Death at Wentwater Court Page 7

  Alec came to a decision. ‘I’m going to ask a further favour of you. Do you by any chance take shorthand?’

  ‘Yes, sort of. That is, I learned it and I worked for a while as a stenographer, but being in an office all day was simply frightful.’

  ‘You’ve forgotten it?’ he asked, disappointed.

  ‘Not exactly. I use it when I’m making notes for my writing, but it’s not quite Pitman’s any longer. I don’t think anyone else could read it. I can, as long as I transcribe it before I forget what it says.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ll risk it. It’ll be better than nothing. I want to interview people while they think I believe the drowning was accidental, but my officers won’t be here to take notes for some time.’

  ‘You want me to do it?’ She sounded astonished and not a little excited, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘A highly irregular proceeding,’ Alec admitted. ‘Expecting a simple accident, I’ve come ill prepared for a serious investigation. The other case I’m working on, the one that brought me to Hampshire, also involves a number of influential people. We’re short-handed and I can’t just abandon it.’

  ‘I’ll help, as long as no one objects.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Dalrymple. I count on you not to repeat anything you hear. I’ll see that you’re paid for your work, including the photography.’ Even if he had to pay her himself.

  ‘Spiffing! I’ll send for . . . no, I’ll go and fetch my notebook. I don’t want Mabel messing about with my papers.’

  She went off, a spring in her step. Alec rang the bell and asked the footman who appeared to inform Lord Wentwater that he desired a private interview.

  ‘His lordship is occupied in the estate office with his agent,’ the man told him loftily.

  Alec turned on the hapless menial the look that made his subordinates jump to attention and crooks shake in their shoes. ‘Then you know where to find him,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir. At once, sir.’

  While he waited, Alec planned his approach to the earl. Had he enough evidence to insist on questioning the household if a polite request was refused?

  He read over the notes he had made on the thickness and solidity of the ice, the missing piece or pieces, the lack of cracks radiating from the hole, the curious marks on the edge. Glancing at the photographs, he admired again not only Miss Dalrymple’s competence, but her perspicacity in noticing something amiss.

  His thoughts wandered. From what she said, it sounded as if she was working for a living, however cheerfully. At first he’d assumed she was merely amusing herself, like Lady Angela Forbes with her florist’s shop off Portman Square, before the War, when he did his years on the beat after University. Surely an Honourable Miss, the daughter of a baron or viscount, could not be so devoid of family as to make employment necessary. Yet she didn’t seem the rebellious, or quarrelsome, or shameless sort of girl who might have cast off or been cast off by her family.

  He shook his head, rubbing tired eyes. It was none of his business. What he wouldn’t give for a pipe!

  The footman returned. ‘His lordship will see you in the estate office, sir, if you’ll please to come this way.’

  The estate office was a small room cluttered with ledgers, monographs on raising beef cattle, silver cups won by prize sows, and the general paraphernalia of running a busy estate. Lord Wentwater, seated at the desk, dismissed his land agent with a nod.

  ‘I trust your investigation is completed, Chief Inspector.’ He spoke with courtesy but did not invite Alec to sit down.

  Alec put him down as an aristocrat of the old school, mindful of his responsibilities and taking his privileges for granted. His son and heir was like him in many respects, but in a changing world Lord Beddowe was less certain of his privileges and therefore more insistent on them. Perhaps that uncertainty had bred the undercurrent of resentment Alec had sensed in James Beddowe. The young man would have to work hard to earn the respect his father received as his due.

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ Alec said. ‘I find I must pursue further enquiries. I’d like your permission to ask a few questions of your household, your guests, and yourself.’

  ‘What!’ The earl gave him a cold stare. ‘I shall give no such permission.’

  ‘I fear I must insist, sir. If you wish, I can report to the Commissioner at Scotland Yard by telephone and ask him to explain the necessity to you.’

  ‘I suppose you consider you have sufficient reason for this extraordinary demand?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ As though he’d risk his career for a whim! He was not prepared to state his reasons, however, and he prayed Lord Wentwater would not ask. ‘I need not say that I shall do my utmost not to give offence with my questions, and all answers will remain confidential, with the usual provisos.’ Unless needed as evidence in a court of law, but he wasn’t going to point that out. He hurried on. ‘I’d be very grateful for your cooperation, sir.’

  There, with any luck polite but firm should do the trick.

  ‘But you will go your way with or without it,’ said Lord Wentwater with an ironical look. ‘Very well, you may tell my family and my servants that I expect them to cooperate with you. For my guests I cannot speak. I am busy at present, but I shall submit to interrogation later this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Though he’d rather have interrogated the earl first, he felt he had got off lightly. No use pressing his luck.

  He found his way down endless corridors back to the Blue Salon. As he approached the open door, he heard a worried voice he recognized as that of the brother who had so persistently protected Miss Petrie from him.

  ‘But hang it all, Daisy, you’ve been in here for hours. What’s going on?’

  The Honourable Phillip Petrie was standing by a window seat where Miss Dalrymple had ensconced herself. Alec remembered that she had known the fellow all her life. Though she called him a bit of a fool, she had spoken of him with affection. He was her elder by two or three years, her equal in rank, and handsome in a rather weak way. They were obviously on the easiest of terms.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t get all hot under the collar, Phillip,’ Miss Dalrymple advised him. ‘Those photos Sir Hugh had me take turned out to be useful, that’s all. And now Mr. Fletcher is employing me as a stenographer since his sergeant isn’t here yet.’

  ‘Employing you? The bounder! What unmitigated cheek.’

  ‘Bosh! It’s jolly decent of him to offer to pay me when I would have done it for nothing. I’m thinking of writing a detective story some day, instead of any old novel. They’re madly popular.’

  ‘You and your confounded scribbling,’ Petrie groaned. ‘It’s beyond me why you won’t go back to . . . ’

  ‘Here’s the Chief Inspector,’ Miss Dalrymple interrupted, spotting him and greeting him with a cheerful smile.

  Alec had the feeling he came as a welcome respite. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Petrie,’ he said smoothly. ‘I only have a few questions to ask you. Shall we sit down?’ His courteous gesture invited the young man to take a seat on a small sofa with his back to Daisy. His face would be adequately illuminated by the next window along, and it wouldn’t hurt if he forgot that every word he spoke was being recorded.

  Petrie sat down, slightly flushed and looking sheepish. He must be wondering if he’d been overheard describing as a bounder the police officer who was about to question him. ‘I came to find Miss Dalrymple,’ he blustered. ‘I didn’t know you wanted to see me.’

  ‘A matter of routine.’

  As usual the soothing formula worked: Petrie visibly relaxed. ‘Oh, right-ho. Where was I between seven and nine this morning and that kind of rot, eh?’

  Alec took the wing chair opposite him. ‘Between seven and nine?’

  ‘Well, that must be about when the poor fish . . . er . . . chappie fell through the ice, mustn’t it? Stands to reason. Too dark before, and he was found not much after nine. I say, you’re not going to put Fenella through it again, a
re you? Deuced upsetting business for a female, don’t you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t expect to have any further questions for Miss Petrie,’ said Alec dryly. A fat chance he’d have of getting any answers out of her. ‘Where were you, then, between seven and nine?’

  ‘Swigging down the jolly old early-morning tea, dressing, finding my way to the nose-bag, and so on. You know the routine, old bean . . . er . . . Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Finding your way to the nose-bag?’

  ‘The breakfast parlour, I mean to say. Got there about ten minutes before Fenella toddled in with the news.’

  ‘You are unfamiliar with the house, Mr. Petrie?’

  ‘By Jove, not that unfamiliar. Just a manner of speaking, don’t you know. I’ve been down here since the day after Boxing Day, came to keep m’sister company. She’s engaged to Beddowe.’

  ‘So I understand. You’ve never been here before?’

  ‘Never. I’ve often met the Beddowes in town, of course, but we’re not particularly pally.’

  ‘And you knew the deceased in town?’

  ‘Astwick? More in the City. He put me on to a good thing just a few weeks ago.’

  To Alec’s ears, Petrie sounded distinctly uncertain about the good thing. If he were brilliantly acting the part of the upper-class twerp he appeared to be, surely he’d have hidden his doubts. It couldn’t be an act, though. Miss Dalrymple had known him all her life.

  After a few more questions, Alec let him go and rang the bell. As he instructed the footman, Daisy glanced through her notes, clarifying an odd squiggle here and there.

  ‘Please ask Geoffrey Beddowe to spare me a few minutes.’

  ‘I don’t b’lieve Mr. Geoffrey’s come home yet, sir.’

  ‘Come home?’

  ‘Mr. Geoffrey went out riding early and telephoned to say he was going to spend the day with a friend, sir.’

  ‘All right, I’ll see Lady Josephine next.’

  The footman left and the detective came over to the window seat.

  ‘Did you manage to get it all down?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so. Why Lady Jo? I’m sure she can’t possibly have had anything to do with it.’

  ‘I expect you’re right, but having begun by chance with Mr. Petrie I might as well get the least likely out of the way first.’

  ‘Then you don’t think Phillip did it?’ she said, relieved.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to know the place well enough to lay his hands on an axe without poking about or asking the servants a lot of awkward questions, which we’ll soon find out if he did.’

  ‘So that’s what you were after. Frightfully clever.’

  ‘Somehow I can’t picture him packing an axe in his luggage.’

  She laughed. ‘If he did, you may be sure the servants would know all about that, too.’

  ‘I must say, it wouldn’t suit me to have my every sneeze discussed in the servants’ hall. The trouble is, even with servants swarming about, no one’s going to have an alibi.’

  Daisy nodded. ‘The ice could have been hacked at any time between nightfall and daybreak. I wondered why you wanted to know about seven to nine.’

  ‘I didn’t, but he wanted to tell me,’ said Mr. Fletcher. ‘In fact, it led to the business of his being unfamiliar with the house, so it was worthwhile. What about the married couples? No chance of eliminating them, I suppose.’

  ‘I don’t know about their sleeping arrangements,’ Daisy said, blushing, ‘but Lord Wentwater spent most of the evening in his study, Annabel went to bed early, and Sir Hugh disappeared to the smoking-room after dinner. I don’t know if he was gone long enough to do it.’

  ‘You were in the same room as Lady Josephine all evening?’

  ‘From about half past seven. It was dark long before that.’ While she was enjoying her leisurely bath, anyone could have been down at the lake. ‘Most of the maids go off duty at eight, though there would have been a few servants around until midnight or so. It wasn’t till after dinner that Lord Stephen talked about skating early.’

  ‘He’d been here a week and the lake’s been frozen for three days, I gather; the servants must have known,’ said the detective with a sardonic look. ‘Which means anyone could know. Well, we’re getting nowhere fast. Are you comfortable there, Miss Dalrymple? It’s a good, unobtrusive spot.’

  ‘That’s why I chose it,’ she said smugly. ‘Watching someone write down my words would jolly well shut me up. Phillip had forgotten I was here by the time he left.’ To herself she admitted to being a bit piqued.

  As if he guessed, Mr. Fletcher said consolingly, ‘After all, that’s just what we want.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Where has Lady Josephine got to? You know, it’s odd that Geoffrey is out, in the circumstances.’

  Daisy considered the matter. ‘I hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t turn up to lunch. He’s big, but so silent he’s easily overlooked. He must have left before the body was discovered.’

  ‘Surely whoever spoke to him on the ’phone would have told him.’

  ‘Not if he just left a message with a servant, and even if he was told, he might not see any reason to return. It was nothing to do with him.’

  ‘True. But if he left the house early, he may have seen Astwick skating, or on his way down to the lake. Every little scrap of information helps. If he doesn’t put in an appearance soon, I’ll have to see if I can get hold of him on the telephone. Incidentally, what about the servants? Might any of them hold a grudge against Astwick?’

  ‘I haven’t the foggiest. I only arrived yesterday, remember. I could have a chat with the chambermaid who waits on me, if you like.’

  ‘By all means have a chat about the general feeling in the servants’ hall, but I don’t want you asking specific questions. We’ll leave that to Sergeant Tring.’

  At that moment Lady Josephine put in an appearance, followed by her husband. Alec sighed, inaudibly he hoped, and went to meet them.

  ‘You won’t mind if I sit in on this interview, will you?’ Sir Hugh asked, affable but with a determined edge to his voice.

  ‘Of course not, sir. I need to speak to you as well.’

  He needn’t have worried that Sir Hugh’s presence would render his wife monosyllabic. A large lady of uncertain years, clad in bulky tweeds and superb pearls, she gushed, ‘This is all most frightfully exciting, Chief Inspector. A dreadful business, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘Why, Daisy dear, I almost didn’t see you hidden in that corner.’

  ‘I’m acting as Mr. Fletcher’s stenographer, Lady Josephine, since he’s come without one.’

  ‘How clever you young women are nowadays! You want us to sit here, Mr. Fletcher? Do be seated, won’t you? It must be quite wearying asking questions all day. That’s better.’ She beamed at him. ‘Now, how can we help you?’

  Alec found himself warming to the earl’s sister in a most unprofessional way. He understood why Miss Dalrymple refused to believe her guilty, whether or not she was physically capable of chopping a hole in the ice. ‘Perhaps you would begin by telling me what you know of Lord Stephen Astwick, ma’am,’ he said.

  ‘He was an utter cad!’ she declared forthrightly. ‘He was paying the most objectionable attentions to my sister-in-law, which is only what one might expect of a man who is a byword in the most scandalous weeklies. Not that I read them! But I’ve heard him linked with a dozen names: Lady Purbright, Lady Amelia Gault, Mrs. Bassington-Cove, Gussie Warnecker . . . ’

  ‘Just a moment!’ Three of those names were familiar to Alec. ‘Miss Dalrymple, are you taking this down?’

  ‘Names are tough.’

  ‘Would you mind repeating them, Lady Josephine, and continuing a little more slowly?’

  ‘I’m not telling you anything you couldn’t find out from past issues of Tittle-Tattle,’ she said anxiously.

  ‘Of course not, ma’am. You are simply saving me time and trouble, and everything you say will remain confidential.’ As hearsay it was not allowable in evid
ence, however useful he might find it.

  She looked to Sir Hugh, who nodded, faintly amused, to Alec’s relief. He was very much interested – and puzzled – by the names she reeled off. She recalled another five of Astwick’s presumed conquests before her memory ran dry.

  ‘There are more, Mr. Fletcher, but they have slipped my mind.’

  ‘You’ve been extremely helpful, Lady Josephine. If any more occur to you, be so good as to write them down for me. I don’t suppose you happen to know – by reputation or through staying in the same house as Lord Stephen on a previous occasion, perhaps – whether he was also in the habit of, er, paying his attentions to, er, females of the lower orders?’

  ‘Did he run after the maids, you mean? I don’t believe so. In a sense, you might say that he was fastidious, though that is far too complimentary a word for the rotter. But he did demand a certain breeding in his mistresses.’

  Alec bit back a smile at her frankness. ‘I see, Now, one more question, if you please. Did you know, before Lord Stephen spoke of it last night, that he was in the habit of skating before breakfast?’

  Her ladyship snorted. ‘Pure bunkum! As though there were something positively virtuous about exercising at dawn. Yes, I did know. My maid told me it was quite a joke in the servants’ hall.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. I need not trouble you further for the present.’ Alec rose to his feet.

  ‘No trouble, Chief Inspector. It’s our duty to help the police. A most worthy group of men, I’m sure. Hugh, shall I stay?’

  ‘No, no, my love, no need.’ Her husband patted her hand. ‘I’ve a feeling we’ll be talking business, and you know how anything to do with the City confuses you.’

  ‘Yes, dear. I’ll be off then.’ Halfway to the door, Lady Josephine turned. ‘Just one thing, Mr. Fletcher,’ she said earnestly. ‘My brother didn’t realize Lord Stephen was chasing after Annabel. I’m sure he didn’t. He can’t have. He never showed any sign that he knew.’