Chapter Fifteen #2
He grinned again. “Takes the bad lads’ minds off who’s inside it, at least for a moment. Long enough, sometimes. Now you sit here, Mrs. Fletcher, till you feel well enough to go back to the house.”
“I’m perfectly all right now. I’ll walk a bit farther with you. You know,” Daisy continued as they passed the dovecote, “if the fingerprints on the knife do turn out to be Derek’s, then the question arises again: How did Cedric Norville get hold of it?”
“Ah,” said Tom.
“Won’t the Chief have to prove how he got it?”
“It’d help the case, but all that’s absolutely necessary is to prove that he could have, that it wasn’t impossible. Young Derek left his knife on the hall table?”
“Not exactly. That is, it wasn’t exactly his. Alec didn’t explain?”
“He didn’t have time to go into details. Why don’t you tell me about it, Mrs. Fletcher?”
The sergeant was hugely entertained by the story of the children’s discovery of the knife. He regarded it as further evidence that Derek was cut out for a detective’s life.
“So you see,” Daisy finished, “it really belongs to the house, but Godfrey Norville didn’t think much of it. He told Derek to leave it on the hall table.”
“And no one knows when it disappeared. I asked the servants, of course, but it seems none of ’em even knew it was there in the first place.
They gave the table and the stuff on it a once-over with a feather duster before her ladyship arrived, but it’s not their place to tidy the family’s belongings.
’Specially as they didn’t reckon Lady Dalrymple’d have much cause to hang about in the hall. A pretty state of affairs!”
“It’s an odd household, though normally it seems to run quite smoothly.”
“The Chief said the staff don’t have hardly anything to do with the family?”
“They’re Lord Westmoor’s servants, employed to take care of his house and possessions.
The family have to pretty much fend for themselves.
I’d better tell you all about it.” Starting with the Indian marriage, Daisy worked her way via the sixth earl’s will—leaving old Mrs. Norville with a home and now-insufficient allowance—to a thumbnail sketch of each family member.
She and Tom Tring reached the chapel just as she finished describing Jemima.
“And then there’s Mr. Tremayne, Mrs. Godfrey’s father. ”
“The solicitor?”
“Yes. Don’t tell me Alec already told you all this!”
“No, no, he just warned me there’s a lawyer about. That’s a great help, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ve got a much better idea of what’s going on.”
“Not that it’ll be much use to you if Alec arrests Cedric Norville, as seems probable.”
“Ah,” said Tom, “there’s many a twist between handcuff and wrist.”
Daisy laughed. “Don’t count your villains until they’re catched,” she said. “I’ll leave you to your fingerprints. Shall I tell the children you’ll want theirs?”
“Better not. I shan’t take ’em without the Chief’s say-so, so best wait till he gets back.”
“Right-oh,” said Daisy.
As she turned away, she saw Captain Norville approaching along the path from Brockdene Quay.
“I’ve been down to the pub for a pint and some ’baccy,” he said, “and came back the long way to stretch my legs. I always take a morning constitutional around the deck at sea.” He looked enquiringly at Tom.
“This is Detective Sergeant Tring, Captain, my husband’s assistant. Captain Norville, Sergeant.”
The two big men gave each other assessing stares, wary as a pair of strange dogs. Then the captain offered his hand and Tom, after a barely perceptible hesitation, shook it.
“Happy to make your acquaintance, Sergeant. This is a nasty business, whichever way you look at it. I hope you and Mr. Fletcher are going to find enough evidence to hang the young wretch.”
“If there’s evidence, we’ll find it, sir, never you fear,” said Tom, a trifle ambiguously. “I’m after fingerprints right now.”
“He’ll surely have been wearing gloves on a December night. The lack of prints won’t spoil the case, will it?”
“Not at all, sir, but finding them would help no end.”
“Yes, of course. Well, carry on. Are you returning to the house, Mrs. Fletcher? If you don’t mind, I’ll walk along with you.”
“Do,” Daisy invited, and they set off.
Glancing back she saw Tom gazing after them with a frown on his boundless forehead.
Doubtless he was concerned about her going off with a man who must remain a suspect until Cedric Norville was arrested.
Daisy was not at all fearful. Victor Norville was no homicidal maniac.
Though he might conceivably have killed Calloway in a fury if the clergyman had refused to give his testimony, he hadn’t any reason to be angry with Daisy.
She waved to Tom and he raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“I’m glad I met you, Mrs. Fletcher,” said the captain. “Have you any notions as to how I can help my niece?”
“Felicity? Yes, actually, but I must make sure she likes the idea before I broach it to anyone else. And I’m not at all sure her father would approve.”
“God’s an obstinate fool!”
“I’m not at all sure you’d approve, either, or her mother or grandfather, or grandmother, come to that. Or Miles, even.”
“Well, well, we’ll have to see about that,” said the captain, taken aback. “But if it’s just Godfrey who stands in the way, I won’t let him spoil Felicity’s chances. I’ve been trying for years to make him accept enough to make the family comfortable.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“Not a bit of it. When I mentioned a nice little nest-egg—well, it’s not so little after all these years.
I’ve done pretty well for myself, and I’ve no rent to pay nor wife and kiddies of my own to keep.
There was a girl once, but a seafaring man’s seldom home and whether it was that or the doubt about my birth …
But never mind that. What it comes down to is God’s family is my family, and old Tremayne and I between us are quite able to keep them, not to mention young Miles’s help in a year or two.
But it was a fight to persuade God to let Tremayne pay for Miles’s schooling, so he’s bound to kick against the pricks whatever’s proposed for Felicity. ”
“I see,” said Daisy. She understood Godfrey’s position, having been in much the same situation herself.
After all, she had refused to let herself be beholden to Cousin Edgar, though he was perfectly willing and able to support her in a comfortable life of leisure.
She wondered if Godfrey’s pride was the cause of the brothers’ quarrel in the Hall, overheard by Jemima.
“So don’t hesitate to propose whatever you think is best for Felicity, Mrs. Fletcher,” said the captain earnestly. “Leave God to me.”
They were nearly at the tunnel under the lane when Alec, followed by Piper, emerged. “Daisy, is Tring at the chapel?”
“Yes, darling, we left him fingerprinting away like mad.”
“I hope he’s finding something,” Alec said grimly. “Cedric Norville has an excellent alibi for Christmas Eve. We’re going to have to start over from the beginning.”
“What?” cried the captain, going very red in the face. “Felicity’s young man didn’t kill the Reverend? That means, I take it, we’re all under suspicion again!”