Something Wicked (27 page)

‘No, I can see that would have been impossible,’ Edward agreed. ‘And he never talked of regretting sending someone to their death?’ Miss Tiverton seemed puzzled. ‘I was just thinking of another VC – General Sir Alistair Craig whom I knew some years ago. He was killed by someone who believed he was a mass murderer, not a hero.’

Miss Tiverton looked bewildered and then angry. ‘The General did his duty,’ she said primly. ‘No one has ever said anything against his reputation as a soldier.’

Edward imagined these two lonely people looking back on their lives, waiting for death. She must have read his thoughts because she said sharply, ‘I hope you aren’t pitying me, Lord Edward, or the General. Both our lives have been lived to the full. I have taught several generations of children from this village to read and write and watched them grow into useful men and women. What more could a teacher ask?’

‘No, I wasn’t pitying you. Tell me, have you always lived here?’

‘All my life. I was born in this cottage. But please don’t think it means I have led a narrow, circumscribed life. I may not have travelled the world – as no doubt you have – but I have seen in this village a world of human and spiritual growth. Some tragedies, some failures but, on the whole, I have watched ordinary people deal bravely with whatever fate has thrown at them.’

‘I understand that, Miss Tiverton, and I can also see that you are an intelligent, strong-minded woman.’ Rather like Verity, he added to himself.

Taking no notice, she continued, ‘Since the war there have been thousands of . . . old maids, people call us, and we are despised, laughed at or – worst of all – pitied. We may not have married and had children but many of us have still managed to lead fulfilled lives.’

‘I don’t pity you, Miss Tiverton,’ Edward repeated. Changing the subject, he asked, ‘Are you sure the General had no relatives? Mrs Venables thought he might have had a nephew in Africa or Australia.’

‘I never heard him mention anyone. As far as I know, he had no relatives.’

‘No one ever visited him? No strangers, I mean?’

‘No. How many more questions have you got for me, Lord Edward? Really, I can tell you nothing.’

‘There’s just a couple more. I’m sorry to be a nuisance but no one knew the General as well as you.’ She nodded her head in acknowledgement. ‘When he went to London, do you know what he did there?’

‘We never discussed it although I know he went to his wine merchant. Unfortunately, I am ignorant about wine – I do not even like it – so I wasn’t able to talk intelligently to him about what he had purchased.’

‘I understand he went every month but, surely, he wouldn’t have needed to restock his wine cellar so frequently? He must have had a regular appointment with someone.’

‘If you are implying that the General might have had some . . . some woman in London, all I can say is that I don’t know and I don’t want to know.’

‘One last question, Miss Tiverton, and then I shall leave you in peace. Was he a native of these parts? Was he born in Hambledon?’

‘No, indeed! He retired here because his wife was from this part of the world and, when she died many years ago, he stayed.’

‘Do you happen to know where he came from originally?’

Edward wondered for a moment if she would say Norfolk but instead she replied, ‘His family came from Godalming, I believe.’

After leaving Miss Tiverton with many expressions of respect and gratitude, he went to see the vicar. He proved to be a breezy young man who had nothing much to offer in the way of information about the General.

‘I got on well enough with the old man. I used to tell him he drank too much and that he ought to get out more but he took no notice.’

‘Did he go to church?’

‘On high days and holidays – not every Sunday. He didn’t want to be taken up by the local worthies, I believe.’

‘And he got on well with Miss Tiverton?’

‘Yes, they were two tough old birds who respected each other. He liked it that she didn’t fuss over him – make cakes, that sort of thing – and I remember him telling me once that he respected her judgement.’

‘Were you surprised when you heard he had left her most of his estate?’

‘Not really. Who else had he got to leave it to? He left the church a thousand pounds – very generous and most welcome. God moves in mysterious ways.’ A thought struck him. ‘You don’t suspect Miss Tiverton of murdering him, do you?’

‘It had crossed my mind,’ Edward admitted.

‘That’s quite absurd! I’ve known her for some time, Lord Edward, and I can assure you that she is not the murdering kind.’

‘He’s buried here, in the churchyard?’

‘Yes. In fact, we reburied him two days ago. You know the police asked for him to be exhumed. It’s very sad. I have never had a body exhumed before.’

‘Did they tell you why?’

‘I understand they feared he might have been poisoned but really, Lord Edward, you should speak to Inspector Treacher about it.’

‘Of course! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Edward paused and then asked, ‘At his funeral – the original funeral – were there many people?’

‘A few villagers. Mrs Venables and Miss Tiverton, of course. He had no relatives that we know of.’

‘No strangers?’

‘None. Hold on, though, a wreath was left on the grave that no one admitted sending.’

‘Who delivered it?’

‘No one knows. We found it the day after the funeral. There was no card or anything.’

‘You don’t happen to know what the General did when he went to London? I know he went to see his wine merchant but that can’t have been the only reason?’

‘A woman, you mean?’ the vicar said with the easy frankness of the new, modern clergyman.

‘Well, I . . .’

‘The funny thing is when I did ask him once, he said he went to church. Somewhere in the City, I think he said.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Did he mention St Mary’s, Cripplegate? I rather think he did but I took him to be joking.’

‘That’s interesting. Did he ever say anything to you about death? Miss Tiverton told me she was sure he expected to die sooner rather than later.’

‘No, nothing.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘Although, now I come to think of it, I do remember – it must have been the last time I saw him – he quoted Abraham Lincoln. “We cannot escape our past.” Nor can we,’ he added with a shrug.

After interviewing the vicar, Edward called in at the police station as arranged where he found Treacher and Chief Inspector Pride exchanging information. Treacher, looking uncomfortable, seemed to greet him with relief as a welcome distraction from the interrogation he had been suffering at the hands of his grim-faced senior colleague. He looked even glummer when Edward had given them his report.

‘I would go to Cripplegate myself,’ he ended up, ‘but being a cripple . . .’ he laughed weakly at his joke, ‘I’ll have to leave it to you, Pride.’

Pride nodded his head. ‘You probably want to hear how I’m getting on.’

Edward listened while Pride brought him up to date with the investigation into Eric Silver’s death. When he had finished, Edward sighed heavily. ‘So we now know where we stand?’

‘Yes, we do,’ Pride said firmly.

‘The writing on all the notes is in the same hand? We’re sure of that?’

‘Yes, even though there was an attempt to disguise it. And, what’s more, our handwriting expert is almost certain it matches the writing you sent me, Lord Edward.’

‘But there’s still not enough evidence to make an arrest?’

‘Not for a day or two. You must keep a weather eye open, though. The murderer will suspect you know his secret and may try to harm you before we can put him in handcuffs. How is your leg? Don’t forget, you would be at a disadvantage in a scrap.’

Edward grinned. ‘I know the danger I’m in. Still, I’m hoping to provoke an attack and force the issue.’

‘A dangerous strategy, Lord Edward.’ Inspector Treacher stroked his whiskers.

‘Have you had the results of the post-mortem, Treacher?’

‘It was cyanide. Not very much but enough to kill an old man. I can’t think how we missed it.’ Treacher looked down at the floor and Pride studied the calendar on the wall.

‘So General Lowther was poisoned?’ Edward tried to overcome the Inspector’s embarrassment.

‘Yes, my lord. I feel very much to blame. If the doctor hadn’t been about to retire I would have had him struck off,’ he added savagely.

‘Hmm.’ Pride looked as though he was going to say something unpalatable about the investigation so Edward broke in again.

“Treacher, did you find out anything when you reinterviewed Miss Totteridge’s staff?’

‘Yes,’ he replied heavily, obviously chagrined to have to admit once again that he had missed something vital the first time. ‘I’ve just been telling Chief Inspector Pride. Her gardener said a man from the chemical company had come round to find out what she thought of the new poison. They were in the greenhouse for some time and the gardener said he saw the man leave. My guess is our murderer took the opportunity to lace her tea with the poison. We’ve checked with the chemical company and, of course, they knew nothing about a visit from any of their people.’

‘Would the gardener be able to recognize our murderer?’ Edward asked.

‘Probably, but it’s still not quite enough to convict him.’

‘And Eric Silver? I did think his was a different type of murder committed by someone else. Was I wrong?’

‘I believe you were,’ Pride said. ‘Silver’s murder
was
different because the murderer panicked. The killings of Lowther, Hermione Totteridge and Herold were all carefully planned. Silver’s murder was hurried and unplanned. I think the murderer overheard what Silver told you, Lord Edward, and decided to kill on the spur of the moment. He must have wanted to involve you and thought it gave him the perfect opportunity.’

‘You mean leaving the family motto on Silver’s body?’

‘Correct!’ Pride replied. ‘And it worked. You saw it as a challenge, just as the murderer hoped you would.’

‘I’m afraid he hates me and that was another reason he killed Silver so horribly. He did not hate Lowther, Herold or Miss Totteridge – not in the same way, not to the same degree. It should have been me, not Silver, in that dentist’s chair.’

Pride nodded in agreement. ‘He’d say that he only killed those who, according to his perverted logic, deserved death and were ready for it. Herold and Lowther, certainly. Miss Totteridge was different. An obstinate old woman, I think he would say, who refused to give him the reassurances he demanded from her.’

‘And the photograph he stole from her album?’ Edward asked Treacher.

‘I can’t be sure but I think it was of Peter Lamming and Isabella. It wasn’t taken by Miss Totteridge herself but sent by her niece from Kenya – probably so her aunt could see the man she was going to marry. I’m guessing but I think we’ll find it once we start looking.’

‘I think so, too,’ Edward said thoughtfully. ‘Well, let’s draw the net a bit tighter and try to bring this whole nasty business to a head, shall we?’

The two policemen looked at him without smiling, fearing that the worst was still to come.

Edward closed his eyes for a moment. ‘So wicked, so ruthless! It makes me sick to my stomach,’ he muttered half to himself. ‘We are what we do and this man has done evil.’

Arriving at the clinic, he half-expected to find Verity listless and weary once the exhilaration of surviving her ordeal in the Tiger Moth had faded. Instead, he found her jumping around in excitement.

‘You’re full of beans, V. What’s happened?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s happened. While you’ve been touring the countryside, I’ve been reading a book.’

‘Glad to hear it. One of Mrs Woolf’s socialist tracts?’

‘I’ve been reading,’ she said reprovingly, ‘that book of Herold’s you gave me.’

‘
The Fall
?’

‘
The Fall: A Love Story.
More precisely, I’ve been reading the account of the climb on which his first wife was killed.’

‘On the Eiger?’

‘Yes. It’s very well written but there’s something more.’ She looked at him with shining eyes and Edward thought she seemed almost her normal self again.

‘Don’t tease! Tell me,’ he smiled.

‘James and Gwyneth Herold didn’t climb the Eiger alone. There were several others in the party including your friend Harry Makin. That was his name before he inherited his title, wasn’t it?’

‘Good Lord, V! Why didn’t I read that book before? From now on, you won’t find me criticizing Inspector Treacher for not carrying out a thorough investigation.’

‘When you went to see Cathy Herold, didn’t Harry go with you? Why didn’t she recognize him or at least know his name?’

‘Because she had never met him before and because I introduced him as Lord Lestern. Why should she make the connection?’

‘They had never met before?’

‘No.’

‘Well, hadn’t you better tell her?’

‘I suppose so,’ Edward said meditatively, ‘but not quite yet. I need to think about all this. Darling V,’ he added, pulling himself together and taking her hand, ‘you’ve done well – very well. Do you feel up to coming to the regatta tomorrow?’

‘Try and stop me! I want to be in at the kill.’ She realized what she had said and made a face. ‘I didn’t mean that. You know what I meant, don’t you, Edward?’

‘I do,’ he replied, looking at her fondly.

‘By the way,’ she said, the thought striking her. ‘Weren’t you going to talk to Herold’s nurse? What did you say her name was? Mrs Paria? Such an odd name.’

‘Yes, I was, but the agency she worked for say that she has disappeared – gone abroad they think. They said she was . . . Oh God, of course! What an idiot I am! I’ll never do
The Times
crossword again!’

13

‘Miss Browne – or may I call you Verity? I can honestly say I have heard so much about you . . . from Edward,’ Harry added unnecessarily.

Edward was curious to see if they took to each other at their first meeting. He could see Harry was putting on the charm and, though Verity was smiling, he knew instinctively that she did not like him.

The final day of the regatta could be something of an anticlimax. There were many fewer races than on previous days and the finals sometimes turned out to be a damp squib, but today was going to be different.