Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) (21 page)

“I’ll need to have my men take your fingerprints, sir,” the inspector said. “In fact, I’ll need fingerprints from everyone in this room.”

“Outrageous,” the dowager duchess said. “Do we look like the sort of people who go around sticking knives into people? My sisters and I are elderly ladies. Even if we were murderously inclined, I hardly think that we possess that kind of strength.”

“A matter of formality, Your Grace,” Fairbotham said. “This young man has told me that you took the knife from him and then made him put it in the tack room. So one might expect to find your fingerprints on the knife handle. And if this blade is as sharp as I think it is, then it would not take a great deal of strength to stab someone—especially if you were lucky enough to penetrate between the ribs.”

“Goodness me.” Princess Charlotte fanned herself again. “In my young days, one did not discuss this sort of thing, especially the mention of body parts in front of ladies.”

“I take it you’d like to find out who murdered your nephew, Princess,” the inspector said.

“Of course I would, but surely it can’t be anyone here.”

“I agree with my sister,” Edwina said. “You should be out asking questions of the estate workers and in the village, and if you’re looking for things like fingerprints, then are you being equally diligent about finding telltale footprints?”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “Take a look at my boots. I bet you don’t see too many like them around here. Proper Aussie stockman’s boots. Go and take a look at that body and tell me if you see my footprints anywhere around.”

“As to that, sir,” the inspector said, “the stream has been washing over the footpath, probably spoiling any footprints we might have found. And I have already been told that you are an expert at throwing a knife—just like William Tell, I believe that young man said. You could have followed the duke and struck him down from a distance.” He looked around the assembled company. “If you’ll all stay exactly where you are, I’ll have my constable bring in the fingerprint kit. I assure you it’s quite painless and will only take a moment.”

And with that, he made a grand exit from the room.

Chapter 24

Edwina was the first to speak. “If it’s John’s knife, of course his fingerprints will be on it. What does that silly man think he is going to prove?”

“I think he wants everyone’s fingerprints to rule out those known to have touched the knife,” Darcy replied.

“I touched it,” Nick said, looking rather proud of himself. “Jack was showing me how to throw it. So my fingerprints will be on it, won’t they?”

“I think it’s high time you children were back in the nursery.” Irene looked around nervously. “You’ve been down here long enough and this discussion is unsuitable for young ears. And you two already have too many ghoulish tendencies.”

“Do you want us up in the schoolroom by ourselves?” Kat said. “We could get into all sorts of mischief with Mr. Carter’s science experiments if he’s not there.”

“Then I will have to tell Mr. Carter that in future all your science should come from books, not experiments, if you can’t be trusted,” Irene said smoothly. “Is that what you want?”

“No, Mama,” the twins muttered in unison.

“Then off you go, and I expect to be able to trust you not to get up to any mischief. Your grandmother and I have enough to worry about at this moment.”

The twins got up and left the room, rather in shock at their mother’s firmness, I thought. Sissy continued to sit unnoticed on the far side of the fireplace, staring at the rain streaking the windowpanes and occasionally glancing across at Jack, whose own gaze was fixed on the pattern on the Persian rug. A constable arrived, pulled over a side table and began taking fingerprints.

When it was Belinda’s turn, she stared at her hands in disgust. “How horrid,” she said. “You know, I think it was a silly mistake to have come here in the first place, and it’s clearly going to be no fun with the police all over the place. I may just toddle off back to London, darling.”

She thinks that Jack is guilty, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. And she did have a point. He appeared to have a perfect motive, and the opportunity and skill to carry it out.

She turned to the police constable. “Now that you have ruined my fingers with that nasty black stuff, I presume I’m free to leave. There really is no reason for my staying here any longer, you know. I only came to return a lost shoe to Lady Georgiana, and I have absolutely no connections to this family.”

“What do you mean?” Edwina’s voice boomed down the Long Gallery. “Have you forgotten your great-aunt Primrose? We are related, are we not, through your great-aunt? Besides, I should have thought that your friendship with Cedric might provide most valuable information to the police. The rest of us know nothing about his life in London. You may be able to shed light on who might have had a genuine motive to want Cedric dead. So please sit down again.”

She was so forceful in her delivery that Belinda sat. I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance and giving her a grin. It wasn’t often that one saw Belinda unable to talk herself out of an awkward situation. I must say, I was rather enjoying her discomfort. She had become too used to gaining entry under false pretenses. Maybe this would teach her a lesson.

Darcy was obviously thinking along the same lines. “The rats are trying to leave the sinking ship,” he muttered to me under his breath.

I nodded. Silence resumed as the police constable gathered up his fingerprint kit and left, his big boots echoing loudly across the parquet floor.

I leaned close to Darcy and whispered, “I need to talk to you. Something doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“A lot of things, but especially that knife left in Cedric’s back. I suppose there’s no chance that you can go and take a look at the body for yourself, is there?”

“I can hardly go out there now with the police milling around, can I? Besides, what would I see that you haven’t already seen?”

“I’d just like confirmation that something wasn’t right,” I said. “There was something about the way he was lying that didn’t add up—apart from his coat being draped over his body, I mean.”

Darcy glanced out of the window. “I don’t really see how I could slip away at this moment without it looking suspicious. And I expect the body has already been put into a police van by now.”

“You’re not being very helpful.” I stood up. “I’m going to have a word with the inspector.”

Darcy put his hand over mine. “Is that wise? Shouldn’t we just let the police go about their business?”

“Not if they are going to get it wrong,” I said. Conscious of all the eyes on me, I went over to the chief inspector, who was hovering in the background.

“Might I have a word with you?” I said, and led him out of hearing range of the others.

“Well?” he asked.

“That young man may be uncouth and naïve,” I said, “but he’s definitely not stupid. If he had wanted to kill his cousin, he could well have stabbed him with his knife, but would he leave the knife in Cedric’s back? Especially a knife so easily identifiable as his?”

“We’ve already heard how skilled he is at throwing a knife. Perhaps he threw it, struck his uncle down then heard someone coming and didn’t have time to retrieve it,” he said.

“But the body was covered with Cedric’s jacket,” I said. “If he had time to do that, he’d have had time to remove the knife.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “That is strange, isn’t it? I’ve wondered about that coat. Why would anyone want to cover the top half of a body but leave it there on the path in full view for anyone to see? And, as you say, leaving the knife in its back?”

“My guess would be that the person wanted the body to be found and wanted to make us think that Jack did it,” I said.

“Thus getting rid of the duke and his heir at the same time?” the chief inspector said thoughtfully. “So who would be next in line if they both went?”

“Nobody. I’ve been told that the title would die out and that the estate would probably revert to the crown.”

“You mean the king would get all this lot?”

“I believe so. I understand the title was created to include a land grant from the sovereign—which means the crown can take it back if the title no longer exists. That was the usual way things were done in the old days.”

Chief Inspector Fairbotham sucked through his teeth. “So the old biddies would lose their home?”

“And Irene and her children.”

He sighed. “So none of them would want to change the status quo.”

“Exactly.”

“Then we’re back to square one,” he said, “unless your boy Jack is cleverer than you think. What if he really did kill the duke but made it so obvious and blundering that we’d come to the conclusion he couldn’t possibly have done it?”

“That’s possible too, I suppose,” I had to admit. “But I’m sure that coat is important. Why would Jack cover the body with a coat? Why would anyone? If the murderer wanted to hide the body, he could have dragged it into the nearest bushes. It was just as obvious with a coat over it.”

“Unless he wasn’t strong enough to move the body,” the inspector said. “Or
she
wasn’t strong enough.”

We stared at each other, digesting this. I remembered that Edwina had said she would do anything to stop Cedric from making Marcel his heir. But surely she would never resort to killing her own son?

“There is one other thing,” I said tentatively. “Remember I mentioned to you that the duke went out early to post a letter. And when I last spoke to you, the letter hadn’t been found.”

“That is correct,” he said.

“Now I think this letter might be important,” I went on. “He insisted on posting it himself, which is unusual in a house like this, where such a task could easily be handled by servants. Maybe it was important enough that someone killed him to prevent him from posting it.”

“Go on,” he said.

Emboldened by his apparent interest, I began to speak more freely. “Of course it’s possible that he had already gone as far as the postbox and was returning when he met his killer. Might I suggest that you have your men inquire at the post office whether the postman picked up a letter from the duke this morning and to whom it was addressed? I’m sure it would have been noticed because very few letters would find their way to an out-of-the-way postbox in a small lane. And the envelope would have had the Eynsford crest on the back. Postmen notice things like that.”

The chief inspector nodded. “Might be worth following up on. I thank you for your insights, my lady. But my money is still on the Australian boy. If we find a nice, clean set of his prints on the knife handle, over any other prints, then I’m making an arrest. I don’t care if he is a ruddy duke.”

He broke off as one of his constables approached us. “I was asked to tell you that the MO has taken the body, guv. And Phelps has finished with the fingerprinting. I suppose you want to be there when we have a go at the knife? Are we going to take the evidence back to HQ?”

“Of course I want to be there,” the inspector snapped. “I’ll find out where the old lady will let us set up shop and get to work. I don’t fancy going all the way back to Sevenoaks.”

“What about something to eat, sir?” the constable asked. “It’s getting close to dinnertime. Can me and the lads pop to a pub in the village?”

“Let’s see if they’re going to feed us here. I’m not wasting an hour with you lot strolling to the village and having a good pub lunch. Perhaps their cook can make us some sandwiches.”

“Very good, sir.” The young constable looked deflated, as if sandwiches would be a poor alternative to a good meat pie or bangers and mash. I was hesitating, not sure that our conversation was at an end or what it might have achieved. When the chief inspector started back toward the group around the fireplace, I followed him.

“Well?” Edwina asked. “Are we to be kept here all day? Are my staff still prisoners of your men in the servants’ hall? Our luncheon hour is rapidly approaching, and I can’t expect Cook to work miracles in five minutes.”

“So sorry to have kept you, Your Grace,” he said. I wasn’t sure whether it was meant to be sarcastic. “But I don’t think I’ll need you anymore—for the time being. And my sergeant should have got a statement from each of your servants by now. So you’re free to go about your business—only nobody is to think of leaving the premises.”

“Very well,” Edwina said. “Please be kind enough to send me my butler so that we can return this house to normal. I’ve already had to endure cold coffee this morning.”

“And given the number of rooms there are in this house, perhaps you can suggest one that I might use for my headquarters? Preferably one with a telephone in it?”

Edwina bristled. I could tell she really didn’t want to have Chief Inspector Fairbotham setting up shop in her home, but given the fact that she did have many surplus rooms, she couldn’t think of a good excuse for his not staying. “I suppose you might use my son’s study,” she said grudgingly. “There is a telephone extension in there, although of course it connects to the main telephone in the front hall, and I couldn’t guarantee that your calls would necessarily be confidential.”

The chief inspector chuckled. “What with old biddies listening in at the exchange, there is no such thing as a confidential telephone call,” he said. “But I thank you for the offer of your son’s study. It has a nice, big desk we’ll find useful.” He started to leave then turned back again. “And one more thing. My men will want something to eat about now. They’ll obviously get things done faster if they don’t have to go down to the local pub. Might there be a chance your cook can find enough to feed them with your servants?”

“The sooner you ascertain that my cook has been released from your man’s questioning, the sooner we can all eat,” Edwina said. “I expect there will be enough food for your men—for you too, Chief Inspector. We do not stint ourselves here at Kingsdowne.” I noticed she had put him firmly in the same category as household staff. There was no indication that he should eat with us. He would have to rise to chief constable before that might happen.

“Very good of you, Your Grace,” he muttered. “I’ll go and find my sergeant right away.”

And off he stomped. As soon as he was out of earshot, Edwina stood up and came over to me.

“What were you saying to the inspector, Georgiana?” she demanded. “If you have your suspicions, I would request that you share them with the rest of us.”

“No suspicions, Your Grace,” I said. “I was suggesting that the inspector put renewed efforts to tracing the missing letter. If your son thought it important enough that he wanted to post it personally, then I feel that is the key to why he was killed.”

“I’m afraid we must presume that it was to our solicitor, instructing him to set up this ridiculous adoption process for his valet—absolutely absurd, as I’m sure the solicitor will tell him. I can’t think what other matter would have been so pressing as to make him walk across the grounds in the rain. Cedric never was one for healthy outdoor activities.” She stood staring out of the window. Then she sighed. “Well, I see no reason why we should not go in to luncheon at the usual hour, although heaven knows what Cook will have been able to prepare with policemen tramping all over the place. I rather fear we’ll have to settle for something rather plain. Ring for Huxstep and tell him we wish to eat now, John.”