Chapter Seventeen
It felt like a day that would never end, but when I consulted the little watch pinned to my lapel, I found it was only three o’clock.
Taking statement after statement today had me wishing for the type of notebook Inspector Delaney often carried with him.
Failing that, I was eager to get home and write down everything I could remember.
The sun was working its way to the horizon, and the air was cooling again.
Pity, the warmest part of the day lasted such a short time, but we still had an hour of daylight.
That meant there was time enough to pay a call on the vicar to verify the alibis of Ada Penhollow and Beatrice.
One or both of them might be guilty, but as we left the Stray Dog and turned our steps to the vicarage, I couldn’t help wondering about Charlie Rallison.
What happened after he and the doctor left the pub?
Hetty distracted me with a touch on my arm. “I’m beginning to think that whoever did murder Dr. Penhollow chose this time carefully.”
That was something I had considered myself. “You think it was planned, then? How so?”
“It wouldn’t have to have been planned far in advance.
A storm was predicted for that night, although everyone expected it to result in a great deal of snow rather than rain.
Regardless, I would imagine that a heavy snowfall would have caused a disruption in services and a closure of the roads in the same way the storm did.
Robert indicated that such weather happened from time to time and that it was not uncommon for the police and some of the local men to go to an area in distress to lend a hand. ”
“Do you think the murderer expected the police to be gone and took advantage of the situation? Why? To delay the discovery of the body?”
Hetty seemed to like that idea. “Exactly. If the storm had produced the expected snow rather than rain, the body might have been covered up for several days.”
Her words gave me a chill. “I suppose that’s possible.
After all, with the police gone and the coroner dead, the murderer would never have expected one of us to launch an investigation.
A few days would have made a big difference in determining the time of Dr. Penhollow’s death, maybe even the cause of death, and what little evidence we did see would no longer be visible, like the trampled-down field.
” I gave her a smile. “I appreciate your view on the matter, but to be honest, the thought that someone plotted the doctor’s murder in advance makes me a bit queasy. I don’t suppose you have a suspect?”
“I’m afraid my powers of perception do not extend that far,” she said.
“What do you think of Charlie Rallison? He was openly hostile toward Dr. Penhollow but suddenly had a change of heart.”
“I don’t think that’s a fair characterization,” Hetty said. “It sounded as though both his wife and father have been pressing him to give up his anger. Besides, the two of them were in a public space while they were together. They ate nothing. How could Charlie have poisoned the man?”
I pointed at the empty pavement across the lane as we walked past. “Heavens! Did you see that, Aunt?”
Hetty glanced away, then back at me with a look of confusion.
“If you had been drinking, that was time enough to put poison in your glass,” I told her.
She scowled, but I persisted. “He would require only a matter of seconds to poison the doctor’s ale.
They were having a good conversation. Penhollow might not have noticed if his drink had a bitter taste.
When they parted, Charlie shook off Penhollow’s hand.
Does that mean he wasn’t ready to forgive and forget?
The following morning, when the doctor walked to the train, the poison took effect, and down he went. ”
“I’ll remind you, they were in a public place,” Hetty said.
“A very busy place, if Agnes is any judge, and I assume she is. Would Charlie have been so reckless as to take such an action where someone at the next table might see him? Once Dr. Penhollow was found dead, that person would surely mention the incident to Constable Ellis.”
I’d almost forgotten about the constable.
I had quite a bit of information to relay to him.
“I must reserve judgment on Charlie Rallison until I have a chance to speak to the man. I have no idea how reckless he may be, but I’ll remind you that Agnes also said he was drunk.
Isn’t one more likely to throw caution to the wind when drunk? ”
“You may be right,” Hetty said, “but if that is what happened, how do you account for Dr. Penhollow wearing the wrong boots?”
Bother! “I’m having difficulty accounting for the boots in any of my theories. Speaking with Nancy Rallison explained the meeting Beatrice thought her stepfather had. But nowhere have I come across an explanation for the boots. Unless…”
Hetty’s gaze sharpened.
“Unless Dr. Penhollow was wearing Charlie Rallison’s boots.”
“Yes, yes, the switching boots theory.” Hetty frowned. “Difficult to prove unless we find Dr. Penhollow’s boots.”
“Perhaps I should ask Ada about them,” I said. “Maybe her husband had no gum boots of his own. Maybe they belonged to the uncle who previously owned the house.”
“Speaking of Ada, I have another question,” Hetty said.
“What was she doing while her husband was at the pub? Was she waiting for him at the church? He was there for over an hour. Did she return home without him, leaving him without a carriage? If so, how did he get back home? The storm hadn’t started yet, but it was raining. ”
“Those are very good questions, for which I have no answers. Perhaps the vicar knows.”
“I also have to wonder why Ada never mentioned that her husband went to the pub after the play,” Hetty continued.
“I wonder about that, as well, but it might be as innocent as the fact that we never asked about her husband’s activity the previous evening. I made the assumption that they went home together. That was a mistake. Whatever Ada’s reason, I am not ready to exonerate Charlie Rallison.”
“What about the boots?” Hetty gave me a smug little smile.
“If Ada Penhollow poisoned her husband, what about the boots?”
“I shall concede we have two suspects,” Hetty said.
“I’ll concede that neither of them is the perfect suspect.”
“Quite true,” she said. “Mrs. Rallison said she expects her husband home tomorrow.”
“Along with the sergeant. I have never been so eager to turn an investigation back over to the police. Everyone we suspect seems to be a kind, decent person, but if you are right and this murder was planned, they are the exact opposite. I hate the thought of any of them being guilty.”
Hetty drew my arm through hers and gave my hand a reassuring pat. “Unfortunately, one of them must be.”
At this time of the afternoon, I feared we’d find Vicar Appleton having tea with Beatrice. That would make any questions we asked more than just a little awkward. Fortunately, he was in the church alone. Huzzah!
He gave us a welcoming smile and spread his hands wide as he squeezed along the last row of pews to meet us in the aisle.
“Ladies, I am delighted to see you so that I may thank you personally for your donations, though, of course, a letter of my thanks will be coming your way, as well. Your generosity will be of great assistance to the community.”
I assured him we were more than happy to be of service as I eyed his footwear, which was a black lace-up oxford. From my brief examination, I determined that his feet seemed to be similar in size to Dr. Penhollow’s, so the gum boots we had found were unlikely to belong to the vicar.
“I was wondering if you might help us sort out a few little odds and ends regarding our investigation of the death of Dr. Penhollow,” I said.
“Of course.” He clasped his hands together and adopted a more somber demeanor. “Shall we retire to the vicarage?”
Still wishing to avoid Beatrice, I declined his offer. “This should take but a moment.” I indicated the last row of pews. “Might we just ask you here?”
“Certainly. Please seat yourselves.” He remained standing while Hetty and I sat down.
“I understood you already spoke with Beatrice and her mother,” he said.
“If they were unable to answer your questions, I doubt very much that I can. I did not arrive at Penhollow Manor until after you delivered the sad news.”
“There were some questions we neglected to ask them,” I said. “We hoped you might know the answers. I understand Dr. Penhollow stopped at the Stray Dog after the Christmas performance. Were you aware of that, and do you happen to know why?”
The vicar brightened. “I do indeed. He told me he hoped to buy a pint for Charlie Rallison. He was quite delighted at the prospect. They’ve been at odds ever since Mrs. Rallison passed, so I was pleased to learn they were mending their rift.”
“Then he knew Charlie would be at the pub?”
The vicar looked away and pulled at his collar. “It was not uncommon for Mr. Rallison to be there.”
“I see. And Mrs. Penhollow chose not to accompany her husband?”
The vicar glanced at me in surprise. “I don’t know if he even asked her. I suspect this was something the doctor felt he should do on his own. Ada left the carriage with the doctor and had Maude, her housekeeper, take her home.”
I made a mental note to ask Maude to confirm this story. “And I suppose you and Beatrice simply walked home to the vicarage.”
“Of course.”
“Now, the following morning, can you tell us at what time Mrs. Penhollow arrived at the vicarage?”
“Here? Well, now, I must think about that.” He ran a hand through his wisps of hair and let his gaze drift up to the rafters, as if the answer were there.
“That would have been the morning after the storm,” I prompted.