Clifton Chronicles 02 - The Sins of the Father (41 page)

‘Why would a Labour peer give a damn if it was me or Giles who inherited the title?’

‘When the press asked him the same question,’ said Lord Harvey, ‘he told them if Giles inherited the title it would be a classic example of class prejudice, and that it was only fair that the docker’s son should be able to put forward his claim.’

‘But that defies logic,’ said Harry, ‘because if I am a docker’s son, then Giles would inherit the title anyway.’

‘Several people wrote to
The Times
making exactly that point,’ said Lord Harvey. ‘However, as we’re so close to a general election, the Home Secretary ducked the issue, and told his noble friend that he would refer the matter to the Lord Chancellor’s office. The Lord Chancellor passed it on to the Law Lords, and seven learned men took their time deliberating and came down by four votes to three. In favour of you, Harry.’

‘But this is madness. Why wasn’t I consulted?’

‘You were unconscious,’ Lord Harvey reminded him, ‘and in any case, they were debating a point of law, not your opinion, so the verdict will stand, unless it’s overturned on appeal in the House of Lords.’

Harry was speechless.

‘So as things stand,’ continued Lord Harvey, ‘you are now
Sir
Harry, and the major shareholder in Barrington Harvey, as well as owner of the Barrington estate and, to quote the original will, all that therein is.’

‘Then I’ll appeal against the Law Lords’ judgment, making it clear that I wish to renounce the title,’ said Harry firmly.

‘That’s the irony,’ said Giles, ‘you can’t. Only I can appeal against the verdict, but I have no intention of doing so unless I have your blessing.’

‘Of course you have my blessing,’ said Harry. ‘But I can think of a far easier solution.’

They all looked at him.

‘I could commit suicide.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Emma, sitting down on the bed beside him. ‘You’ve tried that twice, and look where it got you.’

44

E
MMA BURST INTO
the library clutching a letter. As she rarely interrupted Harry when he was writing, he knew it had to be important. He put down his pen.

‘Sorry, darling,’ she said as she pulled up a chair, ‘but I’ve just had some important news that I had to come across and share with you.’

Harry smiled at the woman he adored. Her idea of important could range from Seb pouring water over the cat, to ‘it’s the Lord Chancellor’s office on the phone and they need to speak to you urgently’. He leaned back in his chair and waited to see which category this would fall into.

‘I’ve just had a letter from Great-aunt Phyllis,’ she said.

‘Whom we all hold in such awe,’ teased Harry.

‘Don’t mock, child,’ said Emma. ‘She’s raised a point that may help us prove Papa wasn’t your father.’

Harry didn’t mock.

‘We know that your blood group and your mother’s are Rhesus negative,’ continued Emma. ‘If
my
father is Rhesus positive, he can’t be
your
father.’

‘We’ve discussed this on numerous occasions,’ Harry reminded her.

‘But if we were able to
prove
that my father’s blood group wasn’t the same as yours, we could get married. That is assuming you still want to marry me?’

‘Not this morning, my darling,’ said Harry, feigning boredom. ‘You see, I’m in the middle of committing a murder.’ He smiled. ‘In any case, we have no idea which blood type your father was, because despite considerable pressure from your mother and Sir Walter, he always refused to be tested. So perhaps you ought to write back, explaining that it will have to remain a mystery.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Emma, unbowed. ‘Because Great-aunt Phyllis has been following the case closely, and thinks she may have come up with a solution neither of us has considered.’

‘Picks up a copy of the
Bristol Evening News
from a newsstand on the corner of sixty-fourth street every morning, does she?’

‘No, but she does read
The Times,’
said Emma, still unbowed, ‘even if it is a week out of date.’

‘And?’ said Harry, wanting to get on with his murder.

‘She says it’s now possible for scientists to identify blood groups long after the person has died.’

‘Thinking of employing Burke and Hare to exhume the body, are we, darling?’

‘No, I am not,’ said Emma, ‘but she also points out that when my father was killed, an artery was severed, so a great deal of blood would have been spilt on the carpet and the clothes he was wearing at the time.’

Harry stood up, walked across the room and picked up the phone.

‘Who are you calling?’ asked Emma.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Blakemore, who was in charge of the case. It may be a long shot, but I swear I’ll never mock you or your great-aunt Phyllis again.’

‘Do you mind if I smoke, Sir Harry?’

‘Not at all, chief inspector.’

Blakemore lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘Dreadful habit,’ he said. ‘I blame Sir Walter.’

‘Sir Walter?’ said Harry.

‘Raleigh, not Barrington, you understand.’

Harry laughed as he sat down in the chair opposite the detective.

‘So how can I help you, Sir Harry?’

‘I prefer Mr Clifton.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

‘I was hoping you might be able to supply me with some information concerning the death of Hugo Barrington.’

‘I’m afraid that will depend on whom I’m addressing, because I can have that conversation with Sir Harry Barrington, but not with Mr Harry Clifton.’

‘Why not with Mr Clifton?’

‘Because I can only discuss details of a case like this with a member of the family.’

‘Then on this occasion, I shall revert to being Sir Harry.’

‘So how can I help, Sir Harry?’

‘When Barrington was murdered—’

‘He was not murdered,’ said the chief inspector.

‘But the newspaper reports led me to believe—’

‘It is what the newspapers didn’t report that is significant. But to be fair, they were unable to study the crime scene. Had they done so,’ said Blakemore before Harry could ask his next question, ‘they would have spotted the angle at which the letter opener entered Sir Hugo’s neck and severed his artery.’

‘Why is that significant?’

‘When I examined the body, I noticed that the blade of the letter opener was pointing upwards, not down. If I wanted to murder someone,’ continued Blakemore, rising from his chair and picking up a ruler, ‘and I was taller and heavier than that person, I would raise my arm and strike down into his neck, like this. But if I was shorter and lighter than him, and, more important, if I was defending myself –’ Blakemore knelt down in front of Harry and looked up at him, pointing the ruler towards his neck – ‘that would explain the angle at which the blade entered Sir Hugo’s neck. It is even possible from that angle that he fell on to the blade, which led me to conclude that he was far more likely to have been killed in self-defence than murdered.’

Harry thought about the chief inspector’s words before he said, ‘You used the words “shorter and lighter”, chief inspector, and “defending myself”. Are you suggesting that a woman might have been responsible for Barrington’s death?’

‘You’d have made a first-class detective,’ said Blakemore.

‘And do you know who that woman is?’ asked Harry.

‘I have my suspicions,’ admitted Blakemore.

‘Then why haven’t you arrested her?’

‘Because it’s quite difficult to arrest someone who later throws herself under the London express.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Harry. ‘I never made any connection between those two incidents.’

‘Why should you? You weren’t even in England at the time.’

‘True, but after I was released from hospital I trawled through every newspaper that even mentioned Sir Hugo’s death. Did you ever find out who the lady was?’

‘No, the body was in no state to be identified. However, a colleague from Scotland Yard who was investigating another case at the time informed me that Sir Hugo had been living with a woman in London for over a year, and she gave birth to a daughter not long after he returned to Bristol.’

‘Was that the child discovered in Barrington’s office?’

‘The same,’ said Blakemore.

‘And where is that child now?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Can you at least tell me the name of the woman Barrington was living with?’

‘No, I am not at liberty to do so,’ said Blakemore, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray full of butts. ‘However, it’s no secret that Sir Hugo employed a private detective who is now out of work and might be willing to talk, for a modest remuneration.’

‘The man with the limp,’ said Harry.

‘Derek Mitchell, a damn fine policeman, until he was invalided out of the force.’

‘But there’s one question Mitchell won’t be able to answer, which I suspect you can. You said the letter opener severed an artery, so there must have been a great deal of blood?’

‘There was indeed, sir,’ replied the chief inspector. ‘By the time I arrived, Sir Hugo was lying in a pool of blood.’

‘Do you have any idea what happened to the suit Sir Hugo was wearing at the time, or even the carpet?’

‘No, sir. Once a murder enquiry is closed, all the personal belongings of the deceased are returned to the next of kin. As for the carpet, it was still in the office when I’d completed my investigation.’

‘That’s very helpful, chief inspector. I’m most grateful.’

‘My pleasure, Sir Harry.’ Blakemore stood up and accompanied Harry to the door. ‘May I say how much I enjoyed
The Diary of a Convict
, and although I don’t normally deal in rumour, I’ve read that you might be writing a detective novel. After our chat today, I shall look forward to reading it.’

‘Would you consider looking at an early draft and giving me your professional opinion?’

‘In the past, Sir Harry, your family haven’t cared too much for my professional opinion.’

‘Let me assure you, chief inspector, that Mr Clifton does,’ Harry replied.

Once Harry had left the police station, he drove over to the Manor House to tell Emma his news. Emma listened attentively and when he’d come to the end, she surprised him with her first question.

‘Did Inspector Blakemore tell you what happened to the little girl?’

‘No, he didn’t seem that interested, but then why should he be?’

‘Because she might just be a Barrington, and therefore my half-sister!’

‘How thoughtless of me,’ said Harry, taking Emma into his arms. ‘It never crossed my mind.’

‘Why should it?’ asked Emma. ‘You have enough to cope with. Why don’t you start by calling my grandfather and asking him if he knows what happened to the carpet, and leave me to worry about the little girl.’

‘I’m a very lucky man, you know,’ said Harry as he reluctantly released her.

‘Get on with it,’ said Emma.

When Harry telephoned Lord Harvey to ask him about the carpet, he was once again taken by surprise.

‘I replaced it within days of the police completing their investigation.’

‘What happened to the old one?’ Harry asked.

‘I personally threw it into one of the shipyard’s furnaces and watched it burn until there was nothing left but ashes,’ Lord Harvey said with considerable feeling.

Harry wanted to say ‘damn’, but held his tongue.

When he joined Emma for lunch, he asked Mrs Barrington if she knew what had happened to Sir Hugo’s clothes. Elizabeth told Harry that she’d instructed the police to dispose of them in any way they considered appropriate.

After lunch, Harry returned to Barrington Hall and called the local police station. He asked the desk sergeant if he could remember what had happened to Sir Hugo Barrington’s clothes once the investigation had been closed.

‘Everything will have been entered in the log book at the time, Sir Harry. If you give me a moment, I’ll check.’

It turned out to be several moments before the sergeant came back on the line. ‘How time flies,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten how long ago that case was. But I’ve managed to track down the details you wanted.’ Harry held his breath. ‘We threw out the shirt, underwear and socks, but we gave one overcoat, grey, one hat, brown felt, one suit, lovat-green tweed, and one pair of brogues, brown leather, to Miss Penhaligon, who distributes all unclaimed goods on behalf of the Sally Army. Not the easiest of women,’ the sergeant added without explanation.