Chapter 13 #2
“The last time I remember checking, it was past three.”
“You’re prepared to swear neither you nor Cheringham left your room before then?”
“Absolutely,” said Frieth with confidence. “He couldn’t possibly have left without my knowing. You see, our bedroom is pretty small. The only way he can get out of the camp-bed without tipping it up is to climb over my bed.”
His certainty was convincing. Alec decided to let him go. He could always get back to him later, and he wanted to see Cheringham before Tom returned with Bott.
As Frieth and Piper left the library, Daisy waltzed in. Though her curls were flattened by hat and heat, her blue eyes sparkled and she looked decidedly pleased with herself.
“Alec, darling.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ve had a too, too marvellous interview with Prince Henry. He actually said it
was a great pity ‘our American cousins’ hadn’t entered a crew this year, only two men in the single sculls. My editor will be thrilled to death.”
“Lucky man,” Alec grunted.
“Have you had a frightful afternoon? I would have come back earlier, but Betty’s brother was rowing in the last race, the Stewards’ Cup final, so I couldn’t ask them to drive me home till it was over.
It was too frightfully hot to walk. Would you believe, I only had one glass of champagne because it made me even hotter, so I switched to lemonade. ”
He smiled. “You’re bubbling as if you’d been drinking champagne all afternoon.”
“Well, it’s been a most successful day, and if I’d been here, you’d only have said I was meddling.
But you haven’t heard all of it. The two Americans who rowed in the Diamond Sculls were presented to Prince Henry while I was there, and when he moved on I talked to them, getting their views on the Regatta.
They’re enjoying it, even though they were both beaten by the same Leander rower.
Nice chaps, one from Boston and the other from somewhere called Duluth.
Believe it or not, the Boston one’s called Codman. ”
“‘Good old Boston, the home of the bean and the cod,’” Alec quoted.
Daisy giggled. “I didn’t like to ask him about it. They’ve been invited to Phyllis Court this evening. You will be able to come with me, won’t you?”
“I don’t know, love. I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
“Then it will do you good to get away from the investigation for a while,” Daisy said decisively. “From a distance you’ll be able to see the whole picture instead of getting bogged down in details.”
“I do feel as if I’m too close to the trees for a good view of the wood,” Alec admitted.
“A couple of hours away may help, and it’ll give Ernie a chance to write up his notes so that we can study them.
Also, dining here with the people I’ve been interrogating promises to be uncomfortable, to say the least.”
“Spiffing! I must go and wash my hair. It’s positively glued to my head. We ought to leave here by twenty to eight at the very latest,” she added as Piper came in with Cheringham. “Tom will bring the Chummy back by then, won’t he? We passed him heading into town.”
“Yes, he’s just gone to pick up Horace Bott.”
Cheringham perked up. “You’ve found Bott? Then this whole ghastly business will be over soon.”
Daisy turned towards him, opening her mouth. Alec gave her a warning glare. She shut her mouth, wrinkled her freckled nose at him, and departed.
Alec invited Cheringham to sit down, ignoring the intrusive ring of the telephone. If it was for him, Gladstone would inform him. He was rather surprised it hadn’t been ringing like billy-oh—somehow the Press hadn’t yet discovered where DeLancey had been staying.
“What makes you think finding Bott is the answer?”
“Because he’s the one who hit DeLancey,” said Cheringham impatiently.
“Oh, I don’t blame him, and I dare say it was self-defence, but after all he shouldn’t have been anywhere near the boat-house.
He must have been going to bash in the boat.
I must say, I never would have thought he’d be such an idiot.
Dottie’s always going on about how brilliant he is. ”
“Intelligence and common sense don’t always go hand-in-hand.”
“Is that a dig at me? I’m not really jealous of her admiring
Bott, you know. It’s only his brain she respects. She has too much common sense to—Now, there you are, Dottie’s both brainy and practical.”
“Miss Carrick doesn’t believe Bott’s our culprit.”
Jealous or not, Cheringham flushed. “What’s more important is, do you?” he asked with a touch of truculence.
“My beliefs are unimportant. I need evidence.”
But all Alec’s questions elicited nothing to change the picture. Though Cheringham was by no means so straightforward a character as Frieth, nor so tolerantly peaceable, his words rang true. He had not left their bedroom last night, could not have done so without disturbing his friend.
Neither Cheringham nor Frieth was so stupid as to lie about anything so easily disproved, though Alec would send Tom to check the room anyway.
He glanced at his watch. If Tom was not back yet with Bott, not to mention Alec’s dinner-jacket, Daisy would have to leave for Phyllis Court alone. He didn’t like to think of her fraternising with those two American rowers, without his escort.
Not that he was jealous.
“Piper, please go and see if Sergeant Tring is here,” he ordered. Turning to Cheringham, he said, “In view of our future relationship, I hope you’ll excuse my probing.”
“Lord, yes.” Cheringham stood up and offered his hand. “No hard feelings. You’re just doing your job, and if Rollo and I had done a better job of keeping DeLancey off Bott’s back, you might have been able to enjoy a peaceful weekend. I hope you manage a bit of revelry tonight.”
“I’ll try.” Alec shook his hand, breathing a silent sigh of relief.
It didn’t look as if he was going to have to arrest any of Daisy’s relatives.
Cheringham left. Piper returned, followed by a short, slight young man with a fearsome scowl.
Tom brought up the rear. He introduced Alec with a mild courtesy obviously designed to give the cox nothing to complain about. “Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, sir. Sir, this is Mr. Bott.”
“What the … ?” Bott started belligerently.
Alec interrupted him with a cordial, “Do sit down, won’t you, Mr. Bott? Excuse me a moment. I have one or two instructions to give my sergeant.”
The wind taken out of his sails, Bott sulkily subsided into the chair. Alec moved away with Tom and in a low voice told him to give Cheringham and Frieth’s room a look-over. “By the way, did any of the servants see Bott last night?” he added.
“Mr. Gladstone and the parlour-maid both saw him come in about twenty past eight, when they were serving dinner. No one saw him after. I fetched your bags, Chief. Mr. Gladstone said to tell you young Fosdyke telephoned. He’ll stop at the Catherine Wheel tonight, with his pa.
Lady Cheringham wants to know, do you want me and Ernie to stay the night in his room, the one he shared with Mr. DeLancey? ”
“Yes, bless her!” Turning back to Bott, Alec caught an apprehensive look, quickly wiped away.
“What the hell’s all this about?” Bott demanded. “I suppose you think you can pick on me because I’m not one of the nobs.”
“Everyone in the house has been questioned, Mr. Bott. Basil DeLancey’s dead.”
“Dead!” Was that a flicker of panic in his eyes, along with the astonishment?
Alec would swear he was genuinely astonished. “He was hit in the boat-house last night and died this morning of the delayed effect of his injuries. We have reason to believe you went to the boat-house last night.”
“Reason to believe? What the hell does that mean? I had no reason to go anywhere near the boat-house, and I didn’t.”
“We found one of your tent-pegs in the bushes.”
Again a flicker of dismay, then Bott became condescendingly logical. “One tent-peg is very like another. Can you prove it’s mine? If so, that doesn’t prove either that I was the one who put it there, or that it only got there last night.”
Inarguable, and just what Alec had already recognised. “You threatened DeLancey.”
“I did. I had good cause. What has that to do with the boat-house?”
“DeLancey believed you intended to sabotage the boat to get your revenge on him.”
“I’m not responsible for DeLancey’s beliefs. I repeat, I did not enter the boat-house last night.”
And Bott continued to reiterate his denial, even when Alec assured him the police would aim for a verdict of self-defence.
Those moments of fear weren’t evidence, nor even necessarily an indication of guilt.
Bott was convinced the world had it in for him, and learning that one was suspected of murder was enough to frighten anyone.
As he said, he was not responsible for DeLancey’s notions.
The odds against his happening to choose the method of revenge that DeLancey happened to suspect must be huge—unless he had heard talk of it.
Everyone, including the servants, should have been asked
whether they had mentioned the matter to Bott, or seen him in a position to overhear others mention it. Now it would have to wait until tomorrow, Alec thought wearily.
So would his visit to the boat-house and inspection of the oar. He needed to discuss with Tom what he had learnt from the servants, and to go over Piper’s reports of the interviews. He needed to step back and see the whole case in perspective.
He needed to go and change into evening clothes at once if he and Daisy were not to arrive late at Phyllis Court.
“I’ll talk to you again tomorrow,” he said to Bott. “Don’t go anywhere, please, without informing my officers.”
Bott stalked out. That he had been evasive, Alec was certain. That he was DeLancey’s assailant, Alec was more than half-convinced. That it could ever be proved, Alec doubted.
He needed a confession, and it seemed highly unlikely that Bott would oblige.