by T E Kinsey
The door was answered by a small woman of late middle age wearing a housecoat and headscarf.
‘Yes?’ she said suspiciously. ‘What do you want?’
‘Is Mr Tressle at home?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘What if he is?’
‘I’d like to speak with him if I may.’
‘I don’t allow my lodgers no lady visitors. This is a respectable house.’ She made to close the door.
Lady Hardcastle took a card from her silver case and handed it to the landlady. ‘Please give him my card and tell him I’d like to speak to him. Tell him it’s about... the Littleton Cotterell Cricket Club.’
The fearsome woman took the card and glanced at it. Her manner changed instantly. ‘Oh. Oh, come in your ladyship,’ she gushed. ‘Cricket club, you say? Please wait in the best parlour and I shall tell Mr Tressle you’re here. Can I get you something? Tea, perhaps? Or something a little stronger?’ She grinned a gap-toothed grin.
‘Thank you, no. You’re very kind but I’ve only recently had some tea. Just fetch Mr Tressle for me, please.’
We followed the woman into the house and she showed us into the tiny front room, then she hurried out and clumped up the stairs.
A few moments later, a neatly dressed young man with thinning hair appeared at the door. He squinted through grimy spectacles at the calling card he’d been given.
‘Lady Hardcastle?’ he said, looking at each of us.
‘That’s me,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘This is my maid, Armstrong.’
‘Pleased to meet you both, I’m sure. Mrs Grout said you’d come about the cricket club. You haven’t come about the cricket club, have you?’
‘No, Mr Tressle, I haven’t. Shall we sit down?’
They each sat on one of the two overstuffed armchairs while I stood beside Lady Hardcastle.
‘Is it about... you know... Frank Pickering?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it is. You know that Bill Lovell has been charged with his murder?’ she said.
‘I knew he’d been arrested.’
‘But you knew he didn’t do it?’
‘I didn’t think he could have, no.’
‘Because you knew who it was? Was it you, Mr Tressle?’
‘Me? How dare you come in here and say such things.’
‘I know that you and he had a fight about him taking over the cricket club in the Dog and Duck the night he was killed. You were heard saying that you’d not let him do it. I think you followed him out, strangled him with your scarf and then took his body to the woods using the handcart from the inn. How did you get him up into the tree, Mr Tressle? That’s what’s puzzling me.’
‘I did no such thing. Who told you we argued about the cricket club? Daisy?’
‘I spoke to her on Tuesday afternoon,’ I said. ‘Both she and Joe Arnold were adamant that you’d had a fight.’
‘Oh, I didn’t say we’d not had a fight,’ he chuckled mirthlessly. ‘Just not about the club, that’s all.’
‘About Daisy?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘That strumpet? I’d not touch her with gloves on. Have you considered it might be her? That she might be trying to divert the blame?’
‘What was the fight about, Mr Tressle,’ said Lady Hardcastle, firmly.
‘It was a confidential business matter,’ he said.
‘Business? What business did you and Mr Pickering have?’
He looked slightly disbelieving for a second. ‘We worked together, Lady Hardcastle. I’m a clerk at Seddon, Seddon and Seddon.’
We sat in stunned silence for a few moments.
‘Why,’ she said eventually, and with some exasperation, ‘did no one think to tell me that before? Armstrong? Did you know?’
‘No, my lady,’ I said, deciding against my initial, more flippant reply.
‘Please tell me,’ she said when she had collected herself, ‘exactly what happened that evening.’
‘We had our meeting at the Dog and Duck and we all got a little drunk,’ he began.
‘What was the meeting about?’ she asked.
‘Arrangements for the club’s annual supper dance,’
‘Give me strength,’ she said. ‘I’d been given the impression it was some sort of coup.’
He laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. With our business concluded, we settled down for a few more convivial drinks. That’s when Bill Lovell comes and has a go at Frank.’
‘Yes, we heard about that. What next?’
‘Then Frank and I has our... our private discussion–’
‘Your argument.’
‘Things did get a little bit heated, yes. Then Frank leaves, and we stays to have one more before home time. We leaves the pub in good time but a couple of the lads gets into some tomfoolery on the green–’
‘They stole Mr Arnold’s handcart,’ interrupted Lady Hardcastle.
‘They did, yes. We ended up larking about at the cricket pavilion and by the time I looked at my watch I was too late to get to Chipping Bevington for the last train home so I kipped down on the dressing room floor. I’ve done it before and I don’t doubt I’ll have to do it again.’
‘And you didn’t see Frank at all?’
‘Not after he left the pub, no.’
‘What was your argument about, Mr Tressle?’ she asked, kindly. ‘I really must know. If it has anything to do with what happened to him...’
‘Look, I can tell you if you think it will help, but when I say it’s a confidential business matter, I mean it. It would ruin lives if it got out.’
‘If it helps to save a man’s life, it might have to come out anyway, but I give you my word that I shall keep it in the utmost confidence if I possibly can.’
He sighed. ‘Very well. Frank was the senior clerk at Seddons and he’d taken it upon himself to review some of our bookkeeping practices. He had it in mind that we could increase profits if we kept better track of our receipts and payments. In his own time he’d been going through the ledgers – stacks of them. Weeks it had taken him.
‘And then one day he starts looking anxious and distracted. Really in a state about something. So I asks him what’s the matter and he says he can’t tell me. It gets worse for a few days until he finally says he needs to talk to someone and would I meet him in a pub down by the Centre after work.
‘So I meets him there and we’re drinking our beers and he suddenly says, “We’re in trouble, Art.” And I says, “What do you mean, trouble? What kind of trouble?” And he says, “It’s Seddons. I’ve found something in the books. Someone’s embezzling. Hundreds. They’ve covered their tracks, or they think they have, but nothing adds up. The firm’s almost bankrupt, Art.” And I says, “Blimey.” Well, what else could I say, really? So I says, “Blimey, have you spoken to Mr Seddon about it?” And he says, “No, do you think I ought.” And I says, “Well you’ve got to, a’n’t you. You’ve got to say something if we’re about to go under.” And he just sits there looking like he’s been poleaxed. Then he says, “You’re right, Art. I’ll go round his house tonight. Drink up and I can get the next train.” And then off we goes.’
‘Langdon mentioned that visit,’ I said. ‘He said he didn’t think it went well.’
‘Mr Seddon’s valet? Nice bloke. No, it didn’t go well. Next day me and Frank found somewhere private to talk and I asked him what had happened. He says, “I told Mr Seddon what I’d found and he just looked at me blank like he didn’t want to believe it. Then he tells me not to breathe a word to anyone. So I asked what we were going to do and he said it was none of my concern and how dare I come to his home in the middle of the evening and start questioning how he runs his business. And I said I was only trying to help and he says I’ve helped quite enough thank you and tells me to get out. So I got out.”’
‘Slamming the door as he went, according to Langdon,’ I said.
‘I shouldn’t be surprised if he did. So then I says, “Well what’s next, Frank?” And he says, “I’ve got to go to the police
, a’n’t I?” And I says, “But if it all gets out, the firm will be ruined and we’ll all be out on our ears.” And he says, “And what if it gets out and they find out I knew and didn’t say anything. I i’n’t going to gaol to cover up for no embezzlers.” I begged him to sleep on it, and to his credit he left it a few days, but when we met up at the Dog and Duck that night he says he’s made up his mind and he’s going to the police next day. That was the row. I lost my rag, I can’t deny it. I knew if it all came out I’d lose my job, and who’s going to employ a clerk from a firm that collapsed through embezzlement? I told him not to do it.’
‘And threatened him,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘We all say things like that all the time. If everyone who ever threatened to kill someone actually went through with it, you’d be pretty lonely, I reckon. Most of the people you’d ever known would have been murdered and the rest hanged for killing them. But then he grabs me by the shoulders and leans in and says all quiet like, “I know who did it. I worked it out. I’m going to give them one last chance to come clean then I’m going to the law and neither you nor they can stop me. Support me, Art,” he says. “Back me up. You’re my oldest friend there. We’ve got to do the right thing.” Then some of Old Joe’s mates step in and pull us apart. So Frank sits down, then that dizzy trollop Daisy comes over, then he looks at his watch like he’s got an appointment and that’s the last I saw of him.’
Lady Hardcastle looked at each other in silence.
She finally spoke. ‘Mr Tressle, would you like to free an innocent man from gaol?
‘If I can,’ he said.
‘It may mean the financial collapse of your employers.’
‘Now I’ve come to tell the story to someone else, I can see he was probably right. But how will it help free Bill Lovell?’
‘You, my dear Mr Tressle, have just told us who the murderer is. Armstrong, tell Bert to turn the car around. Mr Tressle, fetch your hat. We’re going to pay an unannounced call on Mr Seddon.’
Once we were out of the city the roads were clear and Bert was overjoyed with the opportunity to drive the car as quickly as it would go.
‘Lady Farley-Stroud is a bit nervous of the motor car,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘She doesn’t like me to drive this quickly.’
‘This, my dear Bert,’ shouted Lady Hardcastle over the noise of the straining engine, ‘is a matter of life and death. To the Seddon house in Chipping Bevington and don’t spare the horses.’
As we careered along the Gloucester Road, Lady Hardcastle gave Mr Tressle and me our orders and it wasn’t much longer before we were almost there. When we were about a hundred yards from the house, Lady Hardcastle had Bert stop the car and let her and me out.
‘We’ll wait here for fifteen minutes,’ she told him, ‘and then go in. You two hurry back to Littleton Cotterell and fetch Sergeant Dobson and Constable Hancock. Bring them back to the house as fast as you can.’
We stood hidden behind a large tree beside the road, with Lady Hardcastle consulting her wrist watch every few moments. At last she nodded, and we walked to the gates of the Seddon house. We walked across the drive, then I made my way round the side of the house to the servants’ entrance, leaving Lady Hardcastle to ring the front door bell. I hurried towards the kitchen.
A very surprised Mrs Birch let me in.
‘I’m so sorry to intrude, Mrs Birch. The game, as they say in the stories, is afoot. Might I impose upon the hospitality of your delightful scullery for a few moments until the time comes for me to play my part?’
‘Of course, dear,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘But what the deuce is going on?’
‘All will be explained in the fullness of time, Mrs Birch, I promise.’
I stood by the door that led into the main house, listening to what was going on in the entrance hall. As Langdon had already said, it was difficult to hear much from other parts of the house, but I was certain I’d heard Langdon announcing Lady Hardcastle and, after a brief exchange in the hall, their footsteps as they went into one of the rooms. I gave it a few moments more to make sure the way was clear and then slipped out.
‘Thank you, Mrs Birch,’ I whispered over my shoulder. ‘I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.’
I tiptoed along the passageway, listening carefully for sounds of conversation. As promised, Lady Hardcastle had made sure her confrontation was in the dining room and I stood quietly outside the partly open door, listening. Mr Seddon’s voice bristled with indignation.
‘...mean by bursting in here unannounced?’
‘I didn’t think it could wait,’ said Lady Hardcastle, coldly.
‘Didn’t think what could wait. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Oh come, Mr Seddon, let’s stop playing games. I know you were stealing from the firm. Why was that? To try to keep up with your wife’s vulgar taste in clothes? I know Frank Pickering knew, too. I know he confronted you. I know you lured him to a meeting late last Tuesday night. I know you strangled him with your scarf. I know you carried his body to Combe Woods on a handcart you found near the cricket pavilion. I know...’
I missed what else she knew because I was somewhat distracted by the distinctive click of a revolver being cocked and the all-too-familiar feel of its barrel being thrust into my ribs. Even through the sensation-deadening embrace of my corset, I’d never forget that feeling.
‘I think you’d better join your mistress,’ hissed Mrs Seddon, ‘don’t you?’ She jabbed the revolver into my ribs again, propelling me through the door and into the dining room.
‘Look what I found in the hall,’ she said to her husband, all traces of the upper class veneer disappearing from her voice. ‘Lady Muck’s lackey doing a bit of snooping.’
She waved the gun to indicate that I should join Lady Hardcastle by the dining table.
‘Oh, Ida, what have you done now?’ said Mr Seddon, despairingly.
‘Just another bit of tidying up after your mess. It seems I has to do everything round here.’
‘Everything?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘You mean you–’
‘You think that wet rag could do anything practical?’ she sneered.
‘He manages to run a successful shipping agency.’
‘He managed to run it all right. But he didn’t have the sense to take what was his from it. “Investing in the future,” he says. “Rewarding loyal service,” he says. “That’s where the profits go,” he says. Well what about my future? What about my loyal service? You think I married into this carnival freak show of a family for love? Sharing a marriage bed with that feeble oaf? You think I did that out of passion. I wanted my just rewards. I earn everything I get.’
‘So you bullied him into stealing from his own firm?’
‘Bullied, dearie? He’d do anything for what I can offer him.’ She crudely hoisted her impressive bosom.
‘And when Mr Pickering threatened to cut off your funds by reporting the theft to the police...?’
‘Yes, your lady-hoity-toity-ship, I got rid of him. Choked the interfering life out of him with a very expensive silk scarf from Paris and then strung him up in an oak tree. All carefully planned it was. Nothing could go wrong. Not until you started poking your beak in.’
‘Excellent work,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Apart from tying him too high so his feet couldn’t reach the log. Oh, and not leaving an impression in the ground from the log. Other than that, an exemplary effort.’
‘Details. The police would never have noticed anything like that. You’re an interfering snooper too, i’n’t you. And I reckon you know now what happens to them.’
‘I believe so, yes. But satisfy my curiosity. Even when I realized who had killed poor Mr Pickering – and I confess I wasn’t quite sure which of you it was until I got here – I couldn’t for the life of me fathom how you’d managed to get the body into the tree. Even from the handcart it was quite a feat.’
Mrs Seddon looked up at the memorabilia on the wall and
Lady Hardcastle followed her gaze. ‘Of course,’ she said at last. ‘The block and tackle. That display isn’t asymmetrical by design, it’s because there’s a piece missing. We should have noticed that, Armstrong.’
‘I noticed, my lady,’ I said, shifting my weight slightly and balancing on the balls of my feet. ‘I thought that’s why you wanted your meeting to be in here.’
‘Did you, indeed? Well done. Well done. And so it was. And what happened to the block, Mrs Seddon? And the scarf? Why couldn’t we find those?’
‘In the coal hole till things had quietened down. But I’ll have two bodies to dispose of after tonight, so I’ll probably get rid of them then.’
‘You’re a very clever and meticulous woman, Mrs Seddon. I congratulate you on the thoroughness of your planning. Isn’t she good, Armstrong?’
‘Very accomplished, my lady,’ I said.
‘And you, Mr Seddon? You had no part in this?’ said Lady Hardcastle.
He sighed. ‘No. He came to me and told me he knew, but I thought I’d dealt with it. I thought he was going to be a gentleman about it and that we could sort things out without anyone being any the wiser.’
‘You pathetic worm,’ spat Mrs Seddon. ‘I swear if I didn’t need to keep up appearances I’d be finding a hole big enough for three. You’re a usel–’
Her rant was interrupted by the creaking of a floorboard outside the door.
The next few things happened in something of a blur. The listeners at the door realized that they’d been tumbled and began to make their hasty way inside. Mrs Seddon turned towards them, levelling her pistol. She fired at Sergeant Dobson but at the instant she pulled the trigger, my right foot connected with her wrist with a satisfyingly loud crack of breaking bone that could be heard even over the report of the gun. Dobson fell to the ground, unhurt but wisely getting out of the way of more shots, while I grabbed Mrs Seddon’s broken wrist, wrenching her towards me and smashing my open palm into her nose. Blood gushed. She collapsed. And Constable Hancock said, ‘Ida Seddon I am arresting you for the murder of Mr Frank Pickering. Oh. Well, I’ll be sure to tell you again when you wakes up.’