by T E Kinsey
‘That he’s done the laundry, cleaned the house, and made you a delicious supper?’
She laughed. ‘Ar, that’d be right. More likely I finds him sittin’ in our front parlour suppin’ cider with his mates and complainin’ as how his dinner’s not ready.’
It was my turn to laugh.
‘If I didn’t love the stupid great lump so much, I’d never put up with it,’ she said. ‘He still won’t say how he come to break his leg in the first place, mind. I’ve given up askin’.’
‘I thought you said he did it at work,’ I said. ‘He works on the Lock-Caradine farm, doesn’t he?’
‘It’s just “Lock” now, m’dear. Noah and Audrey got wed.’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I did know that. Sorry.’
‘He works for them some of the time, but he’s doin’ odd jobs for Toby Thompson at the moment. Or he was.’
‘I’m so sorry, you did say. Mr Thompson keeps dairy cattle, doesn’t he? Dangerous things, cows.’ I wasn’t going to make much of it in front of Edna and Miss Jones, but I’m deathly afraid of cows.
‘Trample you to death soon as bat their soppy great eyes at you,’ she confirmed. ‘But they’s pretty much all brought in for the winter by now. No need for him to have anythin’ to do with the cattle. No, I reckon he fell over doin’ sommat foolhardy and he’s too embarrassed to say what ’t is. I’ll get it out of him, mind, you’ll see.’
‘And what of you, young Miss Jones?’ I said, turning to the cook. ‘Are you coping?’
‘I’m copin’ just fine, Miss Armstrong,’ she said. ‘It’s been no trouble feedin’ the guests. They’s got simple tastes. I could stand to be a bit more adventurous, to tell the truth, but I don’t think they’d care for it much.’
‘No, I don’t think they would. And how’s your mother? Is she getting along all right without you?’
‘I know I shouldn’t say it – on account of how it sounds selfish, like – but I’m almost disappointed by how well she’s gettin’ along without me. Part of me sort of hoped she’d be all of a tizzy, like, not havin’ me around to fetch and carry for her, but it’s almost like she don’t need me.’
‘I’m sure she does,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she’s making a special effort to help you in your job. You’ll be back to normal in no time.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘Although if you decides you needs me here a little more even when the guests are gone, I’m not sure I’d say no.’
‘I see. Well, I’ll mention that to Lady Hardcastle, too.’
‘What about you, my lover?’ said Edna. ‘How are you and Lady Hardcastle holdin’ up? Are you any closer to findin’ out who done these terrible things?’
‘Sadly not,’ I said. ‘As usual we’ve got plenty of suspects but no real evidence. We were hoping that Dr Gosling’s post-mortem examinations of the bodies would help but that all keeps getting delayed.’
‘Can they tell much from a dead body, then?’ asked Edna.
‘They can usually find out what caused the person to die,’ I said. ‘Sometimes they can get a clearer idea of when they died, and what happened to them before and after.’
‘After?’ she said. ‘Who’d want to know that?’
‘They can sometimes tell if a body was moved. The way the bruises form is different after death.’
‘Well I never. Who’d ’ave thought that? Did you know that, Miss Jones? Fascinatin’, i’n’t it?’
Miss Jones seemed less comfortable. ‘I dare say,’ she said uneasily. ‘But they knows what happened, don’t they? Mr Newhouse was stabbed through the heart and Miss Selwood was poisoned with an apple. You don’t need to go cuttin’ up no one’s body to know that.’
I decided not to explain how you could find out when Mr Newhouse had been stabbed, and whether that was actually what had killed him or whether he had been killed by other means. The chest wound might have been inflicted after death to throw us off the scent.
And Euphemia, too. What poison was it? And was it really in the apple? Poisoning an apple in a basketful where it could be eaten by anyone seemed like a very poor plan. If it weren’t for the fact that death-by-apple fitted Mr Newhouse’s murder so perfectly – both of them dying the same way as their characters from the moving picture – it could have been that the apple was just a coincidence. Even if it were deliberate, though, there was no telling when and how she had been poisoned without a body to examine. The apple could just be a prop, the body staged – as we suspected Mr Newhouse’s had been – for maximum impact. And we knew that the side door had been unlocked all night, so anyone could have arranged the murderous tableau.
‘Did either of you buy the apples?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Miss Jones. ‘You and me decided there weren’t no point, seein’ as no one was eatin’ ’em.’
‘I remember,’ I said.
‘Weren’t me, neither,’ said Edna. ‘I can’t abide apples. It’s the texture. And that sour taste. They i’n’t right.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘Well, will you excuse me, please, ladies?’ I said. ‘I need to speak to Lady Hardcastle.’
‘Is everythin’ all right?’ said Edna.
‘Fine, I think,’ I said. ‘I won’t forget to mention what we talked about.’
I left them to their work and returned to the dining room, careful to close the door behind me.
‘What’s wrong, dear?’ said Lady Hardcastle as I sat down opposite her.
‘Wrong?’ I said.
‘You closed the door. Always a sign of impending wrong.’
‘Or a draught.’
‘It is a bit nippy,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think it’s draughts. You have something on your mind. It’s a tiny head, but a mighty mind. Tell Emily all. Get it off your chest.’
‘Is it on my mind or my chest?’ I said.
‘For all I know it might be large enough to cover your entire top half.’
‘It’s nothing profound,’ I said. ‘I was just thinking about the apple, that’s all.’
‘What about it?’
‘Well, there’s always the possibility that it might not even have been an apple that killed Euphemia . . .’ I began.
‘Great minds seem to be thinking alike again. I had a similar thought just before you returned.’
‘Are any of the common poisons instantaneous?’ I asked.
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘In high enough doses, potassium cyanide works reasonably swiftly – a minute or so, perhaps – but twenty minutes is more likely. And if it were a high dose, we’d have smelled it. Almonds.’
‘And the others?’
‘As we found once before, they all take a while.’
‘So if she were poisoned, it could have happened, say, at the pub?’ I said.
‘It could, indeed.’
‘I’ll talk to Daisy. She might have seen something.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ she said. ‘She’s flighty, but observant.’
‘She is.’
‘On a more mundane domestic note, is everything in hand in the world of the serfs?’
‘Miss Jones and Edna have everything under control. And stop calling them “the serfs”.’
‘Of course, dear. Whatever you say. And you have my permission to return to the pub and seek information from your pal.’
I turned to leave, but hesitated for a moment. Lady Hardcastle noticed.
‘Is something wrong, dear?’ she asked.
‘Not “wrong” as such,’ I said. ‘But aren’t you even just a little bit worried about this Günther Ehrlichmann business?’
‘I can’t deny that it’s been on my mind, but it’s all so dashed improbable. Impossible, even. Günther Ehrlichmann was shot through the head in front of a very reliable witness: you. He’s dead. Whatever is going on in London, it doesn’t involve him. I shall contact Harry once all this business is over and ask him what on earth he thinks he’s playing at, sending our friends down here with ghost stories.’
‘
But shouldn’t we—’
‘Shouldn’t we what, dear? Barricade the doors against some imagined Teutonic spectre?’
I smiled and took my leave. She was clearly in no mood to be argued with.
I’d been itching to talk to Daisy ever since Wednesday morning, when Mr Newhouse’s body was found. If anyone would know what had gone on in the pub on either night, it would be the World’s Nosiest Barmaid. Especially if that same barmaid were also obsessed with the kinematograph. Frustratingly, though, I’d not yet had an opportunity for even the briefest chat.
It was five o’clock and already quite dark as I walked back around the green. It was none too warm, either, and I was glad of the blast of comparatively hot air as I opened the door to the public bar.
It was a tricky choice. I’d have more of an opportunity for a private chat with Daisy if I went into the snug, but I might run into Orum or Caudle in there. Out here in the public, the fire was bigger and brighter, the babble of conversation louder and more raucous, and the barmaid much busier. She was talking to one of the young farmhands who seemed to spend more time in the pub than in the fields.
I made my way to the bar and leaned across to attract her attention.
She didn’t see me.
I cleared my throat loudly and theatrically. ‘Miss Spratt,’ I said. ‘Might I have a word?’
She turned from the young lad who was chatting her up, her face set in a glare and her lungs already filling in preparation for the rebuke she was about to deliver. And then she saw who had interrupted her flirting.
‘Oh,’ she said as her face brightened into a smile. ‘It’s you. Lovely to see you. How are you holdin’ up? Must have been a shock findin’ Euphemia Selwood like that.’
‘Lovely to see you, too,’ I said. ‘And I’m fine, thank you. It seems to be the way of the world these days. For us, at least.’
‘Trouble does seem to follow you, don’t it?’ she said. ‘Anyway, what can I get you?’
‘I’ll have a brandy, please. And one for yourself.’
‘I’ll have a small cider, if that’s all right. Anything else?’
‘A few moments of your time?’ I said.
She looked over at the handsome young labourer. ‘Oh, go on, then,’ she said after a few moments’ thought. ‘He’ll be back.’
‘Of course he will,’ I said. ‘You’re a barmaid, and your dad’s the local butcher. What more could any young man want?’
‘I gots good looks and charm, an’ all,’ she said, striking a coquettish pose.
‘In abundance. But that’s not what I’m after.’
‘No one ever is,’ she said sadly.
‘Oh, shush. I need your other great skill.’
‘Which is?’
‘You’re . . . observant.’
‘“Nosy”, our ma says.’
‘If I wasn’t trying to butter you up, I would, too. But I need your help and so today you shall be observant; a seer of important things and a source of great knowledge.’
‘As long as I can still be pretty and charmin’, I can be as nosy as you likes,’ she said.
‘You’re a goddess made flesh. And not one of the crusty old ones, either. So? What have you seen?’
‘I seen everythin’,’ she said. ‘I’n’t nothin’ goes on in here as I don’t notice. What do you need?’
‘You were working in here after both kinematograph shows, weren’t you?’ I asked.
‘I was. Old Joe give me a couple of hours off both nights, seein’ as how most of the village was goin’ to be in the hall anyway. So long as I come back when it finished – to take care of the rush, like – he didn’t mind. He’s a good sort, Old Joe.’
‘That he is,’ I agreed. ‘We’re trying to piece the events of both evenings together. Everyone who was anyone seems to have come in here after the shows, so I thought, “Who’s most likely to have seen all the comings and goings? That’ll be my pal Daisy.” So here I am.’
‘You interested in anyone in particular?’ she said, leaning forwards conspiratorially.
‘Aaron Orum,’ I said.
She stood up straight. ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘I’ve never trusted him. You reckon it was him, then?’
‘We reckon we don’t know what he was up to, that’s all. On Tuesday night he says he waited till Cheetham and the others had gone before going over and speaking to Basil Newhouse.’
‘’S right. I seen him come through from the snug just after they left. It was packed in here so we had the door open between the bars. He must ’ave seen ’em leavin’. Been waitin’ for his chance, like.’
‘Did you hear what he said?’
‘Not from over y’ere. It was heavin’, like I said. Our ma would know, mind. She was there moonin’ over Mr Newhouse. Our dad’s been teasin’ her sommat rotten.’
‘Will she be in the shop?’
‘Should be. He’ll be closin’ up soon, but she stays and finishes the books for him so she’ll be there a while. Just bang on the door – they’ll let you in.’
‘Thank you. The next night he says he went up to bed earlier.’
‘He did. Sloped off out the back once Cheetham had gone.’
‘He says he started to go for a walk, but turned back when he fell over a bicycle in the yard.’
‘He’s a liar, then,’ she said confidently. ‘Ain’t never been no bicycles in our yard. I know they’s popular, but I don’t reckon I knows anyone round y’ere who owns a bicycle. Mrs Bland might. Come to think of it, yes, I seen her ridin’ a bicycle round the village. But she never brings it here. Why would she? They only lives round the corner. Not that she ever comes in, mind. Are vicars allowed to drink? I was surprised they was even allowed to get wed, but our ma told me that was just the Catholic ones.’
‘She’s right,’ I said. ‘And I believe there are no restrictions on drinking in moderation.’
‘That’s not what that shower outside the village hall reckons,’ she said. ‘They said we all needed to repent for seein’ the movin’ pictures, and that we was only compoundin’ our sins by finishin’ the evenin’ takin’ strong drink and carousin’ till all hours.’
‘They didn’t join you, then?’ I asked.
She laughed. ‘You’re kiddin’.’
‘I suppose so. I just remembered they were gone by the time we left the village hall on Tuesday. No idea where they went?’
‘They’s all stayin’ at the old Seddon place on the way to Chippin’. Some rich bloke from the city bought it when the Seddons moved out. He’s got somethin’ to do with their group. They all decamps up there of a night-time afore it gets too cold.’
‘Do any of them have a bicycle?’ I asked.
‘Not so far as I’ve seen,’ she said. ‘They just marches on to their charabanc in orderly fashion and clanks off up the road. Don’t seem to need no bicycles.’
‘I wonder what Orum was on about, then.’
‘Just makin’ it up. He wanted to make out he’d had to come straight back in in case anyone saw him goin’ out. Really, he was comin’ over to your house to poison Miss Selwood.’
‘Steady on,’ I said with a laugh. ‘We can’t jump to conclusions. But it does seem like an odd thing to lie about. Makes you wonder what he was really up to.’
‘Murderin’ Miss Selwood,’ she insisted. ‘Like I said.’
‘All right, let’s say he was. Why?’
‘Why do any murderers do what they do?’ she said. ‘They’re mad. No sane person would kill someone.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ I said. ‘Did you notice anything else, though? Any other suspicious goings-on?’
‘I noticed that my best pal and her mistress didn’t bother to come in and see me.’
‘That’s not all that suspicious, though. We often don’t come and see you.’
‘No,’ she said sadly. ‘I know. Oh, tell you what. You mentioned the crowd over by the village hall with their placards and that—’
‘You did.’
&n
bsp; ‘Did I? Well, now I come to think of it, I reckon I saw one of ’em peerin’ in the window Tuesday night. The head bloke.’
‘Hughes?’ I suggested.
‘Is that his name?’ she asked. ‘Him and his wife seem to be in charge.’
‘Yes, that’s Hughes. When was this?’
‘After midnight, I reckon.’
‘We all left the village hall by ten,’ I mused. ‘And they were all gone by then. And if the rest of them went to the old Seddon house in the charabanc, why was Hughes still hanging around in the village? And was he alone?’
‘He’s in it with Orum,’ declared Daisy. ‘They teamed up. Solves both their problems, don’t it? Orum gets rid of his rival and Hughes gets rid of the “pedlars of filth”, or whatever it is he calls ’em.’
‘Maybe,’ I said slowly. ‘Except Cheetham is alive and well, and tucking in to Miss Jones’s finest culinary creations at our house. And the filth is still being peddled. More so than ever now that the story is coming to life in our own village.’
‘Well, I give up, then,’ she said.
The impatient tapping on the bar of an empty tankard made her suddenly aware of her duties.
‘I’d better see to that,’ she said. ‘Sorry, my lover.’ She stopped and turned back towards me. ‘We’re safe, i’n’t we?’
‘Safe?’ I said.
‘From murder. There’s two down and no one knows who’s responsible. Any of us could be next.’
‘Miss Jones said much the same thing a little while ago. It seems to be connected to the moving picture, though. I think you’re fine.’
She pursed her lips pensively. ‘’Cept we’ve all been in a movin’ picture now your mistress has been out with her camera,’ she said.
‘Yes, Miss Jones made that observation as well. But, really, I think we’re all fine.’
‘You might be,’ she said. ‘You and your Oriental fisticuffs and whatnot would be safe from anyone. But what about the rest of us?’
‘Go and serve your customer,’ I said. ‘I’m off to see your mother.’
I left her to the attentions of the handsome farmhand and his empty glass.