Death of a Lady (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 1)

by R. A. Bentley

  Once a town of some importance, history and the non-arrival of the railway had reduced Godwinstowe to a sleepy cluster of shops and houses surrounding the parish church. A narrow footway ran alongside the graveyard, and in the shadow of an ancient yew stood Elsie Strong's tiny cottage.

  Mrs Strong proved to be a rotund and amiable lady, in whose cheerful features Felix could see something of Alice. Tea and cakes were provided in the low-beamed kitchen, which appeared to serve also as dining room and parlour. An enclosed staircase rose in one corner, its match-boarded door standing open.

  'I understand from Alice that you were Head Cook at Godwinstowe,' said Felix.

  'I was indeed, sir,' said Mrs Strong, sitting down with them, 'for nigh on thirty year.'

  'May I ask when you left?'

  'Nineteen sixteen. That's official-like, although I'd really gone some months earlier.'

  'Why was that?'

  'I got sick, sir. No-one seemed to know what it was, but I was that thin and weak I could barely stand, and it just went on and on. It was difficult for them, of course, and eventually the Duke asked if I should like to retire with a little pension. He's a lovely man, sir, although they say his brain's going, which he doesn't deserve. Anyway, I agreed. I don't suppose they thought I'd live very long, and neither did I, but here I still am!'

  'Congratulations on proving them wrong, Mrs Strong. Were you happy there, before your illness?'

  'Oh yes, sir, in the old days. We used to have such fun in the hall. There were forty or more of us then, of course, and it was noise and bustle from morning to night. The tricks we used to play on one another, and the gossip! But after Lady Genny went missing, all the life seemed to go out of the place, and when Strong died sudden – he was a coachman there, sir – my heart just went out of it, and then I got sick. I keeps busy, sir, and Alice brings me all the news. Not that there's much of that nowadays, or wasn't until now. But of course you want to know all about poor Lady Genny. It was a terrible thing when our Alice found her. Dick brought her back crying – he's a lovely boy – and I thought maybe she'd leave after that, but she didn't. She's saving up for her bottom drawer, you see. They're not like we were, sir, they wants things, and why not? We expected nothing and that's what we got!

  'Very true, Mrs Strong. Yes, it's Lady Genny I want to talk about. Anything you can tell me about her, and also about the people that worked at the House then. Would you say she was popular with the servants?'

  'Oh yes, sir. She was never no trouble to us and always kind and considerate, right to the last. Except, of course, we didn't know it was the last, God rest her. She wasn't beautiful, like lady George – she's such a lovely girl – but she was nice looking and had some gorgeous clothes and we were always interested in her and what she was up to. Of course, a lot of the time she was off on that horse of hers. She fairly worshipped that animal. They say it was never the same after she'd gone, and Mr Partridge, that's the Duke's agent, persuaded His Grace to sell it. He said it upset him to see it, which I can quite understand. But before that, she was away for a year or so, learning French.'

  'Really? When was that?'

  'Well, let me think. It must have been in about nineteen eleven or twelve. Yes, it was nineteen eleven, because our Alice started school that year. Her parents both died of the influenza, sir, my Alf and poor Fanny – who he doted on, though she was always a bit delicate – and left little Alice an orphan, so it's me as brought her up. She's a good girl to her old gran, sir, and a fair cook herself, though I say it as shouldn't, having taught her. Have some more cake, sir. No? Well, you shall have some to take away with you and some biscuits I made this morning. I just about keeps the village in biscuits. What about you, Sergeant? I'm sure you'd like some. You can scribble and eat at the same time.'

  Felix watched with his usual fascination as Rattigan unblushingly accepted another vast chunk of fruit cake. Where did he put it? 'So when Lady Genny came back from France,' he asked, 'did she go about much? Up to London and so on?'

  'Yes, they've a house there, or had, and they did go up sometimes, for the shows and so on. I don't think she liked it much, but Ginny did. Ginny loved London, sir, and Paris. All those tales she come back with! But Genny was a country girl at heart. You know about Ginny Brown, I daresay, Lady Genny's maid?'

  'Yes, we do. Was she with her mistress all the time, in Paris?'

  'Yes, sir. I think it would have been nine months or more. They came back speaking French like natives. Such a gabble!'

  'Miss Brown learned French as well?'

  'Oh yes. They always had to do everything together, whatever it was. And she was bright, was Ginny. She was an educated girl. I think her father was a parson.'

  'What did you make of her leaving, on the day of the wedding?'

  'Yes, and that was a mystery as well. I don't believe for a moment she just walked out. She would never have left her mistress in the lurch like that, never! I reckon as she was sacked and sent packing.'

  'She and Lady Genny were very close, I gather.'

  'Oh yes, sir, they were like two sisters together. They even looked like sisters, both of them tall and with fair hair. Genny and Ginny we used to call them. If you got one, you got the other. Ginny was such a sweet girl and lovely-looking too. Some of the others said she was stuck up, but she wasn't really; she was just a superior sort of person and didn't know how to talk down. That Hannah Yates was always jealous of her, right from the start. I reckon it was she that got her out. She's a nasty, vicious woman, sir, and I don't care who knows it. They say she's got the Duchess just where she wants her, and I can believe it. Not that she's much better. In fact, if you ask me, those two deserves each other. I was glad to see the back of her, to be honest. I can see you're interested in the pictures, sir. Go and have a look.'

  'May I? Thank you.'

  'Can I just ask you how you heard about Miss Brown leaving?' said Rattigan. 'Would it have been from Miss Yates?'

  'Yes it was. And no-one saw her again, even though she must have been there until the afternoon. It was as though they didn't want her to talk to anybody. I'll tell you something else — she wasn't the only one sacked that day neither. Poor little Henry Fry got his marching orders as well.'

  'Oh? Why was that?' asked Felix. He was studying a wall between two windows, quite filled with framed and mounted photographs. Most were the usual family portraits, but there were also some formal gatherings of Godwinstowe servants and kitchen staff, no doubt taken on high days and holidays, and given pride of place, a picture of Lady Genny and a gaily smiling companion, their arms affectionately linked. Not so much pretty, he thought, peering closely at her, as waiting to be beautiful. Both were expensively and fashionably dressed, with nothing to suggest that they were mistress and maid. He pointed to it. 'Genny and Ginny?'

  'Yes, that's them, sir. They had it took in Paris, the Champs-Élysées. And that thing at the back of them is the Arc du Triomphe. That's what it says on the back anyway. I've got one or two more in an album but that's my favourite because Ginny looks so nice, so I had her get me an enlargement and when it come it was in that lovely frame. I don't know why Henry was sacked, because we never saw him again neither. He was a hall boy, helping the footmen and so on. He was a proper scamp, always in trouble for something or other, so I expect he deserved it, but he was a nice boy and everyone liked him.' She smiled in recollection. 'He used to carry things for the girls in return for kisses. A kiss or a penny, he used to say, though I don't reckon he got many pennies; they didn't have any to give him!'

  Felix smiled.'Not servant material then?'

  Mrs Strong shook her head, amused. 'No, sir. It was his father put him to it, but you have to be a certain sort of person for that life and not mind taking orders. Henry used to talk back and argue, and I expect Mr Legg was glad to be rid of him. He did all right in the end though. He farms out at Welm Meadows; his own land, so they say, and men working for him.'

  'And you've no idea why he left?'

>   'No, but it must have been something that happened above-stairs because he wasn't in the kitchen with us.'

  'Worth having a word with him, sir?' asked Rattigan.

  'Yes, we'd better had. He could well be the boy that Lady George mentioned seeing. Mrs Strong, coming back to Ginny Brown for a moment, did she have a boyfriend, at the time she left?'

  'A boyfriend! Steady, do you mean? Well if she had, she never told me. Then again, there was no reason why she should. She had plenty of admirers though. I'd say nearly every man and boy below stairs was a little bit in love with Ginny. Yes, and maybe above stairs too.'

  'Really? Whom were you thinking of?'

  Mrs Strong looked suddenly coy. 'I'd best not say, sir. It was only foolish talk.'

  'Fair enough. Was Stan Pearson one of her admirers?'

  'Oh dear me!' cried Mrs Strong in alarm. 'I hope I'm not saying too much. None of this will go any further will it? I shouldn't want to embarrass anyone.'

  'No, not at all. You mustn't worry about that. I'm not treating this as a formal interview, unless there's something important that you think we ought to know. It's completely in confidence and no-one else shall hear of it.'

  'Well all right, because it wouldn't be fair. But yes, he was very keen on her, since you ask. She wasn't really interested in him – you could tell – but she did lead him on for a while; flirted with him, as you might say.'

  'Was she like than, then — flirtatious?'

  'Well yes, she could be a bit naughty that way, and I used to say, "Ginny, sweetheart, you want to be careful; you don't know what men are like." Which I did, of course, being twice married. But she didn't mean no harm by it, sir; it was just girlish high spirits. They're not maids for long, and why shouldn't they have a bit of fun while they can? There's little enough of it later.'

  Felix smiled. 'You were fond of her, weren't you?'

  'Yes, sir, very fond. And I was hurt when she went off without saying goodbye. I'd have put her up here if she'd wanted but she just got straight onto Ernie Crabb's trap and went to town and we never saw her again. Can I ask, sir, why you're so interested in her? She can't have had anything to do with Lady Genny's death, can she?'

  'Not directly. We just want to know why she left in the way she did. Also, we'd like to speak to her. She might be able to tell us things that no-one else can. Have you any idea where she might be found?'

  'No, sir, I haven't. I thought she might write, but she never did. I think her folk were all gone but she seldom spoke of them. When you find her, you tell her Elsie Strong wants to hear from her.'

  'That's another slant on Miss Brown's character,' said Rattigan, as they came out into the sunshine. 'Whom do you think has her right?'

  Felix paused to light a cigarette. 'I think we can trust Elsie on that, don't you? I shouldn't think much got past her when she ruled Godwinstowe's kitchen. Why did you ask how she heard about her leaving?'

  'Well, it occurs to me that Miss Yates could have said what she liked about it and no-one to contradict her. We'd do better to ask the Duchess.'

  'Fancy to try then?'

  'Well, er — '

  'That's what I thought. Let's go and see Mr Crabb.'

  Crabb's Transport and Motor Repairs was situated in some outbuildings behind the Duke's Arms. A pair of fuel pumps stood guard at the open double doors but made no challenge as they entered the dark and oil-stained interior. There they found a Beardmore taxi over an inspection pit, a couple of wrecks with their bonnets up and, behind them, a superannuated governess cart, piled with automotive junk. A cluttered desk in one corner served as an office.

  'Anyone there?' Called Rattigan. 'Mr Crabb?'

  'I get the impression,' said Felix, 'that business is not brisk.'

  'It ought to be; this is the only garage in the village.'

  A large motor van puttered in behind them and a thin-faced, middle-aged man in a brown overall got out. 'You looking for me, gents?'

  Mr Crabb, it transpired, was still primarily a carrier, and did only a little repair work, "as a favour."

  'That's mine over the pit. Spends most of its time there, one way and another. I hates motors, if you want the truth. Old Dennis were slow but he never broke down and you knew where you were with him.'

  'And could find his way home, I daresay?' smiled Felix.

  'Yes, he could. And didn't care if you'd had a few jars neither. You've come to talk about Ginny Brown, of course.'

  'Who told you that?'

  'No-one. You'll be looking to see what they missed last time. Stands to reason. That bloke Cobb — bloody useless. Couldn't even find the flippin' body! She couldn't a-done it, though, could she? Her mistress were still alive and kickin' when she left here. Just about cuttin' the wedding cake, very likely.'

  'We don't yet know if it was murder, Mr Crabb. What time was it, when Miss Brown came to you?'

  'About half three, give or take. She were wearin' her town clothes and carryin' a couple of suitcases. She looked like she'd bite a nail in half if you gave her one and she didn't say nothing between here and Welmford.'

  'What about when she paid you?'

  'She gave me the right money and said thank you. I set her down outside the Railway Hotel and she plonked herself on one of they seats they got outside there and looked at me as much as to say, "you may go now, my man," so I did.'

  'Not a happy lady.'

  'She were not.'

  'Did you know her?'

  'Course I knew her. There weren't no-one up at the house we didn't know. Nor now neither. Proper little madam, she were, with her fancy airs and graces. Thought she were one of them, I reckon. I'm not surprised they sacked her.'

  'Did you carry any other passengers that day?'

  Mr Crabb stared at him wide-eyed. 'Did I? It were weddin' day! We had half the flippin' county here. I were back and forth all day. By the time Lady Muck turned up I were knackered and so were Dennis. I very nearly refused.'

  'Yes, of course you were, sorry,' said Felix humbly. 'And out of that lot, do you happen to remember a tall, dark man, foreign or of foreign appearance?'

  'Comin' or goin'?'

  'Possibly both. Coming, anyway.'

  Mr Crabb gave this some consideration. 'Not in robes or summat, like an a-rab?'

  'No, nothing exotic. Possibly French.'

  'No,' he said finally. 'Nobody like that. Not to say there weren't, but I don't remember one. He a suspect, then?'

  'If we decide it was a murder,' said Felix firmly, 'we might want to eliminate him from our enquires. Was anyone else carrying passengers that day?'

  'Yes, Frank Armitage, over Tapstock. We crossed a couple of times. You won't be able to ask him though, he got his at Amiens, poor beggar.'

  Rattigan had been peering into some cars in the corner of the yard. 'These yours?'

  'By the wall? Yes. What's wrong with 'em?'

  'For sale?'

  'Yes, if anyone wants 'em.'

  'How much is the AC?'

  Mr Crabb assumed a noncommittal expression. ' I haven't set a price yet. You could make me an offer.'

  Chapter 11

  True to its name, Dampleaze farm was set among lush water-meadows. Felix was interested to see that the traditional channels and sluices remained in good order and already producing fine, rich grass. Fat kine could be seen grazing contentedly upon it.

  Finding no-one at the farmhouse, they made their way to some outbuildings and peering into the nearest of them discovered a big, handsome woman in white hat and apron, moulding cheese. Not stopping in her work, she called out, 'Henry! Gentlemen for you. He won't be a minute. Was it about the heifers?'

  'No, we're police officers,' said Felix. 'Am I addressing Mrs Fry?'

  Mrs Fry pulled a face. 'Yes, for my sins. You can take him now if you like; he be wicked enough.'

  A huge, bull-like man appeared, similarly attired. 'I heard that, woman!' he bellowed. 'This is Ethel, who hopes to remain my wife. Come about Lady Mortimer, have you? I
thought I might get a visit.'

  'Yes, we have,' said Felix, shaking hands. 'I understand you worked at Godwinstowe, when she disappeared. We're trying to interview everyone who was there then.'

  'Ha! Did they tell you I was sacked that very night? An innocent child, cast into the darkness with only the clothes on his back.'

  'It were next day and his dad fetched him,' corrected Mrs Fry. 'And he gave him a good lamming.'

  Mr Fry rolled his eyes. 'Where's the loyalty, eh? Get us some tea, woman, and learn your place.'

  'Get it yourself, unless you want to do this.'

  They stood a little awkwardly in the farmhouse kitchen.

  'I'm not much of a hand at tea-making,' said Mr Fry, gazing doubtfully at the kettle. 'We've got a girl but I gave her the day off. "Lizzy," I said, "you're looking peaky, go and buy yourself a hat."'

  'That's quite all right, sir,' said Felix, 'we've not long had one.'

  The big man looked relieved. 'Oh good. Come on through then. Who sent you — that Pearson? Dot and Carry One, we used to call him. Fell out of an apple tree, scrumping.'

  'It wasn't Mr Pearson,' smiled Felix.

  'Don't want to tell me? All right.' He led the way down a flagstone-paved passage to a cosy, low-beamed room with fashionable dark oak furniture, clearly new, and a great deal of chintz. There was a well-stocked bookshelf in one corner, and a child's half-completed jigsaw puzzle lay on the hearthrug. 'Sit down, won't you? Where shall I start?'

  'Can we have some details about you first?' said Felix. Your name is Henry Fry of this address. How old were you at the time?'

  'Henry John, after the afore-mentioned child-beater. I was fourteen and paid a shilling a week, plus board. They said I was a runt and no good for farm work so they put me into service.'