Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Daisy was already awake when Sally tapped on the door and came in with the early morning tea tray. Alec was sound asleep at her side. She hadn’t roused when he came in last night.
She was inclined to let him sleep, but Sally said, “Mr. Piper left a message at the desk, Mrs. Fletcher, to wake him and Mr. Fletcher at half past seven.”
“I’ll take care of Alec, Sally. You can deal with Ernie.”
“I already did.” She grinned. “He groaned a bit, but he thanked me ever so politely.” She went out.
Daisy sat up, leaned over, and kissed Alec. He didn’t stir. She shook his shoulder. He grunted, rolled over, and put his arms about her waist.
“Darling, it’s time to wake up.”
“Noooo.”
“According to Ernie, via Sally.”
“I only just got to bed.” Alec sat up.
She poured and passed him his cup of tea. “Did you find out anything worth staying up late for?”
“Not really. The Vaughns and the Cartwrights are still in the picture. Besides them, the note Tom gave you is our best lead, though it could take a few days to lead anywhere.”
“How much longer will the super let you stay on the case?”
He shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. Until he needs me for something more important. I still think you should go home after the inquest.”
“Perhaps.” Daisy sighed. “I’ll go and see Isabel this morning.”
“Not too early. Underwood’s going to have a chat—try to have a chat, I should say—with Mrs. Hedger at about half past nine.”
“I’ll aim for half past ten. What are you doing this morning?”
“It depends on what information comes in from various feelers.”
“The Hotel Majestic? And the woman in St. Tropez?”
“Among others.” Dressing-gowned and sponge bag in hand, he went off to take a bath.
The sun shone in through the east-facing window. Daisy decided to go for a walk in the country after breakfast. In the latter days of October, fine days were not to be wasted.
Alec and Ernie were long gone when she went down. Only two couples remained in the dining room, so Sally was at leisure to chat. She brought Daisy’s scrambled eggs and toast, then stood leaning on the back of the other chair at the table.
“Mr. Piper wouldn’t tell me: Do they know yet who did it?”
“No.” Daisy was sure of that after what Alec had said. “They’re having a difficult time finding out about Mrs. Gray’s friends and acquaintances, because she didn’t really have any in Beaconsfield. I’m sorry to speak ill of a relative of yours, but your aunt isn’t at all helpful.”
“I doubt she knows much. She’s always been one to mind her own business.
Whenever I gave her a hand at Cherry Trees, she’d keep telling me not to poke my nose in where I shouldn’t.
As if I would! But I’d notice and remember visitors if I’d seen any.
There wasn’t none came while I was there,” Sally said regretfully.
“I wish I could help Mr. Piper. And Mr. Fletcher, of course.”
She departed to answer a call for fresh coffee.
Daisy took a pleasant walk through fields and woods.
The predominant beeches still enhanced the golden sunlight, though many leaves had fallen to crackle underfoot.
Silvery old man’s beard and the yellow and red berries of bryony wreathed the field hedges, with here and there a spindle tree flaunting its pink and orange fruit.
Rabbits popped out of their burrows to watch Daisy’s approach and disappeared underground as she came closer. Squirrels chittered at her from the safety of high branches. She wished she had Nana with her to have fun chasing them.
She remembered advising Isabel to get a watchdog. It still seemed a good idea. Now the three of them were back at home, they should start looking for a puppy.
On her return to the fringes of the town, Daisy passed a garden where someone was attempting to burn a pile of damp leaves and rubbish.
Clouds of smoke billowed across the road and grabbed her by the throat.
She tried not to inhale as she hurried past, but she started to cough, bringing on the nightmarish choking sensation that had made her bout of bronchitis so beastly.
She emerged from the haze gasping. A few yards ahead was a bus stop with a bench.
She sat down, and after a few minutes recovered her breath and her equanimity.
The doctor had warned that her lungs would be abnormally sensitive to irritants for a while, though with care they should recover completely.
Her chest still ached a bit, but slowly she walked on. By the time she reached Cherry Trees, she felt much better.
Isabel, naturally, was hoping for news of the investigation.
“Sorry,” said Daisy. “Alec was out very late last night but he didn’t tell me anything this morning. Not much at least. Just that they were expecting to hear from the Majestic and Mrs. Gray’s friend in St. Tropez.”
“Mr. Underwood told me they’d already had a telegram from the S?reté.”
“Police and hoteliers never sleep. What did it say?”
“The hotel has the trunks in storage and wants to know what to do with them, since madame didn’t take up her reservation.”
“Did Mr. Underwood get anything out of Mrs. Hedger?”
“No more than you and I did. What’s more, she marched out in a huff, saying she wouldn’t come back till I could promise she wouldn’t be pestered while she was trying to do her job.”
“Oh dear!”
“Mr. Underwood said he wasn’t going to try that again.
They’ll let her cool off and then, if they still need her, take her over to the station.
They have a lead to the Grays’ gardener, and they found out the names of the maid and housekeeper, so they’re looking for them.
When they find them, they may not have to bother with Mrs. Hedger. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
“He told you much more than Alec told me!”
Isabel smiled. “He stayed for a cup of coffee.” While she and Daisy talked, she had made a fresh pot of coffee and moved a few gingersnaps from a cooling rack onto a plate, and they had adjourned from kitchen to sitting room.
“I’m not sure Mrs. Hedger isn’t more trouble to me than she’s worth, too.
I’m really fed up with her. Have another biscuit. ”
“Thanks. They’re delicious. You must have been up early baking.”
“No earlier than usual. They’re very quick to make.”
“You must be busy, though. I don’t want to keep you from what you were going to do.” Daisy started to get up.
“No, wait.” Isabel glanced at the window. “I was going to work in the garden, but judging by the gloom, it’s going to start pouring any minute. I thought the sunshine wouldn’t last. I wonder if you’d mind lending a hand.…”
“Anything I can do to help.”
“Just keeping me company for half an hour, really. The thing is, I want to work out what needs doing in the cellar to make it suitable for storing apples. Jams and bottled fruit, too, and root vegetables. And— Well, to tell the truth, I don’t want to be down there alone.”
“I don’t blame you!”
“When I went down to inspect the cleaning, the workmen were with me, you see. Not that I believe in ghosts, but I’d just rather not…”
“Of course I’ll come. You’re bound to need someone to hold one end of a tape measure or something.”
“I’ll borrow Vera’s tape measure. Dressmaking is not one of my domestic skills.” Isabel went over to a Victorian sewing table.
“I’ll get my notebook from my coat pocket.”
Isabel dropped off the coffee tray in the kitchen on the way. The door to the cellar stood ajar, as she had been airing it since it was cleaned. She stepped on to the landing and reached to her right to click on the electric light.
“The men nailed a lath across the broken rail, but I don’t know how strong it is. Be careful.”
“I won’t touch it.” Daisy sniffed as she stepped through the door. All she could smell was ginger biscuits. “I’m glad I didn’t actually see the body.”
“So am I! I don’t think I’d ever have been able to use the cellar if I had. It will smell wonderful when it’s full of apples.”
Leaving the door wide open, they cautiously descended the steep, narrow stairs. The handrail bolted to the wall seemed sound enough. Daisy tried to avoid looking at the shallow, rectangular excavation where the body had lain.
Apart from a few ordinary shelves in one corner, the wine racks were obviously unsuitable for the kind of storage Isabel needed. “You’ll be able to reuse the side pieces, won’t you?”
“I should think so.”
“Heavens, if these racks were all filled with bottles, he could have tippled day and night for years.” Hearing a heavy thud in the house above, Daisy glanced up at the doorway. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Isabel said with a frown. “I can’t think of anything left in a position where it might fall. Unless Vera stacked her books in a tall, untidy pile—but I doubt we’d hear that down here, all the way from her bedroom. It sounded like the front door slamming.”
“I’m sure you shut it. Did you lock it?”
“No. I really must get in the habit of—”
“Hello? Where are you?” A male voice, on the edge of hysteria. It was vaguely familiar to Daisy.
“Oh blast!” Isabel exclaimed. “It’s Vaughn. I suppose he’s—”
“I know you’re at home. Where are you?”
“Should I tell him about the Majestic?”
“If it’ll get rid of him,” Daisy advised.
Isabel moved towards the staircase, but before she reached it Vaughn appeared at the top.
Dressed in an overcoat of a rather too vivid blue, he hadn’t doffed his hat on entering the house so unceremoniously.
In one hand he held the strap of a leather satchel, in the other a dripping umbrella. His face was very pale.
“You know where Judith went,” he shouted at Isabel. “The copper wouldn’t tell me, but it was obvious he knew and only you could have told him.”
“I found out since last time you asked me,” Isabel said soothingly. “The police are pretty certain she’s dead, but she seems to have made plans to stay at the Hotel Majestic in Paris.”
“The Majestic? I’ll find it. But I can’t have you setting the coppers on my trail. I’m going to lock you in.”