Chapter 5
Daisy and Lucy were alone in the dining room when the summons came.
Lucy had suddenly realized she was ravenous and, most unlike her usual abstemious self, had taken two sausages to go with her toast and coffee.
Just to keep her company, Daisy had another cup of coffee and a piece of marmaladed toast. After all, she was eating for two.
An elderly uniformed constable with squeaky boots came in. “Mrs. Fletcher? Inspector Crummle wants to see you first, ma’am, in the liberry.”
“Me?” Maybe the unpromising Crumble had some sense after all and would listen to her suggestions.
“Well, ma‘am, not strictly first, seeing he’s talked to Mr. Walsdorf as ’phoned up the station. But Mr. Walsdorf says it was you as told him to ring up us instead of the local chap, and the Inspector says all right then he’ll see you first.”
“Right-oh,” said Daisy, swallowing a last bite of toast.
“Darling, do you want me to come and hold your hand?” Lucy asked anxiously.
In front of the constable, Daisy didn’t care to point out that she was quite used to being questioned by detectives. She had never actually confessed to Lucy just how often she inadvertently stumbled
into police cases. If Lucy were present, she wouldn’t be able to speak freely about the family, so she said, “Thanks, darling, but they’re not allowed to use the ‘third degree’ à l’américaine. I’ll be all right. Why don’t you ring Binkie? You really mustn’t put it off any longer.”
Lucy pulled a face. “Yes, I’d better, though he’ll be at the office so I shan’t be able to talk to him properly. Right-oh. Good luck, Daisy.”
Accompanying her, the constable walked as if his feet hurt him.
“New boots?” Daisy asked sympathetically.
“Bought ‘em last week. They pinch something chronic. I were just getting the old pair wore in nicely when the Inspector up and said they’re a disgrace to the Force. And me retiring in a year and a half!” The constable was indignant. “Won’t hardly have time to wear ’em in.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to use them for gardening.”
“Now there’s a thought! The missus has been on about getting an allotment when I retire. The price of cabbages and taters has gone up something shocking since the War. Here we are, madam.” He opened the library door and ushered her in. “Mrs. Fletcher, sir.”
Detective Inspector Crummle did not so much as glance up from the papers he had scattered across Walsdorf’s usually neat desk. Daisy decided she was being put in her place.
She wondered whether Lord Haverhill had persuaded the Chief Constable to get in touch with Scotland Yard.
Lucy was right: Alec would be more acceptable to her family.
What she probably had not considered was that he would also be better able to cope with them.
They might intimidate Inspector Crummle, but not Chief Inspector Fletcher.
Daisy went over to the desk, sat down on the chair Walsdorf had placed for her earlier, and waited.
This did not bode well for her intention of helping Crummle.
She realized the poor man was bound to feel rather out of his depth among lords and ladies, but being discourteous wasn’t going to help him.
At last he looked up from his notebook.
Before he could speak, she asked kindly, “What can I do for you, Inspector?”
Disconcerted, then affronted, he snapped, “I’ll ask the questions, madam. I understand you discovered the deceased?”
“Gosh, no! One of the maids was taking round morning tea. She started screaming murder and most of the people in the bedrooms on that passage came out to see what was up. Another maid looked in and said Lady Eva was dead. Mr. Montagu Fotheringay, Lady Eva’s brother, wanted to go in but I stopped him.
I asked Nancy—Mrs. Timothy Fotheringay—to go in and check, because she was a nurse during the War.
She confirmed that Lady Eva had been murdered. ”
“So you didn’t even seen the cor—the deceased?”
“I did take a quick look before I went to telephone. I didn’t want to be responsible for a false alarm.
When I saw—well, I imagine you’ve seen for yourself.
There’s not really any question as to whether she was murdered, is there?
—I locked the door and gave the key to the butler, Baines. Then I came down here to telephone.”
“You seem to have taken a great deal upon yourself, Mrs. Fletcher.” The inspector scowled at her. “I understood from Mr. Walsdorf that you’re a guest at Haverhill, not a member of the family. Yet you took charge and everyone followed your instructions?”
“Not exactly.” Daisy hesitated, extremely reluctant to explain her unorthodox credentials to the touchy detective.
Apparently the desk officer who took John Walsdorf’s call hadn’t told Crummle about Alec.
With luck—lots of luck—he’d never have to find out.
“I suppose they turned to me because I’m not one of the family, so I’m able to view the tragedy with a clearer head. ”
“Hmph.” His pale blue eyes held nothing but scepticism.
More to stop him pursuing that line of thought than for any other reason, Daisy said, “There’s one more thing I ought to tell you. Lady Eva was an inveterate collector of gossip and scandal. I believe she kept records at her place in London of all the information she gathered.”
“London!”
“Have to ask the Yard for help, sir,” observed the constable with malicious satisfaction.
Crummle looked as if he’d rather die the death of a thousand cuts. Daisy awaited his response with interest and a certain trepidation, but it never came. The door opened, a breezy voice said “No need to announce me,” and a short, thin man limped in.
The inspector jumped to his feet. “Sir!”
“Sit down, my dear chap, sit down. I see you’re hard at work already?” He looked at Daisy.
“This is Mrs. Fletcher, sir. She’s helping me with my enquiries.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Fletcher. Fletcher? Aha! Crowe’s the name, Sir Leonard Crowe. I’m the Chief Constable of this county. You won’t mind if I just interrupt for long enough to give the good inspector a bit of news?”
“Not at all, Sir Leonard.”
“Excellent!”
Daisy read complicity in his regard and knew what was coming. “Perhaps I should leave?” she said hopefully.
“Oh, no, no, no, dear lady. Quite unnecessary.” Turning back to Crummle with a guilty air, Sir Leonard hesitated.
The inspector beat him to it. “It is my duty to inform you, sir, that Mrs. Fletcher here claims the deceased was a blackmailer.”
“I never said anything of the sort!”
“Pardon me, madam, but I have it down here in black and white.” He studied his notebook. “Here: ‘veteran collector of scandal. Kept records.’”
“Yes, but I’m sure she never used them to extort money. I can’t think of anything less likely.”
“Good gracious, no!” The Chief Constable was horrified. “My dear Inspector, a lady of the unhappy victim’s social standing simply doesn’t stoop to extortion.”
“There’s other kinds of blackmail,” Crummle said obstinately,
“like making people do what you want. And there’s just plain mischief-making, like telling a wife her husband’s been seen in Brighton with a chorus girl. And I’ve known them that’ll tell a person they know something just to enjoy watching them squirm.”
In spite of his curious syntax, the Inspector was making sense. “But I don’t think it was any of those,” Daisy said. “I think she just enjoyed knowing. It gave her a feeling of power, though she would never use the knowledge.”
“Ah, you can say Lady Eva wouldn’t stoop to it, madam, but you can’t be sure. And no more could the people she found out about be sure she wouldn’t tell. And to my mind, that’s motive enough for murder, sir.”
Sir Leonard sighed. “You may be right.”
“Mrs. Fletcher here says the deceased kept her records at her house in London, sir. I’ll have to send a man up to take a look.”
“Can’t spare anyone,” Sir Leonard said with suspicious promptitude.
“Look here, my dear chap, we’d have to notify the Metropolitan Police before intruding upon their bailiwick.
Why not just ask them to see what they can find at Lady Eva’s?
And once they’re involved, why not ask ’em to give you a hand down here? ”
“I’ve got everything well in hand,” Crummle protested, with no great conviction.
“What you’ve got is a whacking great house full of important people any number of whom may turn out to be suspects. They’re not going to take kindly to being questioned. Now wouldn’t you rather they vented their spleen at some London chappie, not at you?”
“You can be sure I’ll do my duty, sir, without fear nor favour.”
“Naturally, naturally. I don’t mean to suggest otherwise.
” A note of desperation entered Sir Leonard’s voice.
“The fact is, my dear fellow, I’m bound to take Lord Haverhill’s wishes into account.
As long as they don’t run counter to my duty, of course!
I hardly think a request for a detective from Scotland Yard can be regarded as beyond the pale. ”
“His lordship wants a Yard man on the case?” Crummle demanded angrily.
“’Fraid so. No reflection on your competence, Inspector, no reflection at all. But as a matter of fact, I’ve already been on to a chap I know, Superintendent Crane, and he’s sending us one of his best men, a chief inspector.”
Sir Leonard had funked mentioning the chief inspector’s name, Daisy noted. Or perhaps he was being tactful not mentioning it in her presence. With luck, Crummle would finish with her before he found out her husband was to take over his case.
Sir Leonard was making soothing noises about how much the London DCI would appreciate Crummle’s groundwork as a strong basis for the investigation. “Fingerprints, I suppose, and photographs and all that. Dr. What’s-his-name, the police surgeon, never can remember his name, he’s been already, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” grunted Crummle, unsoothed. “Dr. Philpotts.”