edwina by the arm and the two of them strolled out of the shop. She could hear Prudence coming around the counter and opening the door to shout after them, but they just kept going without a backwards glance.
They hurried out of sight and out of earshot. “Martin Haynes,” they said in unison.
“Do you think he has the jewels?” Edwina said.
“I have no idea, but we’re going to have to get in to the police station and ask some questions,” Beryl said. “And I think I know who’s going to help us to do it.”
Chapter 27
Edwina left Beryl in search of Archie Harrison. Beryl would not tell her exactly what she was up to, which left Edwina feeling uneasy. Beryl had insisted they would be best served to leave Archie to her while Edwina paid a second call to Mrs. Plumptree, the boardinghouse landlady. Edwina steeled her nerves to the idea of heading back into the boardinghouse and encountering Cyril once more. His uncanny ability for mimicry reminded her most uncomfortably of Mr. Plumptree. Edwina had seldom found herself the subject of any male attention, let alone that of the persistently unwelcome variety. Mr. Plumptree had been an exception. In fact, just hearing Cyril’s voice took her back to a few harrowing encounters with the bird’s original owner at the Walmsley Parva reading room. It made Edwina blush with shame just to think of the liberties he had attempted to take. In fact, it had been so unpleasant she had stopped making use of the reading room entirely until word spread that Mr. Plumptree had run off in the night leaving both Mrs. Plumptree and more surprisingly, Cyril, behind.
Despite her discomfort, she told herself, she was a professional and it was important for her to do what needed doing, regardless of the cost to herself. She walked along the high street until she reached the lane to turn off for Shady Rest Boardinghouse. She knocked upon the door and Mrs. Plumptree answered almost immediately. Edwina wondered if the landlady was a bit lonely since she seemed so eager to welcome Edwina into her sitting room. Cyril stood perched on Mrs. Plumptree’s shoulder and he leaned forward to greet Edwina with a bawdy welcome.
“You’re a fetching lass,” Cyril said. Mrs. Plumptree turned and waddled down the hallway with Edwina trailing in her wake. Edwina took the same chair she had sat in before. It maximized her distance from Cyril and minimized the distance to the doorway. Cyril lifted one foot from Mrs. Plumptree’s shoulder and began grooming one of his claws. Edwina felt a shiver run up her back.
“So what brings you here today?” Mrs. Plumptree asked. “I heard that poor Mr. Cunningham had been found.” Mrs. Plumptree reached up and scratched Cyril’s head. The bird nestled its beak into Mrs. Plumptree’s hair and began absentmindedly plucking at the wisps of grey threading through it. Edwina felt her own scalp crawl at the sight of him.
“I am here about Mr. Cunningham and I hoped you would be able to answer some delicate questions,” Edwina said. She had a sense that the gossipy landlady would be thrilled to be asked about something slightly unsavory. After all, she had been, by all accounts, happily married to the unsavory Mr. Plumptree for many years. Mrs. Plumptree stood up and carried Cyril to his perch. She leaned forward and urged him onto it before returning to the couch. Clearly she did not want any distractions. Or perhaps she was concerned about developing a bald patch.
“I’d be more than happy to help you in any way that I can. Of course what happened to poor Mr. Cunningham was a tragedy and I’m eager to help bring his murderer to justice,” Mrs. Plumptree said. She shifted forward in her seat.
“I knew you were exactly the person to help. I said as much to Miss Helliwell just this very morning. I’m wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Mr. Cunningham’s personal relationships. You don’t know of any special connection he had to any women here in the village, do you?” Edwina asked.
“Mr. Cunningham had no special lady in his life as far as I could tell.” Mrs. Plumptree drummed her fingers on her knee and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Edwina snuck a glance upward herself and noticed a cobweb stretched across the ceiling fixture. Her fingers itched to pull out a duster and remove it. “In fact, I took a special interest in such matters. Although I would have been more than happy, as I believe I mentioned before, if Mr. Cunningham had been interested in becoming my second husband, I did not take offense when it was clear he was not open to that idea.” Mrs. Plumptree shrugged as if to say who could blame him. Edwina most certainly could not, given the state of the housekeeping and the landlady’s devotion to her parrot.
“So as far as you knew, there was no one?” Edwina asked. “Would it surprise you to hear that one of your other boardinghouse tenants, Miss Chilvers, claims to have formed a serious attachment to Mr. Cunningham?”
“I would find it absolutely astonishing,” Mrs. Plumptree said. “In fact, when it became clear that Mr. Cunningham had no interest romantically in me, I suggested to Miss Chilvers that perhaps the two of them would make a good match.”
“Did she say that she did not agree?” Edwina asked. Edwina pulled her notebook from her pocket once more and began to jot down the pertinent bits of their conversation.
“She said she had not the least interest in pursuing a relationship with Mr. Cunningham. She said that her employer, Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe, was very strict on the subject of office romances and would not continue to employ her should she become involved with Mr. Cunningham,” Mrs. Plumptree said.
“But why should Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe find out about it?” Edwina asked. “They certainly could have continued to be discreet at the office, could they not?”
“I said much the same thing. I said they both would be busy at work and had no reason to let on the details of their private lives. After all, it wasn’t as though Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe spent his time outside of the office socializing with the employees. I said it would be an easy thing to have her cake and eat it too so to speak,” Mrs. Plumptree said. Cyril squawked from his perch as if in complete accord with his mistress.
“What did she say? Did she simply not find him to be an attractive young man?” Edwina asked. Edwina found that hard to believe. There was such a shortage of young men after the war that most young ladies were willing to consider every available option. In Mr. Cunningham’s case he had all four of his limbs, both of his eyes, and a good paying job. She also had claimed that the two of them were in love. Why in the world would she have led her landlady to believe she had no interest in Mr. Cunningham whatsoever?
“If you can believe it, in these modern times, Miss Chil
vers said that she had been raised in a very religious home and that it was unseemly for her to be romantically entangled with a man to whom she was not married whilst living under the same roof,” Mrs. Plumptree said. “I could say nothing else on the matter. After all, who’s to rebuke a thing like that?”
“Of course you could have said nothing,” Edwina said. “Although it does seem unusual. Young women these days tend to be far less concerned about the appearance of that sort of thing.”
“I was astonished,” Mrs. Plumptree said. “In my business, you are most usually concerned with quite the opposite sort of behavior taking place under your roof. You have to maintain a state of constant vigilance in order to be sure that the reputation of your establishment does not become sullied. One would hate to be known as the sort of place where such things went on.” Edwina could not help but notice a wistful look pass across Mrs. Plumptree’s face. She was quite certain that in her heart of hearts Mrs. Plumptree was a romantic and not one bound by the strictest sense of morality.
“I’ve never heard a whisper of malicious gossip concerning the morals of your establishment,” Edwina said soothingly. She did wonder if it would be best to let Mrs. Plumptree in on the sort of malicious gossip that she had heard from Minnie Mumford and Prudence Rathbone on the subject of Shady Rest Boardinghouse. If Mrs. Plumptree knew exactly what was being said, perhaps she would be more disturbed by the cobwebs clinging to her front parlor ceiling. Then again, Edwina decided it was not her place to tell another woman how to conduct her business. After all, Edwina would not care for someone doing the same to her.
Murder Flies the Coop Page 18