by VL McBeath
“What’s that got to do with any of this?”
“It’s just something he said yesterday…”
Mrs McRae’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he been saying? Is he the one who told you I have no friends?”
“Well, it’s rather delicate, but he suggested that since you moved here … to Richmond … and since you became friendly with Rosamund … things haven’t been the same between you and him.”
“And he’s blaming me?”
“Well, he said you spent a lot of time here and I got the impression you were with Rosamund more than you were with him. Could he have been jealous?”
Mrs McRae’s face hardened. “Have you any idea why I was here so often? It was to stop him from visiting, that’s why. He was infatuated with Ros to the point where he frightened her. I couldn’t leave her on her own with him.”
Eliza stared at Betty. “And you knew?”
“Of course I did. I always knew what Ros was doing; not that Cameron realised that. To start with, he would call around to see her when Mr Cranford was at work.”
“And did Mrs Cranford encourage him?” Sergeant Dixon asked.
“Of course she didn’t.” Mrs McRae’s voice squeaked. “She was my friend and wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me … but he would.” Her voice was cold. “He wanted to take her away from me, to a place where I couldn’t find them.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped. “He told you that?”
Betty gave a firm nod. “He told me the night before the party that he was leaving Richmond and taking Ros back to Scotland with him.”
Eliza sat back in her chair. Good grief, I was right! “Well, that certainly explains why you’ve not been speaking to each other. Was Mr Cranford aware of this?”
Mrs McRae’s voice was again raised. “Of course he wasn’t, there was nothing for him to know. Ros wouldn’t have gone unless he’d forced her. She’d have stayed with me.”
Eliza glanced at Sergeant Dixon whose pencil hung over his notebook.
“All right, let me get this straight,” she said. “Your husband was besotted with your best friend and had told you that the two of them were planning on leaving Richmond together.” She held up her hand when Mrs McRae tried to interrupt. “Please, allow me to play devil’s advocate. What if Mrs Cranford intended to go with your husband? Perhaps she lied when she said she was frightened of being alone with him so that you wouldn’t suspect there was anything going on. But you found out. After all, you’ve already said you knew everything she was doing. Would that give you a motive to kill her … to save your marriage? It would be quite easy to take the fruit knife from the table once Rosamund announced what we’d be playing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Did you see my dress yesterday? It was a fitted garment, with tight sleeves and no pockets. Where would I hide a knife?”
“But you wanted her dead?” Sergeant Dixon asked.
“Of course I didn’t. You can play devil’s advocate all you like but I know she had no feelings for my husband, and she wouldn’t have gone to Scotland with him. If I wanted anyone dead, it would be him…” Mrs McRae’s fists were clenched tightly on her lap.
“All right, let’s look at things another way,” Eliza said. “What if Rosamund had told Mr McRae that she wouldn’t go with him? Would that be a reason for him to kill her? Perhaps he thought that if he couldn’t have her, nobody could.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Mrs McRae snarled. “He was always so selfish, always thinking of himself, he never once spared a thought for me.” Suddenly her eyes widened. “You know, I do believe you’re right. I imagine he told Ros of his plans, but she just laughed at him. He wouldn’t have liked that. She’d have told him she wouldn’t leave here because she’d rather be with me. He’d have been furious.” Mrs McRae jumped to her feet. “Sergeant, you must arrest him, the man’s a brute. I can’t go back home with him.”
“Calm down, Mrs McRae,” Eliza said. “You spent the night together last night, and he didn’t harm you.”
“Only because I locked him out of the bedroom.”
Eliza paused to stare at Betty. “You suspected him last night?”
“Not as such, but as you noticed, we weren’t on the best of terms yesterday. What you said makes so much sense, though, and if he believes I was the reason Ros turned against him, I might be next on his list.” Mrs McRae stared at Eliza. “You have to help me.”
“That’s enough.” Sergeant Dixon slipped his notebook into the breast pocket of his uniform. “We’ll speak to him again. Why don’t you go back into the drawing room?”
“I can’t go in there.”
Eliza stood up and put an arm around Betty’s shoulder. “All right, how about going into the dining room? I’m sure Mr Cranford won’t mind.”
Sergeant Dixon was waiting for Eliza when she returned to the morning room.
“What did you think of that?” she asked him.
“She’s hysterical, clearly.” The sergeant rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “If you ask me, I’d say she wants Mr McRae sent to the gallows.”
“So you don’t believe her?”
Sergeant Dixon laughed. “Not a word of it. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she killed Mrs Cranford so she could point the finger at her husband.”
“That seems rather drastic … to kill your best friend, I mean.”
“It doesn’t sound to me like she was her friend.” The sergeant pulled a face. “Mrs Cranford was about to run off with her husband and she knew about it. Imagine the scandal. No, I would say it would be easier to kill Mrs Cranford rather than face the humiliation of her husband leaving her. The only thing is, she couldn’t let him get away with it. What better way to make him pay than by accusing him of murder.”
Eliza sighed. “I can’t argue with your logic, but it sounds to me as if Betty preferred Mrs Cranford’s company to her husband’s.”
“But she couldn’t have killed him; he’d be too big for her, which might explain why she murdered Mrs Cranford instead.
Eliza paused. “We can’t assume she’s the murderer without any evidence. What if she’s telling the truth? We need to speak to Mr McRae again … and Mr Cranford. Let’s see if he knew anything of the relationship between Mrs Cranford and Mr McRae.”
The sergeant sighed. “Very well, let me go and fetch Mr McRae.”
Eliza stared at Mr McRae as he entered the room. Had he slept in the suit he’d been wearing the previous day? Where had the smart businessman gone? He gave her an equally puzzled expression.
“What have you done with Betty? Has she confessed?”
“Would you expect her to?” Eliza asked.
“I-I don’t know.” Mr McRae looked to the sergeant, but Eliza didn’t wait for a response.
“She told us about your relationship with Mrs Cranford. That you used to call here when she was alone and that the two of you were about to go to Scotland. Why didn’t you tell us?”
The colour drained from Mr McRae’s face and he slumped into the nearest chair. “I-I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Eliza couldn’t hide the contempt on her face. “Not relevant?”
“I think you can do better than that, sir,” Sergeant Dixon said. “It looks to me as if you had something to hide.”
“No, I didn’t … I don’t.”
“So, are you going to tell us about it?” Eliza raised an eyebrow.
Mr McRae sighed. “If you must know, I’d told Betty the previous evening that Ros and I were leaving as soon as Christmas was over. Ros had the family coming for Christmas and she didn’t want to upset them all beforehand.”
“But you didn’t worry about telling Mrs McRae?”
Mr McRae shrugged. “She’d been spoiling for a fight all day and I finally snapped. I couldn’t help myself.”
“So that’s why you suspect she was the one who harmed Rosamund? To stop you from leaving her?”
“Good God, no. Oh, please excuse my language, but no. If she murdered her, it
would be to make my life a misery, not to keep me here. She knew that making me stay with her would have been as good as killing me.”
“She believes Rosamund would have stayed here, rather than going with you.”
“She only said that because she refuses to see the truth. I knew how Ros felt about me.”
“But if she refused to believe you, why would she take Rosamund’s life? What if she was right and Rosamund had told you she wasn’t going with you? I saw you disappearing into the hall together before luncheon and she seemed to be in a hurry to tell you something. Was that when you found out she wouldn’t be going with you?”
“No, not at all.”
“I imagine that if she had just rejected you it would have been very tempting to pick up a knife and slip it into your pocket. It’d be easy enough to do. Had you decided that if you couldn’t have her, nobody else could either?”
Mr McRae banged a fist down on the table. “That’s not what happened.”
“So, tell us what did happen then.” The sergeant sat poised with his pencil over his notebook.
Mr McRae pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t like that. Ros was the most special woman I’ve ever known and yes, much nicer than my wife. We loved each other. The problem was, Betty never left her alone. She couldn’t do anything without Betty watching her, but she was so nice, she put up with it for years. Finally, Ros admitted one night that she was tired of the constant attention and needed to get away. That was when I suggested we go together.”
“And she agreed?” Eliza asked.
“Aye, she did. She wasn’t sure at first, said she didn’t want to hurt Mr Cranford, but he was so busy with the store that she never saw him. Eventually she agreed. I was obviously delighted and couldn’t keep it to myself. That was why Betty was in such a foul mood yesterday. You must have noticed.”
“I saw you escort her from the drawing room. Rosamund said she was ill.”
“Yes, that’s one way of putting it. I told you yesterday, Betty was terribly jealous around Ros and so when she was paying you so much attention, she realised Betty was becoming agitated and asked me to talk to her.”
“Presumably she wasn’t aware that you’d told Betty you were leaving. I’m sure you were the last person who should have been pacifying her.”
Mr McRae shrugged. “There was no one else.”
“What about Mr Cranford?” Sergeant Dixon asked. “Was he aware of any of this?”
Mr McRae shook his head. “Not about me and Ros.”
“You’re sure?” Eliza wished she was as confident as Mr McRae about Mr Cranford’s ignorance.
“He knew about the problems with Betty, and Ros had promised to tell him we were leaving once the children had gone.”
“And so you’re not aware of any arguments between Mr and Mrs Cranford?” If he knows, it puts a whole new complexion on things.
“I can’t say I am. As I said, Mr Cranford wasn’t home often enough for them to argue and it troubled Ros. She wanted a man around the house.”
“And so you’ve no reason to suspect he killed her?” Sergeant Dixon asked.
“No, but to be honest, even if he was angry with her, he wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her as much as I did.” Mr McRae wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. “There’s only one person who could have killed her, and she needs locking up.”
The sergeant nodded. “I must admit, it would be heartless for a man to kill his wife days before the family were due home for Christmas.”
Mr McRae put his head in his hands. “It would … almost as heartless as killing her in front of me. God, I’m going to miss her so much.”
Chapter Twelve
By the time Eliza returned to the drawing room Connie and Mr Bell were sitting by the fire with Mr and Mrs Reed.
“Here you are, dear.” Mrs Reed reached out her hand to Mr McRae as he ambled towards them. “Come and sit down. I’ve just asked the maid to bring through a pot of tea and some mince pies. I thought everyone could do with cheering up.” She stared past Mr McRae to the door. “What have you done with Betty?”
Sergeant Dixon answered for him. “She needed some time on her own, so she’s in the dining room.”
“Do you know if Mr Cranford and Dr Thomson are back yet?” Eliza tried to keep her voice flat, but a knot tightened in her stomach.
“Not yet, but Dr Thomson said they’d be back in time for luncheon,” Connie said.
“Well, it’s to be hoped they hurry up, we need to go, don’t we, dear?” Mrs Reed squeezed her husband’s hand.
“What do you mean? You can’t go yet.” Eliza stared at the sergeant.
“There’s a service in church this afternoon and we’re on hymn book duty.” Mr Reed’s voice resonated around the room.
“Exactly,” Mrs Reed added. “We can’t let them down, especially now Rosamund won’t be there.”
“I would suggest we need an outcome to the case before anyone goes wandering off,” Eliza said.
“If Cranford’s gone, the rest of us should be allowed to leave too,” Mr Reed snapped. “He could easily be the killer.”
“That’s why we asked Dr Thomson to escort him,” Sergeant Dixon said. “To make sure he returns.”
“And how do we know it wasn’t the doctor? He’s the only one here who would have known how to stab someone without making them bleed.”
A shudder ran down Eliza’s spine. “Don’t be ridiculous. Doctors swear an oath to help people, not to kill them.”
“That’s enough, sir.” Sergeant Dixon stood over Mr Reed. “We’re doing our best to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can.”
“Well, you need to interview her again.” Mr Reed pointed a finger at Connie. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s still the prime suspect and yet she’s not even being considered.”
“And she hasn’t shown us the ace of spades to prove she was the murderer in the game,” Mr McRae added. “She could have been lying all along about tapping Mrs Reed on the shoulder.”
“I was considered.” Connie’s voice pierced the room. “In fact, I was the first person questioned, but I’ve not been spoken to since because it’s nothing to do with me … and I did have that card, but even if I didn’t, what does it matter? Nobody else has come forward with it.”
Eliza held up a hand. “Connie, please, that’s enough. Mr Reed’s right. While we wait for Mr Cranford’s return, we need to check your alibi and motive alongside some new information we’ve uncovered. Will you come with us?”
A short yelp left Connie’s lips as Eliza headed for the door. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Now, Connie.”
The surprise on the sergeant’s face turned to curiosity as Eliza indicated for him to join them.
“I’ve not done anything…” Connie squealed, as Eliza closed the door to the morning room behind them.
Eliza grinned. “I’m sorry about that, my dear, I just wanted the others to think we were about to interrogate you. I thought it would be easier for the three of us to talk in here, rather than in the drawing room with everyone else listening.”
Connie put a hand to her chest. “You might have warned me. You frightened the living daylights out of me.”
“I know, but I do have a few questions for you. I hope you don’t mind, Sergeant, but Mrs Appleton has a knack of seeing things from a different perspective and I’m hoping she can help us. I must admit that at the moment I’m rather flummoxed by the conflicting stories we’ve been told.”
Sergeant Dixon sighed. “I can’t say I mind because I’m as confused as you, although I wish you’d waited until they’d brought the mince pies through. I didn’t eat much for breakfast this morning.”
“I’m sure we can rectify that.” Eliza pulled a cord in the corner of the room that she presumed would ring a bell in the kitchen. “What would you like?”
By the time she’d finished telling Connie everything they’d learned, a tray of mince pies and a pot of tea had arrived.
“So Mr McRae’s blaming Betty and she’s blaming him?” Connie said once they were alone again.
Eliza stirred the teapot before adding milk to the cups. “That just about sums it up.”
“So, who do you believe?”
“I don’t know. It could be either of them…”
“But?”
Eliza smiled as she picked up the teapot. “But I’m worried we’re overlooking Mr Cranford.”
“Do you think he knew Rosamund was planning on leaving him?”
“It’s a possibility, that’s why I’m so keen to speak to him again.” If he comes back. “I just hope he doesn’t try to disappear.”
“But even if he knew, would he kill Mrs Cranford because of it?” Sergeant Dixon set down his mince pie and wiped the crumbs from his mouth. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if he’d confronted Mr McRae?”
Eliza nodded. “It would, although if Rosamund was determined to leave, the scandal could have ruined his business. How much better to be a grieving widower rather than a wronged husband.”
Connie shuddered. “And he did look terribly upset. Remorse, do you think?”
Eliza shrugged. “It could be. Sergeant, how quickly can your men check up on Mr Cranford’s business finances and the life insurance? I’ve an uneasy feeling about this and if he is our killer, I’m afraid he won’t come back. We really need to find him as soon as possible.”
“I’ve got a man stationed outside the house; I’ll get him onto it straight away.”
Sergeant Dixon picked up the remainder of his mince pie and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
“So, is that it?” Connie leaned back in her chair. “You think Mr Cranford killed his wife to prevent a scandal and possibly claim the life insurance money?”
Eliza sighed. “I can’t say for certain, but I find it hard to believe that Betty or Mr McRae would have hurt Rosamund, given they were both so infatuated with her.”
“What about Mr Reed?”
“What indeed?” Eliza took a sip of her tea. “He may be an opinionated fool, but I can’t find a good reason why he would have killed her. Father didn’t find out anything incriminating other than he’d had an argument with Rosamund about church duties. It’s not much of a motive. No, the best I can come up with is Mr Cranford. I just hope he comes back to the house so we can speak to him.”