Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
“Right you are, Dr. Knox,” said Dr. Jordan cheerfully, returning to the hall, “I’ll get those samples analysed tonight. Worrall, you’ll send the body to me in the morning, for autopsy.”
“That I will, Doctor.”
“I’ll be off, then.” Jordan noticed Daisy and Sybil as they stood up. “Sorry, shouldn’t have mentioned such things in the presence of ladies. Good-night!” He strode out to his car.
“Roger!” said Sybil.
“Inspector!” said Daisy.
“Looks like we’ve been ambushed, Doctor. What can I do for you, Mrs. Fletcher?”
Worrall was remarkably perky for the time of night.
Daisy guessed that, being on night duty, he had slept during the day, unlike everyone else.
Now that she got a good look at him, he was about as average as a man can be: middling brown hair, slightly thinning; a face no one would pick out in a crowd; perhaps an inch taller than police height requirements; a figure a trifle thickened at the waist but unremarkable, as were his dark-grey suit and grey-and-cream striped tie.
She invited him to sit down, while Sybil and Roger drew a little apart.
“I can’t tell you anything about … the doctors’ findings,” the inspector said cautiously.
“Of course not. Though it’s obvious Dr. Jordan agrees with Roger—Dr. Knox—that something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”
“Denmark?”
“Sorry! I have a bad habit of indiscriminate quotation. They agree that the cause of Mr. Birtwhistle’s death is not obvious and straightforward. Lucky for you, really, since you seem to have brought my husband rushing to Derbyshire already.”
DI Worrall shook his head. “Not my doing, madam. You’ll be aware, I expect, it takes more than a mere inspector’s request to set things moving in that direction.”
“Yes, I know. I meant you as in the Derbyshire police force.”
“Ah. So I reported Dr. Knox’s call to my superintendent, as was my bounden duty.
I’ll tell you this much, he wasn’t happy about it, having just gone to bed.
Told me it was for the Chief Constable to make a decision.
As if he didn’t know the Colonel can’t be got hold of—up in Scotland shooting some bird or other, unless it’s deer he’s after.
Any road, his deputy, Mr. Oakenshawe, doesn’t want to take responsibility for whatever happens whilst he’s gone. Specially a murder enquiry.”
“You rang up Mr. Oakenshawe? What did he say?”
“He was right glad of an excuse to have the CID take charge.”
“The excuse being my presence, I assume.”
“That’s right, madam,” agreed Worrall, straightfaced.
“I suppose I’m glad to have obliged him! I hope you don’t mind having it taken out of your hands?”
“Well, now, we’ve yet to see if there’s anything to be taken.
All very vague and airy-fairy it is, so far, if you ask me.
But so be there is a case to investigate, I’d just as soon have the help, to tell the truth.
Most of the homicides we get in these parts, it doesn’t take two minutes to find out who’s to blame. ”
“Did Mr. Oakenshawe make you ring up the Yard?” Daisy asked.
Worrall grinned. “Tried to, but I wasn’t having any.
They won’t take any notice of a request from me, I told him like I told you.
Next thing I know, just as I was leaving to come here, having notified Dr. Jordan he was needed—next thing was a wire from Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher with the time of his train. Quick off the mark, those blokes.”
“Oh blast! Oakenshawe must have talked to the duty officer, and he rang Mr. Crane, and Crane rang Alec and told him to come and get me out of trouble. It’ll be all over the Yard,” Daisy said gloomily.
“Like that is it?” Worrall sounded sympathetic.
“I just wish Dr. Knox hadn’t taken it into his head to mention Alec to you. Then you could have solved your own murder—”
“If so be it is a murder,” the inspector reminded her, “which isn’t by any means a sure thing.”
“If it isn’t, and Alec’s annoyed about being called out for nothing, I’ll make sure he understands it’s not your fault.”
“I’d take it kindly, madam.”
“Roger and Oakenshawe can jolly well shoulder the blame,” Daisy said firmly. And Alec should jolly well give her some of the credit for Inspector Worrall’s complaisance!
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind, madam, just giving me the names of everyone in the house, so’s I have something to show the Chief Inspector come morning? Always supposing there should be anything here to interest him, other than your good self.”
“Certainly.”
He took out his notebook, then searched his pockets and produced a propelling pencil. “Starting with the family of the deceased, if you’d be so kind.”
“Lorna—Miss Birtwhistle—and Norman are his brother and sister. Norman is also unmarried. I gather the place belongs … belonged to the three of them, though whether in equal shares I can’t say.
Eyrie Farm, that is, and as there are two tenant farms I suppose one might refer to it as ‘the estate.’ Norman runs the farms. Miss Birtwhistle shares housekeeping duties with Humphrey’s wife. ”
“Ah, yes, the wife.”
“Ruby. She’s American. Or was. She’s been here since the Nineties. But that’s beside the point. You asked for their names.”
“You just tell me in your own way, madam. It’ll help me keep them straight, like, knowing a bit about them.”
“All right. There’s Simon, Humphrey and Ruby’s son, and only child.
Not long down from university—one of the red-bricks, not Oxbridge.
And Myra Olney is not long out of school.
She’s some sort of cousin but she grew up here.
” Daisy frowned. “Actually, I don’t know how long Eyrie Farm has been her home. ”
“How remiss of you.”
Daisy looked at Worrall in surprise. To her relief, he had a twinkle in his eye. It boded well for his working relationship with Alec, she hoped. “You’re teasing! I’ve only been here since yesterday afternoon. No, the day before, now.”
“In that case, I’d say you’ve picked up a remarkable amount of information. Any more family?”
“No, that’s the lot.”
“Servants?”
“Two farm girls who come in by the day. All I know about them is their given names, Betty and Etta.”
“Very confusing.”
“That’s what Myra said. I think Norman has some help on the home farm, but I don’t know anything at all about him or them. I don’t think they ever come into the house.”
“We’ll count them out for the present. Who does that leave?” He looked at Sybil and Roger, completely absorbed in each other. “Who’s Dr. Knox’s sweetheart?”
“They’re not sweethearts. Not really. That’s Sybil Sutherby. She’s … She was Humphrey Birtwhistle’s secretary. I was at school with her and she invited me to come and stay at Eyrie Farm.”
The inspector raised his eyebrows. “The secretary invites her own guests?”
“Well … It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Indeed!”
“No, she wasn’t Humphrey’s mistress!”
“Now, now, did I suggest such a thing?”
“Nor the doctor’s. I could tell you were thinking it. I can’t see any need to go into details of her position here unless you find out something suspicious about his death. She’s a widow, and she has a young daughter who’s away at school during the week.”
“Let’s hope everything’s cleared up before the child comes home,” Worrall said piously. “Anyone else?”
“There are two more guests in the house. Neil Carey—he’s a friend of Simon’s, a few years older.
And he flirts with Miss Olney, which won’t surprise you when you meet her.
The other is older still, in his thirties I’d guess.
Walter Ilkton. He made Miss Olney’s acquaintance on a tennis court and hopes to marry her. ”
“Ah.” He pondered for a moment. “That’s the lot, then?”
Daisy nodded, then remembered: “No, Mr. Ilkton brought a manservant. I don’t know his name.” She was taken by surprise by an enormous yawn. “I do beg your pardon!”
“Think nothing of it. I must say it’s not the effect a copper usually has on witnesses.” He closed his notebook. “I’m much obliged, Mrs. Fletcher, and I won’t keep you any longer. Doctor, are you leaving now?”
“What’s that? Oh, no, I’m staying the night. I was going to anyway, because of the fog earlier, so there’s a bed made up. I want to have another look in on Mrs. Birtwhistle.”
“Right you are, sir. I’d like a word with you before you retire.”
Accepting their dismissal, Daisy and Sybil said good-night and went together up the west stairs. On the landing, Sybil stopped and looked down at the two men.
“What were you talking about? Did he tell you anything?”
“Not a thing. What about Roger? Did he tell you what Dr. Jordan had to say?”
“Only that he agreed further investigation was warranted. It was a relief in a way, after he’d brought the police in. And Scotland Yard. Daisy, I’m really sorry about that. I hope Alec won’t be terribly angry with you.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s resigned to my getting mixed up in police business. Almost. Besides, I’ve been buttering up Inspector Worrall and I’m pretty sure he’s not going to get shirty about Alec taking over. Local police are often resentful and uncooperative.”
“You sound like a real expert! I suppose I didn’t actually believe half of what I heard about your exploits.”
“Darling, I sincerely hope you haven’t heard about at least half of my ‘exploits’! If I were a real expert, perhaps I’d have worked out what was going on here and put a stop to it before Humphrey died.”
Sybil patted her shoulder. “You had only one day, even if it felt like a century. It will probably turn out to have been a heart attack. Good-night. Sleep well.”
“’Night. You too.”
Daisy didn’t expect to sleep well with so much on her mind.
As she climbed into bed, she was trying to decide whether to admit to Alec that she had come to Eyrie Farm specifically to delve into her friend’s suspicions of serious wrong-doing in the household.
Sybil would probably tell him. Daisy could have asked her not to mention it.
However, Alec was almost certain to guess she was concealing something, not a good idea in a police enquiry.
So she had better confess right away, Daisy decided reluctantly. Unless, with any luck, it turned out that Humphrey’s death was natural and Alec had rushed all the way to Derbyshire for nothing. Holding on to that hope, she fell asleep.