Heirs of the Body (26 page)

“Only he was foiled by the secret pocket.”

“At any rate, it’s not a possibility I can dismiss, though the chances of identifying the putative culprits are dim. The local coppers are working on it, but not exactly enthusiastically.”

“Was his wallet pinched?”

“No. Either the whole theory is bosh, or they were after bigger game and not interested in the few pounds it contained.”

“Someone who knew he had diamonds on him. Someone at Fairacres?”

“They might have found out about the diamonds. They’d have a hard time summoning up an expert pickpocket, though, in the few days they’ve been here.”

“Unless one of them is already a pickpocket. Frank? We don’t know anything about how he makes a living—at least, I don’t.”

“One to push and one to pick. In collusion with…?”

“Martha’s Sammy. I hate to say it but … They both come from the West Indies. Sammy travels a lot. He could well know that one of the family emigrated to Trinidad and go looking for descendants. Oh, wait, Frank isn’t a descendant.”

Alec laughed. “No. Much more likely to be someone Raymond had business dealings with in London, or on the Continent, or someone from South Africa.”

“Hence the cable? To the Cape Town police?”

“To them, and to the business. He had business cards in the wallet, so I thought I’d better inform them of his death.”

“I sent a wire to Tommy, telling him. I expect he’ll notify Raymond’s immediate family. Alec, I’ve just thought: Could he have been stabbed with something very thin, like the Empress Elizabeth? She walked on and then collapsed and died, just like Raymond. If I’m remembering it right, the wound hardly bled at all.”

“Dr. Pardoe would probably have seen it, presumably in the centre of the bruise. He’d certainly find out when he does the autopsy.”

“I suppose so.” Daisy didn’t care to think about the autopsy. She changed the subject. “Darling, there was a letter from Tommy to Edgar, but as he’s still out with the children, Geraldine read it.” The truth, if not quite the whole truth. “He says Martha’s Sammy has turned up! That’s really what I was coming to tell you. Sammy was supposed to reach Worcester this morning and should arrive at Fairacres this afternoon.”

“Hmm. I’ll take another look at a possible connection between Frank and Sammy. Pearson’s satisfied with his credentials?”

“To a degree. He’s apparently sure enough of his descent from Julian, but he wanted more time to study the papers he brought, which he wouldn’t leave with him. Sammy wouldn’t leave with Tommy, that is. I think Geraldine’s inviting Tommy to come down as soon as possible.”

“Good idea.”

“The other thing I have to tell you is that the Super rang and gave me an earful.”

“The local man, or Crane?”

“Crane. As you weren’t immediately available, he said I’d ‘do.’ He just wanted someone to rant at. He said you can assist the locals, but you won’t get days off to make up for it.”

“What cheek!” said Alec. “Worcestershire will pay the Met for my services, but they’ll take it off my holiday!”

“Perhaps he’ll relent. He refused to send Tom and Ernie, though, till you’re certain it’s murder. In that case, he’ll make sure you get the two of them. Because they’re accustomed to my … assistance in your cases, he said, rather snarkily. All the same, he actually sounded almost genial in the end. Do you suppose he’s getting resigned?”

“Resigned?”

“To me.”

“I doubt it, love. He’s been told blowing up is bad for his blood pressure. Blood pressure—Great Scott! I wonder whether…”

Daisy waited a moment for him to finish, then asked, “Whether what?”

“Never mind. The autopsy will tell us. As for the Super,” Alec added sourly, “no doubt he’s enjoying ruining another holiday for me.”

“Come on, darling, you know you’re dying to get your teeth into it.”

“Always supposing there’s actually something to get them into. And you keep your teeth out of it! I wish you could take the children home, but you’ll have to appear at the inquest.”

“We could send Bel and the twins home with Mrs. Gilpin. But what about Derek? Vi really isn’t well enough to handle him. And more to the point, what about Ben? He’s a target, if anyone is. We can’t leave him here on his own.”

“Nor send him with the others. He’d carry the risk, if any, along with him. To tell the truth, I have a ‘hunch,’ as the Americans say, that he’s safe here, and the others as well. If that damn butterfly net had been intended to kill, it would have been placed at the top of the stairs, not so near the foot. It was a feint, and I don’t know why. I just can’t work out what’s going on.”

“It
is
strange. The butterfly net is the only actual clue, and Edgar was always leaving it all over the place. Anyone could have got it. He’s already sent for a new one, by the way. His old spare is full of holes. Bigger holes than it’s supposed to have.”

“Moth holes?”

Daisy laughed. “Holes big enough for moths to get through, at least.”

“Just like this case. If there is one.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“Ahoy there!”
From behind them came the voice of a sailor used to hailing nearby ships through the roar of wind and wave.

Daisy and Alec swung round. Down the hill, his tread jaunty yet as firm as if beneath his feet was an ever shifting deck, strode a hatless man in a blue jacket, duck trousers, and seaman’s boots. His hair was dark gold and curly, on the long side, dishevelled by the breeze. Over his shoulder, he carried a large kit bag.

“Martha’s Sammy, I presume,” said Daisy, waving.

“Who but?”

They waited for him to catch up.

“This is Fairacres? I’m Samuel Dalrymple, out of Kingston, Jamaica,” he introduced himself. He spoke with only a slight trace of the melodic Jamaican accent, smoothed by constant contact with the people of many lands, no doubt.

“How do you do.” Daisy shook hands. “I’m Daisy Fletcher, née Dalrymple. You and I are some sort of cousins. And this is my husband.…” She glanced at Alec, who gave a slight nod. Anyone who didn’t know yet who he was soon would. “Detective Chief Inspector Alec Fletcher.”

Samuel took the announcement without a blink. Alec shook hands, which he generally avoided with suspects, but as yet he had little reason for suspicion. Besides, it was impossible not to respond to that cheerful grin and the twinkle in the blue eyes.

He turned back to Daisy. “Martha’s here? My wife?”

“She came down with us. I’ve grown very fond of her. She stayed with us in London for several weeks.”

“With you? Mr. Pearson told me a relative of mine had taken her in. I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Fletcher. Who could have guessed that my quiet little sweetheart would embark on such an adventure? You can’t imagine how I felt when I got home and found she’d left for England! But I’m proud of her.”

“She must have caught the spirit of adventure from her husband,” Alec said drily.

“Ah, you’ve heard about my latest voyage, Mr. Policeman.” Samuel grinned. “I’m glad you’re not an American cop. It got a bit exciting at times, but I don’t regret it. If this business hadn’t come up—” His expansive gesture took in the mansion and all its surroundings “—I’d still have enough to be able to provide a decent living for my family without being away so much of the time.”

“Well done,” said Daisy, who had no moral objection to a little lawbreaking in a good cause. “Did you manage to see your daughters on your way here from America?”

“Yes. I wish I could have brought them with me, but I worked my way over. No sense in wasting good money. I’ll go fetch ’em when everything’s settled. In the meantime, there’ll be a little brother or sister for them, as you’ll surely have noticed by now. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my Martha. How is she doing, Mrs. Fletcher?”

“Very well, apart from a bit of indigestion. Come in and I’ll take you to see her before we go through all the introductions. By the way, we’re all rather on christian name terms here, as there are swarms of Dalrymples staying here.”

“You’re welcome to call me Sam.”

The front door stood open to the afternoon warmth. Nonetheless, as they stepped into the hall, Ernest appeared.

“Footman,” Daisy explained in an undertone. “Ernest, this is Mr. Samuel.”

Ernest bowed slightly, and Samuel nodded, to the manner born. “The carrier will be delivering my chest, if it hasn’t yet arrived.”

“Not to my knowledge, sir. I shall enquire.”

“Is Mrs. Samuel still upstairs?”

“Yes, madam.”

“I’ll take Mr. Samuel up. Tell her ladyship he’s arrived, please.”

“Lord Dalrymple’s not back yet?” Alec asked. “I’d better see Lady Dalrymple.”

“Her ladyship is in her sitting room, I believe, sir.”

During this exchange, Samuel glanced about the spacious hall. As he and Daisy made for the stairs, he said, “Plenty of room for a swarm of Dalrymples in here all right.” He didn’t sound overawed, just reflective. “It’ll be interesting to meet my long-lost relatives.”

“I’ll be happy to introduce you to all the portraits, too.”

He laughed. “I’m happy to postpone that pleasure. Did you grow up here?”

“Yes, my father was the last—the previous—viscount, before Cousin Edgar. My mother resides at the Dower House, but you don’t have to deal with that yet. My sister’s staying with her. She and Martha are quite friendly. Here we are.” She knocked on Martha’s door. “It’s Daisy.”

“Come in.”

Daisy stuck her head round the door. “There’s someone to see you.” She stood back and let Samuel past.

“Sammy! Oh Sammy!”

Daisy quietly closed the door behind him and went back downstairs.

As she trudged along the passage towards Geraldine’s sitting room, the door at the end opened. Edgar came in, followed by his three acolytes. All four were grubby, in stockinged feet, carrying muddy boots.

“Mummy!” cried Bel, “we found so much stuff for Uncle Edgar.” She dropped her boots and started to take off her knapsack—Edgar’s solution to the perennial problem of the lack of decent-sized pockets in girls’ clothes. “You should see—”

“Not now, darling! You three go right back out and round the house to the conservatory. Unload your collections, then upstairs and clean up. Nursery tea today.”

Derek protested, “Uncle Edgar said—”

“Out!”

Muttering apologies, the three filed back out. Edgar started to follow, saying, “Sorry! You’re quite right. Not the thing to traipse through the house like this but we left the bicycles and the dogs in the stables—”

“Not you, Edgar.” Daisy tugged his sleeve, urging him towards Geraldine’s sitting room.

He glanced down at himself. “Not like this, my dear. Geraldine won’t care for—”

“Never mind that. You’re needed.”

Bewildered, he padded after her. She knocked but didn’t wait for a response. He set down his boots neatly to one side of the door and followed her in.

Alec stood up. Geraldine looked round, blinked, and said, “Edgar, really! I could wish you hadn’t transferred your affections from the Lepidoptera to the Odonata. Hunting butterflies involved a good deal less mud.”

“My fault,” said Daisy. “And I practically dragged him in here.”

“No, no, my dear.” He patted her hand, leaving a smear of mud.

“I’m glad you’ve come, sir,” said Alec. “We have a great deal to tell you, and the sooner the better.”

Daisy sat down beside Geraldine, and Edgar made for a nearby brocade-covered seat.

“Not there, Edgar!”

Alec placed a cane-bottom chair for the beleaguered peer.

“Thank you, my dear fellow.”

“Thank
you
for keeping Belinda and the boys out of the way all day. It was a relief not to have to worry about what they were up to.”

“Delightful children, high-spirited but always polite and obliging. It was my pleasure.”

“Alec, please tell him what’s happened,” Geraldine said impatiently.

“Bad news, I’m afraid, sir. Raymond was involved in an accident in Worcester and has since died.”

“Died!” Edgar was horrified. “I was under the impression that the mishaps we’ve been suffering were simply coincidental accidents, or perhaps a series of practical jokes.”

“I daresay Alec’s profession makes him more suspicious than most,” Geraldine allowed. “Sir Nigel intimated as much. But Raymond’s death alters the picture.”

“I can see that, my dear.”

“Unfortunately,” said Alec, “it doesn’t make the picture any clearer. We can’t be sure whether the accident was, in fact, sheer bad luck, or if not, whether the attack had any connection with what’s been going on here, or even whether the incident caused his death.”

Edgar took off his pince-nez and blinked earnestly at Alec as he polished a few daubs of mud off the lenses. “I see your difficulty. Is Wookleigh taking the matter seriously? Willing to provide aid and assistance in such dubious circumstances?”

“Lady Dalrymple put it to him most forcefully, sir,” Alec said dryly. “After initial scepticism, he became most cooperative, even before Raymond’s death, and now he’s bending over backwards to pass the whole thing on to Scotland Yard.”

“And your superior at Scotland Yard? Do you wish me, or better Geraldine, to speak to him?”

“I appreciate the offer.” His voice had become, if possible, even dryer. “But the chief constable’s request for help should be sufficient. With any luck, my sergeants will be on their way in the morning. Meanwhile, the local police surgeon is preparing to conduct a post mortem examination—”

“Surely that’s not necessary!” Edgar exclaimed in distress.

“Of course it is, Edgar,” said Geraldine. “If we don’t know
what
killed Raymond, how can we possible discover
who
killed him?”

“There’s also the question of
why
,” Alec added.

“Not for the inheritance?”

“Could be. Or could be these.” He took out the little bag he had found in Raymond’s secret pocket. “Diamonds. At least, so I assume.”

“Good gracious! Apparently they weren’t taken, though.”

“He had them well hidden. You have a safe, sir? The sooner they’re locked away, the happier I’ll be.”