The Winter Garden Mystery (14 page)

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Authors: Carola Dunn

BOOK: The Winter Garden Mystery
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“Chief Inspector,” said Ben steadily, “please don't play games with me. I'm sure you are aware, as I am, and as I was then, of Sebastian's involvement with Grace Moss.”
“No games,” Alec blandly assured him. “Mr. Parslow asked me not to divulge his disclosures to you.”
Ben seemed puzzled. “Then I don't know what he has told you,
but I knew he felt his position had become untenable and he was decidedly relieved to get away.”
“You knew before the inquest that Grace was pregnant?”
“N-no.” For a moment he looked older, tired and ill, then he rallied. “Only that he was anxious to break off with her. I suggested he should find a pretext to ask Lady Valeria to give her notice, but he dreaded his mother learning about the affair. Besides,” he added ironically, “whatever her faults, Grace was an excellent parlourmaid whom even Lady Valeria would not lightly dismiss.”
“Her ladyship was ignorant of the affair?”
“He thought so. I thought not, but of course I couldn't be sure.”
“Mr. Parslow seems to confide in you a great deal, Mr. Goodman.”
“You have obviously learned a great deal about the family, Chief Inspector,” Ben said pointedly. “In his circumstances, are you surprised?”
“Perhaps not,” Alec admitted.
He went on to ask a few questions about Sir Reginald. Ben obviously regarded his nominal employer with fond amusement, mingled with respect for his expertise in his chosen sphere and a touch of exasperation at his inability to stand up to his wife.
Daisy doubted whether Sir Reginald, a benevolent but inattentive father, had more than an inkling of what was going on in his household.
“I'd better see him next,” Alec said, “since the ladies of the house are out. How do I get to the dairy?”
“You can drive,” Ben told him, “but you have to go right around the park so it's much quicker to walk if you don't mind the rain. It's less than half a mile on foot—just far enough for the noise and smells not to trouble her ladyship. Ask Moody for an umbrella if you haven't brought one.” He explained how to find the footpath Sir Reginald used several times each day.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Goodman.” Alec stood up. “We'll
leave you to your paper-work. I just wish I could send you to London to deal with mine.”
Daisy smiled at Ben, then she and Alec left the library together.
“He's worth ten of Parslow,” Alec observed as they returned to the Long Hall. “It's a pity Lady Valeria refused to take him south. He looks a bit dicky to me.”
“He seemed quite well when I first met him,” Daisy said. “I think seeing the body in the trench must have revived memories of the War. I know people who still have nightmares about the trenches.”
“Yes, I was really better off up there in my paper and string kite. Oh, here are your photos, minus the body in the trench.”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you for them?”
“It's on Scotland Yard.”
“Spiffing!” Daisy returned to business. “I'm glad Ben couldn't have done it.”
Alec raised his fierce eyebrows at her. “He couldn't?”
“I shouldn't think he's strong enough, for a start.”
“With the right weapon, it doesn't take vast strength to crush a skull. As for the digging, desperation lends strength, and whoever did it must have been desperate to conceal the body.”
“But he had no motive.”
“We may yet discover one.”
“And he needn't have shown me the Winter Garden, nor told Owen to show me when he was called away.”
“That's not a convincing … . Great Scott!”
“You there!” From the Yellow Parlour a whirlwind in a purple rain-cape erupted and stormed towards them. “You! Inspector Treacher, or whatever you call yourself.”
“Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, ma'‘am, C.I.D.” Despite his start on seeing Lady Valeria, Alec spoke calmly. Daisy decided he'd be better off without her to worry about so she stepped aside, pretending to study one of the portraits on the wall. Nothing in the world could have made her leave.
“What the dickens do you mean by it, Fester,” she trumpeted, eyes glittering in a face suffused with fury, “sneaking into my house without permission in my absence? That's a crime, C.I.D. or no C.I.D.”
“Your servant admitted me, Lady Valeria. I have spoken to your son, who is not, I think, a minor.”
“Without a solicitor present!”
“There's no question of charges,” said Alec mildly, “at present.”
“Charges—I should think not!”
“But if you wish to contact your solicitor … .”
“Certainly not. That pusillanimous poltroon would only advise me to cooperate with the police, which I have no intention whatever of doing. Your presence in my house is absolutely unjustifiable. Kindly leave at once.”
“I'd prefer not to have to invite you to accompany me to a police station for an interview, ma'am. Certain matters which have been brought to our attention … .”
“Rumours! Gossip! Since when do your precious police listen to tittle-tattle?”
“Oh, since forever, ma'am. How else should we ever find out what's going on? But in this case, Mr. Parslow has confirmed that he was … intimately connected with Grace Moss. You cannot expect us to overlook that.”
Lady Valeria attempted a frank bonhomie. “Young gentlemen have been seducing serving maids since forever, Inspector. It hardly calls for a police investigation.”
“When the serving maid becomes the victim of murder, ma'am, it most certainly does. Further, when the young gentleman admits that she extracted a promise of marriage, which he had no intention of carrying out; when he admits to … .”
Bonhomie vanished. “How dare you!”
“When he admits to having told his sister and his mother of his plight and claims they offered to deal with … .”
“You have bullied my poor boy into making up these ridiculous
stories! You seem to believe you can treat me and my family as you treat the riffraff, forcing false confessions for the sake of solving your case. I'll have you thrown out of the force for threatening respectable people. If you don't drop this nonsense at once, I shall telephone your superiors at Scotland Yard.”
Alec's response was blandly unconcerned. “Go ahead, ma'am.”
Daisy couldn't contain her ire, though she did her best to hide it, knowing it would not impress Lady Valeria. Joining them, she said sweetly, “I shouldn't waste the effort if I were you. I'm perfectly prepared to swear on oath that Chief Inspector Fletcher's behaviour was perfectly proper. If you complain, they'll only assume you have something to hide.”
“I have nothing to hide.” All the same, her bombast was noticeably diminished. “I found my son distraught. I merely wish to protect him from Machiavellian manipulation and protest against … .” Her protest died away as she turned a sudden scowl on Daisy. “But what is your role in this, Miss Dalrymple? You are a guest at Occles Hall. What do you know of this wretched business?”
“At Sebastian's request, I was present when the Chief Inspector interviewed him.” Daisy was perfectly prepared to reveal her part in summoning Scotland Yard, but as she opened her mouth to continue, Alec silenced her with a barely perceptible shake of the head.
“Miss Dalrymple has observed my work in the past,” he said smoothly. “She knows I threaten no one. I ask questions. Since … .”
“You're in league with this detective?” Lady Valeria demanded, outraged anew. She drew herself up to her full, impressive height and said haughtily, “I'm afraid, Miss Dalrymple, I must ask you to leave.”
“I'm afraid, Lady Valeria,” said Alec, “I must ask everyone to stay until my investigation is completed.”
She gaped at him, apparently too taken aback by his presumption to think of suggesting that Daisy remove herself to the inn.
“Since you have nothing to hide,” he continued, “you can have no objection to answering my questions.”
But that was trying her too high. “Bosh!” she exploded. “If you're expecting me to pay the least heed to your impertinent inquisition, you may wait until Doomsday.” And in a swirl of purple cape she stalked out.
“W
hew!”Alec wiped his brow with an exaggerated gesture.
“Oh, rot,” said Daisy, “she didn't rattle you in the least. You didn't turn a hair.”
“Well, no, though I was quite glad to have you as witness to the propriety of my behaviour. Can you imagine young Adonis in the witness box swearing to police brutality?”
“You see, I
am
useful,” she hastened to point out. “Thanks for not letting her give me the old heave-ho. I really thought I'd had it, though in the circs I can't honestly blame her.”
“Not for that, no, but what a virago! I can see why half the county cries craven at the prospect of crossing her. And while she may not have rattled me, nor did she give me any answers. I particularly want to know why she suddenly put forward their departure for the Riviera.”
“You'll get what you want. You're irresistible.” What could have been a horribly embarrassing statement was spoken so absently that Alec didn't feel called upon to blush. It quickly became apparent Daisy was still pondering the social implications of staying on in a house where her hostess wished her gone. “I feel like a frightful snake in the grass, or cuckoo in the nest, or something. On the other hand,
I'd feel worse if Lady Valeria had ever really welcomed me or gone out of her way to help.”
“She hasn't?” He had a sudden sense of being poised on the edge of understanding this curious family.
“Not at all. Bobbie invited me, with her father's concurrence, and her mother was furious because she hadn't been consulted. Also, she disapproves of working women—‘well-bred' women, that is,” Daisy added apologetically. “I gather she's afraid Bobbie might follow my example.”
“A truly shocking example.”
Daisy wrinkled her adorably freckled nose at him. Irresistible, indeed! “Well, my mother feels the same way,” she admitted. “The other thing is, I think Lady Valeria may also wish me away because she doesn't like Sebastian to meet eligible girls. She's fearfully possessive, and if he married he'd escape from under her thumb, at least to some degree. Not that I flatter myself he's at all attracted to me!”
“No?” Alec made his voice carefully casual. “And you to him?”
“No, though I was just a bit at first. But he hasn't got the character to go with his looks, has he? Still, he did make me welcome and I listened to his confession to you under false pretenses. I think I'd better make my peace with him myself, if you don't mind.”
“And even if I do, no doubt. All right, go and talk to him, but no questions, mind. And make sure he knows I know you're with him. I don't want to be digging your body out of the Winter Garden.”
The freckles stood out on her suddenly pale face. She shook her head violently. “No, he wouldn't! I don't think he possesses a temper, and even if he does, the only thing in the Yellow Parlour he could hit me with is the backgammon board.”
Alec smiled but said seriously, “Be careful, Daisy. I'm pretty sure you're in no danger now that I'm here, but I'd never forgive myself if you were hurt. I'm going down to the dairy to see Sir Reginald.”
Since she didn't beg him to wait for her, he guessed she considered the baronet a highly unlikely suspect. He might have useful information, though; or she might be wrong.
The moment Daisy saw Sebastian, she was sure she wasn't wrong about him. No one could have looked less like a brutal murderer. He was still sitting in the chair by the backgammon board, his forehead pillowed on his folded arms on the edge of the table, his bowed shoulders shaking.
She was about to back hurriedly out but he heard her and raised his head, though he kept his face turned away from her. “Daisy?” he said in a thick voice.
“Yes, I … .”
“I knew you'd come back to finish the game. I'm afraid I've knocked the pieces all over the place.”
“It doesn't matter. I have something to say to you but it can wait.”
“No, it's all right. Come in.” He straightened, made a half-hearted effort to rise.
“Don't get up.” She crossed to the chair opposite him and sat down. Fidgeting with the backgammon pieces, she carefully kept her eyes from his face, but a brief glimpse had showed her red-rimmed eyes and eyelashes spiked with tears. “I want to apologize. I ought to have made it clear to you that I know Chief Inspector Fletcher. In fact, I asked him to come because I don't believe Owen Morgan killed Grace.”
“That's all right. It doesn't make any difference. Nothing makes any difference,” Sebastian said hopelessly, “except that somehow my mother manages to make everything seem ten times worse.”
“I know what you mean,” she said with sympathy. “My mother's difficult, too, though in a different way.” Mentally she begged pardon of the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, who was a saint compared to Lady Valeria.
“Is she?” He brightened, as if it had never dawned on him that other people had awkward parents. “Does she treat you like a child and stop you doing everything worthwhile or interesting or … or just that you want to do?”
“She tries. I don't let her.” Daisy had not forgotten her promise not to interfere, but her promise was to Alec and concerned the case.
What was on her mind now had nothing to do with the case. “Lady Valeria can't really stop you, if you stand up to her and stick to your guns. You're of age and Bobbie told me you have money of your own.”
“Not a great deal.”
“I'm sure she said you have enough to live on.”
“Yes, but … .” He bit his lip fiercely, fighting for composure. “Thank you for your encouragement, but you don't—you
can't
understand. There are other problems … .”
Lady Valeria came in. Daisy could have killed her.
She looked as if she could have killed Daisy. If looks could kill, Alec would have had to dig up another body in the Winter Garden.
“So, Miss Dalrymple, you have taken your accomplice's place in victimizing my son.”
“Oh no, Mater, Daisy … .”
“My poor boy, you have been hoodwinked in the most despicable fashion. Miss Dalrymple is in league with the police. Don't worry, your mother will make sure no harm comes of it. Miss Dalrymple, I must ask you to pack your bags at once. If Inspector Fetter refuses to allow you to leave, no doubt you will be able to persuade the Cheshire Cheese to give you a room.”
“No!” said Sebastian loudly, stepping between Daisy and his mother. “Daisy isn't trying to hoodwink me. She has told me she's acquainted with Chief Inspector Fletcher.”
“Nonetheless, she cannot remain at Occles Hall.”
It was against Daisy's principles to let a man defend her, but she decided the experience was good for Sebastian. She congratulated herself on the unexpectedly rapid effect of her words of encouragement.
“You'd never let Bobbie stay alone at an inn,” he expostulated.
“I see no reason why Miss Dalrymple should not, since she chooses to set herself up as an independent woman. I dare say she frequently puts up at hostelries, and at least one of her gentleman-friends is already in residence at the Cheshire Cheese.”
“Oh yes, Petrie. Then she can't possibly go there.”
“Of course she can, Sebastian. She
claims
Phillip Petrie is like a brother to her. Don't be difficult, there's a good boy.”
Treated as a child, Sebastian lapsed into childish sulkiness. “But I want her to stay here. I like her. She's a friend. You never let me have any friends.”
Lady Valeria threw Daisy an ingratiating smile, which nearly succeeded where her murderous look had failed—in killing Daisy from shock. “Now stop being silly, dear,” she said. “Of course you may have friends. I suppose it can't hurt if Miss Dalrymple stays another day or two. I expect you have work to do on your article, Miss Dalrymple,” she added pointedly. “Shall you and I have a nice, quiet game of backgammon, Sebastian?”
He looked as if he'd have liked to refuse but under his mother's gaze, at once steely and indulgent, he wilted and agreed. Daisy went upstairs, wondering whether Lady Valeria would let her little boy win the game.
She did in fact have work to do on her article, so she sat down at her typewriter, rolled in a blank sheet of paper—and sat staring at it. What on earth had Sebastian been talking about? If he had enough to live on, what other problems had he besides his inability to withstand his mother's ragging? Why was he so nervous and so desperately miserable?
All she could think of was that he had killed Grace and lived in imminent expectation of arrest.
After half an hour, the sheet of paper was no longer blank. One and a half sentences stared back at her. Nor was she any wiser with regard to Sebastian or the murder, having passed the time watching a pair of newly arrived mallards swimming happily on the moat in the rain. In spite of the continuing drizzle, she decided to go to meet Alec.
Leaving her room, she saw Gregg just going into Bobbie's room with a pile of clean laundry.
“Oh, Gregg, has Miss Roberta come home?” she called.
The maid turned, looking flustered. “No, miss.”
“Do you happen to know where she went?”
“I'm sure I couldn't say, miss.” Her gaze dropped evasively.
“You mean you don't know?” Daisy demanded.
“That I don't, miss, honest.”
“You know something about her absence though, don't you?”
“Oh miss, she made me swear not to tell, for fear her ladyship'd find out.”
“You must be aware the police are in the house, asking questions,” Daisy said sternly.
“Yes, miss, I already saw that Detective Piper, but it wasn't today he asked about. He wanted to know did I see Miss Roberta or her ladyship the evening Gracie disappeared. Or anyone else, come to that.”
“And did you?”
“No, miss. I packed her ladyship's trunk, but she always takes just the same stuff every year so she didn't have to be on the spot. Then I went to pack my own bag. They don't neither of them hardly ever need me at bedtime so I stayed in my room, resting up for the journey. Travelling with her ladyship's no picnic, miss.”
“The very thought boggles the mind,” Daisy conceded with a shudder, and she went on her way. She couldn't see how extracting Bobbie's secret from Gregg would help Alec, since all he had to do was ask Bobbie when she returned, if he was interested. A secret to be kept from Lady Valeria was not necessarily of any significance to anyone else. Under her red umbrella, she set off down the path Ben had described. It took her through a copse, winding between leafless oaks and ashes, and hazel bushes bright with dangling yellow catkins. She emerged from the trees to the sound of cattle lowing. A slow procession of black-and-white cows, followed by a matching dog and a man, was approaching a collection of low brick buildings surrounded by a wooden rail-and-post fence. As they entered the enclosure by a wide
gate to Daisy's left, Alec came through a kissing gate straight in front of her.
She wished she had arrived just a few minutes sooner. Of course, Alec was a townsman and might not know the swinging gate in the V-shaped enclosure was called a kissing gate, and even if he did … .
He raised in greeting the hand that wasn't holding up a huge black umbrella. “Hullo! Nothing the matter, I hope?”
“No, I just felt like a breath of fresh air.” She turned back as he joined her.
Their umbrellas kept bumping, so she closed hers and moved under his. Walking became much easier when she tucked her hand through his arm. He smiled down at her.
“Did Sir Reginald say anything useful?” she asked, trying to pretend they always walked arm in arm.
“Not a word. Grace's disappearance and the departure next day of his wife and son altogether failed to impress December 13th on his memory. His records did confirm that it was a mild day, and revealed that a champion milker by the name of Gloriosa had a near-record percentage of butterfat in her milk.”
Daisy giggled. “I can't say I'm awfully surprised.”
“He's a nice old buffer with a one-track mind, who goes to bed at ten because his cows get up early. How did Sebastian take your confession?”
“Actually, he didn't care. He really has the wind up and he seemed to think my part in your arrival was pretty irrelevant.” She decided Sebastian's troubles with his mother and her own advice were irrelevant to Alec.
“Do you think he's in a flap on his own account? Or because he knows or fears his mother or sister killed Grace for his sake?”
“Goodness only knows! I should think that might be enough to give him the willies.”
“Incidentally, is Miss Parslow back yet?” Alec asked as they left the copse and approached the house.

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