Murder at Merisham Lodge: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 1 (17 page)

Chapter Twenty Three

“That was extremely foolish of you, Miss Hart,” Inspector Marks said sharply, when we were finally all sat down in Mrs Watling’s parlour. “I told you to let my men know as soon as he entered the room. I didn’t expect you to launch some kind of suicidal bid for a confession or I would never have allowed you to do what you did.”

I rubbed my throat. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Humph.” Inspector Marks continued to glare at me for a moment and then his expression softened. “Brave of you, though, Miss Hart. And you, Miss Hunter.”

Verity smiled. “I was going to say I hope I haven’t hurt Mister Duncan too much, but I’m afraid that would be a lie.”

Inspector Mark’s moustache twitched. “He’ll live.”

Mrs Watling put down her empty sherry glass and hurriedly poured herself a replacement. “But what
happened
?” she asked the room in general.

Verity and I looked at the Inspector. He courteously inclined his head. “I think you ladies have earned the floor. For now. Miss Hart, why don’t you start?”

Mr Fenwick, who was sitting in the armchair next to Mrs Anstells, twitched. I think it was at the thought of me, a humble kitchen maid, being allowed to speak freely. I was amazed that he managed to restrain himself from protesting, and that, coupled with a surge of pride, gave me the courage to speak up. I wished my voice just sounded a little firmer and more forthright.

“Well,” I began, hesitatingly. “I’m not really sure why I first started suspecting.” I faltered, then. It was going to be very hard to speak disparagingly about the family in front of the senior staff.

“Go on, Joan,” Verity urged. “You knew as soon as you’d set eyes on Benton and Nora.”

I blushed. I had been hoping to keep Nora’s name, and especially her condition, out of my narrative, but now I could see that that was going to be impossible. I made a mental note to ask the inspector to urge Mrs Anstells not to give her notice, although I couldn’t imagine what was going to become of her. I put that worry to one side for the moment and went on with my speech.

“Well, it suddenly occurred to me that we’d all been thinking that there was just one killer. I was watching…er, Nora and Benton, together at lunch, and despite me knowing of their...er, attachment, even if that had been broken, they acted as if they were invisible to one another. No, not even that, as if they
disliked
one another.” I could see by the looks on Mrs Anstells’ and Mr Fenwick’s faces that they didn’t know what I was talking about. I sighed and elaborated. “Nora and Benton had been romantically involved with one another. But the way they acted around one another was as if they actively disliked one another. It was a smokescreen, to camouflage their real feelings. And even after their affection had been broken, they were still acting like that. I suppose it had become second nature.”

I rubbed my throat again. It still hurt to talk, but I went on. “I suddenly realised, watching them, that I’d seen Duncan and Rosalind act in exactly the same way. They pretended to dislike each other because actually, they felt exactly the opposite but didn’t want anyone to know. Once I’d realised that, it seemed so obvious. There was never just one killer, there were two.”

“Shocking,” said Mrs Anstells. Mr Fenwick said nothing but shook his head in what I took to be silent denigration of the depravity of human beings.

“Once I realised that there were two people involved, and that Benton might have been with Nora on the night that Lady Eveline was murdered, it was easy to look at alibis and realise that Duncan, on that night, and Rosalind on the night that Peter Drew was killed, didn’t actually have watertight alibis after all. Benton lied about his whereabouts because he didn’t want to get into trouble. Just like Gladdie never said anything about what she’d seen Lord Cartwright do the night Lady Alice died.”

“So Duncan killed his stepmother,” said Inspector Marks.

I nodded. “That was the planned killing. I think they killed Peter – I mean, Rosalind killed him – because he’d found out something about the first murder. He was blackmailing Duncan – you remember, Verity, he talked to Dorothy about the money he was coming into?” Verity nodded, her mouth tight. “We thought then it was because he was going to inherit from his mother’s estate, but of course we found out that that wasn’t the case.”

Mrs Watling looked rather sick. She had emptied her second sherry glass. “I would never have believed it. Young Duncan. He was such a sweet little boy. I find it hard to believe he could do such a thing.”

“I’m afraid it’s true,” said Inspector Marks. “He confessed to it. It was a revenge killing, of course. Duncan knew that his father was responsible for the death of his mother, Lady Alice. That must have festered inside him for years, especially when Lord Cartwright married Lady Eveline so quickly after Lady Alice’s death.”

“Is that what he meant when he said ‘she killed my mother’?” I asked. “Lady Eveline?”

The inspector shrugged. “No doubt that’s what he thought – that Lady Eveline was in on the plot with his father. It could be true. It could be false. I suppose unless Lord Cartwright comes clean, we might never know.”

“Revenge,” Mrs Watling said, shaking her head. “What a terrible thing.”

“It wasn’t just that,” said Verity. We all looked at her. She smoothed a wisp of hair back from her face and went on speaking. “Joan and I think Duncan and Rosalind had a much more prosaic reason.”

“What is that?” Mrs Watling asked, looking as if she might faint at the thought of an even more depraved motive being revealed.

Verity looked sad. “Money. Duncan knew that if his father were hanged for murder, he would inherit everything. The title, the properties, the land, the whole estate. Then he and Rosalind could do what they liked.”

I was nodding. I had known there was a reason that the wills in this case had seemed so important.

Mrs Anstells looked very disapproving. “I cannot believe, Inspector, that you allowed this young girl to put herself in terrible danger. I find it difficult to accept that the police force allow such unorthodox methods.”

The inspector looked amused. “Well, I don’t get results by being particularly orthodox, my dear Mrs Anstells. But you’re right. I would never have allowed Miss Hart here to go so far in the pursuit of justice if I’d known what she was about.”

The four elders looked severely at both me and Verity. I kept my face straight but I could hear Verity’s thoughts as clearly as if she were shouting them in my ear. I didn’t dare look at her for bursting out laughing.

“It was very forward indeed of you, Joan,” said Mr Fenwick, his eyebrows bristling. Then he sighed. “Although we’re none of us quite ourselves at the moment. It’s been such an unsettled time.”

“I should be very sorry to lose Joan,” Mrs Watling said unexpectedly. “She’s an enormous help to me.”

I held my breath. Was I about to be dismissed? Was Mrs Watling softening the blow?

“Well, there won’t be any question of her leaving,” Mr Fenwick said, sounding rather grumpy about it. “Although, Joan, I hope we never see or hear of you making such a spectacle of yourself ever again. Your place depends on it.”

“I understand, sir,” I said, trying to sound as demure and respectful as possible.

“The same goes for you, Verity,” said Mr Fenwick, glaring at her from under his brows.

“Yes, sir.” Verity looked as innocent as it was possible for her to look.

“Well,” said the inspector. He took his hat in his hand and made to stand up. “I hope that this will be the last time we meet, Miss Hart and Miss Hunter.” He straightened the sleeve of his suit jacket and shot us both a glance. “But I do wonder. I’ll see myself out, Fenwick, and leave you in peace. Hopefully this will be the end to it and you can all get back to normal now.”

Later, Verity and I stood at the edge of the terrace, looking out at the gardens. It was a damp, dreary, misty sort of day with little ribbons of mist hanging about the trees. I thought I should be feeling exhilarated, or at least glad, but, truth be told, I felt sort of empty. Sort of flat. I suppose I was just exhausted. My throat really hurt.

“You know what the inspector said about getting back to normal?” asked Verity.

I looked at her. “Yes?”

“Well, it’s not really going to happen, is it? I mean, the only one left of the family now is Dorothy, and she won’t want to stay
here
. Too many bad memories.”

“True,” I agreed. “So, it’s back to London for us, I suppose?”

“I suppose so. Until everything gets settled.”

I sighed. “Another court case.”

Verity gave me a nudge with her elbow. “If you want to avoid the court cases, Joanie, you’ve got to stop catching criminals.”

I laughed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

We stood silently for a moment, looking out at the dripping verdure. I wondered if Verity was running our recent conversation with the inspector through her mind, just as I was. Something occurred to me.

“Oh, V, what are we going to do about Nora? How can we help her?”

Verity gave me a glance I couldn’t interpret. “Don’t worry, Joanie. I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

“In what way?”

Verity patted my hand. “Don’t you worry about it.” She hesitated and then said “I’ve spoken to Dorothy about it and she’s agreed to help her.”

“
Dorothy
has?” I couldn’t understand it.

Verity nodded. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to convince Mrs Anstells to keep Nora on, but we can certainly help with the...the other situation.” I didn’t really understand what she meant, although I had an inkling.

“Is Dorothy very angry at her?” I asked.

Verity shook her head. “Let’s just say she…sympathises.”

I turned a shocked face to Verity, who smiled and then shook her head very slightly, letting me understand she wouldn’t say any more.

I understood and nodded. We stood there for a moment longer in silence, busy with our own thoughts. Then Verity shivered. “I’ll be glad to get back to the old Smoke,” she said.

“Yes?” I wasn’t so sure, myself. Much as my time at Merisham Lodge had been fraught with danger and distress, I would miss the countryside.

Verity shivered again, theatrically. “Yes. It’s too bloody dangerous in the countryside.”

I laughed. Then I tucked my arm around hers. “Come on. Let’s get a cup of tea before we start work again.”

“Good idea.” She gave my arm an answering squeeze and we began to walk back to the kitchens, leaving the gardens behind us.

THE END

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Requiem (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 2)

When the body of troubled teenager Elodie Duncan is pulled from the river in Abbeyford, the case is at first assumed to be a straightforward suicide. Detective Sergeant Kate Redman is shocked to discover that she’d met the victim the night before her death, introduced by Kate’s younger brother Jay. As the case develops, it becomes clear that Elodie was murdered. A talented young musician, Elodie had been keeping some strange company and was hiding her own dark secrets. 
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A Prescription for Death (The Asharton Manor Mysteries: Book 2) – a novella

“I had a surge of kinship the first time I saw the manor, perhaps because we’d both seen better days.” 
It is 1947. Asharton Manor, once one of the most beautiful stately homes in the West Country, is now a convalescent home for former soldiers. Escaping the devastation of post-war London is Vivian Holt, who moves to the nearby village and begins to volunteer as a nurse’s aide at the manor. Mourning the death of her soldier husband, Vivian finds solace in her new friendship with one of the older patients, Norman Winter, someone who has served his country in both world wars. Slowly, Vivian’s heart begins to heal, only to be torn apart when she arrives for work one day to be told that Norman is dead. 
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A Blessing From The Obeah Man

Dare you read on? Horrifying, scary, sad and thought-provoking, this short story collection will take you on a macabre journey. In the titular story, a honeymooning couple take a wrong turn on their trip around Barbados. The Mourning After brings you a shivery story from a suicidal teenager. In Freedom Fighter, an unhappy middle-aged man chooses the wrong day to make a bid for freedom, whereas Little Drops of Happiness and Wave Goodbye are tales of darkness from sunny Down Under. Strapping Lass and The Club are for those who prefer, shall we say, a little meat to the story…

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