by T E Kinsey
‘What a load of rubbish,’ he said. ‘She was in his room last night. I walked in on ’em this mornin’, just as she was getting out of bed. He gave me a sovereign to keep me mouth shut.’
‘You probably ought to give it back,’ I said.
‘Ha-ha, very funny. I reckon he’d think it was worth it if I saved ’em from the noose.’
‘He would, I’m sure. But you can’t be certain they were in there all night, can you? They would have been able to get down to the coach house and still be back in time for you to catch them. Maybe you didn’t “catch” them. Maybe that was part of the plan. Maybe you were their alibi.’
He frowned. ‘Look, Miss Armstrong, I didn’t pay no attention at school. Truth is, I hopped the wag more often than I showed up. It’s only Old Man Spinney’s naggin’ that’s got me readin’ at all, so I ain’t no scholar like you or Lady H. But I ain’t stupid, neither. And if anyone in this house knows about alibis, it’s me. They weren’t up to no good. Well, unless you count . . . you know . . . what they were up to.’ He blushed and turned away slightly.
I had one more card to play. ‘Miss Buffrey says that her mistress’s tweeds are missing. She has convinced herself that they’re hidden away, covered in blood from the murder.’
He laughed. ‘She’s almost right,’ he said. ‘They are hidden away, and they are covered in something, but it’s mud, not blood. It was the other day – Thursday, I reckon – and they’d been off together in the afternoon. When I went to see if he needed any help gettin’ dressed for dinner in the evening, he gave me some clothes. “There’s ten bob in it for you if you can get these cleaned and no one the wiser,” he says. It was a tweed skirt and jacket. Caked in mud, they was.’
‘You’re doing quite well for yourself keeping Mr Waterford’s confidences,’ I said. ‘But it does give the lie to Miss Buffrey’s suspicions.’
‘Like I says, it weren’t them.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Lady Hardcastle and I didn’t think it was, either. How about Herr Kovacs? Was there anything noteworthy there?’
‘He was an odd fish,’ he said. ‘Odder than odd. I’d go in there and find him mutterin’ gibberish to himself. Mad as a hatter.’
‘To be fair, he was probably muttering in Hungarian or German. Have you been in his room since he was killed?’
‘No,’ he said bluntly. ‘No need. A dead bloke don’t need no valet.’
I smiled. ‘No, I suppose not. Just one more thing: did you ever notice that he had a photograph?’
He looked suddenly defensive. ‘I never pinched it. He asked me to get it for him.’
‘The photo of the school cricket team?’
‘Yes, that’s the one. He asked me to get it from the library. I don’t know what he wanted it for. Can’t say as I ever saw him even lookin’ at it.’
‘Interesting,’ I said. ‘We might need to have a look at that ourselves.’
‘I can get it for you, if you like. It wouldn’t be no trouble.’
‘That’s all right,’ I said. ‘I think we can manage. Are you staying down here?’
‘What, now? No, I s’pose I’d better show my face and look like I’m workin’.’
‘I shall leave you to tidy up,’ I said. ‘And thank you for all your efforts. You’ve been most helpful.’
It was almost a quarter past five by the time Lady Hardcastle returned to her room.
‘Gracious me,’ she said as she burst in. ‘Sorry I took so long.’
‘That’s all right, my lady,’ I said. ‘It’s not as though I have any urgent appointments.’
‘No, but when a lady says she’ll meet at five, she should jolly well be there at five.’
I laughed. ‘You’ve never been on time for anything in your life.’
‘Not for frivolous things like parties or dinners, but when was I ever late when we were working?’
‘Actually, you’re right. I apologize. How did you get on?’
‘Not wonderfully well. Fishy’s all of a twitter, as you can imagine, but he doesn’t seem to know anything useful. Kovacs was a good egg; Monty’s a good egg. He struggled to find something good to say about Roz, but he doesn’t believe her capable of murder.’
‘Everyone struggles to find something good to say about her.’
‘Well, quite. I learned a little more about Inspector Foister’s reasons for arresting them both, though. It seems that when he’d been asking about the race the other day, Kovacs had told him that Monty had been fiddling with Dawkins’s motor car just before the start. His chain of events goes: Monty sabotaged the motor car, Kovacs saw him, Kovacs was blackmailing him to get him to sell the company, Monty and his adulterous lover kill Kovacs.’
‘It’s not illogical,’ I said. ‘Mr Waterford was fiddling with a motor car when we arrived, and Herr Kovacs wasn’t far behind us. But he doesn’t have a motive for the initial sabotage. Why would Mr Waterford sabotage one of his own motor cars?’
‘I’m sure he’ll come up with something. What news from your man, Evan?’
‘None at all,’ I said. ‘It took me longer to track him down than to find out that he doesn’t really know very much, either. He does know what happened to Mrs Beddows’s missing tweeds, though – they’re being discreetly cleaned. Evidently they were covered in mud as a result of some al fresco shenanigans. He also said that he was the one who fetched the cricket team photograph from the library on Herr Kovacs’s orders, although he has no idea why Kovacs wanted it.’
‘Did he? Did he, indeed? Talking of photographs, I popped in to see Helen on my way back here. She wittered on about how awful everything was, and I thought I ought to try to give her something to do to take her mind off it all. I suggested she develop her photographs. It’ll keep her busy.’
‘It keeps you busy,’ I said.
‘Hence my suggestion. And Inspector Sunderland sends his regards.’
‘You spoke to him as well? No wonder you were late getting back.’
‘Yes, Fishy let me use his telephone. The inspector will call me or wire me when he knows anything further about Kovacs and the world of motor racing.’
‘And the school?’
‘And the school. I didn’t forget.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’
‘And now, I think there’s time for a bath before drinkies. Fishy is determined that his remaining guests should be well looked after, so he’s summoned us all to the library for a pre-prandial bracer. Or two. I made Helen promise to come down. And Harry will be there, of course, even if only to moon over Jake. Do you think you might be able to persuade Spinney to let you serve this evening? It would be nice to have you there.’
‘I shall see what I can do, my lady. Would you like me to draw you a bath?’
‘Are you sure you’re up to it, dear?’ she said as I stood. ‘Treacherous blighters, baths.’
‘I’ll manage,’ I said.
Chapter Fourteen
There was no real need for me to serve at dinner that evening, but Mr Spinney agreed anyway. The last time I had been in the dining room at dinner time had been on Wednesday, after the fatal crash. The mood then had been subdued, and I was expecting the same this time, but, to my surprise, I found everyone except Lord Riddlethorpe to be in good spirits.
Without Mrs Beddows’s continual sniping, Miss Titmus came out of her shell. She and Lady Lavinia kept Lady Hardcastle amused with tales of their schooldays, when many of their exploits bordered on the recklessly criminal. Meanwhile, Uncle Algy – with Harry as his straight man – was doing his best to entertain Lord Riddlethorpe. In the end, even his lordship succumbed to the cheerful mood around the table, and was laughing with them all when Uncle Algy did his (apparently famous) impression of the king trying to explain the laws of cricket to his nephew Kaiser Wilhelm.
Just as before, the ladies retired to the library once dinner was over, and once again I was invited to accompany them. I served the brandy, but this time there was no delay in my being asked to sit with
them.
The reminiscences had stopped and conversation had finally turned to the events of the past twenty-four hours. Lady Lavinia and Miss Titmus were keen to find out if we knew anything they hadn’t heard already. It turned out that we didn’t.
‘Surely you must have some clever theories, though,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘You two are quite the utterest utter, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never known anyone quite as brainy as you.’
Lady Hardcastle laughed. ‘I think you must be moving in the wrong circles, dear. We’re not nearly as clever as you think.’
‘You speak for yourself, my lady,’ I said.
‘Actually, she’s right. Flo here is as brainy as they come. Despite that, though, we have more questions than answers at the moment.’
‘But at least you have questions,’ said Lady Lavinia eagerly. ‘We don’t even have those, do we, Hels?’
‘No, Jake,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘Well, I have a few, but they make me feel such a duffer.’
‘So what are your questions, then, Emily?’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘What’s your clever-clogs brain asking?’
‘Let’s see,’ said Lady Hardcastle. She took a sip of her brandy while she pondered her response. ‘Who really sabotaged Dawkins’s motor car? It could have been Monty, but why would he do it on the track in full view of everyone? It would be much easier to snip the cable in the coach house under cover of darkness – we even found a pair of pliers kicked under the work bench. Why would they kill Viktor? Surely if he were blackmailing them, someone as resourceful as Roz could dig up some dirt on him in retaliation. It would be stalemate. Gossip is her speciality. She could scandalmonger for England if there were a World Championship.’
‘Quite aside from anything else,’ said Lady Lavinia, ‘I just can’t see either of them as villains.’
‘I’m not sure that will convince a jury,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘but I know what you mean.’
‘What about you, Armstrong?’ said Miss Titmus. ‘What questions are you asking?’
‘I’m afraid Lady Hardcastle thinks my question rather foolish and red herringy,’ I said.
‘What was it Miss Blenkinsop always used to say in History lessons, Hels?’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘“There’s no such creature as a stupid question, only stupid answers.” What are you asking, Armstrong?’
‘I’ve been asking why Herr Kovacs was so obsessed with your old school photograph,’ I said. ‘What’s so fascinating about a cricket team?’
‘He was what?’ said Lady Lavinia.
‘He had your team photograph in his room.’
‘He spent ages hogging it after dinner on Wednesday, didn’t he, Jake?’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I thought it was a bit off, to be honest. I wanted everyone to have a look.’
‘Well, we’ve added it to the growing list of questions,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do you know anything about the rivalry between Fishy and Viktor, Jake?’
‘I thought it was all very schoolboyish and friendly,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘You know what chaps are like. Edmond is just like that, only more so. He’s an overeager little boy wearing his father’s suit and pretending to be a grown-up. Their “rivalry” was more like two boys arguing over a game of conkers.’
Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘You see? Always questions, never answers.’
The conversation had drifted on to the subject of Lady Hardcastle’s latest moving picture project by the time the men joined us. Once Lord Riddlethorpe learned what we were talking about, he began to bombard her with increasingly technical questions. We were all saved from a detailed description of the workings of the latest camera by Uncle Algy loudly insisting that we join him in a game of Jean-Pierre’s Magical Vineyard.
We made it to bed by one in the morning.
Sunday passed, as Sundays do, in a dreary blur of indolence and inactivity. After leading the entire household through the pouring rain to church and back in the morning, Lord Riddlethorpe retired to his rooms. Lady Lavinia also disappeared, though I had no idea where. Miss Titmus locked herself away in the darkroom for the day, and so Lady Hardcastle borrowed her camera to take some photographs of her own.
I spent most of the day in the room I shared with Betty, alternately reading and gossiping. Betty was torn: should she do the noble thing and stay loyal to her unpleasant (and allegedly felonious) employer, or should she look to her own best interests and cut herself loose from the scandal? By bedtime, we had still reached no conclusion. Despite having seemingly done nothing all day, I was exhausted when we finally said our goodnights and snuffed out the candles.
Monday was brighter, and so was the atmosphere in the house. Breakfast was served in the dining room, and everyone managed to attend at roughly the same time. I stood in the corner as though I were serving, but I fooled no one. It was obvious that I was just hanging around, but no one seemed to object.
Lord Riddlethorpe and Lady Lavinia both announced that they had business in Leicester and would be out for the day. Harry said he would accompany Lady Lavinia ‘if that’s all right with you . . . I mean, I wouldn’t want to . . .’
His mumbly stumbling evoked laughter from his sister, and he glared at her. When Lady Lavinia patted his hand affectionately and said that it would be delightful to have his company, his embarrassment increased tenfold, and I was certain we could have toasted crumpets on his reddened cheeks.
Miss Titmus still had a little work to do in the darkroom, leaving Lady Hardcastle at something of a loose end.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘I’ll only be an hour or two, then we can have lunch and plan some games for the afternoon. Do you play golf?’
‘No,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever got round to trying.’
‘I can teach you,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘It’s really jolly simple. Do you have any clubs that Emily can borrow, Jake?’
Lady Lavinia wrenched herself away from her close scrutiny of Harry’s eyes. ‘I’ll get Perrin to dig them out for you, dear,’ she said. ‘They’re not in terribly good shape, mind you.’
‘Not to worry,’ said Miss Titmus enthusiastically. ‘We’ll just be hacking about around the racing track. That’s all right, isn’t it, Fishy?’
‘What? Oh, yes. The dogs’ll help. They love to fetch golf balls.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘See you at noon for lunch and golf, Emily. Bring comfortable boots and the dogs.’
She plonked her napkin on the table and bounced out of the room. Mrs Beddows’s absence clearly agreed with her.
With her employer still in the chokey, Betty was also at a loose end, so I persuaded her to join Lady Hardcastle and me as we took a turn around the grounds after breakfast. The intention had been to loosen our limbs and build up an appetite for lunch, but we took things at far too leisurely a pace for that. We did, though, walk for miles.
The estate was vast, and we hadn’t explored half of it before Lady Hardcastle consulted her watch and declared that we ought to be making our way back to the house for lunch.
It was almost half-past twelve by the time we arrived at the terrace. Miss Titmus was sitting at the table, reading a magazine. There were two bags of golf clubs leaning against the low wall.
‘I’m so sorry we’re late, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I hadn’t realized quite how extensive Fishy’s place is. It must cover half of Rutland.’
Miss Titmus laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been keeping myself busy.’ She waved the magazine. ‘I couldn’t face a big meal, so I asked them to send up some sandwiches. I hope you don’t mind. I got Mrs R to make up some ham and piccalilli for me – it’s my absolute favourite – but I got a selection for you chaps, just in case.’
‘That’s perfect,’ said Lady Hardcastle as she sat down. ‘I’m not particularly fond of piccalilli, so I think your sandwiches are safe. I say, you don’t mind if Buffrey joins us, do you, dear? She’s been keeping us company.’
‘Not at all,’ said Miss Titmus.
‘Buffrey and I have known each other for simply ever, haven’t we? I’m sure Roz would have apoplexy at the very thought of you sitting down to lunch with us. But she’s not here, is she?’ She seemed positively gleeful at the thought. ‘Pull up a pew and dig in. I think Mrs R has been overgenerous as usual. There’s enough for everyone.’
Lady Hardcastle noticed Lord Riddlethorpe’s two Dalmatians lying to either side of Miss Titmus’s chair.
‘You are a poppet. And you even had to fetch the dogs yourself. I was supposed to find them,’ she said.
‘They found me,’ said Miss Titmus as she patted the dogs on their heads. ‘Didn’t you, girls? Have you met Asterope and Electra, Emily?’
‘I can’t say we’ve been formally introduced. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies.’
‘They’re sisters. There were seven in the litter – all girls – so they were named after the Seven Sisters. Fishy kept these two. Their mother died last year. He was heartbroken, poor love.’
While she was talking, she took her plate from the table and sat back, ready to eat her sandwich. The dogs were suddenly sitting up and drooling slightly. Miss Titmus turned to her right and patted one dog’s head. While she was distracted, the other quickly leaned in from the left and took the sandwich from her plate.
‘Oh, Electra, you bad girl,’ said Miss Titmus. ‘That was my special lunch.’
To add insult to injury, the dog took one bite and spat the rest out. She barked.
‘Serves you right,’ said Miss Titmus with a chuckle. ‘Don’t like piccalilli, eh? That’ll teach you to pinch a girl’s sandwich.’
She reached down to retrieve the stolen food, but quickly thought better of it.
‘So much for my special sandwich,’ she said. ‘Good thing Mrs R made plenty after all.’
‘Try the cheese and tomato, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘There must be something about the soil out here. Or the sunshine. I’ve never tasted such sweet tomatoes.’
We tucked in. There was wine, as usual, and the mood became quite convivial. Betty had seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but by the time we finished the last of the food, she and Miss Titmus were getting along famously.