by Diane Janes
‘And of course,’ Fran hastened on, feeling somehow that she had led the conversation up an awkward cul-de-sac, ‘it was not so very lonely at Sunnyside House. There were always plenty of visitors and I believe you had a friend in Miss Billington.’
‘Ah, yes. Poor Miss Billington, having to cope with that monster Imogen.’ Miss Roche grimaced at the remembrance of the child. ‘I do not envy Miss Billington one little bit.’
‘Imogen is a rather difficult girl.’
‘Miss Billington is trapped in an impossible situation.’
‘But surely,’ Fran demurred, ‘if she was unhappy in her position, she could give notice?’
‘She cannot possibly give notice and seek another situation, unless Lady Edgerton provides her with a good reference.’
‘But why ever wouldn’t she? I thought Miss Billington a most competent governess.’
‘Which is why Lady Edgerton will do everything in her power to ensure that Miss Billington remains at Sunnyside House.’ A note of bitterness had entered Miss Roche’s voice. ‘I assure you that these families have no scruples whatsoever about holding on to people who are useful to them. Firstly the Edgertons know how difficult it would be to find someone willing to take on a child like that; secondly they won’t want gossip circulating, via their ex-governess, that Imogen is uncontrollable or off her head. Miss Billington is well and truly trapped. Only a complete change in her personal circumstances would facilitate an escape.’
‘Oh dear, I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ said Fran. Deciding that a change of subject was advisable, she continued: ‘And there was another friend, wasn’t there? The one with whom you spent your afternoon, the day that Mr Edgerton died.’
‘A short-lived friendship,’ said Miss Roche.
‘May I ask who this person was?’ asked Fran, who knew perfectly well, but was intrigued by the rumours of a possible romance.
Miss Roche flushed. ‘I rather feel like saying that you may not, but since that might create undue suspicion, I will tell you that it was a Mr Moncrieff, who was in service with the family at Baddeley Court.’
‘I thought you told me that the person who collected you had a motor car.’
‘Mr Moncrieff was the Baddeleys’ chauffeur. He was sometimes permitted to use one of their motor cars on his day off.’
‘And you became friendly with him while working at Sunnyside House?’
Miss Roche was stony-faced. ‘Mr Moncrieff and I had an acquaintance. It is impossible, I’m afraid, to avoid gossip and speculation in any medium-sized or large establishment. I regret to say that the servant class are always overly interested in everyone else’s private life and I think some inaccurate assumptions may have been made regarding myself and Mr Moncrieff.’
‘I see.’ Fran again tried and failed to engage her companion in a smile. ‘I notice that you spoke of his employment with the Baddeleys in the past tense.’
‘That is correct. Like myself, Mr Moncrieff was approaching retirement. He had been promised a small pension and a cottage on the Baddeley estate and I believe he has now stood down from his post and turned his hand to growing vegetables, which seemed to be the summit of his ambitions.’
‘Mr Moncrieff is single, I assume.’
‘You assume correctly.’
‘But perhaps he had hopes …’ Fran left the statement hanging in the air.
‘If you are trying to suggest that something of a romance existed between myself and Mr Moncrieff, then I can assure you that it most definitely did not.’
TWENTY-SIX
After her tea and crumpets with Miss Roche, Fran took herself for a brisk walk along the Embankment, towards Cleopatra’s Needle and the extravagant bulk of the Hotel Cecil. Miss Roche’s story of the fire had given her pause for thought. Suppose old Mr Edgerton had been right about someone trying to kill him? Was it just a coincidence that his son Charles had been staying at Sunnyside House both at the time of the fire and when the wheelchair went over the cliff?
Charles and Dolly Edgerton remained a missing link in the investigation. She had already looked up their address in the London telephone directory, but what possible pretext could she use for calling on them? Whatever excuse she managed to invent, any visit would be sure to get back to the Edgertons, which was potentially embarrassing. After all, the Edgertons had taken her into their home and treated her as a friend and Eddie … well, Eddie would be justifiably upset by any deception on her part.
On the other hand, what if she was open with Eddie? Eddie had declared himself willing to do anything for her and if she took him into her confidence, might he not be able to organize an introduction to his uncle? She paused to allow for the passage of a tram, before crossing the road and turning purposefully back to her hotel. Then she remembered that the hotel would mark up the cost of any trunk call on her bill and decided to use a public telephone box instead. It would be quicker too.
The call, when it was eventually connected, was answered by Jamieson. ‘Oh no, Mrs Black. I’m afraid that Mr Edward is not at home. Miss Henrietta is at home, if you wish me to fetch her to the telephone?’
‘Oh … er … no … please don’t trouble her. Can you tell me when he will be back?’
‘Not until the day after tomorrow, madam. He is staying at his club in London.’
‘I see. I am in London myself. Can you tell me which is his club?’
‘It’s the Bath Club, madam.’
‘Oh dear, I don’t know where that is.’
‘It’s in Dover Street, madam. Just off Piccadilly.’
‘Oh, thank you, Jamieson. You’ve been most helpful.’
The Bath Club was only a short walk away. I can leave him a note, she thought, and he can call me at my hotel. I can tear a page out of my notebook. Then again, they were sure to have some notepaper available at the desk.
Only as she turned the corner and approached the front door of Eddie’s club did it occur to Fran that they probably did not admit women – perhaps not even to leave messages. She had slowed her pace in anticipation of this problem when none other than Eddie himself appeared, bowling down the front steps in his usual exuberant fashion. He saw her at once. ‘Fran!’
‘Hello, Eddie.’
‘What are you doing here? Don’t say you were coming to see me?’
‘Actually I was.’
‘How absolutely splendid! No point in asking my favourite lady detective how she tracked me down.’
‘There’s no mystery about it.’ Fran laughed. ‘I telephoned Sunnyside House and Jamieson told me where you were.’
‘Did you want to speak to me about something special? Well, yes – damn silly question – of course you must have done, or you wouldn’t have telephoned. Is it – dare I ask – your answer …?’
‘No, no,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s nothing like that. You see, well … It’s like this … Once I’m on the trail of a mystery, I don’t … can’t … just give up. And … and I don’t believe your grandfather fell accidentally.’
‘So you are still investigating,’ Eddie finished for her, his expression giving away nothing.
‘I went to see Miss Roche this morning,’ she confessed. ‘I want to talk with your uncle Charles and his wife too, and I need your help in getting to speak with them, but also, I didn’t want to go behind your back. I really hope you don’t think too badly of me. I know the rest of your family want me to desist from asking any more questions.’
Eddie digested this for a moment or two before saying, ‘So you haven’t really pursued me to London because you can’t bear to live another day without me? Ah well, I guessed as much. But at least you can dine with me this evening.’
‘Oh no, I can’t,’ protested Fran. ‘I’m still waiting for my decree absolute, you see. I can’t just go about, dining with other men. Besides which, you must have plans already. Why are you in London?’
‘I had proposed to meet a few friends for dinner and then go and listen to the new pianist at the Littl
e Lotus Club in Soho. He’s fresh over from Chicago and I haven’t heard him yet. They say he’s jolly good.’
‘Then of course you must go and meet your friends.’
‘Rubbish. I fully intend to cancel and have dinner with you.’
‘But I’ve already explained that’s out of the question.’
‘Come now, do you want to go and meet my uncle and aunt this afternoon or not? As you admitted yourself, you need me to make the arrangements, but only a promise of dinner this evening is going to get you into their company.’
‘But that’s not fair.’
‘I think you’ll find that all’s fair in love and war.’
Fran hesitated. If she went to dinner with Eddie, who could possibly know? Besides which, the prospect of his company was much more alluring than the thought of a lonely evening at her hotel.
‘Come on,’ he said, sensing her acquiescence. ‘Let’s go back inside and I’ll use the club telephone to make sure that Charles and Dolly are at home.’
They took a cab to the modern block where Charles Edgerton and his wife had their apartment. An enclosed lift conveyed them to the third floor, where a uniformed maid answered their summons on the doorbell and showed them into a drawing room which had been furnished in the latest style, so that it looked more like a stage set than a room in which someone actually lived. The sole occupant of the room was a tall, middle-aged man, running to fat, who rose to greet them.
While Eddie performed the introductions, Fran took in the fact that Dolly was not present. It was equally impossible not to notice that a faintly awkward air hung over the party. The two men initially did the talking, exchanging news of their various relatives with one very obvious exception, until Eddie said, ‘And how is Dolly? Will she be joining us?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Charles looked extremely uncomfortable.
Fran had also observed that Charles Edgerton appeared to be rather flushed, as if he were finding the room uncomfortably warm.
‘Oh dear. Don’t tell me she’s unwell?’
‘No. At least … not so far as I know.’
‘Is she … out somewhere?’
‘You could put it like that, I suppose. No point beating about the bush and I dare say it will soon get around. Dolly has left me.’
Eddie was momentarily silenced. After a moment, he said, ‘Well, I’m most frightfully sorry to hear that.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Charles Edgerton stood up abruptly and crossed the room to the sideboard, where he helped himself to a whisky from the decanter, without bothering to offer anyone else a drink. ‘You all despised Dolly, you know you did.’
‘Oh, now, Uncle Charles, that’s not entirely fair,’ Eddie protested, while Fran wished the ground would swallow her up. She had envisaged that her interview with Charles and Dolly might be awkward, but this far surpassed her expectations.
‘And now I suppose you’ve come to announce your engagement.’
‘Not at all. Why ever would you think that?’
‘Since when have you been in the habit of paying social calls on me – and with a young lady in tow? What I am supposed to think? Well, you treat her properly if you want to hang on to her, that’s my advice. These modern young women won’t stand for the sort of nonsense which went on in the old days, I can tell you.’
‘Uncle Charles, I really don’t think this is a fit topic—’
‘Nonsense, boy! Mrs Black, you said her name was. So she’s not some innocent young flower maiden, is she?’
It had become apparent to Fran that this was by no means Charles Edgerton’s first drink of the day.
Eddie was about to protest more forcibly, but his uncle gave him no time. ‘It’s my own fault,’ he said, waving his glass in their direction. ‘She was a good little woman, Dolly, my own good little girl, but I played fast and loose with her affections, you see. It’s all my own fault,’ he repeated. ‘I’d do it all differently, given the chance. I want her back, but she won’t listen to me. “No more chances,” she said. Told me I’d humiliated her. Said she could put up with my toffee-nosed family, but she wouldn’t put up with any more flings.’ He gestured the glass in Eddie’s direction again. ‘Toffee-nosed, that’s what she called you.’
‘Well,’ said Eddie. ‘She’s probably quite right. I say, Uncle Charles, I can’t help feeling that you shouldn’t have another drink just yet. You see, Mrs Black wants to ask you some questions.’
His uncle did not appear to have heard. Pivoting back towards the sideboard in a somewhat unsteady fashion, he picked up the glass stopper belonging to the decanter and regarded it uncertainly. ‘Dear, sweet Dolly. I do miss her, you know.’
‘Yes,’ Eddie began, but Fran silenced him with a swift glance. Under the circumstances it felt pretty much impossible to frame any questions, not least because Charles Edgerton was becoming less coherent by the minute.
‘If you were to give us Dolly’s address,’ she suggested, ‘then we could go and tell her that you want her to come back and are promising to turn over a new leaf.’
‘That’s jolly civil of you. Go and see her, you say? The feminine touch, smoothing things over and all that?’ A new idea seemed to strike him. ‘D’you want a quick snifter, before you go? Bit of Dutch courage, eh?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary. But if you could just give us her address.’
‘Address?’ Charles glanced down at the glass stopper again, almost as if he was surprised to find it in his hand. ‘Dolly’s address? She’s gone back to her brother’s house: 23 Shenstone Hill in Croydon.’
‘Thank you.’ Fran rose to her feet and Eddie followed suit.
‘I am so sorry,’ he said, as soon as they had put the lift doors between themselves and Charles Edgerton. ‘I knew Uncle Charles was fond of a drink, but I never imagined that he would be in such a state in the middle of the afternoon. He gave me no indication that there was any problem when I telephoned.’
‘Please, don’t think anything of it at all.’
‘And you haven’t had any chance to question him.’
‘I think he was fast becoming too intoxicated to answer me sensibly, don’t you?’
‘Then you will need to return at some point, I suppose. You had better let me come with you. I don’t want you being alone with such a boor.’
‘I don’t believe it will be necessary to question him. I’m much more interested in speaking with his wife.’
‘Dolly? But surely my uncle was alone and unaccounted for, whereas Dolly was playing tennis with me?’
‘Your uncle was not alone. I have good reason to believe that he spent most of the afternoon in bed with one of the housemaids.’ There, it was out in the open. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks, as she avoided his eye, resolutely facing the lift doors as they slid apart.
Eddie swallowed hard. ‘My word, but you do get to the bottom of things, don’t you? How frightfully sordid.’
‘It’s the sort of conduct which explains why Dolly has left him.’ Fran headed for the big swing doors which led into the street and Eddie skipped ahead to open them for her.
‘What an absolute cad,’ he said. ‘I must say that I feel quite ashamed on behalf of my family.’
‘Now,’ she said briskly, ‘I wonder which station we will need for a train out to Croydon.’
‘That will take far too long,’ Eddie said. ‘I’ll hail a cab.
‘Tell me,’ he said, when they were installed in the back of a taxi and Eddie had given the driver Dolly’s address. ‘Do you intend to continue with your life as a lady detective, once you have remarried?’
‘As I’ve already told you, I’m not a lady detective. It isn’t as if I advertise my services in the newspapers. It’s pure chance that your brother heard about what Tom and I had managed to find out last year in Durley Dean.’
‘Tom? That would be Tom Dod?’
‘Yes. The case involved his great aunt.’
‘Oh, I see.’
In the short silence whic
h followed, Fran wondered how much Eddie did see. She felt as if she ought to explain about her friendship with Tom, but it was complicated.
‘Of course you’re being far too modest as usual,’ Eddie said cheerfully. ‘When Roly contacted Mr Dod, he said at once that all the credit was yours. You were just the same over the discovery of the diamond, telling everyone that it was mainly down to Imogen that it was found.’
‘No, really …’ Fran began.
‘The thing is,’ Eddie continued, ‘I wouldn’t mind, you know, if you carried on your detective work, just so long as you let me drive you about and act as your faithful Passepartout. By the way, did you manage to get anything useful out of Monica?’
‘I’m not sure. There were one or two things. You know, I think Henrietta may have been right about her being romantically involved with the Baddeleys’ chauffeur at one stage, even though she denied it. She was … well … almost too emphatic.’
‘Monica? Romantically involved? You do surprise me. I always thought she must be the sort who had a heart of stone.’
‘I suppose he was questioned at the time and asked to confirm that they’d spent the afternoon together?’
‘I’m pretty sure he was. I definitely remember something being said about the police checking that Monica had been seen at the hotel where she said they went for tea. I’m surprised that anyone would have enquired as far into it as that. It wasn’t a full-blown murder enquiry, after all.’
‘I suppose not,’ Fran agreed. ‘What mattered was that Monica was off the premises, not what she was doing, or who she was with – particularly as there’s no question of seeing anyone else on the premises.’
‘If anyone had wanted to harm Grandfather, Monica’s afternoon off was just about the only time to do it.’
‘That isn’t quite true,’ said Fran. ‘She must often have left him alone for a few minutes, or even longer every day. I bet he had a nap in the afternoons and she didn’t sleep in his room at night. There were other opportunities and it may be that someone had tried to hurt him on previous occasions, without the rest of the family realizing it.’