by Ali Carter
‘Will Lady Greengrass receive a report tonight?’ I asked.
‘What is likely to happen is that Detective Inspector Grey and I present it to the family connected with the case in the privacy of their own home. This will be tomorrow morning at the earliest. By then we’ll have a conclusive report and more information on any bruising as some bruises aren’t detectable immediately after death.’
Our sandwiches arrived and we tucked in. Toby looked at me and smiled after his first mouthful and I noticed a fleck of black pepper had lodged itself between his front teeth.
I used to wonder whether to tell someone when they had food stuck in their teeth. However, about a year ago I was in church, standing in line for communion, and the woman in front of me had a clean piece of loo paper flapping out the back of her trousers. I thought long and hard about whether to tell her or not. Just as she was about to get to the front of the queue she reached her hands behind her and tucked in her already tucked-in shirt. Much to my relief the loo paper disappeared somewhere inside her waistband. Maybe it was because this happened to me in church, but I took it as a lesson in not speaking out when someone has something where it shouldn’t be. The fleck of pepper in Toby’s teeth was a mild distraction during our conversation but I left it for him to dislodge later.
‘Delicious sandwich,’ I said.
‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ agreed Toby, who was much further ahead with his.
I wanted to get back on to the subject of Alexander’s death and decided that if I volunteered some details Toby might just give me something back in return. ‘I’m not sure you know, but I was in the graveyard when Lord Greengrass’s body was found. In fact, he might just have still been alive when I first saw him. It all looked normal, and so it seems strange that there was not more evidence at the scene if he was murdered?’
‘If there is anything you have to say that would help with the case…’ Toby sounded official again. ‘You must, Susie, it’s very important.’
‘I’m only saying that I am a little puzzled by it all.’
‘Go on,’ he urged.
‘Lord Greengrass was well known among his family and house guests for frequently using the expression, “I’m just going to water the flowerbeds” – and then he would go off to relieve himself outside, even when he was at his own home. I think that is exactly what he was doing in the graveyard, most probably having sneaked out during a hymn.’
‘Yes,’ said Toby. ‘That makes sense.’
‘While peeing, he could have taken his mind off his surroundings and been brought down by someone, I admit. But he was diabetic, and so he could also have fainted, which would tie in nicely with the fact he had low blood sugar.’
‘Yes,’ said Toby waiting for me to come to a conclusion.
‘The bash on his forehead did not break the skin and therefore how could falling on a boulder possibly have killed him?’
‘It couldn’t have.’
‘Well, what did then?’
Toby didn’t say anything.
‘But you’re so sure he was murdered?’ I said after a pause.
‘Susie, you’re not giving me much slack.’
I smiled a broad smile. I wasn’t going to back down just yet, and I think Toby could tell.
In a slightly weary sounding voice, he said, ‘In no particular order, Lord Greengrass was struck on the chest by something, fainted, hit his head and died. What I can assure you is that the clustered bruising on his chest was fresh at death and arranged in a place that it couldn’t have come about any other way than someone else inflicting it. This is the missing information we were looking for in the Level 3 autopsy. Detective Inspector Grey’s job is to find the evidence that will lead him to the murderer.’
Toby took in a deep breath and looked down at the table.
‘Thank you for telling me.’ I took Toby’s indiscretion as a huge compliment.
‘I shouldn’t have, although it’s nothing the police won’t be explaining to the family.’
‘I’m sorry for pushing you, but I can’t bear to see Lady Greengrass torn apart as she is now. She may be grand in manner but she’s always been generous to me and if there is any way I can reduce her pain and suffering I will.’
We had a moment of silence before Toby joked, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you cracked this case before anyone else got a whiff of who done it.’
I smiled at him, and pushed my luck again. ‘Can you give me one clue from the paperwork that Joey brought to you?’
‘No! You’re not going to get any more out of me.’ The fleck of pepper disappeared as Toby pulled his forefinger and thumb across his lips, miming the closing of a zip.
I didn’t want lunch to come to an end, and not just because I was so immersed in the murder case. I hadn’t been out with a man for a very long time. Not that this was a date but I was enjoying the fact it felt as if it almost could be.
We chatted for a few moments about other things, and then I confided in a low voice, ‘There’s something I found recently I’ve not revealed to anyone.’
Toby looked at me seriously, and I couldn’t help but notice how nice his blue eyes were.
I pulled the yellow Post-it note out of my skirt pocket and laid it on the table.
‘This was on Lord Greengrass’s desk. I have tried calling the number but it doesn’t connect.’
As quick as a flash Toby said, ‘That’s because there are too many digits.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘If it’s unconnected with his death I didn’t think Diana needed to see it. Alexander was a recovering alcoholic.’
‘I’m sure you’ll work it out. Would you like some coffee?’
‘Let me get it,’ I said, standing up, but Toby shook his head.
‘I insist,’ he said. ‘Your shout next time.’
As Toby organised our espressos I thought that his lack of reaction to the Post-it note meant he didn’t like to speculate. Not unusual for a man, I decided; us women are far more prone to having a good gossip and inventing theories that are founded on nothing much.
I stared at the number; the 07 was definitely how it began, they all do…Come on Susie, think…How could Alexander have possibly written it down wrong?
My thoughts churned. The one letter in the alphabet which, when spoken, could be misinterpreted as a number is ‘O.’ And then I realised that I might have cracked the problem, just like that.
The person on the end of the telephone could easily have reeled off 07784 597 421, and flowed straight into their next sentence with ‘Oh, by the way bring cash’ – thus giving the extra number.
I was so thrilled with my theory that immediately I punched the numbers into my mobile and pressed the green button. It connected, and rang for ages.
I didn’t take my eyes off Toby as he sat down with our coffees and returned my stare.
The rings stopped and a voicemail greeting said, ‘Hello, you’ve rung Sarah Hember, I’m not available to take your call right now but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’
I hung up and told Toby what I’d done.
‘The voice on the answering machine suggested a privately educated woman, but linguistically not one from the Greengrasses’ social circle,’ I explained. ‘This Sarah Hember had used the word “take”, rather than “receive”, which suggests to me that, if anything, she was only an acquaintance of Alexander and not a friend of his.’
Toby looked a bit taken aback at my lengthy explanation, and so I tried to make clear that these were the sort of minuscule details we had to pay attention to in order to narrow down the suspects.
He glanced at his watch, and then said hurriedly, ‘I have to go, Susie. I’m sorry to rush off.’ And he sprang up.
‘You go. Don’t worry about me.’
‘Good luck with tracking down Sarah Hember.’ Toby drew a business card from his pocket and laid it on the table. ‘If you’re around all week and up for another sandwich, just let me know.’
A zing of arousal went through me as the door chimed and he dashed out.
The door to the police station was unusually small for such an enormous building but it was the only obvious entrance. Heavy and sprung, I pulled it back, only to be confronted by a solid and inevitably locked inner door. I’d stopped off at the supermarket to get food for me and Nanny, but I was still fifteen minutes early for my 3pm appointment.
A bored female voice boomed through the intercom: ‘First name, surname and who you visiting?’
I smiled just in case I was on camera. ‘Susie Mahl for Detective Inspector Grey.’
‘Thank you,’ came the monotone reply.
Following this, nothing happened. I looked down at my feet and waited for what seemed like a very long time. The uninviting voice on the end of the intercom had put me off pressing it again. Finally I was buzzed in, and came face to face with the stumpy Detective Inspector Grey.
‘Good of you to come in with such short notice. It’s non-stop this afternoon: getting statements, tracing alibis and calling for witnesses. Shouldn’t take long now you’ve arrived.’
And before I had time to so much as nod at the receptionist, Inspector Grey had marched me through one of five doors in the foyer. I was told to take a seat at an empty desk in the centre of a spotlight-hot interview room. The chair was warm and the stale air smelt as if there had been several people in here today. Straight ahead of me was a poster stuck on the wall which stated something about how evidence given by witnesses could be used in court.
Detective Inspector Grey stood by the door and regarded me very earnestly, almost as if he thought I might try and escape.
I felt mildly intimidated by the surroundings and jumped with surprise at the cry of ‘Moss!’ being shouted down the corridor. Within a moment the police constable arrived with a folder under his arm.
‘It’s just a few simple questions, Susie,’ said Inspector Grey. ‘Can I ask you to describe how you spent the morning of Sunday the 26th of November?’
‘I had spent the weekend with Antonia and Ben Codrington and their friend Henry Dunstan-Sherbet,’ I began. ‘Ben and I were in the graveyard of the church, putting a lead on his dog Situp, when we heard a strange sound and went around the corner of the church to where it was coming from. There in a nook of the wall was Lord Greengrass lying on the ground with Henry trying to save his life. Ben rushed back to the house and telephoned the police and we all waited until the ambulance and then you two arrived.’ I thought I had neatly swerved the issue of the piece of skull bone being replaced in the grave.
‘Right, stop there, Susie. There are a few specific details within all you have said which we will have to go over.’
‘Okay,’ I said nonchalantly.
‘Firstly, did you enter the graveyard with anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Why were you in the graveyard?’
‘I was following Ben, who was following Henry.’
‘Why were you following each other?’ Inspector Grey’s manner was distinctly peevish.
‘Henry had gone to bury a bone that Situp, Ben’s dog, had dug up the night before. Ben followed after Henry and I followed Ben.’
‘Why Susie? Why exactly did you follow Ben?’
‘I felt guilty not helping them.’ Feeling a bit hot, I took off my coat and slung it over the back of my chair.
‘Tell me again how you, Henry and Ben came together in the graveyard?’
I couldn’t see why this was important but I gave the best answer I could. ‘Ben and I bumped into each other coming in opposite ways around the north porch, with me walking anti-clockwise and Ben clockwise. As we were about to go around the north transept Henry appeared from under an old yew tree in the north-east corner of the graveyard. He rushed towards us and we all congregated at the back wall of the north transept.’
‘Good Susie, good. Every single detail like this is what we are after,’ said Inspector Grey, condescendingly.
He pushed a piece of paper and a pen towards me. ‘Here is a plan diagram of Spire church and graveyard. We need you to mark a few things on it. Dots for your footsteps, a T where the yew tree is, a B where you bumped into Ben, a C where you all congregated, and an X where you saw Lord Greengrass’s body.’
I did as he said and then pushed the piece of paper back to him. He lined it up next to two similar sheets, both of which had the same plan diagram on them. The policemen ummed and ahhed as they compared the marks made on each.
Inspector Grey asked, ‘Were you the first to see Lord Greengrass’s body?’
‘No, Henry saw him first, then Ben and Situp, and then me.’
‘Forget the blasted dog.’
‘Okay,’ I said meekly.
I was asked to give as good a description of Lord Greengrass as I could.
I was a bit pink as I told them he was wearing a Beckenstale-estate tweed suit and a pair of brogues, and we’d noticed a mark on his forehead and that it was apparent that he had been answering a call of nature.
‘Do you mean to say his penis was out?’
‘Yes, Inspector.’
‘Was anyone carrying a walking stick or baton of any kind?’ Inspector Grey stared hard at me.
‘No, Inspector.’
‘How would you describe your relationship with the Greengrasses?’
‘It began as a working relationship. I was commissioned by a friend of Lady Greengrass to draw Alexander’s spaniel, Harriet, for his seventieth-birthday present. And ever since then I have been to stay at Beckenstale Manor once a year, almost always over the August Bank Holiday weekend. So I think it is fair to say we have a reasonably close relationship.’
‘How long have you known the Codringtons?’
‘I’ve only met them twice.’
‘And Henry Dunstan-Sherbet?’
‘I hadn’t met him before last weekend, when I stayed with the Codringtons.’
‘When did you last see Lord Greengrass alive?’
‘Saturday night at the Dorset Horn.’
‘Did you have a conversation?’
‘No.’
‘Can you think of any reason why Lord Greengrass may have been murdered?’
‘No, Inspector.’
Just when I thought the interview was never going to end, it was over. We all stood up at the same time.
Inspector Grey accompanied me to the station foyer, where I told him that I’d be seeing him tomorrow morning, as Diana had asked me to attend the meeting with her.
‘Has she now? Well that may just get you off our list of suspects. One can never be too sure though.’ I couldn’t decide if he was frowning or trying to smile at me.
As I drove back to Beckenstale Manor I replayed the interview in my head. Somehow I seriously doubted that either Inspector Grey or his sidekick had the nous to solve this case. Poor Diana, if my suspicions proved correct.
The daylight was dwindling by the time I left the county police headquarters, but I was eager to visit Spire graveyard.
In the shadow of the church it seemed much darker. I parked where I’d pulled up to let Antonia out on Saturday night.
Thankfully I couldn’t see anyone about and so I headed to the exact spot round the back of the church where Ben, Henry and I had found Alexander on the ground. It was a small place, but well hidden enough for someone to conduct a quick murder. Alexander had done a lot of shooting in his life and like most country gents of his age he was a little deaf, and so maybe he hadn’t been able to sense someone creeping up behind him. Or perhaps he’d knocked himself out well before any murderer appeared on the scene.
The nook was still cordoned off with jaunty blue-and-white chevroned plastic police tape. It was concealed by two tall supporting walls, both running at a forty-five degree angle away from the main body of the building. In the narrow gap between them, just above head height, was a plinth holding a two-foot-tall statue of a seated Christ.
I decided I would not be breaching the law by very much if I w
ere to duck under the tape. Longing to find some evidence, I got down on my hands and knees to comb through the winter grass in the dusk by the light of the torch on my mobile phone. Of course, I didn’t find a thing.
The only obstruction was a mossy boulder sunk in the ground right where Alexander had been lying. I remembered the mortuary report’s ‘severe bruising on front lobe of the skull…traces of green moss found in braised skin of forehead’. This must be what he had knocked his head on. I tried to budge it but it wouldn’t even loosen a little.
I stood up and studied the nearby brickwork for blood but once again there was nothing I could see. I reached up to the stone Christ, whose right hand was raised while the left hand was in his lap, and tried to shift him. He weighed a ton and was firmly attached to the plinth with no prominent bits that were of the right height for Alexander to hurt himself on.
I slipped back under the tape and crossed over to the yew tree from where Henry had appeared. I crouched under its sagging branches to look for the disturbed grave where he would have replaced the piece of skull bone. There was disturbed earth but not much, and so I thought Situp had dug in just the one spot. Hardly any grass had grown under the canopy of branches and so I couldn’t see that anything else of interest was here.
Defeated, I walked across the cold-hearted graves towards my car wondering whether Alexander had knocked himself out and had then been murdered. Or had he been murdered, fallen to the ground and knocked his head on the way down; or been pushed to the ground when he knocked his head on the boulder and died as a consequence?
Suggestions of something dark shivered down my spine and, although I’d been fond of Alexander and didn’t want to believe he’d done anything wrong, I was uneasy. I thought about him being in the pub the night before he died; it didn’t feel right.
As I put the car into reverse, the combined facts of him at the pub, the curiously generous charitable donation, and Diana’s throwaway mention of the dog he had run over, made me doubt that Lord Greengrass was as squeaky clean as I had once believed.
As my car meandered up Beckenstale Manor drive there was one of those memorable winter sunsets where the deceitful golden light makes it seem as if there is warmth in the air. It was spectacular, and I felt quite overcome. In the dying light, the handsome house glistened at its reflection in the lake, making me think about its rich contents which others would like to get their hands on.