Chapter Eight #3
‘I guess. But who’d murder someone over a couple baubles? I mean, even if Everett were on to the thief, are a few gems worth swinging for? A pragmatic man would just try to make a deal and give them back.’
‘True,’ I said. ‘But men have been murdered over a few pennies – pragmatism can evaporate in the heat of the moment. But the truth is, they’re not just a “couple of baubles”.
From what we understand, the combined value of the two pieces would buy a decent house in one of the swankier parts of London.
’ I remembered something else I’d been wanting to ask.
‘Is Granville Bridgewater having financial problems?’
‘What makes you ask that?’
‘He’s said one or two things that made me wonder, that’s all.’
‘You’re very perceptive – I could have made good use of someone like you when I was running my business.
Good judge of people. Yes, Granville has always lived beyond his means.
He works with wealthy folk and wishes to live as they do, but his income never quite matches his outgoings.
It’s not that he’s a foolish spendthrift or a wastrel, but his tastes have always been those of a man worth a great deal more than he actually is. ’
‘Would he stoop to theft?’
‘Outright theft? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t say so, no.’
‘How about insurance fraud? If Dotty’s ruby necklace went missing in the presence of some unimpeachable witnesses, he could make an apparently valid claim. Taking Patience’s brooch would add a touch of authenticity by making it look as though both wealthy ladies had been targeted.’
‘Again, I don’t see it,’ said JB. ‘Not bumbling old Bridgewater. He’s the affable fool with the after-dinner stories, not a scheming crook. He might live in a house he can’t afford, but that kind of thing isn’t his style. Nor is murder.’
‘Fair dos,’ I said. ‘What about the others? Could Wilson be a jewel thief?’
‘I guess anyone could be a jewel thief. I’ve not known him long but he seems like a trustworthy guy.’
‘He was with us all evening when the gems went missing,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Actually, yes, he was,’ I conceded. ‘How well do you know your staff, JB?’
‘Well enough. I’d vouch for them, certainly. Salt of the earth, as they say.’
‘Everett seemed to think they were up to something.’
‘He said something to that effect, yes. But he was a snob, among his many other failings. I didn’t read anything into it.’
I shrugged. ‘So where are we now?’
JB chuckled. ‘Pretty much nowhere, as far as I can tell. And I’m still no nearer to an answer to the question I brought you in here for: will we be OK?’
Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘We’ll make sure of it, dear. We’ll find out what’s going on and everything will be fine. Although . . .’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Although?’
‘Well, we have a pretty decent record for working these things out, but it can take time. If our killer has more murder in mind, we might not be able to stop them before they kill again.’
The guests had dispersed by the time we got back to the dining room, but there was still food on the sideboard and I made myself one last sausage sandwich.
I waved it at Lady Hardcastle. ‘You know what this could do with? Some tomato ketchup. It’s an American thing – you’d think JB would have some for his guests.’
‘Or some HP if he wanted to appear to have been properly anglicized and use one of our own mass-produced table sauces.’
‘Either way, it would be greatly enhanced. Nice sausages, though. I think you can judge a host or a hotel by the quality of their sausages.’
‘Just a moment while I indulge myself with a music hall snigger.’
‘Hoist by my own petard. What are we up to next?’
‘I thought we might try to track down Clarice and have a quiet word. I think we should offer our sympathies—’
‘Carefully – she has a low threshold for condescension.’
‘Indeed. And then just as carefully try to find out a little more about Everett and her relationship with him.’
It didn’t take us long to find her – we just followed the sound of the piano coming from the drawing room next door – and I was still finishing my mouthful of sandwich and brushing the crumbs from my dress as Lady Hardcastle announced our presence.
Clarice carried on playing to the end of the phrase and left the final chord ringing. ‘Come to join me? I’d love to duet if you have a minute or two to spare. Oh, how rude of me – I’m sorry. Do you play, Florence?’
‘She’s tried to teach me, but I never stuck at the practice, I’m afraid. I’ll make myself comfortable and listen, if you don’t mind.’
Clarice released the loud pedal and the ghost of the chord fled the room.
Lady Hardcastle sat on the right-hand side of the stool. ‘Budge up.’
They made themselves comfortable somehow, both of them on a seat built for one, and Clarice began vamping some melancholy chords.
Lady Hardcastle improvised a suitably wistful melody over the top.
They played like this for a few minutes, occasionally swapping roles, until the extemporized piece came to a natural end.
‘We should play that this evening,’ said Clarice.
‘It’s certainly lovely – you play very well, dear – but it’s a touch gloomy, don’t you think?’
‘Ah, but it would suit the circumstances perfectly – they expect me to be gloomy.’
‘Are you not?’
Clarice paused a moment. ‘I’ve only known you since Thursday, but I get the sense you’re not the sort to be bound by society’s petty rules.
I think I can be honest with you about this .
. . No, I’m not gloomy. There’s a touch of genuine sadness, I confess.
We were married for nearly fifteen years, after all – I’m bound to miss him.
But mostly there’s relief. It struck me this morning when I woke and realized I’d not have to pay attention to his mood, not have to watch what I said, be careful how I reacted.
I’ll mourn his loss as I would anyone who leaves my life, but I can’t bring myself to weep, wail, or gnash my teeth.
Overall, the world’s a brighter place without Edgar Everett in it. ’
‘To echo your own words of a few moments ago,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘I’d only known him since Thursday, but I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed I’ll not be seeing him again. He wasn’t sparkling company.’
Clarice nodded. ‘He was not. What do you think, Florence?’
‘Me?’ I said. ‘I would never have admitted it in public if you hadn’t said what you just said, but I couldn’t stand the man. After the incident in the sitting room yesterday I was ready to knock his lights out. If Patience hadn’t stopped me, I might have.’
Clarice laughed. ‘He had that effect on people. But you’re quite small—’
‘How can you tell?’
‘Your voice comes from lower down than everyone else’s. Either you’re always crouching or you’re little.’
‘I am, indeed, pleasingly petite.’
She laughed again. ‘So it’s a good thing you didn’t try to slosh him one. He wasn’t a violent man, but he was surprisingly strong.’
‘Our Flo is something of a dab hand at the fighting arts,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’d always bet on her in a scuffle.’
Clarice beamed. ‘I say, you’re not one of those suffrajitsus they talk about in the newspapers, are you?’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘No, but I have taught some of the Bristol suffragettes how to look after themselves if things cut up rough.’
‘How very marvellous.’
‘How did you and Edgar meet?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘At a concert, naturally. My elder sister used to be my guide and chaperone, and we were backstage at a recital in Cheltenham one evening in the summer of ’98 when a man barged into me.
My sister began to berate him, he began to berate me, and I just stood there with what I’m told was a stupid smile on my face. ’
‘Why were you smiling?’ I asked.
‘He smelled divine. I couldn’t have described it, but there was something about his . . . his presence, I suppose, that made me grin. He had a lovely voice, too.’
‘Actually, he did, didn’t he. I didn’t get close enough to smell him, though.’
‘You’d have been disappointed – he smelled very ordinary thereafter.
I think it was something he’d come into contact with backstage at the theatre.
Honestly, I could have ended up marrying a stagehand if I’d got close enough to one to sniff him.
Anyway, we sorted out the misunderstanding and introduced ourselves.
My regular accompanist had missed his train so the theatre had booked Edgar at the last minute.
We played wonderfully together and I managed to arrange to work with him again a week later in Birmingham.
Things just sort of went from there. Within a few months my sister was no longer needed and Edgar accompanied me to the theatres as well as when I played. We were married in October.’
‘A charming story,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s a pity he turned out to be . . . well, to be Edgar, I suppose. Still, it’s a shame your last interaction was a disagreeable one.’
‘Actually, yes. I really am glad we’ve finally parted, but I think I should have preferred we part on better terms.’
‘So you didn’t . . . see him again after your row.’
Another laugh. ‘Everyone has to get over that – we all use “see” figuratively like that. Is it figurative? But you know what I mean, don’t you.
But no, I didn’t see him again in either sense – I neither perceived him with my sightless eyes, nor was I in his company.
I’m not sure I’d have said goodbye, though, so it would probably have made no difference.
’ She sat silent for a while. ‘You said it was his heart?’
‘As far as we could tell,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But we’ve no medical training.’
‘I hope it was quick. He was a beast, but I still hope he didn’t suffer.’
Neither Lady Hardcastle nor I had an answer to that.