01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (24 page)

‘I meant, Inspector that I had made up my mind to marry Miss Simpson and
had no intention of listening to my mother’s arguments on the matter.’

‘Is that what she wanted to talk to you about yesterday afternoon?’

‘Yes, she called us all in to see her one by one, me, Lavinia and
Sneddon, although why she wanted to speak to him, I can’t imagine, unless she
wanted to find out his intentions towards my sister.’

‘Was there anything she could do to stop you marrying Miss Simpson?’

‘No, I don’t think I was about to be disinherited, if that’s what you
think; my father would never have stood for that. But my mother could have made
things pretty awkward, particularly for Miss Simpson. She had a great knack for
humiliating people and making them feel inadequate. She regarded me as her
golden boy and had great plans for me. And, of course, Miss Simpson didn’t
feature in those plans.’

‘Were you aware that your mother intended on going for a walk with Miss
Simpson this morning to warn her off, so to speak?’

‘No, of course not,’ Cedric looked slightly uncomfortable. Deacon looked
up and caught his sergeant’s eye. Good, he had not imagined it, there had been
the briefest of pauses before Lord Sedgwick had uttered his denial and Lane had
picked up on it too.

‘Do you really think, Inspector, that if I had any idea that my mother
intended interrogating poor Miss Simpson in such a way I would just have stood
back and let her get on with it?’

‘No, I don’t, my lord. I think you would have tried to put a stop to it.’
Cedric looked the inspector in the eye for a few seconds before he looked away.
Deacon noticed that the young man had the grace to blush slightly. He’s not
used to lying, he thought, I hope he doesn’t play poker.

‘According to Miss Simpson, your mother spoke to her very loudly last
night after dinner about going for a walk this morning. She was quite sure that
your mother must have been overheard by a lot of the people present. In fact
she thought that was her intention. But you say that you didn’t overhear her
yourself?’

‘No I didn’t, Inspector, I can’t have been standing near her at the
time.’ Strange, Deacon thought, he could have sworn the young man was speaking
the truth. But if he didn’t hear about the walk then, then when did he? 

‘You didn’t go down to breakfast this morning?’

‘No. I breakfasted in my room and then, as I told you, I went to speak to
Lord Sneddon about his leaving.’ Cedric looked slightly shameful. ‘If you must
know, Inspector, I wanted to see Hugh’s face. I punched him rather hard last
night. It occurred to me this morning that I might even have broken his nose.’

‘And had you?’

‘No, although you’ll see his face is quite badly bruised.’

‘Well, it sounds to me that it’s no more than he deserved, my lord, and
I’m sure that you’ll have gone up in Miss Simpson’s estimations. Right, just
one last question if you please; can you think of anyone that might have wished
your mother ill?’

‘No, I can’t, Inspector. I may not have got on that well with my mother,
or even liked her that much as a person, but she certainly didn’t deserve to
die the way she did, and I can’t imagine that there’s anyone who can think she
did. Please, inspector, I beg you. Find out who murdered my mother, I want them
to pay for their crime.’

‘Don’t worry, my lord,’ Deacon said, ‘we will, I assure you.’

‘Well, Lane,’ said Deacon, as soon as the door had closed behind Viscount
Sedgwick, ‘what do you reckon? Is Lord Sedgwick our man?’

‘I wouldn’t say so, sir,’ said the sergeant, getting up from his seat to
stretch his legs. ‘Seems like a thoroughly nice chap to me, not the sort of
person at all to bump off his mother, I’d say. He obviously didn’t like the
woman, but we’ve yet to find anyone who did. It seems to me though, that he
didn’t even have much motive. Lady Belvedere couldn’t stop him from marrying
Miss Simpson and she must have known that when he inherited the earldom, if she
was still alive, she would be dependent on his generosity. It seems to me that,
although she huffed and puffed a bit about it, there was nothing she could
actually do.’

‘You’re right, of course, Lane, but Lord Sedgwick may have been worried
about what she might say to Miss Simpson. It seems to me that the countess
would not be above using a little emotional blackmail and he might have been
worried that she would play on Miss Simpson’s feelings for him. You know, say
what a social disaster it would be for him to marry her and did she really feel
so little for him that she was prepared to stand by and watch him ruin his life
over her. I think he would have been concerned that his mother would change
Miss Simpson’s mind, that she would make her feel that the only right thing to
do was to end all contact with him.’

‘You may be right, sir,’ said Lane. ‘Although I don’t think Miss Simpson
would have been so easily swayed by what Lady Belvedere said.’

‘No, but Lord Sedgwick was not to know that, was he? And there is
something else that is worrying me, Sergeant.’

‘What’s that, sir?’ enquired Lane, looking interested.

‘He lied to us, Lane. Deliberately lied to us about not knowing that his
mother had requested that Miss Simpson go on a walk with her this morning. I
believe him when he says that he didn’t know anything about it last night,
insomuch as I don’t think he overheard his mother telling her. But that’s what
worries me most, Lane.’

‘How so, sir?’

‘I think he only found out this morning about the walk, and that wouldn’t
have given him much time to stop and think what to do before he did it. He
seems to me just the sort of young man who might be persuaded to do something
on impulse and then only afterwards think about the consequences of his
actions. Look how heavily he’s fallen in love with Miss Simpson. He only met
her for the first time two days ago and already he’s set his mind on marrying
her. Suppose he finds out about the walk only when he knows that they’re
already on it. He has no time to waste as far as he’s concerned before his
mother turns Rose against the idea of marrying him. What’s he to do? I doubt
whether he even thinks straight. He goes to Sir William’s study, breaks the
lock on the gun cabinet, snatches the gun and loads it and then sets off.
Perhaps he’s thinking of only giving his mother a shock. He takes aim, probably
at something only a little way from his mother so that he can give her the
necessary fright to put a stop to her conversation with Miss
Simpson.’    

‘So what went wrong, sir? It seems to me that a man like Lord Sedgwick
would be a good shot. He’s probably gone out shooting regularly since he was a
boy. Do you think he may have changed his mind, decided when it came to the
crunch that it might be a good idea to remove his mother from the equation for
good?’

‘No, I don’t, Lane, I think it was a mistake. The moment he raised his
gun to fire, Miss Simpson stumbled and fell. He was distracted for a moment
wondering whether she was alright, but unfortunately he had already pulled the
trigger and so the damage was done.’

‘Yes,’ agreed the sergeant, ‘it could have happened that way.’

‘Lady Lavinia, please sit down. I appreciate this will be something of an
ordeal for you, so I’ll try and keep it as brief as I can. Firstly, can I say
how sorry I am for your loss; it must have been a great shock.’

‘Thank you, Inspector. Yes, it was rather.’ Despite everything, the
awfulness of her mother’s death, the realisation among them all that one of
them must be the murderer, from the moment Cedric had returned to the dining
room and blurted out the news that the gun that had shot their mother had come
from Sir William’s collection, Lavinia could not help but notice how good
looking the inspector was. Not her usual sort of man, of course, but even so
quite handsome, probably due to that air of authority that he had about him
associated with his job. Awful really for her to be thinking like that when her
mother lay cold on a mortuary slab, a bullet through her chest. But there it
was, she couldn’t help it, it must be the shock ….

‘Please sit here, if you will. I only need to ask you a few questions and
then you can go back to your father and brother.’ Deacon had mistaken her
hesitation for confusion arising from deep sorrow and shock; it did not occur
to him for one moment that she might be evaluating his looks. He on the other
hand was appraising her. He had known from the society pages that she would be
a great beauty, but he had not been prepared for how very beautiful she was.
The red rimmed eyes and red nose, outward signs that she had been crying, could
not disguise the fact; if anything they added something, a certain fragility
which was appealing and made her appear less cold and aloof. Even so, it was
not lost on him that not once did she turn to acknowledge the presence of his
sergeant; it was as if the man was invisible or perhaps not important enough to
register.

‘Is what Cedric says correct? That it must be one of us because of Uncle
William’s gun being the murder weapon?’

‘Yes,’ Deacon said, gently, ‘I’m afraid so, it –.’

‘Then it must be Rose.’

‘I beg your pardon, Lady Lavinia?’ The inspector was not often taken
aback by things said by witnesses and suspects, but this was one such occasion.
Even Sergeant Lane had looked up with an appalled expression on his face. It
was not just the words themselves that had shocked them, but the way she had
said it so dismissively and yet with such certainty that her manner demanded no
contradiction.

‘What makes you say that exactly, Lady Lavinia? In our view she is the
only person here who could not possibly be the murderer.’

‘Because she hated my mother, that’s why.’

‘Did she actually say that she hated your mother?’

‘No, of course not, Inspector. She’s not that stupid; she just told me
that she didn’t think my mother liked her very much. And, of course, my mother
didn’t because she saw right through her from the start. I’m afraid I’ve always
been rather a trusting person, Inspector. It’s my greatest flaw. I assumed that
Rose liked me for myself. I never imagined that she had only become my friend
so as to secure herself a decent husband, a man of means and social standing
that she would never have met had it not been for my decision to work in the
same dress shop that she worked in.’

‘You got all this from your mother, Lady Lavinia?’

‘Yes, oh and from Hugh too, Marquis Sneddon, you know. Apparently she
made a play for him once she knew that he was heir to a dukedom. Awfully
embarrassing for him, of course, he didn’t know what to do.’

‘Lord Sneddon told you this?’

‘Yes. He didn’t want to, of course. Not with Rose being my friend, but he
thought it was his duty to. Apparently he told mother as well, that’s what she
asked to see him about when he went to see her yesterday afternoon. She got
wind of it from one of the servants; the servants here are awfully protective of
us, you know, Inspector.’

‘How do you know that’s what your mother wanted to see Lord Sneddon
about?’

‘Hugh told me. He was awfully glum when he came back from seeing Mother,
and I wouldn’t let him be until I’d found out exactly what she had said to him.’

‘I see. But why exactly do you think Miss Simpson would go so far as to
shoot your mother? It seems a very drastic thing to do in the circumstances.’

‘Because she saw my mother as the only thing stopping her from marrying
Cedric, of course. Although hopefully with everything that’s happened my
brother will see sense. She must have known that my mother would never have
stood by and watched Cedric waste his life. And so she got rid of her, just
like that.’ Lavinia’s bottom lip trembled and Deacon was afraid that she was
going to cry, but she managed to pull herself together at the last moment. ‘Oh,
if only Uncle William hadn’t shown us his stupid pistols and Hugh hadn’t asked
where he kept the ammunition, then this might never have happened. Of course,
if my stupid brother hadn’t decided to come down then it wouldn’t have been an
issue anyway. I can’t bear it.’ The tears that had been threatening to fall
exploded, and Lavinia sobbed bitterly, and very beautifully, into a small lace
handkerchief that she held clutched in her hand for the purpose.

The two policemen sat there awkwardly, wondering how long they should
give her to weep before they tried to continue with their questioning, knowing
all the time that each second that passed was precious to the investigation.

‘I don’t wish to trouble you, Lady Lavinia,’ Deacon began attentively, ‘
I can see how distressing this all is for you, but if you could bear with me
just a little longer and answer a couple more questions, then you can go to
your family and hopefully we won’t need to trouble you again.’

‘Very well, Inspector, I’ll do my best,’ Lavinia dabbed at her eyes very
prettily with her handkerchief.

‘Apart from Miss Simpson, is there anyone else that you can think of who
might wish your mother harm?’

‘No, no-one, Inspector. My mother was very well respected. She did a
great deal of charitable work, you know. She could be a bit harsh at times if
things didn’t go her own way, but she always had everyone’s best interests at
heart.’

‘I see. Now, if you wouldn’t mind telling me where you were this morning
between half past nine and half past ten. We’re asking everyone for their
movements, you understand.’

‘Well, I was in bed, Inspector, with a very bad headache. I think it was
all the worry about Rose’s conduct.’

‘Can anyone corroborate that, Lady Lavinia?’

‘Well, I suppose Martha can to an extent, she’s the parlour maid that’s
acting as my lady’s maid while I’m here, Inspector. She brought me in a cup of
tea. Oh, but wait, silly me, that was much earlier, about eight o’clock, I
think. I sent her away then, told her I didn’t want her to run my bath or put
out my clothes until eleven. So no, no I don’t think after all there is anyone
that can vouch for me. Is that a problem, Inspector?’

‘No, not at all, Lady Lavinia. Now, just one final question. Did you know
that your mother intended going on a walk with Miss Simpson this morning?’

‘Yes, of course, I heard her tell Rose last night.’

‘You didn’t consider trying to stop it from taking place?’

‘No, of course not, Inspector, I thought it served Rose jolly well
right.’  

‘Well, she’s a nasty piece of work, and no mistake, sir, notwithstanding
that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,’ said Lane, indignantly, as
soon as the door had closed behind Lavinia. ‘Fancy her saying what she did
about Miss Simpson, and her being her friend as well. Makes you wonder, doesn’t
it, sir, why she ever invited Miss Simpson to spend the weekend with her aunt
and uncle if she thought so little of her.’

‘I think Lady Lavinia’s used to being the centre of attention, Sergeant,
and doesn’t take too kindly to the crown being taken from her,’ said Deacon,
getting up and stretching his legs by pacing the room. ‘She’s remarkably
beautiful and the only daughter of an earl to boot, so there can’t be that many
occasions when she finds herself outshone by someone else and she must find it
particularly galling to be outshone by a shop girl. I imagine she considered
Miss Simpson her own special friend and resents the fact that her friend and
her brother are so obviously besotted with each other. Notwithstanding all her
privileges and accomplishments, I bet Lady Lavinia has got few of what you’d
call true friends and that she considered Miss Simpson to be one.’

‘That’s all very well, sir,’ said Lane, not easily appeased, ‘but it was
awful what she said just now, trying to implicate her friend in her mother’s
murder.’

‘She’s probably afraid of the alternatives, Sergeant.’

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Well, assuming she didn’t do it, unless it was Miss Simpson or Mrs
Torrington, Lady Belvedere’s murderer must either have been one of her own
family or the man Lady Lavinia hopes to marry. Not very palatable alternatives
for the girl to swallow, I think. What do you say to that Lane?’

‘Well, sir. I think as she might have done it,’ answered the Sergeant,
smugly. ‘You’ll agree that there is a possibility that the intended murder
victim was Miss Simpson?’ The inspector nodded. ‘If Lady Lavinia thinks she’s
been used and that Miss Simpson’s been making a pass at her beau and at the
same time she doesn’t want her to marry her brother, well, it stands to reason
that she might fancy taking a pot shot at Miss Simpson herself, either to warn
her off, or to kill her. Well, Lady Lavinia’s own brother let slip as to what a
good shot she is and she admitted herself that she knew Miss Simpson was going
on a walk with her mother. And she’s no alibi to speak of. Let’s suppose that
she had the young lady in her aim, and then Miss Simpson stumbles just as she
pulls the trigger and she kills her mother instead. It would have been an awful
shock for her, and like as not she would have blamed Miss Simpson, so stands to
reason that she’ll want to implicate her somehow.’

‘I like your logic, Lane,’ admitted Deacon, stroking his chin, ‘you may
have something there, although I’d like to keep an open mind for the time
being.’

When Lavinia entered the dining room, she found it difficult not to feel
guilty when she caught Rose’s eye and received a sympathetic smile from her
friend. It really was too bad, all this. She didn’t want Rose to hang for her
mother’s murder, certainly not, but what else could she do but throw suspicion
onto her friend? The alternative was too awful to contemplate. As it was, the
newspapers were already going to have a field day. How much worse would it be
if a member of the aristocracy was accused of the murder? No, she really must
protect
him
. She was sure it was what her mother would have wanted. She
just had to keep her nerve; she was sure that everything would turn out alright
in the end, it had to.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Withers, if you could take a seat just there. Ah,
Sir William, have you something further to add?’

‘I hope you don’t mind if I sit in with my wife, Inspector,’ Sir William
said, rather apologetically. ‘This has all been a dreadful shock for her and my
wife is inclined to be a bit absent minded and vague at the best of times.’

‘Not at all, Sir William,’ replied Deacon, although he would have preferred
to interview Lady Withers without her husband present. ‘I would ask you,
however, if you would be so good as not to interrupt.’

‘Of course, of course, Inspector, I understand fully.’ Sir William seated
himself beside his wife on the settee and patted her hand affectionately.

‘Well I must say, this is jolly exciting, Inspector, I’ve never been
questioned about a murder before,’ said Lady Withers, sitting up straight and
placing her hands primly together in her lap. ‘Obviously, it’s jolly sad and I
would have much preferred to have been interviewed about someone else’s murder
besides my sister’s, well, not yours, of course, darling,’ Lady Withers said,
bestowing on her husband a very bright smile.

‘Do stop rambling, my dear,’ Sir William said, looking embarrassed. ‘The
inspector will think that you didn’t care at all for your sister.’ 

‘Oh, but that’s not true at all. It’s only because I’m still in shock.
I’m sure the inspector understands, he must be used to interviewing people like
me, aren’t you, Inspector.’

‘Indeed, Lady Withers. I appreciate that this will be an ordeal for you,
but if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions. Let’s begin with your
sister’s visit. Am I right in thinking that you weren’t expecting her this
weekend that in fact she invited herself down?’

‘She didn’t exactly invite herself down, Inspector, she just got her
butler to ring up Stafford to announce that she was on her way. Most
inconsiderate, but that was always her way, I’m afraid. For all she knew, we
were going to have a very large house party this weekend, and there wouldn’t
have been room for everyone. She’d probably have sent us down to sleep in the
stables and taken our rooms, don’t you think, William? It’s just the sort of
thing she would have done. Why, when she was staying with Lady –.’

‘My dear, I really don’t think that the inspector is interested in all
that. To answer your question, Inspector, neither my wife nor I were expecting
my sister-in-law and her husband this weekend; it was quite a surprise.’

‘Where were you this morning, Lady Withers, between say half past nine
and half past ten?’

‘I was breakfasting in bed, Inspector. My lady’s maid brought my
breakfast in to me at about twenty past nine, just scrambled egg and marmalade
on toast, you know, but not the same toast you understand for the egg and
marmalade, different slices because really they don’t mix, do they? And then I
had two and a half cups of tea as I always do. And then Crimms ran my bath. It
always takes her a while to get the temperature just right and I must have
splashed around for a little while and then got dressed, at which time I
suppose it must have been a quarter past ten or so. How am I doing, darling?’