Ashworth Hall (38 page)

“We can’t afford to care what they think,” he replied impatiently. “Come on upstairs. We have to reason this through and make some kind of sense out of it.”

She went obediently. She had no desire to sit through an afternoon’s polite conversation in the withdrawing room, and if Justine returned she would not be able to hide the confusion or the sadness she felt. She thought she was quite a good actress and could mask her feelings rather well, but Emily said she was awful. On reasonable consideration, with some honesty, it was possible Emily was right.

Up on the landing Pitt turned not towards their room but in the opposite direction, towards the Grevilles’ bathroom. He opened the door and went in. She followed with a shiver, although in fact it was not cold, except to the mind.

“Why in here?” she said quickly. “I can think just as well in the bedroom.”

“I want to re-create exactly what happened,” he replied, closing and locking the door.

“Will that help?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Perhaps not.” He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Have you got a better idea?”

She felt a kind of desperation welling up inside her. She tried to steady her mind. Whatever the outcome was, there must be reason in it, emotional reason. Nobody was mad, acting from unconnected, irrational motives, it was simply that there was something important that they did not know.

“She must have had a reason,” she said, not directly in answer. “I don’t think it’s anything to do with Ireland. It must be personal. Perhaps we were wrong in assuming they don’t know each other?”

“They neither of them showed the slightest sign of recognition when she came in that first time,” he pointed out, sitting on the edge of the bath.

“Which only means that they did not want anyone else to know they knew each other,” she said reasonably. “Which in turn means it was not a relationship they could acknowledge.”

He frowned. “But the types of women he was used to were servants and the looser-moraled wives of acquaintances. Justine doesn’t appear to be either of those.”

“Well, if she did know him in that way,” she said with a shudder, “it would provide an excellent reason for her wanting him dead before he could perhaps tell Piers and ruin her prospects of marriage. Added to which, I think she really loves Piers, and I am certain he loves her.”

Pitt sighed. “I have little doubt that Greville would have told him when he had the opportunity. He wouldn’t want his only son marrying a woman who used to be his own mistress, if that word could be used of the way he regarded women.”

“Well, not for Doll Evans, poor creature,” she said bitterly. “And from what you said, possibly not for some of the others he discarded.”

He bent forward and started to unfasten his boots.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Going to reenact what happened,” he replied. “I don’t want to scratch the bath. I’ll take Greville’s part, you take Justine’s.” He took off his boot and began to undo the other.

“I’ll start from the door,” she said. “I’m not going outside. You can pretend I have towels.”

He looked up at her with a bleak smile and took off his other boot. He stood up and climbed into the bath. He lay down gingerly, trying to arrange himself as he remembered Greville.

She watched from the door.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “Come in as if you had a pile of towels.”

She held up her arms and walked forward. He was looking straight at her.

“This doesn’t work,” he answered. “You had better get towels and come in here properly, holding them in front of you. The screen wasn’t up; the room was just like this. He was lying with his head a little to one side, I think.”

“Shouldn’t I get Tellman?” she suggested. “To make sure it was just the same? Maybe he could take Greville’s part and you could watch?”

“He isn’t tall enough,” he agreed. “But yes, fetch him, by all means. And get the towels. If we are right about them knowing each other, he would have said something, surely, if she had come into the bathroom? Didn’t he suspect what she might do?”

“I doubt it,” she said with a slight smile. “He was an arrogant man. He’d used and thrown aside a lot of women. Maybe he thought she was going to plead for his mercy or his discretion.”

“Then she was a bigger fool than I take her for,” Pitt said grimly.

She went out, leaving him lying in the bath looking glum, and went to find Tellman. It did not take her long, and she returned less than ten minutes later with him and also a pile of half a dozen towels.

“Don’t see what it’ll accomplish,” Tellman observed with a shrug and a wary look at Pitt, who did look somewhat odd. Charlotte had told him about Justine and the blue slippers. He had been surprised, and she thought disconcerted also, but she was guessing from the expression in his face. He had not said anything.

Pitt did not reply, but slid back down to the position he thought Greville had occupied and looked at Charlotte to begin again.

She held the towels on one arm and closed the door behind her, as if she had just entered.

“You’re not lying right,” Tellman criticized Pitt. “He had his head a bit more to that side.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference,” Charlotte pointed out. “He could still see me unless I held the towels up in front of my face.” She did it in demonstration. “And I wouldn’t have to look towards him.”

“You would as you passed him to go behind.” Tellman was thoroughly argumentative. He looked back at Pitt. “And you still aren’t in the right position. You are too straight.”

Pitt obligingly slid further sideways.

Tellman regarded him. “Now you’ve changed your shoulders as well. He had his head more to one side—”

“Does it matter?” Charlotte interrupted. “It wouldn’t affect what he could see.”

“Maybe he was asleep?” Tellman said without conviction. “That would account for why he didn’t react or call out.”

“She couldn’t rely on that,” Pitt pointed out. “And Justine wouldn’t leave anything to that kind of chance.”

“It was a crime of opportunity.” Tellman was still disposed to argue.

“No it wasn’t,” Charlotte contradicted him. “She was dressed as a maid. That meant she thought about it and planned it. She must have brought the lace cap up from the laundry room, even if she took a dress from somewhere closer. She chose the only style of cap which would hide her own hair.”

“Well, you still aren’t lying right.” Tellman was immovable. He went over to Pitt and put his hand on the side of Pitt’s head. “You should be another three inches over that way.” He pushed gently.

“Oh!” Pitt let out a cry. “Three inches that way and my neck would be broken!” he said sharply.

Tellman froze. Then he straightened very slowly, his body rigid.

Pitt let out a long sigh, then sat up in the bath, staring at Charlotte.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte whispered. “Absolutely sure?”

“Yes!” Tellman replied sharply, but his very stubbornness was a doubt.

“Only one way.” Pitt climbed out of the bath, characteristically without bothering to straighten his clothes. “We’ll have to go to the icehouse and have a look at the body.” He walked towards the bathroom door.

“Boots,” Charlotte said quickly.

“What?”

“Boots,” she replied, pointing to his boots at the end of the bath.

He came back and put them on absentmindedly, smiling at her for a moment, then following Tellman.

But he got no further than the landing when he met Gracie, her face pinched with anxiety, her cap gone, her apron crumpled.

“Please sir, I gotter see yer!” she said desperately, her eyes on Pitt’s, completely ignoring Tellman beside him, and Charlotte standing in the bathroom doorway. “It’s private ….”

He could see the importance of it to her, whether it proved to be real or not to anyone else. He did not hesitate.

“Yes, of course. We’ll go back into the bathroom.” He turned and walked past Tellman, leaving him on the landing, and caught Charlotte’s eye, hoping she would understand. He closed the door after Gracie. “What is it?”

She looked absolutely wretched, her small hands clenched in her apron, making it like a rag.

“Wot does dynamite look like, sir?”

He controlled his surprise with an effort, and the immediate leap of both hope and fear.

“White and solid, a bit like candle tallow, only a bit different to touch.”

“Sort o’… sweaty?” she asked, a catch in her voice.

“Yes … that’s right. They sometimes wrap it in red paper.”

“I seen some. I’m sorry, sir, I went there, but I can explain. It weren’t nothin’ wrong.” She looked thoroughly frightened.

“I hadn’t thought it would be, Gracie,” he said, more or less honestly. This was sounding like Charlotte’s area of jurisdiction. He certainly was not going to interfere. “Where was it?”

“In Finn ’Ennessey’s room, sir.” She colored painfully. “I went ter tell ’im I were sorry for makin’ ’im look at the truth about Neassa Doyle an’ Drystan O’Day and Mr. Chinnery. You see, I made ’im look at the newspaper pieces.”

“What newspaper pieces?”

“Them wot Mrs. Pitt brought back from Lunnon. It proved Mr. Chinnery couldn’t a’ done it, ’cos ’e were dead.”

“But that was thirty years ago. It wouldn’t be in today’s newspapers,” he said reasonably. “Are you sure you have that right, Gracie?”

“Yes sir. They was old newspapers … just pieces like.”

“Old newspaper cuttings?” he said in disbelief.

“Yeah. She brung ’em back from Lunnon.” Her face was completely innocent and full of fear.

“Did she indeed? I’ll speak to Mrs. Pitt about that later. So you saw what looked like dynamite in Finn Hennessey’s room?”

“Yes sir.”

“Does he know you saw it?”

“I …” She lowered her eyes. She looked wretched. “I fink so. ’E came after me later on, ter try an’ explain, I fink. I … I din’t listen … I jus’ ran.”

“How long ago did you see this dynamite, Gracie?”

She did not look at him. “About two hours,” she whispered.

He did not need to tell her that she should have reported it to him straightaway. She knew it already.

“I see. Then I had better go and speak to him about it. You stay here with Mrs. Pitt. And that’s an order, Gracie.”

“Yes sir.” Still she did not look up.

“Gracie …”

“Yeah …”

“He might have hidden it, because he knew you’d seen it, but he can’t have taken it off the premises.”

She looked up slowly.

He smiled at her.

Her eyes filled with tears which spilled over down her cheeks.

He put his hand on her shoulder very gently. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “But you did the only thing you could.”

She nodded and sniffed.

He patted her, wishing he could do more, and went out to find Tellman.

Charlotte looked at him inquiringly.

“I think we have to arrest Finn Hennessey,” he said almost under his breath. “I wish I didn’t.”

Her face crumpled with sorrow, and she turned to the bathroom to go immediately to Gracie.

“Come on.” Pitt strode ahead along the corridor, leaving Tellman to follow behind, torn whether to stay or go, hating every step of it.

At the top of the main stairs they found Wheeler looking surprisingly cheerful. For a man whose employer had just been murdered and who therefore was about to be without a position, his general air of well-being was extraordinary. He seemed to glow with some inner secret which buoyed him up and filled him with joy.

“Do you know where Hennessey is?” Pitt asked him.

“Yes sir,” Wheeler said instantly. “He is in the stable yard talking to one of the grooms. Seems to have made friends. Poor young man has nothing much to do now that Mr. McGinley is dead.”

“Rather like yourself,” Pitt observed.

Wheeler looked faintly surprised. “Why yes, I suppose it is.” He did not seem greatly perturbed by it, and having ascertained that that was all he could do to be of assistance, he continued on his way.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tellman demanded angrily, catching up with Pitt to walk side by side with him along the passageway towards the side door. “He looks like he ate the cream instead of a man without a job.”

“I don’t know,” Pitt replied. “I would guess it has something to do with Doll Evans. I hope so.” He shot Tellman a dazzling smile, then went out of the door and strode across the ground towards the stable gates, leaving Tellman to follow after.

Finn Hennessey was standing in the yard talking to a groom who was lounging against the stable door. They were sheltered from the wind and it was quite mild out there in the late afternoon. Pitt dropped his pace to an amble. He did not want Finn to run, and then have to chase him in an unpleasant scene. It would all be painful enough. He saw Tellman walk past and go to the far side of the yard, as if he intended going through the gates and into the drive.

“Mr. Hennessey,” Pitt said, stopping in front of him.

Finn looked around and straightened up, throwing away the straw he had been chewing. The groom seemed unaware of anything untoward.

“Yes?” Finn said, then saw something in Pitt’s eyes, in his face, or even the tension in his body. For a second of prickling silence he stood poised on the edge of flight, panic in his face. Then he realized there was nowhere to run to, and he relaxed. A curious rigidity took hold of him. His body stiffened as though in anticipation of a blow, and a veil came over the directness of his eyes. “Yes?” he said again.

Pitt had seen that look before. He had not really expected Hennessey to tell him anything, but the faint hope of it died that moment.

“Finn Hennessey, I would like to question you about the dynamite placed in Mr. Radley’s study and exploded by Mr. McGinley, we assume, in an attempt to make it safe. Do you know where that dynamite came from?”

“No,” Finn said with a faint smile.

“I have reason to believe there may still be some in your room,” Pitt said grimly. “I intend to go and look. If, of course, you have removed it and placed it somewhere else, then it would be better for you if you tell me where it is before it explodes and hurts someone else … almost certainly someone who has no part in your quarrel.”