Clubbed to Death (5 page)

‘She’s shedding, Robert,’ he said.

‘Indeed she is, Ellis,’ said Amiss. ‘You’d better give her a wash-and-brush-up in the morning. I’m sure she’ll enjoy that.’

‘Now look here, Robert. We’ve really got to get down to brass tacks. It’s nine-thirty and your narrative has only got as far as your arrival at the servants’ lunch. We’ve got some strategic decisions to take.’

Milton intervened hastily before Amiss could explode. ‘Now, Ellis, ’ he said soothingly, ‘we are dealing with a volunteer here you know, not a conscript, so we should let him play it at his pace and in his way.’

‘Very good, Jim,’ said Amiss. ‘I hope you’re taking notes, Ellis, on how modern managers keep their troops happy. You can’t throw your weight around as with the peasantry. But then of course you haven’t had Jim’s advantages. Lower-class upbringing, a management consultant for a wife and all those courses for senior rozzers on caring and compassionate leadership.’ He caught Milton’s eye and grinned. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll get on – even speed up a bit. But it is important that you understand the context and that’s not explained quickly. Let me give you a visual aid. I’ve brought a menu from the dining-room. And please grasp that what we have here is not a series of choices: luncheon includes the lot.’

Set Luncheon

Mulligatawny soup

Lobster salad

Boiled cod

Veal cutlets

Cold roast beef

Mashed potatoes

Stewed celery

Bread & butter pudding

Cheese

‘And what did you get for your lunch?’ enquired Milton.

‘Macaroni cheese and rice pudding.’

There was a silence, which Amiss interrupted. ‘Now, as you’ll imagine, that obviously left them a bit peckish. Here is today’s set dinner,’ and he read: ‘Oysters, turtle soup, turbot, orange sauce, boiled leg of mutton, broccoli, turnips, mashed potatoes, carrots, caper sauce, queen of puddings, anchovy toast, cheese and coffee. ’ Milton and Pooley seemed dazed.

‘Oh! I forgot to tell you that the set meals include wine. At dinner they had madeira with the soup, champagne with the fish and claret with the entrée, followed by a dessert wine and a rather decent port. All included in the price.’

‘Which is? It doesn’t say on these menus,’ said Milton, who was perusing them in complete bewilderment.

‘Lunch costs four pounds and dinner six. Pretty impressive, isn’t it? More heavily subsidised even than the House of Commons. And incidentally, servants have supper, not dinner, and I’m told it’s worse than lunch.’

‘I think you’ve made your point, Robert,’ said Milton. ‘You’re going to need supplementary provisions. Ellis, perhaps you could arrange a tuck-box?’

Pooley was spluttering. ‘Yes, yes. But this is absolutely ridiculous. They’re not paying ten per cent of the cost. They must pay ferociously high subscriptions.’

‘Anyone eating there regularly would need to pay a subscription of about ten thousand a year to avoid being a financial liability,’ said Milton. ‘This makes no sense. These menus are completely anachronistic.’

‘Straight out of Mrs Beeton’s
Household Management
,’ observed Pooley. ‘The first edition, I mean. My mother has one and I was looking at it only recently. These menus are typical, although Mrs Beeton was in favour of giving servants meat along with the macaroni cheese and rice pudding.’

‘Well, what else do you have to tell us from today, Robert?’ asked Milton. ‘Before we get down to making plans.’

‘Oh, nothing very important,’ said Amiss. ‘Sunil showed me the ropes, taught me the prices of drinks and how to make the club cocktail, the ffeatherstonehaugh special – a nourishing drink, made mainly with rum, brandy, champagne, green chartreuse and angostura bitters.’

‘And what do the drinks cost?’ asked Milton. ‘Well, they’re cheap but not incredibly cheap,’ said Amiss. ‘As far as I can see, members are cosseted, but not guests. So what I’ve shown you are the menus from the dining-room – aka the Coffee Room – where guests are not allowed. Members wishing to feed guests have to take them to the Strangers’ Room, which has a much less lavish menu and higher prices.’

‘Odder and odder,’ said Milton.

‘Anyway,’ asked Pooley, ‘does this mean that you’re now assigned to the bar?’

‘Before lunch, yes. Although I’ll be expected to help out in the dining-room at breakfast and on the gallery in the afternoons.’

‘What’s your room like?’ asked Milton.

‘I haven’t seen it yet, but according to Sunil, it’s appalling. We’re sharing, but thank God, it’s just the two of us. Apparently some of the others are four to a room, and I have to admit that I’m a trifle turned off by many of my colleagues. Personal daintiness is not among their priorities. But then one’s standards are inclined to slip in an institution that has dungeons for kitchens and, I am told, infestations of cockroaches, not to speak of the occasional rat.’

‘You’d think the public health authorities would be down on the management,’ said Pooley.

‘Who’s going to complain?’ asked Amiss. ‘Most of the staff are thankful to have been given a job. Even me. And since nearly everyone is foreign, they presumably think ffeatherstonehaugh’s is typical.’

‘Well, I certainly don’t think you’ll be wasting your time there,’ said Milton. ‘Ellis’s murder will probably turn out, despite him, to have been a suicide, but you’re going to have plenty to tell your grandchildren in the long winter evenings.’

Amiss got up and filled their glasses with Pooley’s Armagnac. ‘Thanks, ’ he said, waving his glass in the direction of his host, still unhappily pinioned to his chair by the cat. ‘Now, Ellis, since I’ve got a grasp of the geography and the ambience of ffeatherstonehaugh’s, will you run me through the story of the secretary’s death again?’

Pooley leaped to his feet, much to the rage of Plutarch, to whom he apologised absentmindedly as he began to stride up and down the room. The cat headed straight for Milton, jumped on his knee and commenced lacerating his thighs. With only a muttered oath, he extracted her claws, stroked her gently and had her lying placidly within half a minute. Amiss looked at him in some surprise.

‘Actually, I like cats, Robert,’ Milton said. ‘Even this one.’

‘Excellent. You can take her to keep you company when Ann’s away.’

‘You’re wasting your time, Robert. Regard me as an occasional friendly uncle. I will not adopt this encumbrance.’

Pooley was champing at the bit. ‘The secretary, Trueman, was having an after-lunch drink on the gallery, this day two weeks ago, with two of the members, Blenkinsop and Fagg.’

‘Is Blenkinsop actually a member?’ asked Amiss.

‘On and off. When he gave up being secretary he reverted to being a member. Where was I? Yes – Trueman was talking to Blenkinsop and Fagg—’

‘With two “f”s no doubt,’ said Amiss.

‘No.’ Pooley sounded rather long-suffering. ‘Two “g”s. According to their story he didn’t seem in very good form; he was pretty inattentive and uncommunicative. But naturally, being English, they didn’t ask him if anything was wrong. They just carried on regardless, talking about general club gossip. Then apparently, he leaped to his feet without a word and strode right down the gallery out of their sight. Next thing they heard a scream and a thud and to their horror saw his body lying on the floor of the Saloon. They rushed downstairs, felt for his pulse and concluded he was dead. Both being military types, they were not too distressed by the mess.’

‘Did anyone actually see him jump?’ asked Amiss.

‘No.’

‘Was anyone else on the gallery?’

‘Only Glastonbury, who was asleep very close to the spot from which Trueman descended. In due course he also descended to view the corpse and lament.’

‘And your only reason for thinking that it’s murder rather than suicide is your intuition and the lack of a suicide note.’

‘Or a motive. Here’s a comfortably-off, apparently quite happy bachelor, with no known entanglements and an affectionate family. Why should he jump?’

‘It happens, Ellis,’ said Milton, ‘as you well know. Lots of people never understand why their loved ones kill themselves.’

‘But you know there’s much more to it than that, Jim. As I’ve said to each of you, Trueman was unpopular in the club owing to his reforming zeal. Robert has already had confirmation of that. There just could have been one or even two people lying in wait for him. It wouldn’t take much to do it. You’d only have to invite him to look over the balustrade and with a bit of a heave, if you were reasonably fit, you could shove him over in a trice.’

‘I didn’t think there was anybody fit in ffeatherstonehaugh’s,’ said Milton. ‘Certainly we didn’t see anyone.’

‘Maybe there was a coven of geriatrics formed to do the deed,’ said Amiss. ‘Maybe he was actually clubbed to death with crutches, and chucked over afterwards. It still seems very thin to me, Ellis. However I’ll grant you, first, that your intuition is normally good and second, that even if he did commit suicide, I’d like to know why. And there certainly are some very odd things about ffeatherstonehaugh’s.’

‘I’m not really
au fait
with the details,’ said Milton, ‘but didn’t Ramsbum claim to have seen him fall over, and to have seen no one near him?’

‘Did you check out his eyesight?’ asked Amiss.

‘I did,’ said Pooley. ‘It’s poor enough to make his evidence worthless. My guess is he was just looking for attention.’

‘That wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Amiss.

Milton was frowning. ‘But wouldn’t Glastonbury have heard a struggle?’

‘From what I know of Glastonbury already,’ said Amiss, ‘you could throw a troop of boy scouts over that balcony in the time it takes him to emerge from sleep to reality. Still, it’s intriguing. What do you most want me to find out?’

‘If there is anything crooked going on,’ said Pooley.

‘How the club is financed, ’ said Milton.

‘Who Trueman’s enemies were, ’ said Pooley.

‘How threatening his reforms were to the members,’ said Milton.

‘What beats me is how he could possibly carry through any reforms,’ said Amiss. ‘I’d have assumed the committee was packed with die-hards and no-surrender types. In fact, I can’t even imagine how he came to be appointed.’

‘I’m hoping,’ said Pooley, ‘that the chairman of the club might help to explain that. We haven’t been able to talk to him yet because he’s been abroad on a golfing holiday, but he should be back within the week.’

Amiss looked at his watch and sighed. ‘Give me one for the road please, Ellis, and then I’ll be off. I don’t want to get back too late and disturb Sunil and I’ve got to unpack and be up at some appalling hour. The servants breakfast at seven-thirty in order to clear the decks for the serving of members’ breakfasts.’

Pooley poured him a generous drink and excused himself. He came back a moment later with a little package wrapped in foil and a cake tin.

‘Take these with you, Robert,’ he said. ‘It’s the remains of the smoked salmon and a cake my mother sent me the other day. She refuses to believe that my tastes have changed over the years so she still provides me with the plum cake I used to be sent at school. I hope you like it.’

‘I’m not big on cakes,’ said Amiss, ‘but the way things are looking in Dotheboys Hall, I’ll probably be organising midnight feasts for my colleagues. Thank you, I’m touched.’ He took another swig of brandy. ‘Here goes,’ he said. ‘Order me a cab. I’m ready to go over the top. It’s one way of fitting in at ffeatherstonehaugh’s.’

6

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Ramsbum was still on duty when Amiss got back to the club.

‘Goodness, Mr Ramsbum,’ said Amiss obsequiously, ‘what long hours you work.’

‘It’s what I’m used to. Anyway, how else am I supposed to earn a living if I don’t do the overtime?’

‘D’you have a family to support?’ asked Amiss sympathetically.

‘I bloody well do not,’ said Ramsbum, clearly offended. ‘Don’t ’old with that sort of thing at all. Women and kids, never saw the point. I’m ’appy ’ere with my gentlemen.’

Amiss wondered wildly if the old fool had been provided by Hollywood Central Casting. If so, they hadn’t expended much on a decent script. At this moment Ramsbum’s relaxed posture changed dramatically. He became completely rigid, arms by his sides, legs together and eyes shut tight: he appeared to be awaiting inspiration. At a loss, Amiss stood there irresolute. After a minute or so, Ramsbum opened his eyes, gazed fixedly at Amiss and recited:

‘To all young men that love to woo,

To kiss and dance, and tumble too;

Draw near and counsel take of me,

Your faithful pilot I will be;

Kiss who you please, Joan, Kate, or Mary,

But still this counsel with you carry,

Never marry.

There’s a poem says it all. One of my gentlemen taught it to me. It’s by that Rochester bloke.’

Amiss had a fruitless stab at trying to imagine Joan, Kate or Mary tumbling with Ramsbum and then wisely concluded that it was time to go to bed. With the amount of alcohol he had on board he could not be sure of playing any further conversation with Ramsbum as tactfully as he would wish.

‘That’s excellent, Mr Ramsbum. Thank you. I enjoyed it and I understand how you feel. I’ve often wondered why all these chaps want to get tied down. Now could you be very kind and direct me to my room.’

Ramsbum smiled the smile of pure malevolence that Amiss had come to expect of him. ‘Oh yes, your quarters, m’lord,’ he said. ‘Yes indeed. I ’ope your lordship’ll find everything to your satisfaction. ’Old on. ’ Donning a pair of small round plastic spectacles which he had extracted from a hidden pocket in the skirts of his frock-coat, he shambled over to the porter’s desk and ferreted around.