Hollow Crown (25 page)

‘Who was that, Ned?’ the Duchess asked on his return to the drawing-room.

‘Inspector Lampfrey. Apparently, the inquest is postponed. Chief Inspector Pride, who has been brought in to investigate Leo Scannon’s death, believes there may be some connection
with Molly’s. It’s one in the eye for poor Lampfrey who, under pressure from the Chief Constable, was going to say Molly died accidentally.’

‘Did you say Chief Inspector Pride is investigating Leo’s death? Surely that means you can’t do anything? As I remember, you fought like cat and dog when he was here
investigating poor General Craig’s murder.’

‘Mmm. Maybe. Anyway, I said I wanted your advice. What else do you know about Scannon – I mean apart from his being a social climber? What were his roots? He was filthy rich,
wasn’t he?’

‘Oh Ned, I don’t know. It’s true we have known him a long time. After all, he was practically a neighbour and Gerald and he used to go on about politics whenever they met.
Gerald said he was one of Mosley’s supporters, and you know what he thinks of Mosley.’

‘But who was he?’

‘Let me think. His father made his fortune from matches, I believe – in Birmingham. Yes, that’s it – Starburst matches. You know the ones I mean?’

Edward drew a box from his waistcoat pocket. ‘These?’

‘That’s right. I know there was a spot of bother – Gerald knows the details. Apparently matches are very dangerous things to make. Is it phosphorus? I think it’s
phosphorus – anyway, some of the poor girls on the factory floor got very ill and several died. The health and safety people closed him down but it all blew over and the factory
reopened.’

‘And Scannon senior got even richer?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘When was this? I thought the match girls’ strike was in 1888.’

‘Was it? I’m afraid I was never very good at history. I think Leo’s father had his troubles in 1913 because then the war came and – yes, I remember now – Gerald
said it was horrible – the factory was turned over to making poison gas. Don’t they use phosphorus in gas?’

Edward was silent, his face grim. So that was why Leo had been reticent about the source of his father’s wealth; it was based on poison and, of course, Leo died of poisoning. Didn’t
rat poison contain phosphorus? He got up and rang the bell. When the butler appeared, he said, ‘Bates, any luck with the rat poison?’

Connie looked startled but the butler said, ‘Yes, my lord. There is rat poison in the gardener’s shed and I’m afraid to say it wasn’t locked up. It was just stored with
some old petrol cans. I’ve instructed Merry that from now on it must be kept in a locked cupboard clearly marked as poison.’

‘Very good. I wonder if you would be kind enough to have Mr Merry bring me the can to look at tomorrow morning before I go back to London.’ He saw the butler look disconcerted.
‘Don’t worry, Bates. It’s nothing sinister. I just want to remind myself what the ingredients of rat poison are.’

‘Very good, my lord.’

‘And Bates – the inquest has been postponed so I will be going back to town immediately after breakfast tomorrow.’

At dinner that night, Connie said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about Frank, Ned. His housemaster has been worried about him. I’m not blaming Verity but . . . ’

‘But what?’ Edward asked, prepared to spring to Verity’s defence.

‘Gerald thinks – and I agree – that she has encouraged him.’

‘What on earth do you mean, Connie? Encouraged him in what?’

‘In his silly Communism – he’s joined the Young Communists, would you believe it? Gerald’s very upset. Frank says he won’t be a duke and that we are
“exploiters”. I mean, that’s too ridiculous! Can you imagine Gerald exploiting anyone? What with the depression in agriculture, the estate runs at a loss and Gerald refuses to
accept rent from his tenants until things improve.’

‘Oh dear,’ Edward said. ‘Actually, Verity is going down to Eton next week to address a school society and I’ve said I’ll go with her. Frank invited us . . . invited
Verity,’ he added, defensively.

‘Must you?’ Connie sounded distressed. ‘His housemaster says he has started this magazine called – what is it? –
Beyond Bounds
, I think he said. I
haven’t seen a copy but I think it’s very Communist – lots about Spain.’

‘It’s just natural schoolboy rebellion, surely. Frank’s a sensible boy with a strong sense of duty. Once he gets it out of his system, he’ll be right as rain.’

‘I do hope so, Ned. I do hope so.’

‘Look, if I may, Connie, I’ll come back here in a few days with – Verity and make our report. I’ll do my best when we are at Eton to talk some sense into the
boy.’

Rather surprisingly, Verity made only a token protest when they foregathered at the Hassels’ the following evening. Edward made a full report and included Adrian and
Charlotte, who were now tacitly accepted as part of the team.

‘So there we are,’ he finished, clutching his glass of cheap Italian wine which was already giving him a headache. ‘Rodine is easily available. Most gardeners have it in their
sheds and pharmacists make no difficulty about supplying it. The phosphorus, especially mixed with alcohol, kills almost immediately. Might we speculate that Scannon’s murderer used rat
poison not just because it was easy to get hold of but because his father had been responsible for the death of a near relative either in the war – a victim of a gas attack – or in 1913
when Scannon senior was prosecuted after several workers in his factory died of phossy jaw?’

‘Phossy jaw? It sounds almost cosy,’ Charlotte said.

‘I don’t want to spoil anyone’s appetite but it’s anything but cosy. The phosphorus is breathed into the lungs and so gets into the bloodstream, weakening every bone in
the body, not just the jawbone. I looked it up in the London Library this afternoon. Initially, you feel as if you’ve got the flu – you sneeze a lot and get toothache. After some weeks,
or even months, the pain spreads throughout the face – your glands swell and your gums are inflamed. Then your teeth fall out and . . . ’

‘Ugh! That’s enough, Edward,’ Charlotte stopped him. ‘It’s illegal now, I suppose, to use phosphorus in matches?’

‘Yes, as a result of Scannon’s case and one or two others, it was made illegal to use white phosphorus in matches. In fact, its use was outlawed by the Berne Convention in 1906 but
it took time for our great democracy to take the necessary action to ban it.’

‘It’s too horrible,’ Verity said. ‘I knew I hated Scannon and now I hate his father as well.’

Adrian said, ‘Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. There are other reasons why Scannon might have been murdered.’

‘You mean because of his links with the Nazis?’ Verity said.

‘Not that either, or rather not only that. I mean – dash it – I don’t like talking about this in front of you girls . . . ’

Charlotte said, ‘Don’t be silly, Adrian. This is a murder investigation and we’re not blushing virgins.’

Edward sighed as he recalled being admonished by Verity on another occasion in almost the same words. He wondered what his brother would say if he could hear their conversation. Well, he knew
what he would say; he would be outraged.

Adrian shrugged and went on, ‘Well, you’ve been warned. Scannon wasn’t just a pansy – he liked . . . he liked being treated roughly.’

‘What do you mean?’ Verity asked, intrigued.

‘Well, I’ve got a few friends who . . . it’s illegal but you can’t legislate away human feelings.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, Adrian, spit it out. We do know about Oscar Wilde and they say Noel Coward is . . . that way.’

‘You know I said Matt had committed suicide when Scannon and he fell out? Well, I talked to some of his friends and they said it wasn’t just about his art being a failure. They said
Scannon liked to . . . to tie him up and do horrible things to him and when he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take it any more Scannon went off and found other young men who would . . . oblige.
And these were often violent, ill people – the dregs. I don’t know, perhaps it’s all lies. I hope it is. I’m just repeating what I was told but when news got out about
Scannon’s murder, people who knew about his sexual habits assumed he’d been killed by one of his . . . his boys.’

There was silence after this. Both the girls prided themselves on being unshockable and Verity had seen terrible acts of violence in Spain but this seemed so disgusting. She said viciously,
‘He deserved to die. Why don’t we leave it at that?’ The idea that violence could be
desired
. . . could be
domesticated
made her feel physically ill.

‘Yes, I agree. Leave that for Pride to deal with. I want to know about Molly’s death,’ Edward said stubbornly. ‘From what we’ve discovered, it makes it less likely
than we first thought that the two killings are related and that makes things easier. Molly’s death must be because of her relationship with the King – the baby and or the letters she
stole.’

‘Maybe,’ Verity said slowly, ‘but not certainly. I’ve been doing some digging, too. You probably already know this, Edward, but by coincidence a friend of mine has just
got back from Kenya and he says you haven’t been as frank with us as you might have been about Molly’s . . . trouble.’

‘What do you mean? I’ve told you the facts.’

‘No you haven’t – at least, not all the facts. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead,’ Verity went on, sententiously, ‘but you didn’t tell me how much
she was disliked – perhaps hated is not too strong a word. Respectable people, my friend says, would have nothing to do with her. Not to put too fine a point on it, they called her a whore.
He says she broke up two marriages and apparently Douglas Davenant – the man her husband found her in bed with – was destroyed by the scandal. Molly dumped him, society ostracized him
and he went off to Lake Rudolph and got speared by a native or eaten by a lion or something. My friend couldn’t remember the details. I’m sorry, Edward, it’s no good looking like
that at me. It may be beastly but, if we are to find who killed Molly, we have to face facts, however unpleasant.’

Edward hesitated and then said, ‘Molly wasn’t a whore but she was promiscuous. As for the rest, don’t forget I took her out of Nairobi so I never heard what happened to
Davenant. I really don’t think you can blame Molly if he went off the rails. Perhaps he just wanted a bit of adventure and it was just bad luck he was killed.’

‘Well,’ Charlotte said, ‘Verity’s right. We can’t assume Molly was killed for political reasons. We have to look at who was at Haling when she died and see if
anyone had a link with her. Didn’t you say Boy Carstairs knew her in Kenya? Could he have had it in for her?’

‘I think he might have been her lover at some point,’ Edward said slowly. ‘I must talk to him. We’ve hardly exchanged a dozen words. In fact, I got the impression he was
trying to keep out of my way at Haling. However, I don’t think he’s a murderer. Molly was murdered for politics, by which I mean her relationship with the King. That has to be the most
likely explanation. There is one thing I haven’t told you – I didn’t even tell Lampfrey – but it was when we were going through her flat – you remember, Verity, when I
met you coming back from Harrods?’

‘Yes.’

‘I found a brooch or badge by her bed. It was a swastika set with diamonds and rubies. Look . . . ’ He put his hand in his pocket and passed the object to Verity.

‘It’s horrible,’ she said, almost dropping it. ‘Why didn’t you give it to Lampfrey?’

‘I don’t know. I should have done but, to tell the truth, I don’t believe she was a Nazi and I didn’t want her name besmirched.’

‘Besmirched!’ Verity said scathingly. ‘I don’t believe this, Edward. You’ve got to face up to the real Molly Harkness. You say yourself she wasn’t perfect.
If, after she’s dead, you start trying to “save her face”, or whatever it is you’re doing, we’ll never get to the truth.’ Edward looked down at his shoes.

Adrian said gently, ‘She’s right, you know. Mrs Harkness, from what you tell us, was a gutsy woman and she wouldn’t thank you for trying to protect her reputation if it meant
not finding her killer.’

‘Anyway, there’s another explanation for the swastika being in her bedroom – two others, actually,’ Charlotte broke in. ‘She might have been given it – maybe
even by the King himself. It’s not impossible.’

‘And the other explanation?’ Edward queried.

‘You said she told you her flat had been searched by someone looking for the letters. Maybe whoever that was dropped it.’

‘Sounds unlikely. If her flat was being searched by someone who knew their business, they’d hardly be carrying a piece of Nazi jewellery, let alone dropping it.’

‘They missed the King’s letters to Molly which you found under the bed, Edward,’ Charlotte responded tartly.

‘Perhaps they weren’t under her bed when the flat was searched. We just don’t know,’ he pointed out.

There was a moment’s silence before Verity said, ‘There’s another thing I’ve found out, Edward – about Dannie. I know you’ll think I’m just being . . .
. spiteful or something but I was talking to a Party worker about Stille – you know how he keeps popping up and pretending to be one of us . . . stirring up trouble? I had to report what I
knew to the Party. Well, I was told something I didn’t really want to know.’ Verity took a deep breath: ‘They say she works for Stille – Dannie, I mean. It may be she was at
Haling as Stille’s agent.’

Verity knew she did not need to spell it out to Edward that she was suggesting Dannie might have slept with him on Stille’s orders just so she could be near Molly’s room, steal the
letters and murder her to stop her talking.

What Verity had said did not greatly surprise Edward. He had resigned himself to the knowledge that Dannie had used him and, though he was inclined to think she had not killed Molly, he did
believe her to be capable of it. She was a ruthless woman, of that he had no doubt.

‘I didn’t know she was a Nazi but what you say doesn’t altogether surprise me. But what you don’t explain, Verity, is why she should kill Molly. Look at it logically. The
Nazis are hand in glove with the King and Mrs Simpson – we can’t doubt that – so surely it’s in their interests to protect his reputation?’