01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (21 page)

‘Right, Miss Simpson, please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting,
I hope the constable has been looking after you in my absence,’ Deacon said, closing
the library door behind the sergeant. ‘Now what is it that you wanted to tell
us, I take it it’s pretty important given that you almost broke the door down.’
He smiled, but it did little to mask his concern.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector, now I’ve had an opportunity just to sit here and
think, while you were called out, I feel much calmer, much more myself, and I’m
afraid I may have overreacted a bit. I think I may have made a bit of a fool of
myself in front of Mrs Torrington.’

‘Indeed?’ Deacon raised his eyebrows slightly, looking interested. ‘Well,
suppose we start at the beginning. What is it you wanted to tell me?’

‘Well, and I don’t feel any less worried about this and it sounds a bit
silly when I say it out loud, but…’

‘But?’ Deacon prompted, encouragingly.

‘I don’t think Lady Belvedere was the intended victim, I think I was.’

The constable, who had been taking notes all the while in the sergeant’s
absence, pressed rather too hard on his pencil and the lead broke. Deacon now
looked keenly at Rose, all ears.

‘Suppose you tell me exactly why you think that, Miss Simpson.’

‘Well … I know it sounds awfully melodramatic and of course I might have
got it totally wrong, but, well, I stumbled just as Lady Belvedere was shot.
I’d forgotten all about it, you see, what with the shock of it all, and then I
suddenly remembered while I was upstairs with Edith, trying to rest. I stumbled
and tripped just as the gun went off. It was the look on Lady Belvedere’s face
that made me fall. I’ve never seen anything like it, seen anyone look so
afraid. I suppose I was transfixed, but I put my hand out towards her and, not
looking where I was going and the ground being so littered with twigs and bits
of branches, well, I tripped. And then when I looked up, I couldn’t see her, and
I looked down and there she was ...’ She faltered for a moment at the
recollection but went on valiantly, before the inspector had an opportunity to
interrupt. ‘He must have panicked, mustn’t he? When he realised he’d shot the
wrong person, he must have panicked and run away.’

‘It’s possible,’ agreed Deacon, pondering. ‘Of course, you weren’t facing
the shooter, so we can’t be sure who he was aiming at, but it’s possible that
you were his intended target.’

‘That’s not all, Inspector. What made me really afraid, although I think
now I might have read too much in to it at the time, was that Edith seemed to
be trying to stop me from coming down to see you, she even went so far as to
try and bar my way, but then again, perhaps she was just worried about me. But
she was very anxious to know what I’d seen. It was almost like she was trying
to make me promise that I hadn’t seen who’d killed the countess.’  

‘Interesting. Well, we’ll certainly be having a word with Mrs Torrington.
Now to come back to this idea about you being the intended victim, Miss
Simpson. I’d like to explore that further. Do you have any enemies here in this
house, anyone you could think of who might want to cause you harm?’

‘Enemies, Inspector? Enemies is such a strong word, isn’t it? I hope that
I don’t have any enemies anywhere, let alone in this house. Why, I met most of
the people here only the day before yesterday.’

‘So you can’t think of anyone, Miss Simpson?’

‘Not really. Lady Belvedere obviously wasn’t too fond of me, and Lavinia
and I have had a bit of a falling out, but it’s silly really, I mean it’s over
nothing. She’s my friend. The only other person I can think of, but I’d rather
not say….’

‘Yes, Miss Simpson?’ Deacon looked up and nodded at her encouragingly. ‘I’m
afraid that it’s important that you tell us everything no matter how irrelevant
you may think it is.’         

‘Well, Lord Sneddon made a sort of drunken pass at me on the Friday
night. Fortunately Stafford came to my rescue. But then he did the same thing
last night, although this time I don’t think he had any intention of taking no
for an answer …’ Rose shivered slightly, as she remembered how frightened she
had been.

‘So what happened, Miss Simpson?’ Both policemen looked at her concerned.

‘Cedric ..., Lord Sedgwick saved me.’ As Rose said these words, she
thought how romantic it had been, being saved by the man she loved and for a
moment she was lost in her own thoughts. A discreet cough by the inspector
brought her back to the present. ‘He must have had his suspicions about his
friend,’ she said quickly, ’because he just appeared out of the darkness and
told Lord Sneddon to let me go and then he punched him in the face and told him
to pack his bags and go first thing this morning. Lord Sneddon was very angry
about it and threatened to get his own back.’

‘I see. It sounds as if you had a lucky escape, Miss Simpson,’ said
Deacon. ‘Well, Lord Sneddon’s still here, so we’ll be speaking to him later as
well.’

‘Going back to Lady Belvedere, Miss Simpson, let’s just suppose she was
the intended victim after all. As someone meeting most of the people here for
the first time, I’d like to hear your views as to who might wish the countess
harm. From what I understand, she could be rather a difficult woman.’

‘Yes, Inspector, she was. She was a woman who wanted her own way and was
used to getting it. I don’t think anyone liked her much. Cedric and Lavinia
avoided going back to Sedgwick as much as possible, and even Lady Withers
seemed a bit scared of her. Her own husband kept himself out of her way,
although, if I’m honest he seemed to keep himself out of everyone’s way,
preferring the company of old books to people. And Edith …’

‘Yes. Mrs Torrington?’

‘She told me yesterday that she hated Lady Belvedere. She said something
about the countess having done her some terrible wrong and she didn’t deserve
to live. She said something about being tempted to kill her herself, but I
don’t think she was being serious, Inspector,’ added Rose, hurriedly. ‘At the
time I’m sure I thought she was just saying it for effect, I didn’t think she
actually meant to do it and I don’t now, Inspector,’ she emphasised. ‘It was,
well, just a figure of speech, that’s all.’

‘Indeed. Even so, I’m curious to have a word with our Mrs
Torrington.’ 

‘Well, that’s a turn up for the books,’ Sergeant Lane said, when Deacon
had filled him in on events on his return from the Cutters. ‘Puts a completely
different complexion on things I’d say, sir; looks like the Countess of
Belvedere wasn’t the intended victim after all.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ Inspector Deacon wandered over to the fireplace and picked up
a framed photograph from the mantelpiece, which he studied absentmindedly
before putting it back down again.

‘You don’t sound convinced, sir. But it certainly gives us other
suspects. This Lord Sneddon, for instance, sounds a nasty piece of work.’

‘Yes, Lane, and Miss Simpson went on to say that, during the course of
yesterday afternoon, Lady Belvedere summoned Lord Sedgwick, Lord Sneddon and
Lady Lavinia to her presence individually and that each one looked annoyed or
upset on their return. It would be interesting to know what she said to each;
we’ll have to try and find out, it might give us some more motives.’ Deacon
began to pace the room. ‘But going back to Miss Simpson, we’ve only got her
word that things happened the way she said they did. And remember, she’s in a
very agitated frame of mind at the moment, probably suffering from shock and
who’s to blame her, after what she’s witnessed. One moment she’s having a
heated argument with someone and the next that person is shot dead before her
eyes. No wonder the poor girl’s in the state she’s in. I don’t know what to
make of her claim that Mrs Torrington tried to prevent her from speaking to us.
Did that really happen, or was it imagined on her part? Either way, we need to
keep an eye on her.

‘Now, let’s look at what we do know for sure. Lady Belvedere announces in
a loud voice in the drawing room after dinner last night, when most of the
guests are present, that she would like Miss Simpson to take a walk with her in
the woodland the following morning. She reiterates her request, or command
should I say knowing the type of woman she appears to have been, through her
maid after breakfast this morning. No doubt some of the servants were present,
serving up the dishes and taking away the empty plates and so forth. So the
news, which must have been of interest to all, could and probably did go all
around the servants’ hall.  Then, knowing what servants are like, it probably
got passed on to some of the other guests in the form of servants’ gossip when
they were taken their morning cups of coffee or tea or breakfast in bed. We can
assume then, that everyone in this house could have known that Lady Belvedere
and Miss Simpson would be walking in the woods this morning.’

‘Surely, sir, that backs up what Miss Simpson was saying.’

‘Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions, Lane. It could have gone as
Miss Simpson says. She might have stumbled on a stone or something on the path
and Lady Belvedere might have leant forward to grab her or offer her arm to
prevent Miss Simpson from falling.  However, knowing Lady Belvedere as we
are beginning to, it seems to me more likely as not that she would have left
Miss Simpson to fall and probably been quite happy about it.’

‘It would have been an instinctive reaction, sir, I think, for her to
grab Miss Simpson, even if she didn’t like her one little bit. Even if that
weren’t the case, sir, the murderer could still have been aiming the gun at
Miss Simpson. If she and the Countess of Belvedere were walking side by side or
perhaps had stopped to take in the view, or her ladyship had stopped to stress
some point, and then Miss Simpson had stumbled, couldn’t the murderer, if he
had been aiming at Miss Simpson at that moment, have pulled the trigger and hit
the countess by mistake?’

‘Yes, it’s possible, Lane. But it could just as easily have happened very
differently.  As I’ve already said, we’ve only Miss Simpson’s word for it
that she stumbled. Yes, I know, Lane,’ Inspector Deacon put up his hand as he
saw that his sergeant was about to protest. ‘I agree with you that Miss Simpson
seems a very nice young lady, very well brought up and personable to be sure,
just the sort of lady your mother would like you to marry, no doubt! But what
if she’s not really like that at all? 

‘What about if she’s set her heart on marrying this Cedric fellow? She
could see him as her way out of her current life of relative poverty and
servitude, so to speak. And the only real obstacle to the match is Lady
Belvedere. The earl seems to spend his life shut up with his books and to take
little interest in his wife or children, so he might not have an issue with the
match, we’ll need to check. I’m sure there was much speculation between
everyone as to why the countess wanted to speak with Miss Simpson, but I think
everyone probably was of the view that it was to warn her off, whether it be
her friendship with Lady Belvedere’s daughter or her designs upon her son.’

‘I’m not convinced, sir,’ said Lane. ‘For one thing, Miss Simpson had no
idea that Lord Sedgwick would be here. And would she really have fallen in love
with him and decided to kill his mother all in the space of a couple of days?’

‘Let’s just suppose for a moment that Miss Simpson is the murderer,
Sergeant, and the countess the intended victim. What could be easier than for
Miss Simpson to take a shotgun from Sir William’s gunroom either last thing at
night, when everyone has gone to sleep, or in the early hours of the morning
when the servants are still sleeping? It was a moonlit night and she could have
walked some way along the path until she had come to a convenient clump of
bushes, loaded the gun and hidden it in the undergrowth.  Then all she’s
got to do is remember where she’s hidden it, walk with the countess along the
path, stop and perhaps point to something on the horizon and then while the
countess is busy trying to see what has been pointed out to her, Miss Simpson
darts into the undergrowth, picks up the weapon, aims it at Lady Belvedere,
calls to her so she turns around and then shoots. Then all she’s got to do is
start screaming, wipe the gun clean of fingerprints and hurl it as far away
from her as possible so that it’s not immediately found.  It would be the
work of seconds, a couple of minutes at most.  And it takes a little while
for the Cutters to reach her. Plenty enough time for her to arrange herself in
a kneeling position over the body, sobbing, trying to stem the wound with her
handkerchief. A perfect show of grief for when the Cutters come stumbling onto
the scene.’

‘You really think that’s what happened, sir?’ Inspector Deacon took in
the sad look upon his sergeant’s face.

‘No, Lane, I don’t. All I’m saying is that it could have happened that way
and that we’ve got to keep an open mind.’

‘I bet everyone in this house would like it to be Miss Simpson, sir, she
being an outsider and all and not one of their class.’

‘It’s because it’s better than the alternative.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘That it’s one of them. But we mustn’t forget what Miss Simpson said when
the Cutters found her, about it being all her fault. However, another theory
did just cross my mind, Lane, unlikely though it seems. What if Lady Belvedere
herself arranged for someone to kill Miss Simpson while they were out on their
walk together; it doesn’t seem that out of character, does it? From what we’ve
heard, she was pretty ruthless and determined to get her own way by any means.
Well, what if the person she engaged to do the killing changed their mind and
killed the countess instead, or by mistake because Miss Simpson tripped and
fell at the crucial time? You never know, Sergeant, perhaps the murderer was
murdered!’