03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (18 page)

‘Well,
Lady Lavinia, of course.’

‘Not Miss
Wentmore? You surprise me, Mr Thistlewaite.’

The inspector
spoke slowly, and left the words hanging in the air. There was an uncomfortable
silence which neither man seemed inclined to break. Inspector Bramwell did not
let his gaze falter. Felix meanwhile blushed and was looking everywhere but at the
inspector’s face.

‘I take
it from that, Inspector, that you are aware that I have formed an attachment to
Miss Wentmore,’ Felix said at last. ‘But my reasons for suggesting that you
interview Lady Lavinia first have nothing to do with that. She was the first
person to come upon the body, hadn’t you heard?’

‘Indeed I
had, thank you, Mr Thistlewaite. The local constable who was first at the scene
was most diligent and informed me of that fact. No, I was rather surprised that
you didn’t mention Miss Wentmore seeing that she was Miss Montacute’s friend-cum-companion.’

‘She had
nothing to do with Emmeline’s death,’ Felix said quickly.

‘I’m not
suggesting that she did, Mr Thistlewaite. I merely thought that you would quite
understandably assume that as Miss Wentmore knew Miss Montacute rather better
than anyone else here, well, she might be able to throw some light on why
anyone would wish to kill the young lady.’

‘I think
I see what you’re saying, Inspector,’ Felix said, passing a hand through his
hair. ‘Although I am still a little confused. You still haven’t explained why
you have decided to interview me first.’

‘There’s
no need to fret, Mr Thistlewaite. As to why I have decided to see you before
any of the others, well, that’s easy to explain.’ The inspector paused to
steeple his fingers, and looked at them briefly as if the questions he wished
to ask were written on them. ‘It’s exactly because you are on the periphery of
this inquiry that I’ve decided to interview you first. You are a member of this
house-party but not at its core, so you have been present to witness everything
but unlikely to have had a major role. I’ll wager therefore that you’re likely
to be more objective than the rest. Now, sit down if you will, Mr Thistlewaite,
and paint the scene for me. I’d like to know what it was like here at Sedgwick Court
leading up to the tragedy.’

‘Oh, if
that’s the case, then of course I understand perfectly.’ Felix visibly relaxed
and took the proffered seat, opposite the inspector, sinking back into its deep
velvet upholstery. ‘But I’m not sure I can be of much help. It seemed a pretty
ordinary house-party to me, not that I’ve been to that many. Of course these
surroundings are particularly fine, but the guests alas are quite ordinary,
myself included.’

‘You
surprise me.’ The inspector looked at him quizzically, and Felix at once
appeared flustered again. ‘I wouldn’t have thought there was much that was ordinary
about an heiress and a foreign count, to say nothing about the British
aristocracy. But then again, I can’t say I have frequented many house-parties myself.
Have you, Sergeant?’

‘What I
meant,’ replied Felix, clearly ruffled, ‘is that putting aside rank and
position in society and such like, it was just an ordinary house-party.’

‘An
ordinary house-party where one of the guests was murdered. Hmm … Suppose you
tell us where you were this morning between about four o’clock and say seven
o’clock?’

‘I say,
is that when Emmeline was murdered? I know it might sound rather strange, but
it makes me feel better knowing that she hadn’t lain out there all night.
Frightful too, of course, to think that we were all fast asleep when the deed
was done, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong.’ Felix paused a moment
before going on. ‘So there you have it, Inspector, that’s my alibi, not a very
good one at that. I was in bed at the time, as I am sure everyone else was
except perhaps one or two of the servants. I daresay the scullery maid rises
early to light the stove, doesn’t she? Unfortunately no one can corroborate my
alibi.’

‘Now, Mr
Thistlewaite, you say it was an ordinary house-party. In my experience there’s
no such thing. When you gather a group of people together, particularly people
from different walks of life, so to speak, and confine them in a place where
they have only each other for company, even in a place as grand and beautiful
as this one, then there are sure to be some petty squabbles and disagreements.
Am I right?’

‘I’m
afraid there were a few,’ admitted Felix.

‘Perhaps
you would be so good as to elaborate, sir?’

‘Must I?
It does seem rather a rotten thing to do.’

‘May I
remind you that this is a murder investigation, sir?’

‘Very
well. But if you are looking for a motive as to why anyone would want to murder
Emmeline, I don’t think I can provide you with one.’ Felix sat up in his chair.
‘Now, let me think. I suppose one had better start with the count. An odd sort
of chap, but popular with the ladies, or should I say some of them. I think
both Lady Lavinia and Miss Montacute were rather taken with him. When we were
on the Continent, I had the impression that he was a little more keen on
Emmeline than Lavinia, although he always made a point of being overly charming
to both women.’

‘And this
led to a squabble between the two women here at Sedgwick?’ The inspector sounded
confused.

‘Not
really, no. But it might have put Lady Lavinia’s nose out of joint a bit. One
should probably not speak ill of one’s hostess, not when one is enjoying her
hospitality, but she always strikes me as a woman who is used to being the
centre of attention. Hardly a motive for murder though, Inspector.’

‘I
agree,’ said Inspector Bramwell gravely, ‘particularly when Miss Montacute had
shown a preference for Dr Harrison.’

‘Ah, so
you know all about that too, do you?’ Felix sounded relieved. ‘How well
informed you are, Inspector. I suppose even in the best of houses servants still
gossip. Or perhaps Lord Belvedere told you?’

He waited
a moment or two before going on, but Inspector Bramwell was not forthcoming about
from whom he had obtained his information.        

‘If you
must know, it was dashed awkward for the rest of us,’ said Felix. ‘I mean to
say, the fellow’s fiancée was here, still is, of course. Awfully embarrassing
and upsetting for Miss Brewster. She tried not to let it get to her. She tried
to put a brave face on it. I daresay she thought it was an infatuation that
would fizzle out. Still, jolly humiliating for her.’

‘I see. Do
you think Miss Brewster might have wished to do Miss Montacute harm?’

‘What?
No, of course not!’ Felix jumped up from his seat. ‘What a monstrous suggestion.
You’re putting words into my mouth, Inspector.’

‘Sit down
please, Mr Thistlewaite. We need to investigate all possible motives before we
can eliminate them.’

‘Which is
why I didn’t want to say anything, Inspector. This was what I was afraid of,
that you’d twist my words,’ Felix said, somewhat reluctantly sitting down
again. ‘My opinion, for what it’s worth, is that if Vera had decided to kill
anyone it would have been that cad of a fiancé of hers, Harrison, not poor Emmeline.’

‘Quite so.
Now, let’s move on to when Miss Montacute’s body was discovered. I understand
that Lady Lavinia had gone on ahead to look in the maze for her friend.
According to the constable’s notes, the rest of the party, of which you were
one, followed some three quarters of an hour later and found Lady Lavinia
standing over the body with a candlestick in her hand. Is that right?’

‘Yes,
quite correct.’

‘And
everyone, quite understandably, assumed that Lady Lavinia had done the deed?’

‘Yes. Of
course, thinking about it now, it’s quite ridiculous to think that Lavinia
could have done anything of the kind.’

‘But
understandable given that you didn’t know then that Miss Montacute had been
dead some hours,’ Inspector Bramwell said, briskly. ‘Did Lord Belvedere tamper
with the evidence at the scene?’

‘Inspector!’
The abruptness of the question had caught Felix unawares. He opened his mouth
and then shut it again, reminding the inspector of a fish.

‘It’s a
simple enough question, Mr Thistlewaite. Please answer me yes or no. Did Lord
Belvedere meddle with the evidence?’

‘Why
don’t you ask him?’

‘Because
I’m asking you. Did he, or did he not, tamper with the evidence?’

‘Well,’
Felix sank back into his chair, ‘if you must know, he took the candlestick from
his sister and wiped it. Then he instructed Rose to take Lavinia into the house
to be cleaned up and have her clothes washed.’

‘Did he
indeed?’ The inspector looked at him with interest. ‘I take it no one took it
upon themselves to try and stop him?’

‘I jolly
well did, Inspector,’ said Felix indignantly, ‘but the earl wouldn’t listen to
me, told me to go to the devil, would you believe? There was nothing I could
do. Miss Simpson tried to reason with him too, but he was having none of it.’

‘Didn’t
anyone else try to stop him?’

‘No. I
think everyone else was in shock, or just didn’t think. We were all pretty
shaken up, I don’t mind telling you, seeing Emmeline’s dead body like that and
Lavinia standing over her with that damned candlestick in her hand.’

‘Were you
all there to see that?’

‘Yes,
everyone … oh … wait a minute. I remember now … Vera, Miss Brewster, wasn’t
there. She said she was feeling unwell, so she didn’t join us in the search. I
say, it’s rather funny when one comes to think of it.’

‘Oh, what
is?’ The inspector looked at Felix with renewed interest, and even Sergeant
Lane looked up from his notebook, his pencil hovering above the page like a
wasp.

‘Well,
Vera of course was not too fond of Miss Montacute and she didn’t see her body,
not like the rest of us. She didn’t have to contend with trying to forget that
awful image of Emmeline lying there – ’

‘Yes,
what of it?’

‘Well, Inspector,
when we were making our way back to the house, we saw Miss Simpson in the
distance with Lady Lavinia. She had just discharged her to the care of her
lady’s maid when Vera came running out of the house all hell-for-leather. Of
course we couldn’t hear what she said to Miss Simpson, or Rose to her come to
that, but they must have been talking about the murder, mustn’t they?’

‘One
would think so, yes.’ 

‘Well,
one moment Vera was tugging at Rose’s sleeve, more than likely trying to find
out what had happened, and the next moment she had slumped to the ground in a
dead faint. Odd that, isn’t it?’

‘I
don’t see it as being very odd, sir,’ said Sergeant Lane as soon as Felix
Thistlewaite had left the room. ‘It seems to me quite natural if Miss Brewster
were of a delicate disposition. And even if she wasn’t, mayn’t she have fainted
with relief thinking she’d get the doctor’s affections back on the death of
Miss Montacute?’

‘Possibly,’
said Inspector Bramwell, sounding far from convinced, ‘although fainting with
relief does sound rather fanciful and far-fetched to me. I’m not sure I’ve
known any woman do that. You do realise though, don’t you, that that second
point of yours gives Miss Brewster a damn good motive for this murder?’  

‘I do. Other
than that, Mr Thistlewaite wasn’t very forthcoming, was he, sir? I mean to say,
we already had our suspicions that Lord Belvedere had tampered with the
evidence. If you ask me, sir, the earl would’ve admitted as much if we’d put
the question to him.’

‘I dare
say he would, particularly now he knows Miss Montacute was killed a few hours
before they discovered Lady Lavinia standing over her body. But it doesn’t
alter the fact, Lane, that his lordship did a criminal act in doing what he did.
Now,’ the inspector leaned back in his chair and, as always, the sergeant could
not help wincing at the sound of the springs straining under the policeman’s
weight, ‘to your other point. I happen to think Felix Thistlewaite was very
forthcoming, although of course his intention was to be anything but.’

‘I’m not
sure that I follow you, sir.’

‘He
deliberately threw suspicion on Lady Lavinia who, I think we’ll find, had
little motive for wishing the deceased dead. And then Miss Brewster as soon as
we told him we knew about the attachment that had formed between Dr Harrison
and Miss Montacute.’

‘I still
don’t think I follow you, sir,’ said Sergeant Lane looking distinctly puzzled.

‘Don’t
you, Sergeant?’ Inspector Bramwell frowned at his subordinate, who averted his
gaze and took a sudden interest in the cover of his notebook. ‘Well, Lane, it’s
my view that he implicated Lady Lavinia because he knew we would not be able to
form a case against her, and told us what he did about Miss Brewster because he
was well aware that if he didn’t someone else would. They all saw it after all,
didn’t they, Miss Brewster fainting in rather a spectacular fashion in front of
the house?  It was only a question of time before someone mentioned it.’ 

‘I wonder
whether she said anything before she fainted,’ said Sergeant Lane, looking up
from his notebook.

‘Your
Miss Simpson should be able to tell us that, unless of course,’ the inspector
paused to frown again at the sergeant, who sank back into his chair, ‘she
decides to keep the information to herself. But what interested me, Sergeant, was
that young Mr Thistlewaite seemed to me to be deliberately going out of his way
to divert suspicion away from someone else.’

Manning
had entered the drawing room to supervise the serving of tea and coffee by the
footmen. The man was standing rather awkwardly by the door, in two minds, Rose
thought, as to whether to remain or depart. Rather tentatively he made as if to
go over to Lavinia, as mistress of the house, but she was busy at that moment
having a rather intense conversation with Vera, no doubt telling her in not too
kindly tones to leave Theo to himself. Cedric, Rose noticed, was standing
equally at a loss beside the doctor, supposedly with the intention of trying to
comfort the man, who still looked distraught by what had happened.

She
wondered if Cedric rather regretted having spoken to Theo the previous night
about his conduct. She could not forget that it had been partly at her
instigation that he had done so. The rather unpleasant thought crossed her mind
that it might have played a contributory factor in Emmeline’s death. She stared
at Theo and tried to dismiss the notion from her mind, but it lingered
stubbornly at the fringes of her consciousness. It’s being cooped up in here,
she thought, it’s making me think all sorts of strange, irrational things. More
to stop herself from thinking such thoughts rather than for something else to
do, Rose made her way over to the butler, who looked relieved to see her.

‘Is
anything wrong, Manning?’

‘I don’t
know that it is, miss. Not wrong as such. It’s just that the kitchen were
wondering what to do about luncheon, although it’s rather late for it, I know.
Only it didn’t seem quite right to do anything about it before. His lordship
didn’t think anyone would be hungry, but it’s quite a time that’s elapsed since
breakfast, so it is. Mrs Farrier, she’s the housekeeper, miss, said fine dining
wasn’t the thing at all at a time like this as it could be seen as rather
heartless and how it’s also likely that no one will have much of an appetite.

‘I think
Mrs Farrier is quite right.’

‘But it’s
put Mrs Broughton’s nose out of joint, I can tell you, as she and the kitchen
maid were working at the dishes all morning not knowing anything was wrong
because we tried to keep things quiet like. Of course, I’d ask Mr Torridge what
he thought we should do, as of course he’d know, but he’s having a bit of a nap
and I don’t like to wake him given his age and all. All this has hit him very
bad, miss. A murder in the grounds.’

‘I’m sure
it has, as it has us all,’ said Rose soothingly. ‘I think a little light soup
would be best, perhaps a chicken broth, or suchlike?’

Privately
she thought Manning very talkative for a butler. She doubted very much whether
the revered Torridge would appreciate his deputy advising a guest of all the
various goings on and musings in the servants’ hall. But it also occurred to
her that the butler might prove useful in furthering her investigations into
Emmeline’s death.

‘Manning,
I’m sure you’ve heard already that a candlestick was found in the maze. Lady
Lavinia thought she recognised it. I wondered whether one was missing from the
house. ’

‘Indeed,
miss, as I already told the policemen. It’s one of the candlestick’s from the
sideboard. It was there last night when dinner was cleared and like as not when
I did my rounds, but not this morning, least I don’t think it was. It was one
of a pair and the policemen have taken the other one away to compare it with
the one found, I suppose.’

‘I see.
Thank you, Manning.’

Rose was
vaguely aware that where the butler had been standing was now a space, and that
the man himself had left the room as noiselessly as he had entered it. She
wondered if he had realised the significance of his words.

‘I say,
are you all right?’ Cedric was beside her, his face full of concern. ‘You look
as if you’ve just seen a ghost.’

Rose put
out a hand to him to steady herself. There was something very comforting about
his presence. If only he would not leave her side and they could stroll in the
grounds of Sedgwick arm in arm as they had done before the arrival of Lavinia
and her guests.    

‘Cedric,
it was one of us that murdered Emmeline.’

‘Are you
sure?’ Don’t you think it’s just as likely to have been a failed kidnap
attempt?’ Cedric passed his hand through his hair. His face had gone white.
‘I’ve been rather hoping that all this might not have had anything to do with
Sedgwick, apart from Emmeline’s body being found in the maze, that is …’

‘No, I’m
afraid the weapon was taken from this house. Lavinia thought she recognised it
and Manning’s just confirmed that it was one of the candlesticks from the
sideboard. I remember it now, what it looked like, I mean.’

‘And you
think that proves that whoever murdered Emmeline was someone in this house?’

‘Of
course it does. It can’t mean anything else, Cedric, no matter how much we
might wish it otherwise.’

‘I
suppose no one would think to break into the house and then go to the maze.’ Cedric
sighed. ‘Even if they had, Manning would have told me about it if the servants
had seen any signs of a forced entry.’

‘And
don’t you see, Cedric? Every one of us would have seen the candlestick at each
meal and known where to get it when looking for a weapon.’

‘You’re
quite right of course, I didn’t think of that.’

‘There’s
more, I’m afraid. According to Manning the candlestick was still on the
sideboard when the house was locked up for the night. No one from outside could
have taken it unless they had broken into the house, and we have already
established that did not happen. Besides, the maze is nowhere near the house.
They would have had no reason to come here, unless…’

‘Yes?’
Cedric looked at her hopefully, grasping at anything that might suggest that
the murder had been done by someone outside the house.

‘I was
going to say unless the murderer had arranged with Emmeline to come to the
house and escort her to the maze,’ said Rose. ‘But it doesn’t seem very likely,
does it?’

‘No.’
Cedric shrugged his shoulders and looked despondent.

‘And
another thing.  I don’t think even Lavinia’s guests knew the maze was here
until you mentioned it last night. It’s unlikely anyone else would have known
of its existence unless they’d been here before.’ She looked at him rather
reprovingly. ‘Even I didn’t know about it.’

‘Didn’t
you? Hadn’t I mentioned it to you before? Of course I was going to show it to
you.’ Cedric suddenly paled. ‘I say, what you said just now. You mean if I
hadn’t spoken – ’

‘No,’
said Rose quickly, ‘I think the murder would have happened anyway, only perhaps
not in the maze. I say, I wonder what did make Emmeline decide to go there when
it was still pitch black outside. That’s what we’ve got to find out, Cedric.’

‘Count
Fernand, is it?’

Inspector
Bramwell eyed the newcomer with obvious suspicion. The count had seen fit not
to wear his scarlet waistcoat or full length black cape for the interview, but
there was still an air of flamboyance to both his dress and manner that the inspector
found irritating. What was more, he’d swear the man dyed his hair.

‘Now how
should I address you, sir? Your Illustrious Highness perhaps, or my lord or – ’

‘Sir,
will be perfectly satisfactory, Inspector. In this country I do not consider
myself a princely count. To everyone in this country I am nothing, no more
important than the man who sweeps the street, but in my own country – ’

‘Which
is?’ the inspector interrupted sharply.

‘I beg
your pardon, Inspector?’

Was it
the policeman’s imagination, or did he see a flicker of fear cross the man’s
face?

‘If you
don’t mind my saying, sir, everyone seems to be a little unclear as to which
country you actually come from.’

‘The
country that I come from, Inspector,’ said Count Fernand, having regained his
composure, ‘it is little and insignificant. You Englishmen, you will not have
heard of it. If I tell you its name, it will mean nothing to you, nothing,
absolutely nothing.’

The count’s
voice had risen all the while he had been speaking. The ensuing silence
appeared harsh, broken only by the word “nothing” which seemed to echo around
the room.

‘Oh, I
don’t know about that, sir. I was particularly good at geography at school, so
I was. One of my best subjects. Even now, I think I can tell you all the
capital cities of – ’

‘I assure
you, Inspector,’ the count said, eyeing the policeman coldly, ‘you will not
have heard of my country.’

‘That
might well be, sir, but I’d still like to hear where you hail from.’

The inspector
was greeted by another silence that threatened to become uncomfortable. He
looked across the table at the handsome features of his companion and noticed
that his forehead was furrowed and that he appeared to be finding a spot on the
study carpet particularly fascinating.

‘I tell
you what, sir, suppose we help you out if we can, shall we?’ said Inspector
Bramwell, adopting a hearty tone and sitting back in his chair. ‘My sergeant
here will go into the library and see if he can find an atlas. I’m sure they’ll
have a fine one in a grand house like this one, where they must read plenty of
books or at least have them on display. And then you can point it out to us on
a map, your country I mean. You won’t even have to say the name out loud, if
you don’t want to. It’s just so my sergeant has something to write down in his
notebook. What say you, shall we do that, sir?’

There was
another awkward silence. The inspector was looking at the count so intensely
that the young man appeared to physically recoil, shrinking back into his
chair. Sergeant Lane had looked up from his notebook, and was watching the
proceedings with interest. Count Fernand had entered the room with something of
a princely swagger aimed at achieving maximum effect. Now he seemed to wish to
disappear into the very chair in which he was sitting.

‘No,’
said the count, finally. He had uttered the one word scarcely above a whisper
so that the sergeant, who was sitting a little distance from him, had to lean
forward to catch what he said.

‘I
thought as much.’ Any pretence at civility had disappeared from Inspector
Bramwell’s manner, to be replaced instead by something akin to contempt. ‘Now
listen to me, count. I will still call you count although I doubt that you have
any more right to use that title than my sergeant here does. I see through you
and so, as it happens, does Lord Belvedere. You are an impostor, sir; that is
clear. I’ll wager too that you are an Englishman. As to what your game is, I
can’t say that personally I’m very interested unless it has a bearing on this
murder.’ He sighed. ‘Although unfortunately, tedious though it is, I feel duty
bound to investigate your purpose for being here masquerading as someone you
are clearly not.’