“A
re you awake, darling?”
“I am now.”
“Sorry!” Daisy kissed Alec's ear in a most unsorry fashion.
He rolled over and took her in his arms. The ensuing interlude was entirely satisfactory to both.
The tower clock chimed eight. Alec sat up abruptly.
“I asked you to wake me at seven thirty!”
“I did. There's no hurry. No one will be up for ages. You'll think better if you're rested. Lie down, darling, you're letting a draught in.”
He obeyed, muttering, “I bet Tom and Ernie are up.”
“Haven't they got things they can do without you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I told Tom to have another go at the servants this morning, and to see if he can find the gardener who assisted Lord Fotheringay in the conservatory. Thank heaven I have a sergeant I can rely on to ask the right questions without detailed instructions! And Ernie's to go over the conservatory with a fine-tooth comb. We couldn't do a thorough job by oil lamp and electric torch.”
“That made it even beastlier finding him.” Daisy shivered, and Alec put his arm around her. “The gloom and shadows, I mean. I
hope he's survived the night. Or maybe I don't, if he's going to die anyway.”
“I shouldn't tell you this, love, and you are absolutely not to repeat it to a soul, not even Lucy: the police surgeon is actually quite hopeful that Bincombe will come round.”
“Thank heaven! But why ⦠Oh, you're afraid the murderer might have another go at him if he's afraid he's recovering. Have you any idea who it is? You must have knocked a few people off the list, at least.”
“Just six names left. Last night that seemed an awful lot, but this morning it seems not too bad, considering how short a time we've been on the case and how many suspects we started with.”
“Good going. Who are they?”
“Daisy, you know that's another thing I shouldn't tell you.”
“Yes, you should,” she argued. “Otherwise how can I know whom to beware of? After all, it's me he's likely to come after next.”
“I hope not. It should be obvious that you've told me all you know.”
“That's what I told people last night. But still, I'd be much more comfortable knowing, darling.”
With a sigh he gave in. “Lord Carleton. Sir James and Lady Devenish and Teddyâat least for Lady Eva's murder, assuming conspiracy. And Montagu Fotheringay and John Walsdorf.”
“Not John Walsdorf. I was alone with him long before I had a chance to tell you everything. In fact, he could easily have read my note to you saying I had things to tell you. He wasn't even one of the people who came up here and insisted on talking to me.”
“No? Who was? Tom only told me about Montagu.”
“Jennifer ⦠Oh!”
“Oh indeed,” Alec said grimly. “Don't write off John Walsdorf yet.”
“She left a bromide for me, in case I couldn't sleep.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Come to think of it, she actually brought it for Lucy, who didn't want it. But she left it on the little table by the door.” Daisy sat up. “Yes, it's still there. Are you going to have it analysed?”
“Most definitely”
“Jennifer may not have known anything about anything John did.” She snuggled down again. “I suppose Lady Eva knew something about him?”
“Yes, and I'm not telling you what.”
“I wonder if it had anything to do with his letter.”
“His letter? Daisy, what have you been keeping from me now?”
“Nothing, really. I keep forgetting about it. Only when I went to the library first thing to call the doctor and police about Lady Eva, he was already there and writing something. He shoved it under the blotter when he saw me. Then this evening, after I found Gerald, Ernie Piper gave me the blotter to lean on when I wrote you that note. When I put it back on the desk, I saw Walsdorf's letter lying there.”
“Did you read it?” Alec demanded.
“Darling, one simply doesn't read other people's letters.”
“Great Scott, Daisy, this is a murder investigation!”
“Actually, it was in a foreign language,” Daisy confessed. “I can't see what it could possibly have to do with the murders.”
“We can't tell unless we read it.”
Alec swung his legs out of bed, running his fingers through the crisp dark hair that never looked ruffled. He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I'll have to shave.”
“And dress, darling. You don't look very official in your pyjamas.”
“No?” he said in mock disappointment. “I thought you got me the dark blue for when I'm called out in the middle of the night.”
“Bel chose them, remember. You look very handsome in them, but not official. I'll dig out your clothes while you wash and shave.”
“Thanks, love.”
A maid had unpacked his bag, the one that was kept in constant
readiness at the Yard, and tucked the clean shirts and underwear and the large supply of handkerchiefs away in the chest of drawers. Even before they were married, Daisy had learnt that he always carried extra hankies for weeping witnesses and sobbing suspects.
She ferreted out vest, pants, socks and shirt. Finding his tie where he had discarded it the night before, she rolled it up tightly in an attempt to smooth it, as she didn't want to waste time summoning a maid to iron it. He always wore his Royal Flying Corps tie when dealing with the upper classes. Not having a public school or club tie, it was the best he could do to put himself on a level with those who cared about such things, and it often helped.
He had hung up his suit neatly in the wardrobe, and the tie came out of its roll looking quite respectable, though the narrow end had a tendency to curl inward.
“Thanks, love,” said Alec, coming through from the bathroom to find all his clothes neatly laid out for him. “I think I'll keep you.”
“What a relief! I assume all the people left on your list are on Lady Eva's, too.”
“Yes, but I really am not going to tell you what for.”
“No, but you can tell me whether they've admitted knowing she knew.”
“Some have. Let me think: Montagu and Sir James, oh, and Teddy. Lady Devenish equivocated but I'm pretty sure of her. Walsdorf and Carleton adamantly deny Lady Eva ever spoke to them.”
“That's interesting. Her son, daughter-in-law and brother on one side and distant relatives by marriage on the other. It wouldn't surprise me if they were telling the truth. Why should she care if Walsdorf and Carleton misbehaved? The others might bring scandal on her family.”
Alec stopped buttoning his shirt and stared. “You may have a point there, Daisy. If I can just remember which of the others ⦠Teddy Devenish, her grandson, had been spoken to severely. Lady Ione you know aboutâshe was her niece.”
“There you are, then. If she hadn't spoken to Walsdorf and Carleton, they had no motive to do her in.”
“It's only a theory, but I must say it's quite persuasive. I'll keep it in mind. By the way, there's one other suspect I forgot to mention. Tom thinks we ought to add Baines to the list.”
“Tom thinks the butler did it?” Daisy asked in astonishment.
“No, but he is the only servant with a key to the connecting door.”
“He might have had a chance to poison Lord Fotheringay's tea, too, but I bet he was in the housekeeper's room after dinner, drinking port and discussing the shocking doings. The coffee was in a Thermos. Servants expect to have time off in the evenings these days, even when people are being murdered right, left and centre. Gosh, I do hope Dr. Philpotts is right about Gerald!”
“No more fervently than I do. Quite apart from his being a good chap, I dread to think what Superintendent Crane and the AC are going to say about this débâcle.”
“There's absolutely no need to worry about that, darling,” said Daisy. “They will undoubtedly blame the whole thing on me.”
Â
Downstairs, Alec went first to enquire after Lord Gerald. The young uniformed constable on guard came to attention and saluted smartly.
“Anyone asking after him?” Alec asked.
“Just the one toff last night, sir. Gentleman, that is. Came when everyone else'd just gone upstairs.” He consulted his notebook. “Lieutenant Colonel Fotheringay. Said he's by way of being acting host and besides, he needed to know in case his grandfather asked, which is Lord Haverhill, he said, which owns this place.”
“And you told him ⦠?”
“Lord Gerald Bincombe is unconscious, sir, and like to stay that way till he dies. That's what the nurse says, anyways, sir. She come out a couple of times to the cloakroom, and that's what she told me. PC Jones, he's the man patrolling the house, he stopped here for a minute a couple of times so I could go piss, sir, and he said no one
came while I was gone. Then this morning, the butler came to ask and I told him the same.”
Both entirely natural enquiries, Alec thought.
“And DS Tring, he came by, too, an hour ago maybe. Said to tell you he'd be talking to the servants and DC Piper was in the conservatory.”
“All right. I'll arrange for someone to take over here as soon as I can.” He knocked gently and went on into the room.
Mrs. Maple had provided a Chinese-painted rattan screen to keep draughts from the door off the patient. The nurse came around it, finger to her lips. A plump, middle-aged woman, in a white cap and starched apron, she looked almost as crisp and alert as when Alec had spoken to her briefly last night, explaining what he wanted her to say about her patient's condition.
“He's moving his hands about, sir,” she said in a low voice, “and once or twice I've thought I heard him muttering.”
“A good sign?”
“Compared to what he was. Likely he'll come round, I'd say But whether he'll make sense and whether he'll recover or relapse, your guess is as good as mine.”
Alec went round the screen. Bincombe lay still as a log, but it was possible to imagine that he had a touch of colour in his face. Alec felt hope rising.
“If he says anything you can make sense of, make sure you write it down and let me know at once. You're all right until someone comes to relieve you?” he asked the nurse.
“Not to worry, sir, I'm good for as long as it takes. There's many a time I've been on my feet all night. This was nothing.”
He thanked her and went to join Piper in the conservatory.
He found his detective constable helping a grizzled gardener repot the fallen palm.
“It's what his lordship would've wanted,” the old man said doggedly, tears rolling unnoticed down his ruddy, seamed cheeks.
“Just done it a couple o' days ago, us did, him and me, seeing it was getting cramped in the old pot. Very slow grower, this here tree, and a rare 'un. Us've had it a dunnamany years. It grows leaning, see, on a slant like, and the top o' the trunk's thicker nor the bottom. And the loose soil in the new pot didn't help none, else it wouldnât've fallen. The rest o' the palms, the rootball gets that tight and heavy they'd just go on standing there, was you to break their pots. Mebbe you can tell me, sir, seeing this young fella can't, who killed his lordship, that never did none any harm?”
“We don't know yet, but we will. Have you finished with my young fella?”
“Ay, sir, I can manage now. My thanks to you, lad, and there'll be more when you lay hands on who killed his lordship.”
“Well?” Alec asked as they moved away.
“I finished going over the place,” Ernie said, “before I lent the old chap a hand. It was a wash-out. I know a lot more about growing palms than I used to, though. And he confirmed what Miss Lucy said, that children visiting are warned about the poisonous plants over and over.”
“I'd forgotten that. But it would add weight to Daisy's latest theory.”
“What's that, Chief?”
“That Lady Eva was more likely to speak to close relatives about their misdeeds than to those who wouldn't bring scandal on her immediate family. I don't for a moment believe she never spoke to Lady Devenish about the snapping up of unconsidered trifles. Walsdorf and Carleton also both denied she'd mentioned her discoveries to them, remember, and I'm more inclined to believe them. Neither would have visited as a child. It's not definitive, of course. Either might happen to know about poisonous plants, or Lord Fotheringay might have pointed them out. Dammit, nothing is definitive! I assume the gardener wasn't anywhere near here at the crucial times?”