Rules of Murder (17 page)

“Oh, I didn’t lock the door,” Rushford said, struggling to get out of the car again, but Drew pushed him back into the seat.

“It’s a bit late to worry over that now.”

“Oh dear,” Rushford moaned.

“Don’t you mind, sir,” Drew soothed. “The inspector will see that this all gets put right before long. And I have an idea or two of my own.”

Rushford didn’t say anything more, but he did not look at all convinced.

Drew made the trip back to Farthering Place as quick and easy as possible. Rushford wasn’t disposed to saying much and understandably so. Drew didn’t press him. He had enough to think over as it was.

Denny must have been watching for them. He came out to the car the moment they pulled into the drive.

“Good evening, Mr. Rushford. Good evening, sir.”

“Hullo, Denny.” Drew hopped out of the car and went around to open Rushford’s door. “Listen, Mr. Rushford here has been knocked about rather badly at the office tonight.”

“Yes, sir. So Mr. Parker informed me.”

“He’s going to stay on at Farthering a few days. Where shall I put him?”

“It’s being seen to, sir. Perhaps Mr. Rushford would care to have coffee in the parlor until his room can be arranged?”

“Capital.” Drew helped the old man to his feet. “Come through
here, sir. We’ll soon have you settled in. I suppose Mr. Latendresse has gone?”

“I regret so, sir. The gentleman was evidently on quite a rigorous schedule.”

In another minute, Rushford was sitting before the parlor fire with his hands around a cup of Mrs. Devon’s stalwart coffee. He had refused food or anything stronger to drink.

“This is too good of you,” Rushford said. “I hate to put you all out this way, especially since I never got to meet with our client.”

“Nonsense, sir. It’s no trouble in the slightest. I’m sure my stepfather’s seen to everything as far as the company business goes.”

“Oh, and I never did get the things Parker wanted.” Rushford sighed.

“You rest easy now and don’t worry yourself.”

“So kind of you,” Rushford murmured. “I think I could have a bit of something to eat, after all.”

“What’s this? What’s this?” Mason came into the room, his voice hearty despite the concern in his eyes. “Whatever has happened to you, old man? Did you see who it was?”

Rushford shook his head. “No, they were on me before I knew it.”

“They?”

“They or he, I don’t know. Whoever it was took the bonds and, either way, my office and yours have been torn up, and I didn’t get those papers you wanted.”

“Papers I wanted? I thought you went there for something
you
wanted to show Latendresse.”

Drew looked from Rushford to Mason and back again. They both looked equally puzzled.

“No,” Rushford said. “I was going to come straight here until you called.”

“I didn’t call. You called here, said your car had refused to go, and I said I’d send someone up for you. I didn’t ask you to bring any papers from the office.”

“No, it was after that. I was in the bath, and you told my man to give me the message.”

“Min said I called?”

“Yes, I’m certain he did.”

“I tell you I never made any calls after I first spoke to you.”

“Hold on,” Drew said. “This can all be cleared up in a moment. What’s the number to your house, Mr. Rushford?”

Rushford told him, and Drew dialed. A moment later, he heard Min’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Mr. Rushford’s residence.”

“Hullo, Min. Drew Farthering here.”

“Yes, Mr. Farthering? I was about to leave here with Mr. Rushford’s things.”

“Yes, very good, Min, but I’d like to ask you something. Did anyone ring you up there before I came to get Mr. Rushford tonight?”

“Yes, sir. Someone called from Mr. Parker, wanting to leave a message for Mr. Rushford. I assure you, I gave him the message.”

“Oh yes, I know, Min. That’s all right. But who was it that left the message?”

“I’m sorry, but I do not know. He said only that he was calling for Mr. Parker.”

“Thank you, Min.”

Drew hung up the phone. Mason and Rushford both were looking at him expectantly.

“He said it was someone claiming to be calling on your behalf, sir.”

Mason knit his brow. “But who? I didn’t ask anyone to call.”

“Someone obviously wanted Mr. Rushford to open the office
and to open his safe,” Drew said. “Someone who knew what was there to be had or who was hoping to find something in the offices.”

“Lincoln,” Rushford breathed, breaking into a fresh sweat.

“Lincoln?” Mason repeated, his eyes wide.

“I mean this must be tied to Lincoln’s murder somehow.” The old man cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, it must be. Don’t you think, Parker?”

“I suppose it would be too much of a coincidence to think it wasn’t,” Mason said. “But what in the world were they after at the office? The bonds, certainly, but why tear through the files, especially mine? I suppose I’ll have to go up there first thing tomorrow and see what else is missing.”

“No doubt the chief inspector will be back down here too, once he gets a report on tonight’s goings-on,” Drew said, studying Rushford’s face. “Pity you didn’t see who hit you or recognize his voice.”

The old man merely looked into his tea and sighed.

C
hief Inspector Birdsong returned to Farthering Place the next morning and requested an interview with Rushford. It was singularly unproductive, and Drew could add little that was of any use. Of course, he did have a bit of an idea about what may have happened, at least some of it, but he wasn’t quite ready to have it sniggered at by the police. Nor was he desirous of being told yet again that he ought to leave the investigation to the professionals. If he could unearth enough support for his theory, there would be plenty of time to bring it to the attention of the worthy chief inspector.

He was about to go see if Rushford had remembered anything more about the incident at Farlinford when Denny came into the parlor.

“Peterson would like a word with you, sir.”

The gardener peered into the room. “Good morning, sir.”

At a stern look from the butler, he belatedly removed his hat. Then, with a bow, Denny left the room.

“What is it, Mr. Peterson?” Drew asked.

“I can’t say for certain, sir, but it seems there might be poachers about.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m certain I saw someone last night, sir. At the back edge of the rose garden. I don’t know what he might have been after there. He didn’t take none of the roses as I can see.”

“Did he see you?”

“He must have done, sir. He was at the garden and made for the greenhouse and then, of a sudden-like, he bolts into the woods. If the p’lice hadn’t taken my gun, I’d’ve warned him off with it. As it were, I couldn’t do more than holler after him that if he didn’t stop, well, I’d know the reason why.”

“What did he look like?”

“Well, I couldn’t rightly say, sir. It were a dark night and all, and he seemed all over in black, as well.”

“You couldn’t tell anything about his face? The color of his hair?”

“No, sir. Nothing like that. He was there and gone in a twinklin’. I’m sorry I can’t be no better help, but I thought you’d best know about it. Mr. Parker and Mr. Padgett have gone into the village to talk to the council about using the meadow for the fair next month, so I thought I’d best tell you about it.”

“Quite so. Quite so. Anything else you noticed?”

“No, sir, other than the moles have been at the garden again. Do you think the p’lice will be giving me back my gun before they’ve uprooted the whole lot?”

Drew smiled. “I’ll see what I can do about it. Don’t you worry. Have they done much damage?”

“Not as I can see, sir. Just digging about in the dirt and all. More a nuisance as yet.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Peterson. You and your men keep a watch out, and let me know if you see anything else.”

“Right you are, sir.”

Peterson replaced his hat, gave the brim a tug, and strode out of the room.

Drew took a sip of his tea, looking out over the grounds from the rose garden to the greenhouse and then to the wood. It made little sense for a poacher to be this near the house. There certainly wouldn’t be any game as nearby as this. But if it wasn’t a poacher, who would it be? And for what would he be looking?

“Beg pardon, Mr. Drew.”

Drew turned to see Anna at the terrace door, her eyes round and her hands clasped together as if she had to hold them still.

“What is it, Anna?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I couldn’t help hearing what Mr. Peterson said. About somebody being in the garden and at the . . . the greenhouse, sir.”

“Did you see something last night?”

“Oh, no, sir. I was in my bed with the door locked and my chair propped against it and the covers over my head, like I been ever since that Mr. Lincoln and the missus was taken.”

“I see,” Drew said, keeping his expression solemn and concerned. “Well, there’s no need for you to worry about it. Mr. Peterson and his men will see that there’s no one about who shouldn’t be.”

“But what if it wasn’t a poacher, sir?”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, sir, what if it was someone come to do some mischief in the house, robbers or . . . or worse.”

“Whyever would you think that?”

“It does happen. Sometimes an innocent is carried off in the night.”

Drew chose a discreet cough rather than what might have
appeared to be insensitive laughter. “Now, who do you know that was ever carried off in the night?”

“Well, it
does
happen, sir. Look at that cinema actress, that Lucy Lucette.”

“Oh dear. Must I?”

“But, Mr. Drew, the poor thing. The papers say she was at home having her beauty sleep, and when her maid came to wake her the next morning, she just wasn’t there.”

“Wasn’t she? Perhaps the maid was looking in the wrong bed. Who’s her leading man these days, anyway?”

“It’s not funny, Mr. Drew.” Anna’s chin quivered, but she stuck it out all the same. “It’s not a fit world we live in.”

“Well, not to worry. I imagine poor Lucy will be found. Besides, the kidnappers of American cinema stars are quite unlikely to turn up in Hampshire.”

“But Mr. Peterson saw—”

“Now, don’t you mind about that, Anna. Whoever Mr. Peterson doesn’t catch outside, Mr. Dennison and I will see to inside. Fair enough?”

“Just as you say, sir.”

“There’s a good girl. Now, kindly run and ask Nick if he won’t meet me down at the rose garden, if you would. We’ll see if there’s anything you ought to be worried over.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, clearly unconvinced and uncomforted. “Thank you, sir.”

Drew took one last sip of his tea, ate two very fine ginger macaroons, and then headed down to the garden. Nick was already there, peering at the ground.

“Hullo there. Anna tells me there were some unauthorized shenanigans about the grounds last night.”

“So Peterson says.” Drew examined the area. “What’s it look like to you?”

“Well, I’m fairly sure Mr. Peterson doesn’t go about doing the garden on his tippy-toes.”

“A fair assumption,” Drew agreed. “Clearly our visitor either treads very loudly and didn’t want to be heard in the night, or more likely, he decided half a print is much harder to match to a delinquent foot than a whole one. Shall we see where he was off to?”

They followed the tracks from the garden to the greenhouse and then to the edge of the woods.

“Peterson said he must have startled the man near the greenhouse because he dashed off then and into cover here.”

Drew and Nick looked about for a while longer, and then they followed the tracks into the trees and out onto the road, only to lose them in a jumble of foot and tire marks. Clearly at a dead end, they retraced their path back up to the house.

“There’s only one set of prints,” Drew said, “and Peterson saw the man run into the wood, so we know he wasn’t going the other way. But where did he come from?”

“Perhaps he got onto the walk that goes round the house from the drive.”

“I suppose, but where would he have come from before that?”

Drew studied the footprints in the flower bed once more.

“Suppose he wasn’t coming up to the house.”

Nick drew his brows together. “Then how could he have left these marks?”

“Suppose he was leaving the house.”

“Oh, I say. You don’t suppose—”

“I think a good look round would be in order, don’t you?”

“I’ll run down and get Mack and Bobby,” Nick said. “They can watch the house to see no one gets out.”

“Good idea. I’ll have Denny tell the staff to keep watch inside.”

“Look here, oughtn’t we have old Birdsong in on this?”

“Yes, I suppose we should. Still, it wouldn’t do anyone much good if we were to ring him up and then have to wait for him to motor down from Winchester or wherever he’s off to and, in the meanwhile, let our man get away, now, would it?”

Nick grinned. “It would be deuced irresponsible, I’d say.”

Drew gave him a hearty pat on the back. “Good man. Now, you see to Mack and Bobby, and I’ll get Denny.”

Nick loped out toward the greenhouse, and Drew hurried inside.

“What are you two up to?” Madeline asked. She was standing there halfway up the front stairway.

“Up to? I don’t have the slightest notion what you mean,” Drew said.

She nodded, clearly unconvinced. “I saw the two of you looking around in the yard and then running off into the woods. You’ve found something.”

“Nothing that need worry you, darling.”

She came down to him. “I’m not worried. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Well, if you must know, Mr. Peterson saw someone run from the house and into the wood last night. He couldn’t see who it was, just someone all in black.”

“But what could he have wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did he come from?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that, either. But since his footprints go only from the house to the woods, I’m thinking maybe he’s been hiding here all along.”

“Here? In the house?”

“A bit unnerving, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say it is.”

“Not to worry, darling. If there is anyone untoward here, we’ll soon flush him out.”

Drew rang the bell, and Dennison made an immediate appearance. Although he did not look entirely convinced of the sagacity of Drew’s plan, he responded to it with only a slight bow and his usual “Very good, sir.”

“Mack and Bobby are at their posts,” Nick announced as he came back inside. “Where shall we start?”

“Lovely.” Drew rubbed his hands together. “As soon as the staff are in place, we’ll start down here and work our way upward. What do you say?”

“Excellent. Will you be joining us, Miss Parker?”

“You’re not leaving me behind with a murderer in the house.”

Drew put her arm through his. “You’ll be safe with me, darling.”

Drew paced before the library fireplace. “Well, that was a bust.”

“And I had such hopes,” Nick said, and he flung himself into an overstuffed chair.

“You’re driving me crazy stalking around like that.” Madeline forced Drew to sit beside her on the divan. “And you shouldn’t have scared poor Mr. Rushford that way. He’s rattled enough as it is.”

Drew frowned thoughtfully. “Poor blighter. I did hate to go in there at all, but we had to at least take a look around. Now he’ll likely have the jitters worse than he did to start with.”

“Well, it’s certain he didn’t see anything,” Nick said with a grin, “or we’d have heard the howls across two counties. But at least
I
didn’t come away empty-handed.”

Drew leaned forward to peer at him. “What’s that?”

There was a spark of mischief in Nick’s eyes as he patted the little red leather notebook he’d taken from his pocket.

“I nicked it when we were in old Rushford’s room.”

“What is it? His diary?”

“Says so on the cover.”

Madeline’s mouth dropped open.

Drew’s jaw tightened. “You stole his diary?”

Nick shrugged. “
Stole
is a rather harsh term, isn’t it?”

“But a man’s diary—”

“Exactly. If he’s our man—”

“If he’s our man, he’s not likely to write it all down and leave it for anyone to find. Besides, didn’t your Father Knox say we weren’t to know the inner thoughts of the perpetrator?”

“Don’t be daft. But he might have put down something that will give us a clue, don’t you think?”

“I suppose that’s possible.” Drew held out his hand. “Let’s have it.”

Nick handed him the book. “Or he may have seen something he forgot to mention.”

Drew thumbed through until he found Saturday, the fourth of June. The page was blank.

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Suspicious, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s written about it the next day: ‘Terrible tragedy. David Lincoln was murdered last night at Farthering Place. Parker’s wife dead, too. Possible suicide or overdose of her sleeping medicine. Awful thing.’”

“Not very helpful,” Nick muttered.

“No, and stop reading over my shoulder.”

Nick made a little huffing noise and sat up straight, his arms crossed over his chest. “Fine.”

Drew scanned a few more pages. “Nothing but everyday happenings. Here’s a bit about the case: ‘Still no word on Lincoln’s killer. Unnerving to know a chap and have him murdered, even if he was a scoundrel. World’s gone mad since the war.’” Drew skipped further ahead. “How about last night?”

Nick leaned forward again. “Well?”

“Nothing.”

“The poor man,” Madeline said. “You really couldn’t expect him to feel like writing after what he’d been through.”

“No,” Drew agreed, “but he made up for it today: ‘It’s a wonder I wasn’t killed. The office robbed and our bearer bonds taken. It’s been such a frightful experience, I don’t know if I shall ever recover. I’m still so confused. I don’t know whether or not I heard properly. It must be this blow on the head. Anything else is impossible.’”

Nick frowned. “Is that all?”

Drew turned the page. “More or less. A mention of the incompetence of the police. A wonder that we’ve not all been murdered in our beds quite yet. Fear that the company will go under after the theft.”

“What do you suppose he heard?” Madeline asked.

“Or didn’t hear.” Drew flipped back a page. “‘I don’t know whether or not I heard properly.’ Heard what?”