While they spoke, Ernie Piper had reached for his list and turned to the second page. Now he replaced it on the desk in front of Alec, his finger pointing at a name. Alec glanced down.
“What's that?” Lucy demanded. “You know now I'm not the murderer. I was with you when Uncle Aubrey died.”
“Lord Gerald was with him.”
“But Binkie wasn't here when ⦠Oh Lord, you think we're hand in glove? That I killed Aunt Eva and he killed Uncle Aubrey?”
“I have to consider the possibility. Why did he turn up today when he was not expected until Friday?”
“I telephoned and asked him to come.”
“You see, you could have told him you were afraid Lord Fotheringay knew something which might lead us to suspect you.”
“But I didn't. I just wanted to tell him something I couldn't say over the phone.”
“What?” Alec asked bluntly.
Lucy bit her lip. “If you must know, that I wasn't going to marry him after all.”
Startled, Alec made a quick recovery and shot back, “Why not?”
“Because with Aunt Eva's legacy, I'll be able to ⦔ Her voice tailed off and she pressed her fingers to her lips.
“To live comfortably without him?”
“Yes,” she whispered, but with a defiant lift of her chin. Then she caught sight of her fingertips and stared in horror at the lip-rouge smeared there, the bright crimson of blood.
Alec forebore to state the obvious, that her admission confirmed a financial motive for Lady Eva's death. “Lord Gerald is devoted to you,” he said, “and when he arrived at Haverhill, he didn't yet know of your change of heart.” He paused, but she made no comment. He picked up the list of Ernie's gleanings from Lady Eva's files. “I have
here evidence of an additional reason for your wishing to rid yourself of your great-aunt.”
“Oh? What's that?” Lucy leant forward, interested, unalarmed.
“Something you most certainly wouldn't have wanted broadcast to the world.”
“It wasn't Aunt Eva's way to broadcast scandal to the world. I haven't done anything desperately wicked, and she never mentioned anything to me. What is it?”
Ernie bowed his head over his notebook. Tom took a sudden interest in his fingernails.
“You spent a night with Lord Gerald in his rooms.”
A tinge of pink crept into Lucy's cheeks, the first time Alec had ever seen her blush. “Well? This is 1924, not 1884. We're ⦠We were going to be married shortly.”
“Were. I rather doubt you'd want your parents or grandparents informed.”
“Oh, as to that, Mummy would have been upset, but everything I do upsets her. Grandfather would have refused to finance a grand wedding. I never wanted one.”
“You claim Lady Eva never spoke to you about her knowledge?”
“She didn't. I suppose, compared to some of the things she dug out about people, it was a minor peccadillo.”
“Because you were going to be married shortly. But you changed your mind. She might have written you out of her will.”
“I didn't change my mind until after she died. Oh hell, Alec, you don't really believe I killed her? Just to avoid marrying Binkie? I'm actually quite fond of him.”
Alec sighed. “It's not for me to believe or disbelieve. The evidence is all that counts. All I can say is that you're not the only person with more than one possible motive. What do you know about the plants in your uncle's conservatory?”
“Not much.” Lucy looked slightly puzzled, not at all alarmed. “I
took the tour whenever I came to stay, but just to please the old boy. I'm afraid I paid very little attention.”
“So you didn't know that some of the plants are poisonous.”
“Oh, yes. It was drummed into us very thoroughly as children, by Uncle Aubrey, nannies, parents, aunts and uncles. No one who visited as a child could possibly fail to know. But I'd be surprised if many of us remember which particular plants are poisonous. I certainly don't. Was Uncle Aubrey poisoned with his own greenery? How vile! It seems crass, somehow.”
“Murder is always vile and generally crass, whether the victim is an inoffensive person like Lord Fotheringay or ⦔
“Or an offensive person like Aunt Eva. She really was a nasty old busybody, wasn't she?” Lucy said with an air of detachment. “I wonder how she found out about me and Binkie. It's not terribly surprising someone got fed up enough to stop her prying for good.”
“Your room is close to hers. Did you hear any sounds in the nightâfootsteps, a cry, a door opening or closing?”
“Not a thing. I've been sleeping badly, because of this blasted wedding, and Mummy was worried I'd look haggish on Saturday so she made me take a powder last night.”
“Great Scott, Lucy,” Alec exploded, “why the deuce didn't you tell me right away?”
“That I took a sleeping powder? Oh, I suppose I couldn't have been creeping around murdering great-aunts after taking a bromide.”
“Did your mother watch you swallow it?”
“She mixed it with milk and practically poured it down my throat.”
At last a chance to knock one suspect off his list. Alec jumped up. “Right-oh, you stay here and answer Mr. Tring's questions while I find Mrs. Fotheringay.”
“Mummy's known as Mrs. Oliver here,” corrected Lucy obligingly. “Too many Mrs. Fotheringays.”
“I couldn't agree more. Where is Mrs. Oliver likely to be?”
“The drawing room or upstairs, I expect.”
Alec strode across the hall and entered the drawing room to find a crowd in the middle of the room, the outer members craning to see over the shoulders of those in front. Amidst a confused babble, someone said clearly, “Stand back, for heaven's sake, and give her air.”
His heart stood still. Another murder?
“W
hat's going on here?”
Daisy heard the question, recognized Alec's voice, but at the same time she was patting Aunt Vickie's hand while Binkieâno, Geraldâfanned her with a magazine, beseeching, “Daisy, Fletcher hasn't really arrested Lucy, has he?” Oliver knelt on the floor on the other side of the chair where the limp, white-faced woman slumped, patting her other hand.
“I keep telling her,” Daisy said, “she went to see him entirely off her own bat.”
The crowd parted and Alec came through.
“Thank heaven!” said Daisy. “Aunt Vickie, here's Alec now. Darling, tell her you haven't arrested Lucy!”
“Mrs. Fotheringay, I have not arrested Lucy. I have one question to put to you.” With his dark, fierce eyebrows lowered in one of his most forbidding frowns, he gazed around the faces all agog surrounding them. “Privately.”
The surplus population melted away, going to stand about the room in twos and threes muttering together with many a sidelong glance.
“I shall stay with my wife,” declared Oliver, rising creakily from his knees.
“By all means, sir.”
“Daisy!” said Mrs. Oliver faintly, gripping Daisy's hand.
“I shan't leave you, Aunt Vickie.” Daisy looked up at Alec with a lively interest mixed with a trace of concern. He had not arrested Lucy, but that didn't mean he was not about to.
Alec raised his eyebrows at Gerald.
“Oh, righty-ho,” said that gentleman in confusion, and retreated to hover in no-man's-land.
“Mrs. Fotheringay, did you go to your daughter's bedroom last night?”
“Why, yes.” A tinge of colour was returning to Aunt Vickie's face, to Daisy's relief. Nancy appeared with a glass of brandy, pressed it into her hand, and discreetly retreated. “Lucinda hasn't been sleeping well, you see, so I got a powder from my sister-in-lawâ”
“Your sister-in-law?”
“Oliver's sister-in-law, really. Marjorie, Henry's wife. She suffers from neuralgiaâhardly surprising, the way those girls of hers squabbleâand always has bromides by her in case she can't sleep. I took one to Lucinda, and a glass of warm milk. She didn't want to take it, but I mixed the powder into the milk and made her drink it, to the last drop.”
“What did you do with the glass?”
“I rinsed it at the basin in the bathroom and left it there.” She sniffed the brandy, wrinkled her nose, and handed it to Oliver, who took a gulp.
“I saw it this morning!” said Daisy. “I share a bathroom with Lucy. I was going to use it to brush my teeth but it looked sort of murky, you know, the way a milk glass does if it's not washed thoroughly. Darling, this means you can cross Lucy off your list.”
“I must have a word with Mrs. Henry. Is she here?”
“Yes, I'll fetch her over, shall I?” Oliver offered.
“No, point her out to me, if you don't mind.”
Alec went off to confirm the story.
“Does this mean he doesn't suspect Lucinda any longer?” Aunt Vickie asked, hopeful yet fearful.
“He just has to ask Mrs. Henry about the dosage and that sort of thing. You're all right now, aren't you? I'd better go and put poor Gerald out of his misery.”
Gerald was on tenterhooks. “Fletcher doesn't really believe Lucy's involved in this beastly business, does he?” he demanded.
“What he believes has nothing to do with it. He has to look at the facts, and Lucy is one of Lady Eva's heirs. He's delighted to clear her, I promise you.”
“She's in the clear, what?”
“As good as. I doubt Alec's suspicions would stretch as far as a conspiracy between Lucy, Aunt Vickie, and Mrs. Henry.”
“Must have suspected Lucy and me of conspiring,” Gerald pointed out. “Lucy couldn't have killed her uncle. I couldn't have killed Lady Eva.”
“True.”
“If Lucy's cleared, so am I. Here he comes. What-ho, Fletcher.”
“What-ho, Bincombe,” Alec returned genially. “You and Lucy are out of it, I'm glad to say. I don't suppose you've remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary when you entered the conservatory?”
“Sorry, old chap. Told you, I saw Lord Fotheringay lying there and as soon as I realized he was not breathing I concentrated on trying to revive him.”
“But you've had time to think about it since. Even the slightest impression of some small detail might help.”
Gerald flushed. “Other things to think about,” he muttered.
“Well, put your mind to it, there's a good fellow. If anything occurs to you, come and see me right away.”
Over Alec's shoulder, Daisy saw Sally and Rupert approaching.
“Watch out, darling,” she murmured, “the fire-breathing Lieutenant Colonel is upon us.”
“My husband, Mrs. Fletcher,” Sally introduced him. She looked nervous and Daisy wondered whether she had felt the rough side of his tongue.
“How do you do, Colonel. I don't suppose you remember me, Lucy's friend? I was Daisy Dalrymple when I last visited Haverhill.”
“Afraid not.” Cold, arrogant eyes passed over her indifferently. “How do you do.”
“This is my husband, Alec Fletcher. And do you know Gerald Bincombe?”
“Bincombe.” Rupert gave Gerald a cursory nod of recognition, which was returned in kind, without cordiality on either side. He turned to Alec. “Well, Inspector,” he said with a sneer, “I see you are hard at work hunting down my great-aunt's murderer.”
“And your father's,” Alec responded levelly.
“Oh, as to that, you're wasting your time. I'm sure you'll find it's a mare's nest. My father was in poor health. But I suppose the kudos is greater if you can claim to have solved two murders rather than one.”
“On the contrary. Two murders are often easier to solve than one. A second death by the same hand is apt to provide clues which aid in solving the first.”
“Ah, so that's why you're hoping Father was murdered.”
“I never hope for any man's damnation.” Alec's grey eyes were icy. The look that made subordinates shiver, suspects shudder, and malefactors wish they were at the North Pole had its effect on the Lieutenant Colonel, who blinked, visibly taken aback. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Daisy went out to the hall with Alec. “That was a ripping line,” she congratulated him, “though I'm not absolutely sure what you meant by it.”
“Nor am I!” he admitted with a rueful laugh. “I suppose I had it in
mind that disposing of Lady Eva might conceivably be viewed as a form of self-defence, but there's no possible justification for Lord Fotheringay's murder.”
“So doing him in would damn the murderer.”
“Something like that. Not a suitable conjecture for a policeman. My job is to make a present of him to the courts for judgment, not to St. Peter. Daisy, now you've had a chance to think about it, you're quite certain no one was about here in the hall when you and Lucy went to the conservatory? You didn't catch a glimpse of anyone on the terrace?”
Daisy shook her head regretfully. “Sorry, darling. Whoever put the stuff in the tea had plenty of time to get away. Gerald had been working on the poor old chap for several minutes before we arrived. I'm sure he was too engrossed in his artificial respiration to notice much else.”
“If he did see anything, it's been driven from his mind by this nonsense of Lucy's,” Alec grumbled. “She's not serious about calling it all off, is she?”
“Just at present, yes. Tomorrow, who knows?”
“It's not like her to be so indecisive.”
“She's just confused.”
“No doubt that's why she didn't mention having taken a bromide until I asked whether she'd heard any sounds in the night.”
“She's not used to being involved in police investigations,” Daisy excused her friend.
“At least I've eliminated her and Bincombe, which is about all I've accomplished so far!”
“Cheer up, darling. It may seem like forever but you've only been here a few hours, and you've had an extra murder on your hands.”
“Which, according to what I told the gallant Lieutenant Colonel, will make my job easier. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Impossible!”
“Yes.” He gave her a rueful grin. “But a policeman ought to find it
possible. You're giving me ideas above my station. I shan't be able to expect any cooperation from him now.”
“You couldn't have anyway. Luckily, he wasn't here, and his grandfather is still in charge at Haverhill.”
“True. I'd better go and see if Tom has managed to retrieve any further information that Lucy didn't think to give us. And you'd better go and lie down for a bit before dinner, love. You're looking a little worn.”
“Two murders in one day is a trifle wearing,” Daisy admitted, standing on tiptoe to kiss Alec on the nose. Then she went upstairs to put her feet up and try to work out how she was going to explain Lucy's state of mind to Gerald after dinner when she didn't understand it herself and wasn't sure Lucy did.
Alec returned to the library. Lucy looked round and raised elegantly arched eyebrows.
“All confirmed,” he said. “It's not that I doubted you, Lucy, but ⦔
“I know, Sergeant Tring has explained to me that you'll have to explain to the Chief Constable why you haven't arrested me. I'm afraid I haven't remembered seeing or hearing anything or anyone. We've been trying to work out what Uncle Aubrey could have observed that might have led you to Aunt Eva's murderer. It's a bit of a puzzler.”
“We haven't had time to put our minds to it, Chief, but Lord Fotheringay slept in the family wing, the other side of the house from the scene of the crime.”
“Your uncle wasn't a nocturnal rambler?”
“For all I know he came down every night to make sure his plants were tucked up cosily in their beddy-byes. But the straightforward way would be down the main stairs and across the hall, not round by the guest bedrooms.”
“Hmm, it's something we'll have to consider later, when I can talk to Lady Fotheringay. In the meantime, I have a long list of people to see this evening, so ⦔
“So I'll take my leave, before you change your mind and bring out the handcuffs.” Lucy rose, then hesitated, the flippant manner dropping away. “It has to be one of my relatives, doesn't it?”
“I'm sorry.”
“I don't hold you to blame,” Lucy said wryly. She gestured at the list on the desk. “If that's what I assume it is, we have enough secrets between us to furnish a dozen motives.”
She left and Alec had peace at last to delve into her family's secrets. He resumed scanning the list where he had left off, then started at the top again.
“Edward Devenish and his divorcée.” Alec reached for the telephone. “I must put in a call to his pals in Hampshire.”
Tom flipped through his notebook, but Ernie Piper beat him to it. “Hetheridge, Chief, Bill Hetheridge, Danesbury House, Nether Wallop.”
Alec asked the operator to find the number, ring through, and call him back. He went back to the list. “Sir James Devenish, prosecuted for assault and battery for horse-whipping a farmer who shot a fox ravaging his hen-house.”
“Five pounds or sixty days,” said Piper. “He paid, of course. Hefty damages, too.”
“Actual bodily harm, that's aggravated assault,” said Tom. “He should have done time for that.”
“Brother magistrates on the bench, no doubt, all sympathising with the chastisement of a dastard who dared to shoot a fox. As all his county friends would have heard about it, and he didn't actually go inside, it's not much of a secret. In fact, he's probably quite proud of himself. But even if he'd done something he didn't want known, he'd surely not believe his mother would tell the world.”
“Ah,” said Tom, “but it shows a propensity to violence, towards people as well as dumb animals, and he gets the London house back, remember. Maybe he wants to sell it. These landowners sometimes get desperate for ready cash.”
“Maybe. I hope we don't have to go into his financial position. Who's next? The present Lady Devenish.”
“Josephine Devenish, Chief, but Lady Eva mostly calls her âthat woman' in the records. Looks like they didn't get on.”
“She's been selling off family heirlooms and giving the proceeds to her son? So young Teddy comes in again.”