‘Did Vera say anything important? Did she say anything about Emmeline’s death?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss Vera’s interview,’ Rose answered rather primly. ‘If you want to know what she said, I suggest you ask her.’
‘Please … don’t be like that.’
Jemima clung on to her sleeve, and it occurred to Rose that her sleeve had been held on to rather too many times that day already. She wondered how best to disentangle herself from Emmeline’s companion.
‘Please,’ said Jemima. ‘I don’t mean to sound inquisitive. I was just wondering whether the police were any nearer finding Emmeline’s murderer, that’s all. It’s not that surprising, is it? And … there is something else I wanted to ask you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Will you come in with me when I’m interviewed?’
‘Me? Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Felix to go in with you?’
‘No … I … Well, you’re used to this sort of thing, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, all right. I will if you’d like me to.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much. You don’t know how grateful I am to you,’ Jemima said, her lip trembling.
The door opened and Sergeant Lane walked into the room.
‘Miss Wentmore. The inspector would like to interview you now if you’d just come this way.’
‘Miss Simpson! What are you doing here?’
This time, Rose noticed, the inspector made little pretence at being polite.
‘I should like Miss Simpson to stay with me while I’m being interviewed, Inspector,’ answered Jemima nervously. ‘I believe you allowed her to be present during your interview with Miss Brewster?’
The inspector snorted and said: ‘It would appear, Miss Simpson, that you are fulfilling the role of ladies’ chaperone. Stay if you must, but this time please do not try to interrupt the proceedings.’
Sergeant Lane drew up the same chair as before, and Rose sat down beside Jemima, very conscious that her presence was being tolerated by the inspector under sufferance.
‘I realise that Miss Montacute’s death must have been a great shock to you, Miss Wentmore. You have my sympathies.’
Jemima made no acknowledgement other than to nod slightly and look miserably down at her hands, which were clasped tightly together in her lap.
‘For our records I’d like you to give me your full name, miss, if you please.’
‘Jemima Mary Wentmore.’
‘Mary, eh? Taken a note of that, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Sergeant Lane from his corner.
A puzzled look appeared on Jemima’s face as she looked from one policeman to the other. She swallowed hard, and Rose thought that she looked even more apprehensive than before.
‘Suppose you tell us how long you’ve been Miss Montacute’s companion?’
‘Almost two years, I think … Yes, it would have been two years in March.’
‘I understand that you are a distant relative of the Montacutes. Now, just so that I can get it clear in my mind, Mr Montacute employed you as a companion to his daughter, am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you were paid for your services? You didn’t reside in the Montacute establishment on account of your being a member of the family, so to speak?’
‘Mr Montacute gave me a very generous allowance,’ Jemima said, her cheeks going crimson.
‘So you were paid for your services as companion to Miss Montacute?’ persisted Inspector Bramwell.
‘I suppose I was. I never really thought of it like that.’
‘Indeed! You surprise me, Miss Wentmore. This allowance you were given. You say it was generous and yet you dress, if you will forgive me for saying, a little dowdily, a little shabbily even. If I didn’t know better, I would have put you down as being a lady’s maid. Don’t you like fine clothes? Or doesn’t your allowance stretch that far?’
‘Yes … no … yes … I don’t know.’
‘You sound rather flustered, if you don’t mind my saying, Miss Wentmore. I would have thought my question was a perfectly simple one to answer. Tell me. Did you like Miss Montacute? I don’t like to speak ill of the dead but, from what I’ve heard, she sounded like rather a selfish and vain young lady.’
‘She wasn’t like that at all, Inspector.’
For the first time Jemima sounded indignant. Her eyes, Rose noticed, were flashing with something akin to anger.
‘No? Young Mr Thistlewaite was very vexed at the way Miss Montacute treated you. Said she treated you no better than a servant.’
‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’
‘Doesn’t he? I have it on good authority that you and he were rather fond of each other. You met in Florence, I understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you are fond of him?’
‘I was … Now I’m not so certain.’
‘Oh? And why is that, pray?’ The inspector looked interested.
‘I’m not interested in anything anymore. Not now that Emmeline’s dead. It’s all I can think about … her death. It’s all so awful. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand – ’
‘That’s quite natural, I would imagine,’ said the inspector, a touch of sympathy in his voice. ‘You were very close, I assume?’
‘We were like sisters.’
‘Sisters, huh? Well that must have been nice. Company for each other. You almost lived the life of a recluse in Scotland, I understand.’
‘What utter nonsense! Of course we didn’t. Mr Montacute was always throwing parties and balls.’
‘But you didn’t leave the house in the Highlands much?’
‘We weren’t kept prisoners, if that’s what you’re implying. We were free to come and go as we wished.’
‘As long as you were accompanied by Mr Montacute or some of his servants?’
‘Mr Montacute was very protective of Emmeline, and with good reason. He was afraid another kidnap attempt would be made. And he was right to be frightened, wasn’t he?’
‘Was he? Miss Montacute was murdered, not kidnapped. Tell me, Miss Wentmore, whose idea was it that you and Miss Montacute should go to the Continent alone?’
‘Emmeline’s.’
‘Are you certain about that? Mr Montacute’s secretary thought it was your idea.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yes. He seemed very certain, so he did. Now what’s the name of the fellow? … Sugden, is it?’
‘Stapleton, Inspector,’ said Jemima.
‘Ah, that’s right, so it is. Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. Stapleton’s convinced it was your idea. What do you say to that?’
‘Yes ... I remember now. Of course. How stupid of me. He is quite right. It was my idea to go to the Continent. But it was Emmeline’s idea to come here to Sedgwick. Silly of me. I was thinking of Sedgwick not the Continent.’
‘Confused again, Miss Wentmore? Dear me!’
‘I’ve never been involved in a murder investigation before, Inspector. I’m afraid you’re making me feel rather nervous.’
‘Am I? Oh, dear. Really, Miss Wentmore, there is no reason for you to be nervous of me unless you committed the deed in question.’
‘The deed in question?’
‘Killed Miss Montacute.’
‘Oh!’ Jemima clasped her hand to her mouth and her eyes went very wide.
‘Surely you don’t think I did it? I loved Emmeline. Why should I wish her dead?’
‘Why indeed, Miss Wentmore? Unfortunately for you, I can think of a number of reasons. Shall I go through them one by one? Get them clear in my mind, so to speak.’ The inspector did not wait for a response. ‘Do you remember poor Mr Thistlewaite for whom you no longer appear to hold any affection? Well, that young man went out of his way to accuse everyone else but you of the murder. Yet you were overheard having a conversation with him in the gardens yesterday, suggesting that you might be able to get hold of a considerable amount of money.’
‘Was I? Overheard saying that, I mean?’
‘You were. Tell me, Miss Wentmore, do you benefit under the terms of Miss Montacute’s will?’
‘Yes.’
‘Considerably?’
‘Very considerably. But I didn’t murder my friend, I promise you. And it’s not what you think, what I said about the money.’
‘What did you mean by it then?’
Jemima stared miserably at the floor and declined to give an answer.
‘Very well. If you will not tell us, we can only think the worst. Unfortunately for you, Miss Wentmore, that is not all. We happen to know, for instance, that you stole Miss Montacute’s diamond necklace.’
‘What did you say, Inspector?’ Rose said. It was the first time she had spoken since entering the study.
‘Miss Simpson. I almost forgot you were here, you were keeping so quiet. What a pity you have gone and spoilt it. I think I have already told you not to interrupt.’
‘But, Inspector –’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Inspector,’ Jemima said, a note of panic evident in her voice. ‘I didn’t steal Emmeline’s diamonds.’
‘Didn’t you? And yet Miss Montacute’s jewel box was found hidden on the landing with its lock broken.’
‘I don’t see why you think that has anything to do with me. I had no need to break the lock. You see, I have the key.’
Jemima produced from her handbag a small brass key which she handed to the inspector. He in turn took out of a drawer in the desk a finely polished mahogany jewellery box with stepped detail to the lid. The wood of the box was smooth except for around the lock. Here the wood was splintered and raw, showing signs of where the lock had been forced. Inspector Bramwell proceeded to open the box to reveal a maroon-coloured, velvet lining.
‘Is this Miss Montacute’s jewel box?’
‘Yes.’
The Inspector took out the top tray and put his hand in the box, from where he retrieved a necklace consisting of yellow diamonds, mounted in platinum and rose gold.
‘You found that necklace in the jewellery box even though the lock was broken?’ asked Rose in surprise. ‘So whoever broke the lock didn’t take the diamonds. I wonder why not.’
‘We have wondered that ourselves, Miss Simpson. This is the very necklace that I showed you earlier, if you recall. The necklace you identified to us as the one Miss Montacute was wearing the evening before last.’
‘I think I said it looked like the one Miss Montacute was wearing,’ corrected Rose. ‘I couldn’t swear that it was the same one. Just as I cannot swear now that this necklace is the same one you showed to me earlier.’
‘But at the very least, it is remarkably similar to the one Miss Montacute was wearing, is it not? I have also been told that it bears some resemblance to the necklace which forms part of the Montacute Diamonds.’
‘It’s not that necklace, Inspector, if that’s what you’re inferring.’ Jemima said, shifting awkwardly in her seat. ‘The necklace in the Montacute Diamonds collection is made up of much larger yellow diamonds than these, and they are surrounded by many small, white diamonds, which you will see these aren’t.’
‘I do remember Emmeline mentioning the surrounding of white diamonds,’ Rose said helpfully. ‘She also said that the Montacute Diamonds were kept at the bank. I don’t think this necklace could possibly be from that collection, Inspector.’
‘Unless it had been taken from the bank. I assume it is taken out to wear on special occasions?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Jemima. ‘But this is hardly a special occasion, Inspector. The necklace is not what you think it is.’
‘Maybe not. But the diamonds in this necklace are still remarkable, Miss Wentmore. I think they’d be worth stealing, don’t you? They’d raise a pretty penny, I’m sure.’
‘Actually they wouldn’t. I’m afraid you’re rather making a fuss about nothing, Inspector,’ Jemima said rather wearily. ‘I agree the necklace looks very grand. I would go so far as to say that it could even be mistaken for the one from the Montacute Diamonds collection by someone who had not seen the original. But you see this necklace is –’
‘A fake. A paste replica, if you will. Is that what you were about to say, Miss Wentmore?’ asked Inspector Bramwell, leaning forward to study her closely. ‘Because, you’re quite right. You see we already know the diamonds in this necklace aren’t real. We had an expert look at it as soon as it was found. And he told us just that. A very good fake, but a paste copy nevertheless.’
‘If you already knew it was a paste copy,’ began Jemima, sounding annoyed, ‘then –’
‘Just because this necklace is a paste replica, Miss Wentmore, it does not follow that the one Miss Montacute was wearing the night before last was a fake.’
‘I’m not sure that I understand what you’re saying, Inspector.’ Jemima had gone very pale.
‘Oh, I think you do, Miss Wentmore. I think you know very well what I’m saying.’ The inspector sat back in his chair and studied her. ‘Shall I tell you what I believe? Miss Montacute wore the genuine necklace the night before last. If you remember it was examined closely by everyone present by means of looking through a jeweller’s loupe. We happen to be of the opinion that at least one person there, the owner of the jeweller’s lens, is an expert in diamonds. I am of course referring to Count Fernand, who has confirmed to us that the diamonds in Emmeline’s necklace were genuine. He said they were quite fabulous to use his own words.’
‘Then he was mistaken,’ cried Jemima. ‘Only the paste necklace was brought to Sedgwick Court.’
‘If that was the case, why was Miss Montacute so keen to take part in a game that would reveal that her diamonds were fake?’
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Rose, joining in the conversation, ‘she viewed it as a bit of a game. Miss Wentmore has just told us that the necklace was a very good paste replica. Perhaps Miss Montacute wanted to see if anyone would notice that the diamonds weren’t real.’
‘You really will not keep quiet, will you, Miss Simpson?’ Inspector Bramwell sighed and frowned at the same time, his small, watery eyes almost disappearing into the deep folds of his face. ‘But to answer your point. If Miss Montacute really thought of it as a game, seeing if she could pass off fake diamonds as the genuine article, then would she not have laughed and made a bit of a show of it at the end? Would she not have told everyone how amusing it all was that they had been so easily taken in? But she didn’t, did she? She said nothing. She was as keen as anyone to look at the diamonds under the jeweller’s lens. And that tells me that Miss Montacute at least believed the necklace to be genuine.’
For a few moments no one said anything at all.
Jemima then explained: ‘Emmeline thought that we’d brought the genuine necklace with us. But I was anxious as to its safety. The real necklace is very valuable, Inspector. I didn’t think that Mr Montacute would want us to go travelling with it. So at the last moment I substituted the paste necklace for the real one. I didn’t tell Emmeline because I knew she would make a fuss about it. If truth be told, I thought it highly unlikely that she’d notice.’
‘That’s all very well, Miss Wentmore. It even sounds plausible if it were not for the jewellery box.’
‘I have told you, Inspector, that it has nothing to do with me. I did not tamper with that box. I had no need to. I have the key.’
‘The fingerprints on the jewellery box had been wiped off, as one might expect.’
‘There you are, Inspector.’ Jemima looked relieved. ‘As I said, what has it all to do with me?’
‘All the fingerprints except for one or two, Miss Wentmore. And they are yours. Can you explain to me please how that can be if you were not the last person to handle this box?’
Chapter Twenty-seven
Rose glanced at Jemima. The revelation that the inspector had proof that she was the last person to have handled the tampered jewellery box had caused the girl’s face to become ashen
. She was playing with the material of her skirt, rolling it between her fingers as if the action would afford her more time. All the while she worried with her skirt, she was staring at the desk top in front of her, as if the answer to her dilemma was written on its polished surface.
Finally Jemima took a deep breath and said in a quiet voice devoid of emotion: ‘Very well, Inspector. I was the last person to touch that box.’ She let out a sigh that was almost pitiful. ‘If you must know, I found it in my room this morning when I was dressing. Someone must have put it there. I saw at once that the lock had been forced, but that the necklace was still inside. I wanted to speak to Emmeline about it this morning before breakfast, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. After breakfast, when we discovered she was missing, I decided to say nothing about the box until she had been found. When we discovered that she had been … murdered …’
‘Go on please, miss.’
‘Well, naturally all thoughts of the box went completely from my mind. It was only later when I was in my room and saw the box again that I realised what someone was trying to do. They were trying to implicate me in Emmeline’s death. I was scared and at my wits end. At the first opportunity, I got rid of the box.’
‘That sounds to me a highly improbable story, Miss Wentmore, if you don’t mind my saying,’ said the inspector at length. ‘Shall I tell you what I believe? I think, far from being fond of Miss Montacute, you resented her. She had wealth, beauty and a doting father. She could have everything she wanted. You, on the other hand, had very little in comparison. You were a poor relation who was treated like little more than a servant, expected to wait on a woman to whom you were related.’
‘No! You’ve got it all wrong, Inspector.’
‘To make matters worse, the woman in question was vain and selfish, and I suspect a little stupid. Whereas you, Miss Wentmore, I will hazard a guess are of more than average intelligence. It must all have seemed very unfair to you. But for an accident of birth, you would have been the wealthy young lady, and Miss Montacute the servant. As if that were not enough, you were constantly surrounded by the things that you coveted in life, which would never be yours.’
03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court Page 26