Chapter 18
“Those were his exact words?” Alec demanded.
Daisy peered at her shorthand, her own peculiar brand of Pitman’s.
Since no one else could read it and Alec wanted a verbatim report, he had been forced to include her in his conference with his sergeant, in the nurses’ sitting room.
He couldn’t object. Tom had not wanted to stem the flow of Bott’s revelations while he wrote down every word, and Alec admitted he had not expected Bott to come round so soon or speak so readily.
“‘Cedric DeLancey killed his brother,’” Daisy repeated. “After that, Bott refused to say another word. Then Sister came in and shooed Sergeant Tring and me out. She let Susan stay, though, and I shouldn’t be surprised if she persuaded him he simply has to back up a statement like that.”
“Not to mention explaining why he didn’t tell me sooner,” Alec agreed grimly. “Tom, what about the Mauser?”
“Nicely polished, Chief.” Tom’s face was bland.
“Not even smears or smudges? There couldn’t have been a struggle for it?”
“Not unless both parties was wearing gloves.”
“DeLancey says he wore gloves. Bott did not, at least not when we pulled him out, and I doubt he was in the river long enough for them to wash off.”
“Lord DeLancey says they struggled for the pistol?” Daisy asked.
“He says Mr. Bott took the pistol and shot himself, miss,” Piper informed her.
“Suicide! I wouldn’t have said he acted at all like someone who just failed to commit suicide, would you, Mr. Tring?”
“Can’t say I would, miss. Did Lord DeLancey say why Mr. Bott wanted to kill himself, Chief?”
Alec frowned at him, looked at Daisy, and sighed. “Guilt, and fear of hanging. I suppose you might as well hear the rest.” He gave one of his admirable nutshell summaries of his interview with DeLancey. “Have I missed anything, Ernie?”
Piper had skimmed his orthodox-shorthand notes as Alec spoke. “Not really, Chief, just that Lord DeLancey was in a state over getting written about in the newspapers, same as last time.”
“It seems to be all he cares about,” said Daisy.
“If you ask me, this whole affair came about because of Lord DeLancey’s fear of gossip.
That’s what he quarrelled with Basil about after the Thames Cup heat, so if it’s true that he killed him …
. There’s only one way Bott could know, isn’t there, Alec? ”
“Only one I can think of. Unless his health would be seriously endangered, I have to try to get the rest of the story from him. I’d better consult Sister.”
“I’ll have a word with Susan,” Daisy volunteered, and escaped from the room before Alec could stop her.
She tapped on the door of Bott’s room. Opening it, Susan glanced past her, saw she was alone, and in a hushed voice invited her in.
“How is he?” Daisy whispered. Bott was lying flat, eyes shut, but his cheeks now had a tinge of colour, not feverish, just enough so he no longer appeared to be at death’s door.
It struck her how frightfully lucky he had been not to be killed, or at least seriously injured, by the bullet, and to have someone at hand to pull him out of the Thames.
Did he know who had rescued him? Neither she nor Tom Tring had told him, and she had not told Susan. Perhaps gratitude might persuade him to talk to Alec.
“His head hurts,” said Susan. “Sister gave him some tablets, phenatecin, I think.”
Phenacetin, presumably—a pain-killer, not sleep-inducing, as far as Daisy knew. She raised her voice a bit. “Good, he must be feeling better. He’ll be able to talk to Chief Inspector Fletcher.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bott’s eyelids flicker.
“I told him he’s going to have to, but he won’t.”
“No? Well, you know him much better than I do, but I should have thought he’d want to thank the man who saved his life.”
“Saved his life?” Susan exclaimed.
“Yes, didn’t you know? Maybe I didn’t mention it. We were on the river this morning when he fell in, and Mr. Fletcher jumped in to pull him out.” No need to confuse matters with Cherry’s part in the drama. A solo rescue was more impressive.
“Reelly?”
“Yes, so don’t you think he’ll want to express his gratitude?
Or—oh dear!—perhaps he isn’t grateful. Perhaps it’s true, as Lord DeLancey claims, that Mr. Bott was trying to commit suicide.”
“I was not!” shouted Bott.
Daisy turned and gave him a hard look. “No? But why should anyone believe you rather than him, when you won’t explain your claim that he killed Basil?”
“All right, I’ll tell,” said Bott sulkily, just as Alec burst in. Behind him, Sister came to a halt on the threshold, with Tom and Piper peering over her shoulders.
“Someone cried out!” Alec’s swift glance swept the room, far too small to conceal an intruder. His gaze came to rest on Daisy.
She gave him a smug smile. “Nothing to worry about,” she said. “You’ll be pleased to hear that Mr. Bott has now recovered sufficiently to tell you the rest of his story.”
Sister pushed past Alec to lay a hand on Bott’s forehead. “You’re rather flushed.” She clasped his wrist. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”
“Yes,” he said curtly.
“Well, your pulse is quite strong and steady, I must say. Ten minutes, Chief Inspector.” She glanced at the watch pinned to her apron and bustled out, Tom and Piper parting before her like the Red Sea before Moses.
“All right,” said Alec, “Piper, come in and take notes, please. Ladies …”
“I’m not leaving,” Susan said adamantly.
“Susie, I’ll be …”
“Don’t argue, Horace, I’m staying, and that’s that.”
He held out a hand to her, and she went to take it. “Mr. Fletcher,” he said with a meekness which astonished Daisy,
“what I’ve got to say is going to upset Miss Hopgood. I’d be glad if you’d let Miss Dalrymple stay with her.”
Alec closed his eyes, and his lips moved silently as if he were begging heaven for mercy, or counting very fast to ten. His eyes opened again. “As you wish, Mr. Bott. Sergeant Tring—” He went to the door and said something softly to Tom, who left.
Shutting the door, Alec moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “Horace Bott, I must warn you that what you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence in a court of law.”
“I haven’t done anything illegal. You can use it against Lord DeLancey.”
“Well?”
“First, I want to thank you,” Bott said, not very graciously. “Miss Dalrymple says it was you who saved me from drowning.”
“I merely assisted Mr. Cheringham in getting you ashore.”
“Cheringham? Oh. Well, thank you anyway. I was not trying to kill myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You claim Lord DeLancey tried to kill you to keep you quiet?”
“That’s right.”
“Because you witnessed his attack on his brother?”
“I heard them quarrelling in the Cheringhams’ boat-house in the middle of the night,” Bott said with relish.
That had to be it, of course, Daisy thought. Alec’s sharp nod showed that his mind had run on the same lines.
“Lord DeLancey saw you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. But everyone was so convinced I’d gone down there, I suppose he believed it.”
“You’re prepared to swear it was the DeLancey brothers you heard?”
“I know—knew—Basil’s voice all too well, and he called the man yelling at him ‘Ceddie.’”
“This is a very serious charge, Mr. Bott. You’ll understand that I need some more information to support it. Let’s start with exactly what they said.”
“I can’t remember the exact words. ‘Ceddie’ said something about being lucky the Ambrose Thames Cup heat was the first of the day and not interesting enough to bring out the reporters.
Otherwise, the newspapers would have been full of Basil’s assault on me.
But if I went to the boat-house and he assaulted me again, I’d be bound to sue and it couldn’t possibly be kept from the Press. ”
“And what was Basil’s response?” Alec prompted.
Bott flushed. “It was extremely insulting to me. You can’t expect me to repeat it.
But then he told Cedric to keep his hair on and stop interfering in what was none of his business.
Cedric shouted that it damn well was his business.
He was head of the family in their father’s absence and like it or not Basil would do what he was told.
Basil said he bloody well wouldn’t kowtow to a coward.
He yelled at Cedric to get out or he’d regret it.
I expected Cedric—if not both of them—to come out, so that’s when I left.
But that must have been when they started fighting. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday, Mr. Bott? Concealing information from the police is a serious offence.”
“I was sure you’d get onto Cedric DeLancey without my help, and until you caught up with him, I knew I’d be made the scapegoat if you found out I was anywhere near the boat-house. You wouldn’t even have hunted any further, would you?”
“It is not my practise to look for scapegoats,” Alec said coldly. “What were you doing near the boat-house in the middle of the night?”
With a sullen glare, Bott said, “I’m sure you can work that out for yourself, Chief Inspector.”
“Oh Horace!” Susan’s dismay escaped her.
He turned his head away from her.
“I might venture a guess,” Alec agreed. “You went to sabotage the fours boat.”
“Oh Horace, you promised not to do it!” She pulled her hand from his clasp.
“Well, I didn’t, did I?” he snarled, goaded.
“What put the idea into your head, Mr. Bott?” Alec asked. “To take your revenge on Basil DeLancey in that particular way, I mean.”
“It was at the fair,” said Susan, when Bott seemed reluctant to answer. “We were behind Miss Cheringham and Mr. Frieth in the queue for the Ferris wheel. They didn’t see us. Miss Cheringham asked Mr. Frieth if he was really sure Horace wouldn’t damage the boat.”
“Did you hear Mr. Frieth’s answer, Miss Hopgood?”
“Yes, he said it was just a silly idea Mr. DeLancey had got into his head. He couldn’t believe Horace would spoil things for him and Mr. Cheringham and Mr. Fosdyke just to get his own back on Mr. DeLancey. And Horace promised me he wouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Bott growled.