by VL McBeath
“No, of course not.” There’s no point arguing, I’m not going to win. Count to three. “So, did you find out anything of interest from her?”
“She said she’d felt a tap on the shoulder during the game and so had sat on a settee pretending to be dead. There was a man nearby who was about to come to her aid and she found out later it was Mr Bell. I’ve no reason to doubt her and it’s highly unlikely she’d be able to inflict such a wound.”
“And so you’re happy to ignore the blood on her skirt? Someone put it there.”
The sergeant squirmed in his seat before studying his notes.
“All right, what about Mr Reed?” Eliza said. “His movements are less certain. He was close to the body when the lights came back on, but I haven’t established whether he had a good relationship with Mrs Cranford, other than the fact they were neighbours.”
Sergeant Dixon shrugged. “Mr Reed was more concerned for his wife than for himself. She’s had a nasty shock, and I promised they could go home as soon as the interviews were over.”
Eliza’s forehead furrowed. “Are you sure that was wise? We’ve no idea about Mr Reed’s background and he’s been hostile to any investigation all afternoon. Mrs Reed may not have committed the murder, but she could be providing a good reason for her husband to get away from the scene of the crime. We can’t just let them walk out of here without having a firmer grasp of who the culprit might be.”
“That will be for me to decide.”
Eliza paused and took a deep breath. “Naturally. All I’m saying is we need to keep an eye on him.” She turned back to her notes. “What about Mrs McRae? You spoke to her alone and I get the distinct impression that your suspicions about Mrs Appleton are as a direct result of your conversation with her.”
“Mrs McRae was hardly likely to murder her best friend. She was very tearful and told me that she and Mrs Cranford were as close as sisters. She’ll miss her dreadfully.”
“But did she tell you she was jealous of the attention Mrs Cranford was giving me earlier today? Mrs McRae was used to having all that affection to herself, but suddenly Mrs Cranford was ignoring her. I’ve been watching her all afternoon and I would say that she’s rather angry. Whether she was furious enough to kill her friend and blame it on someone else, though, is difficult to know.”
“She was adamant that Mrs Appleton must be the killer.”
“And did she provide any evidence, other than the fact that Mrs Appleton fell over the body?”
The sergeant’s cheeks coloured. “No.”
“So she’s made an enemy of Mrs Appleton for reasons known only to herself and she’s already at odds with Mr McRae. I would say they’d had an argument before they arrived here today. They haven’t acknowledged each other this afternoon except for a brief two-minute spell when Mrs McRae was upset and Mr McRae had to deal with her. Did she mention anything about that?”
“Of course she didn’t. That’s personal information; there was no reason for it to come up.”
Eliza sighed. “If you’ll forgive me for saying, that’s what you’re missing in this inquiry. Perhaps if you’d let me sit in while you were questioning her, I could have asked. It worked well enough when I sat in with Inspector Adams. I’d ask the questions he couldn’t.”
“As I said, this is a police investigation and I’ll conduct things my own way.”
“Well, may I suggest that when you speak to Mr McRae, you ask him about the argument? There’s something going on that I suspect could be relevant.”
“What happens between husband and wife is of no concern to the police. Now, if that’s all…”
Eliza stood up and paced the room. “No, actually, it’s not all. I hate to be troublesome, but this is a murder investigation and we have to work out who had a reason to kill their hostess. From where I was standing, Mrs McRae appeared furious rather than shocked when the body was discovered. She certainly didn’t look as upset as you might imagine. You’ll have heard that Mrs Cranford was still alive when we found her. Could that explain Mrs McRae’s reaction? I would say you need to speak to her again and this time focus on what she was doing, instead of listening to her accusing Mrs Appleton.”
The sergeant shifted in his seat. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
Eliza walked back to the table and placed both hands on it. “Sergeant Dixon, we haven’t seen eye to eye so far this afternoon, but all I want to do is help. It’s Christmas in three days’ time and I’m sure you’d like the suspect behind bars by then. I imagine Mrs Dixon has all the arrangements in hand for your Christmas. What will you have to eat? Goose, perhaps. And I bet she’s been baking every day for the last month to get the plum pudding and other treats prepared. She won’t be happy if you’re interviewing suspects on Christmas Day. I don’t suppose you’d like it either.”
The sergeant licked his lips as he stared at Eliza.
“If you’d let me help, you could be at home in front of the fire by the time the final preparations are being made. I’ve a list of questions that need answering and I can run through them with you if you like?”
For the first time that afternoon, the sergeant nodded. “Very well.”
Chapter Nine
Eliza allowed herself a smile as Sergeant Dixon read the questions she’d given him, but it quickly turned to a frown when he pushed the paper towards her and leaned back in his chair.
“Where do you get such fanciful ideas? This should be a simple case of arresting the person closest to the body and you’ve turned it into a web of suspicion.”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, but you need more than that to arrest someone for murder. You have to establish a motive and this is the only way we can do that. It’s never easy asking some of those questions, but that’s where I could help. If Inspector Adams was happy for me to sit in…”
The sergeant sighed. “I really don’t know…”
Eliza studied the notes that now stared up at her from the table. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you interview my father next? He won’t mind if I’m here and then you’ll see if you’re comfortable with me helping. If you’re not, then I’ll go.”
After another pause, the sergeant reluctantly nodded his head. “Very well then; let me get him.”
While she waited, Eliza vacated the seat intended for the suspects and positioned a high-backed dining chair to the right-hand side of the sergeant. I might as well do things properly.
“Do you mind your daughter sitting in with us?” Sergeant Dixon asked Mr Bell as they returned to the morning room.
Mr Bell winked at Eliza. “Not at all, Sergeant. I happen to know she’s rather good at this.”
“Are you familiar with this Inspector Adams she claims to have helped?”
Mr Bell shuddered. “I most certainly am. Without him and my daughter I might not be sitting here now. The two of them make an excellent pair of detectives if you ask me.”
Eliza couldn’t fathom the expression on Sergeant Dixon’s face. Was it disbelief, incredulity, admiration? No, not admiration.
“Right, well, good. Shall we start? Now, going back to the events of this afternoon, I understand you were close to Mrs Reed when Mrs Cranford’s body was found.”
“That’s right, and to save you asking, I didn’t see or hear anything unusual leading up to the incident.”
The sergeant’s pencil scratched on the paper of his notebook as he wrote. “Can you prove the murder was nothing to do with you?”
Mr Bell shrugged. “Not directly, but I’ll tell you this, I wouldn’t be sat here now if it was. I’d have disappeared rather quickly instead of coming to fetch you. The fact that I reported the incident and came straight back should be proof enough that I’ve nothing to hide.”
Sergeant Dixon nodded. “Did you know Mrs Cranford well?”
“Not really, although she was a good neighbour. She always kept an eye on the local houses and regularly checked up on everyone to make sure we were all safe. She’d do shopping for
those who couldn’t get out and spent a lot of time at church. I don’t remember anyone with a bad word to say about her.”
Eliza tentatively put her hand in the air. “Would you mind if I interrupted?” Eliza waited for permission before speaking to her father. “What about her relationship with the neighbours here today? Had it not been for us, Mrs McRae could have had Mrs Cranford to herself. Did she spend much time with Mr and Mrs Reed or were they just here to make up the numbers?”
“Gosh, no, nothing like that. They were best of friends. Mrs Cranford once told me she treated them as if they were her parents … she’d apparently lost her own when she was young.”
“Didn’t they have children of their own?”
Mr Bell shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
The sergeant turned to Eliza. “Are you suggesting that if they had a good relationship with Mrs Cranford, neither of them would have wanted her dead?”
“Perhaps, unless they’d argued over something. Not that I’m saying they had, we just need to keep our eyes and ears open in case they say anything.”
“I can do that from next door,” Mr Bell said. “I get along well enough with Mr Reed, or at least I did until today; why don’t I go and sit with them?”
“Yes, you do that.” Eliza gave the sergeant a sideways glance. “I’m hoping Sergeant Dixon will let me stay here while he interviews Mr McRae. I can’t help thinking he knows more than he’s told us.” Eliza hadn’t realised she was holding her breath until the sergeant nodded. “Thank you, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”
“Have you finished with me then, Sergeant?” Mr Bell asked.
“Yes, for now, but you must come and tell me if you find out any more from Mr Reed.”
Without further comment, the sergeant escorted Mr Bell back to the drawing room. It was several minutes later when he returned with Mr McRae and Eliza let out an involuntary gasp. His eyes were red and swollen, and his previously neat hair was dishevelled. Oh my goodness, he’s been crying. He stared at Eliza but said nothing as he sat down.
“Now, Mr McRae,” the sergeant started, “you were standing in the middle of the room when the lights were switched back on. Did you see or hear anything?”
Mr McRae clenched his fists in his lap. “Nothing of any importance it seems.” He spat out his words. “I wish I had; I’d give that villain what for.”
“I’m sure there’s no need for that, we don’t want any more bodies. Have you any idea why someone would want Mrs Cranford dead?”
Mr McRae fought back his tears as he took a handkerchief from his pocket. “I can’t imagine why anyone in London would want her dead, let alone someone in this house. If I hadn’t been there to see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Yes, right.” The sergeant studied his notebook before turning to Eliza. “Mrs Thomson, you had a question.”
“I did, thank you. Mr McRae, I was standing beside you when the lights came back on and I’ve been thinking about your reaction. It was rather unusual. You didn’t wait for your eyes to adjust to the light but instead you rushed straight to Mrs Cranford’s body; I don’t think anyone else had even noticed her. I can’t put my finger on it, but it was as if you were expecting her to be exactly where she was.”
Mr McRae’s jaw tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous, how would I know that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to work out.” Eliza cocked her head to one side as she stared at him.
“All right, I won’t deny that I looked for her as soon as the lights came back on.” Mr McRae squirmed in his seat. “She’d been so excited to be the detective and I wanted to see the look on her face when she spotted the victim. It was a coincidence that I saw her straight away.”
“You were looking for her on the floor?”
Mr McRae gave her a steely-eyed glare. “Of course I wasn’t, I just saw her before anyone else, that’s all.”
Sergeant Dixon interrupted. “How well did you know Mrs Cranford?”
Mr McRae glanced down at his hands. “Not as well as Betty obviously, but Ros and Mr Cranford would often join us for dinner, or we’d come here. She was a good neighbour … as is Mr Cranford.”
Eliza softened her expression and held Mr McRae’s gaze. “Forgive me for mentioning this, but you seemed rather taken with Mrs Cranford when we arrived.”
Mr McRae’s forehead creased. “Why shouldn’t I be? I was being friendly.”
“It’s just that I didn’t see her returning your attention. Was that usual?”
“Not when there were only the four of us, but we weren’t the only guests today. Of course she couldn’t spend as much time with me … us … Betty and me, as she normally would.”
“You didn’t look particularly pleased at the time.”
Mr McRae shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”
“Maybe you didn’t, but your wife did. Could you tell us anything about your wife’s friendship with Mrs Cranford?”
Mr McRae groaned. “If you’re so observant, you must have seen it for yourself. Betty thought the world of her. She was always around here and wanted to do everything Ros did. She rarely waited for an invitation.”
“And did Mrs Cranford mind that?”
“I couldn’t say.”
Eliza paused and bit down on her bottom lip. “Mr McRae, this is a rather personal question, but would you mind telling me about your relationship with your wife?”
Mr McRae stared at Eliza, his mouth open. “Aye, I would mind. What’s it got to do with you?”
Eliza shifted in her chair. “The thing is, over luncheon I didn’t see the two of you even acknowledge each other, except for one occasion when Betty became hysterical and Mrs Cranford asked you to talk to her. Had we not been introduced, I wouldn’t have known you were acquainted with each other, let alone married.”
“We were being sociable with the other guests; we spend enough time together at home.”
“And yet despite that, you barely took your eyes off Mrs Cranford.”
“I think you’re imagining things.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow. “Really? I was studying Betty earlier and realised that she and Mrs Cranford had very similar tastes in clothes and wore their hair in the same style. Could it be that your wife was aware of your infatuation with Rosamund and was trying to make herself more like her to get your attention?”
Mr McRae threw back his head and released a humourless laugh. “You really have no idea. Betty is one of the most unlikeable women you’ll ever meet. The thing is, she doesn’t believe it and so for years she’s copied Rosamund hoping it would fool people into liking her too.”
Eliza stared at Mr McRae. You can’t say that about your wife! “Well, I’m sure I don’t know what to say. If she’s so bad, why did you marry her? You must have liked her once.”
Mr McRae hesitated as he glanced between Eliza and the sergeant. “Look, this really isn’t any of your business, but let me be honest with you. My marriage to Betty is a sham, it has been from the start. Her father tricked me into it, promising me untold family wealth once we were married. Unfortunately, by the time I found out he was exaggerating, it was too late.”
“You’re saying you only married her for money?” Eliza’s eyes were wide.
Mr McRae shrugged. “It seemed like a perfect compromise. I needed money to stay down here and her father was desperate to get her married off before she was too old. We managed well enough in the early days, but once we moved here everything changed. Ros took over our lives and Betty became infatuated with her. In fact, I’m rather concerned she’s done something stupid.”
The sergeant’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Mr McRae puffed out his cheeks. “It probably sounds ridiculous, but Betty’s an incredibly jealous person. It had got to the stage where she wanted Rosamund all to herself, but naturally Ros wouldn’t stop seeing her other friends. That was when Betty became ‘difficult’. She hated it when Ros got the attention an
d she didn’t … and as you saw today, it wasn’t easy to deal with. She could be as nice as pie in public, but once we got home, she would fly into a rage, throwing things and shouting about how everyone fussed Ros and not her.”
“So, you think she was jealous of her?”
“I don’t think she was, I know it. As much as she might tell you how much she liked her, she hated her too.”
“Could she have hated Mrs Cranford enough to kill her?” the sergeant asked.
Mr McRae rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know; I hope not, but I can’t help worrying… She has been rather hysterical recently.”
The sergeant’s handwriting became hurried as he scribbled into his notebook before looking up. “And so you had no reason to want Mrs Cranford dead?”
Mr McRae leaned back in his chair, the rims of his eyes still red. “Believe me Sergeant, that’s the last thing I wanted.”
Eliza’s mind was racing as the sergeant ushered Mr McRae from the room. Grown men don’t cry. Why was he so upset? She still had the image of his tear-filled eyes in her mind when an idea struck her. Could he and Rosamund have been more than neighbours? She immediately shook her head. No, they’re both married and Rosamund didn’t look the type to even consider anything like that. She shuddered at the thought, but it was still troubling her when the sergeant returned with Archie. Perhaps I’ll keep it to myself for now.
“How are you getting on?” Archie asked.
“Not very well, although I can’t get Mr McRae out of my mind. He seems far more upset than he should be. We need to speak to Mrs McRae again too.”
The sergeant let out a sigh. “I suppose so, but I still have suspicions about Mrs Appleton…”
Archie burst out laughing. “You’re not serious!”
“No, the sergeant’s not, are you?” Eliza glared at Sergeant Dixon until he turned away. “He’s just relying on the word of one witness and as soon as he can dismiss it, he will. Isn’t that right?”