‘Are you ready for your speech?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
Catherine’s cousin, who had stepped in to give her away, tapped a crystal glass with his spoon and the room hushed as he rose; notes in hand. James glanced out of the large windows that, in summer, gave extensive views across the grounds. It was early evening and darkness had long set in but, in the glow of the house lights, he saw Olivia and Carlo in what appeared to be a heated argument. He narrowed his eyes in the false hope that this would help him make out what was happening. Olivia stamped her feet like a child having a tantrum and Carlo waved his arms about theatrically before pushing her to one side and marching back toward the dining room. A ripple of applause broke him from his thoughts.
Paul topped up everyone’s glasses with champagne as the speeches came and went. GJ was generous in his thanks to the residents of Cavendish and to James and Beth in particular. James, in his role as best man, delivered a short, eloquent, address to the newly-weds that was both humorous and gracious. He raised his glass. The band began warming up.
‘I’m sure that you don’t want to listen to me wittering.’
‘You’ll not be wrong there!’ shouted Donovan the pub landlord, in his soft Irish lilt. He received an elbow in the ribs from his wife for interrupting.
James acknowledged the comment with a grin. ‘We have an excellent band and singer in tonight so make the most of what has already been a perfect day. To finish off though, please stand and raise your glasses to the bride and groom.’
Chairs scraped on the floor as the guests stood and held their champagne flutes toward the couple. ‘The bride and groom,’ they chorused.
Paul appeared behind James and leant in. ‘Sorry to disturb you, your Lordship. I need to call upon Dr Jackson.’
‘Oh? Someone ill?’
‘Yes, Olivia Dupree. We’ve taken her to the office.’
‘I’m sure Philip will be more than happy to take a look.’ He noted Paul’s concerned expression. ‘I say, is everything all right?’
Paul lowered his voice. ‘She hinted that someone had poisoned her.’
CHAPTER THREE
He pecked Beth on the cheek, made his excuses and grabbed Harry on the way through to reception. Didier stood in the doorway to the kitchen with the expression of a man on the edge of eruption. Familiar with his chef’s temperament, James decided another couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt Miss Dupree. He gestured for Didier to return to the kitchen. Didier did so. They followed him through to where his minions scurried around preparing desserts and pouring after-dinner liqueurs. His chef turned on his heels and faced them. He stood no more than five foot six inches and his rotund frame suited him. He placed his hands on his hips.
‘Didier, what on earth’s the matter? Have you dropped the trifle or something?’
‘Trifle? Non, non, I ’ave not dropped ze trifle,’ he gesticulated. ‘The trifle is magnificent, there is nothing wrong with the trifle.’
‘Well, what is it?’ asked Harry.
Didier thrust a pointed finger toward the wall, behind which was the office. ‘Olivia Dupree. Pah! She say she is poisoned.’ He flung his chef’s hat on the floor. ‘I, Didier Le Noir, do not poison my clientele. I do not poison guests at ’arrington’s. Non, non. I will not serve that woman. You choose a different singer for next week.’
Harry picked up the hat while James put a reassuring hand on Didier’s shoulder. ‘I say, Didier, no one is accusing you of that. I’m sure she didn’t mean you personally have poisoned her. I mean to say, if there was something in the food, more people would be ill. And it wouldn’t be your fault if there was a bad batch.’
Didier sneered. ‘I obtain these ingredients personally. I ’ave never had a bad batch.’
Harry placed the hat on Didier’s head. ‘I’ve eaten everything in front of me, Didier, and it was all splendid.’
‘Oui, oui, but you ’ad the pork. She ’ad the goose.’
‘Well, no one else is ill, are they?’
The chef reluctantly agreed. He straightened his hat and pulled his shoulders back. ‘I will return to my duty but you must speak with that woman.’ He clicked his heels. ‘I will not ’ave a common singer ruin my reputation.’
Turning quickly, he marched off, muttering about having put a knife in someone before and how he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. James knew he must have looked perplexed. What on earth was he harping on about, putting a knife in someone?
Harry bit his lip. ‘I didn’t realise he was so temperamental.’
‘Mmm. He is a phenomenal cook but he can be a little pretentious with it.’ He steered Harry out of the kitchen. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what Miss Dupree has to say.’
Olivia Dupree was draped across the small couch in the corner of the cramped office. Although physically beautiful, her pomposity and aloof expression made her the most unattractive individual to James. His friend and local doctor, Philip Jackson, was going through the motions of a general check-up. His dark, wavy hair and good looks was normally a magnet for women like Olivia but she seemed intent on playing the part of a lady close to death. The dramatic pose sent a spark of irritation through him. As Philip examined her, she threw out dramatic sighs and whimpers.
Philip put his stethoscope away and got to his feet. ‘I don’t suppose you have any spare rooms, do you?’
James raised an eyebrow at Paul who was quick to explain that every room was taken. ‘This event’s always sold out months in advance, especially with the wedding too.’
Olivia Dupree swept her hair back from her forehead and closed her eyes in despair. ‘It really is too awful for words. I’ve been poisoned and no one is doing anything to help.’
James pulled up a chair. ‘What did you eat?’
She glared at him. ‘I haven’t eaten. I don’t eat before I sing. How can I eat before a performance? It’s far too heavy. I had a light lunch before I arrived. Poached egg and one slice of toast.’
‘Well, it’s unlikely that made you ill.’
Philip was quick to agree.
Harry sat down opposite her. ‘Perhaps it’s because you haven’t eaten. That can make you feel a bit queasy.’
‘Perhaps she has a bug?’ Paul put in.
‘I don’t have a bug; I was perfectly fine until I drank the wine.’
James bristled at her tone. ‘Lots of other people have drunk the wine and they’re all fine. What makes you think this is poison?’
‘For pity’s sake, why so many questions? Just call the police.’
CHAPTER FOUR
James left Harry and Philip to appease Miss Dupree, convinced that, as she was now revelling in their attention, she was prone to dramatics.
In the main dining hall, the tables and chairs had been skilfully rearranged to allow for more room on the dance floor. Waiters and waitresses carrying trays of wine, beer and champagne buzzed among the guests. He negotiated his way around the room, dodging couples who moved gracefully to ‘Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White’. The ladies, looking wonderful in their evening dresses, seemed to glide as their husbands guided them across the floor. Some of the men had loosened their bow ties and discarded their jackets. He skipped to one side to avoid Donovan and Kate as they swished by. He mounted the low-level stage and tapped Carlo on the shoulder who leant toward him.
‘I’m afraid your leading lady’s been taken ill.’
Carlo motioned for the band to continue and accompanied James to the side of the stage. ‘Si, si, I know. She issa playing the drama queen, si? Arching her back and faking the fit.’
James held back a chuckle but Carlo saw through him. ‘You agree, si? Let her ’ave the attention she seeks on her sickbed. I ’ave a replacement singer.’
‘You do?’
‘Si, si, Mandy Billings.’
‘Her assistant?’
‘Si. She’s a good singer but she no sing for a while. She look after her mamma. But Mamma’s dead now so she issa singing again.’
Mandy stood on the other side of the stage wearing a ruby-red ball gown. She’d untied her thick blonde hair; it was dishevelled but in an attractive way. She cast a sultry glance across the room. James couldn’t help but stare. She was stunning. He returned his attention to Carlo.
‘I presume you’ve heard her sing?’
‘Si, si, but not in front of such a crowd. I ’ope she can take the pressure. If she can’t, you still have Carlo Pisani.’ He held out a hand.
James shook it warmly and weaved his way to the back of the room. Anne scurried up behind him.
‘Is it true? Was Olivia Dupree poisoned?’
‘Absolutely not, Anne. She’s just come down with a bug, that’s all.’ He gave a look of puzzlement to where Olivia had been sitting. Adam was changing the tablecloth and wiping the floor. ‘What’s going on there?’
‘Oh, the glass of wine she was drinking got knocked over. There’s red wine all over the cloth.’
James started. The woman was over-theatrical; everyone had said as much. But if this had been poison, should he hold on to the evidence?
‘Are you all right, James?’
He tore himself away from his thoughts and patted her hand. ‘Absolutely, old thing. I see the people in the wedding party are all enjoying themselves. Why don’t you get young Stephen up on the dance floor?’
Anne didn’t need to be asked twice. She dragged her reluctant husband away from his brief rest as the band launched into the classic Charleston. James stepped back as his guests laughed at each’s frantic attempts to master the steps. He chuckled as some of the older men left the floor, gesturing that it was far too active for their taste. He made a beeline for Adam who had now reached the reception area with his arms full of stained linen and an empty wine glass.
‘I say, Adam, who was sitting at Miss Dupree’s table this evening?’
The young man looked up to gather his thoughts. ‘The band leader, Mr Pisani; her two assistants, Miss Billings and Miss Carmichael, and the four ex-army gentleman.’
‘Did you see who spilt the wine?’
‘No I didn’t, your Lordship. I was in the area but was listening to the band. Is it important?’
He assured Adam it wasn’t and watched the young waiter go on his way. Philip closed the office door and approached him.
‘Is George still here?’
‘Yes, he’s just opted out of the Charleston.’ James noted the doctor’s expression. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Olivia Dupree will be fine but, James, I do believe she was poisoned.’
‘What! Are you sure?’
‘Well, I spoke with Eddie Simmonds, the old army man who was seated at their table. She showed some odd signs, apparently. She’d been the life and soul of the party, laughing, socialising, behaving rather flamboyantly.’ He gave James a knowing look as if he disapproved of such behaviour. ‘Then she drank some wine and got agitated, almost paranoid and started complaining of neck ache.’
‘And that suggests what?’
‘Well the paranoia and neck ache indicate mild strychnine poisoning. I’ve taken a blood sample to be sure.’
‘Right. You get George. I’ll ask Adam to bring the glass and tablecloth to the office.’
CHAPTER FIVE
George and Beth joined James in the office where he explained that a couple had allowed Olivia Dupree use of their room for a couple of hours. Fortunately, none of the guests or the wedding party had taken much notice of what happened. They’d simply seen a woman be taken ill. He handed George the blood sample and instructed Harry to go and reassure Didier. As much as he hated the fact that the famous Miss Dupree was ill, he wanted to keep his prized chef happy, especially in the run-up to Christmas.
His friend eased himself into a chair and winced.
‘You all right, George?’
George grunted that he was fine; that he probably had eaten too much and was suffering as a result. James studied him as he prepared his pipe. It was almost a meditation, a ritual that put him in the frame of mind required for police work; the tobacco carefully placed in the bowl, the strike of a match and the considered first puff. Although James didn’t smoke a pipe himself, he always loved the aroma as the first waft of its perfume reached him. George grabbed a pen and paper from the desk.
‘Right, I need the names and addresses of everyone at the table. From what Adam said, everyone was seated and the wine was served with the dinner. No one approached the table at that time and no one else is ill.’
Beth sat down. ‘But wouldn’t Adam have been keeping an eye on the service flow?’
‘He said he wasn’t out of the room,’ said James. ‘He was watching everything from the main door but distracted a little by the band. But, yes, the wine was served with dinner so there would be no reason for people to move from table to table during that time.’
‘And the main door was near where Olivia Dupree was sitting?’
James nodded.
‘The people sitting at her table, do you know much about them?’
James held a finger up to indicate that George should wait, nipped out to reception to retrieve the seating plan and returned to his seat to peruse the names.
‘Carlo Pisani was next to her. To the other side were Enid Carmichael and Mandy Billings. We put them all together as they know one another.’
‘D’you know much about them?’
‘Only first impressions.’
‘They’re sometimes the best. What’re your thoughts?’
James allowed Beth to speak first.
‘Well, I only met Miss Dupree today but I couldn’t warm to her. She has a standoffish approach to most people. Anne was with me and she behaved as if she wasn’t there. I found that a little rude.’
‘I agree,’ said James. ‘She likes to be the centre of attention. All this business about being poisoned was taken with a pinch of salt by Carlo. The dramatics were worthy of an award. You might want to have a word with Bert. He has a friend who went to school with her in Shoreditch. Our Olivia is not what she purports to be, George. Acts in a rather pompous manner but her family are working class.’ George raised his eyebrows. ‘She obviously achieved her dream but not without rubbing people up the wrong way and falsifying her status in life.’
He watched as his friend scribbled a few notes down. ‘And what about this Pisani chap?’
‘Oh, I like him,’ said Beth, ‘very gracious and charming.’
‘Mmm, seems a decent chap and wise to Miss Dupree’s tantrums.’ He sat up. ‘Speaking of tantrums, the pair of them appeared to be having a rather heated argument on the terrace before dinner was served.’
George leant in. ‘About?’
James shrugged. ‘No idea. It was somewhat noisy in our room with all the chatting going on and the windows were shut so I can’t help there. You’ll need to ask them; and Mandy and Enid. I’m sure they can give you their perceptions of Miss Dupree.’
‘Who else was at that table?’
‘We had our four Pals there.’
‘Pals?’
‘Yes, you know, the Cavendish men who signed up for the Great War. They added another battalion to the Sussex Regiment, called themselves the Cavendish Pals although men from Charnley and Loxfield were recruited too.’
‘Ah, yes, the men who worked and played together.’
‘Worked together, born and raised in the area and joined up together. Their actual reunion is later this week but I invited those four tonight as they’ve been organising events for their little gang.’ He checked the guest list. ‘Here we are, Eddie and Billy Simmonds, Walter Anderson and Scotty Bull. All Cavendish men.’
George scratched his head and puffed on his pipe. ‘Right, I want to have a word with all of those people before the end of the evening. Can I use your telephone?’
James pushed it toward him. George began dialling as Harry knocked and came in.
‘Hello, thought you’d like to know that Miss Dupree is feeling better. She’s
in room 15 and has been flirting with Dr Jackson and me.’
Beth groaned. ‘Oh, sweetie, don’t get involved with her, please.’
‘Mother, I’m wounded that you’d think she was my type. It’s all quite amusing really. She’s really quite pretentious. I’ll tell you something though, that Mandy Billings has the most fantastic voice. I think she’s better than her ladyship upstairs.’
‘Really?’ said James.
‘Go out and listen for yourself. Her version of ‘Let it Snow’ was spot on.’
George replaced the receiver. ‘An apt song, I think. It’s been snowing quite heavily over at Lewes and I can’t get any constables over here. It’s stopped now but I’ll have to speak to these people tonight.’
‘Do you need help?’ James said, aware of a twinge of excitement in his stomach.
‘If you don’t mind.’ He jutted his chin at Harry. ‘What was that about Mandy Billings?’
‘Great voice, better than when I saw Olivia on the television recently.’ He looked at James. ‘I’ll make sure the evening carries on as normal if you like.’
‘We all need to be there, we’ll be notable by our absence. We should be circulating.’
Beth agreed. She turned to George. ‘Who do want to see first?’
‘I’ll start with the infamous Miss Dupree. I want all of you to keep this evening running to your usual standards. James, get chatting to a few people, that’s what you’re good at. See what you can glean.’
James followed Beth and Harry through to the dining room to join their guests. The music stomped and the air was thick with laughter and chatter. Some ladies had wrapped tinsel around their necks and secured pieces of mistletoe in their hair. He could hardly see the dance floor for people. The guests applauded as Carlo Pisani led his band into Cool Yule. The bandleader didn’t let up; one tune after another for the whole evening with only the occasional break for the musicians to catch their breath.
James grinned at Bert who had linked up with Gladys, his old friend from the East End Mission. What a couple they’d make. He’d never seen Bert in a dinner jacket and this one was borrowed from a friend for the evening so he looked a little clumsy. Even if he’d had one especially made, James was sure he’d still have looked a mess. He knew his friend felt uncomfortable and had even asked if he could still wear his cap. Beth, thankfully, had talked him out of it. Gladys, although from the East End, had no qualms about joining in. She wore a gaudy orange and lemon dress and her hair, tied up for the wedding, had become bedraggled – indeed she looked as if she’d fallen out of a washing machine. But still she laughed and danced with Bert, oblivious to her lofty surroundings. He grinned; how wonderful to see them here and enjoying themselves.
Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery Page 2