‘What’s keeping them from interviewing us, do you think?’ Felix whispered to Rose. ‘I’d have thought they’d want to get as much information from us as quickly as possible.’
‘They’re probably still examining the maze. Dusting for fingerprints and that sort of thing.’
But Rose felt the same uneasiness. It’s just the waiting, she thought, it’s not having anything to do but think. Cedric’s summing up of Inspector Bramwell was still ringing in her ears, and she could not help a feeling of foreboding prejudicing her view of a man she was yet to meet. She stared at the door, willing it to open. Surely Sergeant Lane had spoken with the servants by now?
‘Not that they’ll find many fingerprints with his lordship having so considerately wiped them away,’ Felix was saying. ‘No,’ he raised a hand as Rose made to protest, ‘don’t worry, I don’t mean to start all that again. But you’re familiar with this sort of thing, aren’t you, murder investigations, I mean?’
Rose was about to admit, rather reluctantly, that she did indeed have some experience in this area when, looking up, she caught Jemima’s eye. They had both been speaking quietly, huddled together a little way from the others, but even so she wondered whether Jemima had managed to catch a few words of their conversation. The girl was watching them closely now, she noticed, her eyes still red and swollen. After a brief moment’s hesitation, as if she were deciding quite what to do, weighing up the various alternatives in her mind, Jemima came over to them. She was still trembling slightly, and Rose saw that Felix was looking at her anxiously.
‘Do you know the policemen from Scotland Yard? Have you had dealings with them before?’
Jemima’s voice was rather breathless. She put out a hand and clung to Rose’s arm. It reminded Rose of Vera grabbing at her sleeve a few hours previously, and instinctively she stood back a step or two, but Jemima did not let go.
‘You spoke to the policeman in the hall earlier as if you knew him. Are they any good these Scotland Yard men do you know? Will they find poor E-emmie’s murderer?’
Rose noticed that Jemima stumbled over saying Emmeline’s name, as if it were all still too raw, too much for her to take in.
‘I can’t believe it. I still can’t believe she’s dead.’ The girl spoke the words quietly, barely above a whisper so that both Rose and Felix had to bend forward to catch her words. ‘I keep thinking that she’s going to walk into the room any minute and say that it was all a silly game.’
Jemima began to sob quietly. Felix helped her into a nearby chair and handed her a handkerchief, all the while looking on rather helplessly. It was plain to anyone who cared to observe that he did not know quite what else to do. Rose wondered why he did not take Jemima’s hand, and pondered whether her being there made him feel awkward or shy. She would have walked discreetly away, only she was conscious that she had not yet answered the question that had drawn Jemima to seek them out.
‘I know Sergeant Lane,’ replied Rose finally, choosing her words carefully, ‘and I hold him in the highest esteem. But I have never met Inspector Bramwell before, although I understand from Sergeant Lane that he has a very good reputation for getting results. Inspector Deacon investigated the two previous murder cases that Cedric and I were involved with, and he was very good. I expect Inspector Bramwell is of a similar calibre.’
‘Oh?’ Jemima stopped weeping and looked up. ‘Why isn’t your Inspector Deacon investigating this murder if you and Cedric think so highly of him? Can’t Lord Belvedere insist that he does? I assume the aristocracy can do that, can’t they? I would have thought they could.’ She sounded indignant as if it were all Cedric’s fault that Inspector Deacon was not there.
‘It isn’t up to Cedric, I’m afraid,’ said Rose, trying not to become riled by Jemima’s insinuation that Cedric was somehow to blame. ‘It’s the decision of the chief constable as to whether Scotland Yard is brought into an investigation or not and, as it happens, Inspector Deacon is not in a position to investigate Emmeline’s death.’
‘Oh? Why not?’
‘Because he is indisposed. He was shot in the course of carrying out his duties,’ Rose said bluntly.
On receiving this news, Jemima’s eyes became wide with horror and Rose, feeling guilty, hurried on.
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds. He wasn’t killed, but he was badly wounded, although he’s expected to make an almost full recovery. But it does mean that he won’t be able to investigate this murder.’
’That’s a pity,’ said Felix, appearing keen to take part in the conversation. ‘Still, if you know the sergeant, and this Inspector Bramwell has a reputation for being one of the best in his field, I daresay we have nothing to worry about. I say, Jemima, are you all right?’
Jemima did indeed look pale and, if possible, she looked even more distressed than before, despite Rose’s various assurances concerning Inspector Deacon’s fate and Inspector Bramwell’s competency to lead a police investigation.
‘Yes, I’m all right,’ Jemima said slowly, regaining her composure, but she walked away from them as if she no longer wished for their company.
‘Jemima really needn’t worry,’ said Rose to Felix. The young man was looking forlornly at Jemima’s retreating figure. ‘As I said, Sergeant Lane’s assured me that Inspector Bramwell is very good.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Felix almost whispering more to himself than to her so that Rose was forced to bend her head towards him to catch his words, ‘that’s the issue.’
Before Rose had an opportunity to ask Felix what he meant, the door opened and Sergeant Lane appeared. All eyes were immediately turned to stare at him, and the few conversations that had been in progress faltered. There was a general air of nervousness and trepidation in the room, now that the endless waiting was over, as everyone feared what was to follow. Cedric, who all the time that Rose had been talking to Felix and Jemima had been in whispered discussion with Lavinia, immediately came forward.
‘I say, Sergeant, not before time. We’re all feeling a bit like caged bears in here. I’m not meaning to criticise your police investigation or anything like that, and I’m not trying to teach grandmother to suck eggs, but I’m rather surprised that we haven’t been interviewed before now. It can’t help but make one wonder what you’ve been doing.’
‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ Sergeant Lane said looking, Rose thought, rather embarrassed. ‘I can assure you we’ve been very busy. We haven’t let the grass grow under our feet. As I told Miss Simpson, Inspector Bramwell likes to do things a bit differently from what you’re used to.’
‘Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Now, which one of us does your Inspector Bramwell wish to interview first? He said he’d be speaking to me again, but I expect he would like to interview Miss Wentmore first, wouldn’t he, being as she knew Miss Montacute better than all of us?’
Jemima, Rose noticed, looked particularly anxious at this suggestion. She appeared to have drifted towards Felix and was now holding his hand tightly, as if to give herself strength. Felix was regarding her with even more concern than before.
‘I don’t think Miss Wentmore is up to being interviewed yet,’ Felix said quickly. ‘Miss Montacute’s death has been the most awful shock to her, as I am sure you can appreciate. Perhaps you might interview someone else first to allow her a little more time to compose herself and come to terms with what’s happened.’ He gave the sergeant an engaging smile.
‘Not to fear, Mr Thistlewaite, is it? The inspector doesn’t want to interview Miss Wentmore first. No, he has someone else in mind completely.’
‘Good,’ said Felix. He turned his attention to Jemima, who was looking relieved at the temporary reprieve.
‘No, sir, as I say the inspector has someone else in mind,’ said Sergeant Lane. ‘The fact of the matter is, sir, that he’d like to interview you first.’
‘Me?’ Felix could not have sounded more surprised. He made no attempt to leave Jemima’s side. ‘There must be some mist
ake, Sergeant. I cannot imagine why the inspector would want to interview me first.’
‘Even so,’ replied the sergeant, firmly, ‘he does. This way if you please, sir. We don’t want to keep the inspector waiting, do we?’
For one moment Rose thought Felix was going to refuse to go. But if that had been his initial inclination, he obviously thought better of it. He turned to give Jemima one last look. For the first time she looked up and appeared to give him her full attention. It seemed to Rose that something silent and intense passed between them in that look, something that only they themselves could decipher; a secret look that meant nothing to anyone else.
Sergeant Lane coughed and the spell was broken. Felix made for the door to follow the policeman out. But Jemima, apparently on impulse, intervened. She sprang forward and then stopped a few steps away from him. Felix hesitated in the doorway as if unsure what to do. Rose could not make out the expression on his face, for he appeared to be experiencing a variety of emotions in those few moments. The whole room had become quiet, seemingly waiting to hear what Jemima had to say. But in the end she uttered only one word.
‘Felix – ’
‘It’s all right,’ Felix Thistlewaite said quickly, ‘everything’s going to be all right, Jemima.’
As soon as Felix Thistlewaite entered the study, Inspector Bramwell thought that the young man looked ill at ease. There was something about his freckled face and unruly hair that suggested that he usually had a nonchalant approach to life which, when coupled with the beginning of laughter lines, indicated that he was generally of a cheery disposition. But that could not be said of him today. He had an anxious look about him, which was accentuated by his fiddling with one of the buttons on his jacket. The young man was definitely wary. Although whether there was more to his present demeanour than not surprisingly being a little overwhelmed by the situation in which he unexpectedly found himself was difficult to determine. Certainly his attitude was not uncommon.
In Inspector Bramwell’s considerable experience no one, from whatever walk of life they might come, knew quite how to behave when faced with violent death. The subject of murder was not covered in any book on social etiquette. Murder, the inspector thought, had a tendency to bring out the best in people and also the very worst; the same, he thought, could be said of war, and involuntarily he shuddered. The Great War to end all wars did not seem so very long ago.
‘Look here, Inspector,’ said Felix, as soon as he walked into the room, obviously deciding to come straight to the point. ‘I can’t for the life of me think why you have decided to interview me first. I hardly knew Miss Montacute, and doubt very much if I can throw any light on her death. And I’m certain that I’m not in receipt of any information that would be important to your investigation. I’m not meaning to tell you how to do your job, but don’t you think you’d do better starting with someone else?’
‘All in good time, Mr Thistlewaite. Although I would be interested in knowing who you suggest I interview first.’
‘Well, Lady Lavinia, of course.’
‘Not Miss Wentmore? You surprise me, Mr Thistlewaite.’
The inspector spoke slowly, and left the words hanging in the air. There was an uncomfortable silence which neither man seemed inclined to break. Inspector Bramwell did not let his gaze falter. Felix meanwhile blushed and was looking everywhere but at the inspector’s face.
‘I take it from that, Inspector, that you are aware that I have formed an attachment to Miss Wentmore,’ Felix said at last. ‘But my reasons for suggesting that you interview Lady Lavinia first have nothing to do with that. She was the first person to come upon the body, hadn’t you heard?’
‘Indeed I had, thank you, Mr Thistlewaite. The local constable who was first at the scene was most diligent and informed me of that fact. No, I was rather surprised that you didn’t mention Miss Wentmore seeing that she was Miss Montacute’s friend-cum-companion.’
‘She had nothing to do with Emmeline’s death,’ Felix said quickly.
‘I’m not suggesting that she did, Mr Thistlewaite. I merely thought that you would quite understandably assume that as Miss Wentmore knew Miss Montacute rather better than anyone else here, well, she might be able to throw some light on why anyone would wish to kill the young lady.’
‘I think I see what you’re saying, Inspector,’ Felix said, passing a hand through his hair. ‘Although I am still a little confused. You still haven’t explained why you have decided to interview me first.’
‘There’s no need to fret, Mr Thistlewaite. As to why I have decided to see you before any of the others, well, that’s easy to explain.’ The inspector paused to steeple his fingers, and looked at them briefly as if the questions he wished to ask were written on them. ‘It’s exactly because you are on the periphery of this inquiry that I’ve decided to interview you first. You are a member of this house-party but not at its core, so you have been present to witness everything but unlikely to have had a major role. I’ll wager therefore that you’re likely to be more objective than the rest. Now, sit down if you will, Mr Thistlewaite, and paint the scene for me. I’d like to know what it was like here at Sedgwick Court leading up to the tragedy.’
‘Oh, if that’s the case, then of course I understand perfectly.’ Felix visibly relaxed and took the proffered seat, opposite the inspector, sinking back into its deep velvet upholstery. ‘But I’m not sure I can be of much help. It seemed a pretty ordinary house-party to me, not that I’ve been to that many. Of course these surroundings are particularly fine, but the guests alas are quite ordinary, myself included.’
‘You surprise me.’ The inspector looked at him quizzically, and Felix at once appeared flustered again. ‘I wouldn’t have thought there was much that was ordinary about an heiress and a foreign count, to say nothing about the British aristocracy. But then again, I can’t say I have frequented many house-parties myself. Have you, Sergeant?’
‘What I meant,’ replied Felix, clearly ruffled, ‘is that putting aside rank and position in society and such like, it was just an ordinary house-party.’
‘An ordinary house-party where one of the guests was murdered. Hmm … Suppose you tell us where you were this morning between about four o’clock and say seven o’clock?’
‘I say, is that when Emmeline was murdered? I know it might sound rather strange, but it makes me feel better knowing that she hadn’t lain out there all night. Frightful too, of course, to think that we were all fast asleep when the deed was done, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong.’ Felix paused a moment before going on. ‘So there you have it, Inspector, that’s my alibi, not a very good one at that. I was in bed at the time, as I am sure everyone else was except perhaps one or two of the servants. I daresay the scullery maid rises early to light the stove, doesn’t she? Unfortunately no one can corroborate my alibi.’
‘Now, Mr Thistlewaite, you say it was an ordinary house-party. In my experience there’s no such thing. When you gather a group of people together, particularly people from different walks of life, so to speak, and confine them in a place where they have only each other for company, even in a place as grand and beautiful as this one, then there are sure to be some petty squabbles and disagreements. Am I right?’
‘I’m afraid there were a few,’ admitted Felix.
‘Perhaps you would be so good as to elaborate, sir?’
‘Must I? It does seem rather a rotten thing to do.’
‘May I remind you that this is a murder investigation, sir?’
‘Very well. But if you are looking for a motive as to why anyone would want to murder Emmeline, I don’t think I can provide you with one.’ Felix sat up in his chair. ‘Now, let me think. I suppose one had better start with the count. An odd sort of chap, but popular with the ladies, or should I say some of them. I think both Lady Lavinia and Miss Montacute were rather taken with him. When we were on the Continent, I had the impression that he was a little more keen on Emmeline than Lavinia, although he always
made a point of being overly charming to both women.’
‘And this led to a squabble between the two women here at Sedgwick?’ The inspector sounded confused.
‘Not really, no. But it might have put Lady Lavinia’s nose out of joint a bit. One should probably not speak ill of one’s hostess, not when one is enjoying her hospitality, but she always strikes me as a woman who is used to being the centre of attention. Hardly a motive for murder though, Inspector.’
‘I agree,’ said Inspector Bramwell gravely, ‘particularly when Miss Montacute had shown a preference for Dr Harrison.’
‘Ah, so you know all about that too, do you?’ Felix sounded relieved. ‘How well informed you are, Inspector. I suppose even in the best of houses servants still gossip. Or perhaps Lord Belvedere told you?’
He waited a moment or two before going on, but Inspector Bramwell was not forthcoming about from whom he had obtained his information.
‘If you must know, it was dashed awkward for the rest of us,’ said Felix. ‘I mean to say, the fellow’s fiancée was here, still is, of course. Awfully embarrassing and upsetting for Miss Brewster. She tried not to let it get to her. She tried to put a brave face on it. I daresay she thought it was an infatuation that would fizzle out. Still, jolly humiliating for her.’
‘I see. Do you think Miss Brewster might have wished to do Miss Montacute harm?’
‘What? No, of course not!’ Felix jumped up from his seat. ‘What a monstrous suggestion. You’re putting words into my mouth, Inspector.’
03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court Page 16