01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (27 page)

‘Where were you between half past nine and half past ten this morning, my
lord?’ Deacon asked suddenly.

‘Ah, the fateful hour,’ retorted Lord Sneddon, looking unfazed. ‘Well for
at least fifteen minutes of the time in question I was being lectured at by
Lord Sedgwick. Actually, shouted at would be more accurate a description.’

‘What exactly did Lord Sedgwick say to you?’

‘Oh, something along the lines of his being totally incensed at my
conduct towards Miss Simpson last night, that he no longer considered me to be
a friend, that he wanted me to pack my bags immediately and leave, and that he
would do everything in his power to prevent my marrying his sister, something
along those lines, I think.’

‘I see. Where exactly did this conversation take place? Presumably
neither of you wished to be overheard?’

‘No, indeed not. Cedric practically dragged me out of my room, up the
stairs and onto the next floor. We used one of the empty bedrooms there.
Lavinia and Miss Simpson were the only occupants of that floor and we concluded
that they’d be having breakfast so we’d have the floor to ourselves.’

‘Tell me, did you know that Lady Belvedere intended going for a walk with
Miss Simpson this morning?’

‘Yes, of course. I expect everyone knew. I mean, she announced it loudly
enough last night. I have to admit, I felt a bit sorry for little Miss Simpson.
Not nice being humiliated in public like that.’

‘Lord Sedgwick told us that he didn’t know about the walk.’

‘No, he didn’t, he must have been at the other end of the room, or
something. He didn’t know about the walk
then
.’

‘What do you mean,’ asked Deacon, sharply, ‘he didn’t know about it
then
?’

‘Well he knew about it this morning, because I told him about it while he
was berating me. I suggested that instead of wasting his anger on me, it would
be better spent on his mother who, I had little doubt, was at that very moment
instructing his darling Rose to pack her bags and leave Ashgrove.’

‘You told him that this morning?’

‘Yes, and I’m afraid that I was that annoyed that I let slip what Lady
Belvedere had asked me to do regarding Miss Simpson, you know, so as to prevent
their romance from developing.’

‘And what did Lord Sedgwick do?’ asked Deacon, unable to stop himself
from leaning forward.

‘Why, what any other fellow would have done in his position,’ smirked
Lord Sneddon, clearly enjoying himself. ‘He turned on his heel and fled down
the stairs.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Oh, about a quarter to ten, I should imagine. Plenty of time I expect to
catch them up and undertake the ghastly deed.’ He removed an invisible piece of
fluff from his trousers. ‘And now, Inspector, I think I have answered enough of
your questions, don’t you? Especially as I may have given you the murderer.
Goodbye.’ With that, he got up and left the room, Deacon and Lane still reeling
from what he had just said.

‘He’s an evil whatsit and no mistake,’ said Lane. ‘Do you think he did
it, sir? Lord Sedgwick, I mean, sir, not Lord Sneddon. Although I’d much rather
it was Sneddon.’

‘I hope not, Sergeant, I rather liked
that
young man, although,
like you, I can’t say the same of the one that’s just left. If Lord Sedgwick is
guilty of his mother’s murder then I’m damned if I’m not going to get Lord
Sneddon on a charge of incitement to murder.’

‘I know how you feel, sir. What was worse was that he seemed to be enjoying
it all as if it were all some sort of game.’

‘Well, he was definitely relieved to be able to shift suspicion on to
someone else.’

‘But was Lord Sneddon ever really a suspect, sir?’ enquired Lane. ‘I
can’t see a motive. True, he probably resented being told what to do by Lady
Belvedere, but they both wanted the same thing, didn’t they, for him to marry
Lavinia?’

‘I agree, but you’re forgetting something, Lane.’

Am I? What’s that, sir?’

‘The countess may not have been the intended victim. Miss Simpson might
have been and, if so, our Lord Sneddon had a very good motive for wanting to do
away with her. She turned down his advances, something which he is not used to
if you believe what he says, and she was instead enamoured by his friend. Lord
Sneddon was a man spurned and he does not seem to me the sort of man to take
such a thing lying down. Plus I would imagine that he’s the jealous type. He
probably also felt humiliated by being punched in the face in front of the
girl. And he did after all say that he was going to get his own back. Also, we
only have his word for it that he told Lord Sedgwick what he said to us and at
that particular time. Still, if what he says is true, it would help explain
something that’s been puzzling me.’    

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘Why Lady Lavinia was so eager to accuse her friend.’

‘And why was that, sir?’ asked Lane. ‘Although I thought at the time it
was a particularly mean thing to do particularly to someone like Miss Simpson.’

‘You and Miss Simpson, Lane, you are quite blinkered where she’s
concerned. But to answer your question, Lady Lavinia, I think, was eager to
accuse her friend in order to divert suspicion from her brother. Remember what
Sneddon said. The two men had their argument in one of the empty rooms in the
corridor in which Lady Lavinia and Miss Simpson had their rooms. They assumed
that the two girls would be at breakfast, but we know that that was not the
case. Lady Lavinia was suffering from a headache and so was in her room. Given
that their argument was heated and that they were probably shouting at each
other, it is inconceivable to think that she did not hear at least some bits of
their conversation. She would have been surprised that they had come up there
in the first place, and no doubt was inquisitive to know why. She may or may
not have overheard Sneddon taunting her brother, but she can hardly have failed
to hear Sedgwick fleeing the room and tearing down the stairs.’ The inspector
was getting into his story and began pacing the room. ‘She must have realised that
he had set out to thwart Lady Belvedere’s plan of persuading Miss Simpson to
leave. Later, when she is informed what has happened and the time that the
shooting supposedly took place, she is certain that her brother is the
murderer. She is very close to him and is determined to protect him from the
gallows; the only way she can be certain of doing that is to have someone else
found guilty of the murder.’

‘Mrs Torrington, so sorry to have kept you waiting,’ said Deacon, smiling
at her disarmingly, ‘do take a seat.’

‘There’s no need to apologise, Inspector, I quite understand that you
needed to interview Lady Belvedere’s family first. Such an awful thing to have
happened, I can hardly believe it, I …’ She broke off suddenly to weep into a
handkerchief that she held balled up in her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Inspector, you
must think me very pathetic. I know everyone else has been very strong, except
for Lavinia, of course, but you wouldn’t expect her to be, seeing Marjorie was
her mother. But it’s such a dreadful thing to have happened and such a shock,
it’s not what one expects when one comes to Ashgrove. It’s so peaceful here,
you see, so untouched by anything awful, I always think of it as such a
beautiful place to escape to when times get too tough to bear. It’s as if it’s
not part of the real world. For example, have you ever seen so many servants?
Everyone always complains these days how hard it is to get good servants since
the war, but Ashgrove is simply teeming with them just as it was before the
war. And I don’t believe that Constance was affected at all by the war. She
didn’t lose one member of her family, can you believe it, no nephew, cousin or
anything. I didn’t think that was possible, I thought everyone lost someone,
but not Constance, everything has always gone well for her, well, except for
having a sister like Marjorie, of course, nobody would want that.’

‘What was Lady Belvedere like, Mrs Torrington? At times like this it is
important to build up a picture of the victim. Often as not people are liable
to say what a wonderful person the deceased was, although,’ Deacon added, ‘I
have to confess that in this case they have not. The countess appears to have
been universally disliked.’

‘I think that’s a fairly good summing up,’ said Edith, drying her eyes.
‘It seems awful to say that of someone, doesn’t it, especially when they’ve
just met with such a violent death. But Marjorie really was quite an awful
woman, well, she was when we were younger, and I assume she hadn’t changed much
although people do, so she might have, and I hadn’t seen her until Friday for
years and years.’

‘How long had it been since you had last seen Lady Belvedere, Mrs
Torrington?’

‘Oh, over thirty years, I should say. We were all at school together. I’m
something of the poor relation, Inspector. We’re related to each other very
distantly, but Marjorie and I never kept in touch, not like Constance and I
did, or should I be saying Lady Withers. Oh, it’s all so very complicated,
isn’t it, and I’m not sure that I feel up to all this and…’ The inspector
noticed that her hand had gone almost instinctively to her handbag, which she
opened, put her hand inside and almost instantly withdrew it, an exclamation on
her lips, as if she had received a sharp stab of pain.

‘Mrs Torrington, are you alright?’ Deacon had leapt up from his chair
with concern. Lane stopped his writing and looked up in surprise.

‘Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me, Inspector. Please ignore me. I’d
just forgotten, that’s all.’

‘Forgotten what, Mrs Torrington?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all,’ Edith said evasively, ‘it really doesn’t
matter, Inspector, it isn’t important, please go on with your questions.’ There
was a sudden firmness in Edith’s tone which made the inspector think that,
however much he questioned her about what was in the bag to cause such a
reaction, she would refuse to answer or else be unnecessarily vague.

‘Can you please tell me where you were between half past nine and half
past ten this morning? We’re asking the same question of everyone, Mrs
Torrington.’

‘Oh, I was breakfasting and getting up, I think. I know that I’d just got
downstairs when William told me about Rose being in a state and Lady Belvedere
being shot. He said that the girl was in the servants’ hall but that he’d appreciate
it if I would sit with her, and of course I was more than happy to help. Such a
dreadful thing to happen to a young girl. You think she’ll get over it in time,
don’t you? She seems such a level-headed, sensible kind of woman to me. Now if
it had happened to Lavinia, that would be a totally different case, she’d –.’

‘Excuse me for interrupting you, Mrs Torrington, but can you explain to
me please why Sir William should ask you to sit with Miss Simpson rather than
his wife, she was the hostess after all, and Miss Simpson her
guest.’  

‘You’ve met Constance, Inspector. Do you really think she would have been
any good at being calm and sitting quietly with Miss Simpson? Besides, she
hadn’t yet come down and William was no doubt anxious how she would react to
the news, given that Lady Belvedere was her sister. For all he knew, Constance
could have been very upset. One never knows how she is going to react.
Sometimes she is completely over the top and at other times it is as if
something barely registers. Really she is the most contrary sort of person that
one can imagine. One moment she is vague and absentminded and the next, shrewd
and perceptive.’

‘I see. Tell me, can you think of anyone who might want to cause the
countess harm?’

‘Really, Inspector, it was years since I had last seen Lady Belvedere, so
I really couldn’t tell you. All I will say is that if her character remained
the same as it was when we were girls, well then I think there are probably a
fair number of people who would not weep too much at her death.’

‘What about you, Mrs Torrington, are you one of those people? You were
heard to say how much you hated Lady Belvedere and how she should be dead if
there was any justice in the world. I think you even went so far as to say how
you would quite willingly do the deed yourself, if necessary.’

‘Did I really say all that? How very silly of me. I didn’t mean it, of
course, it’s just something one says, isn’t it?  I’d never do such a
thing, really I can’t think what came over me to say something like that. It’s
not like me at all, really it’s not.’

Deacon could not decide if she was shocked or impressed by her own
behaviour. From what little he had seen of her, it seemed distinctly out of
character. He knew her sort though, had interviewed many such women like her;
she was the neurotic, timid type that wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but if
pushed too far could suddenly snap like a finely coiled spring and the
consequences could be quite devastating. He looked up; Lane was looking at her
keenly, a similar thought having obviously crossed his mind.

‘Miss Simpson said that you were quite adamant. She said that you told
her that the countess had once done you a terrible wrong and that she should
pay for it.’

‘I said that?’ Edith looked scared, Deacon thought, as if she suddenly
realised that she had let all her pent up emotions run away with her and said
too much. 

‘Yes, you did, Mrs Torrington.’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said so quietly that Lane had to bend forward in
his seat to catch her words. ‘Not to Rose ... Miss Simpson, anyway. It was
wrong of me.’

‘What great wrong had Lady Belvedere done you, Mrs Torrington?’ the
inspector asked gently. Such was her manner of vulnerability coupled with
abject misery that he found himself almost tempted to lean towards her, clasp
her hand and try and comfort her.

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Inspector, not to you.’

‘I’m afraid that I must ask that you do, Mrs Torrington, it may have a
bearing on this investigation.’

‘I assure you it doesn’t.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that, if you don’t mind,’ Deacon said, speaking
firmly so that Edith looked up and studied his face, as if seeing him for the
first time.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but I’m not going to tell you.’ She held up her hand
as Deacon tried to protest. ‘It’s no good, Inspector, you won’t make me change
my mind. Even if it means that you arrest me for Lady Belvedere’s murder and
throw me into prison or charge me with whatever.’ She flung her arm in the air
in an act of desperate abandonment and caught the side of an empty teacup and
sent it crashing onto the floor. She leapt up in alarm and looked at the broken
crockery aghast.

‘Sit down, please, Mrs Torrington. Don’t worry about that, there’s no
real harm done. We’ll get one of the maids to clear it up in a moment. Now I
want to ask you another question, one I hope that you’ll oblige me by
answering, this time. Miss Simpson was under the impression that you were keen
to prevent her from speaking to us after she had remembered something about
Lady Belvedere’s shooting. She claimed that you had gone so far as to actually
bar her way and that you seemed overly anxious to know what she’d seen. She
felt you were trying to make her promise that she hadn’t seen who killed the
countess.’

‘That’s nonsense, Inspector, of course I’d want her to tell you anything
that will help you to solve this crime. She was just overwrought, I expect,
hardly surprising after what she’d just witnessed. I think she just got the
wrong end of the stick, that’s all. She’s right in that I did try and encourage
her to lie down and rest a little before she came down to speak with you, but
that’s only because I was worried about her. She’d been through a horrible
ordeal. Really William should have sent for the doctor; it was really too bad
of him, the girl was in clear need of a sedative.’

‘So you totally deny the allegation that you tried to prevent Miss
Simpson from giving evidence to us?’

‘I do.’

‘Tell me, Mrs Torrington. You know, don’t you, where Sir William keeps
his guns?’

‘Of course, in a cabinet in the alcove off his study. William makes a
point of always carrying the key to the cabinet on him. He’s afraid that the
guns will get into the wrong hands.’

‘Well he proved to be right to be afraid, because they did. Someone
forced the lock, took out his shotgun and used it to kill Lady Belvedere.’

‘Oh!’ Edith’s hand shot instinctively to her mouth and she seemed to
recoil. ‘So it really
was
one of us, then? I hoped …’

‘You hoped it was a poacher? No, it was one of you, as you say. Tell me,
can you fire a gun, Mrs Torrington?’

‘Well, yes, that’s to say that I have fired a gun, but it’s years ago now
since I last did; I’m not sure I’d remember how to.’

‘I understand that it’s a bit like riding a bicycle,’ said Deacon, in a
matter of fact tone, ‘once learned, never forgotten. Did you shoot Lady
Belvedere, Mrs Torrington?’

‘I ... no, Inspector, I didn’t.’

‘But you know who did, don’t you, Mrs Torrington?’ The inspector leaned
forward, looking at her earnestly.

‘Yes … at least I think so, but I could be wrong.’

‘I’d like you to tell me who you think it was.’

‘No, Inspector, it’s just based on suspicion, that’s all. I wouldn’t want
to find that I had incriminated an innocent person, it wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Even so, Mrs Torrington, I think you should tell me who you think it is.
We wouldn’t just take your word for it. We’d have to investigate, prove to
ourselves that you were right in order to build a case.’

‘No, Inspector, I’m sorry, I don’t think so. Oh, dear, how awful you must
think me. I seem to be constantly refusing to tell you things or answer your
questions. I don’t mean to be awkward, really I don’t, but I can’t tell you.’

‘If you keep this information to yourself, you might be placing yourself
in danger, have you thought about that, Mrs Torrington?’

‘Yes, and I’m prepared to take the risk, Inspector.’

‘Don’t you want to see justice done, Mrs Torrington?’

‘Justice?’ Edith almost spat out the word. ‘Yes, I want to see justice
done. I don’t want Lady Belvedere’s murderer ever to be caught, that would be
true justice, Inspector.’