Chapter Eleven
Never a beauty, Delia Falkner was, compared with her generously constructed sisters, somewhat gaunt and angular and beginning, Felix decided, the long slide into old age. If the piano-top photos were anything to go by, she of all of them most closely featured her mother. ‘I understand you’re the cook of the household,’ he said. ‘Is that from choice or necessity?’
‘Bit of each really,’ shrugged Delia. ‘I’m happier doing that than farm work; though I also look after the fowls.’
‘That must keep you busy?’
‘Yes, but I like to be busy.’
‘So, let me see. You are the eldest by two years. Does that buy you any privileges? Do the others defer to you at all?’
‘Heavens no!’ said Delia. ‘Well . . .’ She paused to consider. ‘I suppose they do take notice if I don’t agree with them, but they certainly don’t defer to me as you put it. There was only ever one boss in this house, and that was Mother.’
‘Do you miss her?’
Delia nodded dolefully. ‘Yes, I do. She did care about us, you know, and meant well.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes, I do miss her.’
‘More, perhaps, than your siblings?’ said Felix, handing her a handkerchief.
‘Thank you, Mr Felix.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We’re all different, aren’t we? I just can’t imagine life without her. Not yet anyway.’
‘Your sister Rosie thinks you’ll be better off for it.’
‘I know she does. They all do, I think.’
‘But not you?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I suppose I do. I keep reminding myself that she mightn’t have lasted much longer anyway. But it was such a cruel way to die, and she was our mum!’
‘Any idea who might have done this terrible thing?’
‘No, I haven’t. I don’t even want to think about it. I cannot believe, it was any of my sisters. And not Alf Brown either. I’ve known him since we were children together and he’s such a kindly man. It can’t be him.’ She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I’m not being very brave, am I?’
‘I’m not expecting you to be brave, Miss Falkner. I wonder –perhaps you’re not the person to ask – but had your mother always been a difficult person, or did something happen to make her so? You were fourteen when your father died, so you must remember him quite well. Did he and your mother get on?’
Delia shook her head miserably. ‘They were chalk and cheese, always fighting, and he drank. I don’t remember her being much different. She was all right as long as she got her own way.’
‘Did you love your father?’
‘Why, yes. Of course.’
Felix nodded. ‘It occurs to me to wonder, Miss Falkner, whether you or any of your sisters gave chocolates as Christmas presents. Can you remember?’
‘I didn’t myself,’ said Delia. ‘I made little boxes and filled them with homemade shortbread and gingerbread men for the children. I don’t think the others did either. We haven’t much money, you know.’ She paused. ‘That is to say, we weren’t allowed much — for ourselves.’
‘And are you aware of who did give your mother chocolates?’
Delia appeared to consider this. ‘No, I’m not. I’ve no idea. But someone must have, mustn’t they? That would be important, wouldn’t it? So obvious too.’
‘Yes, it would. And coming back to Alf Brown. What is your view of his engagement to Mrs Gray?’
Delia hesitated, looking surprised. ‘I suppose I’m pleased for them. Why?’
‘You’re not jealous?’
‘Me? No. Not in the least.’
‘Might any of your sisters be?’
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them. If he’d wanted any of us, he’s had enough years to say so, goodness knows.’
‘What do you think of Mrs Gray?’
‘I like her well enough, what I’ve seen of her. She seems quite nice really.’
‘Crocodile tears?’ suggested Felix, when she’d gone.
‘You once told me they can be both genuine and feigned,’ Rattigan reminded him, ‘when discussing a certain Miss Harrison, if my memory serves me right.’
‘Oh yes, so I did,’ admitted Felix. ‘Then I should take my own advice.’ He paused in reverie. ‘Extraordinary to think that was only two and a half years ago.’
‘Regrets?’
‘Lord no! Not for a second.’
‘What about Lady George?’
Felix looked surprised. ‘Was it that obvious? I’ll admit she gave me a few sleepless nights.’
‘I’ll tell you what, though,’ said Rattigan, ‘she was nervous, and maybe fibbing about some things. I don’t believe she loved her father for a start.’
‘No, I wondered about that. Or she may simply never have thought about it. I think she’s probably a nervy person normally, so it’s hard to tell.’
‘Not terribly bright?’
‘Again, it’s hard to tell.’
◆◆◆
‘Sorry to keep you, Chief Inspector, said Beatrice, ‘I was doing the pigs. I’m fitting you between them and second milking.’
‘Good to see you have your priorities right, Miss Falkner,’ smiled Felix. ‘Do sit down. Which do you prefer, the pigs or the cows?’
‘Oh, the milking. They so obviously appreciate it and I don’t have to think what I’m doing. I can think about something else entirely. Not that that’s any pleasure at the moment.’
‘How did you get on with your mother? Your sisters had a rather ambiguous attitude towards her, I find.’
Beatrice was silent for a moment. ‘My mother was a difficult woman, Chief Inspector, as they’ve no doubt told you, and the older she got, the worse she became. I was probably the most critical of her, latterly. The others know that but I don’t suppose they’ll say so, in case you get suspicious of me.’
Felix smiled again. ‘What form did this difficultness take exactly?’
‘She was a tyrant —overbearing, arbitrary and cared nothing for our privacy or our feelings. That do?’
‘Did you love her, Miss Falkner?’
Beatrice sighed and shook her head. ‘A grudging yes to that, I suppose. You only have the one, don’t you? And no, I didn’t poison her. You won’t pin it on me, mister.’
‘You read?’
‘When I can get hold of anything, yes. We all read each other’s books, even the ones we don’t like very much. I can’t afford the fare to town as it all goes on sheet music, but I share a Boots’ library ticket with Alice Craddock at the Sheep’s Head. We have the same low tastes, fortunately.’
‘Mrs Craddock is a friend?’
‘Well, we’re friendly. Mother didn’t approve — the association with alcohol, you know. She didn’t approve of anyone really. The one person she tolerated, strangely, and certainly the only male, was Alf Brown; although he does supply a good part of our income, which might explain it. And Walter Bartlett, I suppose, but he’s family.’
‘Sounds as though it’s a relief to you that she’s gone.’
‘Yes, it is, frankly. Not to say I approve of murder. Obviously, I don’t. And now I have to worry about someone in the family being accused of it, though I can’t imagine who it could be.’
‘Are you very close to your sisters?’
‘Yes, I am. We all are. We’re all we’ve got.’
‘Were none of you tempted to clear off? It doesn’t seem to have been much fun, living here.’
‘No, it wasn’t. We used to talk about it, but where would one go? If I had to be someone’s slave, like a governess or a housekeeper or something, I’d sooner have done it in my own home. I think the others felt the same. Also, I quite like farming. It’s all I know.’
‘May I ask what you gave your mother for Christmas?’
‘Not chocolates. Lavender-bags – they all got those – and hankies. She did rather well for hankies; the children gave her some as well, but I’d embroidered mine with her initials.’
‘Were you aware of her getting any chocolates at all?’
‘No, I don’t believe I was; though I don’t know what people like Florence Gray might have given her. They were all over the place, you know. It might not even have been Mother’s own she was handing out. That’s worrying isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is, but we’re working on that. Tell me, what was your view of Alf Brown and Mrs Gray getting engaged?’
Beatrice put a hand to her breast. ‘Goodness! You do jump about, don’t you? I was cross, if you want to know, especially how they sprung it on us. I’d been rather hoping he’d ask me. At the same time, I knew it was hopeless. If he was going to do that, he’d have done it long ago. We quite like her now we’ve got to know her but we don’t think she loves him. Not that she’s obliged to, I suppose.’
‘Oh? Whom does she love then?’
‘Who is to say she loves anybody?’
‘Observations?’ said Felix.
‘Same as you, probably,’ said Rattigan. ‘Attractive personality; intelligent. There’s something about her though. I’d say she bears watching, not that the other two don’t. Doesn’t like Mrs Gray, for all she says she does.’
‘No, she doesn’t. She had to say she did, of course, because she’ll have guessed we’d be looking for jealousy. If she did it, she’s a cool one, I’ll say that.’
◆◆◆
‘This must be very worrying for you, Mr Falkner?’ said Felix sympathetically.
Harry took the proffered cigarette and nodded. ‘It’s a waking nightmare, Chief Inspector. My sisters are capable, sensible ladies but I naturally feel a responsibility towards them. I’m thoroughly torn between them and my own family and business.’
‘Have they actually turned to you for support?’
Harry smiled. ‘Er, no. I can’t say that they have, not as such. However, they must feel the finger of suspicion pointing at them and that worries me.’
‘Because of your mother’s character and how she treated them?’
‘Yes. However, they’re by no means young and have managed to put up with her all their lives. Why, I ask myself, would any of them take it into her head to murder her now, and with a house-full of other people as well? It makes no sense.’
‘There was the business of Albert Little, at dinner.’
‘Yes, but it was wholly in character, you know – I mean, to throw it in Alison’s face like that – and she would probably have expected something of the sort. I can’t imagine her rushing off and poisoning a box of chocolates on the strength of it. I’d begun to wonder if she’d mellowed since her accident, but that was classic Mother.’
‘She didn’t want her daughters to marry?’
‘I don’t think she did. As far as she was concerned, all men were brutes and not to be trusted.’
‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Not me, no, but she made no bones about it with the others. We weren’t close, I’m afraid, and she never had much to say to me on my own. That said, she was never cruel to any of us or neglectful, except of our feelings. Not that I can remember anyway.’
‘Would you describe her as a loving mother, then?’
Harry pulled a face. ‘Dour and undemonstrative, is how my wife once put it, though I suppose she might have been loving underneath. We lived here for a while, you know, when we were first married. Not a happy time. Have you learned about my father?’
‘Yes, I have. I agree with your assessment of your sisters, those I’ve seen. Rosie, for example, strikes one as tough enough to cope with anything. Redoubtable springs to mind.’
‘Yes, Rosie has always been our rock. And of all of them I think she cared most for Mother. I was especially struck by how she looked after her latterly; almost as if they’d swapped places. One hopes she’ll continue to look after the rest of them.’
‘She’s the peacemaker, one imagines.’
Harry waggled his head. ‘Perhaps. When it comes to pouring oil on troubled waters, I’d nominate Delia. I suppose it comes from being the eldest. She gives the impression of being a little slow but that’s just her manner. She’s quiet but sensible. In fact, they all fit together rather well, I’ve always thought. Different strengths and so on.’
‘But not you?’
‘Not me, no. I couldn’t stick it and was glad to get out. It was better once I had a life of my own. Mother didn’t trouble herself about me marrying, although I don’t think she liked Helen very much; probably because she did what she liked and wouldn’t take orders. She tended to just ignore her; and Ethel too, come to that, though she was thoroughly spoiled by the others.’
‘Do you see them much now?’
‘Two or three times a year. It’s a long way from London but we come up when we can, though we’ve only brought the kids a couple of times. It was nice to see my sisters with them, now they’re older.’
‘What about the others in the house? Any thoughts on them?’
‘Suspicions, do you mean?’ Not at all. Alf Brown is the salt of the earth, and where would be his motive? Besides which, he ate a chocolate from the box. I can’t think why Mother picked on him. Mrs Gray scarcely knew her and would hardly have risked poisoning her own fiancée. Again, with Cousin Walter, where is the motive? He’s a respectable businessman and comes for Christmas every year. Ditto Charles, of course, to whom we’ve rather taken.’
‘So has your eldest, it seems,’ smiled Felix. ‘She insisted she wanted him back in one piece. Cramped our style considerably.’
Harry chuckled politely. ‘Yes, they’ve become inseparable. Whenever one sees them, they’re wrapped around each other.’
‘Any objection to that?’
‘None at all. He’s a nice chap and Helen rather fancies having a doctor as a son-in-law.’ He sighed. ‘In fact, who the hell can it be? I wondered about it being meant for someone else, as I’m sure you have, but it doesn’t help. It’s the same people, after all, and I can’t see any of them committing murder, especially not in cold blood. Then I thought about an outsider, perhaps some madman. The place was awash with chocolates unfortunately, from all points of the compass. Our own contribution came from our shop, two boxes, which worries me. I was wondering, would it be a good idea for your London chaps to gather up the rest of our stock and analyse them? It would set my mind at rest on that at least. I can telephone to warn Mother-in-law.’
‘I think that would be a good idea, Mr Falkner,’ said Felix. ‘I’ll put it in hand. Talking of which, whom did you give yours to?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Not my mother. She wasn’t that keen on them, as a matter of fact. I was a little surprised to see that she had some. Nor did I see her with them before Boxing Day, that I can remember anyway, although they might have been by her chair, I suppose. Her table sits a little below the arm, so one might not notice. We gave her a nice blouse and a silk scarf, as it happens, which she’d probably have put away and never worn, as usual. It was Rosie, I think, we gave chocolates to, but we gave each of my sisters something different in the sweet line, on the assumption that they’d share them around.’
‘Who got the other one?’
Harry considered for a moment. ‘Not sure. Oh yes, Florence Gray. We weren’t expecting her, of course, and that was a spare. But everyone was handing them out, you know, and we all ended up eating some or passing the box around.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Don’t jump,’ said Felix.
Beatrice Falkner, at her milking, looked up and smiled. ‘It’s all right, Chief Inspector, we knew you were here.’
‘We?’
She gestured at the peacefully eating cows. ‘Me and the ladies. Did you want me again?’
‘No, I actually wanted directions to Jeremy Bates’s cottage, where I understand I’ll find your sister Alison and Mr Little.’
‘Yes, they’re still there I expect. Turn left out of here and there’s a big, black shed facing you. Go behind it and you’ll see three little cottages. It’s the nearest one. It’s a disgrace really and we’ll need to do something about it.’
‘Thank you.’ He stood back with his hands in his pockets and watched her for a while. ‘I suppose you’d already become used to not having your mother’s help, after her accident. Not quite the blow it might have been.’
Beatrice pulled a face and shrugged. ‘She didn’t do all that much really. Too busy plotting and planning to get her hands dirty.’ She stopped for a moment to change teats. ‘Everything had to be done by the book, you see. Her book, that is. And she was getting on, of course, and slowing down. There were a few things she insisted on doing herself, like dishing out the feed ration. We weren’t supposed to be sensible enough for that. Mostly she just gave us her orders. Do this, do that. Initiative not required.’
‘Is that how she slipped and fell — acting the quartermaster?’
‘Yes. She was getting a bit tottery but she wouldn’t let anyone else up there. If she turned around quick, she’d often come over giddy and have to reach out and grab something. I think it was more likely that than the ice. It never gets that icy up there.’
‘Difficult isn’t it?’ commiserated Felix. ‘Getting them to ease off.’
‘You have parents alive?’
‘Yes, similar age.’ He patted the cow on her flank. ‘Nice to have met you, miss er . . .’ he glanced at the hand-painted name over the stall, ‘Primrose, is it?’
‘Moo,’ said Beatrice, answering for her.
The front door of Jeremy’s tiny cottage was so low that he wondered about the most dignified way of passing through it. His knock produced a couple of nominal woofs and the elderly and weather-beaten figure of Jeremy Bates, accompanied by two collie dogs. ‘Go and lie down,’ he commanded, ‘you’m clutterin’ the place up. Come in, sir, but mind yur yud.’
Death Among the Kisses (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 10) Page 8