Getting Away with Murder?

by Anne Morice

  ‘Does he really cope with all the cooking on his own? No kitchen staff at all?’

  ‘If so,’ Toby remarked, ‘I shall have a word to say on the subject to Mrs Parkes next time she complains about only having one pair of hands.’

  ‘He does have some help, but only on a rota basis. There are two local women who each come three days a week. Their job is mainly cleaning, preparing vegetables and so on. They leave between two and three in the afternoon, depending on the amount of washing up after lunch. The two waitresses, who live in the flat over the stables, come on duty at midday till around three o’clock and again at seven-thirty in the evening. Finally, there’s a youthful moonlighter, who’s supposed to come at nine to wash up after dinner, but he’s not very reliable and sometimes, on a busy evening, Jake and Louisa are hard at it until after midnight. When you remember that they have to be back in the kitchen to start on the breakfast trays soon after seven, it’s not surprising that they have a tendency to disappear during the afternoon. About the only time they get to clean out the stables and dig the garden. However, the point is that between approximately six o’clock and seven-thirty Jake is virtually on his own.’

  ‘Which also applies to Louisa, presumably?’

  ‘Not to the same extent because she and Verity were more or less interchangeable during the late afternoon and evening, taking over from each other, or more often not, as the need arose. Obviously, there were lulls when she could have nipped out, but it would have needed timing and luck to have hit on the right one. She was certainly on duty at the desk when the Godstow lot returned from the theatre and again between seven and half past when the Fellowes came down and went into the bar. She was still there when Jimmie turned up soon afterwards.’

  ‘And there’s another reason why Louisa doesn’t qualify,’ I said. ‘Whoever killed Verity must surely have arranged to meet her at a certain time in the summer house and it’s hard to imagine what excuse Louisa could have found for that. If they had anything to say to each other, there was nothing to prevent their saying it indoors. Jake is a much more promising candidate in that respect.’

  ‘You have missed the point,’ Toby told me.

  ‘Oh, have I? What point?’

  ‘In assuming that the one who made the appointment with Verity was also the murderer. If Louisa had overheard the other two planning an assignation, she could have gone to the kitchen ten minutes before the appointed time, flung out some excuse to keep Jake chained to the stove and set off at a brisk pace for the summer house. If Jake had turned up later and found Verity dead, he would have been in no great hurry to advertise the fact.’

  ‘You’re both going too fast,’ Robin said. ‘For the moment all we’re concerned about is who could or could not have been in the summer house during the relevant period. It turns out that Jake and Louisa both could, although it would have been that much easier for him. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make him unique. In fact, the only one who appears to be entirely in the clear is Kenneth. His story is that he opened up the bar at six o’clock, as he does every evening, and that he remained there until closing time. There seems no reason to disbelieve him. Since it’s open to non-residents as well, he is the one person whose absence, even for five minutes, would have been noticed. Besides, I agree with Tessa that in all probability it was the murderer who arranged to meet Verity and it is hard to see why Kenneth should have chosen such a time for it.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, ‘so now tell us about the others. Starting with the Fellowes.’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter where I started. In essence, each story is much like another. The only variation is in the details.’

  ‘Then you had better give us the details,’ Toby said, ‘and let us see what we can do with those.’

  ‘In chronological order, it goes like this: the Fellowes returned from their walk soon after five and went to their room. They asked for tea, which was taken up to them by Verity. Avril then lay down for an hour, while Charles wrote some letters. At six-fifteen, he came downstairs, with the letters in his hand, saying that he was taking them to the pillar box.’

  ‘The last post would have gone by then,’ I said.

  ‘As Verity pointed out to him, but he explained that he wanted to be sure of their catching the first collection in the morning. She wasn’t there, and neither was Louisa when he got back, but he and his wife came down together about an hour later. Between those two appearances, Godstow had returned with his daughter and Stephanie and they too had gone to their rooms to bath and change, Godstow in one and the two girls together in another. Unlike the Fellowes, they came down one at a time. Diana was the first and she went out to the terrace, having ordered a drink which was brought to her by Kenneth. Stephanie followed about twenty minutes later and Louisa, who by then had taken over the desk, told her where to find Diana. They were eventually joined by Mr God, who stopped on his way through to ask whether his son had arrived, to which Louisa replied that she had not seen him, but she had been out in the kitchen for the past five or ten minutes. All these stories have been corroborated to some extent and they bring us, by a natural sequence, to Jimmie, who has produced the only one so far to arouse more than a spark of interest.’

  ‘How can you say that,’ I protested, ‘when clearly everyone you’ve mentioned had a perfect opportunity to go to the summer house, by way of the back staircase, without the others knowing?’

  ‘Yes, but they’d have needed luck to time it right. That almost rules out Godstow, incidentally, doesn’t it? Also there appears to be no hint of a motive for any of them. However, that is another kettle of fish, which is nowhere near coming to the boil yet and, in the meantime, Jimmie’s story does contain a couple of discrepancies which may need following up. Well?’

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘Why aren’t you jumping about and declaring him to be innocent, long before you’ve heard what they are?’

  ‘I think I can guess what one of them is, but go on!’

  ‘The curtain came down at ten past five. No one went round to see him afterwards, but there was a note from his father at the stage door, inviting him to join them here for dinner. As a result, when he had changed and taken off his make-up, he went to the phone box in the foyer and rang Bobbie to tell her that he would not be home till late. Wilkins, understandably, accepted that as perfectly normal behaviour, but I confess I was surprised.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, honestly, Tessa, aren’t you the one who’s always going on about how he can hardly bring himself to speak to his father? And now here he is, accepting two invitations from him in a week. So what’s happened?’

  ‘I can tell you exactly what’s happened,’ Toby said. ‘Love has conquered. I cannot say I admire his taste, but we all saw him gazing into her eyes and laughing at her silly jokes this evening.’

  ‘Yes, we did and, personally, I thought he was laying it on a bit too thick. I could be wrong, but it struck me that there was something phoney about it. For one thing, I don’t recall his paying any special attention to her at the birthday party and, in fact, he walked out without saying goodnight to her. Furthermore, as soon as he’d swallowed his dinner this evening he marched up to invite Tessa to accompany him on a moonlight walk. That doesn’t sound very lover-like behaviour to me. Unless, the object of this exercise was to reveal the secrets of his heart and maybe seek some practical advice on a tactful way of breaking the news to Roberta?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted, ‘so far as I remember, the subject of Stephanie was not mentioned,’ and then, unsure whether in these new circumstances the time had yet come, or would ever come, to talk about bloodstained shirts concealed in bushes, I left it there and said: ‘Well, come on, tell us about the other discrepancy!’

  Robin gave me a speculative look, as of one registering a point for inclusion in the files, and then continued: ‘It concerns the more practical matter of the time element. As I told you, the curtain was down at ten past five and so, as he admits, allowing
for the time it took him to change and make the telephone call, he was ready to leave, and doubtless was seen to do so, by six o’clock. He arrived here at seven-forty. In other words, it took him just over an hour and a half to cover a distance of thirty miles.’

  I had been prepared for this and I said: ‘Don’t forget his wrist. He was probably hampered by that and taking it extra slow.’

  ‘No, we have not been allowed to forget it. He drew our attention to it, when the time gap was pointed out to him.’

  ‘And it is true, you know, Robin. He told me how it happened. It had nothing to do with this evening’s events, so I needn’t go into it now, but I promise you he’s not faking.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you can tell by the way he uses it, when he’s concentrating on something else, that it doesn’t inconvenience him all that much. Certainly not enough to add thirty or forty minutes to the journey and, in fact, there are grounds for believing that he arrived here at least half an hour earlier than he says.’

  ‘What grounds?’

  ‘Someone else is almost certain of having seen him near the main gate before seven o’clock.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Charles Fellowes, on his way back from the pillar box. He stopped at the end of the drive because there was a car coming up on his right. It was going slowly and the left hand indicator was flashing, but he has little faith in his fellow motorists, so he waited to make sure, which was just as well. At the last minute the driver changed his mind, picked up speed and drove on past. So, one way and another, Fellowes had plenty of time to observe the car and he still thinks it was Featherstone’s.’

  ‘Why still?’

  ‘In the sense that he did not question it at the time and the element of doubt crept in later. The impression we got was that it was not so much doubt as embarrassment that made him hesitate. He had realised by then what his evidence could imply.’

  ‘And there is also an outside chance, is there not, that he invented the evidence? That what he actually did when he walked out of the hotel, brandishing his letters, was to stuff them in his pocket and streak off to the summer house. It’s only his word against Jimmie’s.’

  ‘Quite so, but I have to tell you that, of the two words, his is the one which Wilkins is more inclined to accept. You may put that down to prejudice on his part, but you have to admit that there’s no reason on earth why Fellowes should have made it up. It does nothing to substantiate his own story and he cannot be so simple as to imagine that it provides him with anything resembling an alibi.’

  ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘Nothing, for the moment, and perhaps nothing in the future, either, unless some more positive evidence were to turn up. For the time being, it remains as just a question mark against his name. And so . . .’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘If you were to be invited out for another walk in the garden, it might be a friendly gesture to advise him to dream up a slightly more convincing way to account for those missing forty minutes.’

  DAY FIVE

  (1)

  There were twenty-three runners listed in the morning paper for the fifth race, which was at four o’clock. It was an amateur maiden chase and one of them, Pagan Lad by name, was owned, trained and ridden by Mr Anthony Blewiston. Another was called Flight Path, trained by Jock Symington and ridden by Mrs Louisa Coote.

  ‘I had no idea you were in that league,’ I told her, putting the newspaper down, as she wheeled in the breakfast trolley. ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘Not specially. Too much on my mind for that.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. I wonder that you feel able to go through with it?’

  ‘Oh well, I did think of backing out, but what would be the use of that? It wouldn’t do Verity any good and I’d feel worse than ever letting Jock down. He’d have a hell of a job finding another rider at such short notice and he can’t scratch now, without losing money.’

  This made sense, but I wondered if she might also be using the occasion to demonstrate to the world that, despite everything, no cloud of suspicion was hanging over Mattingly Grange.

  ‘Shall we put our money on you?’ I asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t, if I were you. He’s a game little chap, but he’ll be up against some stiff competition today and that rain we had the other night won’t have pleased him. Also he likes to be up there in front, right from the start and, with such a large field, that won’t be easy.’

  The tight-lipped expression was relaxing now, so before she could command us to let us know if there was anything we needed, I took a chance and asked whether there had been any news from the police.

  ‘Not a word, but I don’t suppose we’ll be left in peace for long.’

  ‘I thought they might be here already. I saw one of their cars outside.’

  ‘Oh, that was just the relief man, taking over guard duty at the summer house. There’s been one poor bloke out there all night, I can’t imagine why. Anyone would think they expected the murderer to come creeping back to see if he’d left his hat and gloves behind.’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ Robin remarked, ‘Although, if anyone had done that, Tessa would probably have taken it as proof of his innocence.’

  ‘Too true!’ I agreed, thinking of Jimmie and his bloodstained shirt. ‘Tell us about Verity, though. Had you known her long?’

  ‘No, never set eyes on her until a few months ago, when she came for the interview.’

  ‘For the job?’

  ‘Yes, we’d advertised for a receptionist. Not a permanency, just for the season. We got quite a stack of answers, as a matter of fact, but most of the applicants were students, looking for free board and lodging during the summer vacation. That wasn’t any use to us and you could tell straight off that they weren’t a scrap interested in the job. Verity was the only one who showed the right attitude. She’d had no training, but she was willing to take on any old job that came up. She had the right sort of background too. You know, used to horses and knew how to talk to people and all that.’

  ‘Did she have any family?’

  ‘Of a sort. They’re obviously well heeled, but they didn’t have much time for her. She was brought up by nannies and governesses and what not. Then, when she was about twelve, her parents divorced and she was packed off to some posh boarding school. Two or three years later they both re-married and her mother went to live in Canada. By the time Verity was grown up she’d acquired quite a collection of half brothers and sisters, so she’d always been odd man out.’

  ‘But she still had part of her family in this country? Do they live anywhere near?’

  ‘Oh Lord, no, Yorkshire. That was the first thing the police wanted to know and luckily I’d kept the letter she wrote when she applied for the job, so I was able to give them her father’s address.’

  ‘So why did she choose to come and work down here? Was it simply because it was so far from Yorkshire?’

  ‘I think one reason was because quite often, during the school holidays, she’d been shunted off to stay with her grandmother in Bath. All that came to an end two or three years ago, when the grandmother died, but Verity told me once that those visits were the happiest times of her life and she’d made one or two friends there. So I suppose that was the attraction. And now I’d better get a move on, if you’ve got everything you need?’

  ‘Yes, of course, you must have a hell of a lot to do?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not so bad. All our lot will be at the races and we’re closed to non-residents until further notice, so no lunch to worry about. Still, there’s always plenty to see to in this job, so I must press on. If I don’t see you, have a good day!’

  ‘It’s curious, isn’t it,’ I said to Robin, ‘how this phrase “two or three years” keeps cropping up? Had you noticed?’

  ‘Not particularly. I know of one incident that occurred two or three years ago and it’s been haunting us ever since we arrived here. Have there been others?’

  ‘Several. Jake said it wa
s two or three years ago that he and Louisa branched out and took over Mattingly Grange. And Toby, as you’ll recall, reminded us that it was two or three years ago that Anthony inherited his money. It must have been at about the same time as the Fellowes retired and now we hear that two or three years ago Verity stopped coming to Bath. I don’t suppose it means anything, but the coincidence keeps piling up and the annoying thing is that I have a vague recollection of someone else using the same phrase, in yet another context, only I can’t remember who it was.’

  ‘I suppose we’ve been led down so many new paths during this so-called holiday that it’s difficult to keep track of them all. Yesterday you were getting steamed up over whatever it was you ought to have remembered about the pub where Anthony’s staying.’

  ‘The Weston Arms. No, that’s ceased to be a problem. I have remembered.’

  ‘So at least you’ve got that one tidied up and in its right place?’

  ‘Well, not entirely and the reason I haven’t referred to it before is that I didn’t want it to get to Toby’s ears.’

  ‘Whyever not?’

  ‘It puts another black mark against Anthony. The Weston Arms used to belong to Jake and Louisa. Jake mentioned it only a few hours after we arrived here and he told me it was where they first started to build up their reputation for gourmet food. They sold it, two or three years ago, don’t forget, in order to move up the ladder to this place. So, if Anthony chose it out of all the others he could have stayed in, the chances are that he knew it in their day and could well have been there during the race meeting which coincided with Pauline’s murder. How about that?’