3 The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks

by James Anderson

  Gregory stood up. 'Look, how much longer are we going to have to stay here? I really need to get back to town.'

  'I can't keep you here, Mr Saunders, if you decide to leave, but I would much prefer it if everybody remained one more night.'

  'You think you might clear this up by tomorrow?'

  'Put it like this: if we don't, it could drag on for a long time, perhaps weeks. Plainly, I couldn't expect everybody to stay that long, so one more day would be the maximum I would ask people to remain. If one person left today, it would probably mean others would want to follow his example.'

  'Very well, I won't rock the boat.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  Gregory went out.

  * * *

  Gerry saw her father leaving the morning-room and remembered she hadn't told her mother about the nettles. She decided she'd better get it over with and went back in, but before she could say anything the Countess forestalled her. 'Oh, Geraldine, good, I wanted to talk to you. I may be worrying quite unnecessarily, but I have to tell somebody. I'm rather concerned about your father.'

  Gerry was suddenly alert. 'What do you mean?'

  'Well, he's behaving very oddly.'

  'Why, what's he done now?' She spoke sharply.

  ' "Now"? You mean you've noticed something, too?'

  'Well, perhaps.'

  'Tell me, please,' said the Countess.

  'If you'll tell me.'

  'Very well. But you first.'

  * * *

  Five minutes later Lady Burford said: 'Of course, your father has always been a trifle eccentric. And after all, some people do enjoy nettle soup, I believe, and carrying a spare pair of socks in one's pocket could be regarded as quite a practical idea. Nonetheless . . .'

  'Putting them together,' Gerry said. 'And at this time, with policemen in the house and all of our guests under a cloud.'

  'Precisely. He is terribly upset by what's happened. In a way, it's worse than the other times because these people are all members of the family. Quite distant relatives, they may be, but they do all have Saunders blood, and some of them actually carry the name. Your father is totally without any personal pride or conceit, but he is immensely proud of the family, and now it seems one of its members is a murderer. I'm wondering if the blow has just been too much for him. And it's all my fault, really. I virtually insisted on having them here.'

  'Mummy, you mustn't think that. Daddy did fully agree eventually. No one could have foreseen what happened. And I think we are probably over-reacting. It could be he's just trying to take his mind off things. He does get these sudden crazes. Remember how he became an avid film fan, virtually overnight?'

  'Cutting up stinging nettles in one's study, and deciding always to carry a spare of socks in one's pocket in the middle of the summer hardly fall into the same category. And if he wants to take his mind off things, why doesn't he go up and play around with his guns? That's what he's always done in the past when he's wanted to relax.'

  'Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. Unless you think you ought to call Dr. Ingleby to come and see him?'

  'Oh no. Not for the time being, anyway. No, we'll just have to keep a close eye on him - both of us. And hope the guests don't notice anything.'

  'Tommy already has.'

  Before they could say any more there was a tap on the door and Agatha and Dorothy came in. Agatha was now dressed, the Countess was relieved to note, in a very suitable tweed skirt and dark grey twin-set. Dorothy, who looked even paler than before beside Agatha's rubicund features, was still dressed in her funeral garb. Gerry remembered her promise to Wilkins and after a brief word hurried out.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As Gregory went out, Gerry came in. 'Just to let you know, Agatha Saunders has arrived and Dorry's up. They're both in the morning-room with Mummy, if you want to see them.'

  'I do indeed.'

  'Will you want me there when you talk to them, sir?' Leather asked. 'If not, I'd like to go through my shorthand notes, check everything's readable, while what people said is fresh in my mind.'

  'That's OK, Jack, I won't need a note of what the Misses Saunders say.'

  He and Gerry went out, to find Merryweather waiting to inform him that he was wanted on the telephone.

  'Ah. Probably the result of the PM. I'll join you in a few moments, Lady Geraldine,' he said, and trotted off.

  Having come off the phone, Wilkins was waylaid by Smithson, who told him he had finished the fingerprinting. Wilkins sent him back to Westchester and then went to the morning-room. The Countess introduced him to Agatha and Dorothy, who were sitting close together on the sofa. Wilkins offered his sympathies. 'I'm very sorry not to have had an opportunity to pay my respects earlier, Miss Dorothy,' he said, 'but it didn't seem necessary to disturb you.'

  Dorothy gave a nervous little smile. 'That's quite all right.'

  'First of all I have to tell you that the post-mortem has confirmed that your stepmother was suffocated.'

  Dorothy screwed up her face in horror and gave a shudder. Agatha squeezed her hand. Her face was grim. 'And you've no idea by whom?'

  'Not yet, miss, no.'

  'But by one of the people in the house.'

  'Unless we find that the alarm system was faulty, I'm afraid so.'

  The Countess interrupted. 'Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Wilkins, I should have mentioned that a man came by earlier and checked it. He said it's working perfectly and there's no sign of it's being tampered with.'

  'Thank you, my lady. It's what we expected, really.' He looked at Dorothy. 'I'm not going to make you relive the horrors of last night, miss. I've had a full account of what happened from Lady Geraldine, which I'm sure is completely accurate. But I would like to ask both of you about the accusations which your stepmother made yesterday. What do you think was behind them?'

  They looked at each other. Dorothy spoke first. 'She was terribly upset. She felt Florrie had slighted her in front of her relations.'

  'As, of course, she had,' Agatha said. 'Dorry's told me what she said in the will about Mother's income proving inadequate, and that she'd made a few changes in it recently. I reckon that could have been one of them. I told Grandmamma about Mother's little enterprise some months ago. I must say, though, I wish Grandmamma could have been a bit more diplomatic, tried to say something just a little nice about Mother and perhaps left her some token, a piece of jewellery, or something. Not that perhaps she deserved it, as she'd no doubt provoked and upset Florrie after Daddy died. We never saw our grandmother when we were children. But it would have avoided what sounds to have been a dreadful scene, and spared poor Dorry the embarrassment.'

  'Do you think she really believed there'd been a conspiracy?'

  Dorothy nodded. 'I followed her up to her room and she was adamant that was what had happened. I didn't believe it, but I didn't argue.'

  'Your mother, though, must have made herself some enemies.'

  'Well, she did get a threatening phone call a few weeks ago.' Dorothy said.

  'Really? Tell me about that.'

  'It was somebody drunk and very abusive. He said she'd ruined his life and that he'd make her pay. I persuaded her to tell the police, but, of course, there was nothing they could do.'

  'You think killing her might have been an act of revenge, Mr Wilkins?' Agatha asked.

  'Oh, I doubt it, miss. No, I think the significance of her having enemies is that people the lady has exposed, like that caller, would often know whom they had to blame, would be extremely bitter and no doubt make this very clear to their friends. As a result, quite a lot of people — perhaps some of them in this house - would have got to know that when she threatened to expose somebody, she was genuinely capable of doing so. It wasn't just empty words. So this claim of knowing damaging things about her relatives: was that true?'

  The young women again glanced at each other. Then Dorothy gave a little nod, as if prompting Agatha to answer.

  She seemed to weigh her words before s
peaking. 'She was only really interested in people well-known or wealthy or of high social standing. So the only two guests here whom she might have targeted are Timothy and Gregory. She may have discovered something about one or both of them, but I've never heard her mention either of them in any context. So my guess is that it was a shot in the dark. She thought there was a fair chance one or both of them might have secrets in their lives, so she just let fly. I think she included the others, just because she was so angry with everybody, and also didn't want anyone to think she just had those two in mind. That is, as much as she had time to think about what she was saying at all.'

  'I'm sure that's an extremely perspicacious analysis, Miss Agatha,' Wilkins said.

  'Sounds spot on to me,' said Gerry. 'And surely the important thing is not what Clara knew or didn't know, but what somebody feared she knew.' She saw all eyes on her and smiled a little sheepishly. 'Sorry, Mr Wilkins. There I go again.'

  'No, you're quite right, Lady Geraldine. Which is why, if we don't clear it up quickly, it could take weeks - because it will be necessary to investigate each of the suspects exhaustively to try and discover if any of them do have a really big and clanking skeleton in their cupboard.'

  'Well, just as long as you do get him,' Agatha said. 'I may not have been at all close to my stepmother, but that doesn't mean I want to see the swine who held a pillow over her face escape justice, especially if he — or she — did it to cover up something shady in their own life.'

  'Well, I'll certainly do my best, miss. Now, there is just one more question, before we leave. Do either of you know of a Miss Dora Lethbridge?'

  As one, they nodded. Agatha said: 'She was our stepmother's mother - our stepgrandmother, I suppose you'd call her.'

  'We never knew her,' Dorothy added. 'She died before our stepmother married Daddy.'

  'I see. The answer so near at hand all the time. Was Lethbridge her maiden or married name?'

  'Both,' said Agatha. 'Apparently she married a second cousin or something, also called Lethbridge.'

  'You don't happen to know the date of her death, do you?'

  They both shook their heads.

  'Or her birthday?'

  The reaction was the same. 'What's your interest in her, Chief Inspector?' Agatha asked.

  'It's this, Miss Agatha.' Wilkins produced a wad of papers from his inside pocket, ruffled through them and handed a card to Agatha. 'That was found in your stepmother's bedroom. I was wondering if she was planning to insert it in one of those In Memoriam columns some papers carry. People mark the anniversary of someone's death, or their birthday. If her mother was born or died this month, or next, it would be an indication that might be what she was planning.'

  Agatha stared at the card. 'I don't remember her ever doing anything like that, do you, Dorry?'

  'No. But that's not to say she never did. I never read through those columns, so I wouldn't have seen it, if she had.'

  'And I suppose it's possible - if there was a particularly important anniversary coming up. Would it have been Dora's hundredth birthday soon?'

  'She couldn't have been that old.'

  'Fiftieth anniversary of her death? No, that doesn't seem right, either. Anyway, why would she have been writing it here? Though I suppose it might have just occurred to her, and it was something to do. She must have been pretty bored, staying in her room alone all that time.'

  Dorothy held out her hand. 'Give it me, a moment.'

  Agatha did so and Dorothy studied it closely. 'I don't think this is Mother's writing.'

  'Are you sure, miss?' Wilkins asked.

  'Not absolutely. It's difficult when something's all in capitals. But she always wrote an 'E' with a very short middle bar. There are' - she counted - 'three 'Es' here, and in each of them all the bars are the same length. See?'

  She passed the card back. Agatha nodded. 'Yes, I see. But I never studied her writing all that closely, so I wouldn't know.' She returned it to Wilkins. 'I'm sure we could find out the dates Dora was born and died, if we went through Mother's papers.'

  'Maybe we'll have to ask you to do that. But it's probably of no importance. It's just one of those little points one likes to clear up.' He got to his feet.

  'You said you're leaving us now, Mr Wilkins?' the Countess asked.

  'Only briefly, my lady. The sergeant and I are just going to slip down to the village and get a bite to eat at the pub.'

  'Oh, please stay and have something here.'

  'Oh, that's very kind. An offer I didn't expect.'

  'I don't suppose you'll want to sit down with all the suspects - might be somewhat embarrassing. But if you don't mind lunching in the breakfast-room . . .'

  'I think I can speak on behalf of Sergeant Leather when I say that will cause us no qualms at all, my lady.'

  * * *

  'He's been in his study an hour now,' said the Countess to Gerry later, 'supposedly looking over the accounts. But he only did it a week or so ago. And now with a murder investigation going on here!' She stood up. 'I've got to know what he's up to.'

  'What are you going to do?' Gerry asked.

  'Just walk straight in as though I didn't know he was in there. Tell him I was looking for some writing paper or envelopes, or something.'

  'He might have locked himself in.'

  'I hope not. He's never done that. It would mean he wants to keep whatever he's doing a secret.'

  Lady Burford left the room and marched resolutely to her husband's study. Outside, she paused and listened. All was silent within. She took a deep breath, turned the knob, threw open the door and marched into the room.

  The Earl, sitting at his desk, spun round with a start and stared at her, a positively guilty expression on his face.

  'Oh, George, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still here. Do you have any envelopes? I seem to have run . . .' Her voice tailed off as she took in the contents of the desk. Two half- empty bottles of ink, one blue, one red, stood each side of a small bowl, which contained a purplish liquid.

  With a great effort of will, the Countess suppressed any sign of surprise. 'What are you doing?' she asked casually.

  'Doing? Oh, nothin' much. Just been makin' some purple ink. Mixed red and blue.'

  'I see. Any particular reason?'

  'Not really. Just thought it would be a change. Gets a bit boring, always using blue for everything.'

  'I suppose it does. But couldn't you have bought a bottle?'

  'Not likely to have any in the village shop. Would have meant sendin' someone into Westchester.'

  'Was it so important to have some now?'

  'No, no. But had the red ink. So thought, might as well, you know.'

  'Of course.' The Countess was running her eyes rapidly over the other things on the desk.

  'What was it you wanted? Oh yes, envelopes.' The Earl opened a drawer, withdrew half a dozen envelopes and handed them to her. 'That enough?'

  'Oh yes, plenty, thank you. I'll, er, leave you to it, then. Try not to spill any.'

  'No, I'll be careful.'

  The Countess went out.

  * * *

  'Purple ink,' said Gerry. 'It's the sort of thing he'd usually think was rather vulgar.'

  'Well, of course, it is. But that's the least of my worries. There was something else extremely odd.'

  'What?'

  'A thin strip of paper, with writing on it - big block capitals.'

  'Saying what?'

  'I couldn't tell. It was backwards.'

  'Backwards?'

  'Yes. Mirror writing. I didn't have time to work it out. For a moment I thought it was Russian, or some other language, but then I did recognise the word 'all' - 'LLA,' with the 'Ls' the wrong way round.'

  'Anything else?'

  'Not really. Well, there was a candle on the desk, which was a little unusual.'

  'But why should he want it there at the same time as he was mixing the ink?'

  The Countess shook her head helplessly.

 
; 'Well, all we can do is just keep an eye on him.'

  'One of us can't always be with him, not with all these guests here.'

  'Talking of guests, I think I'll enlist Tommy's help.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, in spite of all outward appearances to the contrary, I believe he might be quite a reliable sort of cove. And as he knows something about it already, I think to take him into our confidence to a certain extent, and ask him to help keep an unobtrusive eye on Daddy, might make him even less inclined to gossip about either the nettles or anything else he may notice that's odd.'

  'You know him better than I do, so I'll leave it to you. But it's true I knew a number of young men like Tommy before the war. Quite vacuous on the surface. But a lot of them ended up leading battalions and winning medals.'

  Chapter Thirty

  Wilkins leaned back in his chair, with a sigh. 'Well, that was very nice.'

  He and Leather had just finished lunch, which had consisted of cold tongue, salad and new potatoes, with cold apple tart and cream for sweet. 'Told you, didn't I?'

  Leather, who had been hoping for something with chips and tomato ketchup, finished up his coffee. 'Yes, it was OK. Could have done with a pint of bitter, though. So, what do we do now?'

  'Well, we've finished here for the moment. Have to go and check up on a lot of things, but can't leave straight away, or it'll look as if we just hung on to get a free lunch.'

  'Which, of course, we didn't.'

  'What I really need to do is just sit and think. There never seems to be the time.'

  At that moment, Gerry entered. 'Your HQ just phoned again, Mr Wilkins. I took it. They said it wasn't important to speak to you, but to warn you that the early edition of the London Evening News is splashing the murder all over its front page. So we can expect swarms of reporters outside the gates very soon, I suppose. Heaven knows how they found out so quickly.'