Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery

by Lynn Florkiewicz

  ‘Certainly not. You have my word.’ He offered him a cigarette and after lighting it asked him what he’d discovered later. Eddie tilted his head in question. ‘You said you didn’t hear any rumours at the time.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. I got chatting with someone a few years later at a Remembrance Day service; someone in the regular army who served under the Captain. Kept referring to him as ‘custard’. I thought it was just a nickname.’

  ‘But you discovered something different.’

  Eddie let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘Cowardy custard. I’ve no proof. I don’t know what happened on that mission but every one of those Pals ended up dead. One on the battle-field, one suspicious, one murdered by firing squad and one shot himself.’ He puffed his cigarette. ‘That ain’t right.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’d best get back. I don’t know if that’s been any help. I’ve no proof about what happened to our comrades but I do know this. Something happened on that mission that destroyed my mates and their families.’

  ‘Do you know where Shotover’s family are?’

  Eddie shrugged and explained he never met them. ‘They weren’t Cavendish; they were Loxfield and I think they were pretty new to the area when war broke out. Moved away years ago.’

  James watched him go. This placed new emphasis on William Carlton’s reputation as a coward. And Eddie’s last words ran through his head. Something happened on that mission that destroyed my mates and their families. That something was enough to kill. Was Enid Carmichael the grand-daughter of Private Shotover? Did she discover her grand-father’s diaries?

  Bert’s return brought him out of his thoughts. ‘Helpful?’

  ‘Very.’ He felt his pockets for some loose change. ‘I’m going to make a quick call.’

  As he opened the door, he noticed George sitting at the back of the hall. ‘Did you get through to Collins?’

  ‘He went home at five o’clock and won’t be back in until tomorrow afternoon. He won’t get promotion doing that. I left a message with my sergeant but he thinks Collins is too fixated on finding Enid to take any notice, especially when I mentioned that you’d provided the information. That’s a sure sign he’ll put it at the bottom of the list.’

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have let that slip.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He nodded at the stage. ‘Has Beth been on yet?’

  ‘Yes, she’s still up there. Why don’t you go and sit down? You’re supposed to be taking it easy, not pursuing a murder enquiry.’

  George didn’t argue and went through to the main hall. James stood by the phone and leafed through a tiny address book. He studied the name selected and dialled the number. On hearing the pips, he fed coins into the slot.

  ‘Ah, is that Gerald Crabtree? Good show, Lord Harrington here.’

  Gerald had attended GJ’s wedding but James didn’t realise he’d be calling on him again so soon in his official capacity. His place of work was Somerset House where all the births, deaths and marriages were registered.

  With the pleasantries out the way, James got down to business. ‘I wonder if you could shed some light on Enid Carmichael and her family.’ He went through the information he had about her; her roots in Sussex and Devon and the military career of her ancestors. The pips went and he fed more coppers into the slot.

  Gerald cleared his throat. ‘So you need to establish that she’s on the level.’

  ‘Exactly right. She’s being hunted down for murder but I’m not sure that she is our suspect.’

  ‘Do you know who is?’

  ‘I’ve a suspicion but absolutely no proof. Having confirmation about this from you would solve that. The name Shotover has cropped up in the last couple of days and I can’t establish who that belongs to.’

  ‘Well, give me the names and I’ll see what I can find out.’

  James imparted two further names: Olivia Dupree (née Diane Brown) and Mandy Billings. ‘I don’t have much to tell you. Olivia Dupree’s people are from Shoreditch and Mandy’s are from Sussex.’

  Gerald double-checked that he was talking about the Olivia Dupree and James confirmed that he was.

  ‘Well, that would cause a scandal, wouldn’t it? Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can rustle up for you.’

  Happy that he was moving in the right direction, he returned to the village hall, delighted to see that he hadn’t missed Beth’s entire rehearsal. With actors line-perfect and with costumes being adjusted as they were worn, the dress rehearsal rolled by without a hitch. Satisfied that they were as now good as they could be, the whole ensemble transferred to the Half Moon to celebrate a job well done.

  At 10:30 the following morning, Gerald rang James with the news that Enid Carmichael was telling the truth. He’d traced the family back to the mid-19th century in Sussex and a later move to Devon. The family had men listed in the Sussex regiment in Italy. The grand-dad was discharged and is still alive. The Shotover name did not appear to be linked.

  ‘James, I’ve not had an opportunity to check the other names. I’ve quite a bit on at present so I’ll have to do this when I have time. If your Inspector chap put in a formal police enquiry, I could probably get something done quicker.’

  After the call, James replaced the handset. The chances of getting that ghastly man, Collins, to expedite anything would be like betting on a rocking horse to win the Derby. But at least one name had been taken out of the equation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Philip Jackson had picked George up to take him to the hospital for a check-up. With Beth and Anne in discussions with the Salvation Army over a carol concert and Harry running things at the hotel, James invited Juliet along to speak with Mandy Billings. Charlie had given him the address of her mum’s place in Cowfold where she was doing the last of the clearing out.

  Cowfold was a small village on the road between Horsham and Shoreham, dating back to the 13th century. It hosted a regular ceilidh in the village hall which he and Beth had often attended. They were also customers of a local farmer in the area whose wife made delicious rabbit pies.

  The house was in a row of terraced cottages a five minute walk from the main square. They were narrow houses, each with a tiny garden at the front. On finding the correct property, he peered through the dusty window but detected no signs of life. Perhaps she’s in the back room, he thought. Juliet searched for a doorbell or knocker and, on finding none, rapped on the door itself. They waited a few minutes. He stamped his feet on the pavement. ‘My word it’s cold!’ he said, mist emerging from his mouth as he spoke.

  ‘Seems we may have had a wasted journey,’ said Juliet.

  ‘Can I ’elp you?’

  James turned to his left to see a neighbour leaning on the fence. She wore a wrap-around apron and a headscarf.

  ‘Ah, hello! We were hoping to see Mandy. Is she about?’

  ‘I ain’t seen ’er today.’

  Juliet approached the fence. ‘We have some news regarding her late mother’s estate. It’s vital we see her. Do you know if she managed to complete our paperwork?’

  The woman made a face to indicate she had no idea. ‘Why don’t you take a look? I keep a spare key. Always ’ave done. You’re from the solicitors, are you?’

  James took the key. ‘That’s right. We won’t be long. I’ll get this back to you in a few moments.’

  She waved and carried on brushing the front step. James huddled by the front door and grinned at Juliet. ‘That was extremely devious of you,’ he said, as he opened the door.

  The house was as cold inside as out and their footsteps echoed as they crossed the linoleum floor into the front room. Juliet went on through to the kitchen.

  ‘Cupboards are bare,’ she informed him.

  James scanned the room. ‘Not much in here either.’

  All the furniture had gone except for a compact sideboard. He opened the various drawers and squatted down to see inside the lower cupboards, which all proved to be empty. He stood up and examined the shelves to the side. These must be
some of the bottles that Mandy had spoken about. Six shelves full of blue and green bottles; all shapes and sizes and of varying ages. Some were recent designs and some were clearly Victorian or earlier.

  He squatted down and checked under the cupboard. Something caught his eye and he reached underneath to scoop up debris by the skirting board. Among the dust were some scraps of newspaper letters.

  He leapt up and held the clippings high. ‘We have her. Look, odd letters from newspapers. A pound to a penny these will be a match with those letters sent to Carlton.’

  ‘If she’s been that careless, there may be other more evidence.’

  James pointed to the back. ‘The dustbin, let’s try that.’

  In the small garden at the back, they lifted the dustbin lid. Keeping his gloves on, James pulled out a selection of newspapers; old copies of the Daily Express and the Evening News that dated back several years. He leafed through them and Juliet was quick to spot something.

  ‘Look there,’ said Juliet.

  James retrieved a chemist’s script. Juliet peered at the prescription.

  ‘This is for Mandy Billings. If my memory is correct, this is for severe depression. And she’s not presented it. It’s over a month old.’

  James slipped it in his pocket and took out the layer of newspapers. ‘Well, well, what have we here?’

  At the bottom of the dustbin was a wooden rack with half a dozen tiny bottles. Unlike the bottles on the shelves, these had elaborate labels on them. They were faded but their origin was what had taken his interest. ‘Juliet. Look at these,’ he said, picking a couple up.

  Juliet took the rack from him. ‘These are bottles from a pharmacy. They’re dated 1880. Look at this one. Strychnine.’

  ‘Does strychnine go off?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. Her mother probably bought these at a market or something.’ She leant in close. ‘This bottle’s been used. Look. There’s no dust on this one but the others haven’t been dusted at all. Put everything back. The police will need to fingerprint these.’

  They returned to the main room where Juliet stopped in her tracks. ‘Look, a typewriter.’

  ‘This is our murderer, Juliet.’

  There was a knock on the door and the neighbour entered. ‘Found what you were looking for?’

  ‘Ah, no, I think she must have those papers with her. Looks like Miss Billings has done a good job of clearing everything.’

  The neighbour frowned. ‘Miss Billings?’

  Her expression put a seed of doubt in his head. ‘Yes. Mandy Billings? Her mother died. Mandy’s the one who’s been sorting everything out.’

  She laughed. ‘Gawd, I ’aven’t heard that name for a while. Billings. I knew Ethel when she was a Billings.’

  James frowned. ‘Ethel?’

  ‘Ethel Shotover.’

  James forced himself to remain calm. ‘Ethel Shotover?’

  ‘Yes, Mandy’s mum. Billings was Ethel’s maiden name. I’ve known Ethel since school. We lived in the same road back then and now we’re neighbours. Poor thing. She had a rotten life.’

  ‘In what way?’

  The woman folded and unfolded her cleaning rag as she relayed the story of Ethel Billings. She spoke of a timid girl whose wish was to have a husband and a family and nothing more.

  ‘She got ’em too,’ said the neighbour, ‘but, oh dear, what a life she had. Her father-in-law came out of that awful war with shell-shock. They kept ’im in a home for years but because he had family, they let him out. Came to live here, with them, he did.’

  She described days and nights where they’d find him cowering in the garden and shouting at demons.

  ‘He weren’t old; probably mid-forties when he put a gun to his head.’ She pointed towards the back garden. ‘Down there it was, behind the shed. Ethel wanted to throw that gun away but her husband was having none of it. He locked it in that cupboard there.’

  James opened the cupboard door. He brought out a leather pistol holder and opened it. Empty. Juliet’s face mirrored his concern.

  ‘I say, was Mandy born then?’

  ‘She must’ve been around six I think.’ She twisted her apron-string round her fingers. ‘Then the dad did the same.’

  ‘What? I thought he’d left.’

  ‘He did. But he didn’t go far. Went down to Beachy Head and threw himself off.’

  Beachy Head was a beauty spot on the South Coast with incredibly high cliff tops. Many a time he and Beth had walked along the coastline there and stopped for a picnic. How tragic that Mandy’s dad should make such a decision. He rubbed his forehead.

  ‘Why did Mandy’s dad take his own life? He had a wife and daughter who presumably loved him.’

  ‘Affected by his dad. When his dad came from the convalescent place, he weren’t right in the head. It put a shadow on this house. Ethel withdrew and got ill – suffered with depression. She was in and out of mental homes till the day she died. And when he jumped off Beachy Head, well, she got worse. I’m not surprised she poisoned herself. She had enough of the stuff.’

  James and Juliet exchanged alarmed looks. The neighbour began speaking about the bottles. ‘She used to go to markets and second-hand shops buying tat. I remember her showing me things she’d bought. Look at the pretty labels, she’d say. She loved the writing on the bottles from the chemists. I know she had quite a few. I hope Mandy’s chucking ’em all away.’

  Juliet pulled her scarf tighter and shivered. ‘James, I think we’ve probably learned all we need to here. Don’t you think we should try to track Mandy down?’

  James agreed. Time was of the essence. Mandy had drawn her net around Major Carlton and now they needed to establish where on earth she’d taken him. They thanked the neighbour for her time and returned the key to her. When they’d entered the house, there had been a chill in the air. Now snow-laden clouds gathered in the distance. James started the car and put the heater on full blast. He turned to Juliet.

  ‘Where d’you think she’s taken him?’

  ‘I don’t know. We can’t go dashing around the countryside on a wild goose chase.’

  He put the vehicle into gear. ‘Let’s go home. Perhaps she’s left a ransom or something.’

  ‘I doubt it. Mandy Billings is not driven by money. She has one thing in mind for Major Carlton and I don’t believe it entails him living much longer.’

  The roads were damp. Although snow threatened, only a few flurries of sleet swirled down and disappeared before touching the ground. James pressed his foot on the accelerator and, for a brief moment, relived his racing and rallying days from the 1930s. He took the racing line around bends and went up through the gears on long stretches of tarmac. He revved the engine and slowed as he turned into the drive, coming to a halt at the steps leading to the front door. Juliet let out a satisfied sigh.

  ‘My dear that really was the most invigorating run. We must do it again.’ Without waiting for James, she got out of the car and breathed in the fresh, still air. ‘I wonder, while we’re discussing our next move, whether I could have a glass of water? I’m quite parched.’

  James quickly opened the front door. ‘Of course. It was remiss of me to drag you away all morning without a break.’

  As if on cue, Beth peered around the kitchen door. ‘Good timing; tea’s just made.’

  In the lounge, James and Juliet updated George, Beth and Harry with their news. George frowned as he listened to Juliet’s thoughts about Mandy’s intentions.

  ‘She’s going to kill him, George, mark my words.’

  Harry paced the floor. ‘But where would she go? She lived with her mum – she didn’t rent anywhere else, did she?’

  James looked at his son. ‘Should we telephone John?’

  ‘No need,’ said Harry, ‘he called earlier to ask if we’d heard anything. We were having a chat but someone was at the door so he had to go.’

  They sat in silence. James spoke his thoughts aloud. ‘There must be somewhere significant to her. She w
ouldn’t take him to a random place.’

  George agreed but suggested that it would be more significant to Peter Shotover. ‘This is all about what happened in 1917 so she must be planning something in line with what happened to her grand-dad.’

  ‘Don’t forget that her whole family was affected,’ said Juliet. ‘She didn’t know her grand-dad that well. She’s only been planning this for a couple of years so I would assume that that’s when she found the diaries.’

  James felt a jolt of panic. ‘Harry, you said someone was at the door for John.’

  His son’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘Crikey, do you think that was Mandy?’

  James jumped up. ‘I’ll telephone him.’ He dashed out to the hall and dialled John’s number. It rang and rang. ‘Come on, John,’ he muttered, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Beth and the others gathered, willing John to answer. James shook his head and replaced the receiver. He picked it up again and dialled.

  ‘Ah, hello, Charlie, it’s James here. I say, have you heard from Mandy at all?’

  There was a small period of silence before his friend replied. ‘No, James. I probably won’t be seeing her again.’

  ‘Oh? Why’s that?’

  ‘She’s a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde. When you get to know her she seems a bit… I don’t know how to describe it.’

  ‘Unhinged?’

  ‘Well…yes, that would cover it. What’s going on?’

  ‘I’ll update you later - got to dash.’

  ‘I take it,’ said Juliet, ‘that the librarian has seen another side to Mandy.’

  ‘He has indeed,’ James replied, relating what Charlie had said.

  Nonplussed, James stared at his feet. Was there something in Ethel Shotover’s house that could have given them a clue? Was there something the neighbour said or something they’d seen?

  George placed a call to his office and requested a police presence at the house of Major William Carlton, adding that they were to break in if there was no response. After a couple of minutes he finished the conversation and turned. ‘It may be that she’s got them there.’