The Testimony of the Hanged Man (Lizzie Martin 5) (14 page)

‘But she is not here, where she might be expected to be,’ I reminded him gently.

Lamont blinked. ‘Who are the two people who identified her?’

‘The parish clerk of St Mary’s church and also Dr Croft.’

‘Croft? Is he not retired? He must be as old as Methuselah.’

‘He was the nearest doctor to hand, so they fetched him. I understand that Dr Croft is in his late seventies, retired indeed, but not quite as old as the Biblical personage you mention.’

‘Well, well . . .’ muttered Lamont, scowling.

‘I’m afraid I need to ask you, as her employer, if you would assist us by coming with me now to identify her in addition to the two gentlemen I mentioned. Usually, it is a relative or a close associate who makes the identification and it’s as well to stick to the rules in these cases.’ I paused. ‘And you can satisfy yourself that there has been no mistake.’

‘You want me to go down to this garden shed?’ He sounded resentful. I couldn’t say whether it was the notion of viewing Rachel’s corpse or doing so in the humble surroundings of a potting shed that disturbed him most.

‘Yes, sir. But I need first to ask your other staff if any of them saw her earlier. It is very important we establish when she left the house.’

‘Wait here!’ ordered Lamont and walked out of the room.

I was reminded of Canning, who had been similarly anxious to prime his employees before I questioned them. Lamont was gone some minutes. When he returned, he was accompanied by the ubiquitous butler and a waif-like child, about twelve or thirteen years of age, dressed in an over-large grey gown and apron.

‘Johnson will explain,’ Lamont said briefly, with a gesture towards the butler.

‘Miss Sawyer customarily ate breakfast alone in her sitting room,’ the butler said to me. ‘She required only tea and toast and it was taken up to her, on a tray, by Harriet here.’

The waif gave me a look of panic.

‘Don’t be afraid, Harriet,’ I urged her. ‘What is your position in the household?’

‘I wash up, sir,’ whispered Harriet.

‘Harriet is the skivvy,’ said the butler.

Interesting, I thought. No housemaid carried the housekeeper’s breakfast tray up to her, as might be expected. The task was given to the lowly skivvy.

‘You took Miss Sawyer her breakfast tray this morning as usual?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Seven o’clock, sir, as usual.’ Harriet was almost inaudible. ‘Hot water goes up at half past six. Breakfast tray at seven.’

I wanted to ask her to speak up but worried that might frighten her even more. ‘Did she speak to you?’ I asked encouragingly.

‘Yes, sir, she said, “Put it on the table.” She meant the tray, sir. So I did – and I left.’

‘She gave no indication she was going out? How was she dressed?’

‘As usual, sir.’ Harriet looked bewildered.

‘Was she wearing a cape or shawl or a hat – anything that suggested she was just about to leave the house?’

‘No, sir.’ Harriet’s pale face unexpectedly brightened. ‘She was wearing her balmorals, sir.’

The girl was more observant than the earlier part of the interview had suggested. Rachel had not been wearing her usual indoor shoes, but the stout ladies’ walking boots made popular by Her Majesty on her Scottish holidays. I cast my mind back to the corpse lying on the bench in the shed. I had not paid particular attention to her footwear. I should have done so.

‘Did you see Miss Sawyer leave the house, Harriet?’

A shake of the head. ‘It’s awful busy in the kitchen in the morning, sir.’

‘No one saw her leave,’ intoned Johnson. ‘I have inquired of Cook and the maids. I myself did not see her at all this morning.’

‘She did not usually appear in the kitchen in the mornings?’

‘Not before eleven, sir. She would then come to discuss the luncheon with Cook.’

‘So you were all surprised in the kitchen when she did not appear as usual at eleven?’

The butler looked affronted at the idea that anything might surprise him. ‘Cook had things well in hand, sir. Mrs Lamont sometimes required Miss Sawyer for other duties. It occasioned no surprise.’

I was reminded of Admiral Nelson’s famous words, on putting the telescope to his blind eye, ‘I see no ships!’ In this well-trained household, the presence of the police was an unacceptable intrusion. None of the servants would have seen anything that morning. Avenues of inquiry had already been blocked.

‘One more thing, Harriet,’ I said to the kitchenmaid. ‘When you went back to fetch the tray, had Miss Sawyer drunk her tea and eaten her toast?’

‘Yes, sir, but only eaten one piece of toast. She left the tray outside her door as usual. I just picked it up and took it back to the kitchen.’

There was no more to glean from Harriet. I nodded to the butler and said, ‘Thank you.’

Johnson looked relieved and gave Harriet a little push to usher her back to her dirty dishes.

‘Bring me my hat and cane, Johnson,’ Lamont ordered him. ‘I am just going out with the inspector. Tell Mrs Lamont I will be back by four?’ The query in his voice was addressed to me.

‘I would hope so, sir,’ I said. I’d hate to disturb his tea table as well as luncheon.

When we were outside the property, I asked Lamont: ‘Is there some little-used route from here to the river? I walked here along the High Street and up Putney Hill to an inn called the Green Man. I then struck off across the heath. Is there another way, one that would avoid the High Street and most of the houses?’

Lamont stared and tapped his chin with the silver head of his cane. ‘There is a footpath that skirts the rear of the properties near the river; and comes out where there is open land on the banks. You think that is the way Sawyer would have walked?’

‘I am interested in all the usual ways of reaching the river from here. As I said, I walked here the most obvious way. I’d like to see the other. My sergeant will be making inquiries in the High Street and around to find out if anyone saw Miss Sawyer there very early this morning. I don’t want to cover the same ground.’

Lamont looked at me thoughtfully before turning and leading the way across the road and into the copse.

‘Can you think of any reason that would have led to Miss Sawyer leaving the house to go anywhere without letting anyone know, so early in the morning?’ I asked as we followed a narrow path between the trees.

‘None,’ he said briefly. He swished his cane at a clump of nettles. ‘I have told you so already. Her private life, if she had one, was her own business. I doubt if a woman so dull had a private life.’

It was important I did not reveal to him that I already knew something of his household. So I asked him now, ‘Has Miss Sawyer been a long time in your employ?’

‘Yes.’ He paused and then realised I was waiting for him to elaborate. ‘Fox House was my wife’s family home. She lived there with her late uncle, and inherited it on his death. Sawyer was already employed there and remained.’

‘She had been the housekeeper to Mrs Lamont’s uncle?’

‘No, she was a housemaid in his time.’ Lamont did not like this conversation and I was beginning to get the impression he had not much liked Rachel Sawyer.

‘What would have been Mrs Lamont’s maiden name?’

‘Sheldon!’ said Lamont curtly. ‘What has this to do with Sawyer’s body being found this morning?’

‘Fox House was also Miss Sawyer’s home,’ I said to him. ‘I am very interested to learn how long she’d worked there and anything at all about her.’

‘Seventeen years!’ snapped Lamont. ‘And, before you ask and since you are so anxious to know every detail, my wife and I have been married fifteen years.’

So Rachel had been merely a housemaid at Fox House, and for only a year when Isaiah Sheldon died. It seemed to me most odd that Amelia Sheldon had promoted her to housekeeper. Rachel could have had no real experience for the job, other than dusting and making beds. She had gone from that, in a single leap, to directing all the other staff, dealing with tradesmen, making all manner of domestic arrangements – and being a sort of companion to her mistress.

‘Did Miss Sheldon – as she was when she inherited the house – keep on all her late uncle’s staff?’

‘No, only Sawyer.’ Lamont was now clearly uneasy. ‘My wife was very fond of Sawyer. That is why she fainted when you revealed to us – in a brutal manner – that her dead body had been discovered.’

All this confirmed what Wally Slater and Lizzie had gleaned. ‘It was very useful to you, no doubt, that Mrs Sheldon had someone like Miss Sawyer on whom she could rely.’ This was really needling the man and I waited to see how he’d reply.

He stopped short and turned to face me. ‘You may as well know, Inspector Ross, that I found Sawyer a tiresome woman and I made sure to have as little to do with her as possible. I would have liked to dismiss her but my wife wouldn’t hear of it. She had become very dependent on Sawyer and, as she needed some female company, it suited her to have the woman there. I didn’t suit me particularly but I should stress that, as housekeeper, Sawyer acquitted herself well. She was, I do believe, devoted to my wife. My wife and I have no children. If we’d had a young family, my wife’s interests would have been different and Sawyer might not have wished to stay. However . . .’ He shrugged and started to walk on very quickly, swinging his cane.

We had crossed the heath and begun to walk downhill, keeping our silence. I could see buildings ahead. Now Lamont touched my elbow.

‘This way!’ He pointed his cane and led me along a narrow footpath to the rear of some gardens. I conjectured we would occasionally be visible from the upper windows and at other times shielded by trees and fencing. The path took a steeper downward angle. A gull swept overhead. We were not far from the river. Without warning, we suddenly stepped out into an open grassed area with a few trees, and I found myself gazing across the brown water at a procession of barges making their way up river. I consulted my watch. It had taken us a good half-hour, striding out at a brisk pace with the occasional brief pause to talk, unimpeded by traffic and downhill most of the way.

I was now convinced this was the route Rachel Sawyer would have taken just after seven that morning. (Harriet had taken up the tea and toast at seven. Rachel was already wearing walking boots. She had taken a couple of minutes to drink the tea and eat one slice of the bread, but not to finish the rack of toast.) It would have taken Rachel, with her shorter woman’s strides but wearing serviceable boots, slightly longer than it had taken us. If she had gone to meet someone near the river, the rendezvous must have been set for around a quarter to eight. The early hour and the secretive way she’d left the house indicated the very private nature of the meeting. She and the other person would not want to be observed and this spot was a likely one agreed for the meeting. I turned my head and looked back. None of the properties we’d passed would have an uninterrupted view of the location. Rachel’s killer, if he had chosen it, had chosen well.

A little later we stood in the potting shed, still guarded by the dependable Constable Beck, and gazed down on the dead face of Rachel Sawyer.

Lamont’s face bore an expression of disgust. He glanced at our surroundings. ‘Surely she cannot be left here? What of the owners of the property?’

‘Arrangements are in hand to move the body. I would prefer it taken across the river for postmortem examination. It may be, however, that it is taken to a mortuary chapel or some such place here in Putney and the pathologist will come out here to examine her. That’s not certain and depends on the coroner.’

‘She’ll be as stiff as a board if you don’t get on with it,’ Lamont said callously.

His tone shocked me and I’m not easily shocked. I said nothing.

‘Her clothes are muddy,’ Lamont said next. ‘Are you sure she did not attempt to drown herself?’

‘Muddy is not wet,’ I told him. That reminded me to examine her boots. I did so, watched with interest by Lamont. The boots were dusty and the soles had some soil clinging to them. But there was no trace of river mud. The boys had found the body on the mudflats and the clothing had mud on it. So, after killing her, the murderer had moved her body, either dragging or carrying it down to the river where a stretch of mud had not yet been covered.

Yes! I thought. The killer had timed this well. Did that indicate a premeditated murder? Had he planned that the water spreading out across the mud would cover the body and destroy evidence? She might have floated or been swept away. If she were later washed ashore, or spotted half-submerged, it would be thought a drowning like Maria Thompson’s. If only the police could have been there before the river covered the site. There would surely have been deep footprints, perhaps a long furrow in the mud showing where the body had been dragged to its resting place. I must ask about that. It was imperative we find the boys who discovered the body. They might have observed something. The parish clerk might have noticed such a mark in the sludge, although he seemed to have been in something of a panic. Harrington, the magistrate, might have kept a cooler head.

‘Must we stay here any longer?’ demanded Lamont with an irritated gesture at our surroundings. ‘I am anxious to return to my wife. This is a time I should be by her side.’

‘Of course. Thank you for coming, sir. One last question – do you know if Miss Sawyer has any relatives who should be informed?’

‘I have no idea. I never heard of any. My wife might know. But Sawyer never asked leave to go visiting anyone. Nor did anyone, to my knowledge, ever come to see her.’

We were outside the shed now, and I saw Morris approaching.

‘Ah,’ I said to Lamont, ‘here is my sergeant.’

Lamont eyed Morris up and down. ‘He is in ordinary clothing, as are you.’

‘We are members of the plainclothes division of the criminal investigation department, sir.’

‘I suppose it’s better than having uniformed men swarming all over the place!’ he muttered.

Morris raised an eyebrow at this discourtesy, and Constable Beck was heard to mumble something we luckily could not catch.

‘I still need to talk to Mrs Lamont,’ I said to Charles Lamont. ‘Especially as she had such a long and close acquaintance with the deceased.’