Death by the Book (15 page)

Madeline grinned sheepishly, hearing her aunt’s voice. “—family?”

“Not that I heard of.” Drew stood and gave her a quick kiss. “Now hurry along. We don’t want any international incidents.”

“But Drew—”

“I promise I’ll tell you all of my brilliant deductions once you come back. Now chop-chop.”

She gave him a pout and then another kiss. “Behave yourself while I’m gone.”

“I always behave.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “In one fashion or another.”

She giggled and hurried off. He took a moment to jot down notes about what he and Madeline had discussed, and then he considered how he might best spend the rest of the morning. He could pop up to Winchester, talk to Birdsong and visit Roger to see who his mystery rival may have been. Or he could pull out his volume of Shakespeare’s plays and see what references to Kent he might find. Or references, perhaps, to humbled greatness and scandals.

Smiling to see Mr. Chambers still sprawled out under his pilfered feather duster, he went over to Minerva again. She favored him with a slow blink of her green eyes.

“You must speak to your little boy,” he told her as he stroked
her velvet ears. “He’s taken to petty theft, and it will be the ruin of him if he’s not taught to mend his ways.”

She merely closed her eyes and stretched out her tabby-striped legs, purring.

“Yes, I know,” he soothed. “He hasn’t any father about to set him straight.”

The thought of fathers brought Daniel Montford to Drew’s mind, and he went back to the desk. Inheritances were often motive for murder, but was Daniel the sort to carry out something like that? He certainly seemed overly upset by the idea of anyone looking into his father’s death. Surely there was more to that than a desire to protect his mother.

What about his mother? She certainly seemed the epitome of gentle womanliness, but her husband had betrayed her trust and his vows to her. Was there a murderess beneath that soft exterior?

Drew shook his head, not liking that possibility. Still, he rummaged in his pocket for the telephone number to the Montford home. It wasn’t long before he was being shown into Mrs. Montford’s dainty sitting room.

“Mr. Farthering, how nice of you to come. Do sit down. May I ring for tea?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Montford, but I really must come straight to the point. I want you to tell me about Daniel.”

“Daniel?”

“The day your husband was murdered, where was Daniel?”

“I told the police already. He was in his bedroom. He had some sort of paper he had to write for his literature class. Why do you ask?”

Drew took the chair she had offered and sat for a moment studying her face. She’d already lost her husband. He couldn’t
blame her for wanting to protect her son. Even so, there was nothing for it now but the absolute truth.

“Is there any possibility, any possibility at all, that he may have left his room sometime during that day?”

“Left it? No. Why would he have left it? He was there all day. He told me he was.”

“But do you know for certain?”

“I wasn’t in there with him, no, but I never saw him leave. Why? What’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened, not for certain. It’s just that Daniel is roughly the sort of fellow we think might have killed your husband and the others.”

Mrs. Montford’s dark eyes filled with tears, and she sat shaking her head, her full lips trembling. “No,” she whispered. “No, no.”

“I know this must be very difficult for you, but I must ask. What were relations like between him and your husband? Did they, as a rule, get along well?”

“Have you told the police your suspicions?”

“Not actually suspicions at this point. I wanted to talk to you first.”

She blinked away her tears. “You can’t think he’s responsible. Not Daniel.”

“Were relations between him and his father . . . difficult?”

She looked down at her soft, white hands. “He would never kill anyone. He couldn’t.”

“Did he and Mr. Montford quarrel?”

“Oh, Mr. Farthering.” She looked up, smiling pitifully. “Don’t all fathers and sons have their differences? Daniel loved his father, and Quint doted on him. Of course, a young man learning to make his way in the world doesn’t always agree with what’s laid out for him. Surely, it was no different with you and your own father.”

Drew smiled a little. “My father died when I was twelve. I never really had the chance to get past the hero-worship stage.”

“Daniel . . .” She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Daniel wanted part of the money his grandmother left for him in trust. Quint wouldn’t allow it. He was to have been trustee until Daniel reached twenty-five. They had been rowing over it for weeks.”

“What did he want the money for?”

“I don’t know. He’d only say the money was his and he should have at least some of it.”

“Tell me what you did when the police told you Mr. Montford had been killed.”

“I . . . I couldn’t believe it. I suppose I just sat here, where I am now, for a long time. Then I thought I’d better tell Daniel.”

“Where was he then?”

“I went up to his room, but when I didn’t find him there, I rang for Meadows, our butler. He said he’d just seen Daniel in the kitchen and sent him up to me.”

“Does Daniel usually spend his time with the staff?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“Did he say why he was there that day?”

She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I didn’t even think about it. How could I when I’d just been told my husband had been murdered?”

“Did you ever ask about it later?”

“No. I still don’t think it means anything. So he was in the kitchen. What harm could that be?”

“Who else was there when he was?”

“I don’t know. Cook, I suppose. The scullery maid. Whoever else is usually there.”

He stood up. “May I have your permission to ask Meadows and Cook myself?”

“I suppose,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “If you like. I’ll ring for Meadows.”

“Actually, if you don’t think it too irregular of me, I’d much rather go down to the kitchen. Alone, if you don’t mind.”

She lifted her chin, and her eyes were firmly on his. “What is it you don’t want me to know?”

“Mrs. Montford, I assure you—”

“Mr. Farthering, my husband has been murdered. There’s scarcely anything I could hear that would be worse, unless it’s that my only child is the one who killed him.”

“We don’t by any means know that.”

“But you think it. Why else would you be asking?”

What a wretched little mess in which to be mired. “To be perfectly honest, I hope I can rule him out. Wouldn’t you want to know positively?”

She closed her eyes and seemed to sink into herself a little bit. Then she nodded. “If you go out this door and turn to your left and then, at the end of the hallway, go through the door and down the stairs, you’ll find the kitchen on your right. If Meadows isn’t down there, have Cook send for him.”

“Thank you.”

When he saw that she was not going to speak or even look at him again, he made a slight bow and turned to go.

“Before I forget, ma’am, I have a message for you.”

She lifted her eyes. “A message?”

“From the, uh, young woman in question. She very much wants you to know that your husband had no feelings for her whatsoever. It’s quite important to her that you understand that.”

Mrs. Montford gave him a triumphant little smile and said no more.

M
adge, sir. Madge Wheaton.”

Drew smiled at the sturdy little woman, glad to know she had an actual name. Something besides Cook. She could have been anywhere from fifty to seventy, judging by her round, shiny red face and the single strand of iron-gray hair that had escaped her cap and the severe knot at the back of her head. Her beefy arms and gnarled hands told of years of toil, but her jet-black eyes were merry for all that.

“And you’ve been here with the Montfords how long?”

“More than fifteen years, sir. Mr. Daniel hadn’t even begun school, as I remember, and now look at the lamb. Oh, will you sit down, sir, beg pardon for not asking sooner? And will you have some tea?”

“Thank you. That would be very nice.”

She began bustling about with the kettle and cups while he sat down at a table dominated by a huge bowl of well-scrubbed carrots and another of peeled potatoes ready for the pot. Like everything else in the kitchen, they were immaculate and appetizing,
and he couldn’t help just a touch of covetousness for whatever she would be serving at supper that night. The simmering smells were already making him salivate.

“Lemon or cream, sir?”

“Honey, if you have it.”

That made her grin, a great showing of near-toothless gums. “Oh, lumme, sir, that’s how my own father always took it. And Mum claimed it made him the sweetest man in all Christendom.”

He gave her a smile in return. “I’ll have to tell that to my young lady. Perhaps it will convince her there’s hope for me after all.”

“Oh, do, sir.” She brought him a porcelain cup painted with violets and filled with strong tea. “She might well do worse in this bad world.”

He nodded. “You don’t know how many times I’ve told her just that.”

She brought some shortbread on a plate that was of a set with the cup. “I made this for Mr. Daniel, but I don’t reckon he’ll mind if you have a bit. Fresh today.”

“Oh, lovely. I suppose he must be a great favorite of yours, Mr. Daniel.”

She grinned again. “I’ve cooked for a few houses in my time, and I can tell you plain, sir, I can’t say as all of them was pleasant places, but this was never anything but. And, God love him, Mr. Daniel was always a joy to have round, laughing and playing in the kitchen garden and then coming in begging sweets and all.”

Drew took a bite of the shortbread. “Very good.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, does he still? Beg sweets?”

“No, not so much these days. I suppose he feels as he must be a grown-up gentleman now and put the childish things back of
himself. Of course, I send something up to his room now and again. He likes that, I know.”

“But he doesn’t usually come down?”

“Not often. Not anymore. Just now and again.” She picked up a bowl that contained some sort of batter and started stirring. “You don’t mind if I carry on, sir? I do have the supper to prepare.”

“By all means.”

He pulled out a chair for her, and she dropped down into it with a grateful sigh. “My feet do sometimes give me trouble. It’s the standing that does it, day in and day out.”

“I can see how it would. So Mr. Daniel doesn’t come to the kitchen much? Do you remember when the last time was that he did?”

She leaned her spoon against the edge of the bowl, and the twinkle left her eyes. “I do. It was the day Mr. Montford was killed. I was making currant buns for tea, sitting just here and stirring, like I am now, and Mr. Daniel came in behind me.”

“And you had your back to the door, as you do now.”

“I did. He near scared me to death.”

“Which door did he come in by?”

“The same one you did, I reckon, but I didn’t see him come in.”

“So he might have come in from the garden, and you wouldn’t have known the difference.”

“No, sir, I suppose I wouldn’t have. Though I don’t see how that signifies.” She looked into her bowl, considering. “He could have been in the garden. I have to say he doesn’t much go out there anymore, either. Not since he was a little fellow and kept rabbits.”

“What did he want that day?”

“Bless him, he’d been up in his room doing his studies and wanted something to tide him over until tea. I told him tea wasn’t that far off, but he wheedled some cake from me before time. You were a boy once, sir, and not too very long ago, I’d wager. You know how hard it is keeping the young ones filled up. Then Mr. Meadows came in to fetch him about his father.”

“What did Meadows say to him? Did he tell him his father was dead?”

“Oh, no, sir. Just said the missus wanted him to come up to her sitting room. That was all he said, and that’s what Mr. Daniel did. Us belowstairs didn’t hear what had happened to Mr. Montford until after.”

“I see. And where can I find Meadows now? Mrs. Montford is a bit upset at the moment, but she said you’d know where to find him.”

“I’ll just go and fetch him for you, sir.” She set the bowl on the table and began to struggle to her feet, but Drew stopped her and stood up himself.

“Don’t trouble yourself. If you’ll just direct me to where he is, I’ll see to things from there.”

“I believe he’s up in the master’s bedroom with Mr. Carstairs, he was the master’s valet. They’re packing up his clothes. The missus, she didn’t want him to at first, but now she’s resigned to it, poor lady.” She took up the bowl and then set it down again. “There’s not something wrong, is there, sir?”

“Nothing to worry over. Just sorting a few things out.”

“You did say you weren’t with the police?”

“That’s right. I’m just making some inquiries. You must have heard that Mr. Montford was not the only one killed as he was. We’ll all sleep better for finding out who’s been doing these murders and why, don’t you think?”

She gave him a nod and a weak smile.

“Now, if you’ll just direct me to Mr. Montford’s bedroom . . .”

“Madam said you wished to speak to me, sir.”

Drew smiled at the portly man standing in the doorway.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Meadows.”

“Yes, sir. May I help in any way?”

Drew sat down again and gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of the table. After a brief hesitation, the butler also sat.

“Mrs. Wheaton and I were just talking about when Mr. Montford was killed. Do you remember much about that day?”

“Certainly, sir. It’s not a day that we in this house are likely to forget.”

“Tell me what happened when Mrs. Montford found out about her husband.”

“Two gentlemen from the police came to tell her and then left. She rang for me from Mr. Daniel’s room all in a state. I called for Lily, her maid, and got her to go lie down for a bit until I could find him.”

“And did you find him?”

“He was down here, sir, eating cake and talking to Cook. I sent him straight up to his mother.”

“Do you know where he’d been before that?”

“No, sir. His own man, Pole, looks after Mr. Daniel as a rule, so I don’t generally know what his schedule is unless it affects the household. Mrs. Montford had given me to understand that he was in his room studying that day.”

“I see. And did you happen to see him or speak to him at all? Before you came to fetch him, I mean.”

“No, sir. As I said, I didn’t generally—”

“I thought I told you to stay out of things.”

Drew turned to see Daniel Montford in the doorway that led out to the garden, eyes blazing and hands balled into fists. It wasn’t a pleasant way to begin a conversation.

Drew stood up once again. “Your mother was gracious enough to allow me to speak to the staff for a moment. I hope it hasn’t caused you any inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?” Daniel cursed at him. “I told you if you didn’t leave us alone, I’d kill you.”

Mrs. Wheaton leaped to her feet, quivering and wadding her apron in her hands. “Mr. Daniel, Mr. Daniel . . .”

“No cause for alarm. I’ve finished.” Drew winked at her and picked up his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Montford, I’ll see myself out.”

Daniel stepped back, ostensibly to let him pass through to the garden, but just as Drew stepped onto the narrow brick path, the young man stopped him. Drew turned, glanced at the hand on his arm, and gave Montford a cool smile. “This is such a pleasant garden. We wouldn’t want to have it mussed up, now, would we?”

“For the last time, Farthering, leave us alone and keep your nose out of our business.”

Still smiling, Drew shrugged free of his grasp and put on his hat. “Please say farewell for me to your mother.”

Montford raised his fist and then found the motion of his arm abruptly halted.

“That would be ill-advised, young man.”

“Ah, Chief Inspector Birdsong, and you’ve brought along a London officer.” Drew’s smile broadened. “Who says the police are never available when needed?”

“We came to have a chat with young Mr. Montford here.”

Montford jerked his wrist out of Birdsong’s hand with another curse, and the chief inspector shook his head in reproof.

“Temper, temper.”

“This man is trespassing.” Montford’s voice was petulant, and Drew wouldn’t have been surprised to see him stamp his foot. “I want him removed immediately.”

“Oh, dear. Is that right, Mr. Farthering? Have you entered private property without invitation?”

“Merely a misunderstanding, Chief Inspector.” Drew removed his hat once again. “I’m sure Mr. Montford here was unaware that I was asked in by the charming lady of the house.”

Montford’s face grew red. “He’s been annoying my mother ever since my father was killed, and I want you lot to do something about it. I’ll file a complaint if need be.”

“Daniel!” Mrs. Montford squeezed through past a distraught Mrs. Wheaton and took her son’s arm. “Daniel, this has got to stop this instant.”

“Good afternoon, madam.” Birdsong removed his rumpled hat, then nudged the plainclothesman with him who then removed his own.

Mrs. Montford managed a gracious nod. “I’m so sorry, Inspector. As you can imagine, things have been quite difficult since my husband passed away.”

“Yes, madam, I can understand that.”

Daniel Montford drew himself up stiffly. “Mother, I want you to go into the house. I’ll see to this.”

“No, Daniel, I want
you
to go into the house.”

“Mother, I—”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that just at the moment, madam.” Birdsong cleared his throat. “Mr. Montford, I’ll have to ask you to come along with us now.”

Daniel made a squawk of protest, and his mother clung more tightly to his arm.

“Why?” she demanded. “Are you arresting him?”

“Don’t upset yourself, madam. We only want to ask him a few questions. Making sure we have all our facts in proper order.”

“Couldn’t you do that here?”

“This way is best. We’ll be able to sort everything out without any distractions.”

Mrs. Montford lifted her chin. “Do you have some new development about my husband’s murder?”

“Your son was seen in Winchester that day. He was seen at lunchtime at a restaurant round the corner from the Empire Hotel, just before Mr. Montford was killed. And a cabman remembers later picking him up at the corner of Jewry and St. George’s, driving him about and then taking him back to the train station.”

Birdsong drew the young man away from his mother.

Daniel could only shake his head, his eyes wide and frantic. “It’s not what you think. Mother, you can’t let them do this. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You told me you were in your room. You said you were there all day.” Mrs. Montford started trembling, and Drew caught her elbow to steady her.

“Please, come inside, ma’am,” Drew murmured. “The chief inspector will see to things.”

She drew herself up straighter and patted her face with the lace handkerchief from her sleeve. “No, I’m all right. Daniel, you go with them and tell them everything. Whatever it is, you tell them.” She caught his hand, pulled him close and kissed his cheek, then stepped back. “Go along now.”

“If you have a family solicitor, madam, you may wish to send him round to the station.”

She gave the chief inspector an almost imperceptible nod. “Thank you, I will.”

By then the sergeant had the boy halfway down the walk, and with one more pleading look at his mother, Daniel disappeared around the side of the house.

Birdsong cleared his throat. “Very sorry to have upset you, madam. We hope to have an explanation for everything and your son back to you as quickly as is possible.”

Staring into the empty air where her son had been, she again nodded.

Birdsong put his hat back on and then touched the brim of it. “Good afternoon, madam. Mr. Farthering.”

“Come inside, madam,” Mrs. Wheaton blubbered once the chief inspector had gone. “Come inside and sit down.”

“That’s a fine idea,” Drew said, taking the lady’s elbow again and guiding her toward the kitchen door. But before they reached it, she stopped and looked up at him, her brown eyes welling with tears.

“Mrs. Montford, if there’s anything I can—”

Her palm cracked across his mouth, surprising in its force, and then she wilted against him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The words tumbled out of her unchecked, barely audible. Then she pushed away from him and groped blindly toward the door and Mrs. Wheaton.

“Oh, madam . . .”

Supporting each other, the two women went inside.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Meadows asked Drew, maintaining a professional air.

Drew smiled faintly as he wiped the back of his hand across his stinging lips. “Just tell Mrs. Montford that I’m going to go see Mr. Russ and, hopefully, take him to the chief inspector’s office. I doubt they’ll let me in on the questioning, but I’ll do
what I can to find out what’s happening with Daniel. As soon as I know something, I’ll ring up or come by.”

Meadows bowed. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure Mrs. Montford would want to know.”

Drew put on his hat. “I surely hope so.”