Gunpowder Plot (22 page)

“That’s just how I feel! Except,” Daisy confessed, “I’m afraid I did rather trade on the Honourable at first, when I started writing, just to get the first commission.”

“It’s harder for girls,” Jack said generously. “Look at the trouble Babs has had being taken seriously. No one would have thought twice if I’d taken over the estate, however little I know about farming. She’ll do a far better job than I ever could. She and Gwen will still be my sisters, whatever the truth of the matter.”

“I should hope so!”

“I’m not so sure about Addie. She may decide to disown me, which would be no great loss, except that I’d like to have a hand in straightening out my nephews. But Mother will always be Mother, even if she isn’t really.” He paused. “You know, if Mrs. Gooch really is . . . was my mother, I’m glad I liked her. And I’m very sorry she’s dead, but I didn’t really know her, after all. Mother is Mother.”

“Have you told her so? I can’t help feeling she must be wondering how you feel about it all.”

“Ye-es. Yes, I know I ought. It’s . . . Somehow it’s easier to talk to you about it than to the family.”

“That’s often the way. But—”

“I know, I must talk to Mother. I wonder if she’ll tell me whether it’s true or not.”

“I shouldn’t ask, if I were you.”

“I expect the police will find out soon enough. They’re just waiting for that to arrest me, aren’t they? No, sorry, pretend I didn’t say that. I didn’t shoot them, but even I can see I’m by far the best prospect.”

“If you ask me, Gooch is quite as likely,” said Daisy. “Jealousy is—”

“Daisy!” Alec came in from the front hall, looking irritable.

“Hello, darling. Have you had tea?”

“Do sit down,” Gwen said. “I’ll ring for some fresh.”

“Thank you, but I’ve already had mine. Daisy, there’s a minor point or two I hope you can clear up for me. We’ll go to the billiard room.”

“Right-oh.” Daisy hurriedly swallowed the last bite of her macaroon— oh dear, had she really eaten half a plateful?— and washed it down with the last of her tea.

Meanwhile, she racked her brain over what she might have done to annoy him. Her conscience was clear, apart from eating more macaroons than twins or even triplets could justify. Well, fairly clear. Perhaps she should not have encouraged Jack to go and talk to Lady Tyndall about Mrs. Gooch’s letter, but Alec didn’t know about that, and anyway, it was a perfectly natural thing for Jack to do.

22

D
aisy held her tongue until the door closed behind her and Alec. Then she asked, “Why so snippy, darling?”

“Snippy? Was I? Sorry, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s just that every time I start interviewing anyone in this house, there’s an interruption. Mrs. Yarborough and her young criminals-in-training just arrived in Lady Tyndall’s sitting room.”

“That’s enough to drive anyone away. Jack was just telling me he has plans to reform the boys, if you don’t arrest him. Are you about to?”

“Not without some proof, or a confession, but it doesn’t look good for him, even before I know the truth about his parentage.”

“I can’t believe it. He’s such a nice boy. What about Gooch?”

“Gooch is still a possibility, but there’s one major flaw in any theory of him as murderer. Which relates to what I wanted to ask you. Think back to when Jack was looking for his father after the fireworks.”

“Right-oh. Do you want me to run through it again from the beginning of the quarrel?”

“That might be the best way. No, on second thoughts, jump to when he came back from searching in the drawing room and hall.”

“Gosh, it’s hard to remember. Only last night, but so much has happened since.”

“Try.”

“Let’s see. Did Adelaide come back with him? No, I think not. He came back just as Gooch went out, and he told us he couldn’t find Sir Harold. Then Gwen said Sir Harold had been talking to someone about the antique pistols earlier, so he might be in here, showing them off. Jack went over and looked in and said no one was there.”

“Slow down. Jack went over to the door between here and the dining room, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Was it open or closed?”

Daisy shut her eyes and tried to picture the scene. “Closed. It was closed. He— or maybe someone else, but I think it was Jack— actually said something like, ‘ Why would he have closed the door?’ ”

“But Jack opened it.”

“Yes,” she said, puzzled.

“And?”

“He said, ‘ It’s dark,’ or something similar. ‘ No light,’ that’s it. ‘ No light. No one’s there.’ And Gwen said, ‘ Maybe he went up to the study?’ Jack was ready to stop looking, but Gwen felt their father ought to take his share of entertaining the guests, especially as her mother was quite exhausted. He gave in and went—”

“In the dark?”

“No, of course not. He switched on the light.” Opening her eyes, she asked, “Is that what you wanted? I distinctly remember the click of the switch and light coming on beyond the doorway. What’s so significant about it?”

Alec sighed. “Not much, as it was off. Had it been on, it might have explained how Gooch found the pistol. Jack would be unlikely to turn on the light, since he had a torch and knew his way about. Besides, he’d have been concerned about a stray gleam escaping through the curtains. He knew the house was supposed to be dark.”

“But Gooch could have turned the light on and then turned it off again.”

“Exactly. So we’re no further forward. Supposing a premeditated murder by Gooch, who probably knew his wife intended a meeting with Sir Harold, he could have brought a weapon but decided, when he saw the Tyndalls’ guns, to use one of them.”

“If they’d been locked up, or hadn’t been loaded, he couldn’t have done it. He’d have had to use his own and you’d know it was him.”

“If we’re lucky, Tom may have found whatever he originally meant to use. Again, not proof but indicative.”

“If it wasn’t premeditated,” Daisy mused, “then perhaps he followed them in, noticed the guns in passing, followed them up, and overheard something which made him come down again and get a gun.”

“Which applies equally to Jack. We’ve been wondering whether Mrs. Gooch could have told him before the fireworks that she was his mother, but there’s no indication that he was under any degree of strain at that point.”

“So why, in that case, would he have followed them?”

“Good question,” Alec admitted.

“If he saw them go in together, what would he have thought?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“Probably that she had asked for the loan of a woolly scarf or hat or something like that. They had stacks available. Maybe she realized when she stepped outside that her own hat wasn’t going to keep her ears warm. Maybe—”

“Daisy, now you’re entering the realm of pure speculation. In any case, Jack denies absolutely having seen them. But your point is valid. Offhand, I can’t think of any reason why Jack should follow them.”

“And he had duties to attend to outside. Whereas it wouldn’t be at all surprising if Gooch, who was thoroughly uncomfortable with the whole situation, went after them.”

“True enough. I’ll bear it in mind. What were you and Jack discussing when I so rudely interrupted?”

“When you so rudely interrupted, he was telling me he expected you to arrest him any minute, though he hadn’t done it. He’d been expounding on his feelings about Mrs. Gooch’s letter.”

“To
you
? Great Scott, Daisy—”

“Don’t say it! I swear I didn’t invite his confidences. I think he needed to put it in words, and he said it was easier to talk to me than to his family.”

“Would you object to passing on what he told you?”

“Not at all. It tends to do away with his motive for murder, so I don’t suppose you’ll believe it, but you might as well hear it.” She explained how Jack had come to terms with the possibility of his illegitimacy. “Though I can’t believe he won’t be pleased if it turns out to be untrue,” she added.

“That would be unnatural,” Alec agreed. “I hope Ernie has found proof one way or the other.”

A few minutes later, Tom Tring came in. He carried a black calf-covered case, about fifteen inches by a foot, and four inches deep, with a monogram on the lid.

“Her jewellery,” Daisy guessed.

“That’s right, Mrs. Fletcher.” Tom set it on the table and fumbled with the tiny key. “I’m no expert, Chief, but if half of this is what it looks like, the Gooches had no need to be resorting to blackmail.” He lifted the lid to reveal little cushions of black velvet.

Daisy lifted the cushions and gasped at the gleam and glitter within. “Heavens above!” She folded out the two side pieces. “I’m no expert, either, alas, but it looks good to me. Look at the lustre of those pearls. They must be real, and worth a fortune on their own.”

“I wouldn’t care to bet against them,” said Alec. “Was the case in a safe place, Tom?”

“Down in the inn’s cellar, in a stout cupboard the landlord keeps his spirits locked up in, on account of a tramp breaking in a few years back and smashing what he didn’t drink. I gave him a receipt.”

“Fair enough. It’ll all have to be checked against the list, but I’m prepared to believe it’s the real thing, honestly come by.”

“‘ The list’?” Daisy queried.

“Stolen property, Mrs. Fletcher. By the stamp in the passport, they haven’t been in the country long enough to have set up a theft this big, but they could’ve bought the lot off a fence for a fraction of the actual value.”

“It’s funny, she didn’t strike me as the kind of woman to enjoy wearing a lot of jewellery. I didn’t see at the party, but at the Ravens she just had a brooch, besides her wedding ring. It’s not here.”

“Gold and opal? She was wearing it,” said Alec.

“It must have been a favourite. A souvenir from the gold fields perhaps. I bet Mr. Gooch just liked to buy her good stuff. He must have loved her a lot.”

“The more reason to be jealous,” Tom pointed out, “if he reckoned she was taking up again with her old lover. By the by, Chief, PC Blount came by the Ravens to report. He’d talked to some of the local people and two or three remembered Lady Tyndall going abroad for her health and coming back with the baby boy.”

“Yes, she’s confirmed herself that Jack was born abroad. I must bring you up-to-date on what little she told me. Daisy . . .” He stopped on the point of dismissing her as Piper came in with a sheaf of papers. “What have you got there, Ernie?”

“Blimey, Chief, the old doctor wrote everything down and never threw anything out. I’m surprised the attic floor hasn’t collapsed. I found the Tyndalls’ records in the end, and I brought her ladyship’s.” He laid the papers in front of Alec with the triumphant air of a dog presenting a ball to its master. “Seems like after Miss Gwendolyn was born, Dr. Gunnicott was pretty sure Lady Tyndall couldn’t have any more children, and if she could, she shouldn’t.”

“‘ Pretty sure’! That’s a fat lot of use,” grumbled Tom.

“He did say it’d prob’ly kill her, Sarge. Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, I didn’t ought to be talking about it in front of you.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Piper. You wouldn’t believe the horror stories women who’ve had children think suitable for the ears of one about to have a go for the first time. It does look as if Jack isn’t her son, doesn’t it?”

“Medicine is not an exact science,” said Alec.

“There’s a bit more, Chief. I found all the records of the three daughters’ births. Dr. Gunnicott attended the lot, along with a midwife, and her ladyship had a hard time of it every time. But there’s nothing for the son, though Gunnicott was still the family’s doctor. Not even a note that she was in the family way again, no referral to a Harley Street specialist, like you might expect, considering.”

“Any mention of advising her to go abroad for her health?”

“That,” said Ernie portentously, “was Sir Harold’s idea. The doc wrote down that he advised against it ’ cause the stress of the journey was likely to do more harm than a rest cure in the most sal-salyew—”

“Salubrious, laddie.” Tom’s vast vocabulary, as extensive as his girth but rarely displayed, always came as a bit of a surprise.

Ernie was catching up but had some way to go, though he had the advantage of being able to write down practically anything in shorthand, whether he understood it or not. “Cor, ta, Sarge. How d’you guess?”

“Guess! It’ll be a sorry day when I don’t know what’s in your mind before you do, my boy.”

“The most salubrious climate,” Alec said, “or something of the sort. Sir Harold went against the doctor’s advice, then. That lends a good deal of credibility to Mrs. Gooch’s story.”

“If Lady Tyndall hadn’t survived the journey,” Daisy said indignantly, “no doubt he would have come home with the baby and told everyone she died in childbirth.”

“Quite likely. He seems to have had no scruples where securing the succession was concerned. We’ll never know how serious he was about changing his will. You knew him, Daisy—”

“Slightly.”

“Is it possible he spoke in a temper and would have changed his mind by the morning?”

“Darling, I didn’t know him anywhere near well enough to predict. I expect he said things when he was in a passion that he wouldn’t have said in calmer moments, but whether he had the strength of mind to recant when he came to his senses, I haven’t the foggiest. The family are the ones to ask. . . . No, of course they’ll say yes, and you won’t be able to believe them. The servants? Neighbours? The lawyer?”

“Lewin said Sir Harold had never before threatened to change his will, remember. He made an appointment for today, and the lawyer was certainly under the impression that he intended to do it.”

“And Babs said she was sure he wouldn’t. We’re going round in circles.”

“My fault,” Alec acknowledged. “I shouldn’t start speculating about things we’ll never know.”

“It must be contagious,” said Daisy.

Unfortunately, Alec was reminded that she shouldn’t be there, which he was apt to forget in the heat of discussion. At least he remembered that she hadn’t butted in uninvited, that he had requested her help. As she left, he was telling Tom and Piper what she had said about the light in the billiard room.

In the passage, she met a maid.

“Oh, madam! Nurse sent me to fetch the ’ tective gentleman. Mr. Gooch is come to his senses an’ he can say a few words, but he’s in dreadful pain an’ she’s going to give him a ’ jection the doctor left to make him sleep, so please to come quick.”

“Chief Inspector Fletcher is in the billiard room.” If she hurried, she could get there before him. She’d just say she was enquiring after Gooch. No, better not. Alec was sure to guess the maid had told her the news.

She considered going to see Lady Tyndall. But meeting her was going to be a bit awkward, given the near certainty that she had lied about Jack’s birth. Dinnertime, with others present, would be more comfortable.

A glance into the drawing room showed only Miller and Gwen, talking quietly by the fire. They didn’t notice her. She went up to her room and started to work on her article, but she couldn’t concentrate. Inevitably, her mind turned to the Tyndalls’ affairs. The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, she reflected. As a threat from God, she had always thought it most unfair, but there was no denying it did seem to happen all too often.

Alec entered the sickroom with misgivings. An interview with a sick or injured man was always difficult. Besides his own natural reluctance to disturb the patient, perhaps to set back his recovery, he was sure to be cut short by the intervention of a nurse or doctor.

Following Alec, Ernie Piper gently closed the door and whipped out his notebook and one of his perpetual supply of well-sharpened pencils.

The nurse stood at the foot of the bed, watchful. Alec sat down at the bedside, leaned forward. Gooch stared at him with a blurry, outof-focus gaze.

“You’re the copper.” His voice was soft, slow, and slurred. “It’s true, ain’t it? Ellie’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“I keep hoping it’s a nightmare, hoping I’ll wake up. I told her we shouldn’t come. I told her it was asking for trouble. She wanted to see her boy, just to see him. Ought to’ve put me foot down, but I never could say no to Ellie.” Tears oozed from under his lids and trickled down, dampening the bandages. “Then we met him, a nice lad, friendly as you please, and nothing would do for her but to tell him she was his mum.”

“You knew that before you came here?”

“She told me before we got married. Fair dinkum she was, my El-lie. But it was me said she ought to talk to his old man first, just to warn him what she was going to do. If I hadn’t . . .” His voice faded, and the nurse made a motion towards Alec, but then Gooch started again, fainter, but determined to tell the story. “It was all his doing, the bastard. Made his lady take the boy for her own. Ellie wouldn’t give him up— the baby— till she heard her ladyship’s own promise to be a good mother to him. Which she was, by all accounts.
Him,
though. Crook, he was, too right, and he killed my Ellie!”