Murder Goes Mumming (18 page)

“Sort of a—a joke thing.”

“Such as what?”

“Well, they had these bikini things with sayings on them. We just sort of thought it would be something Val would get a bang out of.”

“Yeah, Val always gets a bang out of her bikinis,” Winny giggled.

Janet primmed her mouth. “Madoc, how much of this am I supposed to be taking down?”

“Just that reminder about getting the police on to John Smith. Unless there’s something else these jolly boys would like to tell me, such as what Smith sells besides pot.”

“We wouldn’t know,” Franny insisted. “Honest, Inspector, we never made but that one buy, and we had to get one of the other guys who’s a regular customer to do it for us. We couldn’t even tell you what John Smith looks like. We’ve only seen him from a distance.”

“Don’t push it, Franny. I expect your memory will improve once you get back to school and have your little session with your friendly neighborhood fuzz. Run along to bed now, children. Ah, Ludovic, good timing.”

“I regret the delay, sir. The kitchen staff had retired and it was necessary to boil up a fresh kettle.”

“No matter, you’re just in time. Sit down and chat a bit. Jenny darling, you won’t mind if Ludovic and I happen to lapse into our native tongue on occasion?”

“Not at all. It will give me a chance to get used to the sound. Set that tray in front of me, Ludovic, and park yourself in the easy chair over there. You might just poke another stick into the stove on your way past, if you feel you’ve got to earn your keep. I don’t dare ask Madoc for fear he’ll put me behind bars.”

In a moment the three of them were toasting themselves most agreeably around the roaring stove, sipping the tea Janet poured out. This was the way to treat a Welshman no matter what his position, because there has never been a Welshman alive who has not known himself to be the equal of anybody and maybe a little more equal than some and be damned to them all though it would not be sound politics to say so. Ludovic the perfect butler, Ludovic the probable crook, became simply Ludovic, chatting with a knight’s son and receiving hospitality from the hand of the son’s lovely bride-to-be.

Perhaps the man was feeling a gentle melancholy that Janet’s loveliness could never be his to possess, but that would be part of the pleasure. Yearning for that which could never be attained was what made the Welsh bards such great poets. Being a cop and not a bard, Madoc spent a moment in silent rejoicing that his own satisfaction was within the price of a license, then got down to business.

“This has not been a typical Christmas Eve at Graylings would you say, Ludovic?”

“It has not, sir. I fear you and Miss Wadman will carry away no favorable impression to your distinguished parents. Squire will take that hard. He has been dreaming of having Sir Emlyn and perchance even Sir Caradoc under his roof one day.”

“Janet and I were not invited for our wit and charm alone?”

“Not you, sir.”

Janet gave the butler a look over the rim of her teacup. “Ludovic, how do the Condryckes feel about Val’s romance with Roy Robbins?”

“They hope it will be of short duration, miss.”

“Would Donald by any chance have got wind of the fact that Roy was chasing me around the typewriters not too long ago?”

“Mr. Donald takes a paternal interest in the company’s employees.”

“So the idea was that I should tumble back into Roy’s everloving arms as soon as he made another pass at me, which Donald knew he would because that’s the way Roy is. Val would then be able to get in her licks with Madoc, since she’d fluffed it with the elder brother, right?”

“They felt it was worth a shot, miss.”

Madoc cleared his throat. “As a matter of passing interest, so to speak, has Roy in fact made another pass at you?”

“Ask Ludovic,” Janet replied demurely.

“Mr. Robbins is exhibiting toward Miss Wadman the manner of a young man who has had his ears pinned back good and proper, sir.”

Rhys laughed. “We seem to have been a complete bust all around. Any more tea in the pot, love?”

“Pass your cup.”

Ludovic made no effort to assist in this small task, perhaps because he considered himself off-duty, perhaps because he divined that Madoc would use the excuse to sneak in a mildly surreptitious caress, which in fact was the case.

“How does the kitchen feel about the Donalds and Val?” Rhys asked when he’d got himself untangled and his cup refilled.

“As Squire explained earlier, there is little exchange between the staff and the nonresident members of the family. By and large, Mr. and Mrs. Donald are thought to be harmless enough. Miss Val is the subject of some discussion. The maid who does her room considers her lazy and untidy. Her relationships with the young men she brings up here have given rise to considerable ribaldry during the past few years. There is the feeling among some of the male employees that Miss Val could, as the saying is, be had but would not be worth the effort.”

Rhys’s wistful brown eyes turned involuntarily to his own ladylove. Ludovic noticed and smiled.

“Miss Wadman is in great favor with the staff. Her demeanor in the kitchen and her idiomatic command of the French tongue made a favorable impression on Fifine, the cook, who is a woman of power. Admiration was warmly expressed among the males, but the consensus is that a man would have to be
folle à la tête
to trifle with the affianced bride of Detective Inspector Madoc Rhys.”

“They know who I am?” said Rhys sharply.

“The information did not come from me, sir. After your capture of Mad Carew the Murdering Maniac of the Mirimachi, you are something of a legend in these parts. Is it true, sir, that you tracked that man of fiendish cunning and titanic strength one hundred twenty-seven miles through unbroken wilderness, armed only with a slingshot against a throwing knife, a double-bitted axe, and a high-powered hunting rifle?”

“The slingshot is apocryphal,” Rhys answered, greatly embarrassed by this adulation of a task that had been considered merely a routine assignment back at headquarters. “We are not supposed to rely on force of arms but on force of character. I just tagged along till Carew had got a blister on his heel and a fuzzy caterpillar down his back, then slipped the cuffs on him while he was resting his foot and trying to dislodge the bug. The hardest part was trying to read him his rights. I had to get the caterpillar out before he’d listen to me. You will please inform those lecherous hounds out there, however, that I am indeed a man to be reckoned with where my Janet is concerned. What’s the scuttlebutt on Clara and Lawrence?”

“Mrs. Clara is sometimes inclined to meddle. Mr. Lawrence is considered to have done himself well in marrying her and thus securing the large business connected with the Condrycke interests.”

“Does he have much other business?”

“I believe not. Most folk in these parts prefer to employ a French lawyer.”

“The Lawrences are at Graylings a great deal, are they not?”

“Far too often, in the opinions of the staff.”

“What do you think?”

Ludovic shrugged. “I should say Mrs. Clara wishes she were in her sister’s shoes, and possibly vice versa. Clara envies May her position as mistress of Graylings. I suspect May sometimes envies Clara’s being able to come here and enjoy the amenities, then go away and leave May stuck with the responsibility. Her position is a confining one, as you must realize, despite its many perquisites.”

“Squire expects a lot of May, does he?”

“Squire is an autocrat. He is an intelligent man who gave up whatever other opportunities he might have had to marry Miss Dorothy and settle down at Graylings, so he has tunneled all his talent and ambition into making a success of the venture, and he has succeeded. He has, I may say, more brains than any of his children. His is the brain that controls Donald’s activities in the company. He is quite aware of Donald’s limitations.”

“What are they?”

“Charm of manner, a good memory, an ability to look intelligent, and a marked lack of practical acumen. Donald is what is known, I believe, as a front man.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Janet. “Somebody once told me,” it had been Roy but she needn’t go into that, “Mr. Condrycke was the one they depended on to keep the customers’ wives happy. I assume that means he and Babs handle the entertainment part, giving dinners and so forth. Do they bring people to Graylings much?”

“Often. Squire relies on Donald for distinguished company.”

“And other things.” Janet smiled. “Too bad I let him down.”

“Only in one respect, miss. As a prospective member of the Rhys family, you would have been welcome in any case. Squire likes being surrounded by celebrities and persons of rank. Your name will no doubt be mentioned on any number of occasions, though your husband’s profession may not.”

“Well, I’m used to being talked about. In Pitcherville it happens to everybody. By now Sam Neddick must have told the whole town Janet Wadman’s fixed it up with that Mountie who pinched him in Moose Jaw.”

Her imitation of her brother’s hired man wasn’t too far off the mark. “They must be taking bets already about when the baby’s due. It’s going to come as a nasty shock to the ladies down at the Tuesday Club when they find out we haven’t jumped the gun.”

Ludovic laughed outright. He said something in Welsh and Madoc laughed, too.

“I’d better not translate that. She blushes easily. Getting back to Squire, any idea where he came from?”

“His origins are shrouded in obscurity, sir. By now, in my opinion, he’s managed to convince himself he is in truth a Condrycke. I have sometimes wondered whether he might once have been a member of a traveling theatrical company.”

“His penchant for pageantry?”

“Precisely, sir. I should venture to guess that he invests the role of squire with a good deal more grandeur than would be found, for instance, in your own family.”

“You wouldn’t be far wrong. My father’s about as awesome as a church mouse and my great-uncle is often mistaken for one of his own sheepmen. Squire must indeed be an able manager if he can handle a complexity of business interests and remember to be impressive at the same time. Does he ever slip? When one of his playful offspring is putting a rubber lizard down his back, for instance?”

“Putting rubber lizards down Squire’s back is not the done thing, sir. Mr. Cyril’s antics this evening were the first episode of anyone’s making sport of Squire that I can recall. I am bound to say that Squire handled the situation with a greater degree of tolerance than I should have expected.”

“What might he otherwise have done?”

“Thrown a temperament, which he manages with truly frightening dramatic effect, and banish Cyril from the revels.”

“Assuming that Cyril had not been suffering from a temporary mental aberration brought about, in my opinion, by the ingestion of drugs, would Cyril have allowed himself to be banished?”

“It has happened before, sir, though Mrs. May and Mr. Herbert are usually able to handle him well enough as they did at luncheon today, merely by letting him get drunk to the point of incapability. Mr. Cyril is not as a rule a boisterous drunk. His temperament leans more to the phlegmatic than the choleric.”

“You’ve never before seen him act as he did tonight?”

“Never, sir.”

“What did you think about it?”

“I thought Herbert’s lads had slipped something into his drink.”

“You know what they’ve been up to, then?”

“It’s part of my job to know what people are up to at Graylings, sir. And to keep my mouth shut about it, which I should normally do. You no doubt realize that I’m laying my job on the line by talking to you in this way. I am supposed to represent the feudal element among the paid help,” Ludovic added in a totally human tone.

“Your feudality is safe with Jenny and me, as you made damn sure it would be before you opened up,” Rhys answered. “Are they all in bed?”

“As to that I could not say, sir. The family are somewhat addicted to holding private conferences in each other’s bedrooms. I should venture to speculate that a certain amount of tiptoeing back and forth is still taking place.”

“We had some of that last night, too,” said Janet, cutting another sliver of fruitcake.

Ludovic was amused. “Miss Val’s having a thin time of it this trip. I trust you were not seriously incommoded, Miss Wadman?”

“It wasn’t the sort of thing I’ve been brought up to expect in decent people’s houses,” she replied in that prissy little way that so delighted her husband-to-be. “Back home it only happens in haylofts when the girl’s none too bright and the man’s none too particular. Maybe you’d better make up a bed for Madoc on the chesterfield here in case I have to evict him again.”

“I doubt I shall be sleeping much tonight,” said Rhys. “If I do, I shall lie across my Jenny’s threshold like a Russian serf in the time of the czars. Why do you think old Mrs. Condrycke was murdered, Ludovic?”

“I
BEG YOUR PARDON,
sir. Miss Adelaide was not a Condrycke. Her family name was Stebbins.”

“Thank you, but I am not referring to Miss Adelaide Stebbins. I meant her sister Rosa, who predeceased her by, I should say, just about twenty-four hours.”

“But Mrs. Condrycke—you—you did say murdered, sir?”

“The evidence indicates that Mrs. Rosa Stebbins Condrycke was assisted to her demise by violent methods.”

Ludovic was visibly rattled. “Is it permitted to ask by what methods, sir?”

“I should say she was smothered with a wet towel or something of the sort while under the influence of that pitcherful of wassail you took up to her.”

“Then you’re accusing me of …” Ludovic swallowed hard.

“Should I? You didn’t, did you?”

“I’m not a complete fool, sir.”

“I didn’t think you were. That’s why my Janet is pouring your tea. As a matter of professional curiosity, what were you sent up for?”

“Forgery, sir. I got into a spot of bother with the bookmakers. I was only a footman at the time,” Ludovic added by way of excuse. “Unfortunately, my then employer was in very deep water himself just then. My dipping into his bank account interfered with an elaborate system of check kiting he’d worked quite successfully for some while. He naturally welcomed the opportunity to cover his own maneuverings by accusing me of grand larceny. Being a sporting man himself, he then offered to rig an escape for me, thus allegedly confirming my guilt and getting him off the hook while saving myself a longish holiday at Her Majesty’s expense.