Murder on a Mystery Tour

by Marian Babson

  There was a concerted rush for the lobby to collect Deduction Sheets. Once everyone was milling around out there, it did not take them long to discover the fresh clue.

  ‘Hey—look! Where did that come from?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A ring. A gold wedding ring on a thin gold chain. And see, the chain’s broken. It must have fallen off someone.’

  ‘Who? And who found it? Who put it up there?’

  ‘Where did they find it?’

  ‘Take it down. Let’s have a closer look.’ Bertha Stout reached up and detached the chain and ring from the drawing-pin.

  ‘Careful—fingerprints,’ someone warned.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Colonel Heather snorted. ‘Little thing like that wouldn’t take any prints. And how could you bring them out?’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about it.’ They looked at him with renewed suspicion.

  ‘You don’t happen to recognize the ring, do you, Colonel … Heather?’ Dix asked meaningly.

  ‘Never saw it before in my life.’

  ‘There are initials inside!’ Bertha had been examining the ring, now she held it up and squinted into it. ‘Can’t quite make them out—’

  ‘Let me see!’ Haila Bond snatched at the ring. Bertha tried to hold on, but was left with the thin chain dangling from her fingers, while Haila held the ring, twisting it so that light fell on the initials.

  ‘It looks like … AC and CS …’ she reported. ‘And there’s a date … 1914.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘CS—Cedric Strangeways!’ Bertha had it. ‘But who’s AC?”

  ‘Sir Cedric was married? Then what was he doing getting a marriage licence with Lettie?’

  ‘Did Lettie find out? Did she kill him in a fury?’

  ‘Maybe AC found out about Lettie.’

  ‘I know Sir Cedric was absent-minded—but could he really forget he had a wife?’

  ‘Maybe he thought he could get away with bigamy.’

  ‘How do we know AC is still alive?’

  ‘Maybe she isn’t any longer. Maybe Grace Holloway wasn’t her real name and—’

  They were well away. Midge relaxed again. More so, when she heard Amaryllis speak softly to Lauren, as instructed:

  ‘There’s about an inch or so missing from that chain. Why don’t we go and look for it? We’ll solve the case ourselves and surprise everyone.’

  ‘Yes, let’s.’ Enthusiastically, Lauren followed Amaryllis up the staircase, not realizing that she was to be kept safely out of the way for the next hour.

  ‘All right.’ Midge nodded to Lettie, who stood poised near the kitchen door. ‘Wheel Cook on.’

  Lettie nodded back and disappeared.

  ‘A piece of this chain is missing.’ Bertha came to the same conclusion as Amaryllis, but unaided. ‘About an inch and a half, including part of the clasp.’ She looked around suspiciously. ‘Maybe we’ll find it clutched in the hand of the next corpse.’

  ‘Oh, Bertha—that’s awful!’ Alice Dain shuddered.

  ‘Good thinking,’ Asey said. ‘Is anybody missing?’

  ‘Practically everybody.’ Bertha found gloomy satisfaction in this. ‘Don’t you see? They’ve disappeared because it’s time for us to decide whodunit.’

  ‘But, if you think there’s another body to be found—’

  ‘It might not be another murder—it might be a suicide. The easy way out. Remember, this is 1935—and the death penalty is still in force. They swing for murder!’

  ‘Oh, Bertha—that’s even more awful! I don’t—’ Alice broke off as the rattle of china caught her attention. She turned. ‘Why—who’s that?’

  They all turned as Cook moved past them, head down, wheeling the trolley into the lounge.

  ‘Yeah—’ Asey started after her. ‘Where did she come from? We haven’t seen her before. Hey—you! You—wait a minute—’ He grabbed Cook’s arm, bringing her to a reluctant halt. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I—? I’m Cook, sir. Lettie is terribly busy, so I’ve brought in the coffee things for her.’

  ‘What do you mean—Cook?’ Bertha advanced on her, quivering with suspicion. ‘Do you mean you are the cook, or do you mean your name is Cook?’

  ‘B—both.’ Cook stood her ground with some difficulty, she had not been prepared to meet such intensity. ‘Cook by name and Cook by nature, I always say.’

  ‘And I suppose you’ve always worked at the Manor?’

  ‘Oh yes, ma’am. Ever since I was a child and started out as the ’tweenie.’

  ‘C for Cook,’ Bertha said reflectively. ‘I think we’re getting there. And what’s your first name?’

  ‘Everyone always calls me Cook.’

  I’ve no doubt they do, but you must have a first name. What is it?’

  ‘It’s—’ Cook looked to Midge, who nodded encouragingly. ‘It’s Agatha.’

  ‘Agatha!’

  ‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Cook flared. ‘It’s a perfectly good name.’

  ‘An excellent name,’ Bertha said triumphantly. ‘And it makes you AC—who married Sir Cedric Strangeways in 1914!’

  ‘How did you—?’ Cook clutched at her neck, her fingers searching for something they failed to find.

  ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ Haila held the gold ring up before her.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Cook grabbed for it, but Haila was faster. ‘Give me that—it’s mine!’

  ‘Just as I thought!’ Bertha said. ‘The Son of the House and the—what were you by then? The housemaid? Parlour maid? Apprentice cook? Anyway, it was a secret wartime marriage—and there was only one reason for that in those days. You were carrying his child, weren’t you?’

  ‘No—’ Cook said. ‘No—’

  ‘Yes,’ Bertha insisted. ‘You were a young girl, he had got you in trouble—and he was an honourable man. He was also on his way to the Front. He knew he might never come back. He gave you the protection of his name. He legitimized his child.’

  ‘No,’ Cook cried. ‘No—it wasn’t his!’ She got the apron over her head at the first throw and stumbled back to the kitchen before anyone could stop her.

  ‘I’m sorry—’ Midge moved forward to intercept as they tried to chase after Cook. ‘That’s enough for now. Cook is too upset. She never thought her guilty secret would be revealed. You must give her time to recover herself—or we won’t have any dinner tonight.’

  Grumbling, they let themselves be shepherded into the lounge. They were annotating their papers frantically, deep in a new wave of speculation.

  ‘Whatever else, we sure can’t accuse Sir Cedric of being a snob. First he married his cook, then he tried to marry his parlourmaid.’

  ‘Maybe Cook killed him—because she was jealous.’

  ‘Were they divorced? We never got a chance to ask.’

  ‘Maybe Lettie was Cook’s daughter and Cook killed him to stop him from committing incest.’

  ‘Naw—she said the kid wasn’t his.’

  ‘Did he know it, I wonder?’

  ‘If he didn’t, all the more reason. He wouldn’t try to marry Lettie if he thought she was his daughter.’

  ‘Anyway, my anonymous letter as good as said Lettie was Miss Holloway’s illegitimate daughter. So there’d be no problem in that case.’

  ‘There’s an awful lot of illegitimacy around here,’ Alice complained.

  ‘Yeah,’ Stan agreed. ‘Who was fathering all these little bastards?’

  ‘I’ll ask you to let me have your Deduction Sheets in five minutes,’ Midge warned. ‘Reggie is waiting.’

  ‘Listen, everyone.’ Roberta clapped her hands for attention. ‘We mustn’t forget that the time has also come for you to choose between the Honourable Petronella and Edward Lupin. Which one is to take their place at the head of Van Dine Industries?’

  ‘Oh no—not another problem! How are we going to choose?’

  ‘A secret ballot is the only way,�
�� Roberta said. ‘Bramwell will give out and then collect the voting slips. If you’ll write down the name of your choice, I will then count the votes and announce your decision.’

  ‘One damn thing after another,’ Stan grumbled. ‘How are we supposed to vote when one of them might be the murderer?’

  ‘You’re supposed to have figured that out first,’ Bertha said. ‘Haven’t you? I have.’

  ‘So have I,’ Haila said.

  ‘Oh, it’s so difficult,’ Alice complained.

  ‘You have all the clues,’ Roberta said.

  ‘I’d hate to bet on that,’ Asey hooted.

  ‘You have all the clues,’ Roberta repeated firmly. ‘Now, sit down and vote.’

  20

  Midge collected the Deduction Sheets and brought them out to Reggie, then Bramwell gave out the ballot slips. While they were absorbed in their voting, Lettie quietly returned and began serving coffee.

  Unobtrusively, the other actors filed into the lounge and seated themselves among the guests. Evelina T. Carterslee nodded congratulations to Midge; all was going well.

  Reggie, having donned a business suit and carrying a clipboard crammed with Deduction Sheets and other papers, made his entrance, looking sombre and official. He seated himself beside Roberta at the table that had been set up at one end of the lounge.

  Bramwell delivered the ballot slips to Roberta. Midge brought coffee to both of them and retreated to stand against the wall where she could best observe the scene. The expectant hush as Roberta and Reggie studied their respective piles of paper was broken by excited whispers and the clatter of cups from the audience.

  At last, Reggie pushed his clipboard aside and nodded to Roberta. She looked down at the two piles of slips in front of her; one was noticeably higher than the other.

  ‘The decision about the fate of Van Dine Industries was very close.’ Tactfully, she ignored the evidence of the slips before her.

  ‘However, the vote seems to have gone in favour of one—on a conditional basis. The consensus of opinion is that the new head of Van Dine Industries should be the Honourable Petronella Van Dine—but only if she renounces Algernon Moriarty.’

  ‘Oh, I say,’ Algie complained. ‘That’s a bit thick. You’re not going to do it, are you, Pet?’

  Petronella rose to her feet. There was a long, thoughtful silence.

  ‘I—I feel I have a duty to—to my heritage,’ she faltered. ‘I’m sorry, Algie—’

  ‘It’s my heritage, too!’ Ned leaped to his feet, quivering with fury. ‘I’ll fight this decision to the highest court in the land.’

  ‘Boy, what a sore loser!’ someone commented. ‘He’d have been a lousy boss.’

  ‘Oh, well—’ Algie rose and began strolling casually towards the door. ‘In that case, I might as well toddle along. There’s nothing here for me—’

  ‘Don’t let him get away!’ Reggie snapped.

  Norman Dain and Stanley Marric caught Algie as he began to run for the exit. They brought him, struggling wildly, to stand before Reggie.

  ‘Algernon Moriarty,’ Reggie said solemnly, ‘I hereby arrest you for the murders of Sir Cedric Strangeways, Lady Hermione Marsh and Miss Grace Holloway.’

  ‘It’s a lie!’ Algie shouted. ‘Why should I kill them?’

  ‘In order to inherit Chortlesby Manor,’ Reggie said.

  ‘Aha—I guessed it!’ Dix said.

  ‘No! No! It’s a lie! I didn’t do it! Tell them—’ He appealed to the motionless form hovering in the doorway. ‘Tell them I didn’t do it, Mummy.’

  ‘I was afraid of this—’ Cook delivered her last line. ‘There was always bad blood in that boy!’ She flipped the apron over her head and disappeared again.

  ‘Bad blood,’ Reggie said solemnly. ‘But Strangeways blood. There was only one reason Sir Cedric would have sacrificed himself by marrying Cook—to give his father’s child the family name! He never expected to return from the Front and so he thought it didn’t matter.’

  ‘But Algie’s name is Moriarty,’ Alice said in bewilderment.

  ‘Quite so.’ Reggie spoke rapidly, gradually speeding up even more, to race through the explanation at breakneck pace. ‘Once Sir Cedric—or Cedric, as he was then—re turned safely, although wounded, from the Front, the succession was no longer in doubt. He—and he alone—would inherit Chortlesby Manor. A different future had to be arranged for his half-brother. It was—is—traditional to buy younger sons a commission in the Army, and this was done as soon as Algie, graduating from a minor Public School, was old enough. For reasons best known to himself, Algie changed his name at that time. He then proceeded to bring disgrace upon his new name.’

  ‘Curse you, Dain!’ Algie struggled anew with his captors. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘His family lost track of him under his new name—perhaps they never knew it. No one had seen him since he was sent away to school as a child, he had changed a great deal as he grew up. When he encountered Lady Hermione—with the Honourable Petronella under her wing—in London, he recognized her, although she did not recognize him, and saw his chance. A double chance. Petronella was his key to Chortlesby Manor. And, if he could persuade her to marry him as well, he would have an heiress bride whose fortune could maintain him in the Manor to which he wished to become accustomed.’

  Undeterred by groans, Reggie continued his summation.

  ‘By this time, Cook, his mother, had learned of Sir Cedric’s plan to marry Lettie. If the marriage had taken place and there had subsequently been children of that marriage, Algie’s chances of succeeding would have been dashed. His only hope was to kill his half-brother before the marriage could take place. It had only been delayed in order to allow Lady Hermione time to reconcile herself to the match. But Algie also knew that, if he put forward his claim after Sir Cedric’s death, his half-sister would know immediately that he had been responsible. So he had to kill her, too.’

  ‘And Miss Holloway knew too much,’ several people chorused. She had established that beautifully.

  ‘That is correct. Miss Holloway was the sort of person everyone trusts and confides in. She met Sir Cedric when she worked in the office of the solicitor who handled his eventual divorce. They became friends and he invited her to take up residence at the Manor when she had no other place to go when she retired.’

  ‘Beautiful!’ Dix said. ‘Beautiful!’

  ‘Take him away!’ Reggie ordered Algie’s captors. They marched Algie out of the lounge.

  ‘So there we are,’ Roberta said. ‘The solution to Murder At The Manor.’ She led the applause.

  One by one, the actors stood up and took their bows. Algie came back into the lounge, Norman and Stanley behind him. They seemed to feel that they were entitled to bows, too.

  ‘Great!’ Bertha gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘I was close. I spotted Cook—but I was certain that the child had been a girl. I was even wondering about the Babies Swapped At Birth gimmick. For a while, I suspected that Petronella—’

  The happy hubbub of post-mortems filled the lounge. Cedric, Hermione and Grace filed into the room to fresh applause. The audience converged on the actors to congratulate them upon the finer points of their performances.

  Lettie slipped away and began collecting the coffee cups and piling them on the trolley. The show might be over, but the ordinary chores of life must go on. ‘That went quite well,’ she said to Midge.

  ‘Very well.’ Midge took possession of the trolley and began wheeling it towards the door.

  ‘Oh-oh!’ Lettie said. ‘How did she get away?’

  Lauren blocked the doorway, surveying the lounge. ‘What happened?’ she demanded. ‘What have I missed?’

  ‘Nothing really, dear—’ Forgetting her newly-resurrected state, Miss Holloway came forward to help. ‘I can explain everything to you—’

  ‘Someone better,’ Lauren said belligerently. ‘We’re sick and tired of missing everything. You keep doing all the important bits when we’re out of the way. It
isn’t fair!’

  ‘What are you doing down here by yourself?’ Midge asked uneasily. ‘Where’s Amaryllis?’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t want us to come down,’ Lauren answered carelessly. ‘So we locked her in the bathroom.’

  ‘I suppose I ought to go up and let Mother out,’ Bramwell said, not very enthusiastically.

  ‘I wouldn’t hurry, if I were you,’ Cedric advised. ‘She’s going to be in a foul mood.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bramwell shuddered. I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Have another drink first,’ Dix suggested. They had already had one. ‘Fortify yourself.’

  ‘It is kind of peaceful without her,’ Bertha said.

  ‘Look,’ Stan said. ‘She isn’t going to know how long it took for that loopy dame to tell us where she was. We can act as though we just found out. Another half-hour or so isn’t going to make that much difference.’

  ‘She isn’t shouting or banging on the door, or anything—’ Haila returned from a foray into the upper reaches. ‘Or, if she is, we can’t hear her.’

  Amaryllis had brought it on herself, Midge reflected. They had already managed to ignore her plight for over an hour. No one wanted to face the flare of temper when she was finally released. And it was lovely and peaceful without her.

  It was Midge’s last coherent thought for quite a while. They were now well into overtime on this tour. According to the original schedule, the coach should have collected the tour right after lunch and taken them to the airport. While it might be to Roberta’s advantage that this had been prevented from happening, it was making a lot more work for everyone at the Manor—especially as they were without outside help.

  Eric was in the kitchen chopping onions for Cook, a task he considered more congenial than trying to make conversation with the guests. Lettie, Grace and Hermione had disappeared to make up the rooms while the guests were occupied in the bar with their pre-dinner drinks.