A Mourning Wedding (7 page)

Read A Mourning Wedding Online

Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: A Mourning Wedding
4.28Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Mummy, I've brought Daisy.”
Sir James, who appeared to have been pacing up and down the confined space, came eagerly to meet Daisy. “Mrs. Fletcher, can you tell us—”
Lady Devenish cut off her husband. “So kind of you to come, Mrs. Fletcher,” she said, her voice as chilly as the room.
“Please accept my condolences. It's a dreadful thing to happen.”
“Daisy, I don't think you know my brother, Teddy.”
“No, I don't believe we've met. How do you do, Mr. Devenish.”
Edward Devenish was several years younger than his sisters Angela and Veronica, not much over twenty-one, Daisy guessed, and the spoilt baby of the family. Expensive, too: his sloppy posture did nothing to conceal the exquisite cut of his light grey tweeds. At least he had manners enough to straighten when he was introduced and take his hands out of his pockets.
“I hear you married a copper, Mrs. Fletcher.”
His tone was so indifferent as to be almost offensive, but Daisy saw a spark of emotion in his eyes. Fear, perhaps; she couldn't be sure. He had not been at dinner last night, had not come into the drawing room before she went to bed. When did he arrive at Haverhill? Was he on the list Jennifer had given the Chief Constable?
“Won't you sit down, Mrs. Fletcher?” Lady Devenish interrupted her thoughts. “We wish to consult you. Angela informs us that Lord Haverhill has sent for your husband.” Her condescension was much more offensive than her son's ambiguous indifference.
The Dowager Vicountess Dalrymple, though in general she disapproved of her younger daughter, would have applauded the steel that entered Daisy's voice. “I won't sit down, thank you. I can only spare you a few minutes. Uncle Oliver has asked me to … talk things over with Lucy.”
“Poor Lucy!” exclaimed Angela, much as if Lucy was an abandoned dog.
“What exactly is it you want to know, Sir James?”
He glanced at his wife. “Josephine and I just wondered whether Mr. Fletcher—Detective Inspector Fletcher—”
“Detective
Chief
Inspector, Daddy,” Angela corrected him.
This threw him off his stride, and his wife again took over. “I suppose Mr. Fletcher will want to ask a great many questions of everyone in the house?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“This places us in a thoroughly invidious position.”
“What the mater means,” said Teddy, “is that being Grandmother's nearest and dearest, we are liable to be blamed for the whole show when people are asked questions they'd rather not answer. Worse, in newspaper reports and detective stories the immediate family are always the prime suspects, so everyone's going to avoid sitting next to us at lunch in case we put arsenic in the soup.”
His mother let him finish his rant before saying acidly, “What I should like to know is how long we are to be subjected to such conditions. How long will it take the police to arrest the murderer?”
“That depends mostly on how much cooperation they get,” said Daisy, “particularly from the immediate family. So when you're asked questions you'd rather not answer, I suggest you tell the truth, the whole truth, right away. And now, if you'll excuse me, Lucy needs me.”
As she turned to leave, Sir James hurried to open the door for her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Should be thinking of my poor mother, what?”
Daisy gave him a regal nod as she passed. Behind her she heard Lady Devenish again: “I wonder if Maud has a black frock I could bear to wear.”
Angela followed her out. “So put that in your pipe and smoke it!” she observed. “Well said, Daisy. Of course what Mummy really
wanted to ask, but didn't quite dare after you got on your high horse, is whether Mr. Fletcher is going to think one of us did it.”
“You'll be on the list he starts with, at least. By the way, when did your brother arrive?”
“Last night, well after one. He motored over—he has a sporty little Lea Francis. He rang me up yesterday evening and asked me to go down and let him in at one, but I hung about on the terrace for ages, waiting for him. I didn't quite dare leave a door unlocked and go back to bed in case a burglar chose that moment to try all the handles.”
“You were wandering about the house in the middle of the night? Didn't you hear or see anything suspicious?”
“I went down the back stairs, nowhere near Grandmother's room. That's my room, there—Teddy spent the rest of the night with a couple of pillows and a bedspread on my floor—and that's the door to the stairs I used.” Angela pointed at a baize-padded swing door.”
“All the way from the ground floor to the top?” Daisy asked.
“Yes, the Victorians liked their servants to be invisible. Hence all those ridiculous pillars in the entrance hall, for servants to hide behind with their mops and pails. Gosh, the murderer could have been right there when I crossed the hall. I don't know whether to be glad I didn't meet him creeping about or to wish I had. I might have been able to save Grandmother.”
“Or you might have been done in too,” said Daisy.
“W
ould you mind awfully if Tiddler and I walked over to the folly with you?” Angela asked as she and Daisy reached the hall. She and her dog gazed at Daisy with their heads tilted to exactly the same angle and the same appeal in their eyes.
Daisy had intended to put her thoughts in order so that she would have a coherent tale to tell Alec when he arrived. She needed solitude to ponder which of Angela's relatives might have murdered Angela's grandmother, which wasn't the sort of thing one could decently say to Angela.
“I'm expecting to find Lucy in the folly and I rather wanted a private word with her.”
“Oh, that's all right. We'll sheer off when we get to the lake.”
“I wish I'd brought Nana. She'd love it here.”
Beneath a hazy blue sky, they walked down a gentle slope on a grassy track across parkland with scattered oaks and elms. Tiddler kept his nose to Angela's heels until a rabbit dashed across the path just in front of them. The little dog chased it for a few yards before returning to his usual post.
Angela was delighted. “He's going to be all right. I was beginning to think he'd never recover his spirits.”
“But the rabbit had a terrible fright, even if the creature chasing it wasn't much bigger.”
“With different instincts. Predator and prey.”
“I was teasing.”
“One can't change the basic nature of animals,” Angela said seriously. “Cats will always catch and torment mice and birds, and I expect people will always eat meat. But people can be taught not to inflict cruelty, deliberately or through negligence.”
Daisy encouraged her to talk about her job with the RSPCA. “It would make an interesting article,” she decided. “I'll make some notes on what you've told me and see if I can interest an editor. You wouldn't mind answering a lot of questions, maybe letting me trail around with you for a day?”
“Not at all. I'll do anything to further our work. Oh, but I may not keep the job much longer, if Grandmother's really left me enough money. I don't know how long it takes for probate and things like that.”
“Not long, I believe, if there are no challenges, or other difficulties.” Difficulties such as one or more of the heirs being arrested for murder, Daisy thought. Just how far would Angela go to further her work?
They had come to the bank of the artificial lake. The track continued around the water in both directions and across it by means of a stone bridge in the mediæval style, just wide enough for a heavily laden packhorse. It even had niches on each side for pedestrians to get out of the way of a passing horse. It led to a wooded island, whence a similar bridge led to the farther shore.
Angela set off to circle the lake, while Daisy took the bridge. It was very quiet, with nothing but the song of birds and squirrels chattering in the trees.
Emerging from the island copse, Daisy saw the folly not far ahead, at the top of a low rise. From her bedroom back at the house, it presented the appearance of a ruined cloister. Close to, it was obviously
a comfortable gazebo in disguise, with open arches in front, arched windows at the back. Daisy remembered picnics held there during earlier visits with Lucy.
The gazebo was empty. Had she come all this way for nothing? At least the exercise was good for her, Daisy told herself.
“Lucy?” she called.
“Oh, it's you, darling. I'm here.” Lucy appeared, framed in one of the misleadingly ruinous arches. “I thought it might be amusing to put together a book of follies,” she said gloomily. “I've been taking photos.”
“What a good idea. Will you just label the pictures or would you like me to supply some text?”
“I don't suppose anything will come of it.” She stepped over the sill. The new short skirts certainly had their points. “I shall just go on taking pictures of ugly society matrons till I die.”
“Bosh! You've done plenty of beautiful women and handsome men, and with Lady Eva's legacy you'll be able to pick and choose your subjects. Even if you really don't marry Binkie. Have you talked to him?”
“Spoken to him. Not really talked. He was at the office and I didn't want to upset him.”
“It would have been a bit mean. Did you tell him about Lady Eva?”
“I just said something dreadful had happened. He's going to leave work early and drive down. It doesn't take long in the Alvis. I told him to meet me in the conservatory at five, when Uncle Aubrey's out of the way.”
“Lord Fotheringay might not join the rest for tea, now that there's a police investigation instead of a festive house-party.”
“Oh well, if he's still there, Binkie and I can always hide behind a potted palm or something. Or you could come with me and bear him off.”
“Right-oh,” said Daisy.
 
 
Alec had telephoned from Liverpool Street to give the Chief Constable the time of their arrival. Instead of the expected police car, Lord Haverhill's Daimler met him and Tom Tring at the station. In the back was Sir Leonard Crowe himself.
The sergeant settled his substantial bulk on the front seat, the Murder Bag nursed on his lap. His weight caused the massive car to shudder barely perceptibly. Unless the chauffeur was a confirmed misanthrope, by the time they reached Haverhill Tom would know exactly what the servants' hall thought about the murder. Understanding that, his later questions could be framed so as to elicit answers where a less sympathetic manner would fail.
Alec got in beside the Chief Constable.
“I was going to fetch you in my own motor,” said Sir Leonard, “but Lord Haverhill insisted on sending his. My dear fellow, I'm very glad to see you. My chap is out of his depth, I fear. An excellent chap in his way, but unaccustomed to dealing with lords and ladies, don't you know. You're quite in the way of it, I gather?”
“I've had a number of cases involving the aristocracy, sir,” Alec said cautiously.
“Your wife being one of them. A charming lady, and with her wits very much about her, I should say. Haverhill told me her friend, Miss Lucy Fotheringay, has a very high opinion of your ability.”
Lucy had never given Alec that impression—rather the reverse—but she had never had need of his services before. “It's going to be damned awkward,” he said, “being both his lordship's guest and a detective investigating a murder in his family.”
“Neither fish, flesh, fowl nor good red herring, eh? Crane seems to think you're up to it. One of the best, is Birdy Crane.”
“I take it you were at school with the Superintendent, sir.” No one at the Yard dared pronounce that nickname aloud.
“Yes, yes, more years ago than I care to think about. Never thought we'd both end up in the same line of work. Not that I'd call myself a detective, mind you! Administration, that's my line, and
cheering the fellows on. I won't be interfering with your investigation, don't worry about that.”
“Can you tell me, sir, is there any chance Lady Eva was killed by an intruder?”
Sir Leonard shook his head gloomily. “No sign of a break-in. Nothing pinched. That's the sort of thing I'd trust Inspector Crummle for. And he's ruled out the servants, too, I'm afraid. You'll want to go over all that with him, of course.”
“Yes, but I'm glad to hear you trust his judgment. That'll make my job much easier. The cause of death was strangulation?”
“Even the medical Johnnies—family doctor and police surgeon—couldn't argue about that. A nasty sight. I'm very sorry Mrs. Fletcher should have seen it.”
“So am I.” But if she would keep getting herself involved in murder investigations, she had only herself to blame. Alec was prepared to wager a substantial sum that there had been absolutely no real need of her looking at the body.
She knew the people involved, though. That was always her strong point. And people told her things. Those misleadingly ingenuous blue eyes drew out information no one would ever think of volunteering to the police. Alec sighed. He'd have to accept her help on this one, so he might as well do it graciously.
“I expect you'll want to talk to your wife first of all,” said Sir Leonard, apparently reading his mind. “Reassure the little woman, and so on.”
Not reading his mind. Daisy would kill him if he tried to “reassure the little woman.” An acknowledgment that she was needed was what she'd want. “Yes, I'd better see Daisy,” he agreed.
“That reminds me, do you have the list of everyone who was in the house last night? The one I dictated to your young man on the telephone?”
“No. I left it with DC Piper. There was no time to make a copy.”
“Now where did I put it? Ah, here we are. This is the original. Your
wife is on it, of course, my dear chap, though naturally she is not considered to be under suspicion, so I didn't mention her to Piper.”
“I'm glad you don't suspect her, sir, but if your inspector does I shall have to bow out of the case.”
“No, no, no question of that! His lordship wouldn't hear of it. I'll have a word with Crummle.”
Convenient, if highly irregular, Alec thought, scanning the list. Confusingly, a large proportion of the surnames were Fotheringay. There were lords, ladies and baronets, quite enough to give a provincial DI cold feet, especially with the addition of a few Honourables and a clergyman. He himself had the inestimable advantage of a wife who was herself an Hon., however little she used her courtesy title.
Of course, he also had the disadvantage of a wife who would refuse to believe in the possibility of Miss Lucy Fotheringay's guilt. Not that Alec was inclined to put Lucy high on his personal list, though he could imagine circumstances which might drive her to murder. However, so fastidious a young lady was unlikely to resort to strangulation when she had all sorts of lethal chemicals available in her dark-room.
Sir Leonard had maintained a diffident silence while Alec pondered, but now he burst out, “I say, my dear fellow, nothing in this blackmail business, eh? Crummle would have it that while Lady Eva wouldn't extort money, she might have used this wretched information she collected in other ways.”
“It's quite possible, I'm afraid.” Actually, Alec was by no means so sure Lady Eva was above extorting money. If that were the case, Ernie Piper would surely find evidence, her ladyship having an obsession with written memoranda.
“Mrs. Fletcher is of the opinion that Lady Eva simply enjoyed having all the facts at her fingertips, without any intention of making use of them.” The Chief Constable sighed. “But Crummle pointed out that no one could be sure she wouldn't reveal her knowledge in a disastrous way. I'm afraid he's right.”
“Undoubtedly. Great Scott, is that Haverhill?”
“Quite a pile, isn't it? A bit too fantastic for my taste, I must confess. Rather like a fairy-tale palace—Sleeping Beauty, or some such. On the large side, too, but several family members live there on a regular basis, and scores of servants, even since the War.”
“Pay well enough and one can still find domestic staff, I'm sure.” Alec mentally noted this evidence of prosperity, borne out by the excellent condition of the drive and the parkland on either side of the avenue.
He turned his attention back to the house itself as the Daimler approached that endless façade. An intimidating sight, he acknowledged. If Daisy's childhood home had been on this scale, he might never have dared propose to her.
The exterior of the fairy-tale palace—in Sir Leonard's unexpectedly whimsical phrase—looked as well maintained as the grounds. The upkeep must cost a small fortune annually. The Fotheringays were clearly not one of those noble families who had fallen on hard times after the War. Whether that fact had any bearing on the murder remained to be seen.
As the car stopped, Daisy came pattering down the steps. Jumping out, Alec called, “Careful!”
“It's all right, darling, I'm not front-heavy yet.” But she slowed to a more decorous pace. “I did my best to persuade Lucy not to persuade Lord Haverhill to ask Sir Leonard to call you in, but I'm jolly glad you're here, all the same. Hello, Mr. Tring! Thank you for rushing to the rescue!”
Tom's bald dome gleamed as he doffed his hat. “My pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.” His luxuriant moustache quite failed to hide a beam. Though not, like Piper, convinced of Daisy's infallibility, he had a very soft spot for her. “The Chief'll soon have it all sorted out, I don't doubt.”
Sir Leonard came around the car. “Well, I'll leave you to get on with it, Fletcher. You won't mind if I hang about a bit? I won't interfere with your doings, I promise.”
“I hope you'll introduce me to Detective Inspector Crummle, sir, in ten …” Alec caught Daisy's eye. “ … In a quarter of an hour or so. And later to Lord Haverhill.”

Other books

Body Guard by Rex Burns
Sweet Backlash by Violet Heart
Angel Hands by Reynolds, Cait
True Grit by Charles Portis
Maybe by John Locke
Blur Me by Jones, EB
The Rescuer by Dee Henderson
Scattered Bones by Maggie Siggins