Murder Has No Class (20 page)

Sending up another desperate prayer, Grace followed her inside. Pure bedlam greeted her as she stood in the doorway, trying to adjust once more to the gloom.

Men were pushing and shoving to get near the students, who seemed to be having a marvelous time, drinking from the beer glasses, chattering, laughing, and generally behaving in a most unladylike manner.

It occurred to Grace that should Mrs. Llewellyn find out about this, she’d flip her wig. Obviously Olivia’s plan to smash all the glasses had failed miserably, and the best thing they could do was get the students out of the pub before they got into real trouble.

As it was, Grace could see the bartender ordering the girls off the premises, which fell on deaf ears, thanks to the loud protests of the men.

The sound of smashing glass turned her head. Unable to get near the tables because of the crush of men, Olivia had begun seizing tankards from over the bar. With a howl of protest, the bartender lunged for her, knocking the tankard from her hand to the floor. One more glass shattered.

Now the bartender was hollering at everyone to get out, holding onto Olivia’s arms so she couldn’t reach for any more glasses. Grace started forward to help her, but just then a stern voice spoke from right behind her.

“ ’ Allo, ’allo! What’s going on here, then?”

Turning, Grace met the disbelieving gaze of P.C. Shipham.

It was all too much for her. Closing her eyes, she let darkness overtake her and fell to the floor.

 

 

Meredith alighted from the carriage outside the Witcheston police station with a certain amount of pleasurable anticipation, not entirely due to the glass of cider she’d enjoyed at the Pig and Whistle.

She treasured her rare encounters with the quiet-spoken inspector. A refreshing change from her volatile and somewhat discomfiting sessions with Stuart Hamilton.

She could relax and enjoy the conversation when in the inspector’s presence, and that pleased her greatly. The fact that she also harbored a maternal instinct when she was with him was something she was reluctant to acknowledge.

True, the man’s gaunt frame suggested he wasn’t consuming enough good meals, and his expression often suggested he was weighed down by problems, no doubt connected to his work. Meredith suspected he had no wife to take care of his needs, but so far had lacked the courage to ask, since it was none of her business, anyway.

In fact, she had no idea why she should worry about him so. She hardly knew him, yet somehow he aroused her protective nature, and she invariably felt the urge to invite him to Bellehaven for a good meal and a relaxing glass of brandy.

It was odd, since to her knowledge Stuart Hamilton had no wife either, yet she had not wasted one minute of concern about his welfare. Probably because he gave every indication of being thoroughly capable of taking care of himself.

Seeing the inspector’s smile as she entered his office raised her spirits. He greeted her warmly, and guided her to a comfortable chair before returning to his desk.

“It is always such a pleasure to see you, Meredith.” He leaned back and folded his hands across his chest. “To what do I owe this most welcome visit? Not bad news, I trust?”

“Not exactly, Inspector.” She set her handbag down by her feet. “I actually came to ask for your advice.”

“Ah.”

His eyes were green today—something else about him that fascinated her. Sometimes his eyes appeared to be blue, sometimes green, and although she could see the warmth in them when he looked at her, she could also detect a tinge of sadness, as if he had suffered a great loss. Maybe that was why she felt so sympathetic toward him.

Aware that she had been staring at him for far too long, she lowered her gaze. “It’s about the murder of Lord Stalham.”

The silence that greeted her announcement brought up her head. She could see that she’d shocked him, and wished she’d phrased her revelation a little less bluntly.

“That case is closed.” Dawson frowned. “Lord Stalham’s son, James, was convicted and hanged for the crime.”

“Yes, I read the account of the trial in the newspaper.”

“And so?”

With his watchful gaze on her face, she began to feel a little uncomfortable. She hadn’t thought through exactly what she would say to him. After all, she could hardly explain about James’s ghost, and how she came to suspect he had been innocent of the crime. Now that the moment was here, she hardly knew how to begin.

Curiosity crept into Edward Dawson’s eyes as he continued to watch her. “Do you have something new in the case? Is that what you want to tell me?”

She let out her breath on a sigh. “I know this is going to sound odd to you, but I have reason to believe that James Stalham might not have been responsible for his father’s death. Which means the real killer is alive and well, and has escaped justice.”

Dawson’s eyebrows almost disappeared in his hairline. “You have evidence to that effect?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” She leaned forward. “I have, however, talked to the servants at the estate, and I know that Smithers omitted certain evidence when he gave his testimony on the stand.”

“And that is?”

“He failed to testify that someone else was in the house that night. Miss Pauline Suchier.”

To her surprise, the inspector nodded. “Yes, we are aware of that. Miss Suchier came to me and confessed that she had been present at the house that evening. She also had proof that she left there again, at least an hour before Lord Stalham was shot.

“Rather than reveal a notorious scandal, which would have served no purpose, seeing that Lord Stalham was deceased, we allowed the evidence to be left out of Smithers’s testimony.”

“Oh.” Deflated, Meredith sank back on her chair. It seemed her theory about Pauline being the killer was false. But she continued to wonder about Lady’s Clara’s possible role, though everyone seemed determined to protect Lady Clara. Who, she wondered, had cared enough about James to protect him? She thought about telling the inspector that Winnie had seen Lady Clara in the house that night.

But had she? Winnie could have lied about that, but then why would she? There would be no point, considering that the case was over and James had paid for the crime. Unless she, too, believed that James wasn’t guilty.

So, if James was innocent, and Winnie was telling the truth, that would mean his mother might well have killed his father. Yet Meredith still couldn’t bring herself to believe that Lady Clara could stand by and watch her son die for her. No, it simply didn’t make sense.

Winnie had to be mistaken. Perhaps it was Pauline Suchier she saw that night. There it was again . . . something else Winnie had said. If only she could remember.

Chapter 16

Aware that Inspector Dawson had spoken to her, Meredith shook off her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Inspector, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Again he smiled. “You seem preoccupied, Meredith. Is something worrying you? Why are you really here?”

“I don’t know.” She raised her hands and let them drop again. “I feel as though a grave miscarriage of justice has occurred, but unfortunately I have nothing to base my opinion on except instincts, and I have to admit, those are not very reliable.”

Dawson leaned forward, his eyes now grave. “Even if that were so, I would need concrete evidence to support the theory, without which it would be impossible to launch another investigation.”

“I understand.” She reached for her handbag and stood. “I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.”

Dawson rose swiftly to his feet and hurried around his desk.

“My dear Meredith, I can assure you, my time with you is never wasted. In fact, why don’t you stay a while longer and share a pot of tea with me.”

Still troubled, she smiled up at him. “There’s nothing I’d like better, Inspector—”

“Edward, please.”

“Edward, then. I’m sorry, but I promised my tutors I would meet them in Crickling Green at two o’clock and it must be close to that now.”

Dawson pulled a pocket watch from his vest pocket and peered at it. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said, tucking the watch back in his pocket. “Perhaps next time you will be able to stay longer.”

“I should like that.” She headed for the door and waited for him to open it.

Instead, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. “One question, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“What reason exactly do you have to question James Stalham’s conviction?”

She hesitated. “I am acquainted with a close member of the family, who has serious doubts about what actually happened that night. Speaking with the servants, I found there to be some severely conflicting statements, which leads me to wonder just who is telling the truth, and who is hiding it.”

He frowned, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “If you should happen across something concrete that I could use to reopen the investigation, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.”

“Of course I shall.”

He reached for her hand, and raised it to his lips. “Until we meet again, then, Meredith.”

Even through the fabric of her gloves, his touch burned, long after she had left him and was on her way back to the village.

Back in her carriage, as the fields and hedges sped by, she chided herself for her immature response. She allowed herself to be far too affected by the casual attentions of a man. Both Edward and Stuart seemed able to throw her into confusion with just a few words, a penetrating glance, and the touch of their lips on her hand.

They were two very different men, both with the ability to disturb her peace of mind. She had been too long without such consideration from the male species, she decided. Being completely surrounded by females day in and day out obviously took its toll.

Yes, she missed male companionship, but if she were completely honest, she would not trade her life for any other.

Not for all the Stuarts and Edwards in the world. She enjoyed her independence, such as it was, and the freedom to think, act, and accept anything she chose. It was a good life, rewarding and enjoyable, doing what she loved. There were not too many women who could claim as much.

Arriving at the village green, Reggie brought the carriage to a stop behind the bandstand. The chairs in front of the circular structure were filled with mostly ladies. A sea of wide-brimmed hats trimmed with feathers, flowers, and baubles almost hid their owners from view.

The orchestra, resplendent in their dark blue uniforms with gold epaulettes and gold-trimmed caps, played with rather more enthusiasm than skill, but the result was quite stirring, nevertheless.

Standing at the edge of the grass, Meredith scanned the green for a glimpse of Felicity and Essie. The sun was warm enough to be felt through the cotton sleeves of her shirtwaist. Reggie had already taken the carriage to a more sheltered spot, where Spirit could enjoy a rest while his driver partook in the festivities.

Meredith made her way to the center of the green, where a crowd stood watching the dancers skip around the maypole skillfully weaving in and out with their colorful ribbons. Neither Felicity nor Essie seemed to be anywhere in sight, and Meredith began to wonder, since she had arrived a little late, if perhaps they had decided she wasn’t going to join them after all and had wandered off elsewhere.

She was about to seek out Reggie and ask him to take her back to the school when she heard someone calling her name. Turning, she saw Essie hurrying across the grass, one hand holding onto her hat, the other clutching her skirt.

Red-faced with exertion, she reached Meredith and came to a stumbling halt. “The girls are in trouble,” she said, panting for breath.

Concerned now, Meredith took hold of her arm and drew her into the shade of an ancient, twisted oak. “Take your time, Essie, and tell me what’s happened.”

“The girls!” Essie gulped and grasped Meredith’s hand so tightly it hurt. “Oh, Meredith. The students. They’ve all been arrested!”

 

 

“I told you!” Grace sat shivering in the back room of the police station, her stomach knotted with anxiety. “I told you we’d get caught. What if we get the sack? What am I going to do without a job or somewhere to live? It’s all right for you, Olivia, you have relatives you can go to, but I have nobody. I’ll end up in the workhouse, I will.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “For pity’s sake, Grace, stop your whining and let me think.”

“Think? I think you’ve done enough thinking to last a lifetime. Why don’t you listen to me? Why do you always have to go off and—”

Olivia leaned closer to Grace’s ear. “Shut
up
! You’re driving me bonkers. Wilky will get us out of this. She always does.”

“Not this time. This time it isn’t just us what got into trouble. It’s a bunch of students as well. Mona won’t stand for that. I tell you, Olivia. This is the end of it. We’ll lose our jobs over this.”