A Mourning Wedding Read online

  “Mrs. Fletcher is of the opinion that Lady Eva simply enjoyed having all the facts at her fingertips, without any intention of making use of them.” The Chief Constable sighed. “But Crummle pointed out that no one could be sure she wouldn’t reveal her knowledge in a disastrous way. I’m afraid he’s right.”

  “Undoubtedly. Great Scott, is that Haverhill?”

  “Quite a pile, isn’t it? A bit too fantastic for my taste, I must confess. Rather like a fairy-tale palace—Sleeping Beauty, or some such. On the large side, too, but several family members live there on a regular basis, and scores of servants, even since the War.”

  “Pay well enough and one can still find domestic staff, I’m sure.” Alec mentally noted this evidence of prosperity, borne out by the excellent condition of the drive and the parkland on either side of the avenue.

  He turned his attention back to the house itself as the Daimler approached that endless façade. An intimidating sight, he acknowledged. If Daisy’s childhood home had been on this scale, he might never have dared propose to her.

  The exterior of the fairy-tale palace—in Sir Leonard’s unexpectedly whimsical phrase—looked as well maintained as the grounds. The upkeep must cost a small fortune annually. The Fotheringays were clearly not one of those noble families who had fallen on hard times after the War. Whether that fact had any bearing on the murder remained to be seen.

  As the car stopped, Daisy came pattering down the steps. Jumping out, Alec called, “Careful!”

  “It’s all right, darling, I’m not front-heavy yet.” But she slowed to a more decorous pace. “I did my best to persuade Lucy not to persuade Lord Haverhill to ask Sir Leonard to call you in, but I’m jolly glad you’re here, all the same. Hello, Mr. Tring! Thank you for rushing to the rescue!”

  Tom’s bald dome gleamed as he doffed his hat. “My pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.” His luxuriant moustache quite failed to hide a beam. Though not, like Piper, convinced of Daisy’s infallibility, he had a very soft spot for her. “The Chief’ll soon have it all sorted out, I don’t doubt.”

  Sir Leonard came around the car. “Well, I’ll leave you to get on with it, Fletcher. You won’t mind if I hang about a bit? I won’t interfere with your doings, I promise.”

  “I hope you’ll introduce me to Detective Inspector Crummle, sir, in ten …” Alec caught Daisy’s eye. “ … In a quarter of an hour or so. And later to Lord Haverhill.”

  “Of course, of course. In the meantime, suppose I take your sergeant here to see Crummle?”

  “I’d take it very kindly, sir,” said Tom tactfully.

  They all went into the house. The enormous hall, inhabited only by ancestral portraits, made Alec think of the overpopulated rabbit warrens of London’s East End, through which he’d chased many a villain. In some ways, the challenge here was going to be entirely different. In some ways it would be much the same: a web of family loyalties, a confusion of lies concealing unimportant secrets, a motive turning on some variation of greed or fear.

  Cui bono? Who would profit from Lady Eva’s death, whether financially or by freedom from dread of exposure?

  “Come into the library, darling. Mr. Walsdorf is the only person who ever uses it, and he’s moved his theatre of operations up to Lord Haverhill’s study. The poor chap’s in charge of cancelling all the wedding arrangements.”

  “Cancelling? Not postponing?”

  “I’ll come to that later. I have so much to tell you!”

  Alec shut the library door behind them and kissed Daisy thoroughly. “Are you all right, love? I hate to think of you having such a shock in your condition.”

  “Whereas you don’t mind a bit if I have a shock when I’m not pregnant?”

  “You know very well I wish you’d never in your life come within a hundred miles of murder.”

  “Then I’d never have met you.”

  “True,” Alec admitted. “That wouldn’t have done at all.” He kissed her again before surveying his surroundings.

  The library was another huge apartment, though without the lofty height of the hall. The only sign of mediaeval influence was the row of tall arched windows looking north onto the carriage sweep and avenue. Between the windows, bookshelves rose to the ceiling. Matching bookcases on the opposite wall were interspersed with more portraits, these of stalwart Victorian and Edwardian gentlemen with whiskers or beards and their ladies in crinolines, bustles or Grecian bends.

  “These are the real family portraits,” said Daisy, noting the direction of his gaze. “The ones in the hall are someone else’s ancestors. Lord Haverhill told me the history of the Fotheringays.”

  “Is it relevant?”

  “I don’t think so. I shan’t waste time on it now, anyway. Come and sit down. You’ll want to use the desk, won’t you?”

  “Yes. This looks like a good room for us to settle in, telephone and all.”

  “I’m sure no one will mind. Right-oh, where shall I start? With the … the body?”

  “No, I’ll get all that from Crummle. Let’s go through this list of who was here last night. Tell me a bit about each, which will no doubt lead to further revelations.”

  “I suspect I have a revelation before we start. Is Edward, or Teddy, Devenish on your list?”

  Something nagged at the back of Alec’s mind as he ran his finger down the list. “Edward Devenish? No. Are you saying he was in fact here?”

  “He arrived in the wee small hours, I’m told. His sister let him in and he slept on her bedroom floor.”

  “What’s their relationship to the deceased?”

  “Grandchildren. Teddy’s the only male child of Sir James and Lady Devenish.”

  “‘The young master,’” Alec quoted Lady Eva’s housekeeper. “Ernie found a reference to his consorting with a divorcee. I left him going through the papers, by the way—and thanks for the tip. It might have taken us a while to get on to that stash of dynamite.”

  “The relatives mightn’t have been too happy to mention it,” Daisy agreed. “Really rather an infra dig hobby for the daughter of an earl and widow of a baronet. I mean, gossip’s one thing but digging around for it and writing it down is not at all the thing. Do you think the motive for her murder’s there?”

  “I’m not quite ready to pronounce on that. We’ll see what else Ernie digs up.”

  Daisy pounced on his pronoun. “We? We’ll see?”

  “Tom and I, and possibly the local chap. It’s no good looking so disconsolate, love. You don’t really want to know all the naughty antics Lucy’s family gets up to.”

  “I suppose not,” she conceded reluctantly.

  “Apart from other considerations, such as my professional integrity, it’s dangerous knowledge.” He frowned. “In fact, you’d better drop the odd disgruntled hint that I’m being close-mouthed. I don’t want you suffering Lady Eva’s fate, and you’ve the baby to think of now, too. Cheer up. I do need your help.”

  “Noble of you to admit it for once, darling!”

  “Back to Teddy Devenish. Do you know why he turned up in the early hours of the morning?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest. Angela—his sister—just told me he telephoned last night, and she went down to let him in at one. He was late and she had to hang about. I don’t know what excuse he gave her. She’s a bit naive. She also told me she expects to inherit a fair amount from Lady Eva.”

  “She must have known we’d see the will. As a matter of fact, I have it in my pocket.”

  “But she could have pretended not to know about the bequest.”

  “True, though since the housekeeper told me about the bequest, that wouldn’t have washed. Tell me about her. I’m going to concentrate on the financial motive until I hear from Piper.”

  Daisy complied, ending, “I can’t see anyone so determined to fight cruelty inflicting such a frightful death on any living being.”

  “Unless for the greater good.”

  “I don’t believe she’s that fanatical, but if she is, sh
e’d surely have found a quick and painless way to do her grandmother in. I saw her face, Alec.”

  He reached across the corner of the desk to squeeze Daisy’s hand. “Don’t think about it, love. Let’s move on to Teddy. He’s the residuary legatee. What do you make of him?”

  “Spoilt. By his mother, at least, and indulged by his sister, who lurked on the cold, dark terrace for ages waiting for him to put in an appearance.”

  “And his father?”

  “I suspect Sir James’s opinions don’t carry a great deal of weight. Lady Devenish rather squashed him. Perhaps that’s why he’s such an avid pursuer of game large and small. It gets him out of the house. Is he in the will?”

  “Not exactly. But the town house belongs to the estate so he gains the free use of it by his mother’s death. He could rent it out for income, or use it to escape from his wife. Would they have condoned Teddy’s carrying on with a divorcée?”

  “Who knows? Though I doubt their indulgence would stretch so far, even if she was technically the wronged party. Do you think Lady Eva might have threatened to tell his parents? Or to rewrite her will?”

  “It seems rather more likely than that she should hold a discovery over the head of anyone less closely related. It would give him a double motive. So far, young Master Teddy is shaping up as my prime suspect. Daisy, I hate to tell you this, but Lucy figures largely in the will.”

  “I know. She told me. But it was she who persuaded the Earl to ask the Chief Constable to ask for you. Besides, darling, can you imagine Lucy strangling someone? She’s much too fastidious.”

  “I must admit that’s my feeling, but you know I can’t go by my feelings. I’ll have to treat her like the rest.”

  “It’s not really a woman’s crime, is it? Besides being gruesomely grotesque, wouldn’t it take a lot of strength? Lady Eva was pretty hefty.”

  “Not if the victim was taken by surprise, in her sleep, say, as seems likely. By the time she awaked and realized what was happening it would be too late to struggle. Unconsciousness comes quite quickly.”

  “Thank heaven for that.”

  Daisy was looking pale again, but Alec failed to see how he could avoid the subject entirely, unless he cut her out of the investigation altogether. She’d be furious if he tried, and her views on the people involved, apart from Lucy, were too valuable to lose.

  “Were you there when Lucy heard the news?” he asked. “How did she react?”

  “You have to understand that she was already in a blue funk over the wedding. When the maid who found the body started screaming, she hid her head under the pillow and pretended she … Alec, I’ve just thought of something. Have you seen Lady Eva’s room?”

  “Not yet. You know I just arrived. Unfortunately Sir Leonard had the body removed to the mortuary, but Crummle had everything photographed and the pictures are being developed. Why?”

  “There were feathers all over the place.”

  “Ah, Sir Leonard didn’t mention that.”

  “From a ripped pillow. It seems to me the only reason for a pillow seam to split is that the murderer first tried to smother her with it and she fought back. Also, she was hanging off the side of the bed, as if she’d been pulled.”

  “He didn’t mention that, either.”

  “So it must have been someone strong.”

  “Not particularly,” Alec said grimly. “Suffocation is as much a woman’s crime as a man’s. And when it failed and the stocking came into play …”

  “It was a stocking? But that doesn’t have to mean it was a woman. Anyone can buy a pair of stockings. It could have been either a man who brought one on purpose or a woman who happened to have one in her pocket. But with Lady Eva struggling, we come back to the need for strength.”

  “Not necessarily. Half-suffocated, she might be quite feeble. Besides, at that point her murderer couldn’t afford to let her live. He—or she—would have the strength of desperation.”

  8

  Gloomy, disgruntled and belligerent, Detective Inspector Crummle trudged the length of the library, saying, “Sir Leonard ordered me to report to you, sir. He’s gone to see Lord Haverhill. Sergeant Tring is talking to the servants. Which I’ve already done.”

  “Inspector Crummle? How do you do.” Alec stood up and shook hands. The courtesy invoked no spark of cheer in the local man. “Daisy, we’re just about done, aren’t we? I’ll see you later. All right, Inspector, let’s have your report, and then you can take me up to see the victim’s room. Take a seat.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Crummle sat down heavily in the chair Daisy had just vacated. “Pursuant to a telephone call received at—”

  “Yes, yes, let’s skip all that.” Alec pretended not to see Daisy turn on her way to the door and pull a face at him. “Tell me what you found when you arrived at Haverhill?”

  “I asked to see his lordship. The butler would have left me waiting in the hall, but I wasn’t having any of that, letting Lord Haverhill prepare himself. It’s no good letting your suspects prepare themselves. I followed the butler up.”

  No wonder the Earl had decided to bring in Scotland Yard. “You see Lord Haverhill as a suspect?” Alec asked. “Isn’t he in his eighties?”

  “But a very hearty old gentleman, as I could see the moment I set eyes on him. After interviewing him, I proceeded—”

  “Wait a bit. What did you learn from him?”

  “Nothing. He told me he had no information to assist me in bringing the investigation to a swift conclusion.”

  Alec didn’t ask why Crummle had believed Lord Haverhill. He had met this ambivalent attitude to the nobility before, a willingness to suspect them of crimes but not to question their statements. “So you then proceeded … ?” he said.

  “I proceeded to instruct the butler, a man by the name of Baines, to show me to the scene of the crime and to send my men to me there.”

  Judging by his description of his activities thereafter, Crummle had managed the scene of the crime quite competently. Photographs had been taken, fingerprints dusted for. The local GP had turned up, followed shortly by the police surgeon, who had been forced to agree on the obvious cause of death.

  “And I would’ve left the body where it was,” said Crummle, belligerence to the fore, “for my superintendent to see, or you as it turned out, but Sir Leonard had it taken away. Said it was upsetting the family.”

  “It’s a pity I didn’t see it as it was found,” Alec agreed, the nearest he could come to criticizing the Chief Constable to the inspector. “I’ll go and have a look in the morgue but it’s not quite the same thing. When will the photos be ready?”

  Crummle took out his watch. “My sergeant’s developing and printing them quick as he can. With luck he’ll be back with them in an hour or so.”

  “What did you find in the way of fingerprints?”

  “The outside doorknob was a mess, having been used by two maids, Mrs. Timothy Fotheringay, and Mrs. Fletcher.” The inspector pronounced this last name with a hint of malicious satisfaction, but went on to admit, “Not that it’d likely have made much difference if they’d’ve all used kid gloves. The inside knob, that her ladyship and her ladyship’s maid must have used, was wiped clean. Everything else in the room seems to be one of theirs or the housemaid that cleaned. I’ll have to wait for the photos of the dabs to be sure.”

  “Sir Leonard tells me you’ve ruled out the servants.”

  “The doors between the servants’ wing and the rest of the house are locked from midnight till half past six. It seems servants today won’t stand for being summoned at all hours. Lord Haverhill’s anxious to keep his staff happy, so his household and guests know they can’t come if called. The butler has the key. He can be rung for in an emergency.”

  “And the exterior doors?”

  “All shut and bolted.”

  “One wasn’t. At least, I understand it was opened and left unlocked for an appreciable time. Miss—” Alec checked his notes. “—Miss Angela De
venish told my wife she went down at one this morning to let her brother Edward in.”

  Crummle stared at him with understandable resentment. “Miss Devenish told Mrs. Fletcher?”

  It wasn’t fair that Alec had an inside source of information, but the inspector would have to live with it. “Miss Devenish had to wait some time for her brother. I don’t know whether she stayed near the door all the time.”

  “She’ll say she wandered off,” Crummle prophesied, “so an intruder could have entered. Give us someone else to look at outside the family. These nobs all stick together.”

  “What she’ll say remains to be seen,” said Alec, beginning to lose patience. He stood up. “Come on, show me Lady Eva’s room. On the way you can tell me what else you’ve learnt.”

  Crummle had not learnt much. The servants had answered direct questions willingly enough, but had not volunteered information, and the inspector had failed to ask the right questions. However, Tom Tring could be relied upon to rectify his omissions.

  As Alec and the inspector made their way upstairs, the house seemed oddly deserted. Early afternoon on a fine June day—normally one would expect people to be outside enjoying themselves. But today was not normal. Alec suspected the inhabitants were huddled in bedrooms and sitting rooms, trying to decide alone or in small groups just what they were going to tell him when the questions began.

  A uniformed constable guarded the door of the victim’s room.

  “It’s locked and I’ve got the key,” said Crummle defensively, “but there’s likely another key around somewhere.” He hesitated, then added with extreme reluctance, “Mrs. Fletcher locked the door a few minutes after the body was discovered and gave the key to the butler, and he posted a footman here, too. Apart from me and my men, the only person in there since the maid with the tea started screaming is Mrs. Timothy Fotheringay. Seems she was a nurse in the War. Mrs. Fletcher sent her in to check whether the victim was quite dead.”

  “And the doctors and the ambulance men who took away the body?”