01 - Murder at Ashgrove House

by Margaret Addison

  The inspector looked thoughtful as he digested this information and he saw Lane’s pen pause for a moment before the sergeant scribbled hurriedly, as if he was afraid that if he stopped writing for even a moment he would miss some vital piece of information before it evaporated. Before Deacon could ask any further questions of Sir William, Stafford appeared in front of his master as if he were some summoned genie, and the inspector marvelled at how a man of more than medium build like the butler could move so effortlessly and noiselessly in an old creaking house such as Ashgrove.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, I am very sorry to interrupt, but if I may have a word with you in private a moment.’ Sir William looked about to protest. ‘It is of the upmost importance, sir,’ said Stafford quickly, anticipating a refusal, ‘otherwise, of course, I wouldn’t have troubled you.’

  ‘Go ahead, Sir William,’ urged the inspector, ‘I’d like a quick word with my sergeant anyway.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, Inspector.’ Sir William looked hesitant. ‘Can’t think what it can be, but my butler’s not a man to make a fuss about nothing. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Well, what is it, Stafford?’ asked Sir William irritably, following his butler into the hall. ‘I take it, it is important. Not the done thing at all, you know, to take me away from the police when they’re interviewing me. It’s a man’s duty to help them, you know, and God knows we want this mess cleared up as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Naturally, sir, but what I have to say I thought you’d like to hear first, before we inform the police. If I may suggest, sir, that we go into the drawing room, where we can talk privately, I don’t think it’s in use now.’

  ‘Good God, man, what’s with all this cloak and dagger stuff? It’s not some game we’re playing, you know, Lady Belvedere is dead and ….’ He broke off as he caught sight of Edith Torrington looking over the banisters at him from the landing above. There was a desperate look on her face.

  ‘Edith, I … Run along, Stafford, go to your parlour and wait for me, I’ll be along in a minute.’

  ‘But, sir …’Stafford began to protest.

  ‘Go along, man, I’ll be with you shortly. I must speak with Mrs Torrington a minute.’

  As soon as Stafford had departed, Sir William was up the stairs at a pace hardly to be expected in a man half his age. He seized Edith’s hands and dragged her downstairs and into the empty drawing room, being careful to close the door behind him, so that they could not be overheard.

  ‘Edith, what have you done? You did it, didn’t you, after all I said, you went ahead and did it.’

  ‘William, I couldn’t help myself. She was evil, you know she was. She destroyed our happiness, I couldn’t let her get away with it. You don’t know how it feels to keep a secret such as I have all these years, afraid to tell anyone; afraid to tell my own husband. All my life has been a pretence one way or another, trying to pretend I was what I wasn’t. And then she destroyed my one chance of happiness. It eats away at one, you know, a pain like mine, until you’re half dead. I have felt a dreadful numbness all these years. I didn’t think anything could ever hurt me again and when I found out the Belvederes were here, and I knew I had an opportunity, my only chance to ….’ She broke off and sobbed uncontrollably. ‘Oh, what have I done, William. I wanted to hurt her, of course I did, but I never meant for this to happen, you must believe me. I just wanted to take away the happiness that she had taken away from me. But I never thought for a moment that it would end like this, you must believe me, I never imagined ...’

  ‘Pull yourself together, Edith, and quickly. We haven’t much time to decide what to do. We’ve got to think.’

  ‘I’ve already thought, William. I’ve done nothing but think since it happened. I am going to go to the police and hand myself in. I’m going to tell them that I did it, I’m going to confess.’

  ‘You’re going to do no such thing, Edith. Enough lives have been ruined by that woman. She’s got justice although the law won’t see it that way, of course. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the police don’t find out the truth. I’ve already put the wheels in motion, told the police a cock and bull story about how it must have been a poacher who shot her by mistake and is too frightened to come forward. Oh, Edith,’ he clasped her to him for a moment. ‘I feared as much, you know, that something would happen, but never this, no not this! If only I had managed to stop you, to convince you not to do it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, William, I’ve let you down, I know.’ She looked up into his strong, kindly face and stroked his cheek. ‘You’ll never be able to forgive me for what I have done, I know that. I don’t expect you to, I don’t deserve it. But I don’t want you to become embroiled in all this. It would break Connie’s heart if she found out the truth.’

  ‘Nonsense, I’ve always been here for you, Edith, you know that, and I always will be, whatever happens.’

  ‘Oh, William, you are too good to me, you always were.’ Edith disentangled herself from him. ‘But do you honestly think the police will believe your story about the poacher?’

  ‘Well, I’ve told it to the inspector. A young fellow, but pretty astute I’d say, from Scotland Yard, more’s the pity. A local chap might have swallowed the story better, whereas this chap, Deacon I think he said his name was, he looked pretty sceptical when I told him my theory. Still, I hardly think he can prove anything to the contrary, I can’t imagine any of us have watertight alibis, so he’ll have to go with it. He’s in an awfully difficult position, you know, most of his suspects being peers of the realm, let’s hope he won’t know how to deal with it. I’ve just got to make sure that they don’t arrest poor Archie Cutter, the fellow must have been carrying a gun if he was doing in the woods what I think he was doing.’ He took her firmly by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. ‘Edith, promise me you won’t do anything rash. Don’t go confessing. You must give me time to think what to do. Now, I’ve got to go, Stafford wants to talk to me urgently about something, damn the man, although at least it did give me the opportunity to speak to you before the police interviewed you. But I must go, he probably already thinks it a little odd that I wanted to stop and speak to you when he had something of importance to tell me. Stay here a couple of moments after I’ve gone before you leave, and then it won’t be obvious to anyone except Stafford that we’ve been together and he won’t say anything.’

  He made his way to the door but just before he opened it he turned, and looked back at her earnestly.

  ‘Promise me Edith, whatever happens you won’t say anything to the police, you’ll leave it to me to sort out, promise me.’

  Edith swallowed and said nothing, but she did smile briefly and which Sir William seemed to find a satisfactory response for he turned and left, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. Had he not been in such a hurry to go and see Stafford, he might have realised that Edith had crossed two fingers of the hand she held unseen behind her back, and he might not have been so content with her reply.

  ‘Do come in, Miss Simpson.’ Detective Inspector Deacon held open the library door and beckoned Rose towards the leather Chesterfield sofa.

  The library, for once, was empty of Lord Belvedere, who had been persuaded to leave and take up residence instead in Sir William’s study. The former room was considerably larger than the latter, and the policemen felt it made a more appropriate interview room.

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Deacon from Scotland Yard. Do take a seat. I appreciate that this must all have been a dreadful shock for you and you probably don’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it, but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.’

  Rose looked around feeling rather disorientated. She had not been in the library before and the man before her was a stranger. There was something in his manner however that put her at her ease, as if he was used to dealing with people in her condition, which she supposed he was, given his occupation.

/>   She caught sight then of Sergeant Lane, who was hovering behind the settee. Rose realised, even in her befuddled state, that he had positioned his chair in such a way that when she was seated he would be quite hidden from view. To begin with during the interview, she imagined him scribbling down her every word but later, as the interview progressed, she almost forgot that he was there.

  ‘I’d like you to tell me in your own words exactly what happened, Miss Simpson. Take your time. Perhaps we could start with how you came to be a guest here this weekend. I understand from Sir William that you’re a friend of Lady Lavinia’s and that it was she that invited you down to come and visit her aunt and uncle?’

  ‘Yes, I work in the dress shop with her. I expect Sir William’s told you all about that, the bet she had with her brother?’ Deacon nodded. ‘She and I got on well together, became friends, and so she invited me to come and stay for the weekend at Ashgrove; she sees it as her second home.’

  ‘I see. And what about the other guests, were you expecting them to be staying here too?’

  ‘Oh no, except for Mrs Torrington, that is, we knew she’d be here.’

  ‘Right, before I ask you anything else, I’d like you to tell me in your own words about today, leading up to Lady Belvedere’s death. Firstly, when did you arrange to go on this walk together?’

  ‘Lady Belvedere told me last night after dinner that she would like me to come for a walk with her this morning.’

  ‘I see. So you and Lady Belvedere got on well, then?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Rose looking, to Deacon’s mind, uneasy, ‘not exactly.’

  ‘So why then would she ask you to go for a walk with her?’

  ‘To warn me off, Inspector. She thought I had designs on her son.’

  ‘And do you?’ Rose averted her gaze seeming suddenly to find the pattern on the cushion immensely interesting; she did not answer.

  ‘Who else knew you were going on a walk with the countess this morning?’ asked Deacon, deciding not to press the matter.

  ‘I’m not sure, possibly everyone for all I know. You see Lady Belvedere asked, no it would be more accurate to say commanded me, in rather a loud voice. I thought at the time that she did it deliberately, to try and humiliate me.’

  ‘So you went on the walk and ended up in the woods?’

  ‘Yes, she wanted to make sure we weren’t overheard,’ said Rose looking up. ‘If you must know, she wanted me to pack my things and leave immediately. I refused to, and she didn’t take my refusal very well.

  ‘I see,’ said the inspector, thoughtfully, ‘so I take it your voices were probably raised at this point?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘I’m afraid we were both rather rude to each other, and very angry. But you see, neither of us was prepared to back down and the countess is ... was ... very used to always getting her own way. Then there was this silence,’ Rose shivered, ‘I can hardly describe it, it was so eerie and quiet, you really could have heard a pin drop. And then a twig snapped. We both heard it, but I thought nothing of it at the time, I mean it’s the sort of thing that you hear in a wood, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ agreed the inspector, ‘and then what happened?’

  ‘She … she was shot, oh, it was so awful,’ Rose covered her face with her hands. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind. One minute she was there glaring at me, and the next she was lying on the ground, dead, covered in blood. Oh, I can’t bear to think about it, but I can’t get the image out of my head, I –.’

  ‘Did you see who shot Lady Belvedere, Miss Simpson?’ Deacon interrupted, sharply.

  ‘No, of course not, otherwise I would have told you straightaway. I had my back to whoever it was, I didn’t see a thing. I wish now, of course, that I’d turned around, I wish I’d seen –.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well you didn’t, Miss Simpson, otherwise you might not be here now.’

  Rose was silent, taking in the enormity of the meaning of what he was saying; she began to shake.

  ‘Sir William thinks a poacher shot the countess by mistake.’ The inspector watched her closely.

  ‘Does he?’ Rose sounded surprised.

  ‘Yes, but you don’t think so, do you, Miss Simpson?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Lady Belvedere saw who pulled the trigger. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She knew what he was going to do before he shot her. It was deliberate, I’d swear it, and there’s something else,’ Rose’s voice had fallen to a whisper.

  ‘And what’s that?’ Deacon asked her sharply. Even Sergeant Lane seemed to be waiting for her reply, his pen poised above the page waiting to scribble down her answer.

  ‘Lady Belvedere knew her killer, Inspector, I’m sure she knew whoever it was that killed her.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘Seems a nice young lady, that, sir,’ said Sergeant Lane of Rose, as he took the opportunity to get up and stretch his legs and flex the fingers of his writing hand before the next interviewee was shown in.

  ‘Yes, she seems to be,’ said the inspector, not sounding wholly convinced. ‘But she had a clear motive for wanting rid of the countess, she admitted as much herself. And from what we’ve heard about Lady Belvedere, she wasn’t the sort of woman to stand back and allow her son to marry someone she didn’t approve of. Still, it must have been a very nasty experience for the poor girl, having someone shot dead in front of her and being out there all by herself in the wood.’

  ‘Do I take it, sir, that you are treating this as a murder investigation rather than as a tragic accident?’

  ‘I am, Lane. I don’t buy in to that poacher story of Sir William’s for a minute and neither, if I’m not mistaken, does the gentleman himself. I don’t blame him, of course, wanting it to be an accident, I would myself if I was in his shoes; the alternative will be jolly unpleasant for him and his wife. But there it is, Sergeant. There is no way that it could have been a poacher, even if Miss Simpson had not said what she did about Lady Belvedere recognising her killer.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand your reasoning, sir,’ said the sergeant, looking slightly confused.

  ‘Miss Simpson admitted that she and the countess were speaking in raised voices. They were having an argument, a pretty heated one by the sounds of it, one or other of them probably ended up shouting likely as not.’

  ‘I still don’t follow, sir.’

  ‘Any poacher who happened to be passing in the wood at the time would surely have heard them having their argument long before he actually came across them. Think, man, if he was out to trap a couple of rabbits and didn’t want to be caught doing so, the last thing he would have done would be to have made his way towards where the voices were coming from. No, it stands to reason that he would have given them a very wide berth and gone off promptly in the opposite direction. Whoever shot Lady Belvedere killed her deliberately, Sergeant, mark my words. This was a premeditated act. We’re looking for a cold blooded murderer.’

  There was a moment’s silence as neither man spoke.

  ‘That’s as may be, sir,’ said the sergeant at last, thinking it over, ‘but I can’t see Sir William giving up on his theory about a poacher easily.’

  ‘No, you’re right, he’ll cling to that notion for all it’s worth. He’s probably already convinced everyone staying in the house that is what happened, the most palatable explanation by far, mores the pity, because likely as not it will mean that they won’t be very co-operative or inclined to answer lots of questions if they think it was just a very tragic accident.’ The inspector paced up and down the room deep in thought. ‘Well, there’s only one thing for it, Lane.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  ‘We need to make sure that we find the murder weapon, and sooner rather than later. We need to knock this poacher nonsense on the head once and for all. I have a feeling that we won’t get anywhere with this case until we manage to convince t
hem all that this was indeed a murder.’

  ‘How are you feeling now, my dear?’ Edith tucked the blanket more closely around Rose’s shoulders and handed her the half full glass of brandy that Sir William had poured for her an hour or so ago, but which Rose had not felt up to finishing. On leaving the library and her interview with the policemen, she had returned to Edith’s room not knowing where else to go, aware only that she did not wish to be alone and left with her own thoughts lest the image of Lady Belvedere’s blood stained body should return unbidden.

  ‘Much better, thank you’, Rose gave a feeble smile. ‘I’m glad I’ve got my interview with the police over and done with, although I expect they’ll want to speak to me again because they didn’t ask me very many questions. You’ve all been very kind. I’m sorry to have put you to so much trouble, nursemaiding me, so to speak. It was the shock you see.’ She took a large gulp of the brandy and almost choked.

  ‘There, there, of course it was, my dear. Now why don’t I just take that glass from you while you lie down on the bed and try to get some rest? You’ll feel much better when you wake up, I’m sure.’

  ‘No, no, I couldn’t possibly, Edith. I must go and see Lavinia, has …. has she been told about … about –?’

  ‘Yes, yes don’t fret,’ Edith patted her arm gently, ‘Constance’s with her now, they’re comforting one another.’

  ‘And … and Cedric?’ asked Rose hesitatingly, blushing in spite of everything.

  ‘I think he’s shut himself up in his room. He wanted to be alone at first when he heard the news, but I think his father’s with him now, just as it should be. Don’t worry, he’ll be alright, you’ll see.’