Chapter 30
Jen went to the police station in a separate car from Callum. As she was driven out through the gateway, the flashes from the photographers gathered just outside the gate, made her put her hands up protectively. Would she be in the newspapers tomorrow, she wondered? Then as the car sped along through the countryside, she had an odd feeling as if everything behind her was being cleared up like a film set no longer needed. If she looked back, Wilkington Hall be would folding down like a gigantic cardboard cut out. Once they had got past the village, that too would fold down until needed again.
And now the police station was being erected just before they got there. The car drew up and the driver directed Jen where to go. She spent some time in the reception area before being taken through to a small room where a police constable took notes.
Sergeant Wolf made a brief appearance in the room and Jen took the opportunity to ask him about Callum.
‘Why did you have your eye on him?’
Sergeant Wolf eyed her. Because there’s been a string of thefts around the country, all with the same method. A man takes up a job with a wealthy family as a chauffeur, works there for a while and then, lo and behold, something valuable goes missing at the same time he does.’
‘Always a Scottish man?’
‘Oh no, he’s too clever for that. Always with a different accent. But it’s our man all right.’
He left the room.
Her time at the station was made longer because Inspector Brighton had issued instructions that he wanted Jen to answer exactly when the necklace had appeared in Etta’s jewellery box.
When at last she emerged and was driven back, she was hungry. They had, at least, given her a cup of tea. She hoped that she would not be too late for lunch even if she would be the centre of attention again.
The servants were in the middle of lunch when Jen walked in. Conversation stopped for a moment and then rose up again.
‘Gladys, fetch Miss James a bowl of rabbit stew,’ Mrs. Butler ordered.
Jen slid in next to Solomon Taylor.
‘So the police wanted to see you again, Miss James,’ said Mrs. Wagstaff.
‘That’s right.’
‘What about?’ asked Mr. Cook.
Jen regarded him. ‘I’m sure you know that they’ve arrested Callum.’
‘They’ve actually arrested him?’ asked Mrs. Butler.
‘Yes.’
‘What for?’
‘He was digging up another diamond necklace.’
Jen saw Mr. Cook convulsively tighten his hand on his glass. The glass broken and water cascaded over his bowl and over him.
‘Mr. Cook!’ exclaimed Mrs. Butler, indignant of the abuse of her food. She jerked her head at Gladys, the kitchen maid.
Kate leapt to get a cloth to give to him and Gladys took away the bowl and replaced it with another steaming one. Why had Mr. Cook reacted so violently, Jen wondered. She looked round the table. Nearly everyone had their heads down, absorbed in finishing their lunch but Solomon was gazing thoughtfully at Mr. Cook and Kate, his niece, was staring down at her bowl, her face pale.
This diversion over, the conversation returned to Callum Fraser.
‘I’m not surprised,’ Mr. Cook said, ‘he showed a lamentable lack of respect for order and propriety.’
‘And godless,’ added Miss Potter.
Jen found herself wanting to defend Callum but he had been caught red-handed with the necklace.
‘How did you come to see him?’ Mrs. Wagstaff suddenly asked.
‘I followed him,’ Jen admitted. ‘I thought he was behaving suspiciously.’
‘And the police followed you because they think you’re behaving suspiciously?’ Kate asked.
‘No,’ Jen said, annoyed and hearing the note of irritation in her voice, ‘the police already had their eye on him.’
‘Why?’
‘Apparently he fits the description of a jewel thief that’s carried out a string of thefts from wealthy families.’
There was a general outcry at this. Jen ate her stew, she was none too fond of rabbit, too many small bones but she made do.
As she ate, her thoughts turned to Miss Potter. She was fairly sure that it was Miss Potter who had told the police about Stewart Grenadier and it had piqued her curiousity about the woman. She decided to pay her a visit in her room in the afternoon, when she would be getting ready for dinner and try to discover more about her.
Jen knocked on the door to Miss Potter’s attic bedroom.
‘Come in,’ called her voice, sounding surprised.
Jen came in. ‘I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you, Cynthia but I just wanted to keep that you were ok. You seemed quite upset by Mr. Fraser before and I’m sure that a sensitive person like yourself must have been very disturbed finding Mrs. Spinoza’s body.’
Miss Potter sniffed. Have she never heard of blowing her nose? Jen was tempted to offer her handkerchief but managed to stop herself.
‘That’s very kind of you, Miss James. Mrs. Wagstaff was very good to me when it first happened but they seem to have forgotten all about me since the death of that reprobate. It’s very distressing, staying at a house full of people with low morals.’
Jen seized her chance. ‘Couldn’t you go and stay with relatives? A brother or a sister perhaps?’
Miss Potter’s gaze flew to a small, silver frame standing on the chair by her narrow bed. ‘I don’t have any sisters and my only brother was taken from me at an early age.’
Jen walked over to the chair. ‘May I?’ she asked, her hand hovering over the photo frame.
‘Yes, you may look at it.’
Jen picked the photo frame up and looked at the photo. It showed a little boy, perhaps three or four and an older girl of about ten. The thin girl was wearing a pinafore and dress and the boy, shirt and shorts.
‘Is that your brother?’
‘Yes, that was my brother Larry. It was taken just before he was taken from me. The only person who ever loved me.’
‘What did he die of?’ Jen asked, racking her brains for common diseases of the late Victorian age. ‘Tuberculosis, polio, measles?’
Miss Potter didn’t answer and Jen realised that she had been insensitive.
‘I’m sorry, Cynthia, if I’ve brought up painful memories.’
Miss Potter turned and hid her face. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Why don’t you ask Inspector Brighton if you can leave? You haven’t got anything to do with the theft of the diamond necklace?’
‘He’s told me I have to stay for the inquest. And Mr. Spinoza has kindly offered to pay my wages until then. He said I could help pack up his wife’s clothes and so on.’
‘Mr. Spinoza is a good employer.’
‘Yes, he is and a good man.’
That did not tally with what Jen had heard about him but who was she to disabuse Miss Potter of this notion.
‘It must hard been hard for a woman of your high moral standards to witness the goings on in that household.’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘I know you were going to get a bonus but weren’t you tempted to leave?’
‘Not mere worldly considerations prevented me from going; I had hoped to set Mrs. Spinoza a good example and help her to see the error of her ways. Sadly, I had no effect on her and her wantonness.’
‘That’s very noble of you, Cynthia.’
‘I was merely doing my Christian duty.’
‘So you did know about Mrs. Spinoza carrying on with two men at the same time?’
Miss Potter turned a cold gaze on Jen. ‘I don’t wish to discuss this any further. Perhaps you should leave.’
‘I apologise if I have offended you. Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Potter?’
‘You can pray for me. Do you believe in a higher power, Miss James?’
‘I’m beginning to,’ Jen said honestly. She had always been an agnostic but the events since
the crash were starting to make her wonder about the powers in the universe.
‘Then, there’s hope for you get to see the light.’ Miss Potter sniffed yet again. ‘Unlike that heathen, Fraser. I, for one, am not at all surprised that he is a criminal.’
‘But I don’t think he’s a murderer. Stewart Grenadier is much more likely to be the culprit, don’t you think?’ Jen argued. ‘And at least Callum didn’t plant a necklace in Etta, Hetty’s jewellery box.’
‘You’re very loyal to your lady, aren’t you? Stewart Grenadier is another sinner. I knew it would be him that put the necklace there.’
‘Did you actually see him do it?’
Miss Potter eyed her. ‘That’s none of your business, is it? Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.’
Jen had no choice but to go.
Jen and Etta caught up before dinner. Jen told Etta about her conversation with Miss Potter and Etta told Jen what Miss Mittens had told her about Sir James.
Jen whistled. ‘Blimey, there’s a lot going on here, isn’t there?’
Murder and Mittens Page 30