Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
When Daisy lay down for her nap, she didn’t fall asleep, but she grew so somnolent that a very soft tapping on the door startled her.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Sally, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Come in. What time is it?”
“Just after six, madam. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I was just resting my feet. It’s been over an hour? Today seems to have lasted a very long time already. What is it?”
“There’s two messages come, madam, that I thought might be urgent.
” She came over to the bed and handed Daisy a pinky-buff telegram envelope and a double-folded note on lined paper.
“The telegram’s for Mr. Fletcher, sent over from the post office.
The boy said it’s from Scotland Yard. I told him to take it to the police station, but he said it’s addressed to the Saracen’s Head and that’s where he was told to take it. ”
Holding up the telegram to the light, Daisy wished she could see what Crane had to say.
It must be from him, though she knew she had no hope of reading it.
She could, however, deliver it to Alec herself.
If she sent Edward the Boots to deliver it to the police station, the same difficulty applied as with the letter from France: If Alec was not there, both might get into the wrong hands.
“I’ll see he gets it, Sally.” She laid down the telegram and picked up the note.
“Constable Pennicuik brought that one, madam. The telegram came just after he went off, so I couldn’t give it to him.”
“This is from Alec.” She recognised his handwriting. “Let me see what he says.” She untucked and unfolded the paper. “Oh, bother, he won’t be back for dinner. I don’t suppose DC Pennicuik mentioned whether they’re all at the station or buzzing about questioning people?”
“No, but Mr. Piper wrote a note to me,” Sally said, blushing. “He asked if I—we would be so kind as to send over sandwiches for four at half past seven.”
“So they should all be there at seven thirty. Good. I’d better get moving and go over to Cherry Trees right away.”
“Mr. Whitford told me the ladies are going home tonight. Miss Leighton rang up Miss Chandler at work to tell her. Miss Leighton gave me ever such a good tip.”
“You deserve it, Sally.”
“Thank you, madam. I do my best.”
“And a very good best it is.”
Sally went off, beaming. Daisy hoped all would go well with her, whether the future held a job in London or marriage to Ernie. Or to someone else, she allowed.
She got out of bed and washed her face and hands in the basin.
Shedding the creased blouse she had worn to bed, she decided to put on a dress instead of the costume she had been wearing.
As she brushed her curls into place, she wondered whether to go straight to Cherry Trees or drop in at the police station to see whether Alec, Underwood, or one of their minions was there.
It was just a hundred yards or so. But in the wrong direction, possibly fruitless, and she hadn’t found out yet about the possible payment to Mrs. Hedger.
She might as well wait until she had collected all her snippets of information.
That way, she’d have to suffer through only one ragging for her interference.
The walk back from Cherry Trees was uphill, though not steep. Daisy considered taking Alec’s car. If she did, however, he was bound to need it. She left a note telling him where she had gone and asking him to pick her up in the car if possible.
At least it had stopped raining.
The royal blue Austin Twelve was not where Alec had parked it. How lucky she had decided against driving, or she would now be feeling aggrieved at its absence!
About to turn into Orchard Road, she saw a large man walking towards her up Station Road. His hat brim hid his face from the light of the street lamp, but his walk was unmistakable. Daisy glanced round to make sure no one was about, then hailed him.
“Hello, Tom!”
He tipped his hat. “Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher. The ladies have been allowed to return home, I take it.”
“Once a detective, always a detective. Are you in a hurry, or will you walk along with me?”
“My pleasure. The Chief explained why I’m here, I assume.”
“Because you’re bored stiff with being retired.” Daisy tucked her hand under his arm.
He chuckled. “Haven’t found my civilian feet yet, and that’s the truth.”
“Also because you’re the best at certain aspects of the job that no one else available is good at. You’re very unofficial and I’m not to recognise you in public.”
“You did nicely when we ran into each other in the doorway last night. Not a blink.”
“Just a wink,” Daisy retorted, “which was your doing. Have you found out anything useful.”
“Ah.” Tom pondered. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you a bit of it. I’ve traced the gardener and, more important, the housekeeper who used to work for Mrs. Gray.”
“Already? Did you talk to them? What did they say?”
“I had a chat over a pint with the gardener, but I’m too unofficial to go asking nosy questions.
Not unofficial enough to tell you what he said, anyway!
The housekeeper’s moved away. The Chief’ll have to go after her.
The missus heard some gossip that likely came from her in the first place, I can tell you that much. ”
“But not what the gossip is?”
“Right.” His tone told her he was grinning, and she visualised the way his sweeping moustache twitched when he grinned.
“It sounds as if you’ve both been busy, and successful. I suppose you won’t tell me how you communicate with the Chief, either.”
“Not if he hasn’t, though I can’t see why he wouldn’t. Well, here we are.” He stopped at the gate of Cherry Trees. “All right to walk home, are you?”
“Yes, thanks. ’Night, Tom. Give my regards to Mrs. Tring.”
Daisy went up the path and rang the bell. Vera came to the door.
“Come in, Daisy. Sorry about the smell, but carbolic is better than…” Her voice faltered.
“Infinitely better.”
“Isabel’s left the cellar door open to air it out. We’re keeping the rooms closed off as much as possible, but it seeps in everywhere. Do you mind coming into the kitchen? Izzie’s cooking.”
“Of course not.”
“She said there’s plenty, so you’re welcome to stay for supper, but doubtless Alec is expecting you.”
“Actually, no. He’s too busy this evening. It’s part of being a copper’s wife, never knowing quite when he’ll turn up. Often he can’t even let me know in advance.”
Vera opened the kitchen door; they hurried through and she closed it behind them. The kitchen smelled slightly fishy, but much less obnoxious than the hall or passage.
“Hello, Daisy.” Isabel was at the sink, scraping and slicing carrots. “I decided I’d better bung out the beef, though it seemed to be perfectly all right. I just couldn’t face it. We’re having fish pie. I hope you’ll stay.”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Willie said this morning she’ll probably work late today, so we’re not waiting for her.”
“Alec’s working late, too.” Daisy sighed. “No such thing as regular hours for coppers.”
While the carrots cooked and a delicious smell emanated from the oven, they sat at the kitchen table with a glass of white wine. Isabel had splurged to celebrate their return home.
“I know it’s been only two days, but it seems like forever.”
“It’s a pity Willie isn’t here,” said Vera.
“We’ll save a glassful for her. Daisy, did Alec tell you what the letter from France said?”
“Sorry, I haven’t actually seen him yet, and I didn’t want to leave it at the police station for him in case it got lost. I’ve got several other things to tell him—”
“About Mrs. Gray’s trunks?”
“That’s one. Also, I wanted to ask you whether you paid Mrs. Hedger for the time she worked between when Mrs. Gray disappeared and you moved in. If you know how long that was, it would help the police pin down the date she died.”
“No, I didn’t pay her. It may seem mean, but I hadn’t asked her to work and there were so many unexpected expenses just then. We all agreed we weren’t morally obliged, even Vera.”
“So it won’t be in your account book. That’s a pity. Did she ask to be paid?”
“Oh yes. And that’s another thing: I had no way to tell if she was honest about how long she’d worked unpaid. For all I knew—or know, for that matter—she could have added a few extra days, though now I think she’s pretty honest, whatever her other flaws!”
“What date did she claim she was last paid?”
Isabel frowned in concentration, then shrugged. “I can’t remember.”
“I bet Willie remembers,” said Vera. “She always remembers even the most insignificant numbers.”
“True.” Even the numbers on a half-seen licence plate. “Will you ask her?”
“I hope she’ll be home before you leave.” Isabel got up to test the carrots. “Just a couple of minutes more.” She opened the oven door and took out a haddock pie topped with crispy mashed potatoes. “We were going to eat in here tonight, Daisy. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Having been properly brought up, she would have said exactly the same even if she abhorred the thought of dining in the kitchen.
Apple charlotte followed the delicious fish pie. Willie still wasn’t home by the time Isabel served coffee. They were taking their first sips when the doorbell rang.
“Not Willie,” said Vera, getting up, “unless she’s lost her key.” She went out, to return a moment later with Alec.
“Good timing, darling. I wasn’t looking forward to walking back.”
“All good policemen have a well-developed sense of timing. Good evening, Isabel.”
“Good evening. Have you eaten?” asked Isabel, ever practical.
“Yes, thanks. The Saracen sent us in some sandwiches.”
“Coffee?”
“Please. Vera—or Miss Leighton, if you prefer it in the circumstances—I’m going to have to ask you to describe to me your unpleasant experience with Cartwright.”
“No!” Vera shot an accusing glance at Daisy. “I trusted—”