A Mourning Wedding (19 page)

Read A Mourning Wedding Online

Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: A Mourning Wedding
12.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“I'm sure no one can possibly mind your putting Lord Gerald in there. After all, he's the son of a marquis. Oh dear, someone's going to have to break the news to Lord and Lady Tiverton!”
“Not you, my dear,” said Mrs. Maple firmly. “Leave it to Mr. Fletcher, who's a gentlemanly man, for all he's a policeman, and well up to the task.”
“And the Haverhills …”
“I'll go and speak to the Reverend about that this minute.”
“Oh yes, Timothy's the one for that. Poor Tim! Everyone's counting on him and Nancy.”
“And who better, madam? There's two that'll have their reward in Heaven, sure enough, bless them.”
The housekeeper left and Daisy, sipping the cocoa, pondered just what she needed to say to Alec. In the end, she wrote: “Darling, I can't think of anything else I can do to help, so I'm going to our room. I shan't sleep, though, until I hear how Gerald is, and I have things to tell you, so please come up when you can. All my love, Daisy.”
She folded the paper in three and three again, tucked the ends in, and wrote “DCI Fletcher” on the front. Then she thought of Belinda, who would have come home from school to be told by Mrs. Dobson, the cook-housekeeper, that her daddy had been called away. Bel was used to such eventualities, and she had been going to stay with a school friend for the weekend while both Alec and Daisy were away for the wedding. But, reliable though Mrs. Dobson was, Bel would be happier if she could go to the Prasads a day earlier, or if that was not possible, to the Germonds.
Daisy set down her cup on the tray, picked up the note to Alec, the blotter, the unused paper and the pencil, and went over to the desk.
Lying on it was the beginning of a letter, in some foreign language she didn't recognize. Even the handwriting looked foreign.
She remembered the sheet of paper John Walsdorf had slipped under the blotter when she came in that morning to ring up the police. He must have family or friends still in Luxemburg. It was quite natural, of course, but the fact that he had not cut all ties made him seem somehow more foreign. Perhaps he had foreseen such a consequence from the insular English and that was why he had hidden his letter. There was no reason to see anything sinister in it.
Daisy wondered if Alec knew. Walsdorf was one of the few he had already seen, before calling Teddy Devenish in for the second time, which suggested that Lady Eva had discovered something about him.
Actually, it was irrelevant whether his continuing connections in Luxemburg were what Lady Eva had ferreted out. Everything she knew was known to Alec. Anything she didn't know had nothing to do with her murder. So Daisy had no reason to tell Alec about the letter, thank heaven. Not that she had exactly read someone else's correspondence, as she couldn't understand a word, but just looking at the thing made her feel guilty. One simply didn't nose into other people's letters. She set down the blotter squarely on top of it.
What a pity Ernie had taken all the police notes with him! She hardly knew a thing about the investigation. Alec hadn't had time to talk to most of the residents and guests at Haverhill, let alone to listen to her opinions of them, and now he had two murders and an attempted—so far—murder on his hands.
Daisy shivered. No one knew how Lord Fotheringay had posed a threat to the murderer, but when he died Gerald was the first on the scene. And when Gerald was attacked, Daisy herself had been first on the scene. She would lock her bedroom door when she went upstairs.
In the meantime, she sat down at the desk and wrote briefly to Melanie Germond, Sakari Prasad, and Belinda. In a drawer she found stamps and envelopes. If the letters went out first thing in the morning, they should be delivered in time for Bel to spend tomorrow
night with one of her friends. Sighing, she sealed the envelopes. On the whole it was a definite blessing that Alec's mother had moved to Bournemouth, but there had been a few advantages to having her living with them.
She didn't feel at all like walking down the drive to the letter-box by the gates. Wondering where to put the letters so that they would be posted as early as possible, Daisy went out into the hall.
John Walsdorf came towards her from the direction of the stairs, a sheaf of envelopes in his hands. He had not come to the drawing room for coffee after dinner, she recalled. He must have been upstairs writing letters—not in the conservatory hitting Gerald over the head. She hoped.
“You have letters to post? I may take them for you? I have written to those wedding guests I failed to reach by telephone or telegraph, and some explanations to others. To those I spoke to only briefly or left messages. I go to walk to the letter-box now. We have missed the last post but thus without fail they will catch the early post.”
“Thanks!”
“I hope you did not consider to walk down yourself. This is too dangerous at this time. Already are two persons lying dead.”
He didn't know about Gerald? Daisy decided to leave it to someone else to break the news. “Thanks,” she said again, handing over her letters. “Do you think you'll be safe?”
“I know nothing dangerous to anyone. And besides …” He pulled the butt of a pistol just far enough from his pocket for Daisy to see it. “If the murderer attacks me, Mr. Fletcher may not have to arrest him.”
“But if you killed him, he'd have to arrest you. Be careful.”
Walsdorf bowed and went on his way.
If he was the murderer, he could shoot someone and claim self-defence, Daisy thought. He could have shot her. No, too much chance of someone coming through the hall, and Alec, for one, would never credit that she had attacked him.
She shouldn't have stayed alone in the library. Not that she had been alone for long, with everyone popping in and out, but the point was that they had all, in the end, left her alone there, even Ernie. Maybe they all unconsciously believed she was safe because she was the wife of the great Detective Chief Inspector from Scotland Yard. She had no such faith in her own immunity.
The stairs looked long and lonely. Someone could push her down them and claim she had turned dizzy and fallen.
Not likely, she assured herself, hurrying up. If she was only hurt, not killed, she'd know who had done it. She went into her bedroom and turned the key in the lock. Then, realizing it was probably not the only key, she shot the bolt, too.
That was when she realized she had given John Walsdorf the note for Alec, saying she had something to tell him.
“D
aisy?” Lucy's voice came from the bedroom next door.
Daisy stopped brushing her teeth and spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste: “Ung-huh?”
“Come in for a minute, when you're finished?”
“Ung-huh!”
She finished her teeth, gave the enormous bathtub a longing and regretful look, washed her face, and went through the connecting door. A glance reassured her that Lucy's door to the corridor was bolted. She turned to Lucy. Sitting up in bed, without make-up, she was pale and wan, her hair tousled.
“I tried to go to sleep but it's much too early and … How is he?”
“I don't know, darling. I couldn't go and interrupt them to find out. I wrote a note to Alec to ask him to come up and tell me, but I've gone and given it to John Walsdorf and he'll be putting it in the letter-box right at this very minute.”
“Silly ass. Why on earth?”
“He was going to the post and I didn't want to walk down the drive. I wrote to Belinda and to her friends' mothers to propose her going to stay tomorrow as well as Friday and Saturday.”
“I'd have been a terrible mother, you know.”
“Why? You'd have a nanny, and then they go to school.”
“Darling, it's simply not done to let a nanny bring up one's offspring these days. One is expected to take an interest, kiss the little dears good night and so on. Did your mother ever kiss you good night?”
“Not that I remember,” Daisy admitted. “I sometimes didn't see Mother for weeks on end.”
“Did you want to?”
“Well, no. But if I had, maybe we'd be on better terms now.”
“You could hardly be on worse,” Lucy said candidly.
“Don't rub it in! You and Aunt Vickie don't exactly make a practice of falling into each other's arms.”
“No. Mummy was usually at home, and we were usually taken down for tea, unless there were guests. But I've always been the cuckoo in the nest, and cuckoos don't make good parents.”
“Rubbish,” Daisy snorted. “You can carry analogy too far, you know. Is that why … ?”
“Partly, maybe. I've never much cared for children. I simply can't bring myself to swoon over Tim's offspring, or George's.”
“Other people's are different, though I must say I adore Violet's. Or rather, one's own are different. Even if Bel isn't strictly speaking my own … Well, let's not get soppy. But when she's not happy, I
mind.
”
Lucy was silent for a moment, then she said, “I wish I knew how he is! I feel as if it's all my fault. If I hadn't been so beastly to him, he wouldn't have been meeting you in the conservatory. In fact, if I hadn't called him down from town, he wouldn't even have been at Haverhill, let alone walking in on poor Uncle Aubrey's death.”
“Of course it's not your fault, darling. It's the murderer's fault. You're not going to go all weepy on me, are you?”
“No.” Lucy summoned up a sort of smile. “Though sometimes I
wonder if the weepy sort have the right idea and we stiff-upper-lip types … What's that?”
Daisy listened. “Someone knocking on my door, I think.”
“Don't open it!”
“I expect it's Alec. If not, I won't.” She went through the bathroom to her and Alec's room, and over to the door. “Who's there?”
“It's me, love.”
“Darling!” She slid back the bolt, unlocked and opened the door. “How is he?”
“Still breathing, but Arbuthnot doesn't like the look of him at all. Severe concussion and considerable loss of blood. The latter might have done for him but for your friend Angela.”
“Thank heaven! I was so afraid of leaving her with him—she'd been outside since right after dinner and I'm sure she's strong enough to have bashed him with that tree.”
“I don't see you had much choice. You'd likely have killed him through ignorance. Angela had every chance to finish him off undetectably before Tom arrived, so I've crossed her off my list. That clears Teddy, too. I know I let him go before, but there was still the possibility that he and his sister had conspired. The trouble is, he was easily my best suspect.”
“I can tell you who wasn't in the drawing room for coffee.”
“I thought that must be it when I got your note. You didn't see any clue that might lead us to the murderer?”
“It was murder, then? Attempted murder?”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
“Daisy … !”
“All right, I won't ask. But, darling, I'm afraid this time I'm a terrible witness. A dead body is one thing, and bad enough, but someone who might die if you do the wrong thing rather takes your mind off anything else. I saw a broken flower-pot and a small palm and
spilled soil. And him.” She wasn't ready to think about it in any more detail than that. “No sign of anyone else.”
“You haven't told anyone what he was hit with, have you? Someone may be hoping we think it was an accident.”
“Give me credit for a little common sense!”
“Well, don't mention it. To anyone at all.”
“I won't. You said you got my note? John must have checked what I gave him before he went out.”
“Never mind that,” Alec said impatiently. “I've only got a minute. First, who knew you were meeting Bincombe?”
“Everyone. I mean, I can probably remember who was nearby when we arranged it, if I try, but at least one of them must have talked about it afterwards because Lucy's parents knew.”
“They knew
why
you met?”
“No. Actually, Aunt Vickie was afraid it would give people the wrong idea but … Gosh, I'd forgotten! She actually assumed it was because Gerald wanted me to pass on some tidbit of information to you. So the idea was current, not just in the murderer's mind.”
“Great Scott, Daisy!”
“Darling, I don't know how to stop people thinking it's a good idea to tell me things they want you to know.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don't encourage them?”
“Look at Lady Ione. You were right there and I didn't say a word. Anyway, that's got nothing to do with it. Gerald just wanted to talk about Lucy and the rest was a misconception for which I accept absolutely no responsibility!”
Alec sighed. “Never mind that, then. Who wasn't in the drawing room?”
“Right-oh. Angela, of course. She took the dog out right after—”
“Just names, Daisy, at least for the moment.”
“Lady Devenish. I saw her lurking in the hall outside the library when—All right, darling! Sir James wasn't there, nor were the Carletons.
Mr. Walsdorf. Tim and Nancy. Darling, it couldn't have been—”
“Nancy Fotheringay was extremely helpful with Bincombe until the doctor arrived. They'd both been up with Lady F and the Haverhills, easy to check.”
“Thank heaven! This is difficult, thinking who
wasn't
there. Maybe I should tell you who was.”
“Make a list, please. You can add any explanations that come to mind, but underline the names so I can pick them out. Is Lucy fit to do the same?”
“I think so. She's in a funny mood, blaming herself. Doing something positive will probably help. Shall I bring the lists down?”
“No, I'll send someone up for them in about half an hour. Unless it's Ernie, slide them under the door. You stay here and keep the door bolted. I'll probably be very late, so I'll just go and doss with Tom and Ernie.”
“Oh no, darling, tap on the door and wake me up, even if it's three in the morning. If I'm asleep. Not knowing about Gerald …”
“You need your sleep, love, for the baby.”
“I'll try,” Daisy promised. “I'm tired enough, but I rather think Macbeth hath murdered sleep.”
Alec kissed her. Raising his head, he looked towards the bathroom door and frowned. Daisy turned her head.
Leaning against the door-jamb, Lucy said sardonically, “Sorry, didn't mean to snoop.”
But despite her cool tone, her hands were clenched in the pockets of her kimono, Daisy saw. Perhaps Alec also noticed, because he said quite gently, “I have to run. Bincombe is still among the living. Daisy will tell you about him. Don't forget to bolt the door after me, Daisy.”
Daisy did so.
“Does that mean he thinks we're really in danger?” Lucy demanded.
“I doubt that you are, darling, but presumably Gerald was bashed because he was first on the scene, and this time I was.”
“Gerald didn't see anything. He would have told Alec hours ago. Why shouldn't he?”
“Very likely he didn't see anything, but you know how sometimes something you hardly noticed at the time strikes you later. I suppose the murderer was afraid of that, especially when Gerald arranged to meet me. People do tell me things when they're not sure they want to bother the police.”
“Because the police make them feel silly if it's unimportant.”
“Because they're afraid they'll look silly,” Daisy said firmly. “Quite another matter.”
“Sorry. What did Alec say about Gerald? It's not good, is it?”
“Bad concussion, and he lost a lot of blood. Alec said he would have bled to death if Angela hadn't … didn't know what to do, Lucy!”
Lucy came and put her arms round Daisy, but she said, “Buck up, darling. We can't all be medical experts. Wait a minute, did you say
Angela? Cousin
Angela? The one with the dogs?”
“She said she'd saved animals with similar injuries.”
They looked at each other and burst into whoops of laughter.
Their mirth did not last long but Daisy, at least, felt better. “Come on,” she said, going over to the writing table, “there are things we can do to help. I told Alec we'd make lists for him of who was in the drawing room after dinner. Pity we can't do the same for tea-time.”
“Angela!” Lucy was still marvelling. “I'll have to start being nice to her. Too humbling! I'd have thought he'd want to know who wasn't there, not who was.”
“Try and remember who wasn't, and you'll see how much easier it is to say who was. One might simply not have noticed someone.”
“I see what you mean. Right-oh, let's give it a go.”
 
 
Alec uttered a silent blasphemy as he came down the flight of stairs to the hall and saw the small group of people watching him, all too obviously waiting for him. Rupert strode forward to meet him.
“Inspector, what the deuce is going on here?” he demanded contemptuously. “How many more murders are we to expect? If this is the best Scotland Yard can do, we might as well have left the investigation to the local dolts!”
Stopping on the bottom step, where he had an inch or two advantage, Alec looked him up and down in silence for a moment, then said, “So you agree that your father was murdered, Lieutenant?”
Rupert's lips tightened. “Lieutenant Colonel.” His sudden smile, as sardonic as it was unexpected, strongly reminded Alec of his cousin Lucy. “No, Chief Inspector, I do not believe anyone would harm my father.”
“Well, we'll see when the autopsy results come back. As for the rest, if you wish to return the case to Inspector Crummle—”
“Crummle?”
The Reverend Timothy joined them. “Believe me, Rupert, you do not want Crummle back on the job.”
“Are you speaking ill of your neighbour, Timmy?” Rupert jeered. “All right, I'll take your word for it. No, Chief Inspector, we don't want Crummle.”
“Just as well. It would take not only the Chief Constable's approval but my Commissioner's. And at this time of night …”
“Say no more. No doubt you are doing your best.”
“You could help, if you were to ask your guests not to retire until they have spoken to me. I haven't yet had time to see everyone, though I have just had a long talk with Daisy, who has told me everything she observed on entering the conservatory. Every new attack provides new clues. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to Lord Gerald.”
“How is he?” Rupert asked with concern, and the rest of the group, who had been listening at a little distance, gathered closer.
Whatever Alec said was bound to reach the murderer's ears. He knew what he wanted the murderer to believe. Unfortunately it was far too near the truth for comfort. “Lord Gerald is still unconscious,” he said. “I'm afraid Dr. Arbuthnot does not expect him to survive.”

Other books

Anticipation by Michelle, Patrice
The Council of Mirrors by Michael Buckley
The Dogs of Winter by Bobbie Pyron
The Guardian by Elizabeth Lane
The Bottom of the Jar by Abdellatif Laabi
Wild Is My Love by Taylor, Janelle