Feted to Die: An Inspector Constable Murder Mystery

by Roger Keevil

  “How would that be exactly, madam?” put in Sergeant Copper, who was beginning to feel a sense of disorientation.

  “Don’t you see, sergeant? We could just postpone for a bit, and then all the publicity would bring the crowds flocking in. We might make even more money. Of course, I’d have to replace Horace.”

  “That certainly would be necessary, my lady,” commented Constable in dry tones. “Given the late Mr. Cope’s current … indisposition.”

  “Oh, yes. Poor Horace. Actually, he was very good at what he did. Not a charlatan at all. Not like some of these other media clairvoyants. Oh sorry, darling.” Lady Lawdown glanced over her shoulder towards the seated figure of Seymour Cummings. “No offence. Tell me, inspector, did you ever read Horace’s column?”

  “Actually no, your ladyship,” confessed Constable. “In fact, before today, I have to admit I’d never even heard of Mr. Cope.”

  “Goodness! That is a surprise. It was amazing, some of the things he could tell you.” And with a brisk switch of tone, “Well, I won’t keep you, inspector, because I suppose you must get on.”

  “If we may. Is there by any chance a room we can use?” He looked around the assembled company. “I shall need to speak to all of you, starting with the person who discovered Mr. Cope’s body.”

  “That’s the vicar,” responded Lady Lawdown, “but he’s upstairs at the moment. Poor man, he came tottering in, gasped out that he’d found Horace, and went out like a light. When he came round we poured a brandy down him and sent him upstairs to lie down. Laura will fetch him for you, won’t you, darling. And I suppose you’d better use the library if you want to talk to people. There’s nobody in there.”

  Dave Copper couldn’t help himself. “No Body in the Library, eh? I bet that makes a nice change.” Six pairs of eyes gazed at him blankly. From alongside him came a low growl from his superior officer. “Sorry.”

  After a moment’s frozen pause, Lady Lawdown resumed as if nothing had happened. “Laura darling, would you show the gentlemen the way. I’m going to have another drink, if you don’t mind, inspector. I’m absolutely frazzled.” She turned back to the drinks table.

  Laura Biding led the detectives back into the hall and closed the drawing room door behind them.

  “Can we just check the layout of the house first, miss,” enquired Sergeant Copper. “It may be important.”

  “Certainly, sergeant. What would you like to know?”

  “What’s through that door there?” Copper gestured to the door opposite the drawing room door.

  “That’s the dining room, but we hardly ever use it these days, unless Mother’s having a big dinner party. We usually eat in the morning room – that’s this door opposite the flower room corridor, and you know where that goes.”

  Dave Copper poked his head through the green baize door to refresh his memory. “And these doors in here?”

  “That one on the right goes through to the kitchen, the one next door is just a loo, and the one on the left leads back into the dining room. Whoever designed this house was really quite clever,” Laura remarked, as Copper rejoined her in the hall. “We actually get our food hot. This door here on the left doesn’t actually lead to the kitchen – it’s just a dummy to match the library door. And the library’s in here.”

  She opened a door at the foot of the stairs and gestured her companions inside. The detectives entered a leather-furnished room with dark oak panelling and two book-lined walls. Heavy velvet curtains subdued the light from the windows, which gave on to the lawns and lake.

  “This will do very nicely, miss,” said Inspector Constable. “Thank you.”

  Laura Biding hesitated on the threshold of the room. “Inspector …”

  “Yes, miss?”

  “You’ll have to forgive my mother – she’s got a funny way of looking at things sometimes. I’d hate you to get the wrong impression.”

  “Not at all, Miss Biding. It is ‘Miss’, is it? I mean, you being her ladyship’s daughter. Or is it ‘The Honourable’? We wouldn’t want to cause offence by getting it wrong.”

  Laura smiled. “No, inspector, just plain Laura Biding. My dad was Mother’s first husband, so I don’t get a title. But I don’t think anyone worries about things like that these days, do they? So, would you like me to go up and fetch Mr. Pugh?”

  “I think we can leave the vicar for a little later, miss. If he was as shocked as your mother said, it sounds as if a bit of a rest might not go amiss. But if we can just have a word with you first …”

  “Would you like me to take notes, sir?” Copper seemed keen to return to the investigation.

  “Thank you for the reminder, sergeant,” replied the inspector with a shade of annoyance. “Please take a seat, Miss Biding. Although it seems a little odd to invite you to sit down in your own house, but I’m afraid we do have to ask you some questions about Mr. Cope’s murder.”

  “Poor Uncle Horace! Isn’t it awful!”

  “Uncle Horace? You mean he was …”

  “Oh no,” responded Laura hastily. “Don’t misunderstand me. I called him Uncle, but he wasn’t actually a relative – he was one of those old friends of the family. He’s been around forever, and he was always buying me presents and taking me out to the theatre or for meals and so on. I expect it was because I was an only child. Perhaps he thought I was lonely.”

  “So very close then?”

  “I think he even introduced my mother to my stepfather. Sorry, that’s Lord Lawdown, of course. It’s a bit complicated, isn’t it?” She looked up wide-eyed at Andy Constable.

  “I think we get the general gist, miss,” the inspector reassured her. “And Lord Lawdown himself died a little while ago, I believe.”

  “Yes,” assented Laura. “So my mother’s a widow now. Twice over, actually.”

  “So your real father …?”

  “Oh, he died when I was a tiny child. I hardly remember him at all. It wasn’t the sort of thing that got talked about when I was growing up.”

  “No, of course, miss. I quite understand.” Inspector Constable thought for a moment. “Can you tell me who was in the house at the time of the murder.”

  Laura reflected. “There was Mother and me, and we had a few people in for drinks before the start of the fete. There’s Seymour, who’s staying with us … Mother’s friend Helen from the village … Robin, that’s another friend … Horace’s cousin Albert … and of course Mr. Pugh. That’s the vicar – he was supposed to open the fete at one o’clock. Oh, I almost forgot – Amelia Cook was in the kitchen because Mother asked her to do the catering. Amelia runs the village tearooms, you see. Good Lord – I hope she’s not still in there making sandwiches!”

  “Don’t worry, miss, we’ll check on that. So you’re sure that nobody else was in the house at the time of the crime? No servants?”

  “No, we don’t have any live-in staff. There’s Mrs. Richards who comes up from the village in the mornings to do the cleaning, but she’s always gone long before mid-day, which is when Uncle Horace arrived.”

  “Could anyone else have gained access to the house without you knowing? After all, you did have a large number of people in the grounds.”

  “I can’t see how. The front door was open, but I’m sure nobody could have got past the drawing room without being seen. We always keep the house quite secure these days. We had a burglary a few months ago – nothing too serious, mostly just a few pieces of silver, but there’s not really all that much in the way of valuables left to steal these days. Anyway, after that, we always make sure that the doors are locked.”

  “What doors are there, miss?” asked Sergeant Copper. “I am going to have to check.”

  “Not that many, actually. There is a door to the kitchen from the stable yard, but that’s one of the ones we keep locked, and Amelia was in there anyway. The french windows in this room and the drawing room are always bolted, and so are the ones out on to the West Terr
ace from the dining room. The door from the flower room is usually open, but the terrace only leads to the Secret Garden anyway, and the gate in there is always locked.”

  “We know that, miss,” replied Copper. “We tried it. Can you let us have a key, please.”

  “Certainly, sergeant. There’s one hanging on a hook in the flower room. I used it yesterday. Would you like me to fetch it for you?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Biding,” said Inspector Constable. “I think that’s all for the moment. If you could just pop the key in to us, and then ask the other lady if she could come through.”

  Laura Biding left the library, and reappeared in only a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry, inspector. That key … it’s gone.”

  Helen Highwater knocked at the library door.

  “Please come in, madam. Have a seat.” Dave Copper indicated a chair in front of the desk, behind which Inspector Constable had taken position. The sergeant seated himself unobtrusively near the fireplace.

  “I’m afraid I have to ask you some questions about today’s events, madam. We’ll try not to keep you too long.”

  “Oh, I quite understand, inspector. You have your duty to do. And Sandra says you’re very good, so I’m sure you’ll have everything sorted out in a tick. Sandra’s such a good judge of character.”

  “Sandra?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, inspector. I meant Lady Lawdown, of course. I forgot that you don’t know her as well as I do. Yes, we’ve known each other for years. Ever since she came to live here, which of course is ages ago now. And her husband was a dear, dear friend. Now he was a lovely man. Such a shame he died. I was very upset. But Sandra just picked herself up and got on with everything. Said she had to keep the Lawdown flag flying over the Hall, so she carried on with all the traditions, and she’s so devoted to public service, and of course things like the fete are so important in a village like this, don’t you agree? So that’s why we were all here today, because Sandra always has a little party for a few of her friends just before the fete starts, and of course she asked me, and I think I was the first to arrive. So …” She took a deep breath. “How can I help you?”

  The inspector blinked. “I think we’d better start with your name, please.”

  “Sorry, inspector. I’ve got used to everybody knowing who I am. It’s living in a village, I suppose. I’m Helen Highwater.” Inspector Constable’s face registered no recognition. “The author …”

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Highwater …”

  “Miss.”

  “I beg your pardon … Miss Highwater.” The inspector was apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m not terribly well up on authors.”

  “Oh, but I’m sure you must have heard of my books about my schoolgirl magician, Carrie Otter. But of course, that’s under my pen name of Jake A. Rawlings.”

  “You’re Jake A. Rawlings?” interrupted Copper, astonished. “You wrote the Carrie Otter books? That’s amazing. Those books are great!”

  “Do you have children then, sergeant?” enquired Helen.

  Dave Copper blushed. “Actually, no, Miss Highwater. I mean, I read them myself.” And in response to Inspector Constable’s quizzical look, “I happen to think they’re very exciting. I reckon I must be one of your biggest fans.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say so, sergeant. I have to confess, sometimes I can’t believe how successful they’ve become myself. I’ve had so many awards for my latest book – ‘Carrie Otter and the …’”

  “… Half-Boiled Pants!’” joined in the sergeant in chorus. “Oh, that one was brilliant. I loved the bit where Carrie, Don, and Evadne drink the Multimix Medicine and then …”

  “Of course we’re very familiar with your works, Miss Highwater,” broke in Inspector Constable, determined to regain control of an interview which seemed in danger of wandering from the point, “but I’m afraid we don’t really have time to discuss them now. We have the rather more pressing matter of Mr. Cope’s death to investigate.”

  “Ah, yes, Horace.” A note of reserve entered Helen’s voice. “Of course, you can’t please everyone all the time, and I’m afraid Horace was not quite as kind about my last book as you, sergeant. In fact, I thought that he could have been more polite in his review column, but of course we authors have to put up with a little criticism from time to time. But I’ve never been one to hold a grudge.” She smiled brightly. “So, yes … Horace. I suppose you want to ask me where I saw him and when, and all those other searching questions. I’ve read all those detective books, you know. Of course, I’ve never actually written one, because I don’t know that I have the sort of mind to work out all those intricate things about alibis and motives and forensics and so on. It’s so much easier with Carrie, you see. If she gets into a tight spot, I just get her to do a bit of magic, and it seems to solve everything. I expect you wish you could do that sometimes, inspector. It would make your job so much easier, wouldn’t it, as well as …”

  “So what can you tell us about Mr. Cope’s movements today?” Inspector Constable forced his way into Helen’s increasingly rambling flow.

  “Well … hardly anything, really.” The inspector barely stopped himself sighing. “As I say, I was here first, and then Laura came in, and the poor dear was absolutely worn out because she’d been rushing about all morning – it’s always like that on the day of the fete, and really it’s a miracle that she stays as calm as she does, and I know for a fact that I could never do half as good a job with all the organisation …” She tailed off. “Now, where was I?”

  “You had just arrived, madam.” Sergeant Copper’s calm voice was a contrast to Helen’s breathless twittering. “And Miss Biding had come in …”

  “That’s right. It’s so important to be clear, isn’t it? Oh yes, and then Mr. Pugh appeared, and he was quite puffed out because he’d walked all the way up from the village, and the walk up from the front gates is a lot steeper than it seems when you’re driving, and if only I’d noticed him I could have given him a lift in my little car. Ah … yes!”

  “Yes, Miss Highwater?” enquired Constable.

  “Yes!” Helen was triumphant. “That was when Horace arrived! Just after the vicar. And he had Albert with him. But he didn’t stay long, because he said he had to get his things set up, and he wanted Albert to do his make-up for him, but Laura persuaded Albert to stay for a drink, so off Horace went, and so that was that.” She looked at Constable expectantly. “Will that do, inspector?”

  There was one thing puzzling the inspector. “Make-up?”

  “Oh, something about eyebrows,” explained Helen airily. “I didn’t really pay attention. All to do with his ‘character’, apparently. I don’t understand all this showmanship. But I suppose people have their own ways of looking at things.”

  “I don’t think we need to keep you any longer, Miss Highwater,” said Inspector Constable. “But we may need to speak to you again later, so please don’t leave the premises.”

  “Don’t worry, inspector,” replied Helen with dignity. “I don’t intend to run away. I shall be staying to support Sandra – this can’t be very nice for her. I’m a great believer in duty.” She turned to Dave Copper. “Goodbye, sergeant. Thank you so much for all those kind things you said about my books. You must look out for the new book when it comes out next month – it’s called ‘Carrie Otter and the Deadly Pillows’. In fact, if you like, I’ll sign a copy for you.”

  “That’d be wonderful.”

  “Well, it’s the last chance you’ll get. It is the last in the series, and I think it’s the best, but of course, we’ll have to wait to see what the public thinks. And there’s a big secret ending, but I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you.” And with a twinkle, she was gone.

  “I appear to be next in line for the inquisition, inspector.” Seymour Cummings entered the library with an air of calm self-assurance. “I take it this is the interrogation chair. What would you like to know?”

>   “I think your name would be most helpful to begin with, if you don’t mind, please, sir.” Andy Constable’s affable smile and warm tone did not deceive Dave Copper, who winced internally. He knew that his superior officer was always inclined to dislike and distrust over-confidence in a murder suspect.

  “My name is Seymour Cummings.” He turned to Dave Copper. “Do you need me to spell that for you, sergeant?”

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, sir. I have heard of you.” He smiled in his turn. “The er … gentleman is a newspaper clairvoyant, sir,” he explained.

  “Another? Well …” Constable let the sentence hang in the air. “And how did you come to be here today, Mr. Cummings?”

  “I happened to be staying with Sandra Lawdown for a few days. I do that quite often. We’ve known each other for years. Oh, nothing of that kind,” he explained hastily. “We’re just good friends, if you’ll pardon the cliché.”

  “And you were also acquainted with the late Mr. Cope, I assume?”

  “Yes, inspector. In fact, you’re absolutely right to put me in the frame. I suppose you could say that Horace Cope and I were deadly enemies.”

  “Really, sir? In what way?” Andy Constable leaned forward intently.

  “Now don’t get me wrong, inspector. That was just a joke. On reflection, not a particularly funny one. But Horace had his column in the Evening Sin, and I have mine in the Daily Stir, and you know what newspapers are like. They’re always trying to get one over on their competitors – it’s all to do with circulation and advertising revenue and all the sordid financial side of things. The trouble is, so often the contributors get caught up in it and it all turns very nasty. I’m sure you’ve heard of spoiler headlines and people stealing exclusives and all sorts of dirty tricks. Nothing of that sort between Horace and me, of course. It was a friendly rivalry, really. Professional.”