by Caron Allan
‘Even your designs?’ Lewis asked. There was a little spite in his question. Dottie wondered if he wanted to embitter her against Imogen. Like Guy’s, his character had a malicious side. But it couldn’t happen, Dottie knew, because she refused to allow herself to be bitter about it.
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘Even my designs.’
‘Oh Dottie!’
‘It’s all right, Imogen. You know it’s quite all right. Though I’ve no idea how you hoped to get any money for those.’
Imogen gave a rueful smile. ‘I didn’t even think about that.’
Hardy said, ‘Because Miss Cowdrey’s only plan was to escape, she had no real reason, no pressing reason to kill her mother.’
‘But what about the money you said my wife gave Clarke to pay him off? Surely that ruined Imogen’s plans. I’d say that gave her a big enough motive all right.’ Lewis seemed to think he’d put one over the inspector. But had he really meant to implicate his own daughter in her mother’s death? Dottie could only hope either the brandy or the situation had made him overlook the possible impact of what he had just said.
Hardy just smiled. ‘It’s true Miss Cowdrey was in despair over Clarke failing to arrive for their meeting. But she knew nothing of the money that had change hands. She only found that out when he regained consciousness. At the time, she merely thought that Mr Clarke had tired of her and abandoned her. She was distraught and after keeping watch for him from the old billiard room to no avail, she went outside to look for him. And found him, though he was unconscious, mercifully, and not dead as she thought.’
‘But were you in your room the night of your mother’s death?’ Dottie asked. ‘After you went downstairs to telephone Norris? I waited to see if you would come back up, and then I went down to try and find you. I heard the argument in the morning room and came away. I went to your room, but—I wasn’t sure—were you there? Were you asleep? Or weren’t you? I’d seen someone outside, but I couldn’t tell who it was. I thought it must be Norris, but...’
‘I went into the billiard room. I put a lamp by the window so Norris would know to come to the window. It was far too cold to be outside. I thought it would be nice to be inside for once.’ She looked embarrassed. From that, Dottie assumed that Norris had indeed come into the house that night.
Imogen continued, ‘Norris told me about the money this morning. He took it from my mother. He said he thought it was about time my family gave me something, and it may as well be money. My dowry, he called it. He went to the bank and cashed the cheque, then he went to the jeweller’s and bought me an engagement ring. He rang up a hotel in Paignton and booked us into a room for a two-week stay. It was going to be our honeymoon. Lastly, he went to the registrar and arranged a marriage license. We’re to be married tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. But instead of at the town hall in Horshurst, it will be at the hospital. He’s not quite well enough to leave yet. As soon as he is well enough, we shall go to Paignton for our honeymoon. I’ve spoken to the people who run the hotel and they’ve been very understanding. And when we come back, we shall live in the flat over the shop. I love him, I intend to be happy, and to live my own life. Nothing any of you can say shall stop me.’
A stunned silence greeted Imogen’s speech. Dottie wanted to clap and cheer. Lewis came over and kissed her cheek.
‘I’m very happy for you, my dear. Many congratulations.’
‘Will you give me away?’ Imogen asked him. Dottie saw the regret in his eyes and knew before he answered what he was going to say.
‘I’m sorry, Imogen. I can’t. I’ve been a rotten father to you, I know. But I’ve rather gone off the sacred estate of matrimony. I intend to go to Maria as soon as possible. I shan’t come back. Leo, I will sign everything over to you legally and finally, and I will step aside. I can’t stand this place for another minute, and it’s the least you deserve.’
Leo was on his feet, all bluster and alarm. ‘But Father... I mean, really, no I don’t want...’
Lewis smiled and clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry my dear boy, but I’m through with it all. And you don’t need me. You’ve been nominally in charge of everything for several years now. Rather like Imogen, I’ve decided to go and live my own life with the one I love. In fact, why wait? I think I shall leave now.’
‘Er, sir...?’ Palmer shot a look of alarm at Hardy.
‘You can’t keep me here, inspector. You know perfectly well I didn’t kill my wife. I’m leaving.’ Lewis looked ill, Dottie thought, and immensely weary. His shoulders slumped, his feet shuffled. Thirty-five years of lies hung on his neck like a weight he could no longer support.
Hardy nodded to Palmer. ‘It’s all right. Let him go.’
Palmer opened the door and let Lewis go out into the hall, Palmer followed, presumably to unlock the front door, Dottie thought.
‘But I don’t understand,’ Leo repeated. ‘Then who did kill my mother?
Hardy was about to reply, but June beat him to it.
‘Oh Leo. You really are very slow sometimes. I killed her of course.’
Even though Dottie had known what was coming, it was shocking to hear June say it out loud.
Leo stared uncomprehendingly. ‘You?’
‘Of course. Oh, not on purpose.’ She gave a careless little laugh. They might have been discussing some mix-up at the post office. ‘I’d never have done that.’
‘Then why?’
‘I thought she was Dottie. Pure and simple. Imagine my horror next morning when I realised the truth. Although the chance of getting her hanged for the murder almost came off. It was a stroke of genius to suggest to you that she’d been trying to kill your mother instead of saving her. You really got the bit between your teeth, didn’t you, Leo dear? Oh, it almost worked.’ To Dottie she sounded wistful.
‘But why?’ Leo persisted.
‘Oh she can tell you,’ June said with a nod at Dottie. ‘I’m not in the mood for this foolishness any more. She thinks she’s so clever, let her tell you all about it.’
Everyone looked at Dottie.
‘She was standing near the back door. She’d come to the house to kill me. She refused to allow me to get in her way. June had plans for Leo to succeed to her father’s business empire, and hopefully gain a title. Not to mention St Martins as well, when Lewis was gone. She no doubt thought they could in a few short years unite both estates and practically become nobility. Certainly, she aspired to great wealth and influence. She craved status and to feel important. Obviously having been to the house almost daily for years, she knew how to get in, the best way to move around the house without being seen. She didn’t even have to make her way upstairs.
‘But she thought the same as the staff: she heard arguing coming from the morning room, and thought it was me in there with Cecilia. It was well-known in the family that Cecilia and I had been arguing about things. When Cecilia said, ‘I want you out of this house first thing tomorrow,’ and the door opened, someone came out into the darkness of the hall. I suppose it must have seemed like the perfect chance to get rid of me.’
‘We still haven’t found the murder weapon,’ Hardy said. ‘I am fairly certain it was thrown into the lake at the same time the body of Mrs Cowdrey was disposed of.’
Dottie shot him an embarrassed look. He stared at her. ‘I think you’ll find it was probably this,’ she said, and pulled a small heavy object from behind the cushion of the sofa where she was sitting. She held it out to him. He took it, almost dropped it, not seeing what it was and finding it heavier than he’d expected.
‘A cannonball?’ He was more than a little surprised.
She sent him an apologetic look. ‘I meant to tell you. But it was when we got the phone call to say Norris was awake. Everything else went out of my mind. But if you look at the tablecloth the cannonballs are resting on, you can see a patch that is sort of rusty and brown right where this one was. I think the patch was made by water and blood from the cannonball. I suppose June tr
ied to wash the blood off but it left a little puddle on the tablecloth which is still slightly damp. It’s quite hard to properly dry rusty iron...’
He looked at her still. Torn between a desire to laugh at his own stupidity, or her sweet cleverness, or to feel irritated that she had seen something he had missed, or that she was now telling everyone what had happened, the very thing he had criticised Gervase Parfitt for allowing. He couldn’t think of anything else to say other than, ‘Thank you. Perhaps you’d continue?’
She thought for a moment, then said, ‘Well as soon as the door opened, June was ready. She’d grabbed the cannonball from the heap and planned to simply lash out. It was heavy enough that very little actual force was needed. But of course, it wasn’t me who came out but Cecilia. We’re roughly the same height and build. Our hair was similarly styled, and in the dark...’ Dottie shrugged.
Leo stared at his wife, appalled. ‘You killed my mother.’
She ignored him, going to stand by Guy’s side.
Hardy said to June, ‘Luckily for you, the person Mrs Cowdrey was arguing with was her son, your lover Guy Cowdrey. He saw you and helped you get the body out of the house.’
‘Oh he went to pieces, poor lamb,’ June said, reaching up a hand to stroke Guy’s cheek. ‘I had to keep telling him to move, to do something useful. He just stood there, frozen to the spot. I remembered there was a wheelbarrow in the potting shed. I knew where the shed key was kept. I told Guy to bring his mother’s corpse to the back door, whilst I went out for the wheelbarrow.’
‘I knew the door was open,’ Dottie said, ‘I could feel the draught coming into the hall. But I thought it was either Imogen going out or Norris coming in. I never dreamt...’
‘Was Mother actually dead at that point?’ Leo asked, his voice rasping with emotion. ‘Did you even bother to check, Guy?’
‘Yes. Of course I checked. What do you take me for? She was already dead. Otherwise I should never have gone along with it.’
‘As it was,’ Hardy said, ‘your decision to go along with it almost cost Norris Clarke his life. He saw you wheeling the body to the potting shed.’
‘Yes,’ Guy admitted. ‘That was stupid. I almost caved when I was waiting for June to fetch the wreath. She was gone so long, and I was breaking out in a cold sweat, convinced I’d get caught. She had made up her mind to use the blessed thing. Hoped it would put suspicion on Dottie.’
‘That was a dramatic flair that was perhaps a step too far,’ June admitted. ‘But at the time, it seemed perfect. I’d already made the wreath. I just had to add to it the bit of fabric I found on the floor upstairs. But then of course, Norris got in the way...’
Guy said, ‘June didn’t even know Clarke used to wait around out there for Imogen. When June found out, well...’ He paused, then added, ‘I didn’t realise she’d attacked him as well. I thought she was just going to pay him off. Thought he’d see it as his chance to get Imogen away.’
‘You idiot,’ June said, shaking her head. ‘But no, Norris was an unforeseen problem that had to be dealt with. I didn’t realise he lurked outside to see Imogen. How pathetic. Although Norris didn’t really know what he’d seen, or he would have gone straight to the police. I went out there to him, right up to him and he wasn’t at all suspicious. He just asked me what I was doing there. He thought I had a message from Imogen. I walked right up to him, then crash...’
Dottie gasped. Imogen turned her head away in horror.
June actually laughed. ‘He went down like a sack of potatoes. Sadly though, I didn’t do quite such a good job with him as I did with Cecilia.’ She looked genuinely annoyed at that.
Perhaps she was mad, Dottie thought.
‘But why, June?’
‘Oh Imogen, really? Because he saw me, of course. You’re such a goose.’
‘Better a goose than a murderer. I mean, why did you kill my mother—why did you want to kill Dottie? You hardly know her.’
‘And yet she managed to ruin my life, all the same.’
‘By being the real flesh-and-blood daughter of your adoptive father,’ Dottie stated.
‘Exactly. His bastard child. Taking away my heritage, destroying my future plans.’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference, June. Sir Stanley told me that he loved you as if you were his own child. He had no plans to disinherit you.’
June stared. Her face had gone an odd greyish colour. ‘Yes, he would...’
‘No,’ Dottie said firmly. ‘He wouldn’t. He told me he’d like to settle a lump sum on me now to help me with my business. But he had no intention of changing his will. Besides, I didn’t want him to, we had only just met and barely knew each other, and I told him I thought it was right that you should be his heiress as he’d always intended.’ After a moment she couldn’t resist adding, ‘So it was all for nothing. You had no reason to kill me—or Aunt Cecilia. You did it all for nothing.’
With a howl of rage, June launched herself at Dottie. The men rushed forward to pull her away, then Guy suddenly yelled:
‘Everyone, stop!’
They froze, seeing that he now held a gun in his hand.
‘Where did he...?’ Dottie asked.
‘Everybody stand perfectly still. June, my darling, come. Let’s go. We can get away now.’
‘We can rush him,’ Hardy called to Palmer, who nodded.
‘Oh William, no!’ Dottie shrieked, stepping forward.
‘Stay where you are!’ Guy and June began to back away. They reached the hall just as the policemen rushed at them. June grabbed at something hidden from view behind the door frame.
There was a blast. Spears and suits of armour fell and tangled to form a hurdle across the doorway. Tables and shelving splintered. Muskets subsided into the wreckage, tearing down a pennant and a standard. Cannonballs crashed and rolled. Shields toppled and spun like coins on the wooden floorboards. The men fought their way through the heavy iron and wood to reach the front door.
Guy and June were already out of the house, their feet smashing the gravel.
In just a few more seconds, Hardy reached the front door, racing round the side of the house to cannon straight into Guy’s fist. Hardy went down and Palmer fell over the top of him.
At that moment, June tore past them in Guy’s Morris Minor, leaving Guy standing there, bellowing after her, a look of disbelief on his face. Everyone crowded outside. Hardy and Palmer helped each other up. Dottie reached for Hardy, alarmed to see the blood pouring from his nose.
If they thought June would head out of the park and onto the village street to get away, they were mistaken. She drove at full pelt down the lawn and into the lake, the car slamming into the freezing water and disappearing almost at once beneath the heavy icy surface.
Guy sank to his knees sobbing. The gun fell from his hand to the gravel and Dottie saw it was just another broken relic from the past, snatched from a shelf of curios.
The geese on the lawn flapped their mutilated wings and honked in indignation at the disturbance.
Chapter Twenty-three
William said, ‘By the way, I’m driving back to London tomorrow as soon as the funeral is over. If Miss Cowdrey and Mr Clarke are borrowing Dottie’s car, can I give you a lift?’
Lavinia Manderson exchanged a questioning look with her daughter. Dottie nodded. Mrs Manderson said, ‘Thank you, William, dear, that would be very kind. I must admit I wasn’t looking forward to going back by train.’
‘Will you come to Imogen’s wedding tomorrow morning?’ Dottie asked.
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t. There’s still so much paperwork to be done before I can leave, and I promised Sergeant Palmer I’d buy him a pint.’
‘Don’t drink too much, Inspector,’ she cautioned, her eyes teasing him. ‘Remember you’ve got to drive us back to London.’
‘So I have. Poor old Palmer will have to wait—or settle for a pot of tea.’
They made arrangements for the next day, and he said
goodnight, hesitating in the hall. They looked at one another. Dottie bit her lip, then after another moment, held out her hand.
‘Well, goodnight, William. I’ll see you tomorrow at twelve. It will be such a relief to get away from here.’
He nodded, turned and left, hunching his coat closer about him, holding onto his hat as the sudden breeze snatched at it. Dottie closed the door, and sighed.
The morning of Imogen’s wedding was cold but bright. The sun shone, and the rain kept away. It was the best the season had to offer, but it was more than enough.
Leo gave his sister away. Norris had no best man. Nevertheless, the bride and groom looked blissfully happy as Imogen turned Norris’s wheelchair from the registrar to face the tiny group for the first time as man and wife.
There was to be no wedding breakfast. Norris was bundled back into his hospital bed by an anxious ward sister. The honeymoon would have to wait until the groom was well enough to be discharged. Imogen, glowing and lovely, perched on the edge of the seat pulled up to the bedside. It was enough to be together. At last, Dottie thought as she and Mrs Manderson threw rose petals over the couple.
Imogen bloomed. Her cheeks were pink without the help of anything from a jar, although her hair had been becomingly arranged by Dottie that morning. Imogen’s eyes had been made up carefully to enhance their deep tones and long lashes. The dress was neither new nor fashionable, but it had a pretty elegance that suited the bride. All in all, Dottie thought, nothing else mattered. All that mattered was that happiness was there and had to be grabbed with both hands while it was possible.