‘In which case I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes when Montacute catches up with her,’ Sergeant Lane said. ‘I assume you’ll want to interview her first. If Miss Montacute had any enemies or had received any threats to her safety then Miss Wentmore should know about them, shouldn’t she?’
‘All in good time, Sergeant,’ Inspector Bramwell said, putting down the papers that he had been perusing during their conversation. ‘I daresay Miss Wentmore will have information useful to our inquiry. But as I said to you before, I do things a bit differently to your Inspector Deacon. Me, I like to interview what I call the ’little people’ first, what others might call the bit players. I daresay policemen like your Inspector Deacon would consider them insignificant and leave them till last to be interviewed. But as I say, I like to interview them first.’
‘Why’s that, sir?’ enquired the sergeant, looking distinctly puzzled.
He was already at a loss as to why his superior had chosen not to question Cedric about the murder when they had had the opportunity. It had been painfully obvious, even to the most casual observer that the Earl of Belvedere had been rather put out at being dismissed in such a cavalier fashion.
‘Because they have a tendency not to watch their words,’ answered the inspector. ‘They see all the goings on, so to speak, but are not so much a part of it. They are not hampered by the various loyalties that the main players wrestle with in trying to decide whether or not to impart information. No, it doesn’t take much for our bit players to spill the beans, more often than not it just takes a bit of encouragement on our part. And of course the bit players have another considerable advantage over our main players.’
‘And what’s that, sir?’
‘They see things more objectively.’
‘I take it, sir, that you see Lord Belvedere as having a main role?’
Inspector Bramwell nodded.
‘Well then, sir,’ continued Sergeant Lane, ‘I think you may have got it wrong in his case if you don’t mind my saying so. He’s an upright young man from what I know of him. I think you’d have found him forthcoming. It appeared to me, sir, that he was keen to tell you what he knew.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Inspector Bramwell, rather dismissively. ‘But his account will be somewhat tainted. I’ve seen it before with the likes of him. They believe they have a responsibility to their guests. Why, in one particular case I was investigating, blow me if the damned duke didn’t do everything in his power to prevent me even questioning his friends.’
‘Lord Belvedere’s not like that, sir,’ Sergeant Lane said.
‘Is that so, Sergeant?’ Inspector Bramwell looked at him rather sceptically. ‘And yet we have it on the good authority of the local constable that it’s more than likely that our earl tampered with the evidence before he called us in.’
Sergeant Lane said nothing and looked a little sheepish. To cover his embarrassment he turned the pages of his notebook. ‘Do you want to hear what I found out from the servants, sir?’
‘I do indeed, Sergeant. Treated right, they’re even more forthcoming than the bit players. Now, what have they to tell us, I wonder.’
‘Well, it seems, sir, that the deceased and the doctor had taken rather a fancy to one another,’ began Sergeant Lane, keen to redeem himself in the eyes of his inspector. ‘Quite taken with each other, they were. As soon as they laid eyes on each other if the footman’s to be believed.’
‘But wasn’t Harrison staying here with his fiancée? Now … what’s her name …?’ The inspector glanced at his notes.
‘Yes, sir, Miss Brewster. And as you’d imagine, she didn’t take it at all well by all accounts. Proper upset, she was. Pretended not to notice what was going on, but she was that miserable all the time that all the servants were certain that it was going to come to a head, and it did.’
‘Oh?’
The inspector had discarded his papers and looked up, waiting for the sergeant to continue.
‘According to our gossip of a footman,’ continued Sergeant Lane, ‘Miss Brewster made some blasé remark about the failed kidnap attempt. Miss Montacute burst into floods of tears and Dr Harrison and Miss Wentmore had a right go at Miss Brewster, asked her how she could be so unkind. Our footman enjoyed it no end, said he hadn’t seen as much fur fly not since Lady Lavinia announced her intention to work in a dress shop where, as it happens, she met Miss Simpson.’
‘When did this outburst occur?’
‘The night before last. After dinner in the drawing room it was, and in front of all the family and guests. The footman said everyone was standing there, staring in disbelief, wondering how it was all going to end. It was the count who came to the rescue and changed the direction of things by talking about jewels. Miss Montacute cheered up no end and told them all about the Montacute Diamonds, and she and Lady Lavinia took it in turns to look at their precious stones using the count’s jeweller’s lens.’
‘Did they indeed? Well, well, well. I’d like to know how this count fellow fits into everything. The young earl didn’t have a good word to say about him, made him sound like some character out of a storybook.’
‘Do you think there’s more to the count than meets the eye? I mean to say, how many gentlemen just happen to have a jeweller’s loupe on them? It seems a funny sort of thing to carry in the pocket of your dinner jacket, doesn’t it, sir?’
‘It does,’ agreed the inspector.
‘And another thing, sir. The servants said he was a favourite among the ladies … well, at least with Lady Lavinia and Miss Montacute. Could be quite charming, he could, had a tendency to amuse and flatter them. The general feeling in the servants’ hall was that he was trying to ingratiate himself with these two ladies in particular.’
‘Was he, indeed? Did he have a particular favourite between the two?’
‘Now, there’s a thing, sir. The footman thought he had a slight preference for Miss Montacute, but subsequently turned his attentions towards Lady Lavinia.’
‘I’ll wager he didn’t want to compete with the doctor fellow for Miss Montacute’s affections. He sounds a fickle sort of a fellow to me.’ Inspector Bramwell got up from his chair and began to pace the room. ‘Interesting that, Sergeant.’
‘Oh?’
‘Is it just coincidence that he had a jeweller’s loupe about his person and these two women have a pile of jewels between them? I doubt the other women would have been able to scrape together any jewels of much worth. We’ll need to look at this fellow pretty closely, Lane.’
‘Yes, sir. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to have a bit of an eye for the ladies. Thistlewaite is sweet on Miss Wentmore and according to this footman, although the young lady in question has a tendency to keep herself to herself, it is generally believed among the servants that she feels something for the fellow.’
‘Any more affairs of the heart that I should be informed about, Lane?’
‘Lord Belvedere and Miss Simpson, sir.’
‘An earl and a shop girl, whatever next!’ The inspector chuckled. ‘I’ll wager the servants have a view on that. Still, there’s many a member of the aristocracy who’s married an actress or chorus girl in the past so I’m led to believe.’
‘And Miss Simpson is not just any woman, sir,’ Sergeant Lane said quickly. ‘She’s been very useful in solving some murders in the past. I happen to know Inspector Deacon holds her in high esteem. Miss – ’
‘An amateur detective,’ groaned the inspector, ‘that’s all we need.’ He held up his hand as Sergeant Lane showed signs that he was about to protest. ‘And I don’t care how highly thought of by your Inspector Deacon Miss Simpson is, she has no part to play in this investigation other than as a witness and possible suspect, same as everyone else in this house. Do I make myself clear, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, sir, but – ’
‘No buts, please, Sergeant. I’ve had my fill of amateur detectives. They always think that they’re so much cleverer than us policemen, always sti
cking their noses in where they’re not wanted, and more often than not having to be rescued by the very people they ridicule as being incompetent.’
‘Miss Simpson’s not like that, sir,’ began Sergeant Lane.
‘Hmm, isn’t she, Sergeant? But I’ll hazard a guess that she’s not above withholding information or protecting a suspect that she’s taken a shine to, eh?’
There was an awkward silence.
‘That’s the trouble with people who fancy themselves to be amateur detectives,’ said the inspector more kindly. ‘They can’t look at things objectively, not like we can. They should keep their noses out and leave us to get on with our jobs.’
‘But, sir – ’
‘I think I’ve made myself clear, Sergeant.’ The inspector’s voice had now taken on an icy tone. ‘I’ll have no more said on the matter, do you hear?’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, there’s one other thing, sir, I almost forgot. After dinner last night they talked about the maze. Lord Belvedere showed them all a plan of it and explained in detail the route through. Apparently they were intending to make a bit of a game of it today, seeing how long it took for each of the guests to get to the centre of the maze. There was to be a prize for the winner, so I’ve heard.’
‘Now that is interesting, Sergeant. When we saw the body in situ, I couldn’t help but think how damned complicated that maze would be to navigate if one didn’t have a map.’
The two policemen were disturbed from their deliberations by a discreet knock on the study door.
‘Ah, good, hopefully we’re about to get some coffee,’ said Inspector Bramwell. ‘Perhaps even a slice or two of cake if you managed to make a favourable impression on the cook while you were down in the servants’ hall, eh Lane?’
The sergeant thought he detected a twinkle in the inspector’s eye, and he blushed.
The inspector was however to be disappointed. For although a servant did indeed enter the room, he came empty handed.
‘Oh, and what can we do for you, my man? What are you? Footman? Butler?’
‘I’m under-butler, sir. Manning.’ Every now and then the man glanced nervously at the door, as if he were expecting them to be joined any minute by someone else.
‘What’s the matter, man? Are you waiting on somebody, one of the maids or footmen perhaps? My sergeant here and I are rather parched. We could do with a pot of coffee and a slice or two of cake. Should we ring the bell or is that something you can arrange?’
‘Refreshments are on their way, sir. But if I may have a word with you first?’
‘If you must, so long as you do not dither about it. We are in the middle of a murder investigation, if you hadn’t heard.’ The inspector sighed and looked down at his papers.
‘I am aware of that, sir, which is why I thought it my duty to come and see you.’
‘Oh?’
Inspector Bramwell looked up from the desk, and for the first time regarded the servant with something close to interest. The man in front of him was approaching middle age and was dressed in the usual butler’s attire of black waistcoat and tailcoat. There was a nervousness about his manner that the policeman found both disquieting and surprising, given the man’s position as one of the chief servants of the household.
‘Yes, sir. Although I am not sure that Mr Torridge will approve of my coming to see you.’
‘And who’s this Mr Torridge, when he’s at home?’
‘He’s head-butler, sir. I’m not sure that he’d think it proper.’ Manning bent forward slightly and said in a low voice: ‘They don’t hold with having policemen in the house, Mr Torridge and Mrs Farrier, she’s the housekeeper, sir.’
‘That’s as maybe. But they can expect nothing else with a murder in the grounds. And you can tell them from me that we’ll be here for as long as it takes to apprehend the murderer.’ The inspector glared at the under-butler, his face even more florid than usual. ‘Now, out with it man, why are you here?’
‘I overheard talk between a couple of the guests, sir, regarding the murder weapon. Is it true that it was a silver candlestick?’
‘And what if it were? What’s it to you?’
‘Do you know where it comes from?’ interjected Sergeant Lane, before the unfortunate butler was obliged to answer the inspector’s question. ‘Does it come from this house?’
‘Yes, sir, I think it does.’ Manning, spurred on by the interest shown by the sergeant, turned his attention from the inspector to his subordinate. ‘That’s to say, a silver candlestick appears to be missing from the dining room.’
‘What? I thought you fellows kept the silverware and crystal and suchlike locked up in your butler’s pantry,’ said the inspector, taking exception to being ignored.
‘We do indeed, sir, the expensive silverware and crystal, that is. But not the ordinary, everyday silver; there’s just too much of it. The candlestick in question, sir, was a very run of the mill affair and as such was not locked away but left out on the sideboard.’
‘So it’s missing, eh? What does it look like, this candlestick?’
‘I can show you, sir. It’s one of a pair. If you care to come with me into the dining room, I can show you the other one. It’s still there.’
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’
Sergeant Lane had never seen the inspector move so quickly. For such a heavy man, he was extremely agile.
They crossed the hall and followed the butler into the dining room. As they passed the drawing room, Sergeant Lane glanced at the closed door, imagining the Sedgwick family and their guests seated anxiously within, or else fretfully pacing the floor.
The dining room was a grand affair with its high, strapwork ceiling, wood-panelled walls and lavish furnishings, and the policemen paused a moment to take in the full splendour of the room. The butler meanwhile went straight to a large, bow-fronted Georgian sideboard, placed against the far wall. He turned to face the policemen, and indicated a tapered column, silver candlestick.
‘That looks like the candlestick we found in the maze, don’t you think, Sergeant?’ said the inspector. ‘An exact copy I reckon. Can’t be absolutely certain without the other one in front of us to compare it with, of course. But I’d say that object could certainly do some damage.’ He lifted up the candlestick to feel its weight. ‘See how sturdy the base is, Sergeant? And you say, Manning, that this is one of a pair and the other is missing?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s usually just here, sir,’ he indicated a spot on the sideboard.
‘When did you last see it there?’
‘Last night, sir. It was there when dinner was served and also when we cleared away. I know that because I remember checking to see that all the candles had been snuffed out and Jack, that’s the second footman, sir, he’d forgotten to put out the candles on the sideboard. He’d done the ones on the table all right. Really, he’s the most forgetful lad, whether we’ll be able – ’
‘Right, so it was here last night after dinner. What about when you made your rounds before going to bed? Was it still there then?’
‘I couldn’t swear that it was,’ Manning said hesitantly. ‘You must understand, sir, that my attention is focused on checking that all the doors are locked and that the house is secure against intruders and fire and the like. I’d only have noticed the candlestick if the candle in it was still burning, which obviously it wasn’t because as I’ve explained already I’d snuffed out the candles on the sideboard myself after the dinner things were cleared away. But,’ he added hastily, as he saw the look of annoyance on the inspector’s face, ‘I like to think that if it had been missing, I’d have noticed it, unconsciously like. I like to suppose that I’d have gone over to the sideboard to see why things didn’t look quite right. And then I’d have seen it was missing, sir.’
‘Hmm. Well, suppose you’re right, that means that the candlestick was taken either last thing at night after the house was all locked up and everybody gone to bed, or else in the early hours of this morning.’
> ‘May I, sir?’
Sergeant Lane held out his hand to take the candlestick from the inspector, who was still clutching it in his plump hands.
‘It’s a nice piece, sir; solid but not too heavy.’
‘We’re not here to admire the silverware, Sergeant.’
‘No, sir, what I meant was that it would not have been difficult to carry this candlestick out to the maze. It isn’t cumbersome, and you wouldn’t have to be particularly strong. Don’t you see what I’m getting at, sir? A woman could have carried and wielded this candlestick just as easily as any man.’
Chapter Seventeen
It seemed to Rose that they had been left by themselves a very long time in the drawing room. With the exception of Cedric’s all too brief first interview with the inspector, not one of them had been summoned for an interview to provide an alibi for the time of Emmeline’s death. As a consequence, the mood in the drawing room became restive, and Rose wondered rather cynically whether that had been Inspector Bramwell’s intention. Perhaps he thought everyone would be more forthcoming, having first been cooped up together almost beyond endurance. Certainly not knowing what was happening or where the police were with their investigation was unsettling.
What little conversation there was became desultory, for no one was minded to open up in the presence of murder. Most had retreated into their own solitary inner worlds, doing the best they could to cushion themselves from thinking too deeply about what had occurred. Nevertheless, the prevalent atmosphere in the room was one of incredulity. Close on its heels was fear, which seemed to cover the very surfaces of the furniture, ebbing out into the shadows like a fog.
Glancing around the room, Rose noticed that the most frightened of them all appeared to be Jemima. Fear exuded from her like an odour and, unless Rose was mistaken, the girl was even now trembling, the effect of which was to make anyone standing close to her feel instinctively nervous and on edge. Vera in particular gave Jemima one quick, frightened little glance before moving to the other side of the room. Felix, Rose noticed, had at first been inclined to go over to Jemima and offer his support, but he had been discouraged by the girl’s resolute refusal to acknowledge his presence; if anything she physically drew back from him. She was only in the drawing room now because she had been obliged to join them, but her general demeanour was that of one who wished to be alone.
03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court Page 15