Murder Has No Class (14 page)

“I hope so.” Felicity frowned. “So far everything we’ve heard has only raised more questions.”

“ I tell you, Meredith,” Essie put in, “your ghost is not going to cross over, or whatever it’s called, unless you can find someone who really knows what happened in the library that night.”

“You’re right.” Meredith sighed. “But I’m afraid that the only one who knows what really happened is the person who shot Lord Stalham, and something tells me that person is not about to come up to me and confess.”

Essie gave her a worried smile. “I do fear that you might be haunted by James forever.”

Chapter 11

Meredith led the way around the corner to where Reggie had left the carriage. Spirit tossed his head impatiently as she approached, but she could see no sign of Reggie. “He must be in the stables,” she said as Felicity and Essie joined her. “That will give me an excuse to talk to the stable boy. Both of you wait here for me. I shan’t be long.”

“Why can’t we come along?”

Essie pouted, and Felicity nudged her with her elbow. “Do you really want to go in that nasty, smelly place, with your skirts sweeping through God knows what hidden in the filthy straw?”

Essie’s frown disappeared. “Well, now that you mention it, I think I’ll wait in here.” With a nod at Meredith she lifted her skirts and stepped up into the carriage.

“I didn’t think so.” Looking smug, Felicity added, “Try not to be too long. I’m starving to death.”

“I’ll be as fast as I can.” Holding up the hem of her own skirt, Meredith hurried toward the stable.

Just as she got there, Reggie appeared in the entrance, looking flustered. “Sorry, m’m. Didn’t realize you were done talking, did I. I’ll be right along.”

“That’s all right, Reggie.” Meredith smiled. “I just want a quick word with the stable boy. Is he in there?”

Reggie turned his head and glanced behind him. “What, Jimmy? No, he’s not . . .”

His voice trailed off as a tall, lanky lad strolled out into the sunshine. “Someone asking for me?”

Reggie looked even more flustered. The reason was obvious, since Jimmy held a pack of playing cards in one hand, and some pound notes in the other. “Oh, you are there, then.” Reggie looked back at Meredith with a sickly grin. “Didn’t see him there in the glare of the sun.”

Meredith decided the question of Reggie’s gambling could be postponed. “Wait for me in the carriage,” she ordered.

With a last look at Jimmy, Reggie bolted across the yard.

“My name is Mrs. Llewellyn,” Meredith began, and Jimmy nodded.

“Yes, I know. Reggie told me all about you.”

“Oh?” Though sorely tempted, Meredith decided that it might be wiser not to ask. “Well, I was wondering if you could tell me about the night Lord Stalham was shot.”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder, then frowned at her. “Why should I, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Again Meredith wondered just what Reggie had told the young man. She’d had to rely on her maintenance man’s discretion more than once, and Reggie had been sworn to secrecy about her activities concerning certain nefarious events. Just how far she could trust him remained to be seen.

“Let us just say I have a vested interest in what happened that night.”

Jimmy’s brow wrinkled even further. “Vested?”

Meredith sighed. She hated the falsehood she had perpetrated, but it seemed she had no choice. She could only hope the end justified the means. “I’m thinking of purchasing this property, and I’d rather there weren’t any secrets about this place.”

Jimmy’s brow cleared. “Oh, well, it ain’t no secret, m’m. It were all in the newspaper so I don’t see no harm in speaking up about it now. Lord Stalham, James, that is—he was a lord such a short time it don’t seem right to call him one. He didn’t become a lord, you see, until his father died, and then he died himself shortly afterward so it were sort of wasted on him, weren’t it. Now his father, that was a different matter. Everyone called him Lord Stalham, which is why it were hard to call James that, ’cos we were so used to—”

“You were going to tell me about that night,” Meredith cut in, a little desperately. It seemed that Jimmy liked the sound of his own voice, and his steady stream of words seemed unstoppable.

Jimmy looked offended. “Well, I was just coming to that, wasn’t I. It was like this. I was half asleep, upstairs on me bed, when I heard the sound of horse hooves. The dogs started barking and carrying on and I thought, blimey, who’s this coming in here so bleeding late at night?” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, m’m. Didn’t mean to swear. It just sort of slipped out, it did.”

“That’s quite all right, Jimmy,” Meredith murmured. “Please, do go on.”

“Yes, well.” Jimmy tucked the pound notes into his back pocket then, without even looking at them, he started flipping the cards back and forth through his fingers.

No wonder Reggie lost his money, Meredith thought. He should have known better. This young man was obviously an expert with the playing cards.

“Well,” Jimmy said, “at first I thought I’d pretend I didn’t hear anything so as I could go back to sleep. I was comfortable, you see, and I didn’t want to have to get up and get dressed and go downstairs and stable the horse and than have to wait for whoever it was to be done with their business, and then I’d just get settled again and I’d have to go down and get the horse out again and see them off before I could go back to bed. It didn’t make no sense to me at all. I mean, I’d been working all day and—”

“So then you must have changed your mind,” Meredith said firmly.

Jimmy clamped his mouth shut and for a moment she was afraid he wouldn’t say anything else. She was about to apologize for interrupting when he said abruptly, “Well, yes, I did. I got up and looked out of the window.”

Meredith let out her breath. “Did you recognize the visitor?”

Jimmy hesitated, and she could tell he was keeping her in suspense, no doubt to punish her for being so impatient with him.

At long last, just as she was ready to give up, he muttered, “Well, I could see she was a woman. She was walking fast and by the time I looked out she was at the corner of the house.”

“But did you recognize her?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Well, it were dark, weren’t it, with only a sliver of a moon. Didn’t give out too much light. You need a full moon to see properly across this yard. Besides, she were quite far away and she had her back to me. It was really hard to see from here.”

With a supreme effort Meredith held on to her tongue and waited.

Finally Jimmy relented. “Then, just as the lady reached the corner, she turned sideways and the moon lit up her face. Her hat put part of it in shadow, but I saw enough to recognize her. It were Miss Pauline Suchier. Lord Howard’s paramour, so they say.”

“I see.” Meredith strained to keep the triumph out of her voice. “Did you see her leave?”

Jimmy’s eyebrows lifted. “Leave? No, I didn’t.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I heard the bobbies come, and then I heard them leave again with Lord Stalham—James, that is. But I don’t remember hearing Miss Suchier leave. Though her horse was gone when I went down to see what all the fuss was about with the bobbies. I must have been asleep when she left.”

“Well, thank you, Jimmy. You have been most helpful.” Meredith turned away, but Jimmy’s next words halted her.

“Did you by any chance talk to Mrs. Parker about what happened that night?”

“Yes, I did.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Why do you ask?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I was just wondering, that’s all. She wasn’t exactly cut up over the master’s death, you know. Lord Howard Stalham, that is.”

Very slowly, Meredith twisted around to face him. “Mrs. Parker disliked Lord Stalham?”

Jimmy made a face. “Not disliked, m’m. Hated him, she did. For what he did to her son.”

“Her son?”

“Yes, m’m. Her son, Edward. He was the stable lad before me. Lord Stalham gave him a terrible beating one day. It took Edward three days before he could walk and the minute he got on his feet he scarpered.”

Meredith frowned. “Scarpered?”

Jimmy nodded. “Vamoosed. You know. Ran away. I don’t think Mrs. Parker will ever forget that.”

Casting her mind back, Meredith recalled her conversation with the housekeeper. Of course. She should have realized. Mrs. Parker had said that the stable boy
still
had the scars of that beating. How would she know that, months later, unless she had seen him? Why didn’t she mention that he was her son?

Meredith sighed. There were more twists and turns to this mystery than she could fathom. After thanking Jimmy again, she made her way over to the carriage, where Felicity and Essie waited for her. Reggie sat on his seat in the carriage, reins in his hand.

“I was just coming to look for you,” Felicity said, her voice short with impatience. “Essie and I are just about ready to faint from hunger.”

“I could use something to eat meself,” Reggie put in, as he jumped down to open the carriage door. “How about us all going down to the Dog and Duck for a pint and a sandwich?”

Felicity’s eyes lit up, but Meredith shook her head. “Mrs. Wilkins has supper ready for us in the kitchen,” she said, as she climbed up onto her seat. “We can’t possibly let such good food go to waste.”

“Right ho. Perhaps another time.” With a cheerful grin, Reggie slammed the door.

“Does he know why we are visiting the estate?” Felicity asked in a whisper. “He hasn’t asked, but he must wonder what we are doing here.”

“I’ve just told him we’re looking over the property, but I think he’s guessed I’m working on an investigation.” Meredith settled her back against the seat with another sigh. It had been a long day.

Felicity gave her a sharp look. “Are you quite sure that’s wise?”

“He’s fully aware that now and then, I have reason to make enquiries about certain . . . ah . . . delicate matters. He’s always been quite willing to go along without asking too many questions. If you remember, he was most helpful the last time we were involved in similar circumstances.”

“Well, then, tell us what you found out from the stable boy.”

Meredith recounted everything she’d learned.

“Lord Howard sounds like an ogre,” Essie said, “though we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Still, it seems there were a lot of people who had reason to despise him.”

“It does indeed,” Meredith agreed.

“So, there
were
two visitors there that night.” Felicity’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “The paramour and the wife. How very interesting.”

Meredith frowned. “Mrs. Parker, however, insisted the dogs barked only twice before the constables arrived, which would mean only one person came and went.”

“That’s right.” Felicity shook her head. “So if Mrs. Parker is telling the truth, either Winnie or Jimmy must have been mistaken. On the other hand, perhaps both Jimmy and Winnie were telling the truth and
both
Lady Clara and Miss Suchier were there. Mrs. Parker could have slept through the dogs barking, just like the stable boy did.”

“Or,” Meredith said slowly, “supposing Miss Suchier left at the same time Lady Clara arrived, which was the second time the dogs barked, and then Lady Clara left when the constables arrived? Winnie said she saw Lady Clara just before the constables got there.”

Felicity thought about it, while Essie sat with a confused frown on her face. “That would work,” Felicity announced at last. “In which case, both Winnie and Jimmy would be right. If that’s so, I wonder if Lady Clara saw Miss Suchier leaving the premises and realized that her husband was engaged in a little hanky-panky.”

“It’s possible. It would certainly give her a motive for shooting her husband.”

Felicity nodded. “As William Congreve said in his immortal words, ‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.’ ”

“Precisely. I do feel that either Miss Suchier or Lady Clara could have shot Lord Stalham. Since both of them would certainly have been wearing gloves, that would have eliminated the need to clean the gun and presumably given either one of them time to leave the room before Smithers arrived.”

Essie gasped, while Felicity chuckled. “Well done, Meredith. It makes perfect sense. The killer could certainly have been wearing gloves when she took hold of the gun, and the only people likely to be wearing them would be those two ladies. You are quite getting the hang of this detective business, aren’t you.”

Meredith shook her head. “There are no real conclusions to all this, just a lot of guesses and possibilities. I don’t know how Inspector Dawson does this for a living. All this brainstorming gives me quite a headache.”

“There’s just one thing,” Essie said, surprising her friends. “I have never met Lady Clara, of course, but would a mother allow her own son to die to cover up her own sins? I would think she would have to be an extraordinarily cruel and heartless woman to do such a terrible thing.”