Chapter 11 #2
Grimly, Stokes nodded. “Let’s get this last round of questioning done as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Questions three and four need to be directed to the staff, both indoor and outdoor.
I’ll take O’Donnell and speak with the indoor staff about whether anyone noticed Leith, Cordingley, or Percival outside the house or near the study immediately after the alarm was raised, and also whether they spotted any of those three upstairs on Tuesday evening before or after nine o’clock.
Meanwhile, I’ll have Morgan ask the gardeners if any of them saw Leith, Cordingley, or Percival outside the house before the murder or around the time Miss Hemmings screamed.
With luck, someone will have spotted our mystery gentleman and have some clue who he is. ”
Penelope looked at Barnaby. “That leaves you and me to put our questions to the gentlemen of the company. First, did those in the library on Monday morning when Monty came in see him approach the vase?”
Barnaby rose. “And our second question for the gentlemen is who was where on Tuesday evening at nine o’clock.”
Penelope and Stokes got to their feet.
With determination etched in every line of his face, Stokes stated, “If we can get clear and unequivocal answers to those questions, we’ll know the identity of Underhill’s killer.”
Despite being driven by the same determination infecting Stokes, Barnaby and Penelope made first for the morning room.
They walked in, and Barnaby swiftly scanned the occupants.
Ensconced in armchairs in the middle of the room were Pamela, Susan, Percival’s aunts, Lady Wincombe, Mrs. Hemmings, and Lady Carville.
Of the older ladies and matrons, only Mrs. Waterhouse was absent, although an empty chair suggested she was expected.
To say that Barnaby and Penelope’s arrival was greeted with interest would have been a gross understatement. Conversations cut off mid-sentence, and every eye instantly fixed on them, while the expressions trained on them ranged from the faintly concerned to the avidly expectant.
Penelope smiled winningly. “We have a few last questions we would like to pose in the hope that, as a group, you might be able to shed some light.”
Lady Campbell-Carstairs gestured expansively. “Ask away, my dear. We’re agog to see you in action.”
Penelope’s smile only brightened. “Our primary question concerns what the company did on Tuesday evening.”
The ladies looked puzzled; plainly, news of the attack on Grimshaw hadn’t percolated to their ears. Mystified as to why they were being questioned about Tuesday evening, they glanced at one another, then Lady Kelly clarified, “Tuesday evening—the second evening after the sad event?”
“Exactly,” Penelope confirmed.
“Oh, well…” Lady Kelly glanced around the circle. On receiving encouraging nods from all, she returned her gaze to Penelope. “We retired early, all of us.”
Sensing more was needed, Susan added, “More or less immediately after we’d dealt with the tea trolley.”
Penelope ventured, “So around eight o’clock?”
“About that,” Pamela said. “As far as we know, all the men remained downstairs, presumably in the library or the billiards room. I’m not aware of who went where.”
“We weren’t feeling very convivial,” Mrs. Hemmings said, “as I’m sure you can understand.”
“Indeed.” Penelope inclined her head to the company. “Thank you.” Then, she shifted her gaze to Pamela and Susan. “One last question. Can you tell us who among those presently here have also been a guest at Wyndham Castle?”
That hadn’t been on their list of questions, but Barnaby could see why his clever wife had posed it.
Pamela shared a look with Susan, then said, “The Wincombes, certainly, and Lady Campbell-Carstairs and Lady Kelly, of course. The Hemmingses, Leith, Kilpatrick…”
“Nevin-Smythe,” Susan put in, “and Lord and Lady Carville and Morland.”
“Oh, and Griffith,” Pamela stated, “and Mr. Elliot, and Vincent’s friends, Mr. Patterson and Mr. Fentiman.” She looked at Penelope. “And, of course, all the members of Susan’s and my families.”
By her expression, Penelope was mentally striking through names on the guest list. Eventually, she said, “So not Morehouse, Carrington, Cordingley, or Percival.”
“No.” Pamela was quite definite. “We haven’t had the pleasure of those gentlemen’s company at the castle as yet.”
Lady Campbell-Carstairs snorted. “Not for want of trying in Richard’s case. We’ve done our best to inveigle him into attending several house parties there, but he’s as slippery as an eel when he wants to be and never obliged.”
Penelope smiled and inclined her head to the company. “Thank you. That’s really all we needed from you.” She paused, then asked, “Mrs. Waterhouse?”
“You just missed her, dear,” Lady Kelly said. “She slipped upstairs to fetch a shawl. If you want to speak with her, I’m sure she’ll be back at any minute.”
No doubt noticing the gleam in several pairs of eyes, Penelope shook her head. “No, no. I was just curious.”
Barnaby half bowed, and he and Penelope quit the room before they could be detained and interrogated. As they reentered the hall, he felt the heightening of the impending urgency they and Stokes had earlier acknowledged. To Penelope, he murmured, “It seems we’re closing in.”
“It does,” she returned. “But attendance at Wyndham Castle, while indicative, can’t be considered conclusive.”
“No, but it does focus the mind.”
The clack of billiard balls drew them down the corridor to the room from which the sound was emanating. There, somewhat to their surprise, they found what, at first glance, appeared to be the entire company of gentlemen.
The older men were sitting in armchairs crammed around the room’s perimeter, while the younger crew stood about in groups, idly chatting and watching Cordingley and Patterson, who were engaged in a game.
Of course, when Barnaby and Penelope walked in, all conversation ceased, and all eyes swung their way.
Then, in deference to Penelope, the gentlemen seated started to rise, but she quickly waved at them to remain seated, and they gratefully subsided.
Cordingley, who had been leaning over the table, lining up a shot, straightened, cue in hand, and, like everyone else, looked expectantly their way.
A quick scan of the company showed that most were present with two notable exceptions.
Penelope turned her head and whispered, “Leith and Richard aren’t here.”
Sotto voce, Barnaby murmured back, “That might make this easier.”
He raised his voice. “We have a few last questions. First, for those who were in the library on Monday morning, prior to the murder.” He focused on the cluster of older men.
Helpfully, Penelope added, “That’s Lord Morland, Mr. Elliot, Mr. Morehouse, Mr. Carrington, and Lord Wincombe.”
All five gave them their undivided attention, plainly eager to assist.
Barnaby asked, “Thinking back to when Underhill came in and chatted with you all, can you describe where in the room he stood?”
Faintly mystified, the gentlemen involved glanced at one another, then Carrington offered, “Well, he came in and stopped by the three armchairs closer to the door. Elliot, Morehouse, and I were sitting there, reading, and Underhill chatted a bit, then”—Carrington tipped his head toward Morland and Wincombe—“moved on down the room to where Wincombe and Morland were sitting.”
The other four men were all nodding, and Elliot added, “He was just circling about like any good host, exchanging a few words with each of us, then moving on.”
“So,” Barnaby prompted, “he merely moved around the armchairs?”
Lord Wincombe frowned. “Well, he did cross to that vase. Ruddy great thing on a shelf farther down the room.” He glanced at Morland. “Remember?”
Morland and the other three all nodded.
Morehouse volunteered, “He said it was one of Pamela’s prize possessions, and it wasn’t sitting quite right, and she was very particular about that, so he went and straightened it.”
Barnaby didn’t dare look at Penelope, knowing he’d see triumph in her eyes if not her face.
“Thank you.” Wanting to move the men’s minds away from the vase, smoothly, he continued, “Now, if you would, cast your mind back to Tuesday evening. After dinner and tea in the drawing room, we understand that you, as a group, congregated…where?”
“We were all in here.” Morland looked around the room. “More or less as we are now.” He glanced at Barnaby. “With you two and the inspector chappie commandeering the library, we weren’t sure if we should go in there, and with the study out of bounds as well, we all came here.”
The other men nodded.
Penelope managed not to sigh. “This might be a bit tedious, but please, bear with us. We need you to tell us who you remember being here.”
“We need to know,” Barnaby clarified, “who came in when you made your way here and remained here until at least nine-thirty.”
Penelope nodded at Cordingley, who happened to be standing at the end of the billiard table and was closest to Barnaby and Penelope. “If you would, Mr. Cordingley, did you come in with all the others, and who do you remember came in with you and remained until nine-thirty?”
Cordingley glanced around, then said, “I walked in with Carrington and Griffith, and Fentiman, Vincent, and Patterson were ahead of us. We were playing rounds and chatting for most of the time, and I’m fairly certain all of us remained until we went up at some time after ten.
” He glanced at Barnaby and Penelope. “Others were here as well, but I didn’t interact with them, so I’m not sure when they left. ”
Penelope smiled at him. “Thank you. That’s exactly the information we want to hear.” She shifted her gaze to the next gentleman. “Mr. Patterson?”
Barnaby listened intently as they worked their way around the twelve men in the room. Helpfully, there were no arguments over who was present or who wasn’t, with most confirming each other’s presence and many mentioning Richard as being there.