02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall (14 page)

‘Mrs
Gooden told me what happened,’ said Mrs Hodges, as she and the butler relaxed
for a few minutes in the housekeeper’s sitting room to enjoy their mid-morning
cup of tea. ‘How the sergeant came down here and found out all about what had
happened to poor little Mabel and the grudge Robert held against Lord Sneddon.’

‘Yes, I
came as soon as I realised what was going on. That inspector’s a clever fellow.
He’d kept me out of the way in the study answering his questions. I had
stupidly let slip in front of his lordship that I’d sent Robert to see if Brimshaw
had driven Miss Josephine anywhere, you know, when we found out she’d
disappeared. His lordship hit the roof about it and, of course, the inspector
wanted to know why Robert had been dismissed so suddenly.’

‘Ah,
well, no harm done,’ said the housekeeper, taking a sip of tea. ‘They now know
that Robert can’t have killed Lord Sneddon, not with us having kept all of the
doors to the attic locked at night.’

‘But
that’s just it, Mrs Hodges,’ said Crabtree, his face at last showing the worry
that he had kept bottled up inside all morning, ‘and I’d only say this to you. I
locked the door last night, I know I did because I distinctly remember doing so.
But this morning when I went to open it, slightly later than usual I grant you
because of all the to-do with Lord Sneddon, I found it was open.’

‘Open?’

‘Yes.
Well, what I mean is that it was closed but unlocked.’

‘So….’

‘So
Robert could have done it. He could have crept out in the night and killed him,
and no one would have been any the wiser.’

‘Ah,
the poor boy,’ wailed Mrs Hodges, clutching at her teacup, the tea within it
now lukewarm and quite forgotten.

‘Well,
that was rather unexpected, sir,’ said Lane as both he and Deacon came back
into the study and closed the door behind them.

‘It
certainly puts a different complexion on things,’ agreed the inspector settling
himself down on the sofa while the sergeant took out his notebook and started
scribbling down some notes on their discovery. ‘It opens up another motive,
certainly. If he was doing that, it makes me wonder what else he may have been
doing. We never did think very much of his moral character, did we, Sergeant,
but even we didn’t think he would stoop so low.’

‘Do you
think someone may have found out what he was doing?’ enquired the sergeant.
‘You know, caught him in the act. Even the baron might have thought twice about
letting his daughter marry such a rogue. Talking of the baron, he’s got quite a
temper on him, hasn’t he? Look at the way he laid into that poor butler of his
for not sending the footman away. I’d say he’s not a man to cross. I reckon
even Sneddon would have come out the worst in a fight with him.’

‘So do
I, Lane, so do I. I say, this makes me keen to meet this so called valet of his,
Ricketts, didn’t you say the chap’s name was? I wonder whether they were in it
together. It would make more sense if they were. I can’t see old Sneddon
carrying out the deed himself, can you? He wouldn’t have had the opportunity to
snoop around for a start. Whoever did that would have had to do it while
everyone else was busy downstairs, the baron and his family and guests in the
dining and drawing rooms, and the servants occupied with waiting on them.’

‘It
would still have taken some nerve, sir. If this Ricketts fellow had been caught
coming out of one of the women’s rooms he’d have found it hard to come up with
a decent excuse. More likely as not they would have called us in.’

‘Well,
he must have been very good at it because as far as we know he wasn’t caught. Unless
the murderer caught him, of course, but no, that doesn’t make sense, otherwise
it would be Ricketts we would have found dead draped over the desk in the
library, not Lord Sneddon.’

‘Shall
I get the fellow in now, sir, see what he has to say for himself?’

‘Yes…
no, on second thoughts let’s leave him for a bit. He’s not going anywhere so
let’s leave him to fret for a while wondering what we know. Then maybe he’ll be
more cooperative when we do speak to him. You had better get one of the
constables to keep an eye on him, though. We don’t want him to scarper before
we’ve had a chance to interrogate him.’ Deacon moved over to the fireplace to
study the picture of the bird again. ‘You know, Lane, this painting really is
jolly fine. Quite the thing for a country squire to have in his study. Now let
me see, I think we’ll have the Honourable Hallam Atherton in next. We’ll give the
Honourable Isabella Atherton a little more time to compose herself, I think.  And
we never did find out from their father the identity of the guests staying
here. We’ll ask this Hallam fellow and also find out what he really thought of
Sneddon.’

Deacon sat
down on the leather settee to collect his thoughts. There would be a short
delay before the sergeant returned. Not only did Lane have to brief one of the
constables stationed in the hall to keep an eye on the whereabouts of Lord
Sneddon’s valet, but the guests and members of the household were still holed
up in the garden room, which was located a little distance from the study.

Deacon
decided to put the time to good use. Now, what were his first impressions of
the murder scene? Thinking it over, as he did now, he found the location of
Sneddon’s body worried him. If the man had come across Josephine and Brimshaw
as they had prepared for flight and had as a consequence become embroiled in a
fight with the chauffeur, a theory he himself had put forward to Lane, then
surely there would have been signs of the furniture having been knocked out of
place or even overturned in the ensuing struggle. And Sneddon’s body would have
been found lying on the floor not seated in a chair drawn up to the desk. It
was a nonsense to suppose that Brimshaw and Josephine would have taken the time
to drag Sneddon’s body over the carpet and position him in the chair. What was
the point of it? They would have been much better to arrange his body in one of
the wing chairs by the fire where its presence would have been hidden from
anyone passing the door or going into the library for a book. It could not even
be argued that they had tried to disguise the murder as a suicide. The little
gold letter opener had been left protruding from Sneddon’s back for all to see the
cause of death.

So what
had Sneddon been doing at the desk? An empty glass and half empty whisky decanter
had been found on the occasional table beside one of the armchairs near the
fire. Sneddon had obviously sat there drinking. What had made him move away
from the warmth of the dying fire to the writing desk? He sighed. It was yet
something else that he and Lane would need to find out if they were to solve this
case. There was something else niggling him too. It had struck him as soon as
he had laid eyes on Lord Sneddon’s body. He had meant to mention it to Lane at
the time but he had been distracted by other things. Oh well, it would have to
wait now. They needed to get on with interviewing the household and guests,
find out where everyone was, and who the last person was to see Lord Sneddon
alive.

Rose paced
the garden room wondering what to do. The police had spoken to the baron and
now she supposed they would want to speak to Hallam and Isabella. It would be a
little while before they asked to speak to her surely, so plenty of time for
her to decide what to say and do. She looked over to where Isabella was sitting
on the settee, her face pale and white. It would have made another woman look
faded and drawn. On Isabella it only accentuated her beauty, making her look
fragile and vulnerable. Perhaps the police would take pity on her. Oh, how she
hoped so. Then it wouldn’t be so awful what she had to tell them. They may be
reluctant to jump to the obvious conclusion if Isabella looked delicate. They
would think she was distraught by her fiancé’s death rather than merely
shocked. They would want to help her and lessen the ordeal of being
interviewed. They would not see the hidden steeliness of her character or think
that a woman such as Isabella could be quite ruthless when it came to self-preservation.
A woman would see that, Rose felt, a woman such as herself who Isabella was not
trying to impress. Perhaps things would be alright after all. Perhaps she
wouldn’t be faced with having to make a choice as to whether or not to tell the
police what she knew.

But wouldn’t
she then be guilty of withholding evidence? She knew it was her duty to tell
the police what she knew of Isabella being blackmailed by Sneddon. But if she
did she would be giving Isabella a clear motive for wishing him dead. She
remembered her promise to Josephine to say nothing to anyone of the blackmail
business. But Josephine hadn’t known then that Sneddon was going to be
murdered. She had promised to sort it out, but where was she now? She had
abandoned her sister and, anyway, Isabella had not known that Josephine had
undertaken to rescue her from her awful predicament. What if Isabella
considered a future with Sneddon too awful to endure? What if she had thought
that death was the only way out; either her own, or Sneddon’s? And, once she
had decided on that course of action, she had carried it through? Whichever way
she looked at it, Rose felt that she could not just hand Isabella over to the
police on a plate. They might not bother to search for another motive for
Sneddon’s murder, and how would she feel then? But on the other hand she did
not wish to be guilty of withholding evidence or of obstructing the police from
their enquiries or whatever it was called. So really there was only one thing
for it, she must forewarn Isabella.

She
walked unhurriedly over to the sofa as casually as she could and sat down next
to Isabella. She leaned towards her slightly and hoped that to a casual
observer it would appear only that she was trying to express her condolences.
Isabella did not help. If anything she looked annoyed by Rose’s unexpected
appearance beside her, and made to shift her seat and move a little away to the
other end of the sofa. Rose put out her hand and touched her lightly on the
forearm both to get her attention and to prevent her from moving. Isabella
flinched slightly and looked furious, but at least her eyes were now turned to
look at Rose.

‘Listen,
I know Lord Sneddon was blackmailing you,’ Rose said in a hurried whisper. ‘And
I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell the police.’ Isabella’s eyes grew wide at
this and she looked positively scared. ‘I have to, don’t you see?’ Rose carried
on urgently. ‘They’re bound to find out. They’ll find your letters in Sneddon’s
possessions if nothing else, and it will look bad for you. But if you tell them
about it first, then perhaps it won’t look so awful. Do you understand what I’m
saying?’ No word escaped Isabella’s lips, but Rose thought she could just about
make out the barest of nods. It would have to do, she had done her best. It was
now up to Isabella whether she followed her advice. She did not look up, afraid
that Cedric’s or Hallam’s eyes would be on her, staring at her curiously.
Unless they were blind, they must be wondering what she was talking so urgently
to Isabella about; unless they were too wrapped up in their own thoughts, of
course.

But
before she could think about it all any further, the door opened, a constable appeared
and Hallam was called for interview.

‘Ah,
Lane, back already? I thought it would take a while for you to get the son and
bring him back with you.’ Deacon got up reluctantly from the sofa.

‘I
decided to send one of the constables to get him, sir. I thought it would be
better if I got myself positioned, so to speak. You know, seated in that chair
behind the settee so he hardly knows I’m there taking notes of everything he
says. I’ll just blend into the background, become part of the wallpaper. It
does mean, though, that I didn’t get a look at the guests. Not that I would
have recognised any of them as they’re bound to be toffs.’

‘Well,
you’re here now, Sergeant, so better get seated and let’s put your theory into
practice. Because, unless I am very much mistaken, I hear his footsteps
approaching now, along with those of that constable you sent to fetch him.’

Deacon’s
first impression of the Honourable Hallam Atherton was how very young he
looked. His second impression was that the boy was clearly scared. The
inspector looked up and caught his sergeant’s eye; good, Lane was obviously of
the same opinion, which was somewhat strengthened by Hallam’s refusal to sit
down. Instead the young man began pacing the room, his manner restive. The
inspector noticed that he clenched and unclenched his hands as if he did not
know what to do with them, and every now and then he passed his fingers through
his hair as if they were a comb. The boy was clearly agitated about something.

‘She
had nothing to do with it, you know.’

‘Who
didn’t?’ Deacon asked, at once interested.

‘Josephine,
of course, my sister. She had absolutely nothing to do with Sneddon’s death.’

‘I’m
not aware that I
had suggested she had,’ Deacon replied, speaking
slowly. The boy scowled at him, a red blush spreading across his face. He went
to bite his nails and then thought better of it.

‘Yes,
but you were about to. Cedric said you were bound to suspect her because she
disappeared on the same night that Sneddon was murdered. But she couldn’t have
done it, do you hear me? Josephine wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘I’m
glad to hear it,’ the inspector said, gently. ‘And if what you say is true,
then she has nothing to be afraid of.’

At once
the boy looked relieved. He stopped his pacing and flung himself down
inelegantly on the sofa. ‘I thought you’d decide it must be her and not
investigate properly.’

‘That’s
not how we operate, sir,’ answered Lane from where he was sitting behind the
sofa, clearly offended. Hallam jumped involuntarily as if unaware of Lane’s
presence in the room.

‘I’m
glad to hear it,’ the boy said, turning around to face Lane. ‘Of course, I
appreciate it looks a bit odd, but I think Josephine’s just taken herself away
for a few days.’

‘So you
don’t think she’s eloped with Brimshaw?’ Deacon asked, trying hard to hide his
surprise.

‘Of
course not, the idea’s preposterous.’ Hallam turned his attention back to the
inspector.  ‘My sister would never consider eloping with a servant. I’m afraid
you are barking up the wrong tree there, inspector.’

‘Indeed,
and yet she is not here, is she, sir? You don’t find it a little strange that
your sister should choose both this weekend and at such an unearthly hour to
decide to up and leave. She must have felt something was very important not to
wait until morning. So she left in the dead of night with no explanation and
has not returned to explain herself. You have guests staying here this weekend,
don’t you? Would she usually disappear in the middle of entertaining? Is it the
way she normally behaves?’

‘Of
course not.’ Hallam frowned and glared at the carpet. ‘She’s a jolly good
hostess, everyone says so.’

‘And
yet she has gone, and you don’t think she’s eloped with the chauffeur. Don’t
you think that would be the logical explanation for her disappearance?’

‘No…yes…I
don’t know, you’re confusing me.’ The boy looked close to tears. ‘I don’t think
she would elope with Brimshaw, no,’ he said slowly, as if he was trying to work
it out for himself as he said the words. ‘I know she would never have killed
Sneddon. And, God forbid, if she had she would have stayed and faced the music,
not run away. But if you are asking me where she is or why she felt the need to
vanish as she has then I’m afraid I don’t know.’ He looked up at the inspector,
clearly anxious. ‘You think she’s all right, don’t you? You don’t think
anything’s happened to her?’

‘No,
I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll find her, don’t you worry. Now, first things first,
did you know Lord Sneddon was coming to stay here this weekend.’

‘No, I
jolly well didn’t’.’ The boy now sounded indignant. ‘I’d jolly well have
prevented it, if I’d known he was coming down, I can tell you. But Isabella was
very cloak and dagger about it all. She wouldn’t let on who she was bringing
down with her. Why, we didn’t even know if it was going to be a man or a woman.
Josephine was in quite a state about it. She didn’t know which bedroom to ask
Mrs Hodges to get ready.’

‘I see.
So your sister Josephine didn’t know either?’

‘That’s
what I’ve just said. She had no idea and it was all jolly inconvenient, I can
tell you. Not made any easier by them arriving so late. At one point we thought
we were going to have to start dinner without them. But that’s just like
Isabella. She can be awfully inconsiderate at times.’

‘So,
just so we are absolutely clear, neither you nor your sister, Josephine, had
any idea that Lord Sneddon would be coming to stay at Dareswick this weekend?’

No,
only….’ Hallam hesitated and looked at his hands.

‘Only
what?’ Deacon prompted him.

‘Oh,
it’s probably nothing.’

‘I’ll
be the judge of that if you don’t mind. Only what?’

‘Well,
Josephine was awfully keen to know who Isabella was bringing down with her. I
was curious too, of course, because she was being jolly secretive about it. But
Josephine
really
wanted to know. She kept pestering me about it, wouldn’t
leave off. It was driving me to distraction, I can tell you.’

‘Do you
think she may have had an inkling it would be Lord Sneddon?’

‘No, I
don’t think so, Inspector. I suppose you know already that there was a time
when she and Sneddon were rather sweet on each other. Father was imagining
wedding bells and all that. But it didn’t come to anything. No doubt the
servants have filled you in on that awful business with the little maid.
Anyway, I was very anxious when Sneddon appeared. I was afraid it would be an
awful shock for Josephine, and of course it was. She went very pale and looked
as if she was about to faint.’

‘I
see.’ Deacon looked thoughtful.

‘The
funny thing is, Inspector, that when my father went and gave that awful toast,
you know, wishing the happy couple all the best and all that, well I could have
sworn that Josephine looked relieved. Doesn’t make sense, does it, not if she
was still fond of the blighter?’

‘It
wouldn’t appear to, no,’ agreed Deacon.

‘Even
so, it was awfully thoughtless of Isabella to spring it on us like that. If she
hadn’t got Sneddon to speak to Father before dinner and ask his permission for
Isabella’s hand in marriage, well then I think he’d have been out on his ear.’

‘I
understand you didn’t take Lord Sneddon’s appearance on the scene that well,’
said Deacon, carefully.

‘You
bet I didn’t,’ Hallam said, his voice rising. ‘I wanted to give him what for, I
can tell you. How the man had the nerve to show his face here after what he’d
done, I don’t know. And Father expected us just to sit there and pretend that
nothing was wrong, that he would be a welcome addition to our family. While all
the time I just wanted to ….’ He banged his fist on to the sofa cushion.

‘Yes?
What did you want to do, Mr Atherton?’

‘Nothing,’
Hallam mumbled. He got up from the sofa, hovered for a moment uncertainly, and
then lowered himself back down again, defeated. ‘Sorry, I got a bit carried
away.’

‘Did
you kill Lord Sneddon, Mr Atherton?’

‘No, of
course I didn’t. How can you suspect such a thing? I was jolly annoyed with the
chap, of course, who wouldn’t be in my position? But I didn’t murder him.’

Deacon
found that he felt pity towards the young man. He watched as Hallam sat
squirming in his seat, his eyes averted. He feels he’s made a bit of a fool of
himself, thought the inspector, and of course he has. But more importantly for
us, he has shown that he can work himself up and then who knows what he may be
capable of? Yes, he’s highly strung, that lad. Aloud, as much to change the
subject and encourage Hallam to talk as anything else, he said:

‘We are
trying to determine Lord Sneddon’s movements on the night that he died, or it
might have been in the early hours of this morning. And we need to know the
movements of everyone else, of course; just routine, you understand. When did
you last see Lord Sneddon?’

‘Well,
it was last night, of course. Let me see, about half past ten I would imagine.
Cedric and I decided to call it a night and go up to bed early. We left Sneddon
deep in conversation with my father. To tell you the truth, it had been an
awful evening and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. We’d had a jolly nice day wandering
over to the village. Sneddon had disappeared off to London so we didn’t have to
worry about him being there to spoil things. But then he came back. He cut it a
bit sharp, almost missed dinner again. Anyway, it was awful. No one felt
inclined to talk. Only Father put a brave face on everything. Everyone else was
miserable, even Isabella. I was trying to be on my best behaviour, you know,
not saying anything. Father had put the fear of God in me that morning, said if
I did anything to try and stop Isabella from marrying the fellow he’d
disinherit me and all that.’

‘I see.
And that was the last time you saw Lord Sneddon?’

‘It
was. I feel jolly rotten now, to tell the truth. If I’d realised at the time he
only had a couple more hours on this earth I daresay I’d have been a bit nicer
to him.’

‘Right,
now who’s this Cedric chap? You’ve mentioned him a couple of times. Is he one
of the guests staying here?’

‘Yes,
Cedric, or Ceddie as his sister Lavinia will call him.’ Hallam laughed, unaware
that both the inspector and sergeant had looked up sharply on hearing this. ‘I
still want to keep calling him Lord Sedgwick, but he’s come into the earldom
now. He’s the Earl of Belvedere.’ This time Hallam caught the exchange of
glances between inspector and sergeant. ‘I say, do you know him, have you come
across Cedric before?’

‘We
have indeed, sir, a couple of months or so ago. Our paths crossed when we were
investigating an incident at Ashgrove House.’

‘Oh,
were you the police chappies who looked into all that?’ Hallam asked,
excitedly. ‘Jolly good. Cedric spoke very highly of you, you know.’ With that
Hallam bounded to the door looking relieved but also anxious to be gone.

‘Just a
moment, Mr Atherton, before you go. Can you tell us please who else is staying
here? Have you any other guests staying apart from the Lord Belvedere?’

‘Oh
yes, Miss Simpson. Miss Rose Simpson. She’s…. oh, but of course you already
know her, don’t you, because she was at Ashgrove as well, wasn’t she?’