Mad About the Boy? (17 page)

‘This is nasty,' he said to Sir Philip, raising his voice above the noise of the wind. He crouched down beside the unlovely remains of Lord Lyvenden. Lyvenden had always been stout, and now, robbed by death of any movement, he seemed flabby, like a part-deflated balloon. The killer had struck three times before his last blow had found a vital spot, the ripped shirt and gashed skin underneath testifying to the viciousness of the attack.

‘It's ghastly,' repeated Sir Philip. ‘And the worst of it is, his wife, Lady Harriet, doesn't know a thing about it. She was out this morning and she hasn't come back yet.' He rubbed his hand across his forehead. ‘I'm not looking forward to breaking the news to her, I must say.'

Ashley briefly shifted his attention from the knife buried in Lyvenden's chest. ‘Don't worry about that, Sir Philip. I'll talk to her.' He opened his briefcase and, taking out an insufflator, gently puffed a film of grey powder over the hilt of the knife. ‘Gloves, by the look of it,' he murmured, more to himself than Sir Philip. ‘Definitely gloves. And what looks like initials and a date scratched on to the hilt.' He returned the insufflator to its box. ‘No, I'll talk to Lady Harriet. It's not something I like doing but it's my responsibility.' He snapped his briefcase shut and stood up. ‘It's going to be dreadful for the poor woman, seeing him like this. Was she very close to her husband?'

Sir Philip raised his hands in frustration. ‘I don't know. I suppose she was, but I found her a bit of a cold fish. You could never tell what she was thinking. But whatever she thought of him, Ashley, it's bound to be a shock.'

‘Yes, we can't wrap it up, I'm afraid.' Ashley stared once more at the body. ‘Do you recognize this knife?'

Sir Philip looked at the knife in a dissatisfied way. ‘I think it's the one Charnock took from the Russian I told you about. Damn it, Ashley, what's happened to the world? When I met Captain Stanton he seemed a likeable young feller. He came from a good family, too, only twenty miles or so from here. Jack told me he suffered from shell shock, but he was supposed to be cured. Every damn bit of nonsense in the world seems to be put down to shell shock these days.' He chewed his moustache. ‘We've had a lucky escape.'

‘A lucky escape?' Ashley looked at him enquiringly. ‘How? That Captain Stanton could have murdered you all, you mean? Did he ever strike you as violent or not in control of himself?'

Sir Philip looked surprised. ‘No, it wasn't that. It never crossed my mind. To be honest, as I say, I rather liked Captain Stanton.' He chewed his moustache once more. ‘No, it was that the feller was keen on my daughter. She's seen a lot of him in London, although this is the first time he's been down here. Alice liked him, I know, and we wondered if they'd make a match of it. Then, thank God, things cooled off and she got engaged to this other chap I told you about, Commander Smith-Fennimore. Maybe Isabelle knew or guessed something we didn't. Anyway, it was all over before this awful tragedy. I can hardly believe it, Ashley. A suicide and a murder in my house and Isabelle involved.' There was a plaintive note on the word ‘my'. ‘I suppose it'll be in all the papers.'

Ashley nodded. ‘We can scarcely keep it out, I'm afraid. However, I don't see why we should bring Miss Rivers' name into it. She'd never been engaged to him, had she?'

Sir Philip shook his head. ‘No, thank goodness.'

‘Then let's just hope we can clear it up quickly, sir, before the Press find out there was any connection between them.'

Sir Philip, unable to stand still, strode impatiently round the room. ‘There's not a lot to clear up from your point of view, is there? We know who did the murder. We virtually saw him. All you need to do is lay hands on the man and you're there. It's an open and shut case.' He broke off as footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, nodding a greeting as Smith-Fennimore came into the room. He turned to the Superintendent. ‘This is Commander Smith-Fennimore, Ashley.'

‘Superintendent Ashley?' asked Smith-Fennimore. ‘Haldean's mentioned you. Pleased to meet you. I came to tell you that my valet, Sotherby, has arrived together with Lord Lyvenden's man, Adamson. They know all about what's happened. They were in the pub. Apparently everyone in the village is talking about it.'

Sir Philip's face fell. ‘How on earth does anyone know?'

‘The servants will have told the postman or the butcher's boy or something,' said Ashley. ‘This sort of news spreads like wildfire. I particularly want to see Lord Lyvenden's man. I'm hoping he'll be a valuable witness.' He looked at the bloodstained handkerchief tied round Smith-Fennimore's hand. ‘That looks nasty, sir. What happened?'

Smith-Fennimore cradled his right hand in his left and nodded towards Lord Lyvenden's body. ‘I cut myself on that knife. It was stupid of me.'

‘Cut yourself on the knife?' repeated Ashley.

Smith-Fennimore grimaced. ‘Before Lyvenden was murdered, obviously.' He looked tired and there were lines etched round his mouth. ‘It's a real nuisance. It means I can't drive. I wanted to go out and look for Captain Stanton but I simply can't manage the car. I did try. I had a scout round on foot but couldn't see any sign of him.'

‘We should pick him up soon,' said Ashley. ‘It's bad luck about your hand, sir. As you're here though, can I ask you to make a statement?'

Smith-Fennimore nodded. ‘Of course.'

‘But before that, Commander, can you tell me if you recognize the knife?'

Smith-Fennimore nodded again. ‘I recognize it, all right. I've handled it twice. Once on Sunday morning . . .' He broke off and glanced at Sir Philip.

‘I've told the Superintendent about our Russian friend,' said Sir Philip.

‘And I also handled it earlier on today That's when I injured myself.' He bit his lip. ‘And then, of course, I looked at it after we discovered all this.'

‘Would you mind having another look, sir?' asked Ashley. ‘Don't touch it, if you don't mind.'

He stood aside to allow him to approach the body. Smith-Fennimore hunched down beside Lord Lyvenden with some reluctance. ‘Haldean told me these knives were fairly commonplace but I've never seen one before.' He looked at the A.C. on the hilt. ‘Yes, it's the same knife that Mr Charnock took from the Russian.'

‘Thank you, sir,' said Ashley. ‘It's important to be as certain as possible in these cases, as I'm sure you'll appreciate.' He walked to the window, looking carefully at the broken frame. ‘Captain Stanton made a pretty mess here. Did you notice if he cut himself?'

Sir Philip shrugged. ‘I couldn't tell you. The feller streaked off like a bullet from a gun.'

A sudden gust of icy wind through the wreckage of the window made them shiver. There was a peal of thunder and more rain splattered in. Sir Philip stepped back. ‘I'd like to get this boarded up. I suppose I can do that, can I, or do you need the room to be left as it is? I don't know much about police matters but Jack always seems to want things left well alone.'

Ashley shook his head. ‘No, you can get it seen to. Have your men work from the outside, though, don't let them come in here. I'd like this room locked up for the time being, Sir Philip. I've sent for the doctor and the photographer should arrive soon. When they've been, we'll be able to remove the body. I'll arrange all that, of course. What I will have to do is take statements from anyone who was a witness, starting with the Commander here. Is there a room I can use?'

‘You'd better have the gun room,' said Sir Philip after a few moments' thought. ‘I'll show you where it is.' They left the room and Sir Philip locked the door behind him with a sigh of relief. ‘I'm glad to be out of there. I'll send Jack, Isabelle and the girls along to you when they arrive. Naturally, they'll want to change and so on after having been out in this weather. They'll get their deaths of cold otherwise.' He sighed once more. ‘A suicide and a murder. In
my
house. Unbelievable!'

Ashley liked the gun room. It was a room that would be easy to relax in and he found witnesses talked more if they were at their ease. There were comfortable chairs and a table with cigarettes, and the pleasantly masculine odour of whisky and cigars mingled with the light metallic smell of gun-oil. The guns themselves, ranged in glass-fronted cases round the wall, spoke not of violence and sudden death but of days in the long grass and heather with a spaniel at your heels. All these things helped to dispel the hard fact that this was a murder inquiry and that a sergeant with a notebook was sitting at the table writing down every word which was said.

Smith-Fennimore gave a few brief details about himself, then looked ruefully at the rain streaming down the windows. ‘I can't say I envy old Haldean and the girls out in that.' He rubbed his thumb gingerly over his injured palm. ‘It's rotten not being able to drive, though.'

‘It must be very trying, especially for you, sir,' said Ashley, pulling his chair closer to the table. ‘Sir Philip told me who you were. I saw you race at Brooklands last month. My son's very keen on motor-racing. He's twelve and thinks of precious little else. I took him along for a birthday treat.'

‘Did you?' Smith-Fennimore settled himself in one of the old leather armchairs and lit a cigarette. ‘Next time you come, drop me a line care of the track and if you arrive early enough I can show him the car. I don't mind kids.'

Ashley was touched. ‘That's very generous of you, sir. Now, about this business. You played golf this morning, I believe.'

Smith-Fennimore nodded. ‘That's right. We got back from the links about quarter to one.'

‘And how was Captain Stanton? Was he nervous or apprehensive at all?'

Smith-Fennimore frowned, trying to remember. ‘Not especially, I don't think. He always did strike me as a bit nervy. I believe he suffered from shell shock but he was supposed to be cured.'

‘So I believe, sir,' said Ashley. His eyes crinkled, inviting a confidence. ‘I know Sir Philip thinks Captain Stanton simply went off his head, but is that your opinion? Or do you think there's another reason?'

Ashley knew immediately he'd struck gold. Smith-Fennimore looked horribly uncomfortable but said nothing. ‘This is a very serious matter, sir,' prompted Ashley eventually. ‘You must understand that we need you to be as accurate as you possibly can.'

‘Well, yes.' Smith-Fennimore scratched his chin. ‘I can see that.' He frowned. ‘I don't suppose there's any big secret about it. Haldean certainly knows and so does Miss Rivers. Lord Lyvenden was a colleague of mine but we didn't always agree. As a matter of fact, the more I got to know about him, the unhappier I became, but I couldn't honestly complain about the work he did for the bank. He was a very acute – some would say ruthless – businessman. During the war he was the promoter of the Colonial and Oriental Mining Conglomerate. This was before he got the peerage and was still plain Mr Todd. Lyvenden got out before the crash, but Stanton's father was ruined. It gave Captain Stanton a real shock when he found out Victor Todd and Lord Lyvenden were one and the same person. He attributed the deaths of both his parents to the collapse of the Colonial and Oriental.'

Ashley whistled. ‘I see. Was this the first time since his parents died that Captain Stanton had met Lord Lyvenden?'

‘As far as I know, yes.'

Ashley was silent for a moment. A motive, a proper motive, the thing which had puzzled him, had emerged. It was very early days, but the case was taking shape. ‘To return to your own affairs, sir. What did you do when you got back from playing golf?'

‘I went up to my room to change.'

‘And was your valet there?'

Smith-Fennimore shook his head. ‘No. Tuesday is his afternoon off. I don't think he'll be able to help you much, but ask him, by all means. After I changed I had some time in hand so I started to look through some business papers. There's been a particular problem I've been trying to crack and I had a few ideas about it this morning. I hadn't got very far before I saw I needed to discuss it with Lyvenden. So I went along to his room – that would be about ten past one at a guess – to see him. When I arrived, he had just finished dressing. It was rather awkward in a way.' Smith-Fennimore paused. ‘You see, the matter was highly confidential, and his valet, Adamson, was still there. I was surprised to see him, because I knew my man, Sotherby, had planned to go out with him this afternoon. I explained things as best I could in the presence of a third party and Lord Lyvenden promised to look into it right away. I left the papers with him. I hadn't been long. Certainly less than ten minutes. What did I do then?' He thought for a moment, then his face cleared. ‘I went out to my car. That was it. I'd left my lighter in it. Then, when I came back into the house, I spoke to Major Haldean. Like me, he was waiting in the hall before we went into lunch.'

‘Who else was in the hall, sir?'

‘Only myself and Major Haldean to start with, then the place filled up. There was my fiancée, Miss Rivers, and her uncle, Mr Charnock. Mr Charnock went out for lunch. When the lunch gong sounded, neither Lord Lyvenden nor Captain Stanton had arrived and the custom is, as everyone knows, to be in the hall beforehand. Sir Philip is very keen on punctuality at mealtimes. Major Haldean and I went to hurry up Captain Stanton. He'd lost his cuff-links and was searching for them. We found them easily enough, down beside his dressing table.'

‘Why didn't Captain Stanton use the cuff-links from his golf shirt?'

‘He'd lost them, too.' Smith-Fennimore smiled at Ashley's expression. ‘He was always losing things. He's been late for nearly every meal so far because of losing his tie-clip or his collar-studs, or something of that sort. On the links this morning he had to play with rolled-up sleeves. The thing is, while we were searching for them, Major Haldean looked in Captain Stanton's chest of drawers. He found the sheath knife that the Russian had left on Sunday. It was buried under Captain Stanton's socks.'