A Brush with Death

by Ali Carter

  ‘I think it would be useful for you to give us an update on this,’ said Arthur, turning to give Asquintha a nod. Diana agreed.

  Inspector Grey put on his reading glasses and unclipped the top piece of paper from the folder in front of him. ‘Henry Dunstan-Sherbet, Ben Codrington and Susie Mahl, who were with Lord Greengrass in the graveyard, have all been interviewed.’ My heart gave a heavy beat at the sound of my name, but the inspector continued without so much as a glance in my direction. ‘On the evidence we have gathered, they were the first people to come upon Lord Greengrass, having been alerted to his whereabouts by a deep gurgling sound.’

  Inspector Grey looked to Toby, who nodded in agreement, before continuing. ‘This gurgling sound is produced by a mixture of air and saliva travelling up the oesophagus. The lack of live muscle to set it free gives it its distinctive lowness of pitch. This sound confirms Lord Greengrass’s final breath before death, and is evidence proved by those who heard it.’

  Asquintha turned to me, raised her eyebrows, subtly nodded her head and smiled a little as if to say, ‘I wish I was in your lifeboat.’

  It’s a cruelness that during a police investigation – although the precise opposite is supposed to be true – it feels very much as if all connected with the deceased are potentially guilty until they are proven innocent. While of course I was happy that I was apparently off the list of suspects, I wasn’t entirely convinced that any lay person could with certainty swear that something heard was indeed the sound of a last breath, as opposed to merely a distressed breath. But I decided to keep this scepticism to myself, and contented myself with what I hoped was a supportive smile in Asquintha’s direction.

  Inspector Grey continued with his long-winded way of saying something startlingly obvious. ‘In our experience, we have found narrowing down the list of suspects works best if we begin investigating family members first, followed by those most closely connected to the family.’

  Fortunately for Arthur, taking his children to Sunday school had provided him with Reverend Roger as an alibi.

  Unfortunately for Asquintha, at this point the rest of us twigged that she had been home alone, having a liein, at the exact time of Alexander’s murder. She didn’t have anyone to vouch for her whereabouts.

  Asquintha saw what we were thinking and added quickly, ‘I had just risen and showered when Arthur and the boys returned home.’

  Arthur agreed immediately that his wife’s hair was still wet at 12.30pm, when he returned home, but the look on Inspector Grey’s face made it perfectly clear to all of us that this claim wouldn’t stand up in court as evidence of innocence.

  Diana was of a similar opinion. ‘Wet hair doesn’t prove anything,’ she said, which seemed a sharp and uncalled for disloyalty to poor Asquintha.

  And inevitably Inspector Grey twisted the knife. ‘It is uncollaborated where Lady Cornfield was between 11.15am and 11.25am.’

  That was it. Asquintha was guilty until proven innocent, and the rest of us who’d given statements were off the hook.

  Asquintha looked worn down and distressed. It was difficult to tell whether her slumped shoulders and cowed attitude were because of an unfair accusation, or a guilty conscience that was defeating her.

  Whatever, I wanted to offer her comfort but knew as a (self-appointed) detective I must remain impartial in order to see the truth.

  Toby’s head dipped towards the table, giving away his unease of the finger-pointing at Asquintha. He struck me as a man who had an effortless way with women. A combination of good looks and charm doubtlessly attracted all, and right now it was difficult for him to watch Asquintha suffer.

  Couldn’t he just focus on me? I thought, shamefully. After all, I was the youngest, and also the only single woman at the table.

  ‘Shall we move on?’ said Arthur in a glum voice as he strove to deflect our attention away from his wife.

  Inspector Grey skim-read another document in his file.

  ‘Turning our attention to the household, Miss Jenny has confirmed her absence with an international call to Mary on Sunday morning that the telephone company has verified. And groundsman Sid was returning a broken rake to the garden centre fifteen miles north of Spire village.’ Using his finger to find his place in the statement Inspector Grey continued, ‘We have evidence of his refund receipt with 11.17am printed on it, confirmed by checkout sales assistant, a Miss Daisy Lorne.’

  There was a pause, and we waited for more names to be crossed off the list of suspects, but none came. Instead Inspector Grey finished up with, ‘That’s all for now.’

  ‘No more?’ said Diana querulously. ‘How can we possibly muddle along together when there may be a murderer amongst us?’

  ‘My Lady, I can assure you that your safety is paramount and our investigation into your husband’s death of primary importance,’ the inspector tried to reassure her.

  ‘How do you proceed from here, Inspector?’ asked Arthur, trying to introduce some logical order.

  ‘Today will be spent gathering statements from Antonia Codrington, her nanny May, publican Ronnie Riggs, his daughter Katy, Butler Shepherd, Housekeeper Mary and your nanny, Angela Child.’

  I hadn’t ever thought to ask Nanny’s real name. A. Child. It amused me. Particularly as I’ve always joked that a book of nominative determinism would make a good Christmas bestseller. The sprinter, Usain Bolt and Belgian theologian, Monsieur Crucifix would be the best in it so far.

  ‘What would you like us to do?’ asked Diana.

  ‘Remain calm and carry on with your routine as best you can, My Lady. I suggest we pencil in a similar meeting to this one for tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Susie, will you make a note of that please?’ Diana said.

  I gave Toby a quizzical look and made a mental note of tomorrow morning’s meeting.

  Finally letting go of her coffee cup, Asquintha stood up. First to leave the room she hardly even whispered goodbye. Toby’s eyes followed her path out the door and reverted when Arthur came into his sight.

  ‘Thank you Inspector, thank you Dr Cropper. I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘Before you go, Lord Cornfield,’ said Inspector Grey, ‘I will need you to show me to your family gun safe, please.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And what will you be doing in the gun safe, Inspector?’ asked Diana as if she was trying to catch him out.

  ‘I’ll be measuring the butt plates for the record, My Lady. The area of clustered bruising on your husband’s chest, combined with his previous occupation, and passion for country pursuits, has suggested, unlikely as it may be for a Sunday morning in a country graveyard, that the butt of a shotgun could have acted as a murder weapon.’

  ‘Good God!’ sighed Diana. ‘If that’s the case, why on earth did the killer use that end?’

  Inspector Grey sounded patient, ‘To ensure he or indeed she was not heard, we presume.’ He then stood up. ‘Before we go, with your permission My Lady, I would like to have a look in your husband’s study please.’

  ‘Susie will accompany you.’ And without a further word Diana swept from the room in a manner that suggested she’d like to be moving faster than her ample figure allowed.

  ‘I’ll take you to the gun safe now,’ said Arthur.

  Inspector Grey turned to Toby, ‘I’ll be back in a moment or two.’

  This was my cue to remain here, and that I could show him Alexander’s study afterwards.

  I knew the rules of guns in houses. Although my father didn’t shoot, I was aware that, by law, all guns had to be kept in a gun safe. It is illegal for anyone, living under the same roof, without a shotgun or firearm certificate, to know where the keys are kept.

  ‘Would you like a biscuit?’ I said, pushing the plate towards Toby. My tummy turned with that nervous feeling of being left alone with someone you were desperate to impress but didn’t know how to. I realised I fancied Toby.

  ‘Seems you’re quite the favourite round here,�
�� he said.

  I smiled, but felt completely unable to discuss the family in their own house.

  Toby whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Susie, there’s nothing I couldn’t see for myself. That poor daughter-in-law.’

  I nodded, pleased that he wasn’t overly quick to assume Asquintha had anything to do with Alexander’s death.

  ‘Lovely house, isn’t it? You’re lucky to get to stay in a place like this,’ Toby went on.

  ‘I suppose your job only takes you to dead ends.’

  My joke was pretty feeble, but Toby laughed nonetheless, and I started to wonder if perhaps he had noticed me noticing him.

  ‘In my view, Inspector Grey is barking up the wrong tree in the gun cupboard. But I suppose it’s good to cover all bases.’

  Thank goodness we’d been conversing in hushed voices. No sooner had I spoken than Inspector Grey’s voice sounded nearby.

  We both looked towards the door and there he was. ‘Come on then Susie, lead me to the study.’

  He seemed in an inappropriately good mood, saying to Toby before we left the room, ‘Dr Cropper, I can report there is one gun with a butt of precisely three and a half inches, which is a child’s single-barrel .410 shotgun, and all the other gun butts are far larger at five inches. The .410 is coming with me to the police station for tests, and I’ve locked it up in the safe in my car.’

  Toby didn’t comment on the gun, but he did say to the inspector, ‘I don’t have to be in the office until 10am, and so if you’d like assistance in the study then I’m happy to stick around.’

  Wanting to keep Toby nearby for as long as possible, I willed Inspector Grey to say yes. And amazingly he did. ‘An extra pair of eyes is always a help so come on then,’ he said.

  I took them both to the study. In fact I was really pleased as it let me be closely involved in the hunt for evidence, even if only for a short while.

  Diana had been treating me more and more as a lady-in-waiting, rather than a friend, which was what I really hoped I was to her: collecting the mortuary report, writing the draft death notice, passing on messages to Mary, making notes, and now overseeing these two men.

  I couldn’t say that I’d take all these orders on the chin under normal circumstances, but right now it was precisely these little jobs that were facilitating my personal investigation of her husband’s murder in a fittingly discreet way.

  Once inside the study, I closed the door and in doing so revealed a case of books that attracted Toby’s attention.

  Meanwhile Inspector Grey chaotically riffled through neat piles of paperwork on Lord Greengrass’s desk.

  ‘Look Inspector, here’s a shelf of daily diaries. Go all the way back to…now let’s see…’ Toby licked his forefinger and ran it along the bindings revealing gold leaf embossed dates, ‘…er, going back at least forty years. Imagine having recorded your life for that long?’

  Inspector Grey gave Toby a stern look.

  ‘Might as well bag up the most recent one. I suppose it could be useful in place of an absent witness.’

  Toby handed me a diary from the bottom shelf and I slipped it under my arm as Inspector Grey handed me a marker pen and a bunch of sealed plastic bags, saying, ‘Make yourself useful and pop today’s date on these and remember to write “Personal Journal, study bookcase” on the one you’re holding.’

  I did as requested, pleased I’d gained his trust; something I needed if I was going to get involved in the case.

  Meanwhile Inspector Grey – clearly much more used to this sort of thing than I was – had already bagged up various items, including a wall calendar, an alarm clock, a knife-shaped letter opener, a worn leather address book and a packet of diabetic energy tablets.

  I knelt on the floor and arranged these plastic bags in a row, then reached for the diary to do my bagging, and out fluttered a loose photograph that landed gently on its front.

  Calmly but quickly I grabbed it and slipped it into the top of my tights before the others could see. I was then quite shocked at what I’d just done, but not shocked enough to put the photograph back.

  Guiltily I jumped at the sound of the study door opening.

  Arthur walked in. ‘Are you all okay to let yourselves out when you’re done? I must go and brief the servants and Ma would like to be left alone for a while.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Inspector Grey. He didn’t seem to think it worth spending much further time looking for evidence at Beckenstale Manor as he then said, ‘We’ll be out of here in the next five minutes.’

  Arthur asked if I’d like to join his mother for lunch. ‘One-fifteen if that’s okay for you?’

  I accepted, and then realised Inspector Grey was looking down at me. ‘Right, hop up Susie, and give me those evidence bags.’

  I handed them over.

  ‘And that one,’ he said, with his hand indicating the bag with the diary in it beside me.

  ‘Ah. Of course, here you go.’

  Within two minutes of Arthur leaving the study, Inspector Grey, Toby and I had all left the Manor and gone our separate ways.

  In the secrecy of my bedroom at Nanny’s, with the door closed for privacy despite there being no one around, I slid out the photograph.

  It was a recent picture of Alexander and there was a man stood next to him who carried a shotgun under each arm. The first thing to strike me was the awkward amount of space between them. Alexander had a half smile but his companion looked positively grumpy.

  I knew that I really should hand it in to the police station but right then I didn’t want to. I felt bad but I told myself that it wasn’t as if the butt of a shotgun was a remotely likely murder weapon.

  I laid the picture on the desk and studied it; both men were dressed in full tweed. The stranger had on a deer-stalker, one of those tweed hats with earflaps tied at its crown. Other than the ironic association with Sherlock Holmes, this distinctive model, only worn by rural workers and never landowners, identified the man as Lord Greengrass’s loader. Behind the pair was a distinctive stocky, round stone tower, and on the back of the photograph was scribbled in blue-black ink: ‘That Day’ in Alexander’s unmistakable spidery handwriting.

  I slipped it into my sketchbook to think about and perhaps revisit later. Right now I wanted to ring Sarah Hember again.

  No one was around. I knew Nanny had taken the boys on an outing to the local deep-sea world down at the coast. Personally I hated this sort of attraction as I always felt sorry for the poor ocean creatures captured in a tank, and even worse that they were so close to their natural habitat.

  I retrieved the Post-it note from the pocket of the skirt I had been wearing the day before and read it again.

  25th Nov.

  Dorset Horn, 6pm

  077845974210

  Cash

  There was something peculiar about it, I thought, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t see or guess at what this might be. I found the last dialled number on my mobile and pressed the green button.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! came pounding through Rose Cottage.

  In a split second I had cancelled the call. My heart jumped into my throat as images of murderers with baseball bats in their hands flashed through my mind. I heard the front door fly open and crash against the wall of the porch.

  ‘MISS MAHL, you in there?’ boomed a male voice.

  Spooked, my imagination ran riot and didn’t allow me to think who it might be who wanted to know where I was so urgently.

  With an effort I pulled myself together, slipped the Post-it note under my pillow, straightened my skirt, punched 999 into my mobile and hovered a shaking thumb over the call button.

  ‘Who is it!’ I shouted from behind the bedroom door.

  ‘MISS MAHL, where the heck are you? It’s Shepherd.’

  He looked cross as he stood on the step with the door wide open, letting a chill of cold air into the house.

  ‘Hello Shepherd,’ I said, a bit surprised by quite how composed I sounded.

  ‘
Ah Madam.’ His voice was much calmer. ‘Sorry about the crash of the door. Didn’t want to barge in on you.’

  Other than stepping over the threshold, he had all but barged in, I thought.

  I walked very slowly down the corridor towards him, holding my mobile hidden behind my back with my finger poised above the call button still, I could feel the bolt of adrenalin and I couldn’t help but notice that Shepherd was a big man.

  ‘I won’t come in, Madam, as I’ve got my boots on.’ He wiggled one foot at me. ‘But I wanted to tell you about something I saw the other night. Mary’s been keeping me quiet but that’s not sitting right with me.’

  ‘Go on,’ I said cautiously.

  ‘I was in the pub on Saturday night. Lord Greengrass was there and it’s not like him to be at the boozer. I was alone, just drinking up at the bar and so I kept an eye on him. He didn’t drink no alcohol all the time he was there.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this, Shepherd?’ I turned off my phone and put it in my pocket.

  ‘I saw you have the ear of the inspector and I didn’t want to go to Lady Greengrass. And there’s no way I’m speaking to the police until asked.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  Now I’d given him permission to speak, he struggled to get the words out.

  I tried to help by asking, ‘Did Lord Greengrass see you?’

  ‘I was pulled up to the bar very obvious.’

  ‘Well, if we assume for the moment that he didn’t see you, was there anything he was doing that meant he didn’t see you?’

  ‘You lost me there, Madam.’ Shepherd looked confused.

  ‘Just say what you came to tell me.’

  Shepherd looked at the floor. ‘A lady came in the pub, and I don’t know who she was. Neither of them were dressed up. You know what I’m saying. She joined him at his table but didn’t take a drink. Lord Greengrass handed over an envelope, shook her hand and then she left. It was all very quick.’

  ‘What?’ I said, a bit more loudly than I meant to.

  ‘That’s all there is to it, Madam. It’s something and nothing I daresay, but I just had to get it off my chest. What if that lady had something to do with what went on the next morning? What if Lord Greengrass was involved in something he shouldn’t have been?’