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Authors: Carola Dunn

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BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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“Daisy, is this relevant?”
“Yes, darling, I'm not just reminiscing. You'll see where it's leading in a moment. Where was I?”
“The miserly fires,” he said dryly.
“Yes, well, that was a slight digression,” she admitted. Tom, winking at her, ostentatiously ran a line through his last note. “To resume: Jemima brought her father's outdoor clothes, among which were a hand-knitted woollen pompon hat, striped in grey and blue, and matching mittens. Felicity told me later that Jemima had knitted them for him, and his muffler, also grey and blue, and the waistcoat, which was green and clashed horribly.”
Ignoring the irrelevant waistcoat, Alec said, “Yes, but anyone could have worn the mittens.”
“I'm aware of that,” Daisy retorted. “They'd have got in the way on most people though. Look at it.” They all studied the mitten on the table in front of Alec. He placed his hand beside it. It was half an inch longer. “Godfrey has
hands almost as big as Victor's,” Daisy went on, “only you don't notice them so much because they're thin and sort of
etiolated
.”
“My superior vocabulary doesn't stretch to ‘etiolated,'” Tom confessed.
“Nor does mine, really,” she assured him, “but I remember it from having to look it up when I read
Jane Eyre
at school. It means pale and limp, doesn't it, darling? Rather feeble-looking. Whereas the captain's hands are brown and strong, and Miles's are quite a bit smaller.”
“So the captain might have borrowed them.”
“He might, but if he killed on unplanned impulse, why should he wear gloves at all? Not to protect against leaving fingerprints, and he's not the sort to worry about the cold.”
“That he's not,” Tom agreed. “Seamen have a sight worse to put up with than a winter's night in Cornwall. Come to think of it, I doubt he'd care much for mittens. They need the use of all their fingers aboard ship.”
“All right, Daisy, it's unlikely—but not impossible—that Captain Norville borrowed his brother's mittens. What's next?”
“I'll have to jump back a few hours now, because it was the boatman who brought me up the Tamar who mentioned the chapel in the woods. While I was outside with Godfrey, I asked about it and he told me the story of the first baronet's escape.”
“What's that, Mrs. Fletcher?” Tom asked.
“Didn't you notice the sign over the chapel door?”
“Can't say I did. Too high for dabs,” he pointed out.
“Nor did I,” said Alec.
Daisy glanced at him. “It's not strictly relevant.”
“Never mind, let's have it,” he said resignedly.
She told them about the cap thrown into the river to make Sir Richard's enemies think he had drowned. “He hid in the bushes nearby till they went off. Anyway, it's a good story and I decided to put it in my article, so I thought I might take a picture of the chapel. I asked Godfrey to show me the way, but he was absolutely horrified at the idea of walking in the woods in winter. He said it was damp and I'd catch my death of cold. He refused to go, said he never went near the place in the winter.”
“Sounds to me like that knocks him right out of the running,” said Tom.
“Yes, Daisy, that's evidence for the defence.”
“It may be, of course. But if you were to find leaf-mould on his shoes or galoshes …”
“He'll have cleaned them,” said Tom.
“I doubt it. He doesn't strike me as the sort to clean his own shoes. I bet Dora or Jemima usually does them. If he worried about the leaf-mould at all, he wouldn't want them to see it, so he'd probably just quietly put them away and try to forget them.”
“If he's hidden them in the old house,” said Alec grimly, “we'd never find them.”
“But the servants would, and that would really set the cat among the pigeons. I'd try the back of the coat cupboard in the entrance hall or his wardrobe.”
“It's possible. Tom?” Alec gestured with his head towards the door. “And keep your eyes open for the other mitten.”
“No search warrant, Chief. Mr. Tremayne'll jump on it.”
“I took the precaution of asking Lord Westmoor's permission to make any necessary searches when I spoke to
him on the telephone. It'll have to do. We haven't a hope of getting a warrant today.”
“Right, Chief. What about the second mitten?”
“That, if I'm not altogether mistaken,” said Daisy, “you'll find under the mattress of Jemima's camp cot, in Felicity's room.”
“Right, Mrs. Fletcher.” The sergeant went out.
Alec regarded Daisy in silence, shaking his head.
“What is it, darling?” she asked anxiously. “Do you think I'm altogether mistaken?”
“No, love, or I wouldn't have wasted Tom's time. One factor we haven't gone into is that Godfrey has been the most fidgety of the lot of them since the murder.”
“He's really upset that Miles didn't tell him about Westmoor's heir being killed,” said Daisy, trying to be fair.
“Why?”
“Why? Because his son … Oh, I see what you mean. Because if he was going to be earl some day, then even if he was chucked out now, some day Brockdene would actually belong to him. If he'd known, he would never have killed Calloway.”
“Exactly. Though it's all circumstantial, your theory makes more sense than most. Even if Tom finds the shoes, it's not proof, but it's more than enough to tackle Godfrey with some hard questions. The motive has always been the sticking point in this case, and you've provided one that's believable.” Alec stood up. “I must try and get corroboration from the captain that that's what they quarrelled about.”
“
I
never told you that's what they quarrelled about,” Daisy said virtuously. “It's pure speculation, which you're
always exhorting me to avoid. But all the same, assuming your guess is the same as mine, I bet we're right. What are you going to do with the mitten? You can't leave it here for anyone to pinch.”
“Would you mind dealing with it, love? We don't want the servants speculating about it, so put it in Nana's scullery, out of her reach, while you get hold of some brown paper or whatever they use in the kitchen. Then make a parcel and lock it in one of our suitcases.”
“Ugh! It can go in your suitcase. Right-oh. What about the cami-knickers?”
“Those,” said Alec, “can go in the dustbin.”
A
lec glanced into the library, where Miles was studying some legal papers. “Do you know where the captain is?” he asked.
Miles jumped up and came towards him, saying in horror, “You don't believe Uncle Victor murdered Calloway?”
“I don't know who murdered Calloway. I have a few questions for your uncle, that's all.”
“Oh, right-ho. He and my grandfather went outside for a pipe and a cigar, respectively.” He waved at the east-facing window.
Alec found the captain and Tremayne pacing the upper terrace, smoking in silent companionship, their boots crunching on the gravel.
“I'd like a word with you, Captain Norville,” he said.
“By all means,” said the captain guardedly.
Tremayne laid a hand on his arm. “Victor, do you wish me to act for you?” he said, his face grave.
“It's good of you to offer, sir, but I don't reckon I need a lawyer, not having done anything wrong. Scotland Yard's got the best detectives in the world, and knowing the chief
inspector here personally, it's my opinion he won't arrest an innocent man.”
“I'm not about to arrest you,” Alec affirmed. “Just a question or two.”
“Be careful what you say,” Tremayne warned, “and call me if you need me.” He went to stand with his back to them, gazing down over the gardens towards Calstock and the peace and quiet of his office.
Victor Norville faced Alec squarely. “At your service, Fletcher.”
“It was very much in your interest to keep Calloway alive, as long as he was prepared to testify in your mother's favour. However, he was obviously having second thoughts. Did he give you a decision?”
“Why, no. It's what he went off to the chapel for, to pray for guidance, wasn't it?”
“You must have been very anxious to hear what he decided. Anxious enough to go after him.”
“That I did not!” the captain roared. “And if I had, and he'd told me he'd decided against us, the last thing I'd do would be to kill him before I had a chance to change his mind!”
“Unless you lost your temper.”
Unexpectedly, the captain grinned. “Yes, I've got a temper. Always have, since I was a child. If I'd had a father, I dare say it'd have been beaten out of me at an early age. As it was, my mother's tears were just as effective. As soon as I was old enough to realize how much I upset her, I stopped lashing out when I lost my temper. I've been in rough parts of the world, and there are times when a fist in the face is the only answer, but I haven't hit anyone in a fit of temper since I bloodied God's nose when I was six.”
Momentarily confused, Alec had a sudden, brief vision of Blake's
Ancient of Days
being socked on the nose by Captain Norville because he gave Calloway's prayers the wrong response. But of course, “God” was what the captain irreverently called his brother. He had given Alec the perfect opening for the questions he really wanted to ask.
“So you and your brother didn't come to blows when you quarrelled the other day,” he commented dryly. “What was that all about?”
“Oh, God was furious that I'd brought Calloway. He's a selfish, shortsighted fool. He never gave a thought to Mother's feelings. All he cared about was that he'd have to leave his precious Brockdene. He's been immured in this museum too long. So have my mother and my nieces, and I've a good mind to take them away anyway. I can afford to keep the lot of them, and so I told him.”
“But all he cared about was that he'd have to leave Brockdene,” Alec repeated.
“He's obsessed with …” The captain's voice trailed off and he gave Alec a grim look. “Well, I've said it. I suppose you'll be asking me to make an official statement and to give sworn evidence in court against my own brother.”
“Possibly. Will you?”
“Possibly. I'll have to think about it.”
“Just remember, Captain,” Alec said, “that if we don't catch Calloway's murderer, everyone in this house will be regarded with suspicion for the rest of their lives. Think about that.”
“This cursed house,” the captain muttered as Alec turned away.
When Alec stepped through the front door into the entrance hall, Dora Norville was staring with a puzzled frown
at something to his right. Following her gaze, he saw a vast maroon-and-green checked backside protruding from the coat cupboard. Tom moved back on his knees until he was clear of the coats, then turned as he rose to his feet. In one hand was a pair of galoshes.
Seeing Dora, he asked, “Your husband's, madam?”
“Yes, those are Godfrey's. I wonder why he put them away dirty? I'd better clean them.” She held out her hand.
Tom shook his head. “Sorry, madam, I can't let you have them just now.”
Alec took a pace forward. Tom turned the galoshes over to present the soles. Rich, dark brown leaf-mould clung in every groove of the patterned soles. Alec wished he had tried harder to find footprints near the chapel.
“Tucked in there right at the back,” said Tom.
Alec took out his handkerchief. “Wrap them up, Sergeant.”
Fright crept into Dora's eyes. “W-what … ?” She moistened her lips. “Godfrey never goes into the woods. They must belong to someone else.”
“Who?” Alec asked gently.
“Not Miles! Miles always wears boots.” She glanced beyond Alec and moaned.
Captain Norville and Tremayne had both come in behind Alec. Their feet displayed, respectively, a pair of salt-stained sea-boots and a pair of sturdy countryman's boots.
Tremayne looked at Alec's face and moved to take his daughter's arm. “Come with me, Dora.”
He led her away unresisting. Her tortured expression hurt Alec. Why did people never consider the effect on their nearest and dearest when they took it into their heads to commit murder?
“If it's all right with you, Fletcher,” said the captain gruffly, “I'll take Miles for a walk down to the Quay.”
Alec nodded. “Don't be too long though. I'll need statements.”
The captain opened the library door and stuck his head into the room. “Miles, I do believe those wretches have sold me dried kelp instead of tobacco. It's unsmokable. D'you want to walk down to the Quay with me to have it out with 'em?”
“Yes, I'll come, Uncle Vic. Half a tick.”
Before Miles appeared, Alec hustled Tom through the glass door and along the passage towards the dining room. “Daisy went to the kitchen to ask for some wrapping paper for the mitten,” he said. “I expect we'll find her in the puppy's scullery.”
“The second mitten was just where she said, Chief. I've got it in my pocket. No blood on it that I can see, but the dog's chewed it up pretty thoroughly.”
“If the children can identify it as one of the items they retrieved from the woods, it might be useful to be able to prove that both of the pair were there. Was Miss Norville in her room when you searched it?”
“No. I think she was in the lav.”
When they reached the scullery, Daisy looked round, grinning as they fended off Nana's enthusiastic greetings. “Sorry I've been so long, darling. First I found that Nana had managed to pull the sack of ‘clues' off the draining board and scattered them in bits and pieces all over the place. Then when I'd cleared up the mess, I discovered I'd forgotten to ask for string, so I had to go back and get some. I'm on the last knot.” She presented a neat brown-paper parcel. “I took some extra paper just in case.”
“We have the other mitten and the galoshes,” said Alec, setting down the handkerchief-wrapped bundle on the draining board.
“Darling, your hankie!” she said reproachfully. “Oh dear, it looks as if it's true, doesn't it? In a way it would be better if it had been the captain. Mrs. Norville would have been hurt still, but at least he doesn't have a wife and children.”
“Dora's guessed.”
“Oh, poor thing!” Daisy hesitated. “I wonder if I ought to go to her.”
“Tremayne is with her.” Alec metaphorically kicked himself as soon as the words were out. He could have got her out of the way without an argument.
“She won't need me, then. What's next? Did you talk to the captain, darling?”
“Yes. The quarrel was caused by Godfrey's objection to the captain's bringing Calloway to Brockdene, because his testimony would lead to the family's eviction.”
“Just as I guessed!” Daisy said triumphantly. “Are you going to tackle Godfrey next?”
“Yes,” said Alec, “and you're not coming.”
“But, darling …”
“Daisy, this isn't just a matter of interviewing a suspect. Godfrey is almost certainly the murderer, and it seems clear he murdered on impulse, certainly without careful planning. He may be dangerous. Your presence can only hinder us. At this point, you can best help by wrapping the galoshes and the second mitten and stowing them away safely, so that I don't have to waste time on it.”
“Right-oh, Chief,” she sighed, and took up a sheet of brown paper.
Alec and Tom went out into the Kitchen Court. “Norville's
probably up in the Drawing Room, as usual,” Alec said, leading the way to the door to the old house. Inside, though, he turned towards the Hall, not the stairs.
“Want me to go fetch him, Chief?”
“Not yet. I think we'd better first work out exactly how we're going to tackle him.” He perched on a corner of the long refectory table. “I want a confession if we can possibly extract one. Any lawyer worth his salt could easily persuade a jury to doubt everything we have so far. It's all …”
“Chief!” said Tom warningly.
Alec swung round. Jemima had just come through the archway at the far end of the Hall. She stopped at the sight of them, arms akimbo.
“I heard you,” she crowed. “I told Daddy you took his mittens and galoshes. He's gone away.” She glanced behind her. “You'll never catch him now!”
Before she finished speaking, Alec was running, Tom on his heels. Jemima, in the doorway, spread her arms wide. Alec picked her up and set her aside. They dashed through the dining room, along the passage, across the hall, and out of the front door.
Felicity stood at the top of the terrace steps, gazing down. Hearing their footsteps, she turned, frowning. “I say, what's going on? I was coming down the stairs and I saw Daddy putting on his coat and hat, and when I called to him he just waved and went out.”
“Did you see which way he went?” Alec demanded.
“Yes, he's just disappeared into the tunnel. Did you want … Oh lord, not Daddy?”
Her last words were addressed to their backs as Alec leapt and Tom trotted down the steps.
Emerging from the tunnel, Alec stopped by the carp
pond to scan the valley garden. No sign of their quarry. Evergreen shrubbery hid parts of the maze of paths, and the massive medieval dovecote blocked the view of a great section. He pounded down towards it, Tom right behind him.
As they rounded the dovecote, he saw Derek and Belinda coming up the hill, nearing a nexus where one path went off to the left and another forked to the right. Piper, just beyond them, was looking back over his shoulder.
“Uncle Alec, we saw Mr. Norville walking down the other path, that one over there, not the one we're on, and Mr. Piper called to him and he started running …”
“Thought I'd better see the kiddies home safe, Chief.”
“Quite right, but after him now.”
Piper spun round and ran.
“What's happening, Daddy?” Belinda asked anxiously.
“Go back to the house, you two.” He gestured to the left-hand path. “Tom, go that way, down to the northern gate, to cut him off in case he doubles back towards Calstock.”
Alec took the right-hand branch, which soon converged again with the path Piper was on. The detective constable in the lead, they sped on. Alec, who had run all the way from the house, began to fall behind.
“There he is, Chief! Just went through the gate. He's going towards the chapel.”
Towards the Quay, Alec thought, gasping for breath. Was Norville hoping to steal a boat?
When Piper reached the chapel he stopped and gazed along the track, which here veered sharply to the right, parallel to the river. Alec, puffing along, saw him turn full circle, then try the chapel door.
“Lost him, Ernie?”
“If he's scarpered into the woods, Chief, it'll take a dozen men to roust him out.”
Alec thought aloud. “He's not the sort to camp out in the woods, especially as it's coming on to rain. He'll make for either Calstock or the Quay, though what he's intending to do there I can't imagine. He can't have much cash, if any. It was sheer panic made him run. He may even come straight back to the house. But I'd rather not wait, if possible. Just make sure he's not hiding behind the chapel.”
BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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