Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Alec hadn’t enough men to cover everything, so he’d made a quick decision that he’d have to trust the two maids, who had no space of their own in the house, to guard the west wing.
While Daisy led her detachment through the door to the east wing, he sent Piper to explain to the farm girls that if anyone tried to enter a room, one of them must come and tell him.
He went over to the fireplace. “Those of you whom I haven’t already met have no doubt gathered that I’m Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher. I’m in charge of this investigation, which—in case you’re still wondering—I will here and now officially confirm is a murder investigation.”
The blunt statement was effective in shutting up Simon Birtwhistle, who had been about to burst into intemperate speech, in spite of his friend’s restraining hand.
“Poor Uncle Humphrey!” the girl exclaimed.
“How can you possibly be sure?” asked the well-dressed man.
“Mr. Ilkton, is it? I’m afraid I can’t discuss that, sir. But it does make it imperative that everyone should give us every assistance with our enquiries.”
“Of course, of course.”
“So let’s get on with it. I’ll have a few words with you next.”
“Me? You’re aware that I’m just a guest here, not one of the family?”
Alec had already turned away.
Behind him, Piper said firmly, “This way, if you please, sir.”
Opening the door to the east wing, Alec looked to his right, where the new stairway led directly up from Humphrey’s sickroom to Ruby’s bedroom above.
Constable Bagshaw’s boots were just disappearing up the flight.
Though the search could not be kept secret, Alec didn’t want attention drawn to it.
He appreciated Daisy’s not having led the way up the stairs in the hall, in full view.
Ilkton and Piper followed Alec across the passage to Humphrey’s office. Alec sat down behind the desk. Taking a seat opposite, Ilkton offered a chased silver cigarette case.
“I suppose we can smoke in here,” he said. “They don’t have a smoking room, and with an invalid in the house, one doesn’t care to—”
“Better not. I have ladies to interview still.”
“Miss Olney won’t mind. She’s a thoroughly agreeable young lady, never makes a fuss.”
“But Miss Birtwhistle might.”
“Oh, yes, bound to. I’d forgotten about her. She’s very forgettable. Could be any old farm wife, or even a housekeeper.”
“You’ll excuse me if I say you’re a bit out of your usual milieu, Mr. Ilkton.”
“Rather. I was a bit stunned when I first found out what Miss Olney’s home and family in Derbyshire consisted of, but she’s worth my putting up with them until we’re married. We met at Stansted House.”
Alec raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“The Bessboroughs’ place,” Ilkton elucidated.
“Miss Olney flies high.”
“She went to a good school and met the right sort of people, and she has a gift for making friends. All the fellows are at least half in love with her, of course, but the girls like her, too. She’ll be a very acceptable wife for someone in my position, once she’s cut her ties with these poor relations. Distant relations, fortunately.”
Alec wasn’t sufficiently interested in him to ask exactly what his exalted “position” was. “I haven’t yet the pleasure of Miss Olney’s acquaintance. I’ll be asking her shortly the same questions I have to ask you now.”
Ilkton frowned. “She’s very young. She shouldn’t be interrogated on her own.”
“If she’s uncomfortable, she can choose someone to be with her. We’re not going to bully her. Now, may we get down to business? I’d like your view, as an outside observer, of how the members of this household got on with each other.”
“Oh, is that all? I can’t say I’ve really noticed.
One couldn’t miss a certain amount of friction between young Simon and his father.
Nothing out of the ordinary. I remember considering my own father a hopeless old fogy when I was about that age.
Though it could have been a symptom of a more serious disagreement, I suppose. ”
“You wouldn’t rate it as a quarrel?”
“Not what I observed. I can’t speak for what may have gone on before I came, or out of my hearing.”
“Naturally. Anything else?”
“Nothing that comes to mind. I must say, Mrs. Birtwhistle seems to have been an exemplary wife, constantly concerned for her husband’s comfort and well-being.
I say, how can you chaps really be sure he was …
murdered? There must be some mistake. He was an invalid, ill and elderly.
Isn’t it far more likely his heart simply gave out? ”
“We’re sure, believe me, Mr. Ilkton. If you have no further insights about the family…?” He paused. “Then we’ll move on to yesterday. You went with several others to Matlock.”
“I drove them. Even in my Packard we’d have been cramped if my man had chauffeured, though the Irishman rode his motorcycle—an invention of the devil, I’m inclined to think.
If you want to know what they all did in Matlock, I can’t help you.
I went straight to Smedley’s Hydro, where I paid a call on a relative who resides there.
He’s on the verge of senility, I’m afraid.
” His mouth twitched. He raised a hand to cover it.
Was he anxious lest Alec should suppose his family was prone to senility?
“But what can one expect of anyone who lives into the nineties? A grand old boy!”
“After your visit, you joined the others in the town?”
His mouth pursed in a near pout. “When I returned to the town centre, Myra had already gone off with the Irishman on some expedition. The rest were ready to leave.”
Alec decided it was pointless to ask whether any of them seemed unusually agitated. Ilkton, self-absorbed to the nth degree, would have been far too put out by Myra Olney’s defection to notice.
“All right, what about yesterday evening? You were helping to pass round drinks, I understand.”
“Myra—Miss Olney—was expected to help, so what else could I do? It’s really most unsuitable … The sooner I can get her away from here, the better.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let anyone leave for the present, sir. Getting back to last night, please tell me what you recall of everyone’s movements from the moment Humphrey Birtwhistle arrived in the hall.”
Ilkton remembered no more than Alec had already heard from others. His inability to give a straightforward, detailed account flustered him. Perhaps it damaged his view of himself as a superior being. Grimacing, he apologised.
“It’s a pity, but it can’t be helped,” said Alec. “People always have difficulty with the specifics when it’s a question of one among several similar occurrences. Sometimes an emotional shock makes associated memories indelible, but as often as not it blurs or even erases them.”
“Emotional shock?”
“The murder of your host…”
“I hardly knew the man. I don’t suppose we’d exchanged more than a dozen words. It was a great shock to Miss Olney, however. She was fond of the old man. So it’s iniquitous to make her stay in this house—”
“I’m sorry, I can only repeat that you are all going to have to stay here, within easy reach, until I no longer require your presence.”
Alec half expected him to threaten to ring up his lawyer, but he just said sulkily, “I suppose you know your own business best.”
Alec stood up. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Ilkton. I hope you’ll put your mind to trying to remember more about yesterday evening—though sometimes memories crop up when your mind is elsewhere.
Don’t hesitate to ask to see me if anything occurs to you.
I’d like you to rejoin the others in the hall now.
Piper, I’ll see Miss Olney next. Make sure you find out whether she wants someone to come with her. ”
Ilkton stood up, hesitated, then went out. Behind his back, Piper pulled a face before following him.
A true gentleman is never above his company.
If that was a quotation, Alec couldn’t pin it down.
Ilkton, with his proud good looks, reminded him of Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, in love with a woman he considered beneath his station.
In this case, instead of a sister’s elopement, an uncle’s murder had further muddied the waters.
Perhaps, like Darcy, he would learn from love to be less censorious.
Alec was eager to meet Myra Olney, though she didn’t sound in the least like Lizzie Bennet. Rather more, in fact, like Lydia …
She came in with a cheerful smile, ushered by a grinning Piper.
“Mr. Fletcher!” She held out her hand and they shook.
“Or should I call you Chief Inspector? I simply adore Mrs. Fletcher. She’s not a bit like Sybil.
Though I’m very fond of Sybil, too. She’s practically family, after all, and she has the sweetest little girl.
Mrs. Fletcher said you have a young daughter? ”
“Yes. She’s thirteen, a bit older than Mrs. Sutherby’s, I understand.”
“I’d love to meet her. And twins as well?”
“Miranda and Oliver. They’re still toddlers.”
“They sound absolutely adorable. I don’t suppose I could come and meet them when I’m in London?” Myra asked wistfully.
“Why don’t you talk to Daisy about it?” he suggested, conscious that Piper’s grin had changed to a smirk. “We’d better get down to business.”
“Poor Uncle Humphrey!” Her beautiful eyes—Alec couldn’t decide whether they were green or blue—filled with tears.
He felt for a handkerchief, but he’d run out.
Fortunately the tears didn’t spill. “Sometimes I can almost forget for a few minutes. He was always so kind to me, taking me in when Aunt Lorna didn’t want to at all.
I can’t believe anyone at Eyrie Farm would do anything so horrible! ”
Myra’s version of the outing to Matlock was mostly concerned with the girl they had met at the Hydro—quite pretty but rather dim—and the necklace she had helped Daisy choose for Belinda, at the market.