by V L McBeath
As soon as Eliza closed the front door behind them, Archie appeared in the hall.
“Here you are, what on earth have you been doing? Your father and I are on to our second sherries.”
Eliza grinned. “How unfortunate for you; I don’t suppose you’ve poured one for us. I could certainly do with one. Connie, how about you?”
Connie’s cheeks were pink as she nodded to Archie. “Yes please, that would be nice.”
“Only if you come and tell us what’s been going on. I was beginning to wonder whether Sergeant Cooper had locked you up.”
Archie ushered them into the drawing room and Eliza sat down and put a hand to her head. “You know, sometimes I wonder…”
“He was only doing his job,” Connie said. “Put yourself in his shoes, it must have looked awfully suspicious us being so close to the office immediately before Mr Hartley was shot.”
A pained look in Connie’s eyes caused Eliza to stop what she was saying. “Yes, you’re right. I should never have taken you inside. Sergeant Cooper was only reacting to what he saw.”
“Has he crossed you off his list of suspects then?” Mr Bell chuckled at his daughter.
“Yes, and no thanks to you. I notice neither of you came back to find us.”
“As if we’d dare,” Archie said. “If I’d tried to bring you home, my life wouldn’t have been worth living.”
“Well, no, I suppose you have a point. Anyway, where’s Cook up to with this dinner? My stomach’s rumbling.”
“I told her to aim for eight o’clock and so we have a little while yet.”
Eliza took a sip of her sherry. “Ah, that’s nice; it’s been a busy afternoon.”
“And we want to hear all about it,” Mr Bell said.
Eliza had opened her mouth to reply when there was a knock on the front door followed by the sound of someone walking into the hall. She sat upright in her chair. “Who on earth’s that at this time on a Saturday night?”
Before anyone could answer a tall, dark-haired young man, the image of Archie, popped his head around the door.
“It’s only me, I hope you don’t mind…”
“Henry!” Eliza jumped from her chair and planted a kiss on her son’s cheek before he had a chance to object. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in London.”
Henry’s shoulders slumped. “The house party we were going to for the weekend was cancelled and we didn’t have enough money to book into a hotel.
“And so you decided to come home a couple of days early?” Archie said.
Henry’s grin faded. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course we don’t mind. Have you eaten? I’ll tell Cook you’re here.”
“I can always eat something…”
Eliza walked from the drawing room door but stopped when she saw Connie follow her.
“What’s the matter?”
Connie gave her a half smile. “I’ll go. I don’t suppose Cook has made enough dinner for two extra visitors.”
“You go and sit down this minute; she always gives us too much but we can make it stretch if we need to.”
The clock struck eight o’clock as they moved into the dining room and Iris served out five plates of braised beef with boiled potatoes, carrots and cabbage.
“Cook sends her apologies if the meat’s dry, but it’s been in the oven for hours. She did turn the heat down to try and save it.”
“Tell her I’m sorry,” Eliza said. “That was my fault. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Why are you so late?” Henry asked as he attacked his food.
Archie grimaced at his son. “Your mother’s playing detective again.”
Henry couldn’t empty his mouth quickly enough. “Not again. What’s happened?”
Eliza laid down her knife and fork to tell Henry of the afternoon’s events.
“So, what did you find out?” Mr Bell asked once she’d finished. “Have you any idea who the murderer might be?”
“No, not at all, but there’s a serious split in the family and each side blames the other.”
“The sons don’t like the new wife, you mean?” Mr Bell asked.
“Yes, that is what I mean, but how did you know that?”
Mr Bell winked at Connie as he nodded towards Eliza. “She thinks she’s the only one in the family with any brains.”
“No, I do not, but who’ve you been talking to?”
“Mrs Hartley, of course. When you were busy in the office shortly after the body was found, you sent me to the drawing room with Mrs Hartley and Mrs Appleton.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want Sergeant Cooper getting flustered with too many people hanging around.”
“Well, perhaps it’s as well you did. You’re not the only one who can ask questions, you know.”
“I don’t remember you speaking to Mrs Hartley,” Connie said.
Mr Bell patted Connie’s hand. “You were rather upset at the time, I imagine you weren’t paying any attention. Mrs Hartley on the other hand seemed quite calm and so I took the chance to talk to her.”
“And she told you about Mr Hartley’s sons?”
“She did, not immediately, of course, but I commented that she’d taken Mr Hartley’s death rather better than I might have expected and she seemed to get upset by it. She said she was shocked more than anything but couldn’t find any tears, something she was sure her stepsons would notice. I gave her a few platitudes to try and reassure her, but she wouldn’t listen. She ended up telling me that they’d most likely try to blame her for the murder. She said she’d never held a gun in her life or at least not a handgun.”
“So she has held a gun?” Eliza asked.
“She has, but only for Mr Hartley. She told me she’d been to Scotland with him once and he’d gone on a shoot. It was about five years ago, not long after they were married, and she’d helped him pack his things for the day out.”
“Where did she go?” Archie asked. “Anywhere I’d know?”
“She didn’t say specifically, because we ended up talking about the railways.”
Eliza rolled her eyes at her father. “There are other things to talk about, you know.”
“I’ll have you know not everyone’s as disinterested in the railways as you are. She seemed quite relieved to be talking about something other than Mr Hartley’s death, to be honest. She’d travelled to Scotland up the east coast, directly from London to Edinburgh and so we had something in common.”
“Ah, she went to Edinburgh, did she? That must have taken her a while.”
“Not as long as it once did,” Mr Bell said. “She went on one of the modernised trains, and they were in Edinburgh in a little over eight hours.”
“Why was she making a journey like that?” Eliza asked.
“She mentioned something about Mr Hartley’s birthday; I think she said they went up there to celebrate.”
“It must have been a special birthday to make a trip like that,” Archie said. “I’ve not seen my family for years because they’re so far away.”
“They’re even further north of Edinburgh though,” Eliza said. “I don’t suppose the faster trains have reached that far yet. It takes another day to make the onward journey.”
Archie grimaced. “Don’t think I don’t know. We really should go back soon. My mother’s still not happy with you for keeping me down here.”
“Which is why we don’t see much of them.” Eliza placed her knife and fork onto her empty plate. Her forehead creased as she turned to Connie. “Do you remember when we were in Oak House and Mr and Mrs Hartley arrived in the office? Mr Hartley said he’d tried to send the original Mrs Hartley, Georgina, back to Scotland but she wouldn’t go. I wonder if there’s any significance in that.”
“When we spoke to her, she didn’t sound very Scottish,” Connie said. “I understood her accent perfectly.”
“Are you saying you don’t understand me?” Archie failed to keep the twinkle from his eye.
“I do most of the time.” Connie squirmed in her seat as Archie laughed.
“But Connie’s right, Georgina Hartley doesn’t sound anything like you. I wonder why they wanted to send her back to Scotland. I’d better start a list of questions for the next time we speak to them.”
“Isn’t someone from New Scotland Yard coming to the village?” Archie said.
“They are, but that’s no reason we can’t help. We proved useful last time.”
The conversation subsided as Iris came in to clear the table before she placed a large apple pie in the centre.
“Cook says it’s a good job she made extra. This was going to do you tomorrow as well, but she’s making something else now so you don’t need to save any.”
Eliza watched Henry as he licked his lips. “Is that home-made ice cream as well? How splendid. This was worth missing the party for.”
Eliza served the pudding, and they ate in silence until Iris collected five empty bowls and placed a fresh pot of tea on the table.
“Did you ask them about the will?” Henry asked as he pushed back his chair to stretch his legs. “I’d wager whoever killed Mr Hartley did it for the money.”
“You’re probably right,” Eliza said. “Sergeant Cooper’s going to write to New Scotland Yard tonight and ask them to get a copy of the will. It could make interesting reading.”
“It will if all the money goes to Maria Hartley; Mr Hartley’s sons will be furious,” Connie said.
“The question is, would the money in itself be a motive for murder?” Mr Bell said. “The sons wouldn’t want him dead if they even suspected the money would go to the new wife, but if she had access to the money anyway, why kill Mr Hartley for it?”
“He treated her like a prisoner and wouldn’t let her go out without him. Perhaps she’d had enough. By the sounds of it, James and Robert were constantly undermining her by telling their father she wanted to run off with another man.”
“And did she? Want to run away, that is.” Henry’s eyes sparkled.
“No, of course not. She said she hadn’t been out on her own for nearly fifteen months and so how could she be having a relationship with anyone else.”
A look of excitement crossed Henry’s face. “Maybe she was having an illicit affair when they were in London and he found out about it and brought her here … but the other man was so passionately in love with her, he said he’d wait as long as necessary for her to go back to him. That would give her a motive.”
Eliza shook her head. “What are they teaching you at Cambridge? You’re supposed to be training to be a doctor, not a storyteller.”
Henry’s bubble was burst. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true. Look what happened at Lowton Hall. You told me I was wrong then, but I wasn’t.” His eyes lit up again. “Maybe the man in question managed to get into the house and it was him who shot Mr Hartley. Mrs Hartley could have easily let him in and out and it would give her an alibi.”
“No. Sergeant Cooper opened the gates and stayed by them until after the shooting.”
“Maybe she let him in beforehand.” Henry grinned at his grandfather.
“I give up.” Eliza stood up to refill everyone’s teacups. “Having said that, you do have a point about the will. The contents may very well have a bearing on the motive, whatever it might be.”
“James Hartley spoke to his father the night before the murder as well as in the minutes before Mr Hartley died.” Connie said. “They may have discussed the will.”
“He said it was about Georgina’s allowance,” Eliza said.
“He did, but the will could have been part of it too. He wasn’t keen to tell us what they spoke about.”
“You’re right. We need to ask about that again. I’ll add it to my list for the inspector.”
“So, wait a minute,” Henry said, “if James Hartley was in the office when you say, he’s got to be the prime suspect.”
“You’d imagine so, but he said he was in the billiard room on the ground floor by the time of the shooting.”
“And is there anyone who can confirm that?” Mr Bell asked.
“Robert and Georgina were in there for the whole time and said James was back before the shot was fired.”
“You wouldn’t hear the sound of such a small gun from there.” Mr Bell’s brow creased.
“That’s what I thought and Georgina said the fact James hadn’t heard the shot meant he must have been back. If he’d been any closer to the office, he would have heard it.”
“It sounds very suspicious to me,” Archie said. “We know he was in the office and it is his mother providing the alibi. She’s unlikely to be impartial.”
“You’re right. He has to be a prime suspect, especially if he benefitted from the will.”
“Is there anyone without an alibi?” Mr Bell asked.
“Well, Maria Hartley for one. We saw her go into the office about five minutes before the shooting but she left and said she’d gone to the drawing room.”
“We walked past the drawing room and I didn’t see her,” Connie said.
“We did, but it’s a big room and if she’d been by the window, we’d have had to go inside to see her. If you remember, we were a bit preoccupied at the time.”
“Maybe she went back after we left. We did hide in the linen cupboard when we heard a noise. It could have been her.”
Henry burst out laughing. “You didn’t squeeze into a linen cupboard. I can see it now, the two of you fighting with the bed sheets.”
“That’s enough.” Eliza glared at him. “It wasn’t funny … and besides it was a small room, not a cupboard. We weren’t supposed to be in the house and were just being careful. We didn’t see any movement after we heard the noise and so it could have been someone walking across the front of the house.”
“She was the only one who said she was in the area.” Connie’s face was brighter than it had been since they’d arrived back at the surgery. “You need to get the police to question her again.”
Eliza glanced at her friend but decided now wasn’t the time to tease her. “Yes, I will.” She wrote on her sheet of paper. “The only other person who doesn’t have an alibi is Maria Hartley’s daughter Jane. She said she was alone in her bedroom for the whole afternoon until Maria went upstairs to tell her the news.”
“Could a woman handle a gun like that and kill someone with a single shot?” Archie asked.
Eliza shrugged. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility and if the mother could, then I’m sure the daughter would have been able to. Either one of them may have practised in the wood.”
“That’s as may be,” Mr Bell said, “but as I’m well aware, even if you’re innocent, if you haven’t got an alibi it can land you in a lot of trouble and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Eliza sighed. “They’ll both be on the list of suspects although I’m not sure it was either of them. The murder took place on the first floor but we suspect the murderer left the scene through the window. It would be difficult for a woman to climb down.”
“Maria Hartley needn’t have left through the window. She was the one who found the body and could have stayed in the office until we arrived,” Archie said.
“And Jane could have run back up the stairs,” Connie added.
“You’re right.” Eliza sighed. “We need to see if there are any footprints around the area; that would perhaps rule a man in rather than rule the women out.”
“The path around the front door is gravel and so we won’t find much there,” Connie said.
“There may be something on the top of the porch; that has to be the way they got down. I’ll ask the police to check.”
“Did everyone else have decent alibis then?” Henry asked.
“They did. Robert was with Georgina in the billiard room for the whole time.”
“Or so they say,” Mr Bell said. “I presume you only have their word for it. It might be helpful to see if any staff saw them.”
>
Eliza wrote on her notepaper. “That’s a good idea. We need to have a word with them.”
“Maybe it was one of the staff that did it. You know, a disgruntled footman or something,” Henry said.
“We’re not at Lowton Hall now. They have several maids and a cook, but that’s it. For the simple reason they’re all women, I would suggest we can discount them, at least for now. They might have seen something though.”
“We know the wives of Robert and James were in the marquee,” Connie said to Mr Bell as Eliza was writing. “The Harrington-Smyths saw them and there were staff too, so we can dismiss them.”
“We can,” Eliza agreed. “We can also discount Maria Hartley’s son Benjamin. Sergeant Cooper saw him leave the grounds shortly after two o’clock and he didn’t return until after the shooting.”
“And so the prime suspects are James Hartley, because he was in the office before the shooting, and Maria Hartley, who was alone in the drawing room, but who could have gone back to the office once we’d left.” A smile flashed across Connie’s face.
“Don’t forget the daughter,” Henry said.
“No, we won’t, but the thing is, James and Robert are adamant that Maria’s the likely murderer. On the other hand, she’s of the opinion that one of the sons killed their father to get their hands on his money.” Eliza studied the faces that were turned to face her. “The question is, who do we believe?”
Chapter Ten
The smell of fried sausages drifting up the stairs brought a smile to Eliza’s face as she lay in bed and came to her senses. It was Sunday morning, and the sun was streaming through the light cotton curtains and illuminating the flowers on the wallpaper. What a wonderful time of the year. Her smile faltered when she remembered that Mr Hartley wouldn’t be waking up this morning. The poor man. Whatever he might have done, he didn’t deserve to be shot.
She was about to throw off the bedcovers when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a moment later Archie popped his head around the door.
