Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Tea was not the social and sociable occasion Daisy had experienced her first evening at Eyrie Farm.
Neither Ilkton nor Carey turned up, perhaps dissociating themselves from the family’s troubles, unless Carey was simply in the throes of creation.
Simon reluctantly took a tray to the police and didn’t reappear.
Myra brought tea to Daisy and Sybil in the hall, then went back to the kitchen.
PC Bagshaw tramped through and out to the west wing.
Roger Knox, bringing his own cup of tea, joined Sybil and Daisy.
“I followed your advice about letting Ruby get on with the supper preparations,” he said to Daisy.
“But I’m trying to persuade her to eat quietly in her sitting room and then go straight to bed.
I’ll give her a bromide.” He grimaced. “The stuff has a bad reputation here just now, but it’s exactly what she needs. ”
Bagshaw tramped back, escorting a disgruntled Norman carrying a cup and saucer—he must have been taking his tea in the estate office.
The dog was missing from the hearth rug, Daisy noted.
It usually followed Norman about when he was in the house, possibly the only living creature to want his company.
Roger jumped up. “Is Mr. Fletcher interviewing people again, Officer? If so, I must insist that he sees Mrs. Birtwhistle first, in my presence. Otherwise he’s going to have to wait till the morning.”
“You’d best just come along now and speak to the Chief Inspector yourself, sir,” Bagshaw said stolidly.
The three men disappeared into the east wing.
Sybil gulped the last of her tea. “I can’t stand this. I need a breath of fresh air. Coming, Daisy?”
“It’s raining.”
“I don’t think so. It had stopped when I last looked out of the window. Anyway, I don’t care. Just a quick turn round the garden before it gets too dark.”
“Shall we take Scurry?”
“Where is he? Oh, I bet he followed Norman and they shut the door on him.” She went to the west door and opened it. The dog, patiently waiting, padded through.
Daisy’s coat was upstairs but there were plenty of umbrellas and old mackintoshes in the cloakroom, and several pairs of Wellingtons. She picked out a mac that wouldn’t drag on the ground and a pair of boots that more or less fitted, and they went out.
The rain had ceased. The clouds were being torn into scraps by a chilly wind from the east, where the evening star shone bright in the darkening sky.
“Brrr.” Daisy hugged the coat about her. “Frost tonight, I should think, at least up here in the hills.”
“Yes, and after the rain the road will be icy. I must tell Roger to be extra careful when he drives home.”
Despite the chill, the brisk walk twice round the garden—Scurry made it round once—was the high point of the evening.
Daisy spent much of it in the hall, reading Halfbreed Hero, while people passed back and forth on their way to being questioned.
Ruby didn’t appear at dinner, and Roger had already left for his evening surgery.
Myra and Daisy did their best to keep up a bit of chit-chat but the others matched Norman’s taciturnity.
The gift of the gab seemed to have deserted even Neil Carey, who sat silent with a faraway look in his eye, though his lips moved occasionally as if he were trying out a phrase for his next opus.
Before she retired, Ruby, typically hospitable, had offered to feed the police.
They chose to dine at their desks. Daisy gathered that Alec and Piper were using Humphrey’s office; Worrall and Miss Stott, Sybil’s.
Ruby had also invited Alec to stay the night, and he had accepted.
The others left for Matlock shortly before nine. Everyone went to bed early.
Infuriatingly, Alec refused to tell Daisy anything. “We’re getting nowhere fast,” he said. “Unless we get a lucky break soon, I might as well get back to the Yard and leave the case to Worrall. My desk was clear when I left, but you can bet it’s already piled high again.”
“If you go, I’m coming with you, darling. I’ll even let you drive. After all, the part of the puzzle I came to help Sybil with has been solved. We could get an early start in the morning and—”
“No, I’ll have to stay at least long enough to discuss everything with Worrall and report to his superior in Derby, and to Aves, the local super, and to their deputy CC, not to mention Crane.”
“At least Mr. Crane-fly-in-the-ointment should be glad to know I’m leaving the scene of the crime.”
Alec produced the obligatory groan at her pun. “All very well, but he expects me to solve crimes I’m sent to solve, not to leave it to the locals.”
“You can worry about it tomorrow. Come to bed.”
What nobody had remembered to worry about was breakfast.
Next morning at a few minutes after half past eight, as the Fletchers went downstairs, it suddenly dawned on Daisy: “Oh dear, no Lorna, no breakfast?”
Alec sniffed the air. “I can’t smell bacon. Or even toast.”
“Ruby’s probably sleeping in, because of the bromide Roger gave her. Perhaps I’d better go and see if Myra’s having trouble in the kitchen. You go to the dining room and see whether Simon’s there. If so, send him to help.”
But Daisy found Simon in the kitchen. He was standing at the open larder door, staring in in a helpless sort of way.
At the sound of her footsteps, he turned, saying, “I’ve put the kettle on, but— Oh, good morning, Mrs. Fletcher. I thought it was Myra. Or Mother.”
“Good morning. I was rather expecting to find Myra here.”
“I suppose she’s still in bed, the lazy … Well, never mind that. I can manage coffee and toast. If people want bacon and sausages and eggs and such—”
Alec came in. “Simon’s not— Ah, he’s here already.”
Close behind him came Sybil. “Myra’s not down yet? I’ll help.”
“Thanks, Sybil, but it’s not your responsibility.” Simon looked harassed. “Would you mind going to see if she’s on her way? Tell her to hurry up, for heaven’s sake!”
“All right.”
In the doorway, Sybil met Ilkton. He stood aside to let her pass, then stepped in, his usual smooth facade ruffled by an irritable look.
“What’s going on? Fletcher, I presume you’re not going to keep us all here forever?
Miss Olney and I want to leave for London today, in time to arrive before nightfall. ”
“I can’t tell you till later whether that will be possible. In any case, the present hold-up can’t be set at my door. Miss Olney hasn’t yet put in an appearance, and breakfast is waiting on her assistance.”
“Myra didn’t say anything about going to London with you, Ilkton,” Simon objected.
“You can’t expect my future wife to stay here acting as your cook-maid forever. She doesn’t need your permission to leave.”
“I must say, I think it would be indecent to talk her into dashing off, with the family in mourning. And Myra’s part of this family, make no mistake about it, even if that school of hers put some high-falutin’ ideas in her noddle.
She jolly well owes the rest of us a bit of help when it’s needed, and to do her justice, she knows it! ”
“She—”
“Oh, stop it, both of you,” Daisy snapped, her stomach rumbling. “Simon, why don’t you start slicing bread for toast, and the rest can wait until Myra arrives. Ruby’s probably still asleep. I’ll make the coffee. We’ll eat in here. There’s no sense in carrying everything to the dining room.”
Sybil rushed in, out of breath. “She’s left!”
“Left?” Alec stiffened.
Ilkton gaped. “Left!”
“What do you mean, left?” Simon pulled out a chair from the table and Sybil sank onto it. “What’s she been and gone and done now?” he asked with a sigh.
“She’s stripped her bed and packed her bags and left them stacked by the door, labelled for her London address. There’s a note, but it just says, ‘Please forward. Will write.’”
“How can she have left?” said Ilkton, outraged. “She has no car.”
“Where’s Neil?” Daisy enquired. “Has anyone seen him this morning?”
Everyone stared at her, then looked at one another. Heads shook.
“Simon,” Alec ordered, “go and look in his room. Ilkton, you know where he kept his motorcycle? See if it’s gone. I’ll be at the telephone.”
The men hurried out.
Elbows on the table, Sybil dropped her head in her hands and closed her eyes for a moment.
“I can’t believe it!” She looked up at Daisy.
“At least, I can. It’s typical of Myra, really, acting on impulse, and Carey likewise.
But Alec believes she killed Humphrey, doesn’t he?
Because she went off without his permission? ”
“I’m afraid so. That is, he doesn’t exactly believe it—he’ll have to have more evidence than her unexpected departure—but you must admit it looks suspicious.”
“Only if you don’t know Myra. Goodness knows what sort of maggot she’s got into what passes for her mind, but I’m sure she has a reason that appears perfectly sound to her.” She stood up.
Daisy laid a delaying hand on her arm. “I know exactly what you mean. The trouble is, the same applies to her motive for murdering her uncle. Don’t bite my head off!
” she said hastily as Sybil glared at her.
“I’d be very surprised if she did. But you must admit that her apparent lack of a motive has no relevance, given the way she thinks. ”
“If she thinks. I’m not sure the word can be applied to what happens inside her head.”
“Quite. What I meant to point out is, if you were to try to persuade Alec that her flight may well have nothing whatsoever to do with her guilt or innocence, it would be a two-edged sword.”
“I do see that. Let’s go and see what’s happening, though.”
They went into the hall. Alec was beating an impatient tattoo on the telephone table while he waited for the operator. He looked round, frowning, then turned towards the west staircase as Simon came dashing down.
“He’s not there. And he’s taken all his traps. He left a note but all it says is, ‘Thanks. Will be in touch.’”
“Bloody fool,” Alec grunted. “Yes, operator, I want the Matlock police station. Police priority call. Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, Scotland Yard.”
“What are you going to do?” Simon demanded aggressively. “Myra didn’t kill Father, I’d take my oath on it. She hasn’t got the brains.”
Alec ignored him. “Yes, DI Worrall, or Superintendent Aves. Simon, what colour is the motor-bike, and do you know the make?”
“Green Triumph. But—”
“Go and call Ilkton back. Something tells me he won’t find it.”
Simon scowled, but went sulkily to open the front door, admitting an icy draught. As he stepped out, an engine roared. A moment later, Ilkton’s Packard flashed past.
“He’s escaping!” Daisy exclaimed.
“He’s going after her,” cried Sybil. She gave Daisy a questioning look. “‘Escaping’?”
“Now what made me say that?” She held up her hand. “Hold on a minute, let me think.”
“Worrall?” said Alec into the phone, and started giving instructions for an alert to be sent to all police forces along the route to London.
Simon came in, slamming the door behind him. “What a fool. Myra’s not going to marry him. Or Neil.”
The elusive thought clarified in Daisy’s memory. “Something Simon said. Simon, the first evening I was here, after dinner, you apologised for not having any liqueurs or good brandy. And you mentioned that you thought Walter Ilkton had brought his own.”
“And wasn’t sharing. Why—? Yes, you’re right, Mrs. Fletcher.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “I’m pretty sure he had a pocket flask.”
“Alec…” Daisy shrugged as Alec put his finger to his lips, shaking his head, listening intently to whatever Worrall was saying. She turned back to Simon. “Come on, let’s go and ask his valet. Do you know where to find him?”
“Somewhere in the old servants’ quarters, the original farmhouse bedrooms. This way.”
“He might be in the kitchen by now,” suggested Sybil, tagging along, “wondering where his breakfast is. But Daisy, the police searched the house for a bottle. They wouldn’t have ignored a flask.”
“Ilkton wasn’t really a serious suspect. If he hid it well—”
“In the car, I bet!” said Simon, bursting into the kitchen ahead of them. “Locked in that toolbox. Hey, you, MacGilli-whatsit!”
The servant, like Simon before him, was at the larder door, peering in hopefully. He swung round, saying stiffly, “MacGillivray, sir. I beg your pardon, sir, I was just—”
“Never mind that. Take what you want to eat. But tell me, did Mr. Ilkton have a pocket flask?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is it?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir.”
“When did you last see it?” Daisy asked.
“I’m sorry, madam, I don’t remember, but I do know it wasn’t in any of his pockets when I dealt with his clothes on Tuesday evening.”
“And you didn’t tell the police?”
“They didn’t ask me, madam.”
Simon looked ready to explode. Daisy said quickly, “You’re probably right, Simon. He slipped out and locked it in the toolbox. Even if they searched the cars, they might not have bothered about asking for the key to it.”
“The master did go out to the car that evening, madam. He told me he’d put the rug over the bonnet, so I needn’t.”
Sybil grasped Simon’s sleeve and tugged. “Let’s go and tell the Chief Inspector.”
“If Ilkton gets away, I’m going to make sure this slimy little man pays for it!”
“Don’t be silly. Come on, the sooner we tell him the better.”
“It may be irrelevant,” Daisy warned, as they hurried back to the hall.
Alec was still on the phone. “Yes, the black Packard,” he was saying. “He left just a couple of minutes ago. All right, get right on to it, and ring me back.” He hung up.
“Darling, we’ve discovered a clue. I remembered—”
“Ilkton had a pocket flask,” Simon interrupted. “His man has confirmed it.”
“MacGillivray?” Alec said sharply. “Let’s hear it.”
Simon explained, giving due credit to Daisy for the initiating idea, discredit to MacGillivray for not informing the police, and credit to himself for the theory of the toolbox.
“It must have been Bagshaw who searched the Packard,” said Daisy. “Tom would have found it.”
Alec grinned at her. “If it’s there. Hold on while I tell them to look for it.
” He was put through immediately this time.
The girl at the exchange must be on the lookout by now for police calls on this line.
Alec left a message for Worrall rather than asking to speak to him.
Hanging up, he turned to the waiting trio.
“I think you deserve to know what’s happened this morning. ”
“Just a minute,” said Sybil, “here’s Ruby.”
Simon rushed to support his mother, who stumbled into the hall swathed in a blue flannel dressing gown, her hair wild. She looked half asleep, and very shaky. In her hand was a sheet of paper.
“I heard a car. It woke me up.” She held the paper out to Alec. “Mr. Fletcher, I just found this, pushed under my door. I thought I ought to show you at once.”