The Enemy in Our Midst: A Lord Charles Stewart Mystery

by Conley, John E.

  “Let’s begin with motive, sirs,” the Inspector said. “Without motive or, better yet, a confession, we may as well go home. Who is the Colonel’s heir?”

  “That seems to be an unanswered question, Inspector,” Charles admitted. “I believe Parker was going to speak to Calvert, a servant here, about that. But I have heard nothing on the topic since then. To my knowledge, there are no children and, of course, no living wife.”

  “We’ll need to talk to his solicitors, then. There must be a will,” Silsbury said. “The Colonel had sufficient money to make it tempting to anybody who thought they may have been in line to receive it. In the meantime, how about known enemies?”

  Charles grinned before saying, “Now, that may take a while to list them all, Silsbury. The Colonel could be one of the easiest men on earth to dislike. He was a Colonel, after all, in a very difficult battle of the war. Every man who ever served under him had cause to be considered his enemy. But if you were going to rank them, I’d have to say Alistair Cooper leads the list. They were known to have words even during this short reunion.”

  “Angry words are one thing; the mindset to commit a murder is quite another. Did Cooper have that?”

  “And then some,” Charles said promptly. “Quite the temper.”

  “The weapon was a knife?”

  “Yes,” said Charles quickly, but he managed to hold his tongue after a quick and significant look from Bingham. There was no need to divulge their information about ownership of the knife just yet.

  “Can we rule out that the Colonel was involved with another woman and that one of the men in attendance would be jealous about that?”

  “Not at the moment,” Charles replied. “And there is at least one jealous man in attendance. Stuart Meath. I assume you will interview everyone?”

  “Of course.”

  A long pause was broken when Silsbury said, “So, we have several men who disliked Humphries just enough to kill him, but for no other reason. Gentlemen, no crime in my twenty year career ever got solved on that amount of information. We have our work cut out for us.”

  Charles, in all his puttering around with local officials in Yorkshire, never considered it a competition between himself and them. But this case was going to be different. Here was a truly puzzling episode, being probed by a professional from the Yard. Charles was determined to get to the bottom of it before Silsbury.

  The Inspector excused himself, reminding Charles and Bingham that an inquest would most likely be held the next day. He said he was going to begin his interviews of the servants and guests, leaving Charles and Bingham alone in the library.

  “Alright, Bingham,” Charles said with enthusiasm. “It is time to get serious about this. We need to examine this room in minute detail and I suggest we start with the desk. You take the right side and I’ll take the left.”

  They took their positions behind the large, wood desk, both of them gazing at the desktop and the jumbled pile of papers on it.

  “Here’s a bill from Daphne’s market, right on top,” Charles said, picking up the document. “Nothing unusual there and you might expect that on top, considering the reunion and all.”

  Under that were other invoices, statements, and business letters, none of which gave Charles or Bingham any new information. Bingham was the first to open the top drawer on his side, followed quickly by Charles on his side. Nothing at all extraordinary was found until Bingham attempted to open the bottom drawer and found it locked.

  “Well, now. Here might be something,” he exclaimed. “Where’s the key?”

  Charles pulled open the center drawer at the top of the desk and, in a small receptacle on the right side, found two tiny keys.

  “Try this one,” Charles said, handing Bingham a key.

  When it failed, they tried the other. The lock turned with a click and Bingham opened the drawer. They both leaned over and peered inside.

  “Hullo! Good work, Bingham.”

  VII. The Interviews

  Bingham pulled out a stack of noticeably timeworn envelopes neatly tied together with a weathered string. After making sure nothing else was in the drawer, he closed it and laid the stack on the top of the desk. There appeared to be several dozen envelopes in all.

  “Well, Colonel Humphries, I hate to do this,” Charles said mournfully, “but I’m afraid we’re going to have to have a look at these.”

  Bingham was already untying the knot.

  Meanwhile, Silsbury was in the den starting the process of meeting with anyone who was in the manor the previous evening. Calvert was first. The old doorman sat rigidly, a look of stoic concern on his face.

  “Who did you see in or around the library before nine o’clock?” Silsbury asked.

  Calvert answered, “You have to understand, Inspector, that when the Colonel had gatherings like the one this week people are coming and going all day and into the night. After dinner last night I saw several people, but none of them were in the library to my knowledge.”

  “Did you see the Colonel in the library?”

  “The cook told me he was there,” Calvert said. “I didn’t see him or bother him myself.”

  Calvert was told by Silsbury to remain near the den in order to pass along the Inspector’s requests to see the staff and guests. His first assignment was to find the cook.

  Mrs. Collins was a woman of considerable girth and limited intellect. She sat across from Silsbury in an obvious state of discomfort, something quite common to Silsbury in these situations. His straight-forward approach did little to ease the woman’s mind.

  “Where were you after dinner and before nine o’clock, Mrs. Collins?”

  The woman fiddled with her handkerchief and said, “Why, I…I were in the kitchen, sir. That bein’ up til ‘bout eight thirty when I were done.”

  “Did you see anything suspicious before you left?” Silsbury asked.

  Mrs. Collins shook her head. “No, sir. Nuthin’ unusual. Naught heard a thing uncommon, either.”

  After a short pause, she sat up a little straighter and said, “Well, now come to think of it, I did hear the Colonel in the library. Sounded like he was talking to somebody. Kinda loud.”

  “The kitchen is close to the library?” Silsbury asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who else was there, Mrs. Collins?”

  “Why, Miss Daphne were in the kitchen, ‘course, helpin’ with things we needed,” Mrs. Collins said with the first sign of comfort on her face. “She’s an angel, she is, sir. Oh, and ‘course Mr. Leatherby was with her.”

  The cook looked sideways at the Inspector with a hint of guilt on her face. “Them two are always together, you see. The man follows the poor girl like a puppy. They was together when I left the kitchen.”

  “At eight thirty,” Silsbury confirmed.

  “That’s right, sir.”

  Alistair Cooper was called into the den and Silsbury studied the large, brawny man who Silsbury guessed was in his early thirties. Although he knew nothing of Cooper’s private life, Silsbury presumed this was a working man, possibly doing manual labor, and certainly not a leader of men. Cooper’s large, dark eyes penetrated the Inspector as he sat and waited.

  “Mr. Cooper,” Silsbury began slowly, “can you tell me how you came to be at the Colonel’s manor this week.”

  “I was invited,” was the immediate, short response.

  “How did the invitation describe the purpose for the gathering?”

  “It was a reunion of the Seventh Battalion.”

  “Did you know who else was coming?” Silsbury asked, doing the best he could to loosen up Cooper with simple questions.

  “No clue. But I knew who was in the Seventh and wasn’t surprised when I saw who was here.”

  Silsbury paused before saying, “I was not present, of course, but I learned of some words between you and other guests yesterday afternoon. Can you describe for me what happened?”

  Cooper bit his lower lip and stared out a window
for a few seconds before turning back to Silsbury. He said, “Stuart Meath is an ass. The man always thought he was so much better than anybody else. He thought every woman should hold out her hand and wait for him to take her away.”

  Silsbury watched silently as Cooper took a cigar out of a nearby box and lit it. Then Cooper continued: “Helen, his wife, is a modern girl, Inspector, and doesn’t think it’s wrong to talk to another man. Her and I have talked while we’ve been here and Meath gets all heated about it. He’s an ass.”

  “What do you talk about…with Helen?” Silsbury said.

  Cooper puffed on the cigar. “I don’t believe our private conversations should concern you, Inspector.”

  “Everything that took place here before the murder concerns me, Mr. Cooper,” Silsbury replied sharply. “Did Mr. Meath threaten you?”

  Cooper laughed. “He knew if he struck me he’d regret it. He’s all talk.”

  “And did you have words with Colonel Humphries?”

  The smile left Cooper’s face and Silsbury saw one of Cooper’s hands unconsciously roll into a clenched fist. Cooper’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened before he said, “As much as Humphries and I had it out verbally in the war, there are still things he said and did to me that no man had the right to do. I wanted him to know that. I may not be the smartest man on earth, Inspector, but I have a good memory.”

  Silsbury let Cooper’s anger pass for a moment. Then he asked, “Where were you at nine o’clock last night?”

  A long pause ensued.

  “I’m not going to answer that.”

  The Inspector stared at Cooper. “Mr. Cooper, let me remind you that a murder was committed around that time.”

  “And I wasn’t there.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I won’t tell you. I don’t have to tell you.”

  Silsbury said, “That leaves you in an awkward position in the eyes of the law, Mr. Cooper.”

  “So be it.”

  The Inspector realized he had more than enough time to pursue this line of questioning in the near future. Cooper was excused and Silsbury followed him with his eyes, wondering exactly what game the large man was playing.

  Stuart Meath, upon being called into the den a few moments later, struck Silsbury as the handsomest man he’d ever seen. Dressed nattily in dark trousers and jacket, he had the air of a gentleman without the title to go with it.

  “Good day, Mr. Meath,” Silsbury said upon introduction. “Sorry to disturb you like this but, of course, the situation being what it is I hope you’ll understand.”

  “Of course, Inspector.”

  “When did you arrive at Stichen Manor, Mr. Meath?”

  “Tuesday or Wednesday. Wednesday, I guess it was,” Meath said while pouring a drink and standing by a table near the window.

  “What was the general mood among the guests and Colonel Humphries from then until yesterday?” Silsbury inquired.

  “I think most of us were somewhat surprised at the invitation,” Meath said between sips of brandy. “I hadn’t talked to most of the men from the Seventh since the war and many others said the same.”

  “Who were the exceptions? I mean, which of the men HAD communicated with each other?”

  Meath thought for a moment. “Well, I heard that Leatherby was in this part of Yorkshire quite a bit. But we all know the reason for that. Besides his courting of Daphne, he’s very much into genealogy. He probably knows more about the people in Yorkshire than they do. Anyway, I think Leatherby and the Colonel would have talked, perhaps often.

  “And I guess Parker had some type of deal going with Humphries, or wanted some type of deal. I’m not much into those kind of business affairs, you understand.”

  “Are you financially secure, Mr. Meath?”

  “I am. I’m in line to inherit a good sum from my father someday, Inspector. Helen and I are quite secure.”

  Silsbury said, “Tell me about your wife, Mr. Meath.”

  Meath collected his thoughts and replied, “She’s the perfect wife, of course. Very beautiful and smart. She understands me completely.”

  “In what way?”

  “I own a couple businesses outside York, Inspector,” Meath explained. “I would like to expand and in that endeavor it is necessary for me to meet and mingle with certain men and women of status. Helen lets me do that without question and with total trust. She’s a perfect business partner as well as wife.”

  Silsbury debated whether to pose the next question, decided in favor, and asked, “Do you return that same trust in her?”

  Meath held his drink steady as he leaned on the window sill and stared at the Inspector. “She can talk to any man she wants…with the single exception of Alistair Cooper.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Simply…he’s an ass. The man is classless and lecherous.”

  Silsbury was willing to let Meath continue, but Meath only drank and waited for the next question.

  “You threatened him yesterday?”

  “I did.”

  “For what reason?”

  “For being an ass. He was harassing Helen. And it wasn’t the first time since we’ve been here.”

  “After dinner,” the inspector said, “what did you do?”

  “I was in my room.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes,” Meath said somewhat defiantly.

  Helen Meath followed her husband and Silsbury studied her closely as she settled into a large chair by the fireplace. She wore a sleeveless, knee-length dress and looked impeccable in every aspect of her appearance. This was not a meek woman, the Inspector concluded.

  “So sorry for the inconvenience, Mrs. Meath, but it IS necessary,” Silsbury began.

  “Please call me Helen, Inspector,” she replied.

  Silsbury nodded.

  “It must have come as quite a shock when you heard of the Colonel’s murder,” he said.

  “Oh, quite,” she said. “So pointless, I would think. I mean, who would have any reason to kill Colonel Humphries?”

  “It’s why I’m here, unfortunately. But there’s always a reason, Mrs….Helen. Do you have an opinion yourself?”

  Helen tugged on the dress covering her crossed legs and said, “Of course not. I wouldn’t begin to know who would do such a thing. It’s too dreadful.”

  “Has your husband ever hinted at any bad blood between the Colonel and any of the men he served with?”

  “Certainly,” she replied quickly. “Stuart said the war was terrible…which is to be expected…and that all of them, at times, had a reason to dislike the Colonel. But some more than others, I suppose.”

  “Who?”

  “Stuart has told me stories about Mr. Parker and Mr. Leatherby and Alistair.”

  Silsbury looked up from his notes. He thought he recognized on her face the recognition of what she had just said.

  “Tell me about Alistair Cooper, Helen.”

  She fumbled again with the hem of her dress and said, “I only know what Stuart has told me.”

  “But you’ve talked to Mr. Cooper while you were here, have you not?”

  “Of course. I’ve talked to everybody who is here.”

  “May I ask the topic of those conversations?” Silsbury asked.

  Helen paused, thought for a moment, and replied, “He was simply asking about my family.”

  “Your family. Does he know your family?”

  Helen’s expression changed markedly when she said abruptly, “He was simply being kind, Inspector.”

  “Is that how Stuart interpreted it?”

  Helen’s entire body stiffened. “That is between myself and Stuart, Mr. Silsbury.”

  Silsbury nodded and said, “What did you do after dinner last night?”

  She played nervously with the bow at the throat of her dress and looked down at the floor. Silsbury had seen enough witnesses in the box do the same thing to instantly recognize a woman trying to hide something.

  “I
was with Stuart.”

  “The entire time?”

  “Y-yes, of course.”

  Silsbury watched her fidgeting in the chair. He knew it wasn’t the truth but didn’t know how far he could go with the questions before losing her willingness to answer.

  “Mrs. Meath, your husband told me he was alone in his room.”

  He saw her eyes fill with tears and Helen pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of her dress. She clutched it tightly.

  “I was there. I was with him,” she said on the verge of crying.

  “Where were you, Mrs. Meath? Who were you really with after dinner?”

  Helen buried her face in her hands and covered her eyes with the handkerchief. Her troubled moans filled the den and Silsbury let her weep for several moments. Slowly, she regained some composure.

  Then she sobbed, “I…I was…with Alistair.”

  It was several minutes later, after Helen Meath composed herself and left the den, that Silsbury chose to call in George Parker. The stark difference between the distraught Helen Meath and the energetic, smiling Parker made the Inspector shake his head in wonder at the nuances of his line of work. He reminded himself of the dual investigative role he was now in regarding Parker: his business dealings with the Colonel and his whereabouts at the time of the murder.

  “How did you first come about approaching the Colonel on business matters, Mr. Parker?”

  Parker had already helped himself to a cigar and sat in the same chair as Helen Meath while lighting it and relaxing.

  “Quite by accident, Inspector,” Parker said. “As you may not know, I’ve kept in touch with Malcolm Leatherby since the war and I knew that ol’ Leatherby spent time in Danby during the past year or two. I got a letter from him one time that gave me the impression he thought the Colonel may have accumulated a tidy sum of money. This was all because of the Colonel’s wife, you see.”

  Parker paused to smoke, then said, “So, of course, in my business you can’t afford to let any possible investor go without at least giving him a chance to hear you out. I wrote the Colonel and he said he’d be willing to talk. He wanted details, naturally. So, I sent him some and said I would contact him the next time I was in Yorkshire.”