Chapter Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
The manager came. The manager went away again, slightly irritable, promising to send a waiter. Next time the bell rang, Daisy thought, the manager would not turn up in person, anxious to help the police.
Gant rubbed his hands together. “We can get down to business while we’re waiting.”
“Mrs. Fletcher and I are going to wash our hands.” Majestically, Sakari surged to her feet. “In India it is the custom among people of high caste to wash before eating and drinking. No doubt it is a habit you have not developed. You may order the full afternoon tea. Our luncheon was interrupted.”
Jumping up, Gant stammered, “Y-yes, madam. I’ll wash, of course, as soon as I’ve passed on your order to the waiter.”
Daisy closed the door firmly behind them. “Sakari, you are abominable! I’m almost beginning to feel sorry for the poor little man.”
“I badly need to spend a penny, Daisy. I hope there is no one in the cloakroom. I thought I might as well take the opportunity to put the inspector in his place.”
“You’d already done that, darling. Thoroughly.” She pushed open the door to the ladies’ room across the lobby. “Vacant. You’re in luck.”
Sakari disappeared behind the heavy wooden door with frosted glass panes.
Daisy regarded herself in the looking-glass over the basin and decided she had survived the harrowing day without too much overt damage.
She powdered her nose, refreshed her lipstick, and poked at her shingled curls, somewhat flattened by heat and hat.
A clank, a whoosh of water, and Sakari reemerged.
“Ah, I feel much better now. I am ready for another bout with Mr. Gant.”
“It’s my turn, both for the lav and for Gant. Wait for me.”
“But of course.”
A couple of minutes later, washing her hands and drying them on the roller towel, Daisy said, “I mean it, Sakari. My turn. Let me tackle the inspector, or he’s just going to get more and more irritable.”
“He is not a pleasant person.”
“No, and he’s pretty incompetent, too. If he had the least notion how to question a witness, he’d have found out long ago that it was Lizzie who discovered Harriman’s body. It’s not as if any of us has lied about it. He had his own preconceived notions and put words into our mouths.”
“I think it is good that he does not know about Lizzie. Shall you tell him?”
“Heavens, no, not unless he asks me a direct question. On present form, that’s unlikely.”
“If he does, I shall distract him.”
“No! Please don’t interrupt. If he asks I must tell him. Any more distractions and he’ll start to smell something fishy.”
“Do you prefer that I am not present, Daisy?”
“Not at all, darling. I need a high caste protector! But a silent one, if you can possibly manage it.”
“I shall do my best to keep my lip buttoned. Should it not be ‘lips’?”
“Singular is usual, though I can’t imagine why. Where do you find these expressions?” Daisy laughed. “His face when you started talking about the peculiarities of the English language!”
Sakari smiled. “I keep my ears open, that is all.”
“And I’ve never known you to wave India like a flag before.”
“It is a diversionary tactic, Daisy, as well as a lesson to the ignorant that ‘natives’ are not all savages. But no more diversions. I will be silent.”
“Just sit there looking like the wife of a very important high official.…”
“… Enjoying her afternoon tea,” added Sakari, as a waiter with a laden tray crossed the lobby ahead of them.
Daisy sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to snatch bites and sips between questions.”
A gleam entered Sakari’s eyes. “Just one more little diversion,” she pleaded, “to allow you, too, to enjoy your tea.”
“Oh, Sakari, you are incorrigible. All right.”
They entered the writing room on the waiter’s heels. The inspector stood up, looking relieved, as if he had half-expected them to do a bunk.
“All right,” he said, rubbing his hands again, “now we can get down to business.”
“My dear Inspector, have you never heard of the Tea Ceremony?”
His face went red and his moustache bristled, but he had been too thoroughly cowed to completely regain his uppitiness during their absence. “No, madam,” he said sullenly.
“It is unheard of to discuss business during the Tea Ceremony,” she assured him.
“Will that be all, madam?” asked the waiter, having emptied his tray at one end of the big writing table. Besides the tea things, there were plates of bread and butter, watercress sandwiches, a variety of biscuits, and cherry and Dundee cakes. The Rose and Crown did an excellent afternoon tea.
“I trust they have remembered to give us the Darjeeling.”
“But of course, madam.”
“Do you like Indian tea, Inspector, or shall I send for China?”
“No, no, Indian will do nicely, thank you, ma’am.”
“Then that is all, thank you,” Sakari said to the waiter. “Daisy, will you pour?”
Pouring, Daisy recalled hearing mention of a Tea Ceremony.
But it was Chinese, or Japanese, she thought, not Indian.
Of course, an English afternoon tea was something of a ceremony in itself, and polite conversation was the order of the day, definitely not business.
“Milk and sugar, Inspector? Splendid weather we’re having, aren’t we, for the time of year. ”
“Forecast says rain tonight,” he told her grumpily.
“Constable,” Sakari invited, “you will join us, won’t you? Luckily they have brought four cups, so I shall not have to send for another. They cannot have realised in the kitchen that Mrs. Germond has left us.”
The detective constable, whose silent presence Daisy had completely forgotten, looked hopefully at his superior, who glared at him, then sighed and nodded.
Neither of the men contributed to the polite conversation.
Sakari and Daisy, trying to avoid all mention of the school and Bridge End Garden, quickly exhausted the weather, past, present, and future, and even in India.
They went on to the latest vagaries of Paris fashion, in which Sakari was much more interested than Daisy although she never wore anything but a sari.
Daisy soon found she couldn’t think of anything but the school and the happenings in the Garden, and the obvious connections between them.
However, her efforts not to think of them prevented any constructive speculation. She was suddenly very tired.
Sakari kept up the chatter without much encouragement for a while, but the strain began to tell. When the only sound for a noticeable period was the constable’s munching, she gave up. “Daisy, unless you would care for another cup of tea, I shall have the table cleared.”
“No, thanks, darling. That was just what I needed to perk me up no end.”
“Then, if you would be so kind as to ring the bell, Inspector?”
Gant jerked his head at the constable, who washed down a mouthful of cherry cake with a gulp of tea and obeyed, before retreating to his corner.
The two detectives had accounted for more than their share of the meal.
As the waiter loaded his tray, Daisy hoped the refreshments had not refreshed Gant’s brain cells.
There were any number of awkward questions he might ask.
If he phrased them unambiguously and put them to her directly, she would have to answer.
She had no more desire to reveal Harriman’s sadistic tormenting of Tesler, Pencote, and Miss Bascombe than to bring Lizzie into the foreground of the picture.
All too soon, the crumbs had been whisked from the table and the tray carried off.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the inspector said grudgingly. “Very kind of you.”
“Thanks,” echoed a mumble from the corner.
Sakari gave them a gracious nod.
Turning to Daisy with a sneer, Gant said, “Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I expect you’re an expert in murder investigations.”
Daisy widened her blue eyes, which Alec had so often described as “misleadingly guileless.” “Why, no, Inspector. Even if my husband wanted my assistance, it would be most improper for me to interfere.” As Alec was not slow to remind her, even when he actually did admit to needing her help.
“I’m glad you realise that. It’s a serious offence to interfere with the police in the discharge of their duties. Yesterday afternoon, you stayed with the other ladies to watch the races?”
“I did. Harriman was busy with his megaphone from the first race to the last. I wasn’t watching him all the time, but I didn’t see him speak to anyone other than the runners.
” Though, come to think of it, Miss Bascombe had been with him during the girls’ races, so he had probably ordered her about a bit.
However Daisy hadn’t heard him so it was pure speculation and not to be reported.
“Did you see him alive after you left the school?”
“No. What time did he die?”
“Asking questions is my job. Yours is answering them. This morning, you—the three of you—motored with your daughters to the public garden. You took the girls to the maze while the other two stayed behind. Why was that?”
“As a matter of fact, only Mrs. Prasad motored. The rest of us walked. We spent quite a time in the Dutch Garden—”
“Dutch Garden? What’s that?”
“You must have passed it to get to the maze. You have been to the maze, haven’t you? To see the body where it was found?”
“Naturally,” he said stiffly. “I am a trained detective. It’s the first section of the garden after the entrance, I take it.”
Daisy was tempted to applaud his deduction, but decided it wouldn’t go down well.
“That’s it. We walked about for some time, and as you know, one has to walk some distance from the street to reach the Garden.
By the time the girls wanted to go on to the maze, Mrs. Prasad had had enough of walking.
Mrs. Germond offered to stay with her, so I took the children. ”
“While you were in the Dutch Garden, did you see anyone about?”
“Only the gardener. I never did get his name. Obviously they have to have someone there on Sundays if they’re going to open the place to the public.”