01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (18 page)

‘So you don’t think he’s too upset by the news?’

‘It’s not really that, Inspector. It’s rather hard to explain. I suppose
it’s more that he and my sister-in-law led rather separate lives. I’m not
saying that they’d fallen out, so much as they just had completely different
interests and didn’t really see a lot of each other except at meal times.’

The inspector looked thoughtful as he digested this information and he
saw Lane’s pen pause for a moment before the sergeant scribbled hurriedly, as
if he was afraid that if he stopped writing for even a moment he would miss
some vital piece of information before it evaporated. Before Deacon could ask
any further questions of Sir William, Stafford appeared in front of his master
as if he were some summoned genie, and the inspector marvelled at how a man of
more than medium build like the butler could move so effortlessly and
noiselessly in an old creaking house such as Ashgrove.

‘Excuse me, sir, I am very sorry to interrupt, but if I may have a word
with you in private a moment.’ Sir William looked about to protest. ‘It is of
the upmost importance, sir,’ said Stafford quickly, anticipating a refusal,
‘otherwise, of course, I wouldn’t have troubled you.’

‘Go ahead, Sir William,’ urged the inspector, ‘I’d like a quick word with
my sergeant anyway.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, Inspector.’ Sir William looked hesitant. ‘Can’t
think what it can be, but my butler’s not a man to make a fuss about nothing.
I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘Well, what is it, Stafford?’ asked Sir William irritably, following his
butler into the hall. ‘I take it, it
is
important. Not the done thing at
all, you know, to take me away from the police when they’re interviewing me.
It’s a man’s duty to help them, you know, and God knows we want this mess cleared
up as quickly as possible.’

‘Naturally, sir, but what I have to say I thought you’d like to hear
first, before we inform the police. If I may suggest, sir, that we go into the
drawing room, where we can talk privately, I don’t think it’s in use now.’

‘Good God, man, what’s with all this cloak and dagger stuff? It’s not
some game we’re playing, you know, Lady Belvedere is dead and ….’ He broke off
as he caught sight of Edith Torrington looking over the banisters at him from
the landing above. There was a desperate look on her face.

‘Edith, I … Run along, Stafford, go to your parlour and wait for me, I’ll
be along in a minute.’

‘But, sir …’Stafford began to protest.

‘Go along, man, I’ll be with you shortly. I must speak with Mrs
Torrington a minute.’

As soon as Stafford had departed, Sir William was up the stairs at a pace
hardly to be expected in a man half his age. He seized Edith’s hands and
dragged her downstairs and into the empty drawing room, being careful to close
the door behind him, so that they could not be overheard.

‘Edith, what have you done? You did it, didn’t you, after all I said, you
went ahead and did it.’

‘William, I couldn’t help myself. She was evil, you know she was. She
destroyed our happiness, I couldn’t let her get away with it. You don’t know
how it feels to keep a secret such as I have all these years, afraid to tell
anyone; afraid to tell my own husband. All my life has been a pretence one way
or another, trying to pretend I was what I wasn’t. And then she destroyed my
one chance of happiness. It eats away at one, you know, a pain like mine, until
you’re half dead. I have felt a dreadful numbness all these years. I didn’t
think anything could ever hurt me again and when I found out the Belvederes
were here, and I knew I had an opportunity, my only chance to ….’ She broke off
and sobbed uncontrollably. ‘Oh, what have I done, William. I wanted to hurt
her, of course I did, but I never meant for this to happen, you must believe
me. I just wanted to take away the happiness that she had taken away from me.
But I never thought for a moment that it would end like this, you must believe
me, I never imagined ...’

‘Pull yourself together, Edith, and quickly. We haven’t much time to
decide what to do. We’ve got to think.’

 ‘I’ve already thought, William. I’ve done nothing but think since
it happened. I am going to go to the police and hand myself in. I’m going to
tell them that I did it, I’m going to confess.’

‘You’re going to do no such thing, Edith. Enough lives have been ruined
by that woman. She’s got justice although the law won’t see it that way, of
course. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the police don’t
find out the truth. I’ve already put the wheels in motion, told the police a
cock and bull story about how it must have been a poacher who shot her by
mistake and is too frightened to come forward. Oh, Edith,’ he clasped her to
him for a moment. ‘I feared as much, you know, that something would happen, but
never this, no not this! If only I had managed to stop you, to convince you not
to do it.’

‘I’m sorry, William, I’ve let you down, I know.’ She looked up into his
strong, kindly face and stroked his cheek. ‘You’ll never be able to forgive me
for what I have done, I know that. I don’t expect you to, I don’t deserve it.
But I don’t want you to become embroiled in all this. It would break Connie’s
heart if she found out the truth.’

‘Nonsense, I’ve always been here for you, Edith, you know that, and I
always will be, whatever happens.’

‘Oh, William, you are too good to me, you always were.’ Edith
disentangled herself from him. ‘But do you honestly think the police will
believe your story about the poacher?’

‘Well, I’ve told it to the inspector. A young fellow, but pretty astute
I’d say, from Scotland Yard, more’s the pity. A local chap might have swallowed
the story better, whereas this chap, Deacon I think he said his name was, he
looked pretty sceptical when I told him my theory. Still, I hardly think he can
prove anything to the contrary, I can’t imagine any of us have watertight
alibis, so he’ll have to go with it. He’s in an awfully difficult position, you
know, most of his suspects being peers of the realm, let’s hope he won’t know
how to deal with it. I’ve just got to make sure that they don’t arrest poor
Archie Cutter, the fellow must have been carrying a gun if he was doing in the
woods what I think he was doing.’ He took her firmly by the shoulders and
looked her in the eyes. ‘Edith, promise me you won’t do anything rash. Don’t go
confessing. You must give me time to think what to do. Now, I’ve got to go,
Stafford wants to talk to me urgently about something, damn the man, although
at least it did give me the opportunity to speak to you before the police
interviewed you. But I must go, he probably already thinks it a little odd that
I wanted to stop and speak to you when he had something of importance to tell
me. Stay here a couple of moments after I’ve gone before you leave, and then it
won’t be obvious to anyone except Stafford that we’ve been together and he
won’t say anything.’

He made his way to the door but just before he opened it he turned, and
looked back at her earnestly.

‘Promise me Edith, whatever happens you won’t say anything to the police,
you’ll leave it to me to sort out, promise me.’    

Edith swallowed and said nothing, but she did smile briefly and which Sir
William seemed to find a satisfactory response for he turned and left, shutting
the door noiselessly behind him. Had he not been in such a hurry to go and see
Stafford, he might have realised that Edith had crossed two fingers of the hand
she held unseen behind her back, and he might not have been so content with her
reply.

‘Do come in, Miss Simpson.’ Detective Inspector Deacon held open the
library door and beckoned Rose towards the leather Chesterfield sofa.

The library, for once, was empty of Lord Belvedere, who had been
persuaded to leave and take up residence instead in Sir William’s study. The
former room was considerably larger than the latter, and the policemen felt it
made a more appropriate interview room.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Deacon from Scotland Yard. Do take a seat. I
appreciate that this must all have been a dreadful shock for you and you
probably don’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it, but I’m afraid
that I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.’

Rose looked around feeling rather disorientated. She had not been in the
library before and the man before her was a stranger. There was something in
his manner however that put her at her ease, as if he was used to dealing with
people in her condition, which she supposed he was, given his occupation.

She caught sight then of Sergeant Lane, who was hovering behind the
settee. Rose realised, even in her befuddled state, that he had positioned his
chair in such a way that when she was seated he would be quite hidden from
view. To begin with during the interview, she imagined him scribbling down her
every word but later, as the interview progressed, she almost forgot that he
was there.

‘I’d like you to tell me in your own words exactly what happened, Miss
Simpson. Take your time. Perhaps we could start with how you came to be a guest
here this weekend. I understand from Sir William that you’re a friend of Lady
Lavinia’s and that it was she that invited you down to come and visit her aunt
and uncle?’

‘Yes, I work in the dress shop with her. I expect Sir William’s told you
all about that, the bet she had with her brother?’ Deacon nodded. ‘She and I
got on well together, became friends, and so she invited me to come and stay for
the weekend at Ashgrove; she sees it as her second home.’

‘I see. And what about the other guests, were you expecting them to be
staying here too?’

‘Oh no, except for Mrs Torrington, that is, we knew she’d be here.’

‘Right, before I ask you anything else, I’d like you to tell me in your
own words about today, leading up to Lady Belvedere’s death. Firstly, when did
you arrange to go on this walk together?’

‘Lady Belvedere told me last night after dinner that she would like me to
come for a walk with her this morning.’

‘I see. So you and Lady Belvedere got on well, then?’

‘No,’ admitted Rose looking, to Deacon’s mind, uneasy, ‘not exactly.’

‘So why then would she ask you to go for a walk with her?’

‘To warn me off, Inspector. She thought I had designs on her son.’

‘And do you?’ Rose averted her gaze seeming suddenly to find the pattern
on the cushion immensely interesting; she did not
answer.      

‘Who else knew you were going on a walk with the countess this morning?’
asked Deacon, deciding not to press the matter.

‘I’m not sure, possibly everyone for all I know. You see Lady Belvedere
asked, no it would be more accurate to say commanded me, in rather a loud
voice. I thought at the time that she did it deliberately, to try and humiliate
me.’

‘So you went on the walk and ended up in the woods?’

‘Yes, she wanted to make sure we weren’t overheard,’ said Rose looking
up. ‘If you must know, she wanted me to pack my things and leave immediately. I
refused to, and she didn’t take my refusal very well.

‘I see,’ said the inspector, thoughtfully, ‘so I take it your voices were
probably raised at this point?’

‘Yes.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘I’m afraid we were both rather rude to each other, and very angry. But
you see, neither of us was prepared to back down and the countess is ... was
... very used to always getting her own way. Then there was this silence,’ Rose
shivered, ‘I can hardly describe it, it was so eerie and quiet, you really
could have heard a pin drop. And then a twig snapped. We both heard it, but I
thought nothing of it at the time, I mean it’s the sort of thing that you hear
in a wood, isn’t it?’ 

‘It is,’ agreed the inspector, ‘and then what happened?’

‘She … she was shot, oh, it was so awful,’ Rose covered her face with her
hands. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind. One minute she was there glaring at me,
and the next she was lying on the ground, dead, covered in blood. Oh, I can’t
bear to think about it, but I can’t get the image out of my head, I –.’

‘Did you see who shot Lady Belvedere, Miss Simpson?’ Deacon interrupted,
sharply.

‘No, of course not, otherwise I would have told you straightaway. I had
my back to whoever it was, I didn’t see a thing. I wish now, of course, that
I’d turned around, I wish I’d seen –.’

‘Perhaps it’s just as well you didn’t, Miss Simpson, otherwise you might
not be here now.’

Rose was silent, taking in the enormity of the meaning of what he was
saying; she began to shake.

‘Sir William thinks a poacher shot the countess by mistake.’ The inspector
watched her closely.

‘Does he?’ Rose sounded surprised.

‘Yes, but you don’t think so, do you, Miss Simpson?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Lady Belvedere saw who pulled the trigger. I’ll never forget the look on
her face. She knew what he was going to do before he shot her. It was
deliberate, I’d swear it, and there’s something else,’ Rose’s voice had fallen
to a whisper.

‘And what’s that?’ Deacon asked her sharply. Even Sergeant Lane seemed to
be waiting for her reply, his pen poised above the page waiting to scribble
down her answer.

‘Lady Belvedere knew her killer, Inspector, I’m sure she knew whoever it
was that killed her.’

‘Seems a nice young lady, that, sir,’  said Sergeant Lane of Rose, as
he took the opportunity to get up and stretch his legs and flex the fingers of
his writing hand before the next interviewee was shown in.

‘Yes, she seems to be,’ said the inspector, not sounding wholly
convinced. ‘But she had a clear motive for wanting rid of the countess, she
admitted as much herself. And from what we’ve heard about Lady Belvedere, she
wasn’t the sort of woman to stand back and allow her son to marry someone she
didn’t approve of. Still, it must have been a very nasty experience for the
poor girl, having someone shot dead in front of her and being out there all by
herself in the wood.’

‘Do I take it, sir, that you are treating this as a murder investigation
rather than as a tragic accident?’

‘I am, Lane. I don’t buy in to that poacher story of Sir William’s for a
minute and neither, if I’m not mistaken, does the gentleman himself. I don’t
blame him, of course, wanting it to be an accident, I would myself if I was in
his shoes; the alternative will be jolly unpleasant for him and his wife. But
there it is, Sergeant. There is no way that it could have been a poacher, even
if Miss Simpson had not said what she did about Lady Belvedere recognising her
killer.’

‘I’m not sure I understand your reasoning, sir,’ said the sergeant,
looking slightly confused.

‘Miss Simpson admitted that she and the countess were speaking in raised
voices. They were having an argument, a pretty heated one by the sounds of it,
one or other of them probably ended up shouting likely as not.’

‘I still don’t follow, sir.’

‘Any poacher who happened to be passing in the wood at the time would
surely have heard them having their argument long before he actually came
across them. Think, man, if he was out to trap a couple of rabbits and didn’t
want to be caught doing so, the last thing he would have done would be to have
made his way towards where the voices were coming from. No, it stands to reason
that he would have given them a very wide berth and gone off promptly in the
opposite direction. Whoever shot Lady Belvedere killed her deliberately,
Sergeant, mark my words. This was a premeditated act. We’re looking for a cold
blooded murderer.’

There was a moment’s silence as neither man spoke.

‘That’s as may be, sir,’ said the sergeant at last, thinking it over,
‘but I can’t see Sir William giving up on his theory about a poacher easily.’

‘No, you’re right, he’ll cling to that notion for all it’s worth. He’s
probably already convinced everyone staying in the house that is what happened,
the most palatable explanation by far, mores the pity, because likely as not it
will mean that they won’t be very co-operative or inclined to answer lots of
questions if they think it was just a very tragic accident.’ The inspector
paced up and down the room deep in thought. ‘Well, there’s only one thing for
it, Lane.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘We need to make sure that we find the murder weapon, and sooner rather
than later. We need to knock this poacher nonsense on the head once and for
all. I have a feeling that we won’t get anywhere with this case until we manage
to convince them all that this was indeed a murder.’

‘How are you feeling now, my dear?’ Edith tucked the blanket more closely
around Rose’s shoulders and handed her the half full glass of brandy that Sir
William had poured for her an hour or so ago, but which Rose had not felt up to
finishing. On leaving the library and her interview with the policemen, she had
returned to Edith’s room not knowing where else to go, aware only that she did
not wish to be alone and left with her own thoughts lest the image of Lady
Belvedere’s blood stained body should return unbidden.

‘Much better, thank you’, Rose gave a feeble smile. ‘I’m glad I’ve got my
interview with the police over and done with, although I expect they’ll want to
speak to me again because they didn’t ask me very many questions. You’ve all
been very kind. I’m sorry to have put you to so much trouble, nursemaiding me,
so to speak. It was the shock you see.’ She took a large gulp of the brandy and
almost choked.

‘There, there, of course it was, my dear. Now why don’t I just take that
glass from you while you lie down on the bed and try to get some rest? You’ll
feel much better when you wake up, I’m sure.’

‘No, no, I couldn’t possibly, Edith. I must go and see Lavinia, has ….
has she been told about … about –?’

‘Yes, yes don’t fret,’ Edith patted her arm gently, ‘Constance’s with her
now, they’re comforting one another.’

‘And … and Cedric?’ asked Rose hesitatingly, blushing in spite of
everything.

‘I think he’s shut himself up in his room. He wanted to be alone at first
when he heard the news, but I think his father’s with him now, just as it
should be. Don’t worry, he’ll be alright, you’ll see.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Rose, not totally convinced. She wondered how
anyone could ever be alright again when one of their parents had been so
brutally murdered. ‘It’s just so awful. How can such a dreadful thing have
happened? It’s like some awful nightmare. I keep imagining that I’ll wake up
and find that it’s all been a bad dream. But it isn’t, is it?’ She could hear
her voice beginning to break. ‘I just want everything to go back to the way it
was before this all happened.’

‘I know it all seems awful now and that you feel you’ll never be able to
get over it, but you will, my dear, I assure you,’ Edith said with surprising
conviction. ‘You’re still so very young and you’ve your whole life in front of
you. Now, you mustn’t think about it anymore, Rose, do you hear me?’ Edith sat
on the bed and took the girl’s hands in her own cool ones. ‘Promise me that
you’ll try and blot it out of your mind and forget all about it.’ She lifted a
hand to gently remove a strand of hair from Rose’s face and there was such an
earnestness and sincerity in her manner and words that Rose was touched and her
heart went out to this woman who had herself endured so much heartache and yet
was striving to comfort her.

‘I’ll try later, I promise, to do exactly what you say, but right now the
police want me to try and remember as much as I can about what happened. They’ll
want me to try to recall every single detail of what I might have seen or heard
because they think it’ll help them to identify who killed Lady Belvedere.’

‘But you won’t be able to help them, will you, my dear? You said that you
didn’t see anything, nothing at all, that’s right, isn’t it?’ The voice that
had been so kind, so soothing a moment before, now contained a sudden note of
alarm that had not been there before. Rose opened her eyes wide, but Edith’s
face looked as sweet and caring as it had before. Perhaps she had just imagined
the change in her tone. It was such a strange day after all, a day when
anything might happen. 

‘Yes, it all happened so quickly and I wasn’t looking the right way. I
had my back to the … the person that … I was looking at Lady Belvedere at the
time it all happened. She was so very angry with me and I with her, you see,
and then suddenly the expression on her face changed and she looked afraid. And
before I could …..’ She broke off at the recollection; it was a moment or two
before she could continue. ‘She saw him, she saw the person who killed her
before he pulled the trigger. And she knew what he was going to do before he
did it. The look on her face frightened me so much. It was as if she’d seen a
ghost. I went forward to grab her hand to see what was wrong. But I shouldn’t
have, should I? I should have turned around to see what she was staring at, who
she was staring at, what had made her so afraid.’ Rose began to cry
hysterically. ‘I could have saved her, I should have turned around.’

‘It’s probably just as well you didn’t, Rose’, said Edith, gently again.

‘I know, that’s what the police said. That if I had turned around, I’d
probably have been killed too, because I’d have seen him too.’

‘But you didn’t see who it was, did you, Rose? You can’t say for sure
whether it was a man or woman, can you?’ The urgency in Edith’s voice could not
be mistaken now. And then as if to avoid all doubt she bent forward and clasped
Rose’s shoulders roughly so that it made the girl wince. ‘You didn’t see who it
did it, did you, you didn’t see who killed Lady Belvedere, did you?’ It was
more a statement now rather than a question.

‘No, no, of course I didn’t.’ Rose pulled herself away from the older
woman’s grasp. ‘Don’t you think I’d have told the police if I had? So no, no I
… but, oh no, no!’ She leapt from the bed, a sudden look of horror on her face.
‘But, of course, I’ve just realised what that means. But, no, it can’t do, it’s
too awful …’

‘What is it, what is it?’ Edith was on her feet now too, a look of alarm
on her face.

‘I must talk to the police again, now, please.’ Rose stumbled towards the
bedroom door. Edith barred her way. ‘You’re confused, Rose, you’ve been through
an awful ordeal. Come and lie down. The police can wait. They’ll want to see
the body first and talk more to Sir William. No need to rush to see them,
there’s plenty of time.’

‘No, I’ve got to see them now. I must tell them, it’s important.’ Rose
lurched towards the door. Edith stood firm. The girl stared the woman in the
face and then suddenly, in one fierce movement, pushed her aside. Edith was
taken off guard and slipped and fell against the dressing table. Rose did not
stop to check that she was alright. Instead she tore open the bedroom door and
made a run for it across the landing and down the stairs. Her legs seemed heavy
and slow and she was afraid that she would trip and fall or be overtaken. It
reminded her of dreams she had had as a child where she was running away from
something, but the more she tried to run the more she stood still like a
hamster going round and round on a wheel, never reaching its destination.

She slowed once to look over her shoulder fearfully, afraid that Edith
would be just behind, ready to pounce and drag her back in to the bedroom, but
there was no-one there. The knowledge spurred her on and she did not stop again
until she had reached the library, where she found herself banging on the door
with clenched fists for all she was worth, as if she feared that it was locked
and would never open. It was opened abruptly by a surprised Sergeant Lane, and
before she could stop and think what she was doing or how it must look, she
found that in her relief she had flung herself into his bewildered arms.