Authors: Carola Dunn
Dead in the Water (12 page)
“But you didn't like him?”
“Oh, well, not exactly. He was a rotter. Not an out-and-out bad hat, you know, but a bit of a cad. If you ask me,” Leigh said earnestly, “he'd have done better at the Houseâthat's Christ Church Collegeâwhere they're used to dukes and such. He'd have had to pull his socks up. As it is, he went from being the blue-eyed boy of the family to being a big fish in a small pond.”
“Oh?”
“Ambrose is a small college, and it's mostly plain gentry, not the nobility. My people are County, not a title in the family. So what with his pater being the Earl of Bicester, and his allowance being double anyone else's, and good at sports on top of it, and sailing through his exams without ever swotting ⦠well, he just went on being cock of the walk. He's never had to consider anyone else's feelings. Sorry, there I go blethering on again!”
“Not at all. An understanding of the victim's character is often a great help in our investigations. So Basil DeLancey was accustomed to riding roughshod over all and sundry?”
“Yes, but he was especially offensive to people he despised, like Bott, and Miss Carrick. He didn't think women belong at
the university, and she'sâerâno Helen of Troy,” Leigh said, delicately tactful. “He was pretty brutal to her. Verbally, I meanâI heard him more than once. Never laid a hand on her, of course. Miss Cheringham was the one he'd have liked to lay a hand on, if you'll pardon the expression.”
the university, and she'sâerâno Helen of Troy,” Leigh said, delicately tactful. “He was pretty brutal to her. Verbally, I meanâI heard him more than once. Never laid a hand on her, of course. Miss Cheringham was the one he'd have liked to lay a hand on, if you'll pardon the expression.”
“In the way of love-making, I take it? Did she respond favourably to his overtures?”
“Lord, no! Stony-faced. Of course, he managed to make even a compliment insulting, saying she was wasting her time with education.”
“She and Miss Carrick must have been pretty upset.”
“Not half as upset as Cheringham and Frieth. But I shouldn't be gossiping about people like this,” said Leigh uneasily.
“It's not gossip,” Alec reassured him. “You're helping the police to find a murderer.”
“It's not really murder, is it? I mean, Bottâwhoever hit DeLancey could have finished him off on the spot if he'd wanted to. My hat, you don't think it was Frieth or Cheringham, do you?”
“I haven't enough evidence to be certain of anything.” Alec cast his mind back over what had been said by whom and when. Leigh and the others were presumably unaware that DeLancey had been hit on the back of the head with a weapon. “What do you think?”
“Frieth wouldn't have hit him before the race.” Leigh looked and sounded positive. “Not while there was still a chance of Ambrose winning a cup. I still think it must have been Bott, even if he doesn't know yet that DeLancey's dead. He's shorter and lighter, and DeLancey's boxed for Oxford,
but Bott plays racquets. He's quick on his feet. He might have popped one over DeLancey's guard.”
but Bott plays racquets. He's quick on his feet. He might have popped one over DeLancey's guard.”
Without any visible damage to himself? Alec didn't bother to voice his doubt, since it was irrelevant. He had noted Leigh's evasion with regard to Cheringham. Daisy's cousin's cousin had double Frieth's motive for anger, being protective of both his cousin and his fiancée. Also, the possible effect on the race of striking the stroke was probably less important to him than to Frieth, since he was of an intellectual bent.
On the other hand, since winning a trophy was more important to Frieth, he was more likely than Cheringham to have gone to the boat-house to check on the boat. He might have quarrelled with DeLancey, perhaps over his treatment of the cox and its results for the Ambrose eight, perhaps over Tish. In hot blood, he could well overlook the consequences for the next morning's race.
But would either of them have struck out with anything but his fists? Improbable, Alec thought, but certainly not impossible.
“Tell me about Bott and DeLancey,” he requested.
Apart from a penitent acknowledgement that he and his friends had rather egged DeLancey on in the whisky affair, Leigh's account differed only in minor particulars from Daisy's. “Bott's rather a pill,” he said frankly, “but he had every right to be mad as fire. DeLancey went too far. I'd have said he deserved to get his comeuppance, if he hadn't died of it.”
“It sounds as if he knew how to make himself unpopular. Had he a reputation as a womaniser?”
“There was a story making the rounds. But that was a shop-girl, not a respectable young lady like Miss Cheringham,”
Leigh added hastily. “The usual thing: got the girl into trouble and deserted her. I heard his brother came down quite handsomely to hush it up. No question of breach of promise, mind you, just her mother threatening to make a song and dance about it.”
Leigh added hastily. “The usual thing: got the girl into trouble and deserted her. I heard his brother came down quite handsomely to hush it up. No question of breach of promise, mind you, just her mother threatening to make a song and dance about it.”
“No father or brother out for his head?”
“Not that I know of,” Leigh said with regret, sorry to dismiss a hypothetical suspect who was a complete outsider. “A widow with an only child, I believe. Anyway, it was last year people were talking about it. It's rather a long time to wait for vengeance unless you're planning something a bit more sophisticated than a biff on the noddle.”
Alec was relieved not to have to call on the Oxford city police to run to earth an unnamed and possibly mythical malefactor. He made a note, though, to check Leigh's information with the others.
“Was he biffed in the boat-house?” Leigh asked. “I saw your man rooting around there.”
“To your knowledge, was DeLancey at the boat-house last night?”
“I didn't see him go, but he kept blethering on about Bott making threats and how the boat ought to be guarded. Said he didn't see why his brother should care if he chose to spend an uncomfortable night down there.”
“This was yesterday evening?”
“Yes, after dinner.”
“Who was there?”
“Lady Cheringham, Miss Dalrymple., Fosdyke for a while, but he's an early-to-bed-and-early-to-riser, Poindexter, Wells, Meredith.” Leigh stopped to think. “Cheringham and Frieth were out on the terrace most of the time, with Miss Cheringham
and Miss Carrick. Or vice versa, if you see what I mean. Miss Dalrymple went out to take a telephone call, then came back and said she was ready for bed. About half ten, I should say. That was when Lady Cheringham called the other girls in and they all went up together. Cheringham and Frieth came in a few minutes later, and went straight up.”
and Miss Carrick. Or vice versa, if you see what I mean. Miss Dalrymple went out to take a telephone call, then came back and said she was ready for bed. About half ten, I should say. That was when Lady Cheringham called the other girls in and they all went up together. Cheringham and Frieth came in a few minutes later, and went straight up.”
“They didn't stop to hear DeLancey holding forth?”
“Not that I remember.”
“And Bott wasn't there?”
“No, he didn't come in to dinner. With his girl, I expect, and went straight up when he got back. Can't blame him after what happened the night before and that morning. If he'd turned up, DeLancey hadn't the sense to leave him be. He had a couple of whiskies and was starting on a third when he got a telephone call. While he was gone, the rest of us buzzed off to bed. We were pretty fed up with his grousing.”
“All the rest went up?”
Leigh pondered. “Yes, I think so. I'm pretty sure, actually. Meredith came out of the drawing-room right after me, and he was the last.”
“And you didn't see or hear DeLancey come up later?”
“Not a whisper. We were in and out to the bathroom and so on, but I, for one, dropped off pretty quick and slept like a baby till morning. DeLancey wouldn't necessarily have made a lot of noise. He could put away three whiskies without bursting into song or falling over his shoelaces.”
It dawned on Alec that he did not know what DeLancey had been wearing when he was struck down. Daisy hadn't mentioned how he was dressed when he invaded her room, and Tom hadn't had time to investigate the contents of his wardrobe.
“Do you dress for dinner here?” he asked.
Leigh looked taken aback. “Good Lord, yes. We rowers may expose our knobbly knees to the world at times, and sit on the lawn in our shirtsleeves on a hot day, but in general we're quite civilised.”
Alec had never given much credence to the tales of British gentlemen changing for dinner in the depths of the jungle, but perhaps they were true. Would Daisy expect him to dress every evening when they were married?
He dragged his mind back to the present. Heat and thirst made it difficult to concentrate. The admirable Gladstone wouldn't bring the tea in the middle of an interview.
Alec looked round as the door opened. Not Gladstone with the tea, but Piper, looking pleased with himself.
“That's all for now, thank you,” Alec said to Leigh. “You've been very helpful. Sergeant Tring will take your fingerprints, for elimination purposes, and I may have a few more questions for you later. Were you meaning to leave Henley today?”
“No, I'll stick it out. Don't want to leave the others in the lurch. Is it all right if I go up the river to watch the rest of the races?”
“By all means. Wait half an hour and some of the others will be free to go with you. Please don't talk about what we have been discussing.”
“Right-oh, sir.”
Leigh went out and Alec turned to Piper. “Any luck?”
“Got it, Chief. Perfick match. I reckon Bott was going to hole the boat with it.”
“Possibly,” said Alec. “The question is, why the dickens should he throw it away in the shrubbery?”
A
discussion of the tent-peg had to wait. The door opened again and Lady Cheringham came in, bearing a vase of pink and white phlox and followed by Gladstone with a tray.
discussion of the tent-peg had to wait. The door opened again and Lady Cheringham came in, bearing a vase of pink and white phlox and followed by Gladstone with a tray.
“Gladstone told me you are interviewing in here, Mr. Fletcher. I thought a few flowers would brighten the place up for you.” She set the vase on the desk, while Gladstone silently deposited the tray on the long table and withdrew. “Rupert never lets me put any in the library,” she continued. “They make him sneeze, poor dear.”
“Lovely, Lady Cheringham. This is Detective Constable Piper, one of my assistants.”
“How do you do, Mr. Piper. I've met Mr. Tring, a charming man. My dear Mr. Fletcher, do you want to ask me any questions? You mustn't be shy, you know. After all, you'll soon be my nephew-in-law.”
“That's hardly a qualification for interrogating you,” Alec said with a smile. In fact, while shy was not the word, the relationship definitely made things more difficult. “There is one question only you can answer: Do you know of anyone leaving the house last night after you went to bed?”
Lady Cheringham shook her head. “I sleep very well after pottering in the garden all day. I wouldn't hear unless someone made enough noise to wake me, say by starting a car under my window. Is that all?” she asked, slightly disappointed.
“For now. How is Patricia?”
“She insists on coming down for tea,” said her ladyship, frowning, “but she's still in a state of shock, if you ask me. I'd never have guessed she was so oversensitive.”
“Witnessing sudden death, even of a stranger and without the shadow of violence, is a severe shock to many people,” Alec said. “When it's an acquaintance, and there's a suspicion of murder, it's naturally much worse.” He gathered neither Tish nor Daisy had informed Lady Cheringham of DeLancey's incursion and their consequent feelings of guilt.
“I suppose so. I can't decide whether it's just as well we didn't take her to Africa, considering the delicacy of her nerves, or whether it would have done her good, braced her backbone, so to speak. Still, it's too late now. Are you going to have to interview her?”
“Yes, I'm afraid so.”
“I'm sure I don't need to ask you to be gentle with her.”
“Great Scott, no! After all, she will soon be my cousin-in-law.” Which would make him nearly Cheringham's cousin, Alec realised, dismayed. Should he ask to be taken off the case?
“You are so nearly a relative,” Lady Cheringham reflected, “it doesn't seem right that you are staying in town. The house is practically bursting at the seams, so I can't offer you a proper bedroom of your own. There's Mr. DeLancey's bed, sharing a room with Mr. Fosdyke, but I wonder if you would prefer to sleep on the sofa in Rupert's dressing-room? Would the convenience outweigh the discomfort?”
“As a matter of fact, it most definitely would,” said Alec, whose bed at the Old White Hart had felt almost as ancient as the fifteenth-century inn. Without a qualm he consigned Tom Tring's well-padded bones to its torturous embrace. “I've been wondering what to do with Tring and Piper tonight. They can have my room at the White Hart, if you're sure I shan't be in the way?”
“Not at all.”
“Sir Rupert isn't coming back?”
“I haven't tried to get in touch. He was an excellent administrator, but since retiring, he has been obsessed with that blessed book of his. He wouldn't be the least help to you, to me, or to poor Patricia. I'll have the bed made up in the dressing-room, and you must come and stay again, some time when we don't have a murder in the house. Such a disconcerting business!”
“I'm afraid it tends to be,” Alec apologised, thinking he'd seldom seen anyone less disconcerted. Life in Africa must have inured her to shock.
She patted his arm. “I'm so glad it's dear Daisy's young man who's in charge, not a stranger. Well, I'll leave you to your tea and your business.” With a smiling nod to Piper, who had tactfully withdrawn to the far end of the room, she departed.
“Nice lady,” said Piper, with a depth of admiration he usually reserved for Daisy.
Alec agreed, especially when he recalled the daunting disapproval of her sister, the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, Daisy's mother.
Used to hurried meals, Piper managed to devour two Gentleman's Relish sandwiches, three biscuits, a slice of
Dundee cake, and half a cup of tea before Alec sent him running again.
Dundee cake, and half a cup of tea before Alec sent him running again.
“I'll see Poindexter next,” he said, pouring himself a second cup. Daisy was having teaâor perhaps champagne and strawberriesâin the Stewards' Enclosure with her friends, Lord and Lady Fitzsimmons, and His Royal Highness Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester. How old was the Prince? Twenty-two or three, Alec thought, not so much younger than Daisy.
Of course, she actually expected just to be presented to him, not to take tea with him. And it was all in the way of business, Alec consoled himself.
He'd better return to his own business. Glancing at his brief notes of the interview with Leigh, he pondered the significance of what DeLancey had been wearing when he fell. His jacket at least, and probably his trousers, should show some signs of the fall. A dinner-jacket smirched or damaged would not indicate where he fell. But if he had worn some other article of clothing, then he had changed after dinner, and why should he do so if not for a vigil? It would be another piece of evidence pointing to the boat-house as the scene of the crime.
Bott hadn't come in for dinner. Even if he came back earlier in the day to change out of his rowing shorts, no one would tell him of DeLancey's intention to guard the boat, would they? He had no reason to suppose the coast would not be clear when he crept down to the boat-house in the middle of the night.
Tent-peg in hand? How much damage could he do to a racing boat with a tent-peg? Why toss it aside, outside the boat-house? Why not plan to use a boat-hook in the first place?
“Ah, Mr. Poindexter. Take a seat.”
Poindexter confirmed much of Leigh's report, but added little. The same was true of Wells and Meredith. Each claimed to have slept soundly, not leaving his room after going to bed, and not hearing his room-mate stir until morning. They all agreed that no rowing man worth his salt would leave an oar lying about on the ground.
They also agreed that the annual “bumping” races at Oxford proved the boats were pretty sturdy. Holing one with a tent-peg would not be easy, at least not without a mallet.
Tom could hardly have missed a mallet lying in the bushes. Why not hit out with a mallet one was carrying instead of putting it down to pick up an oar? Perhaps the tent-peg was nothing to do with Bott. It matched his, but tent-pegs were much of a muchness, after all. Analysis of the wood might prove something. No good counting to see if one of Bott's was missingâanyone in his right mind would take extras in case some split.
Where was Bott?
Alec dismissed Meredith and sent for Fosdyke.
The surgeon's son was higher on the list of suspects than the four already interviewed, but not by much. As a member of the fours crew, he had a reason to check the boat in the night, but no one had suggested he had any particular reason to quarrel with DeLancey. The possibility remained of DeLancey having become obstreperous when Fosdyke was putting him to bed, but the evidence all pointed to the boat-house, not a bedroom.
“What was DeLancey wearing when you went to his assistance last night?” Alec rapped out as Fosdyke entered the library.
“His sweater, and flannels. I was glad, because I'd have had a job getting him out of a dinner-jacket.”
“He was being difficult?”
“Just limp.” The eyes that met Alec's were as guileless as Daisy's. He reminded himself that he would never describe Daisy as guileless. “As it was, I didn't even bother to undress him,” Fosdyke continued, sitting down as Alec waved him to the chair. “But it wasn't him, it was Miss Cheringham whose assistance I went to, and Miss Dalrymple. She's a brick, isn't she? I thought DeLancey was drunk. The pater says it was a natural mistake, but I still feel bad about it.”
“DeLancey was a friend? You chose to share a room with him?”
“Crikey, no! I don't think he had any real friends, just a few toadies. The others all teamed up, and I got stuck with him. I kept pretty much out of his way, getting up early and going to bed early. He didn't pick on me much, anyway, because I took no notice. People like that soon quit if you ignore them.”
“Very true.”
“The pater taught me that before I went away to prep school. The pater's a good egg,” Fosdyke said defensively, with an air of embarrassment. Perhaps in his circles fathers were generally regarded as antediluvian antiques.
Alec decided the young man was probably just as ingenuous as he seemed. What had Daisy said about him? A nice, obliging boy who lived to run, row, eat, and sleep.
“Were you awake, or did you wake up, when DeLancey came up to change his clothes?”
“He woke me. That was typicalâhe turned on the overhead light and didn't attempt to be quiet. Though I think he really was a bit tipsy then.”
“What time was that?”
“I don't know. I didn't want him to know he'd woken me. When he went off again, I had to get up to turn off the light, but I didn't look at the time.”
“Where did you suppose he was going?”
“To the boat-house, I assumed. He'd been talking about it earlier, though I didn't believe he'd do it.”
“Were you concerned about Mr. Bott's threats against the boat?” Alec asked.
“He didn't threaten the boat, he threatened DeLancey. The boat business was all DeLancey's imagination.” Fosdyke paused, forehead wrinkling. “At least, I suppose he was right, wasn't he? I mean, Bott hit him down there, and why was Bott there if not to bash in the boat?”
“We have absolutely no evidence of Bott's presence in the boat-house last night,” Alec said repressively, as he had already stated four times in various ways. He asked a few more questions, but he was inclined to give young Fosdyke the benefit of the doubt.
“I told Father I'd go and find him when you had finished with me.”
“You're free to go, but please telephone if for any reason you don't come back here for the night. Piper, I'll see Miss Cheringham next, in case she wants to retire to bed again.”
As Fosdyke and Piper left, Tom came in. “Didn't want to interrupt, Chief, case you was getting a confession.”
“No such luck. What about you?”
“I been talking to Mr. Gladstone. DeLancey barely noticed the servants existed, so there's no motive there. He had a telephone call from his brother about quarter to eleven.”
“Yes, Lord DeLancey told us. What did Gladstone have to say about it?”
“All the rest went upstairs while Basil DeLancey was talking on the telephone. Gladstone went into the drawing-room to tidy and lock up. DeLancey was angry when he came in, âcause he'd been deserted, I s'pose. He told Gladstone not to lock the French doors as he was going to step out for a cigar. Said he lock'em himself, then rushed off upstairs. Gladstone finished tidying and was just leaving when DeLancey came back dressed in a jersey. Looks like the boat-house is it, don't it, Chief?”
“Oh yes, we can be pretty certain of that. Have you checked the dabs on that oar?”
Tom's reply was forestalled by the sound of an argument just outside in the hall. Piper came in.
“Mr. Frieth and Mr. Cheringham want to come in with Miss Cheringham, Chief, but she ⦔
Tish burst in, turning on the threshold to say vehemently, “Do go away, the two of you. I don't need you to hold my hands. I don't
want
you to hold my hands.”
want
you to hold my hands.”
From the hall came Miss Carrick's musical tones, unruffled. “Cherry, come along, do. Mr. Fletcher doesn't bite, you chump.”
“Little does she know,” came
sotto voce
from Piper as Alec strode towards the door.
sotto voce
from Piper as Alec strode towards the door.
Turning as he approached, Tish shut the door firmly behind her. Pale and wan, she looked up at him apprehensively, as if Piper's words were closer to her expectations than Miss Carrick's.
“I don't bite,” Alec reassured her. “Come and sit down. I
imagine you don't want them here when we talk about DeLancey being in your bedroom last night.”
imagine you don't want them here when we talk about DeLancey being in your bedroom last night.”
“No,” she said with a little gasp. “They know now, but talking about it ⦠. It was too awful ⦠.” And she started to cry.
Dearly wishing Daisy was there, Alec took her hand and led her to the chair. He had coped with many a weeping woman in his time, and more than a few weeping men, but never one who was shortly to become a close relative.
At that inopportune moment, the telephone bell rang. Of course, it might be for anyone in the house, but it was about time Bott turned up. Alec glanced at Tom, who nodded and trod silently from the room.
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