The Unpleasantness at Baskerville Hall (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries Book 4) (30 page)

Selden was successfully handcuffed and, with his catnip mouse tucked into what remained of his shirt, hauled away. Two warders were despatched to search the track between the quarry, High Dudgeon Farm and the Hall, and given orders to detain anyone they saw.

“I’d like to keep Selden here at the studio if it be all right with you, Sir Henry,” said Sergeant Stock. “There be a good strong basement to lock him up in, and we can take him back to the prison in the morning.”

Henry agreed and the four of us picked up our guns and blankets and headed back towards the Hall. The two warders searched both tracks, but never caught sight of a soul.

“What do we do about Berrymore?” asked Henry. “Do we question him now or in the morning?”

“One should never question a suspect on an empty stomach,” I said. “We’ll question him after breakfast.”

“What about the rope scene?” asked Emmeline. “Everyone’s expecting it. How is Henry going to explain cancelling it?”

Reeves coughed. “If I may, sir, miss, I would suggest that Sir Henry tell people that the rope was severely chewed during Selden’s apprehension and is unusable.”

~

I had barely applied the Worcester bean to the pillow before Reeves awakened me with the early-morning oolong. A situation which would normally have left me somewhat fogged and lacking in the vital spirit. But I was a chap with a target on his pyjamas, and that wakes a chap up pretty smartish.

“We have tried being clever, Reeves,” I said, sitting up in bed. “And your plan was the very Everest of clever, impossible to top. Any other plan would be a mere Kilimanjaro or one of those lesser spotted varieties of pinnacles doomed to failure. No, Reeves, we must push aside being clever, and deploy the unexpected.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t wish to spend the next ten days with a target on my back. We have to bring things to a head. And you know what that means.”

“No, sir.”

“The
dénouement
, Reeves. I shall announce it at breakfast.”

“Would that not be premature, sir?”

“Defeatist talk, Reeves. We may not know the identity of the murderer, but the murderer doesn’t know that. We shall keep them off balance, draw them out and they shall reveal themselves.”

“Are you certain, sir?”

“Positive. The
dénouement
is a powerful tool. Even Moriarty would feel a certain chilliness of the corpuscles if called upon to attend.”

“I believe it usual, sir, for the detective to
know
the identity of the murderer before commencing the
dénouement
.”

“You believe wrong, Reeves. Lady Agatha MacTweedie rarely knows who did it. She often waits for the spirits to come to her — usually during her final costume change. Sometimes she even speaks in tongues, and nothing unsettles a murderer more than a detective speaking in tongues.”

“So I would imagine, sir.”

“Not that I plan to speak in tongues. Or wait for a tip from a roving spirit guide. But an accusing look and a good deal of finger pointing can achieve wonders. The trick is to give the impression that one knows a jolly sight more than one actually does.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Knowledge is power, Reeves. And the appearance of knowledge is power without all that absolute corruption business.”

“Sir?”

“I think I shall stage the
dénouement
at noon. That’ll give us time to get all the suspects assembled. I want everyone there, Reeves. We can use Sergeant Stock to chivvy along any dissenters.”

“I strongly advise that you postpone this
dénouement
until tomorrow, sir. There is still much that we do not know, and a premature confrontation may delay the conclusion of this case.”

“My mind is made up, Reeves.”

Reeves put on his sniffy face. “They stumble that run fast, sir.”

“And it’s the early bird that slaps the cuffs on the worm, Reeves.”

Sometimes one has to be firm.

~

Reeves was still in a sulk when I left for breakfast. Harsh eyebrows had been exchanged. And he’d laid out my grey socks when he knew perfectly well that a
dénouement
called for something a little brighter in the ankle department.

At the breakfast table, Selden’s capture was the main topic of c. Even Lady Julia was pleased.

“Perhaps now we’ll have fewer armed footmen on the premises,” she said. “I was beginning to think we were in the midst of a peasants’ revolt.”

I shovelled three kippers onto my plate. I’d need all the brain food I could swallow.

“It’s a shame you had to postpone the rope scene, Henry,” said Lily. “I was looking forward to it.”

I sensed an opportunity and seized upon it.

“There never was going to be a rope scene,” I said, turning to have a good view of all the faces at the table.

“What do you mean?” said Ida, looking puzzled.

“It was a ruse,” I said, affecting the nonchalant confidence of the suave boulevardier. “I needed one more piece of evidence to determine the murderer’s identity. Now I have it, there’s no need for any rope scene.”

I looked from face to face. There was surprise, shock, and a good deal of confusion. I had hoped someone might have choked on a kipper and made a run for it, but one can’t have everything.

“What is the idiot boy talking about now?” asked Lady Julia.

“My investigation into the murder of Sir Robert, Aunt Julia,” I said. “It’s now concluded. I know who did it.”

“You mean it
was
Selden?” asked Ida.

“No, not Selden. I shall reveal all at noon, if that’s all right with you, Henry?”

“Er ... yes, of course,” said Henry, looking as surprised as everyone else.

“Splendid,” I said. “We shall have the
dénouement
at noon then. Here, in the dining room, I think. Everyone’s invited.”

“What’s a
dénouement
?” asked Ida.

“It’s the scene where the detective gathers all the suspects together and reveals who done it,” said Emmeline.

“Suspects?” said Lady Julia in her Lady Bracknell voice. “You’re surely not suggesting that any of
us
are suspects.”

“A good detective suspects everyone, Aunt Julia,” I said, picking up my plate and strolling tablewards to take the vacant spot next to Emmeline.

“Henry, you can’t possibly sanction this,” said Lady Julia. “The boy’s an idiot.”

“Roderick is not an idiot,” said Henry. “He and his man were instrumental in the apprehension of Selden last night.”

“But Henry...” said Lady Julia. “What kind of people is he going to invite? And what’s he going to say to them?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out at noon,” said Henry. “Personally, I feel the sooner this business is concluded the better. It wouldn’t be right for the governor to be interred with none of us knowing who’d done for him.”

Lady Julia shook her head and gave me the kind of look that came with its own pin and wax effigy.

“So who did it?” Ida asked me. “Surely you can give us a clue?”

“I can give you
one
clue,” I said. “The murderer will be here, in this very room, at noon.”

~

As soon as breakfast finished, Henry drew me aside. “Do you still want to question Berrymore?” he asked.

“I do.”

Henry called Berrymore over and asked him to accompany us to the library.

“Close the door, Berrymore,” Henry said as soon as we were alone. “Mister Roderick has a few questions to put to you.”

The upper slopes of Berrymore swayed somewhat. He’d been in attendance at breakfast so he knew all about the impending
dénouement
.

“First off, Berrymore,” I said. “I’d like all the servants, including Trelawny, present in the dining room at noon.”

“
All
of them, sir?” said Berrymore looking at Henry.

“If Mister Roderick wants all of them, he shall have all of them,” said Henry.

“Very well, sir,”

“Right ho,” I said. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, did you have a pleasant walk last night, Berrymore?”

“Sir?”

“It’s no use denying it. I saw you. And...” I paused to narrow the old eyes and give him the steeliest of looks. “I know all, Berrymore.”

Berrymore’s face turned ashen and he swallowed hard. “I can explain,” he said, turning to his master. “We didn’t mean any harm, but it was breaking her heart.”

“Who’s heart?” asked Henry.

“Maggie’s, sir. Mrs Berrymore. She’s ... she’s Selden’s mother.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

“You’re Selden’s father?” I said, not seeing any family resemblance whatsoever. Berrymore was more of a giraffe than a cat.

“No, sir. The lad’s Maggie’s from her first husband. Mr Selden. He died when Harry was a small boy. Maggie and I met in service in London. We got married nine years ago and came down here to be near the boy.”

“So it was you putting the milk out for him?” I said.

“Yes,” said Berrymore, his head bowed. “We couldn’t let him starve. We know he’s eaten a few more people than he should have, but, to Mrs Berrymore, he’s still the little boy who used to curl up on a sunny windowsill, and roll over to have his stomach scratched.”

I turned to Henry. “Did Dr Morrow ever say anything about recognising Mrs Berrymore?”

“No, he did not,” said Henry.

“They never met, sir,” said Berrymore. “Harry had left home. He ... he was in the asylum when he met Dr Morrow. And a black day that was, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.”

“You blame Dr Morrow for Harry’s condition?” I asked.

“He’s the one that gave him the potion, sir! And the ears and the tail. What kind of man does that to another? I’m sorry, sir, I know I’m speaking out of line, but it’s not
right
what he did. Not right at all.”

“I’m sure he was only trying to help,” said Henry.

“That’s as maybe, sir, but Harry was a gentle boy — a bit strange, not everyone liked the way he’d rub up against people’s legs when he came into a room — but gentle, until that doctor turned him into a killer!”

I waited for Berrymore to compose himself. Murgatroyd of the Yard wouldn’t have approved, but I felt for the ancient butler.

“Did you ever see anything unusual when you were out and about on these milk errands?” I asked.

“No, sir.”

“How is Mrs Berrymore?” asked Henry. “I heard she had taken to her bed.”

“She has, sir. The news of the lad’s capture proved too much for her. She’s relieved, I’m sure, and will soon recover, but for now ... it’s like a dam’s burst, sir. Everything she’s been a-bottling up for the last two days has come pouring out. An hour or two by herself and she’ll be right as rain.”

~

Emmeline was waiting for me by the stairs.

“Do you really know who did it?” she asked.

I looked about us to make sure no one could overhear. “Not yet,” I said. “But I’m sure it will come to me. I’ve had three kippers for breakfast, and I intend to break into the cocktails soon. I’ll be overflowing with ideas by noon.”

“What does Reeves say?”

I snorted. “Reeves and I have had a difference of opinion. He thinks we should wait. I suspect he’s lining up a scene where I’m dangled in front of bears.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t be real bears. And if they were, I’d make sure they were well-fed beforehand.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“Feeding bears is the least a girl can do for her intended. Is everyone coming to the
dénouement?
”

“I’ve arranged it with Henry,” I said. “Tom’s going to the quarry now to ask Sergeant Stock to attend, and they’ll both stop off at High Dudgeon Farm to invite Stapleford and Falconbridge. At the point of a truncheon if need be.”

Twenty-Eight

veryone was there. The Baskerville-Smythes and guests took the seats, the servants stood around the walls, and Lupin occupied the pelmet. In case anyone tried to make a run for it, Sergeant Stock and Berrymore guarded the two doors while Babbacombe and Witheridge blocked the windows.

The
dénouement
could begin. As soon as I took another stiffener.

Reeves hovered mid-snootful. “If I may speak, sir, I have something—”

I’d heard this all before, so I raised a stern finger. This was not a time for doubt or discussion. This was a time for action. And gin.

I quietened the room.

“This has been an exceptional case,” I said, starting off with a lapel grasped in each hand. I was going for suave yet erudite. I had thought of wearing Henry’s white hat, but I’m not sure if one can pull off that kind of thing indoors.

“For those of you who’ve never attended a
dénouement
before, this is the bit where I — the detective, that’s me — explains all, and unmasks the murderer — or, indeed, murderers.”

“Do get on with it,” said Lady Julia.

I waggled a reproachful finger at her. Something I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing earlier, but after five stiffeners, she was beginning to look a dashed sight less formidable.

“The murderer is in this room,” I continued. “They know who they are. And so do I.”