Death at the Wychbourne Follies

by Amy Myers

  ‘Even though they have confessed, do you have other evidence than the mackintosh?’ Lord Ansley asked. ‘It could surely have belonged to any of your other suspects.’

  ‘We do. We have, for instance, traced the shop where the mackintosh was bought. They remember Miss Paget. I have to admit, however, that motivation made us look at Mr Heydock first as a suspect.’

  ‘Not Mr Trotter?’ Nell enquired innocently.

  ‘Not on account of murder anyway. Perhaps my colleagues investigating fraud will be active on his account.’

  ‘Poor Mr Trotter,’ Lady Ansley said. ‘I feel quite affectionate towards him now. The sad thing is that I do believe he has some strange powers and certainly Clarice does. There was after all that most strange movement of the table at the Great Hall tribunal.’

  Nell agreed, but strange phenomena were not evidence of Mr Trotter’s integrity. ‘What about Mr Jarrett, Inspector?’ she asked instead. ‘Have they confessed to killing him too and do you have evidence?’

  ‘Again only their confessions. Almost eagerly given as far as Alice Maxwell is concerned. She and Jarrett were always rivals, as is generally known, and each was determined to be the first of them to be recognized by the King for their services to the stage. Imagine therefore her consternation when after she had gone to such lengths to avenge the death of Mary Ann Darling and thus rid herself of her blackmailer, Mr Jarrett then took on his mantle by threatening to reveal her relationship with Miss Paget. That might not have shaken the theatre world but would certainly have ruled out the granting of an honour. Queen Victoria might not have recognized that such relationships took place, but Queen Mary and King George are made of more practical stuff.

  ‘That was bad enough,’ he continued, ‘but then, as we know, she discovered that it was not Tobias Rocke alone, but Jarrett who made Mary Ann’s life miserable, in Jarrett’s case by harassing her. It is true that Hubert Jarrett was then a young man but not so young that one can merely dismiss his attachment as puppy love. If I may say this of your former friend, Lady Ansley, his need for power over his wife suggests far otherwise. Mary Ann had rejected his advances and for someone of Jarrett’s disposition that was no more acceptable than it had been to Tobias Rocke. When in addition to his threats Miss Maxwell discovered he was Mary Ann’s stalker, that sealed her rival’s fate.’

  ‘Cheyne Gardens,’ Nell exclaimed. That was what had stuck in her mind after the inquest on Tobias Rocke. It hadn’t fitted.

  ‘Yes, Miss Drury, Cheyne Gardens. No one, save the Gaiety Guv’nor himself, knew where Mary Ann lived,’ the inspector continued. ‘Not even her great friend Alice Maxwell. And yet Hubert Jarrett knew.’

  ‘And so Alice put the arsenic in his food?’ Lord Ansley asked.

  ‘Yes. Knowing from Mrs Palmer’s invitation that they would be coming to the Coach and Horses for the funeral gathering, she and Doris Paget were able to make plans; all they needed was an opportunity to poison him and to delay the death if they could, though that wasn’t essential. The perfect chance arose when they received the funeral announcement about the Coach and Horses gathering and Lady Ansley then spoke to Miss Maxwell on the telephone about the arrangements; Miss Maxwell was able to offer Doris Paget’s services. They brought the poison with them – a possibility you suggested, Miss Drury – which had been inserted into a sandwich of the kind of bread used locally in Wychbourne. All Miss Paget had to do was add the shrimp filling when she arrived. She went straight to the pub to get the lie of the land and realized she could just slip the sandwich on a plate and offer it to Mr Jarrett.’ He paused. ‘I repeat that Wychbourne was not the source of the rat poison, Lord Ansley, and your kitchens, Miss Drury, are blameless.’

  ‘I’m most grateful,’ Nell said solemnly.

  ‘And now, Lord Ansley, Lady Ansley, shall we dine?’

  ‘No arsenic, if you please, Chief Inspector,’ Lady Ansley replied.

  ‘Foie gras, I do assure you, and the best champagne.’

  Alex politely took Lady Ansley’s arm and with Nell following with Lord Ansley, they were conducted by the maitre d’ up the stairs to the first floor, where he stopped by the door of a room on the right.

  ‘By George,’ Lord Ansley said, ‘this is the same room, isn’t it? I’ve often visited Romano’s since but always avoided this floor. Did it have to be here, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘I realize that it will bring back sad memories,’ Alex said, ‘but despite that, I hope you will enjoy it. I also hope you will not object to my having invited two other guests, one of whom worked here with Signor Murano in former years, although he now lives in southern France. The wine will be from his own vineyard, as he learned much about wine from Romano’s. Lady Ansley, Miss Drury, Lord Ansley, may I introduce Madame la Marquise and Monsieur le Marquis de Vaucluse.’

  What on earth was this about? Why invite strangers? Nell wondered, even such interesting guests. The Marquis was a tall man in his mid-fifties and the fair-haired Marquise with her lively eyes was about the same age. This was yet another mystery from Alex Melbray. She sensed he was holding something back but couldn’t even begin to guess what it was. And then Alex Melbray told them.

  ‘You know her better as Mary Ann Darling.’

  The room spun around her and it wasn’t just the cocktail. Nell was sure of that at least. Had she misheard? No, she could see Lord Ansley was smiling, advancing towards the Marquise.

  ‘Mary Ann,’ he murmured.

  She hadn’t misheard. This really was Mary Ann Darling. Not murdered, but very much alive and here, smiling but a little anxious too.

  ‘You must forgive me, Lady Ansley, Gerald and Miss Drury too, for remaining silent so long,’ she said.

  Lady Ansley’s face changed from shock to warmth. ‘Madame la Marquise, I took over your part in The Flower Shop Girl. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I know you did. I read it in the magazines and was delighted. I saw your photographs and knew you were right for the part and that I would like to meet you and now I have. I longed for the opportunity to do so and to tell my friends that I was safe and happy. But I could not, while that man was alive, not even Gerald.’

  ‘We feared you were dead, Mary Ann.’ His voice was choked with emotion.

  ‘Thanks to Louis and to you, Gerald, and dear Neville, I am not. You were the only ones I trusted. I was so sad that you believed I had met my death. The inspector tells me that it was my former landlady who reported me missing, as the Guv’nor, bless him, must have left that job to her. So it was she who was called on to identify that body and she seized the opportunity probably to enrich herself. My estate, such as it was, went to the Crown as my family could not be traced, but I suspect that my valuable jewellery could well have crept into my landlady’s pockets.

  ‘Tobias Rocke, I fear,’ she continued, ‘purposely misled Alice by telling her he had murdered me. When that body was found he used that dead body for his own ends. Poor woman, whoever she was. I believe that there was more to it than just his wish to infuriate Alice, however. If he could believe me dead and the investigation into my disappearance closed, he would find it easier to forget that the charms of the great Tobias Rocke had been rejected. He loved power over other people and that can be an evil thing, dear friends. It is at its worst when challenged. And love can lead to evil too. Poor Alice did indeed love me. But because of that she murdered two people and that I cannot forgive her – or myself for being its object.’

  ‘No, Madame, she did it for herself, not you,’ Lady Ansley said. ‘She couldn’t reach your heart and took out her rage on others.’

  Mary Ann bowed her head. ‘Thank you, Lady Ansley. My silence has brought unhappiness to others that I did not intend. Tobias Rocke was still active, however. He would not have forgotten the way I slighted him, as he saw it. Despite the distress I inadvertently caused, however, the plan for my disappearance worked perfectly, and dear Louis and I have been happy ever since.’

  ‘May we know what happened after you left
us that night?’ Lord Ansley asked.

  ‘The cab driver of the first cab originally intended for me was a friend of mine,’ she explained. ‘Louis arranged with him to draw up by Romano’s door after our own cab was in place. Our friend told the truth. His cab was empty when it arrived at my lodgings. Louis’s and my cab took us to the Embankment Gardens only. There I changed my coat, put on a wig and different hat, all rather shabby, and Louis too was clad in everyday clothes. We walked up Villiers Street to Charing Cross railway station, where we had left our luggage; the night service to Paris had already left, and so we took a train to Dover, stayed the night there and took the Paris connection the following day. Now we live near Avignon. We are lucky. We have three children, and one of them is a singer.’

  She smiled at Lady Ansley. ‘But she does not sing “Song of My Heart”. I can hear the gramophone record of your singing that, but that is not the same as hearing you. Would you sing it for me, Gertrude?’

  ‘Only if you sing it with me, Mary Ann.’ There were tears in Lady Ansley’s eyes and, Nell realized, in hers too.

  ‘Shall we have a picnic lunch before you leave, Nell?’ Alex had come to the Waldorf to meet her the next morning. ‘We could try the gardens by the river. I heard a bird or two singing as I walked here.’

  ‘It’s February, Alex,’ she protested.

  ‘A picnic inside a restaurant then.’

  Nell burst out laughing. ‘Done.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re laughing. I thought I’d been crossed off your dancing programme for having pushed you away not once but twice and then unfairly steamrollering you.’

  ‘I did cross you off.’

  ‘Put me back on probation then.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ll have to stay in London, Nell. There’s nothing we can do about it. Scotland Yard won’t move to Kent even if you plan any more crimes around Wychbourne.’

  ‘And Wychbourne won’t move to London,’ Nell tried to say lightly. She looked at him and then hastened to regain ground. ‘Not yet anyway.’

  ‘What if that saucepan of ours boils over? Do we devote ourselves forever to our respective tasks of clearing the world of crime and educating its cuisine?’

  ‘No,’ she said without thinking. But what if she did think? Would the decision be different?

  Alex sighed. ‘There’s a poem by Robert Browning about a loving lady at her window and her adoring knight passing by. Neither could pluck up their courage to do anything about it, so they became old and grey and had to put up statues of themselves to preserve their relationship.’

  ‘I don’t fancy that.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long, Nell.’