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Authors: Carola Dunn

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BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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“Oh yes, I'd forgotten.”
Piper paused in his scribbling to ask, “Miss Jemima went to bed earlier then?”
“Yes,” said Daisy. “She's always sent to bed at half past nine.”
“Anyway, neither has an alibi,” Alec said impatiently. “Nor do Miles and Tremayne, though they shared a room. I would judge all four to be robust enough for the effort involved.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Godfrey?” asked Tom. “Do they have separate rooms?”
“No, they're together, but she claims she took a sleeping powder and he confirms it. So either she's out of it, or he's lying to protect her. Would you say she's physically capable, Daisy?”
“I should think so. I don't know if he'd lie for her, though. He's pretty self-centred.”
“You're telling me!” Piper exclaimed. “The way he took himself off when everyone else was fussing over Miss Norville!”
“Did he?”
“Yes, soon as the Chief moved away from the door, he sloped off. I would've stopped him, but I reckoned he wouldn't go far.”
“Back to his antiques, no doubt,” Daisy said tartly. “Anyway, he vouches for Dora, but she can't return the compliment. Who else?”
“The captain,” said Alec. “He had a room of his own. And the old lady.”
“Mrs. Norville doesn't look strong enough to walk that far,” Piper objected, “let alone stab a man when she got there.”
“She's not as frail as she looks,” Daisy said, “but that would be a bit much for her, don't you think, Chief? In the dark, on those slippery paths?”
“I'm prepared to write off Mrs. Norville,” Alec conceded. “That's the lot for alibis, or lack thereof, Ernie. Got it all down? Let's get on to motive. We've already covered Miss Norville. Can anyone think of a motive for Miles strong enough to overcome his obvious interest in having Calloway testify to his grandmother's marriage?”
Daisy shook her head, her shingled curls bobbing like a bronze chrysanthemum in a breeze. “He's not so dedicated to his profession as to kill rather than give it up to be an earl. And he appeared to be mildly amused by Calloway's diatribes, not particularly resentful, let alone furiously angry.”
“The servants say he's a good-tempered chap,” Tom reported, “though he's got some pretty funny ideas about Germans. But I gather that's on the lines of ‘Forgive them that trespass against you,' not shell-shock and thinking he's surrounded by enemies.”
“I've seen no signs of shell-shock,” Alec agreed. He remembered the German carol Miles had sung so earnestly, and his forbearance with Cedric, whom he had every reason to abhor. “And he's not the vengeful sort. To continue with the young people, what did the servants have to say about Miss Jemima, Tom?”
“Spiteful. Cantankerous. Holds a grudge. Sneaky—she's been seen listening at doors.”
“She makes a habit of it,” said Daisy, her cheeks rather pink. Alec guessed she'd done a spot of eavesdropping herself, all in a good cause, of course. “I caught her at the squint in the South Room listening to Godfrey and Victor squabbling in the Hall.”
“Squint?” Piper's busy pencil paused.
Daisy explained the mediaeval peepholes, which Alec hadn't got around to viewing. He was more interested in the squabble.
“You haven't mentioned a quarrel before. What were they arguing about?”
“Sorry, darling, I kept meaning to tell you, but other things got in the way. It didn't seem vital because I didn't hear what they were saying. Or rather, shouting. Jemima wouldn't tell me. I dare say it hadn't anything to do with Calloway. The captain told me Godfrey refuses to accept any funds to help the family make ends meet, so it was probably about that.”
“Possibly, but I'd like to be sure. If I can't get a straight tale from Jemima, I'll try the combatants themselves. Remind me, Ernie.”
“Right, Chief.”
“Where were we? Jemima and motive. She felt Calloway was spoiling Christmas, and she tried to drive him away
with a stupid trick. He won that encounter and got her into trouble with her parents, so she then had a double grudge against him.”
“She hated him,” said Daisy bluntly, “and she has a temper, though I doubt she could sustain it through a cold, dark walk in the woods. And I'm not convinced the idea of cold-blooded murder would cross her mind as a way to get rid of Calloway. She's very naive and childish. She'd be more likely to tie a string across the stairs, hoping he'd break a leg, not even thinking it could be his neck. Besides, she must have been aware that he had come to Brockdene to benefit her family, including her father, who seems to be the only person she's at all fond of.”
“Objections noted,” Alec said, “but Jemima had the motive, and in my opinion lacks the sense and maturity to foresee the consequences. What about her mother? That's Mrs. Godfrey Norville, Ernie. Tom?”
“Well-meaning but useless, Chief. By which I take it they mean ineffectual.”
“Take care, your superior vocabulary is showing through.”
Tom grinned. He was superb at questioning servants but quite capable of coping with the gentry if necessary. Like his taste in clothes, his usually plebeian speech tended to make people underestimate him. “Mrs. Godfrey's never been able to control her children,” he continued, “and she's had no help from Mr. Godfrey.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Daisy asked rhetorically, with what might have been a snort if she had not been too much a lady to make any such sound. “Dora would have been sorry to leave Brockdene, but she'd hardly …”
“What?” Alec snapped.
“She told me that as a girl she'd always admired Brockdene from afar, and she considers it a privilege to live here. I've wondered if that's why she married Godfrey. But she'd hardly go so far as murdering a clergyman so as to stay here, especially as …”
“But why should she leave?”
“Oh dear,” Daisy said guiltily, “I've only just thought of it. It's the sixth earl's will. Mrs. Norville has life tenancy of Brockdene, but only as long as she doesn't kick up a dust trying to prove she really was married to Albert.”
“Which is exactly what Victor, with Calloway's aid, was about to do.”
“I wouldn't have thought the present earl would be so beastly as to throw them out—
noblesse oblige
, after all—if it wasn't for how he treated Mother. But if what I've been told is correct, he'd have had the right to evict them all as soon as the captain started the ball rolling. Of course, when Mrs. Norville dies the rest will have to leave anyway. They'll go and live with Tremayne, I suppose.”
“From what I've heard,” said Tom, “Mr. Tremayne's often here, and they all get on pretty well with him. It don't sound to me like Mrs. Godfrey would kill to avoid going back to live with her pa, 'specially if she's going to have to in the end, come what may. And the same goes for the rest of 'em.”
“Tremayne may not care to have to support them any sooner than absolutely necessary,” Alec mused, “but again, it's hardly a motive for murder.”
“The captain told me he and Tremayne are quite ready and able to keep them in comfort,” Daisy recalled. “Also, Miles will soon start earning his living. Godfrey won't like
having to depend on them, but as Tom said, it's going to happen in the end, come what may.”
“That's a wash-out as a motive then,” said Alec. “I can't conceive of any other motive for Tremayne. He didn't seem particularly upset by Calloway's zealotry, would you say, Daisy?”
“Mmm? Sorry, I was thinking.”
“Calloway's maunderings didn't incense Tremayne.”
“Oh, no, not particularly. It was Jemima and the captain who got really upset.”
“Yes,” Alec agreed, “and what upset the captain was the possibility that Calloway's disapproval was strong enough to persuade him to refuse to testify to the wedding after all.”
“Ah.” Tom ruminated for a moment. “You said that's what he went to pray about, Chief? Seems to me likely what happened is Captain Norville went after him to find out what he'd decided to do. The captain has a temper? Quick to heat and quick to cool, they say.”
“He does.”
“So the reverend gentleman says, ‘Sorry, mate, it's off'—doesn't even bother to turn around to speak to him, to add insult to injury—and the captain blows up and sticks the knife in him.”
“The question here, Tom, is that if the captain killed Calloway on the spur of the moment, in a fit of temper, what was he doing with the knife?”
“That's easy, Chief. It's a seaman's knife, right? Captain Victor Norville's a seaman. Here he is off out into the woods in the dark, prob'ly scarier to him than being on deck in a hurricane. His eye lights on the knife as he goes through the hall. He's used to carrying one just like it. So
he picks it up just in case he meets any of those escaped convicts or lunatics, or deserters, or just plain tramps. When he loses his temper, there's the knife to hand—and quick as winking, there's Calloway dying.”
B
elinda was getting just a bit tired of being a detective. She walked along rustling her feet through the dead leaves, wondering if Daddy really liked being a detective all the time. Not that he spent much time searching the woods for rags and bones, as far as she could see.
So far on their second hunt, she and Derek and Nana hadn't found anything except two empty beer bottles. Nana kept finding sticks she thought were interesting and bringing them to Bel or Derek to throw. Here she came now, dragging a bit of branch so big she couldn't pick it up and had to pull backwards. Derek started a tug of war with her. Belinda thought he was getting rather bored with being a detective, too, though he wouldn't admit it.
She watched them. That was when she saw, where Nana's feet scuffed up the leaves, something gleaming.
“Stop! Look!” she cried, running forward to pick it up. When she turned it back and forth in her hand, it sparkled, even though the sun had gone in. It looked like a shoe buckle, all covered with glittering stones.
“Crikey,” breathed Derek, awed, “diamonds! It must be pirate treasure.”
“They had smugglers here, not pirates,” Bel objected.
“I bet they had pirates, too. I bet they were friends with the smugglers. Anyway, I bet the smugglers got rich enough to put diamonds on their shoes, just to show off.”
“Do you think they're really diamonds? If someone lost that many diamonds they'd search and search till they found it.”
Derek took it from her and twisted it back and forth. “They must be diamonds. Look how they shine, and they're not coloured like rubies and emeralds.”
“They could be imitations, you know, like the diamonds we saw in the Natural History Museum. My gran has a hat brooch that's all sparkly like this, but she says it's diamanté, not real diamonds.”
“Oh well,” Derek sighed, “maybe. But it could be real and anyway I bet it's an important clue. We'd better keep it safe. Here, you can keep it in your pocket,” he said generously. “But if Uncle Alec doesn't need it for evidence, we can use it for pirate treasure. Let's play pirates after we've finished looking for clues. I'll tell you what, I'd like to make Jemima walk the plank.”
From behind a nearby tree came a screech. Jemima jumped out, shouting, “I heard what you said! That's murder ! I bet you murdered Mr. Calloway, too! I'm going to tell.” She ran away towards the garden gate.
“Crikey!” said Derek, looking a bit scared. “I didn't really mean it.”
“Never mind, Daddy won't believe her. Come on, let's find some more … Look, Nana's got something. Nana, come!”
Nana wouldn't come. When Belinda tried her newly learnt whistle no sound came out of her lips, however hard she blew, but anyway, the puppy took no notice of Derek's ear-splitting whistle. She bounded off with something long and dirty white dangling from her mouth. The children ran after her. When she got far enough ahead to feel safe, she lay down for a good chew. Derek crept up on her and pounced. She gave up the object without a struggle, rolling over on her back for a tummy rub.
Derek held up her find; white artificial silk with lace trimmings. “What is it?” he asked blankly.
Belinda giggled. “Cami-knickers! How ever did they get here?” Then she had a sudden awful, terrible thought. “Oh, Derek, you don't think the murderer killed a lady too and buried her in the woods?”
“'Course not. No ladies are missing, are they?” He glanced behind him, but not as if he thought a murderer was creeping up behind him; more as if he wanted to make sure no one was listening. “There are bad women,” he whispered, “who go into the woods with a man and
get naked.
I heard them talking about it at school.”
“Why?” Belinda asked sceptically.
“I 'spect they dance. Men like to watch ladies dancing with not much clothes on,” Derek said, in a very superior voice. “Gosh, Bel, you don't think this is Aunt Felicity's?”
The idea sent them both into whoops.
Meanwhile Nana, deprived of the cami-knickers, had wandered off sniffing. Now she came bouncing back and deposited yet another treasure at their feet. Bel picked it up.
“It's the other glove of that pair.”
“What pair?”
“The pair we found the other one of before, 'member?”
“Oh, the mitten.” Derek frowned. “Yes, but it wasn't in the stuff we showed your father. We didn't stick it in the dust-bin, did we?”
“I don't think so. I don't think we would've. Nana prob'ly ran off with it and buried it.”
“Stupid dog. Let's see.” He took the dampish mitten and examined it. It was striped blue and grey, with a brown stain along the side of the hand. “Blood!” he said ghoulishly.
“It's not red.”
“No, but it wouldn't be. Remember when you get a cut or a graze and they put a sticking-plaster on you, and when they take it off it's bloody inside and it's brown.”
“I don't look,” said Belinda.
“Well it is,” Derek insisted. “And look, the rest isn't dirty at all, so it hasn't been here very long. We'd better take this to Uncle Alec right away. And the cami-whatsit just in case no one's noticed she's missing yet. You can carry that. And the shoe buckle in case it's hers and she was murdered by a robber. Come on!”
 
“So you think Captain Norville is our man, Tom?” Alec asked.
“Aye, Chief, and I'm sorry for it. He seems like a nice enough chap, good to his ma and all. Given time enough to think, I dare say he'd have remembered there was nothing to stop him trying to change Calloway's mind. After all, he didn't gain anything by killing him. I'd say he must've regretted it at once.”
“Too late. One way or another, I'm afraid the accessibility of that knife was probably a deciding factor. What do you think, Daisy?”
“Uh?”
“Haven't you been listening?” Alec was rather peeved. Daisy insisted on involving herself. Admittedly she was occasionally helpful, but surely the least she could do was listen!
“No, sorry, darling, I was thinking.”
“About Captain Norville?”
“The captain?” she asked, astonished. “Good heavens, no.”
“Tom has just presented a very convincing case against him.”
“Oh no. Sorry, Tom, but it wasn't him. That is, I've been thinking, and I'm fairly certain …”
“Daddy!” Belinda burst in, excitedly interrupting with no trace of her usual well-behaved diffidence. (Was Daisy having a bad influence on her, as Alec's mother kept insinuating?) She was waving a soiled white object—Great Scott, an intimate garment! Piper blushed.
Derek followed Bel, no less precipitately. “We've found a Real Clue!” he announced. “Look!” He dropped a woollen mitten on the table in front of Alec.
“It's another one like the other one we found. Derek thinks it's got blood on it.”
“And it's quite clean otherwise so someone dropped it not very long ago. We had the other one, too, Uncle Alec, but we're awfully afraid Nana must have buried it, or chewed it up, or something. Is it blood, d'you think?”
Alec examined the rusty brown patch. “It could be,” he admitted cautiously and passed the glove to Tom.
Tom took out his magnifying glass, at once aweing and delighting Derek, who held his breath, waiting for the verdict.
“I'd say so, Chief. It'd have to go to the lab boys to make sure, of course.”
“Where did you find it?”
“We were near the path, Daddy, the one that goes to the chapel.”
“Not far from the chapel, but actually we didn't find it ourselves. Nana brought it to us, but I don't think she'd gone very far, so it was quite near where we were. We could show you where we were, couldn't we, Bel? Bel said we must notice the trees and remember exactly.”
“Well done, Belinda.”
His daughter's freckles vanished in a tide of red. “Is it a real clue, Daddy?”
“It very well may be.”
“It is,” Daisy said positively. “Darling, I rather think it would be a good idea if the children took Mr. Piper to see whereabouts Nana found it.”
Alec assumed she wanted the children out of the way while she expounded her theory. It wouldn't hurt to have Ernie go and make a note of the spot, just in case the mitten turned out to be significant. The possible bloodstain was along the little-finger edge of the hand, away from the thumb, in exactly the right place, assuming the murderer had held the knife in his fist to strike downward.
“Detective Constable Piper, proceed to the woods near the scene of the crime with our two witnesses to mark and make a note of the area they point out to you as the vicinity where the evidence was discovered.”
“Yessir!”
“Gosh!” breathed Derek blissfully.
“May Nana come too, Daddy? We left her in the scullery 'cause we didn't know where you were.”
“No, pet, better leave her behind this time. This is official police business.”
“Gosh!” said Derek again, and he and Belinda went off with Ernie Piper.
“I suppose they
are
witnesses,” Daisy said, frowning. “Will they have to give evidence in court?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Alec assured her. “A sworn deposition should do. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. What makes you think this dog-bedrooled object is important?”
Daisy answered him with another question. “Do you recall seeing its mate among the debris Bel and Derek showed you before?”
“No. Did they invent it?”
“Tom, you looked before they threw the least promising rubbish away. Did you see the other mitten?”
“No, Mrs. Fletcher,” Tom said positively.
“Well, I did. Nana was carrying it, and she laid it at my feet as she did this one with the children.”
“And then she took it away and buried it,” Alec presumed.
“I don't believe so. She ran off with some other rag which appealed to her more. And I think—I'm pretty sure—the mitten disappeared while Bel and Derek were chasing her.”
“Pouf, into thin air!”
“Sarcasm does not become you, darling, as my old Nanny used to say. No, as it happens, Jemima was lurking nearby at the time, pouring cold water—scorn, that is—on
the children's clues. I was watching them, not her. I believe she recognized the mitten, which she herself had knitted, and pinched it.”
“You think Jemima killed Calloway?”
“It's possible of course,” Daisy said slowly, “but no, I don't think so. She made the mittens for her father. I think she was protecting him.”
“Very well,” said Alec, his scepticism slipping, “let's hear your theory.”
“Right-oh,” said Daisy, pleased with her attentive audience. “It all goes back to when I arrived at Brockdene. Gosh, it feels like months ago, but it's less than a week. Godfrey was actually the first of the Norvilles I met.”
She recalled following the boy with her bags under the entrance tower. When she had emerged into the Hall Court, he had disappeared and she had found herself faced with a plethora of doors.
“I went to the door of the old Hall by mistake,” she said. “Godfrey opened it. Even before he introduced himself, he told me he had devoted his life to studying the history of the house and its contents. He seemed to think it natural that Westmoor's staff should take care of the antiques while refusing to serve the residents. When he rang the bell for the housekeeper to come and look after me, he had no expectation of its being heeded. And when Mrs. Pardon did come, his first thought was to complain of some tarnish he'd detected on the suit of armour.”
“Ah,” said Tom sagely. In Piper's absence, he was making notes.
Daisy realized that she was not merely propounding a theory, she was giving direct evidence which might have to be given again in court. She didn't have to explain her conclusions.
Both Tom and Alec were obviously drawing their own.
Alec, his brows knit, nodded to her to go on.
“The mittens come next. I decided to take some photos of the exterior while the sun was shining. Godfrey agreed to go with me to tell me what I was looking at, but before he would set foot out of doors, he sent Jemima to fetch his coat and hat and gloves and galoshes. It was a mild, dry day and he was already wearing a woolly waistcoat and muffler. I was quite warm enough in my costume, without my coat, let alone gloves and a hat, and Jemima just had a light cardigan over her blouse. In fact, it was warmer out than in. Before Mother arrived, the fires were positively miserly.”
BOOK: Mistletoe and Murder
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