Chapter Twenty
TWENTY
When the ghastly Gant left the Rose and Crown, and Daisy and Sakari had discussed how ghastly he was, they found themselves at a loose end.
“I wonder if we also ought to go up to the school,” said Sakari.
“Just what I was thinking. It’s all very well to tell the girls not to talk about Harriman’s death. I’m sure they must be more upset about it than they seemed. Someone’s bound to notice and ask what’s the matter.”
“You told Ghastly Gant to see the headmaster. Perhaps we ought to inform the headmistress of what has occurred.”
“Good idea—so that she’ll understand if the girls, Lizzie especially, behave oddly. Miss Priestman frightens me rather, though.”
“Nonsense, Daisy.”
“She does. She reminds me of my own headmistress, who was a real Tartar.”
“You were a pupil then, no doubt an erring pupil.”
“Well, sometimes,” Daisy admitted.
Sakari laughed. “As I thought. It is not like you to quail when action is necessary.”
“My friends and I did used to get into mischief. I remember when Lucy and I climbed out of the bathroom window onto the roof of the kitchen.…”
“But why, Daisy?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You English are all mad,” Sakari said with conviction. “Now you are a parent, a worried parent. I assure you, Miss Priestman is very kind. She could not have been more reassuring when I first talked to her about sending Deva here.”
“All the same, I wish I’d thought to give Belinda a note to take to her.”
“Had you done so, the constable might have been suspicious. I am certain it is as well that you did not. Come, you have faced any number of murders—”
“Not all that many!”
“Any number,” Sakari repeated, “without turning tail. And climbed out of upstairs windows. You are quite brave enough to face Miss Priestman. I shall send for a taxi. Ring the bell, dear Daisy. I have been bouncing up and down all afternoon like a rubber ball.”
“No you haven’t. Somehow you induced Gant to do it for you.”
Daisy rang the bell. A short time later they were jouncing up the hill in a pre-War Vauxhall, hoping they would make it to the school before the rain started.
Ahead, at the top, a fleeting glimpse of sun made the red-brick water tower stand out against dark clouds.
The taxi’s hood was up, but it looked as if it probably leaked in a dozen places.
Gant’s police car was parked in the school drive, near the central tower beneath which the headmaster’s office was located.
“Stop here,” Daisy told the driver. To Sakari she said, “We don’t want to run into the inspector. Let’s go straight in at the girls’ end.”
Miss Priestman’s quarters were at the west end of the long building.
The girls’ entrance, not intended for visitors, led them into uncharted byways, clean but rather utilitarian, with concrete floors.
Daisy’s school, for young ladies of the aristocracy, had been far more inviting—unless her memory painted it in rosy colours, as seemed quite likely.
Neither of them had previously penetrated thus far without a guide. Looking round the big room, with its rows of battered wooden tuck-boxes and the corner dedicated to weekly shoe-cleaning, and not a soul in sight, Sakari said plaintively, “Where is everyone?”
“Bel said they all go out for walks on Sunday afternoons.”
“Again this unnatural passion for walking! If they do not come in soon, they will all be soaked to the skin. Do you know how to get from here to Miss Priestman’s apartments?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“I could show you the way, if you like,” said a hesitant voice. From a hitherto unnoticed corner a girl appeared, her finger marking her place in a book. “But you’ll have to promise not to tell on me.”
“Tell what?” Sakari asked.
“I’m supposed to be out getting fresh air and exercise, but I’d rather read.”
“I have every sympathy.”
“So have I,” Daisy agreed. For all her derring-do where window-climbing was concerned, she had always resented being chased outside when all she wanted was to read in peace. “We won’t say a word.”
Their guide escorted them as far as Miss Priestman’s door. “Wait just a minute before you knock, if you don’t mind,” she said, “so that I can get out of sight.” She disappeared as quickly and thoroughly as she had appeared.
“You see,” said Daisy, raising her hand to knock, “headmistresses are inherently scary.”
“When you are disobeying rules. So are policemen when you are disobeying laws. I do not speak from experience, naturally.”
Daisy laughed. “Naturally. All the same, I hope she won’t be too annoyed at our interrupting her day of rest.”
Miss Priestman opened the door. “The teacher on duty can—Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, isn’t it? And Mrs. Prasad.” She frowned, but even to Daisy it looked like a frown of concern, not disapproval. “Is something the matter? Do come in. It’s a little untidy, I’m afraid.”
“We’re sorry to disturb you on a Sunday afternoon,” said Daisy, “but we do feel you ought to be warned. Quite apart from the girls, that is.”
“Warned?” Miss Priestman said in alarm. “Your daughters? You’d better sit down and tell me all about it.”
The small sitting room, was furnished with a flap-top desk, many bookcases, and several slightly shabby but comfortable armchairs. They all sat, and Daisy looked at Sakari.
“It is your story, Daisy,” she said unhelpfully.
So Daisy plunged in. She explained about taking the girls, including Elizabeth Germond, to Bridge End Garden after Meeting. She told how they had gone into the maze on their own, and how she had heard Lizzie start to scream.
“Good gracious! Not one of those men who … like Noah?”
“Noah?” asked Daisy, confused.
“When he was drunk,” Miss Priestman explained. “Though the Bible says he was within his tent and only his sons saw him, so it seems to me no great sin. But there are men who … er…”
“I know what you mean,” Daisy said hurriedly. “No, nothing like that. Much worse.”
“Worse? Good gracious!”
“A body. A corpse. Of someone she knew. One of the teachers, in fact.”
“Howard Harriman.”
“Good gracious, how did you guess?”
“He didn’t take breakfast. He was a rigid stickler for discipline, and he would never have shirked it for anything far short of death. In the maze? What on earth was he doing in the maze? Oh, but of course you wouldn’t know.”
Daisy had no intention of revealing Harriman’s spying on Tesler and Miss Bascombe, which was in any case at best a rumour. But she felt a sudden qualm: Tesler and Miss Bascombe, between them, would they have been capable of a deadly attack on their tormentor?
“Heart failure, I suppose,” Miss Priestman continued. “I’m surprised. He kept himself very fit. How dreadful that Elizabeth should have discovered the body! I quite understand your concern.”
“Unfortunately Melanie—Mrs. Germond—had to return to London, so we said we’d make sure poor Lizzie is all right. It was a shock to Deva and Belinda, too, though they didn’t see him. But what I haven’t made clear is that Mr. Harriman’s death doesn’t appear to have been natural.”
“Good gracious!”
“The police are investigating. They’re talking to Mr. Rowntree now.
Mrs. Prasad and I thought you ought to know what’s going on …
and we’re hoping the girls won’t be drawn into the investigation and further upset.
” Daisy hesitated. Whatever she said, it would be obvious she had misled, if not outright lied to the police.
How would the upright Quaker react to her deception?
She ploughed on: “You see, somehow the police seem to have got the impression that I found him.”
“Indeed!” said Miss Priestman, adding dryly, “I wonder how that happened. Your husband is a policeman, is he not, Mrs. Fletcher? A detective, I believe.”
“Alec has nothing whatsoever to do with this case. And I hope to keep it that way.”
“Well, that is your business. My concern is Elizabeth and your daughters. Where are they at present?”
“They seemed to be all right, so we sent them back to school, while we were interviewed by the detective in charge. The constable who was first to arrive on the scene told them not to talk about it.”
“Which they probably have not, so far, or I would have heard sooner. Nonetheless, they must be in a state of shock, however normal they may appear. It seems to me they would benefit from a few days in the San, where Sister could keep an eye on them.”
“The Sanatorium?” said Sakari. “An excellent idea.”
“Perfect,” Daisy agreed. The school nurse could keep an eye on them, and Gant couldn’t. Nor would they be tempted to tell their friends the whole story.
“They ought to be outside.” Miss Priestman glanced at the window. “But it’s nearly four o’clock and beginning to rain, so everyone will be coming in. You’ll want to talk to the girls, I expect?”
“Yes.” But not, Daisy thought, in this room under the headmistress’s eye. “Could we meet them at the San?”
“Certainly. Let me see, Miss Bascombe and Mr. Tesler took the children down to Meeting, so they’ll go off duty at four. Let me see who’s taking over.” She went to her desk and consulted a list. “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind waiting here for a short time, I’ll go and make the necessary arrangements.”
She left. Sakari said, “You see, Daisy, she is very kind.”
“And discreet. For an awful moment, I was afraid she’d ask me whether Alec would approve of my letting Gant misinterpret what happened.”
“I assume he would not.”
“Probably not. Definitely not. But considering how uncooperative Gant was, and the fact that I’m protecting Bel as well as Lizzie, I don’t think he’d be as furious as he would in other circumstances. Still, I hope he never finds out.”
“It is most fortunate that Melanie decided her presence was more necessary at home than here. She was not at all happy at leaving the inspector in ignorance, it seemed to me, yet she did not want him to be troubling Lizzie. She might have given us away inadvertently.”
“She was glad to escape, if you ask me. She hates to be caught up in such murky affairs.”