Feted to Die: An Inspector Constable Murder Mystery (17 page)

Andy Constable thumped the desk in frustration. “Damn it, Copper, why can’t people tell us the truth?”

“There’s certainly something she’s not telling us, sir. But what was all this Births, Marriages and Deaths business all about? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Perhaps it’s got something to do with the letter from the Family Records office. I think we need to have a closer look at that.”

A timid tap was heard at the library door. The two detectives looked at one another.

“Albert Ross!” they said in unison. Dave Copper went to the door and ushered Albert into the room.

“Lady Lawdown said you wanted to see me, inspector. I honestly don’t know that I can add any more to what I said before. I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Ah, but that’s not strictly true, is it, Mr. Ross,” said Constable. “I think there are quite a few things you haven’t told us. For instance, you said to us that you went out to help your cousin get ready for the fete, and to do his make-up for his character as the fortune-teller.”

Albert licked his lips. “That’s right – I did. It was the eyes, you see. He couldn’t see to do them properly without his glasses, you see, but of course he couldn’t wear his glasses, so that’s why he needed me.”

“Yes, Mr. Ross, I quite understand,” replied Constable. “There’s just one problem. Mr. Cope wasn’t actually wearing any eye make-up when he was found. So although you may have gone out to his tent with the intention of helping him to prepare, when you got there you didn’t actually do it. So what did you do?”

Albert Ross gaped at the inspector. “Oh dear.” Tears came to his eyes. “I really didn’t do it, inspector. How could I? What reason would I have?”

Constable was unmoved. “Well, Mr. Ross, from what we can gather, quite a few reasons. Let’s start with just one – the fact that you were about to lose your home.”

“How did you know about that?” asked Albert in astonishment.

“You would be amazed at the things we know, Mr. Ross,” replied Constable. “So why don’t you tell us about it.”

Albert seemed to deflate as he slumped further into his chair. “All right, inspector. I’ll tell you. I didn’t go to help Horace set his things up – well, I did, but I wanted something else as well. I wanted one last chance to persuade him to change his mind about throwing me out of the cottage.”

“And why was he intending to throw you out, Mr. Ross?”

Albert shifted in his seat. “Well, inspector … it was all rather personal. I’d really rather not go into it.” He blinked. “Er … family reasons.”

“Family reasons, eh?” Constable’s tone was dry. “Which some people might think odd, since you two were the only family you had. That is right, isn’t it, Mr. Ross?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s another reason which some might think gave you a motive to kill your cousin, sir. They might assume that you would have expectations of inheriting his money, mightn’t they? And it looks as if that might be quite a tidy sum, which from what you told us about your financial situation, would be very useful to you. Wouldn’t it?”

Albert Ross refused to meet the inspector’s eye, and remained looking at his hands which twisted awkwardly in his lap.

“So, Mr. Ross,” persisted Constable, “you said you wanted to try to persuade Mr. Cope to change his mind. Did you succeed?”

“No, inspector, I didn’t. I even begged him, but it wasn’t any use. He wouldn’t budge. And so I left.”

“Just like that? You’re all set to be thrown out on to the street, your cousin is refusing to help you, so you just turn and go? You do nothing?”

Albert smiled wanly. “What do you think I did, inspector? I’m not a violent man. Yes, I just turned and left. And I swear that Horace was perfectly all right when I last saw him. In fact, he was better than all right. You never knew him, inspector. You don’t know how smug he could be whenever he got his own way over people. So yes, he was perfectly all right. He had that smile he used to wear. So I left.”

“And did what, Mr. Ross? Did you go straight back and join the others?” asked Dave Copper, pen poised over his notebook.

“I really didn’t know what to do, sergeant,” said Albert. “I was at the end of my tether, and I even thought of just going back to the cottage and packing up my few bits and pieces and just quietly going away somewhere. I’ve no idea where – I just wanted to get away. But then I had a thought, and I went upstairs to find Seymour.”

“What made you want to see Mr. Cummings, sir?”

“I don’t know. I just thought he might know of some way of putting pressure on Horace to make him change his mind. I suppose I hoped that he might know something about Horace – I thought if Horace knows all these things about other people, and Seymour and Horace have been rivals in the business all these years …” He tailed off.

“So you thought you’d see if you could do a little reverse blackmail of your own, eh?” remarked Constable. “It seems to have been quite a family trait. So, any luck?”

“No, inspector. I just sat there in Seymour’s room until he came back, and then I told him everything. He said he couldn’t really think of anything offhand, but he’d try to help, not that he and Horace were exactly the best of friends. He seemed rather vague, but to be honest, I was just glad of someone to talk to, even though I don’t think he was really listening properly. Anyway, after I’d finished, we just went back downstairs to the drawing room together.”

“Would you know what time that was, sir?” enquired Copper.

“Yes, I do remember that, sergeant,” said Albert. “It was exactly half-past twelve, because the clock at the foot of the stairs was striking just as we came down, and Laura was just coming back with a bottle of whisky, and Seymour made some remark about needing a drink, so we went into the drawing room to join the others. And that’s where I stayed all the time. You can ask anyone.”

“We shall, Mr. Ross, don’t you worry. But thank you for that. I think I’ve got it all noted down quite clearly.”

“Oh. Er. Good.” Albert hesitated. “Was … was that all,
then, inspector? Only I …?”

“Yes, I think so, Mr. Ross.” Inspector Constable’s tone indicated that it probably wasn’t. “We’ll have a word with some of the others now. Perhaps if you could ask Miss Highwater if she would spare us a few minutes, that would be very kind.” And as Albert rose to go, “Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind just remaining in the drawing room for the time being – just in case we need another little chat.” He smiled urbanely.

“I can’t make him out at all, sir,” remarked Dave Copper as the door closed behind Albert. “He seems such a feeble specimen, you can’t really imagine him getting himself together for long enough to do anything to anyone.”

Andy Constable gave a short laugh. “Come on, Copper – you know better than that. We’ve had enough cases where the worm turns. Plus, I think there’s more to our Mr. Ross than meets the eye. What about this business about the vanishing antiques that Gideon Porter told us about? Gaps on the walls at Mr. Cope’s cottage, gaps on the shelves – I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Mr. Porter had the rights of it, and it looks as if Mr. Ross was crafty enough to pull that off and dispose of the stuff without getting caught out by our local colleagues. So let’s not put him quite out of the picture just yet. If Horace Cope was worth what it seems he was, what with the cottage and everything, that would be a better motive to kill him than a lot we’ve known.”

Dave Copper glanced at his notebook. “And there’s his movements, sir. Do the timings sound a bit iffy to you?”

“Just a bit, Copper.”

At that moment, there was a firm knock at the door, and Helen Highwater strode briskly into the room. “You wished to see me, I believe.” She seated herself opposite the inspector. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s largely a question of confirming a few details about what people were doing and when, Miss Highwater,” responded Constable smoothly. “Now there’s one point that’s just come up, while I think of it. Mr. Ross has just told us that he left the drawing room to go to help his cousin prepare for the fete, and he returned at twelve thirty. Can you help us with that?”

“Ah, now as it happens, I can, inspector, and Albert is quite right. It was exactly half past because the hall clock was striking, and I saw them all go into the drawing room together. They were only just ahead of me.”

“Sorry, madam …” Constable was perplexed. “All?”

“Oh yes. Albert was just coming downstairs with Seymour, and Laura came out of this room at the same time.”

“So Miss Biding was out of the drawing room as well?”

“Certainly, inspector. Sorry, didn’t you know?”

“Actually, no, we didn’t, madam.” Inspector Constable’s voice gave nothing away, and he raised his eyebrows in expectation. “So perhaps you’d be good enough to tell us.”

“It’s perfectly simple, inspector. Sandra had sent Laura off to get some more drinks, which I suppose would have been about twenty past twelve.”

“And do you know where she went?”

“Of course. She went to the butler’s pantry.”

“Butler’s pantry?” broke in Dave Copper. “Where exactly is that, madam? We weren’t shown anything like that when Miss Biding explained the layout of the house to us.”

“It’s that little room under the staircase, sergeant,” replied Helen. “I dare say they didn’t think of it, because of course it isn’t used as a butler’s pantry these days. In fact, there hasn’t been a butler for years – not since Peter died.”

“Peter being who … the last butler?”

“Oh goodness no, sergeant,” laughed Helen. “Peter was Lord Lawdown – Sandra’s husband. But of course, when he died there were all the death duties, so some things had to go. Do you know, there used to be a staff of fourteen in the house and gardens when I was a girl, but not any more. It would be lovely if Sandra could afford a butler, poor dear, but she’s on her uppers.” Her hand went to her mouth and she turned to Andy Constable. “Oh heavens – I do hope you won’t repeat that, inspector. I really shouldn’t have let it slip out. But that’s one of the reasons that Sandra keeps the fete going these days – it’s a very good way of raising money to help keep up the house.”

“If we could just return to the point, madam,” said Constable. “The butler’s pantry …?”

“I’m sorry, inspector. Yes, it’s a room under the stairs, with the old strongroom for the silver and the cupboard for the wines. It’s bigger than you’d think. There’s the door from the hall, which you probably didn’t notice because it’s quite well hidden in the panelling, and there’s the door through from the kitchen, but I think they keep that one locked all the time. So that’s where Laura was going to get some drink – whisky, I think.”

“And you say you saw the others go back into the drawing room all together, Miss Highwater. Which means, of course that you also left the room.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I said I’d go with Laura to give her a hand. But then as it was, she only wanted the one bottle of whisky, so she didn’t really need me at all, but then she said she had to make a phone call from the library, so I said I’d pop out to the flower room to get a vase for the flowers Horace had brought Sandra.”

Andy Constable leaned forward. “Now that is possibly quite interesting, Miss Highwater. Did Miss Biding mention who it was that she was going to call?”

“I’m sorry, inspector, she didn’t,” replied Helen. “She was a little bit awkward about it, so I didn’t like to ask.”

“Well, no matter, madam,” said Constable breezily. “We shall just have to ask her, shan’t we? So then …?”

“Well, then we all went back into the drawing room to join Sandra. I think we all stayed there until the vicar came back, and you know what happened after that.”

“Indeed we do, Miss Highwater, so we needn’t go into that again. But I do have one or two things I’d just like to clarify. Firstly, the matter of your new book. When we visited Mr. Cope’s cottage, we found a copy of the new Carrie Otter book in Mr. Cope’s study. But from what I gather, it isn’t available yet. So how do you suppose that came about?”

Helen laughed. “Gracious, inspector, there’s no mystery about that at all. Horace was a book critic – I’d let him have a copy in advance for his review column. It’s quite normal in publishing, you know.”

“I see,” said Constable. “Now I had the impression that Mr. Cope turned down your offer as unnecessary, from something Miss Cook said she heard.”

“Oh inspector, I shouldn’t pay too much attention to what Amelia says,” replied Helen. “She’s always far too busy running about making scones and suchlike to know what goes on. Well, you’ve talked to her – she’s a dear soul, but you know what she’s like.”

Constable smiled understandingly. “We do, Miss Highwater. Well, I think that will do for now, so I won’t keep you any longer. But if you could ask Mr. Cummings to pop through, that would be very kind.”

“Of course, inspector.” Helen rose and moved to the door.

Constable turned to his colleague. “Copper, don’t let me forget to have another word with Miss Cook when we’ve finished with Mr. Cummings and the others.”

Helen turned, her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, I say …”

“Yes, Miss Highwater. What is it?”

“I’ve just realised, inspector. If Seymour and the rest of us went into the drawing room at half past twelve, that would mean that Sandra had been on her own while we were out of the room. She could have done anything – I hadn’t thought of that.” She closed the door quietly behind her.