Chapter 13
“What’s going on here?”
Daisy heard the question, recognized Alec’s voice, but at the same time she was patting Aunt Vickie’s hand while Binkie—no, Gerald—fanned her with a magazine, beseeching, “Daisy, Fletcher hasn’t really arrested Lucy, has he?
” Oliver knelt on the floor on the other side of the chair where the limp, white-faced woman slumped, patting her other hand.
“I keep telling her,” Daisy said, “she went to see him entirely off her own bat.”
The crowd parted and Alec came through.
“Thank heaven!” said Daisy. “Aunt Vickie, here’s Alec now. Darling, tell her you haven’t arrested Lucy!”
“Mrs. Fotheringay, I have not arrested Lucy. I have one question to put to you.” With his dark, fierce eyebrows lowered in one of his most forbidding frowns, he gazed around the faces all agog surrounding them. “Privately.”
The surplus population melted away, going to stand about the room in twos and threes muttering together with many a sidelong glance.
“I shall stay with my wife,” declared Oliver, rising creakily from his knees.
“By all means, sir.”
“Daisy!” said Mrs. Oliver faintly, gripping Daisy’s hand.
“I shan’t leave you, Aunt Vickie.” Daisy looked up at Alec with a lively interest mixed with a trace of concern. He had not arrested Lucy, but that didn’t mean he was not about to.
Alec raised his eyebrows at Gerald.
“Oh, righty-ho,” said that gentleman in confusion, and retreated to hover in no-man’s-land.
“Mrs. Fotheringay, did you go to your daughter’s bedroom last night?”
“Why, yes.” A tinge of colour was returning to Aunt Vickie’s face, to Daisy’s relief. Nancy appeared with a glass of brandy, pressed it into her hand, and discreetly retreated. “Lucinda hasn’t been sleeping well, you see, so I got a powder from my sister-in-law—”
“Your sister-in-law?”
“Oliver’s sister-in-law, really. Marjorie, Henry’s wife.
She suffers from neuralgia—hardly surprising, the way those girls of hers squabble—and always has bromides by her in case she can’t sleep.
I took one to Lucinda, and a glass of warm milk.
She didn’t want to take it, but I mixed the powder into the milk and made her drink it, to the last drop. ”
“What did you do with the glass?”
“I rinsed it at the basin in the bathroom and left it there.” She sniffed the brandy, wrinkled her nose, and handed it to Oliver, who took a gulp.
“I saw it this morning!” said Daisy. “I share a bathroom with Lucy. I was going to use it to brush my teeth but it looked sort of murky, you know, the way a milk glass does if it’s not washed thoroughly. Darling, this means you can cross Lucy off your list.”
“I must have a word with Mrs. Henry. Is she here?”
“Yes, I’ll fetch her over, shall I?” Oliver offered.
“No, point her out to me, if you don’t mind.”
Alec went off to confirm the story.
“Does this mean he doesn’t suspect Lucinda any longer?” Aunt Vickie asked, hopeful yet fearful.
“He just has to ask Mrs. Henry about the dosage and that sort of thing. You’re all right now, aren’t you? I’d better go and put poor Gerald out of his misery.”
Gerald was on tenterhooks. “Fletcher doesn’t really believe Lucy’s involved in this beastly business, does he?” he demanded.
“What he believes has nothing to do with it. He has to look at the facts, and Lucy is one of Lady Eva’s heirs. He’s delighted to clear her, I promise you.”
“She’s in the clear, what?”
“As good as. I doubt Alec’s suspicions would stretch as far as a conspiracy between Lucy, Aunt Vickie, and Mrs. Henry.”
“Must have suspected Lucy and me of conspiring,” Gerald pointed out. “Lucy couldn’t have killed her uncle. I couldn’t have killed Lady Eva.”
“True.”
“If Lucy’s cleared, so am I. Here he comes. What-ho, Fletcher.”
“What-ho, Bincombe,” Alec returned genially. “You and Lucy are out of it, I’m glad to say. I don’t suppose you’ve remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary when you entered the conservatory?”
“Sorry, old chap. Told you, I saw Lord Fotheringay lying there and as soon as I realized he was not breathing I concentrated on trying to revive him.”
“But you’ve had time to think about it since. Even the slightest impression of some small detail might help.”
Gerald flushed. “Other things to think about,” he muttered.
“Well, put your mind to it, there’s a good fellow. If anything occurs to you, come and see me right away.”
Over Alec’s shoulder, Daisy saw Sally and Rupert approaching.
“Watch out, darling,” she murmured, “the fire-breathing Lieutenant Colonel is upon us.”
“My husband, Mrs. Fletcher,” Sally introduced him. She looked nervous and Daisy wondered whether she had felt the rough side of his tongue.
“How do you do, Colonel. I don’t suppose you remember me, Lucy’s friend? I was Daisy Dalrymple when I last visited Haverhill.”
“Afraid not.” Cold, arrogant eyes passed over her indifferently. “How do you do.”
“This is my husband, Alec Fletcher. And do you know Gerald Bincombe?”
“Bincombe.” Rupert gave Gerald a cursory nod of recognition, which was returned in kind, without cordiality on either side. He turned to Alec. “Well, Inspector,” he said with a sneer, “I see you are hard at work hunting down my great-aunt’s murderer.”
“And your father’s,” Alec responded levelly.
“Oh, as to that, you’re wasting your time. I’m sure you’ll find it’s a mare’s nest. My father was in poor health. But I suppose the kudos is greater if you can claim to have solved two murders rather than one.”
“On the contrary. Two murders are often easier to solve than one. A second death by the same hand is apt to provide clues which aid in solving the first.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re hoping Father was murdered.”
“I never hope for any man’s damnation.” Alec’s grey eyes were icy.
The look that made subordinates shiver, suspects shudder, and malefactors wish they were at the North Pole had its effect on the Lieutenant Colonel, who blinked, visibly taken aback.
“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. ”
Daisy went out to the hall with Alec. “That was a ripping line,” she congratulated him, “though I’m not absolutely sure what you meant by it.”
“Nor am I!” he admitted with a rueful laugh. “I suppose I had it in
mind that disposing of Lady Eva might conceivably be viewed as a form of self-defence, but there’s no possible justification for Lord Fotheringay’s murder.”
“So doing him in would damn the murderer.”
“Something like that. Not a suitable conjecture for a policeman. My job is to make a present of him to the courts for judgment, not to St. Peter. Daisy, now you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’re quite certain no one was about here in the hall when you and Lucy went to the conservatory?
You didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone on the terrace? ”
Daisy shook her head regretfully. “Sorry, darling. Whoever put the stuff in the tea had plenty of time to get away. Gerald had been working on the poor old chap for several minutes before we arrived. I’m sure he was too engrossed in his artificial respiration to notice much else.”
“If he did see anything, it’s been driven from his mind by this nonsense of Lucy’s,” Alec grumbled. “She’s not serious about calling it all off, is she?”
“Just at present, yes. Tomorrow, who knows?”
“It’s not like her to be so indecisive.”
“She’s just confused.”
“No doubt that’s why she didn’t mention having taken a bromide until I asked whether she’d heard any sounds in the night.”
“She’s not used to being involved in police investigations,” Daisy excused her friend.
“At least I’ve eliminated her and Bincombe, which is about all I’ve accomplished so far!”
“Cheer up, darling. It may seem like forever but you’ve only been here a few hours, and you’ve had an extra murder on your hands.”
“Which, according to what I told the gallant Lieutenant Colonel, will make my job easier. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Impossible!”
“Yes.” He gave her a rueful grin. “But a policeman ought to find it
possible. You’re giving me ideas above my station. I shan’t be able to expect any cooperation from him now.”
“You couldn’t have anyway. Luckily, he wasn’t here, and his grandfather is still in charge at Haverhill.”
“True. I’d better go and see if Tom has managed to retrieve any further information that Lucy didn’t think to give us. And you’d better go and lie down for a bit before dinner, love. You’re looking a little worn.”
“Two murders in one day is a trifle wearing,” Daisy admitted, standing on tiptoe to kiss Alec on the nose.
Then she went upstairs to put her feet up and try to work out how she was going to explain Lucy’s state of mind to Gerald after dinner when she didn’t understand it herself and wasn’t sure Lucy did.
Alec returned to the library. Lucy looked round and raised elegantly arched eyebrows.
“All confirmed,” he said. “It’s not that I doubted you, Lucy, but …”
“I know, Sergeant Tring has explained to me that you’ll have to explain to the Chief Constable why you haven’t arrested me.
I’m afraid I haven’t remembered seeing or hearing anything or anyone.
We’ve been trying to work out what Uncle Aubrey could have observed that might have led you to Aunt Eva’s murderer. It’s a bit of a puzzler.”
“We haven’t had time to put our minds to it, Chief, but Lord Fotheringay slept in the family wing, the other side of the house from the scene of the crime.”
“Your uncle wasn’t a nocturnal rambler?”
“For all I know he came down every night to make sure his plants were tucked up cosily in their beddy-byes. But the straightforward way would be down the main stairs and across the hall, not round by the guest bedrooms.”
“Hmm, it’s something we’ll have to consider later, when I can talk to Lady Fotheringay. In the meantime, I have a long list of people to see this evening, so …”