“I see.”
“On Fiona’s scribbled list Rupert was to get a considerable packet, but I expect that was a bit of wishful thinking on her part, because she was quite expecting that he would divorce Diana and marry her, so I suppose she hoped there would be a nice lump in the kitty that he would share with her when the divorce was fixed and they could marry.”
“So Miss Bute’s calculations and the draft you saw of the will which must have been altered before Mrs. Leyden died, did not tally?”
“Not so’s you’d notice. I’ll tell you one thing, though. In a way, the abuela’s death was her own fault. If only she’d done what we all expected her to do—come clean about the will and let us know what to expect—there wouldn’t have been any murder.”
“Why do you say that?’
“Simply because it would have been too obvious who’d done it. It would have been the principal beneficiary, of course.”
“I think that is a most doubtful inference for us to make.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Most murders are committed for money, aren’t they? Isn’t it the root of all evil?—or do you think horseradish is that?”
“Love of money is the root of all evil, Miss Aysgarth.”
“Would you have any objection,” asked Dame Beatrice, calling at Headlands three days later, “to my having another short talk with your cook?”
“In your official capacity, do you mean?” asked Maria. “I know what that is, of course, from your card.”
“In fairness to the accused girl, the Home Office may call for a psychiatric opinion.”
“Oh, Margaret Denham isn’t out of her mind.”
“All murderers are out of their minds, although not necessarily in the legal sense, and it is in the legal sense that I am interested.”
“Oh, of course. If your findings are positive, I suppose a second opinion would be called for?”
“By ‘positive’ I take it that you mean if I find that the girl is unfit to plead. I visited her in prison yesterday and I feel that you are right and that a defence of insanity is unlikely to be put forward.”
“Oh, well, one wants to be fair to the girl, of course. Will you see Mrs. Plack in here?”
“She will feel more relaxed in her own surroundings, I think.”
“Very well.” Maria rang the bell. “Ask Mrs. Plack to postpone what she is doing, and then come back and escort Dame Beatrice to the kitchen.”
“Very good, madam.” The parlourmaid returned very shortly and Dame Beatrice was soon confronting Mrs. Plack, who appeared to be flustered.
“Honoured, I’m sure, my lady,” she said. “Would your ladyship take a seat? Sonia, you go over and take them bits out to the dogs and don’t come back till you see me come to the side door. Now, my lady, what can I do for you?”
“Perhaps you will sit down, too, Mrs. Plack. I promise not to keep you long. I have come to ask you one or two more questions about this unfortunate girl Margaret Denham.”
“As good a kitchenmaid as ever I had. Miles above that stuck-up Miss as the old mistress took up and spoilt and, of course, though Sonia’s a good girl, she hasn’t had the experience yet, though I must say she’s a willing learner and quite quick at picking up my ways.”
“You were quite satisfied with Margaret’s work, then?”
“Well, there’s always room for improvement in all of us, my lady, and where Margaret made her mistake was in bandying words.”
“Perhaps she had provocation.”
“My lady, she wasn’t the only one. You should have seen the airs and graces that jumped-up young madam tried to put on with me! But, of course, I kept my dignity, knowing my place and her being took up with by the missus. Margaret, as had been to school with her and not being an orphan as had to accept charity, she flared up and spoke out of turn.”
“Was she a quick-tempered girl as a general rule?”
“Not by no means. Sweet-natured and biddable I would have called her. And as to thinking she poisoned the missus, well, that you’ll never get me to believe.”
“I have visited Margaret in prison and I was favourably impressed by her. Was this diatribe against Miss Aysgarth her only outburst of the kind?”
“So far as I’m aware, and I’m aware of most things as goes on in my kitchen.”
“I am sure you are, and rightly so.”
“And if anybody says as Margaret changed over my jar for one that was full of nasty poison, well, that her didn’t, and I’ll take my oath on it.”
“Did you make only enough to fill one jar?”
“That’s right, a biggish jar as you could get a good-sized spoon into. Missus liked it made fresh each week, but that depended on whether I could get the horseradish. Sometimes you can’t, though I had a regular order, like I told you before. If it didn’t turn up any Friday, well, I always sent Lunn off to pick up a jar from the shop, and I used to spoon out a dollop from it and then mix in some cream. I had to buy from the shop sometimes, like I say, but when I’d jiggered it up a bit the old missus never seemed to spot the difference. That’s the beauty of something as comes a bit sharp on the tongue.”
“So anybody could have got hold of the kind of jar you used. Did you always make your horseradish sauce on Fridays?”
“That’s right. You has to have routine in a kitchen, else you’d be up the pole in no time.”
“I can well believe it. Would this particular routine of the Sunday joint of beef have been generally known?”
“That the mistress always had it? Oh, yes, anybody could have known. They all use the same butcher round here—Drago of Porthcullis it is. I don’t say everybody did know as we had beef most Sundays, but they could have knowed. That’s my meaning.”
“And the horseradish roots?”
“Come from Chown in the village when he got any. Anybody could have knowed that, too.”
“And your recipe, was that a well-kept secret?”
“Not so far as the ingreeds went, but what I always say, your ladyship, is as the secret lays in the hand which doos the mixing. Same with cakes and Christmas puddens. It’s the mixing which does it.”
“I expect you are right. I always think the making of a pot of tea is open to similar comment. Two persons using identical blends, an equal quantity of boiling water, a warmed teapot and allowing exactly the same length of time for infusion, will produce results widely dissimilar, often to the extent that one is drinkable, the other not.”
“Well, that would be the way of it with my horseradish sauce, your ladyship.”
“I have enjoyed our little chat, Mrs. Plack,” said Dame Beatrice, observing that the cook was about to become loquacious, “and I am grateful for your co-operation.” She wondered whether to suggest that “Dame Beatrice” was, in the present instance, a preferable nominative of address to “Your ladyship,” but felt that this correction would damage Mrs. Plack’s amour propre without serving any useful purpose, so she took graceful leave of the cook, went back to the mistress of the house to thank her and then returned to her car and so to The Smugglers’ Inn.
“Any luck?” enquired Laura.
“I forgot to tell you that while I was in London I checked Miss Aysgarth’s alibi. The cook at Headlands, although she is not aware of the fact, confirmed it.”
“How come?”
“Only one pot of horseradish sauce was made at a time, so a person who has an alibi for the Friday to the Sunday morning of the murder cannot be a suspect, since the switching of the jars would have had to be done between those times and, in Miss Aysgarth’s case, those times are accounted for by a number of unbiased London witnesses.”
“Oh, well, I suppose it’s a help to get even one person removed from the list. It still leaves far too many on it, though, wouldn’t you say? I mean, if you take this music student out, you’re still left with Mrs. Porthcawl, Miss Bute, the Lunns and the cook and the present kitchenmaid, apart from the families at Seawards and Campions. We’ve got to find a way of narro
wing it down, it seems to me. You know, heretical though this may sound, I reckon the police may have got the right pig by the ear, after all.”
“Stranger things have happened than that the police should have acted with acumen,” said Dame Beatrice, “but we have to remember the cross-currents in this affair. Neither Campions nor Seawards seem to have visited Headlands without a definite invitation, but our researches have established that there was a liaison between Miss Bute and Mr. Bosse-Leyden, and another between Mr. Garnet Porthcawl and Mrs. Bosse-Leyden. As for Miss Aysgarth, I have no doubt that she was in the habit of visiting both houses. She had a horse at her disposal whenever she was at home. Gossip and an exchange of news and views are inevitable under such circumstances and little would go on at any of the three houses of which the inhabitants of the other two had no knowledge.”
“Including that Margaret Denham had been sacked for insolence?”
“Including that, yes.”
CHAPTER 15
A List of Suspects
“Yes,” Dame Beatrice went on, “neither Miss Aysgarth nor Miss Bute needed to ask for the use of Mrs. Leyden’s car and chauffeur when either of them wanted to visit the other members of Mrs. Leyden’s family. I think it is possible, as there is a third horse, that Mattie Lunn may have accompanied Miss Aysgarth occasionally, but I do not imagine that Miss Bute ever welcomed an escort of that kind.”
“Class distinctions rearing their ugly head?”
“Not altogether.”
“Oh, of course Fiona Bute would have ridden over to see Rupert Bosse-Leyden when his wife wasn’t likely to be at home.”
“Far more likely that she rode over to his office, I think, or met him by previous arrangement on his walks.”
“What happened in bad weather, then? She’d have needed the car when it was wet.”
“Or else she did not go.”
“Don’t you think she ever went to visit the Porthcawl man and the Leeks, then?”
“Oh, I am sure she would do that, too. The fact that Bluebell Leek was willing to take her in when she quarrelled with Mrs. Leyden is proof that she was well in touch with the people at Seawards, I think.”
“If I’m not out of line in putting the question, if the girl Denham isn’t guilty, which of them did it, I wonder?”
“Poisoned Mrs. Leyden? I have a list of possible candidates, and if it were not for Antonia Aysgarth’s unbreakable alibi—and it is unbreakable, for I made certain of that when I accompanied her to London—and for the fact that she had nothing to gain by Mrs. Leyden’s death—”
“Except a possible legacy and her independence.”
“The legacy, as you point out, was problematical and she has gained her independence without it, since she has so contrived matters that she is to have a flat which certainly she could not have afforded on the money she thought might be her portion.”
“All the same, she would have been your pick except for her alibi.”
“Psychologically I think she would qualify. She is ambitious and, I would say, ruthless in gaining her ends. On the other hand, I sum her up as being intelligent enough to realise that, with her knowledge of Mrs. Plack’s routine, she would be bound to come under suspicion, and I do not see her as a person who would take unnecessary risks.”
“So who are your suspects?”
“Those who had the most to gain and, of course, I do not lose sight of a fact we have mentioned before.”
“That Margaret Denham may be guilty after all?”
“Exactly. We cannot leave her out of our reckoning.”
“What about Parsifal Leek and young Gamaliel? Both may have hoped for a cut. It seems to me that you can’t eliminate anybody except the Bosse-Leydens. It seems, from what we’ve found out, that Rupert wouldn’t have had any expectations. That goes for Diana, too, and their kids are much too young to have carried out this kind of murder, apart from being away at school at the time. Then there’s Fiona Bute. Surely she must have had expectations under the old lady’s will.”
“Expectations which have been realised, although perhaps not to the extent for which she may have hoped. Five per cent of Mrs. Leyden’s fortune is not so very generous a share. However, I do not propose to eliminate the Bosse-Leydens. There is one thing of which I can make certain, although I am sure I know the answer. George will be here with the car shortly to get his orders for the day. He shall be our witness.”
“To what?”
“To where Gamaliel, Mrs. Leek and Mr. Porthcawl spent the fateful Friday and Saturday.”
“Of course! You sent them to London and they spent a night in Exeter on the way back. George took them in the car.”
Confirmation of this was readily obtained as soon as George appeared. “Oh, yes, madam,” he said at once. “Following your instructions I drove the party under advisement to London on the Thursday and we put up at the Kensington hotel you had booked for us and, of course, the car keys were never out of my possession. On the Friday I took the party shopping on behalf of the young West Indian gentleman and we spent the night at the same hotel. On the Saturday, again according to your instructions, I took the party to Exeter and on the Sunday, which was the day when Mrs. Leyden had her fatal seizure, we left Exeter at ten in the morning and I set the party down at their home in time for lunch.”
“So Gamaliel, Mrs. Leek and Mr. Porthcawl are definitely out of it,” said Laura.
“And so is Miss Aysgarth, as we have said. She also was in London. It is useful to be able to remove four people from our list of possible suspects. Let us give our attention to those who remain.”
“I still don’t see why we can’t eliminate the two Bosse-Leydens as they had no expectations under Mrs. Leyden’s will.”
“Their children are to benefit, although, from what Mrs. Leek has told me, I gather that this came as a surprise to the parents.”
“Well, then?”
“The motive assigned by the police to the girl Denham could apply equally well to Mr. and Mrs. Bosse-Leyden.”
“Revenge?”
“Exactly. It cannot have been pleasant for either of them to know that Mrs. Leyden despised Mr. Bosse-Leyden for his illegitimate birth, a thing which he was utterly unable to help.”
“You do seem to be in Mrs. Leek’s confidence! I suppose it is from her that you get all your information.”
“Some of it, although she is discreet. I get more, in fact, from George, whom I have asked for reports of gossip at his public house.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“Besides, I can assign another motive to the Bosse-Leydens. It seems to be common knowledge that Rupert Bosse-Leyden has been deeply attracted to Miss Fiona Bute for some years and also that if a divorce between the Bosse-Leyden couple had ever been arranged, Diana Bosse-Leyden and Garnet Porthcawl would have married.”
“But while the strait-laced old lady was alive, I suppose a divorce was out of the question unless Garnet was prepared to be cut out of the will.”
“I gather from Mrs. Leek that it is still out of the question unless the couple wish to deprive their children of that portion which is to come to them when they are of age.”
“So their only plan is to patch up their differences and make the best of matters.”
“Which is what they seem to have done.”
“So the old lady has had the last word after all. What about Fiona Bute?”
“Well, she had quarrelled with Mrs. Leyden and she went to live for a time with the Leeks and Mr. Porthcawl, so she must be on our list. Mrs. Porthcawl also quarrelled with her mother, but she remained at Headlands where she and Miss Bute have now joined forces to the extent that Miss Aysgarth has been finally banished.”
“You don’t suspect Mrs. Porthcawl, though, do you? The quarrel doesn’t seem to have been serious enough for that, if Mrs. Porthcawl could still stay on in the house. Besides, matricide has always seemed to me the most horrible of crimes.”
“Nevertheless, it has
been known, and we must not lose sight of the fact that, of all the suspects, Mrs. Porthcawl had perhaps the best opportunity of anybody for the commission of this particular crime. She was on her own ground, she had unquestionably the right to visit the kitchen, and she had a great deal to gain, in the material sense, by her mother’s death.”
“But could she have been sure of that?”
“You have touched upon the weak spot in my argument. I do not know what she knew. At any rate, we may take it, I think, that she expected to be left the house and the estate. How much of the actual money she hoped to get is problematic. I shall go and ask her to grant me another interview. I am still bearing in mind that the police may have made no mistake in fixing upon Margaret Denham as the guilty party, but nobody wants her condemned if she is innocent.”
“Except the murderer, perhaps.”
“As ever, there is reason in what you point out.”
“You might tell me—strictly off the record, of course— who did it. You’ve fixed on someone, haven’t you? I can’t decide upon any particular party, but I’ve a hunch that you’ve got one of these people very much in your mind.”
“Well, one of them seems to have been more favourably situated than the others for the commission of this particular crime and, psychologically, is the likeliest, except for Miss Aysgarth, to have committed it. It would be most improper of me to name names, however, when, so far, I have nothing in the way of proof.”
“Do you want me to come with you when you go to see Mrs. Porthcawl? Do you want notes to be taken?”
“I think not. What you can do, if you will, is to talk to Mattie Lunn. She has three horses in her care, and you like horses.”
“You think she might let me ride one of them if I did a bit of palmistry?”
“I think it not unlikely. At any rate, the negotiations might provide a talking-point.”
“What is it that you particularly want to know?”
“Whether she saw anybody arrive at Headlands on the Friday or Saturday morning, anybody whom she was somewhat surprised to see.”
Mingled With Venom (Mrs. Bradley) Page 17