The Blackwoods Farm Enquiry (An Ivy Beasley Mystery) (12 page)

“DID YOU SAY
the inspector was outside, Deirdre?” Ivy’s face was an angry red, and Roy reached out to her and took her hand. “And what about her sister in Spinney Close? And her nephew, Rickwood? Have they been told?”

“Let’s listen to the rest of what Deirdre has to say,” he suggested quietly. “Losing your cool, as the young say, will not help Gus.”

Deirdre had been trying to explain what had happened to Gus, but all she knew was what he had told her briefly on the telephone after he had found Eleanor Blatch. The bare facts were bad enough, but they were all he had had time to give her before Frobisher arrived and ended the call.

Then Katya had come in with their breakfast and said the sirens and police they had heard were all on their way to Blackwoods Farm, and rumours were rife. The gossips in the shop said they’d seen Mr. Halfhide being taken away. They now remembered they had always known there was something funny about him, the way he’d arrived in the village with nothing but what he stood up in, and a small grey dog.

“Everyone was talking about it,” said Ivy, “and now you have come to tell us Gus has been taken off to Thornwell police station for questioning. What do you expect, Roy? Of course I’m angry. Anyway, what else have you to tell us, Deirdre?”

“Not a lot, unfortunately. I had a word with the inspector, and he said Gus would soon be released. Then, being a policeman through and through, he was all for storming in here to interview you two, and I stopped him. I said he could come in when we were ready. And Mrs. Spurling is already guarding the reception door, in case he should try a forced entry.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Deirdre,” said Ivy, now calmer. “You said Gus phoned you before he left the farm. He must have had more to tell?”

“Well, it seems that he went to look for his book, and saw out the window that there was someone in the cage at the bottom of the fire escape, and it was Eleanor. It was early morning, and he had been going to leave before she got up. He was fed up with the whole thing, I think, before he saw her.”

“And is she all right? Why the police?”

“I am afraid she was not all right. In fact, she is dead, Ivy. Gus said she was lying crookedly in the cage, and he reckoned her death must have been instant. Sensibly, he didn’t touch her. He had called the police. That’s all I know, I’m afraid.”

“Well, that explains the police and the ambulance. Thank you, Deirdre, that was all very clear,” said Roy.

“So you’d better let the inspector come in, Deirdre,” Ivy said. “Perhaps he’ll tell us more, and then we can decide what to do about Gus. I’ll swear our Gus couldn’t kill a wasp, let alone push a woman to her death in the middle of the night.”

“He hadn’t heard anything in the night, he said, though he admitted he’d had a couple of pints in the pub before going to Blackwoods.” Deirdre frowned at Ivy.

“Of course, dear. Best get your inspector, and then we can start work.”

Mrs. Spurling had warmed up the small conference room, and when Ivy, Roy and Deirdre went in, they found Inspector Frobisher already waiting for them. He stood up immediately and wished them a good morning.

“Let’s hope it is a good morning,” said Ivy, allowing him to hold a chair for her. Roy sat next to her, and Deirdre directly opposite the inspector.

“Before you start, Barry Frobisher,” said Deirdre, “do we have your assurance that Gus Halfhide will be released and back here today?”

“You know very well, Mrs. Bloxham,” he replied stiffly, “that we have to question very closely the man who found the deceased. Especially since he had spent the night in her house.”

“That’s very reasonable, Deirdre dear,” said Roy. “Now, Inspector, we are really very much in the dark about what happened, so perhaps you would be kind enough to fill us in. You will appreciate that we are very concerned about a valued colleague, as well as being fellow workers with you on a case already involving poor Miss Blatch.”

Thank God for Roy Goodman, thought the inspector. “Of course,” he began, “we all know that Mrs. Blatch had engaged the services of Enquire Within to find out who, if anybody, was disturbing her sleep with ghostly manifestations and threats to her person. We all also know that this lady has a troubled history, when she shut herself off from everything and allowed her house to go to rack and ruin.”

“Not quite a ruin,” interrupted Deirdre. “I reckon me and my team cleaned that place up pretty well before she came out of hospital. Needs more attention, but it’s certainly not a ruin, and she was doing her bit to help.”

“Don’t interrupt the inspector,” said Ivy. “Else we shall be here all day. Carry on, please.”

“Thanks, Miss Beasley. Well, we were first called in when Mrs. Bloxham found Mrs. Blatch unconscious on the floor of her bedroom, apparently having fallen out of bed and cut open her head on something sharp. It could have been the old iron bedstead, or something else subsequently removed. She was taken to hospital, where she recovered. Since then she has been a new woman. Deirdre has befriended her, and we have made certain enquiries about a former lodger of hers.”

“So what have you found out?”

“Deirdre! Do be quiet, girl!” Ivy glared at her, and Deirdre subsided with a mutinous expression.

“Nothing, so far. We are still following several leads, but nothing yet. Apart from his name, which at that time was Sturridge.”

Deirdre opened her mouth to tell him that Roy and Ivy had failed to find any trace of him in the library, but a furious look from Ivy quelled her.

“We—I should perhaps say I—had more or less decided that Mrs. Blatch had dreamt up the threats, but was now well on the road to recovery from delusions, and her future looked bright,” said Frobisher. “You can imagine, therefore, how surprised I was to receive Mr. Halfhide’s call this morning. I have already explained why we want to talk to him urgently, since he may have many details to remember from the previous twelve hours which will help us in our enquiries.”

He cleared his throat and looked round the three. “Have you anything to add to that?” he asked. “Anything at all that you can think of that might be helpful?”

“I think you should know, Inspector,” Ivy said slowly, “that although Deirdre here really took to the woman, I had my doubts. It seemed to me that she was not always telling the truth. Nothing important, but one of those people who can’t resist the odd white lie, where necessary to make themselves appear in a good light. And, as you perhaps know, she quarrelled years ago with a disabled sister living in Spinney Close, and they haven’t spoken since. As she was a client of Enquire Within, it doesn’t matter what I thought of her character. It was a job for us to do. Whether we shall want to carry on, I must discuss with colleagues. Releasing Gus is vital. He knew the deceased better than any of us. He’d spent two nights there, you know.”

The inspector stood up. “As you say, Miss Beasley,” he said. “He may well have important details to tell us. Please rest assured that I shall do my best to do my job efficiently for all concerned. And we shall naturally be speaking to her sister, and her nephew, did you say? Perhaps you will kindly let me know if you think of anything else that might help us.”

He nodded at all three and went swiftly out of the room. There was a gloomy silence for a minute or two, and then Ivy got to her feet. “Right! Come on, you two. I regard the inspector’s farewell speech as a challenge. We have a great deal of work to do, and there’s every reason to start straight away. I smell cooking, and I suppose we can fuel ourselves with lunch first. Open the door, Deirdre. You’d better go home now in case Gus wants to get in touch. We shall be up to join you at half past two. Let’s hope there’s good news by then.”

• • •

AS IF TO
help them, dark morning clouds had dispersed and watery sunshine lit their way up to Tawny Wings. By three o’clock they were settled and Ivy had taken the chair. “I’ve looked at notes I made after our visit to the library. Now, do we all think there was anything at all in Miss Blatch’s suspicion that her former lodger had returned to persecute her?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Deirdre. “After all, there was definitely something going on in the dark chamber, as Gus calls it. Dammit! We should have asked Frobisher if his men had broken into that, and what they found. Anyway, I think it is a line still needing to be pursued.”

“Gus went in once, didn’t he? Found nobody, but evidence of recent occupation,” Deirdre said. “He told me later that he reckoned you can tell when a room is being used, and in spite of what Mrs. Blatch said, that room was. Being used, that is.”

“I’d like to take another look at the bottom of the fire escape,” said Roy. “I think I remember that cage thing. Not locked up, most of the time, like when Gus went in and found the cigar butt. I believed we had mentioned the need for the fire escape to be always accessible, so perhaps Eleanor had remembered that. Perhaps we could take a look up there, Ivy?”

“Police won’t let you anywhere near it. Still, we might be able to creep round and see what’s to be found.”

“The reason I ask is that it would be the obvious way for an attacker—if it really was an attack this time—to get away from the house without waking Gus, who was asleep upstairs, but in a room with a door very close to Miss Blatch’s. But why? Lord knows why she was found at the bottom of the fire escape, unless either she tripped and fell, or she was pushed. It seems almost ridiculous to contemplate that, but it must be looked at as a possibility.”

“And if the killer had lured her into the dark chamber and then done the deed, he could easily have scarpered out of the house and away. But, anyway, I’m sure with all that going on, Gus would have woken. That’s probable, isn’t it?” said Deirdre.

“Or,” said Ivy, “maybe the lodger was already living there and sharing Mrs. Blatch’s bed, creeping in after there was no risk of Gus hearing him. Then he could easily have thought of a reason for the two of them to go into the dark chamber and unlock the escape. It would have been easy for him. Lord knows where he’s living, if he is around. I suppose it could have been him who left the cigar butt? Perhaps he stays out of the way while people are around. Skulks in the dark chamber?”

“Ivy!” said Roy, “My dearest girl, what a terrible thought! No wonder you have joined a creative writing class. We shall wait in trepidation for publication day!”

Deirdre did not laugh. She was impressed with Ivy’s guesswork, and now asked her why a wayward lodger should do such a thing. After all, he was living in some comfort, perhaps blackmailing Eleanor Blatch into keeping him in food and drink. Why disturb what was a cushy billet?

She paused, frowning. “What’s that noise?” she said suddenly.

Ivy drew in her breath sharply. “Sounds like someone trying to get in the French windows in your drawing room,” she said.

Roy struggled to his feet. “I shall go and look. You two ladies stay here. It’s probably nothing more than a bird flying into the glass. They do, you know.”

Before he could get to the door, it opened and Deirdre moved swiftly to protect Ivy from an intruder.

“Sorry to break in, Dee-Dee,” said Gus, half smiling, and unsure of his welcome. “I think your doorbell is broken. Anyway, I’m here. And before you say another thing, there’s a development I gleaned from the nice policewoman. Our friend Eleanor Blatch was a smoker, and her chosen puff was a small cigar. An immediate inspection found a small pack in her pockets, apparently, and a strong smell of cigar smoke pervading her clothes.”

“THAT EXPLAINS IT,
then. I suppose in her generation ladies didn’t handle cigars, at least in public, and she would retire to the dark chamber for a quiet smoke. So did you escape, or did Frobisher let you go?”

Deirdre now sat on the sofa beside Gus, plying him with coffee and chocolate biscuits. She even offered one to Whippy, but was immediately thwarted by Ivy saying that chocolate was certain death to dogs.

“Oh, he was quite happy to let me go,” Gus said, “and I must say he was very professional and decent with it. Good chap, Deirdre, I must say.”

“Naturally,” said Deirdre. “I don’t consort with rotters. Anyway, enough of that. Tell us all the interesting things he said about what the police have found so far.”

“I don’t think he felt much like confiding in me—yet! But he did close question me about Whippy.”

“Whippy?” said Roy. “I hope he was not suggesting she had a hand in the business?”

“No, but he did pick up from what I said that Whippy had not barked or whimpered in any way once I was in bed. Which indicates that Eleanor Blatch was persuaded to go into the dark chamber by person or persons known.”

“That’s quite enough of those known persons, Gus,” said Ivy. “If anyone asked me, I’d say that the big question is WHY? Surely, at her age, she wasn’t up to participating in athletic high jinks? And dear Whippy would certainly have pricked her ears at any squeals of delight?”

“Yep, Ivy, quite right,” said Deirdre. “Of course, now we know she is the smoker, I suppose if she couldn’t sleep, say, she could have retired to the dark chamber for a quiet smoke alone.”

Gus thought for a moment. “Not when I first went up to bed,” he said. “I think it was quiet inside the house in the early morning. But I couldn’t swear to that.”

“I suppose you didn’t think to look at the dark chamber door? No, of course not, why would you?” said Roy.

“And the back door, Gus, the one in the kitchen? Was that locked?” Deirdre had a clear map of the ground floor of the farmhouse in her head, and since she had helped clean up the place, she remembered the front door was almost never opened, as Ivy had found. The back one was in constant use. So it was either a good push at the front or the back kitchen door leading out into the yard.

“Yes, it was locked,” he said miserably. “I’m quite sure on that one, because I unlocked it to let the inspector in, after I phoned. So nobody went out that way.”

“Did Barry Frobisher ask you about the missing hens, or the dog?” persisted Deirdre. “I know you won’t agree, but I think those horrible things surely meant that someone reasonably local intended to frighten her. First bantams, then a dog, and finally a vulnerable lady. She could have had another nightmare and . . . Well, it’s difficult to guess what happened. There might well have been someone very cunning who chose their moment, knowing you were sleeping in the house and would be an obvious suspect.”

Gus looked grim. “I have to confess that I took a sleeping pill when I got to bed. I couldn’t face another hysterical session. She was in a lousy mood when she went up, as I’ve said.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ivy. “None of us has reason to go back there. We can safely leave that to the police. One thing is definitely sure. The murderer is not likely to be hanging around there, waiting to be found.”

• • •

BUT LATER THAT
evening, as Ivy and Roy were sitting in companionable silence over a last cup of hot milk, Ivy suddenly spoke with urgency in her voice.

“Roy! I’ve had an odd thought. Do you think it possible that the villain who killed Eleanor Blatch
is
still hiding somewhere around the farm? He could wait until it all blows over and the police depart, and then take up his secret residence again and nobody any the wiser. What do you think?”

Roy shook his head. “Possible, I suppose. But very unlikely. I don’t underestimate police searching powers. They would do a very thorough job.”

“But think how many places on a farm there are for a person to hide. And that particular farm has not been modernised inside or out for goodness knows how many years. Perhaps worth a look, once the police have gone.

“Mm, well, perhaps. But right now, Miss Ivy, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is another day, and we shall see what it brings.”

A light and tactful knock on Ivy’s door heralded Katya. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I have Mr. Halfhide on the phone, and he says it is urgent. I have told him it is too late to bother you, but he insists.”

Ivy took the phone from her, and Roy watched her face. She smiled at first, then frowned, and finally nodded after ending the call. She said they must all meet tomorrow. Ten thirty at Tawny Wings.

“Did he say why, dearest?” said Roy, getting to his feet and going across to hold Ivy’s hand.

“Seems there’s been another casualty. Very serious, this time.”

“What could be more serious than murder?” Roy said.

“Whippy. She has been kidnapped.”

“But she is only a dog,” Katya said. “She may have run off by herself.”

“Not with Gus looking after her,” said Ivy. “He is very upset.”

“Then we shall be at Tawny Wings at half past ten tomorrow, to supply consolation and support.” He limped out of the door and took Katya’s arm. “That dog is like a child to Gus, my dear. A child and close companion,” he said. He patted her swelling stomach gently, and said he was sure she would understand.