Chapter 9 #2
I flapped my hands indignantly. “Both! Doctor Meadows isn’t dead. I saw him myself, just a few hours ago. And he was alive and well.”
His eyes sharpened. “So you did visit the infirmary this morning.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a confirmation of something already suspected—or alleged—but I nodded. “I did.”
“And he was alive when you left him.”
“Of course he was!”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“Christopher,” I said. And then—I wasn’t at my best, and I suppose that might explain it—my mind finally caught up with the implications. “Wait. You mean that it’s true?”
“What’s true?”
“About Doctor Meadows,” I said. “That he’s dead.”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“But he was alive just a few hours ago!”
“That’s usually how it happens,” Daniels said dryly.
“Well, I had nothing to do with it!”
“And you say that Mr. Astley can verify that?”
I nodded. “We were together the whole time. On the way there, while we were speaking to Doctor Meadows, and on the walk home.”
“You were never apart?”
“Not until we reached Sutherland Hall. Then, we were in our separate rooms for the time that it took to pack our bags. We were supposed to go home this afternoon. But that wasn’t long enough for either of us to run back to the village and attack the doctor.”
“And Mr. Astley will confirm this?”
“Of course he will,” I said. Not only was it true, but it was Christopher; he would confirm it whether it was true or not.
Constable Daniels hummed something under his breath. If it was supposed to sound like words, I couldn’t make out what they were. “What did you and Doctor Meadows talk about?”
“Lydia Morrison,” I said.
“Why would you inquire of Doctor Meadows about a woman who died in the Cotswolds?”
“His contact information was in her address book,” I said. “I thought they may have been in contact since she left here.”
Daniels eyed me. “How do you know who was in Miss Morrison’s address book?”
“Oh. Um… I happened to get a look at it?”
It sounded less certain and more like a question than I wanted it to. Constable Daniels lifted his lip. It wasn’t of the same quality as one of Crispin’s sneers, which are a thing of beauty, but he got his point across. “Try again, Miss Darling.”
“Fine.” I threw my hands up. “I snooped, all right? She had been murdered, and I was curious, and the address book was right there… You can’t blame me for taking a look.”
He looked like he could very much blame me for taking a look. But Morrison’s murder wasn’t his concern, nor was my involvement in it. After a moment, he abandoned the topic in favor of his own case. “When did you leave the infirmary this morning?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “We left Sutherland Hall after breakfast. I don’t know how long it took us to walk down to the village.
We spoke to Doctor Meadows for a few minutes.
I didn’t check the time when we left again.
We arrived back at Sutherland Hall about thirty minutes before luncheon.
We packed our bags, and prepared to leave. ”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Uncle Harold talked us into staying for luncheon,” I said.
Constable Daniels nodded. “And Doctor Meadows was alive when you left the infirmary.”
“Of course he was,” I said. “He said goodbye to us. Christopher and I let ourselves out the front door into the High Street.”
“Was anyone else about?”
I hadn’t seen anyone. Little Sutherland isn’t anything like a metropolis, and on a chilly, gloomy November day it’s even quieter than usual.
“Someone must have seen me, though,” I added.
“What makes you say that?”
I indicated the note, still sitting there on the surface of the desk. “If I hadn’t stirred from Sutherland Hall all day, I could have simply said so and this wouldn’t be an issue. Someone saw me in the village and decided to implicate me.”
Daniels eyed the note in silence for a second. “Any idea who that might be?”
“None. I don’t really know many people here. Aside from Doctor Meadows, most of the ones I know were up at the Hall.”
He didn’t respond to that, and I added, “Where did it come from? It couldn’t have been posted. Not between the time I last saw Doctor Meadows and when you came and fetched me from the Hall.”
That had been a matter of a hour and a half, at most. Probably less. Certainly not enough time to write a note, post it, and have it delivered. His Majesty’s Royal Mail doesn’t move that quickly.
“We don’t know of anyone else who has seen Doctor Meadows this morning,” Constable Daniels said. “You were alone at the infirmary?”
“Other than Christopher and Doctor Meadows, as far as I know. Although someone might have been in the back room, as long as they were quiet about it.”
He tilted his head. “Do you have any reason to think someone was there?”
“That’s where Doctor Meadows came from when we arrived,” I said. “He was in the middle of drying his hands and rolling down his sleeves.” I hesitated. “Although for all I know he might have been doing the washing up. He lives above the infirmary, doesn’t he?”
The constable nodded.
“Well, then I suppose he might have been upstairs when we arrived. I don’t think I heard anyone come down the stairs, though.”
“And what did you talk about?”
He waited with a pen poised over a piece of paper while I repeated the conversation that had taken place, as verbatim as I could recall it.
“And Mr. Astley will confirm this?” he asked at the end of it.
“Of course he will. He’s probably outside right now.”
I glanced at the front door. Daniels did the same, but he didn’t get up from behind the desk. “And that was when you left?
“That was when we left,” I confirmed. “We stood for a moment outside the front door while we pulled on our gloves and fastened our scarves, and then we walked back up the hill.”
“And when you got there?”
“We packed,” I said. “When we came down the stairs to leave, Uncle Harold talked us into staying for luncheon. And then you arrived.”
“But Doctor was definitely alive when you left the infirmary.”
I nodded. “Ask Christopher if you don’t believe me.”
I had thought that that might be enough for him to let me go, but no. He changed the subject again. “Tell me about the people up at the Hall. Who knew that you were going to the village this morning?”
“Everyone,” I said. “All the guests, and at least some of the staff. Francis and Constance took breakfast with us. So did Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert. And whoever wasn’t at breakfast would have heard us discuss it after dinner last night. I can’t imagine that anyone didn’t know.”
“Tell me again who’s at the Hall this weekend.” He pulled a clean piece of paper over to take notes.
“There’s Uncle Harold and Crispin, of course, and the staff.
You probably know them better than I do, but there’s Tidwell, and Mrs. Mason, and Cook, and Sadie—she’s the parlor maid—and Hugh and Alfie, the two footmen, and a kitchen maid, and a couple of chambermaids, and the grooms and gardeners. ...”
Sutherland Hall is a large estate, with a large staff. It made me long for my little flat in London, where all I had to worry about was Christopher and Evans the doorman.
Constable Daniels nodded for me to go on, and I did.
“The Earl and Countess of Marsden are visiting, with their son and daughter and a maid. The daughter is engaged to marry Crispin. They’ve all been here before, and I’m sure you must have seen them.
They aren’t the sort of people one would overlook. ”
Daniels nodded.
“Then there’s His Grace’s brother, Lord Herbert Astley, and his wife, Lady Roslyn. But they left during the time Christopher and I were in the village. I’m sure they’re back at Beckwith Place by now. It’s only about an hour’s drive from here.”
“Did you see them?” Daniels interrupted the smooth flow of my delivery.
I blinked at him for a moment while I recalibrated. “Before they left, do you mean? Yes, they were at breakfast. We said goodbye.”
And it had only been meant to be for a few hours anyway. We had been headed to Beckwith from here after luncheon.
“In the village,” Constable Daniels clarified. “Or in the lane coming or going?”
Oh. I shook my head. “I’m afraid we didn’t. They must have passed through Little Sutherland while we were inside the infirmary.”
Daniels nodded. “Go on, please.”
“There’s not a lot more to say,” I said. “Christopher and Francis are outside in the motorcar waiting for me. I’m sure you’ve met them both before. They’ve been visiting Sutherland Hall for decades.”
Daniels nodded.
“The only other guest is the Honorable Constance Peckham. She’s the niece of the Marsdens, and Laetitia and Geoffrey’s cousin, as well as Francis’s fiancée and an old friend of mine from school.”
“And then there’s you.”
I nodded. “Yes, of course.” I go where Christopher goes. Unless Christopher goes to a drag ball. Then I’m not allowed to come. But otherwise, we go together.
Daniels glanced down at the list of names he had scribbled. “You mentioned a maid?”
I had, in fact, mentioned a lot of maids. However— “Lady Marsden brought her maid along. Her name is Shreve. She’s the one who told us about Morrison.”
“What about Morrison?”
“That she had seen Morrison in Lower Slaughter,” I said. “That’s why we motored up there.”
“And found Morrison dead.”
“That’s correct.”
“And the reason you wanted to speak to Doctor Meadows this morning, was to ask him about Morrison.”
I nodded.
“Was he able to give you any of the answers you wanted?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “He said he hadn’t seen Morrison in more than twenty years, and he had no idea who might have wanted to kill her.”
Silence reigned for a moment, and then I added, “Would you mind telling me what happened to Doctor Meadows?”
He looked at me, with that expression that said, as clearly as words, that I must be stupid for missing the fact that the doctor was dead.
I added, while doing my best to control my impatience, “Specifically. Did someone shoot him? Strangle him? Hit him over the head with the proverbial blunt object?”
“That,” Constable Daniels said.
“In the infirmary, or…?”
“In the surgery,” Constable Daniels said.
Then someone might truly have been in there while Doctor had conversed with Christopher and me in the front room. “Did you find the murder weapon?”
Constable Daniels allowed as how they hadn’t. The murderer must have taken it with him when he left.
“What about the note? Was it left behind at the scene?”
But no, likely not. Not with the wording the way it was. There was no need to mention Doctor Meadows’s death to anyone who was already looking at his corpse.
“It came through the mail slot,” Daniels said. His eyes flicked to the front door and the slit in it. “I picked it up and read it. I went to the infirmary. I found Doctor Meadows dead. I set a couple of constables to work on the crime scene. Then I motored up to Sutherland Hall to fetch you.”
“Well, I didn’t do it,” I said. “If I had killed him, I wouldn’t give the police a note implicating myself. Nor would Christopher. That would be stupid.”
Daniels didn’t respond to that, and I went on. “Where did it come from? Did someone write it in the infirmary? Did you check the doctor’s stationery or desk blotter?”
“We’re doing that,” Constable Daniels confirmed.
“Good.” I nodded decisively. “Because if it didn’t come from there, if the killer brought it with him, that makes it premeditated, you realize. That—” I indicated the note, “isn’t something someone writes and carries around with them unless they plan to use it.”
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
I flicked another glance at it. “Who would recognize that? It’s all capital letters. It could have been written by anyone.”
It could have been written by me, with the pen in my left hand. Not that I mentioned that.
“Can you think of anyone who might want to accuse you of murder?”
There were plenty of people who might not quibble about having me out of the way for a while, with Laetitia and her mother at the top of the list. But to accuse me of murder, they would have had to have known that Doctor Meadows was dead, and how would anyone who hadn’t left the Hall all morning know that?
Constable Daniels hummed. “You may go, Miss Darling. But only back to Sutherland Hall.”
I opened my mouth to protest—I was meant to go to Salisbury and London today, or at least tomorrow—and he added, “Surely you understand that, after an accusation like this, we can’t have you leave. I don’t want to arrest you—”
“You’d better not,” I said, “because you have no proof other than this note, and it’s pure speculation.”
“—but the Chief Constable would also have something to say about it if I let you motor away before the inquest. You’ll be required to give evidence, if nothing else.”
Yes, of course I would be.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay for the inquest. As long as Uncle Harold is willing to continue to put us up at Sutherland Hall.”
He looked a bit surprised at that—perhaps he didn’t realize that Crispin’s father heartily despises me; I ought to have put him on the list of people who would be happy to have me out of the way—but he nodded.
“You’re free to go, Miss Darling. If your cousin is waiting outside, let him know I’d like a word. ”
I told him I would do, and headed for the door.