Black Ship (16 page)

There was some scurrying about while boots and a rake were procured for the fountain-fishing expedition; then the two detective constables departed, carrying a couple of thermos flasks and flapjacks wrapped in wax paper for the uniformed men. Alec sat down at the kitchen table.

“Darling, you’re not going to have to interrogate the Jessups, are you?” Daisy poured him a cup of tea. “And the Whitcombs and everyone?”

“I sincerely hope not. Initially at least, the others can do it, but if it turns out any of them are involved, then all bets are off.” He helped himself to a flapjack, chewy and still slightly warm from the oven. A large bite effectively stopped his mouth, allowing Daisy to have her say.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. We shan’t dare poke our noses outside the door, Mrs. Dobson.”

“Not to worry, madam,” said the cook-housekeeper, clearing cups and plates and sweeping away crumbs. “You know how it is. There’s some as’ll blame you no matter what, and others that’ll know it’s none of it your fault. That’s how you tell your true friends.”

“Very true. Come to think of it, Alec, you can give the Bennetts the ‘third degree’ with my goodwill. Do you have any reason to think one of the neighbours may be involved?”

“I can’t talk about it here.”

Mrs. Dobson drew herself up, her hands on her hips. “If it’s because I’m here, sir, I take leave to tell you there’s many and many a secret I’ve known that’s never crossed my lips, and I’m sure I never gave you cause—”

“Of course not.” Harassed on every side, Alec tried to sound soothing. “I just meant that at present it’s a matter to be discussed only with my colleagues in the police.”

“Hmm.”

“I suppose you won’t tell us who he is, either,” said Daisy.

“I don’t know his name. If I did, you’re right, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Mackinnon came in. “All settled, sir,” he said cheerfully. “I’m to take my orders from you, and I don’t even have to give my super a report until we’ve made an arrest.”

“Assuming we do. Let’s get going. There’s one good thing about crime on the doorstep, Daisy, I should be home on time for dinner, if not before.”

“
Will you
look at that, madam! Those policemen haven’t left hardly enough flapjacks to be sent up to the nursery.”

“I’ve already eaten more than my share, Mrs. Dobson,” Daisy said guiltily.

“Then I’ll just put what’s left on the tray here for the kiddies and Mrs. Gilpin’s morning coffee and be off about the shopping. It’s to be hoped that butcher hasn’t already sold his best cuts, the master being home for dinner tonight.”

She put on her hat and coat, took up her basket and umbrella, and set off, leaving Daisy once again pondering a way to infiltrate the Jessups’ house. She still wanted to talk to them, though at least she was no longer worried about their safety.

Another cup of tea failed to inspire her. Perhaps a bath would help. Having dressed in a tearing hurry, she had omitted even a lick and a promise earlier.

On her way up the kitchen stairs, she heard the front doorbell ring. As she pushed open the baize door at the top, Elsie opened the front door. Though she couldn’t be seen, Daisy didn’t step out into the passage. She held the door ajar and listened.

A man’s voice asked for Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher.

“He’s left for the Yard,” said Elsie. No
sir
, Daisy noted. “You from the papers?”

“That’s right. You’re a sharp girl, you are.”

“Seeing you got a notebook and a cam’ra, and any copper’d be ashamed to go about looking like a ragbag, it weren’t too difficult.”

“Sharp in mind and sharp in tongue.” The reporter sounded disconcerted. “I bet you wouldn’t mind making a couple of pounds telling me what’s going on in the garden there?”

“Go on, you really think I’d risk losing a place like this for a couple of quid? No, not for ten, not for twenty, no thank you! They treat me proper, and it suits me. So you can just get along with you and—”

“Here, hold on! Don’t be so hasty. What about your missus, eh? I bet she’d like to see her name in the paper, and maybe her face, too.”

“Not likely! Madam’s a real lady, not the sort that’d want to see her picture on every street corner. ‘Sides, she’s not at home.” The parlour maid closed the front door with a brisk thud. “Not at home to the likes of you, anyway!” she added.

Daisy came out of hiding. Elsie turned and saw her.

“Oh, madam, I hope I done right. There was this nasty reporter—”

“I heard every word. You were wonderful, quite perfect. Anyone would think you’d been turning newshounds away from the door for years. I’m afraid you may have to do it again, once word gets around.”

“Now I know what they’re like, I’ll get rid of the next one in half the time. You just watch me!”

Daisy went upstairs and took a bath, which thawed the bits of her still chilled in spite of hot tea and the warmth of the kitchen. She was almost dressed when Elsie tapped on the bedroom door and announced, “Mrs. Jessup’s called, madam. I said I’d see if you’re at home.”

“Yes, I’m at home! Tell her I’ll be down in just a minute. Offer
her a cup of coffee.”
If Mahomet can’t think of an adequate reason to go to the mountain
, she thought,
then let him wait until the mountain comes to him!

She went down a few minutes later, to find Mrs. Maurice Jessup—she had for some reason expected Audrey—standing at the window of the drawing room, gazing out over the garden. It had stopped raining. As Daisy crossed the room, she could see that Ernie Piper had joined Ardmore and Warren. They stood by the fountain, Warren waving the rake like a magic wand, as if he hoped to bring the nymph in the centre to life.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jessup,” said Daisy.

Swinging round, Mrs. Jessup said, “Oh, good morning! I didn’t hear you come in. You gave me quite a start.”

“Isn’t it odd how something one is expecting sometimes startles one more than the unexpected?”

“Yes indeed. Especially when you’re waiting by the telephone for a particular call, and when at last it rings, you jump out of your skin. At least I do.”

“Exactly! Won’t you sit down? Elsie’s bringing coffee, I hope.”

Moving with the studied grace of an actress, Mrs. Jessup sat down on the edge of a chair. After a moment’s hesitation, she shifted back and relaxed. “Mrs. Fletcher, as you have no doubt guessed, we are dying of curiosity about the very unexpected goings-on down in the garden. I’m afraid our Enid has taken quite a pet because her sister refused to talk about it.”

“I sympathise,” Daisy said with a smile. “That’s just how I feel when Alec won’t tell me what’s happening.”

“He won’t? How very irritating men can be. I suppose Audrey will just have to go away wondering.”

“Go away? Where is she off to?”

“Oh, didn’t she tell you? Of course, when the two of you are together, you never need any subject of conversation beyond the children. She’s taking Marilyn and Percy to her sister’s, in Lincolnshire. The visit has been planned for ages, but the exact date was uncertain. You see, Aidan has business
in the North, customers to see and so on. He’s been postponing the trip until Patrick’s return—my younger son, you know. So when we heard from Patrick that he was on his way home, Aidan made arrangements to take the night train last night.”

“And Audrey’s going to her sister’s while Aidan’s away?”

“That’s right. Vivien married a country squire, and he and Aidan simply have nothing in common. Besides, Aidan loves his own children, but you know how men are with other people’s offspring.”

“Better to visit without him.”

“Much better. The taxi will be here any minute to take them to Liverpool Street. Patrick’s going to see them off, to help Audrey cope with children and Nanny and luggage and all at the station. She’s dreading the journey.”

“I’m sure it takes a good deal of coping, even if she wasn’t expecting.”

Mrs. Jessup seized on this remark. “That’s another reason to go right away, while she’s feeling well and not showing yet.”

“I travelled quite a bit while I was pregnant, but I haven’t tried it with the twins yet.”

“It’s a difficult journey anyway, changing trains twice. I just hope they don’t miss any connections.”

“How nice that your Patrick is home to give her a hand at this end at least. When did he—”

Her question was interrupted as Elsie came in with the coffee tray. While dispensing coffee and biscuits—the flapjacks were all gone, but as Mrs. Dobson had said, the biscuits from the tin were perfectly good—Daisy pondered the situation.

Alec would be unhappy to have potential witnesses scattering to all corners of the kingdom, but there wasn’t anything Daisy could do about it. In any case, many of the residents of Constable Circle must have departed about their lawful occasions before the police got things organised out there.

On the other hand, most of them had probably gone no farther than the City, whereas Audrey was bound for the rural
fastnesses of Lincolnshire. Daisy wondered whether she ought to suggest that Audrey wait until she had talked to the police.

Daisy was sure she had only to drop a word in Piper’s ear and he’d stop the taxi leaving, but he might get into trouble for it. Also, it would make Audrey’s journey even more difficult, if not impossible. Imagine having to start all over again tomorrow, getting the children ready for travelling—it didn’t bear thinking of.

If Alec wanted to know why she hadn’t attempted to foil their departure, she’d tell him it was his own fault for not giving her more information.

The unknown Patrick was going only to the station and back, so he would be available for questioning. Daisy wondered exactly what time he had arrived. Not that she knew the time of the murder.

“You must be happy to have your son safe at home again,” she said.

“Yes, I was a little worried, I confess. He’s not been gone so long on his own before, and it’s hard to recognise that he’s an adult now. He’s still my little boy.”

“When did he—”

“Listen!” Mrs. Jessup held up one hand. The chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall were heard. She rose. “I didn’t realise it was so late. They’ll be leaving as soon as the luggage is loaded into the taxicab, and I must be there to say good-bye. Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Fletcher. It was very bad of me to interrupt your morning just for the sake of vulgar curiosity. I know you write in the mornings.”

“Not today.”

“No, I dare say not. Well, vulgar or not, my curiosity remains unslaked.” She moved towards the window and glanced out. “I hope you’ll pass on any account of the police activity out there that you glean from your husband. He surely must give you some sort of explanation!”

“I can’t count on it.” Daisy laughed. “He’s quite capable of
leaving me entirely in ignorance if it suits him. I’ll pop out with you to say good-bye to Audrey and the children.”

“Oh no, don’t do that. It looks to me as if it’s going to pour with rain again any moment. I’ll tell Audrey you sent your best wishes.”

“Please do, and bon voyage.”

Daisy accompanied Mrs. Jessup to the front door. A taxi was just pulling up next door. As the cabbie climbed out, Mrs. Jessup hurried down the steps to the pavement. Both of them started up the Jessups’ steps together.

Daisy would have liked to watch, perhaps to manage a word or two with Audrey. Mrs. Jessup might call it vulgar curiosity, but Daisy had long ago accepted that, like Kipling’s Elephant’s Child, she was cursed with “satiable curtiosity.” She had a hundred questions.

Had her friend really been crying, as the servants reported? If so, what about? Had she quarrelled with Aidan, or was she unhappy because they were to part for an unknown period, or was she merely overtired from preparing for her trip? Pregnancy could be exhausting, too, even right at the beginning. Daisy remembered morning sickness all too clearly.

Where had Patrick been, and exactly what time did he arrive home? Daisy wanted to meet him. What was he like? Adventurous, his mother had said, yet with the patience and coolness to be a good cricketer.

He sounded interesting, more interesting than Aidan. Surely Audrey wasn’t in love with him, was she? It would explain his long absence, her distress coincident with his return, Aidan’s sudden departure, followed by hers…. But Mrs. Jessup would never let Patrick accompany Audrey to Liverpool Street if such were the situation.

What was more, Daisy remembered Audrey saying that once Patrick came home, they could all be comfortable again. That didn’t sound like an illicit passion. No, once again, she realised, she was wandering in the realm of pure speculation.

Any moment, the Jessups would come out and see her standing
there staring. Besides, it was cold on the doorstep, though no sign of impending rain was apparent.

She went in, pausing on the threshold for one last backward glance. The sun gleamed palely through thinning clouds.

The twins should go out for an airing before it disappeared again. All nannies agreed on the health-giving effects of fresh air on children. Nana ought to go out, too. If Daisy managed to get Mrs. Gilpin to hurry, they could all take a walk before either the rain or Alec returned. In the latter case, she might get a chance to talk to Ernie Piper.

Her timing was perfect. As the group set out towards the path to the Heath, Ernie backed out of the bushes, took off his hat, and shook the drips from it. It was natural for Daisy to wave the others onwards while she stopped to speak to him.

“Good morning, Mr. Piper. Any luck?”

“Morning, Mrs. Fletcher.” He paused to respond to Nana’s rapturous greeting. They were old friends. “
I
haven’t found anything, and I expect Ardmore or Warren would’ve shouted if they had.”

“What exactly are you looking for? ‘A weapon’ is a bit vague.”

“That’s what we don’t know, Mrs. Fletcher,” said DC Warren, joining them. His face, eyebrowless and scorched red, was gloomy. He had indeed been struck pink, Daisy thought. It was lucky he hadn’t had a moustache. He would have got flames up his nose, assuredly a horribly painful experience. “Could be a stick or a stone or some weird African knobkerrie like in the detective stories.”