01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (20 page)

‘I see. We’ll have to interview Mr Cutter and his son ourselves of
course. But what can you tell me about them. Are they reliable?’

‘Archie’s cellar man at the “Horse and Hound”. His family have lived in
the village for generations, so they have, and Sid’s his son, just a young lad
but pleasant enough, eleven or twelve, still at school.’

‘You mentioned earlier that they said they were out walking in the woods,
but from your tone I gather you didn’t believe them. Why’s that, Mrs Palmer?’
The sergeant looked at the cook quizzically, and for the first time during
their conversation she seemed a little uneasy.

‘The woodland backs onto Sir William’s parkland, Mr Lane. Like as not the
Cutters’ intention was to do a bit of poaching. As you know times are hard,
Sergeant, there’s not many a folk who can afford fresh meat to feed their
families these days. And Sir William is awful lenient with them. He likes as
not turns a blind eye to a bit of poaching, as long as folks don’t take
advantage, of course.’

‘I see, very good of him. But it does mean, does it not, that if Mr
Cutter and his son were after bagging a rabbit or two they’d have taken a
shotgun with them?’

The servants’ hall suddenly became silent as the general to-ing and
fro-ing made by the servants undertaking their daily tasks, which had created a
background noise to their conversation, ceased abruptly and Lane inwardly
cursed himself for being too direct in his questioning. He had no intention of
making them guarded in what they said, frightened of incriminating someone.

‘You misunderstand me, Sergeant,’ said Mrs Palmer, clearly flustered,
wringing her apron between her hands as if it was wet. ‘I didn’t mean to imply
that just because Archie Cutter is not above doing a bit of poaching, he’d kill
someone. That’d be ridiculous!’

‘I’m not saying that he did, Mrs Palmer,’ said the sergeant trying to
recover the situation and reassure all the anxious eyes that were turned to
him. ‘I’m sure he didn’t, but he would have had a gun with him and I need to
find out what he did with it. I’m thinking that despite Sir William’s lenient
approach to a bit of poaching on his land, Mr Cutter wouldn’t want to be caught
red handed with a gun in his possession. I take it he came back with Stafford
to get his boy? He must have done something with the gun. Our men are out
searching the woods now, I don’t want them to find Mr Cutter’s gun and confuse
it with the weapon that killed the countess, it’ll only delay things.’

‘I see, Sergeant, you’re quite right,’ said Mrs Palmer looking relieved.
‘Well he did come back with Mr Stafford, as you say, to get young Sid. I think
that Mr Stafford thought it best if a member of the household, so to speak, was
guarding the body until the police arrived, so he left Bridges. And, before you
ask,’ she continued, holding up her hand as Lane looked about to interrupt her,
‘Cutter was carrying no gun. He was looking mighty shocked himself so I sat him
down and gave him a cup of sweet tea. By this time, I’d taken Miss Simpson up
to her room to lay down. Mrs Torrington offered to keep her company, for she
was in no fit state to be left alone. Meanwhile, Mr Stafford went to acquaint
Sir William as to what had happened.  He was that grateful to the Cutters
for how they had dealt with the situation, Archie staying with the body and
young Sid seeing Miss Simpson home, that he gave them a brace of pheasant to take
home with them. If we’d realised you would be here so quick we would have made
them stay put. But I’ll give you directions to their cottage, it’s just a
couple of miles away at the edge of the village.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer, you’ve been most helpful. I’ll just go and have a
word or two with my inspector and then no doubt I’ll be sent off to interview
the Cutters. And then I’ll come back and ask you a few more questions about the
guests, if you don’t mind. It’ll be a chance to have another slice of that delicious
cake if nothing else.’ He beamed around at all the servants, but none caught
his eye or smiled this time.

‘Sir, there’s something that I thought I’d better come and tell you
before I interview the servants further,’ said Lane entering the library.
Seeing that Rose was still there, he beckoned to the inspector to come over to
the door so that they could confer without being overheard. He was surprised to
notice that one of the constables was also there, sitting in the same chair
that he had sat in when taking notes. ‘Miss Simpson was discovered in the wood
by an Archie Cutter and his young son, Sid. Apparently she was in no fit state
to make her own way back to the house so young Sid escorted her while Archie
Cutter kept watch over the body. Mr Cutter is a cellar man at the local public
house. The servants think that he and his son were probably out poaching when
they came across her, which obviously means that one of them was more than
likely carrying a gun. When Stafford and Bridges, that’s the head gardener,
sir, went to relieve Cutter and ascertain the truth of the boy’s somewhat
garbled story, there was no sign of a gun. Cutter had no doubt taken the
opportunity to hide it while he was alone with the body. Sir William is known
to be rather tolerant of poachers on his land, but even so, I doubt Cutter
wanted to risk it, particularly as Lady Belvedere had been shot with just such
a weapon.’

‘That explains it,’ said the inspector, not sounding particularly
surprised. ‘The constables located a shotgun during their search of the woods.
It had been partially hidden in the undergrowth close to the scene of the
shooting. It seemed to me a bit too convenient, unless of course the killer had
panicked, which would fit in with Sir William’s theory of a poacher who had
shot Lady Belvedere by mistake. I’ve just been to see the gun myself in situate
and to me it doesn’t look as if it’s recently been fired, but I could be wrong.
It’s been photographed and tested for fingerprints; some were found, and I was
just about to go and check to see if they matched those of anyone in the house.
But, as it now seems likely that it’s this Cutter’s gun, take the gun with you
and go and interview the Cutters and take their fingerprints.  Hopefully
they’ll confirm straight away that it’s theirs, but make sure you bring it back
so that our gun expert can check it. It’s just possible that they might have
killed Lady Belvedere by mistake and then hung around when they saw the state
Miss Simpson was in, but I think that’s highly unlikely. I think we’ll find
that another gun altogether is the murder weapon.’

‘Very well, sir, but what about Miss Simpson? You’ll be wanting to take a
statement from her won’t you, she’s obviously got something that she wants to
get off her chest; you’ll need someone to take notes.’

‘That’s alright, Lane, I’m sure the constable will oblige. I’m very
mindful that I’ve kept Miss Simpson waiting. They brought me the news about the
discovery of the gun just after you left to interview the servants, so I left
the constable to sit with Miss Simpson while I went out to take a look for
myself. She seemed in a particularly agitated state and I didn’t think she
should be left alone. But I’m very keen at the moment that we locate the murder
weapon and eliminate these Cutters and their gun from our enquiries if we can.
I know I can rely on you Lane, but try and find out if the Cutters heard or saw
something. They must have been in the vicinity when Lady Belvedere was shot.
Perhaps they saw a figure running away or they may have overheard Lady
Belvedere’s and Miss Simpson’s conversation, anyway, see what you can find
out.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘Right, I really must get on with interviewing Miss Simpson now before I have
any more interruptions. I’m anxious to find out what she’s got to tell us. I
suppose Sir William will be back any minute.’

‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score, sir,’ said
the sergeant trying vainly to suppress a grin. ‘Last time I saw him was when I
was leaving the servants’ hall. I had to pass the housekeeper’s sitting room,
and happened to look in; Sir William was partaking of a glass of sherry with
his butler. They both looked very settled.’

‘Well, what is it Stafford?’ demanded Sir William, for the second time
that morning, as he entered his butler’s pantry, a service room located off the
kitchen. Sir William looked around him, taking in the counters and the sink,
the fine china that was stored there, as well as the family’s silver, which was
both cleaned and counted in this room. He caught sight on the desk of the wine
log, written in Stafford’s very precise hand, as well as the merchant account
books, charge over which was Mrs Palmer’s responsibility. Leading off from the
pantry was Stafford’s bedroom. Sir William had rarely ventured into his
servants’ domain, and he felt at once as if he were entering into another
world.

‘This had better be good,’ Sir William continued, ‘I can’t have you drag
me out of a police interview just to check the quality of Mrs Palmer’s soup or
to go through the menu for luncheon. Doubt whether anyone will feel much like
eating anyhow, what with this dreadful business, what?’ He wanted dreadfully to
sit down and rest a while and think, he considered the butler’s pantry rather
restful and masculine, an escape from the feminine finery of the main parts of
the house, but he did not think it appropriate for him to do such a thing
without being bidden, as if he would be overstepping the mark, imposing the
master-servant relationship into somewhere which was totally Stafford’s domain,
and so he stood there uncomfortably, aware of his aching bones. However, there
was only a rickety old chair which looked distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Quite so, sir,’ said Stafford in his usual deferential tone, his face as
impassive as ever. Sir William had always found his butler’s lack of emotion
disconcerting and wondered, not for the first time, whether Stafford was
secretly laughing at him.

‘I can assure you that luncheon is not an issue, sir. Mrs Palmer and I
had exactly the same thoughts on the matter as yourself, sir. Instead of roast
beef and Yorkshire pudding with roast potatoes, cabbage, carrots and gravy …,’
Sir William found his mouth watering at the description of the meal he was to
miss despite his fine words, ‘Mrs Palmer, having already having started to cook
the joint of beef before we became aware of the catastrophe, is going to do
rare roast beef sandwiches and, for those who are really not up to eating anything
at all, a hot chicken broth that she usually reserves for invalids. She is
still intending on serving the apple pie and custard, sir, for we both thought
that the sugar would give much needed energy which we feel is very necessary at
a time like this to see everyone through the shock.’

‘Yes, very good,’ agreed Sir William, secretly delighted that pudding was
still on the menu.

‘And for the policeman from Scotland Yard, sir’ continued Stafford, ‘we
thought just sandwiches and coffee. Would you like to sit down, sir? What I
should like to talk to you about may take a little time to discuss. If I may
suggest, sir, going into the housekeeper’s sitting room, there are rather more
comfortable chairs to sit on in there. Besides, we are sure to be disturbed by the
other servants if we stay in this room.’

‘Oh, very well, Stafford, if you insist, lead the way,’ said Sir William
wearily, collapsing into a rather faded armchair as soon as they entered the
room. He noted that Stafford remained standing and he felt immediately that
this placed him at a distinct disadvantage having the butler loom over him.
‘Now what is it, Stafford, what’s so important, spit it out, man.’

‘When Betty, that’s the under housemaid, sir, was cleaning your study
this morning just before the police arrived, your saying that it was probably
the room that they would use as their interview room, although, of course,
they’ve since decided to relocate to the library, it being bigger, but we
weren’t to know that at the time. Anyway,’ Stafford continued quickly, aware
that his master was looking both a little confused and bored, ‘suffice to say,
Betty went in there to clean and that if it hadn’t been for the police, it
probably wouldn’t have been cleaned until Monday morning, sir, when you were
partaking of breakfast because you don’t usually use it on …..’

‘Get on with it, man,’ interrupted Sir William rudely, ’do you think I am
interested in when my study gets cleaned, don’t you think I’ve got more
important things to think about just now what with one of my guests having been
killed on my property, my wife’s sister at that?’

‘Indeed, sir,’ agreed Stafford, impassive as ever, ‘which is why I
wouldn’t have said anything only when Betty pulled back the curtain of the
alcove to polish your gun cabinet she noticed that the lock had been forced.’

‘What!’ Sir William’s eyes bulged and he covered his face with his hand.
‘Don’t tell me my shotgun was missing?’

‘No, sir, it had been put back.’

‘Ah, that’s a relief, nothing to worry about then. What do you mean by
put back? It was probably never used in the first place. I’ve always thought
that lock was rather dodgy, probably just came apart, meant to mention it to
you before; have someone mend it at once.’

‘Yes, sir, of course. But before I do, I should mention that the maid
came to see me straightaway about her discovery. In view of everything that had
happened, I took the liberty of examining the shotgun and found that it had
been recently used and put back uncleaned.’

‘Good God, man, are you sure?’

‘Quite sure, sir.’

‘How many people know about this, Stafford?’

‘Just me and the maid, sir, and you now, of course. I think the maid
could be persuaded to keep quiet about it though, she’s a little in awe of me,
sir; to tell the truth, I think I remind her a bit of her father.’

‘Let me think, let me think.’ Sir William got up and started pacing the
room. ‘We shouldn’t really withhold evidence from the police, Stafford. Not the
done thing at all, but if we tell them about it, it will knock the theory that
Lady Belvedere was killed accidently by a poacher completely on the head.’

‘My thoughts exactly, sir. I doubt even the most audacious poacher would
dare to break in to your study to steal one of your guns.’

‘This is awful, Stafford.’

‘Quite so, sir, which is why I thought I should tell you first, before we
informed the police.’

‘Absolutely, old man,’ agreed Sir William scratching his head. ‘Yes, I
suppose we must tell them. Damned if I know what to do about it. Of course, my
duty is to help the police with their enquiries, but if I do tell them about
the shotgun then they’ll think Lady Belvedere’s shooting was premeditated and
that the culprit was one of my … oh, it’s too awful to think about. Do you
think the murderer left fingerprints on the weapon, Stafford, or do you think
he wore gloves? It’s not really cricket after all to rat on one’s guests. One
doesn’t invite people to come and stay and then pass information onto the
police which will confirm that they are a murderer.’

‘Quite so, sir, which is why I took the liberty of wiping the gun of
fingerprints. I thought it was a necessary precaution in the circumstances.’

‘You did
what
, Stafford!’ Sir William looked aghast. ‘Why man,
that’s tampering with the evidence, you’re an accessory after the whatsit, you could
go to prison!’

‘Yes, sir, but only if the police find out. I’m hoping that they’ll think
that the murderer wiped his fingerprints from the gun himself. It’s what I
would have done, sir, if I had decided to take one of your guns and kill Lady
Belvedere.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you would have, Stafford. Why man, I bet you’d commit the
perfect murder.’

‘I hope so, sir, not that I hope the need will ever arise.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of you,’ said Sir William
eyeing his butler with a degree of unease. ‘Anyway, what’s done is done. Who
knows about you wiping the gun of fingerprints? I take it you didn’t do it in
front of the maid?’

‘Oh no, sir, that would have been most improper, sir,’ said the butler
looking horrified, ‘she holds me in high esteem, as do all the servants here,
of course. I see it as my duty to be an example to them.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you do. Well I suppose we’d better get it over with,’ said
Sir William in a resigned way, although having re-seated himself in the
armchair during the course of their conversation about the gun, he suddenly
found himself reluctant to get up. ‘I suppose I can’t hold it off any longer.
Come with me, Stafford, and we’d better bring the girl too, I expect the police
will want to have a word with her.’  

‘Perhaps before we go, sir, you’d like a small glass of sherry to fortify
yourself for the ordeal.’

‘Jolly good idea, Stafford, just what I need only better make it a large
one and given that there’s just the two of us and after the risk you’ve taken,
you’d better join me in a snifter yourself.’