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Dying for a Garden Party

Page 12

by V L McBeath


  “And why bring your mother with you at all?” Connie asked. “She wasn’t even invited.”

  Robert’s eyes were wide as he looked at each of them.

  “I have a theory,” Eliza said. “I think you brought your mother here for the sole purpose of providing you with an alibi when James went to see your father. The thing is, nobody can confirm the two of you were in the billiard room, not at the time of the shooting. We only have your word for it. Yours and your mother’s and really, she doesn’t count as a reliable witness. You may not be lying when you say James left the office a couple of minutes before the trigger was pulled, but that’s not to say you didn’t take his place. As far as I’m aware, you could have slipped into that room unnoticed.”

  “You’ve gone very quiet, Mr Hartley.” Inspector Adams clasped his hands together on the table.

  “I-I don’t know what to say. This is all lies. You can’t prove I was in the office.”

  “But can you prove you weren’t?” Eliza’s gaze was steady.

  Robert’s face was grey as he stared back at them. “I didn’t kill him, I wouldn’t. I didn’t know anything about the anniversary and just wanted him to change his will and give Mother her allowance back. There was nothing more to it than that.”

  Once he’d dismissed Robert, Inspector Adams sat back down at the table. “Do we believe a word he said?”

  Eliza sighed. “It’s a difficult one. It’s obvious that James is the dominant one, but would he instruct his brother to murder their father?”

  “Sometimes it’s the quiet ones who are the worst,” the inspector said. “They give nothing away but then you find out about a moment of madness where everything changes. I’ve been involved with too many cases where the most likely suspects turn out to be innocent.”

  Eliza helped herself to a glass of water. “We need to get the mother in. She’s clearly the central figure in all of this. Shall we see what she has to say for herself?”

  Inspector Adams left the room and returned with Georgina Hartley.

  “Please take a seat, Mrs Hartley. Since you were last interviewed we’ve learned rather more information about the relationship between you and your ex-husband. It doesn’t seem quite as idyllic as you portrayed.”

  “I didn’t say it was.” Georgina squirmed in her seat.

  Inspector Adams looked down at his notes. “It says here you hadn’t argued with him for years.”

  “We hadn’t.”

  “Could that have had anything to do with the fact you hadn’t seen him since the day of your divorce?”

  “It may have… ”

  “So, tell me about the divorce, bearing in mind I’ve already spoken to your sons, who’ve been very forthcoming.”

  Georgina hesitated and took a handkerchief from her handbag, which she placed on her knee. “There’s not much to tell. Edward came home from work one day and told me he wanted a divorce. I was shocked, obviously, and refused but he said he’d make it worth my while, if I admitted to being the guilty party.”

  “And you accepted it without question?”

  Georgina shook her head. “Hardly, but refusal wasn’t an option with Edward. If he wanted something he always got his own way. I had no choice.”

  “And so he promised you an allowance?” Eliza said. “How much was it worth?”

  “He said he’d pay me twelve pounds a month for the rest of my life if I accepted the terms of the divorce.”

  Inspector Adams sucked through his teeth. “That’s a lot of money, but from what we’ve heard, he stopped it shortly afterwards.”

  “It was so unfair. James and Robert came up to Scotland as soon as they heard the news. They were furious with me, thinking it was my fault. The names they called me were shocking and I couldn’t stand it. It’s one thing to lie to the whole of London society but quite another to lie to my sons, knowing how badly they thought of me. I had to tell them the truth. Unfortunately, in Edward’s eyes, that breached the terms of the settlement and he stopped the payments.”

  “Telling your sons the truth was enough for him to stop all payment?” Eliza struggled to control her voice. “So what happened? You had the divorce approved and then he put you on a train to Scotland?”

  “It wasn’t quite like that.” Georgina dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “Once the paperwork was signed agreeing the financial settlement, we went to Scotland together. He said the divorce laws were simpler and cheaper up there and he wanted to get it over and done with. At the time, I had a brother living up there and Edward had arranged to pay him the allowance in return for him taking me in.” Georgina smiled. “He was thoughtful like that, he didn’t just abandon me.”

  “Thoughtful! I would hardly call that considerate behaviour … and you didn’t even get the money, your brother did.”

  Georgina’s expression dulled. “The money was the least of my worries, at least to start with. As it was, I had a roof over my head and was away from the gossip of London. I couldn’t have stayed down here, the shame would have been too much.”

  “But then the money stopped? When was this?”

  Georgina nodded. “We were divorced in early August and I got the first payment immediately. I was waiting for the September payment but the allowance was stopped without a word. I wrote to Edward several times asking him to reinstate it, but he only wrote back once and refused to answer any other letters.”

  “Had Edward remarried by the time the money was stopped?”

  Georgina shrugged. “I don’t know but I don’t think so.”

  “So you just stayed with your brother?”

  “I did. He wouldn’t have thrown me out, but things changed after that. I was treated worse than a paying guest and always had to be mindful of how much I ate or what I bought.”

  “And so eventually you’d had enough? Is that why you came back?”

  Georgina shook her head, and the room fell silent while she composed herself. “My brother died two months ago and left the house to his dead wife’s brother. He naturally didn’t want me around and so I had no choice but to ask James for help.”

  Eliza felt nothing but pity for the woman sitting opposite her. “How awful for you.”

  “It still doesn’t explain why you came to this house for the weekend,” Inspector Adams said. “I’m sure you could have stayed in London while the family were here. We’ve been told that you weren’t made welcome when you arrived and even had to take your evening meal in your room on Friday. Why did you come?”

  “I just thought that if I could talk to Edward, he would take pity on me.” Georgina’s voice squeaked as she spoke.

  “From what I’ve heard, I must conclude that Mr Hartley turned down your request for help. Is that what triggered your plan to be rid of him while you believed your sons would still inherit his fortune?”

  “No.” Georgina sobbed into her handkerchief.

  “You may not have pulled the trigger, Mrs Hartley, but there’s a strong case that you and your sons conspired to murder your husband before the money from his estate passed to the new Mrs Hartley.”

  “We didn’t!”

  Inspector Adams stood up. “Please go back to the drawing room. I’ll call you back if I need you.”

  Inspector Adams walked Georgina to the door before he turned and scanned the room. “Is there any chance of a cup of tea around here?”

  “I’m sure there is.” Eliza looked at Connie.

  “All right, I’ll go. I’ll ask Sergeant Cooper if he’d like one too.”

  “Do you really believe the sons and their mother are responsible for the murder?” Eliza asked once Connie had left them.

  “Don’t you? I think we can safely assume none of them are aware that the second marriage took place in August and so as far as they’re concerned the money is theirs. Maria Hartley won’t get a penny of it.”

  “I must admit, they have a strong motive and clear opportunity, but didn’t you feel a shred of sympathy for Georgina Hartley when she tol
d us how Mr Hartley had treated her?”

  “But it just adds to the motive. Ex-husband treats her badly and she wants her revenge. Don’t tell me you fell for her sob story.”

  “It’s not as simple as that. Something about this whole thing doesn’t add up. For example, it’s troubling me that Mr Hartley divorced Georgina in Scotland. Why would he do that?”

  Inspector Adams shrugged. “She said it was easier and maybe he wanted to avoid the scandal. Or perhaps it was easier for her brother to collect her from Edinburgh.”

  “You could be right.” Eliza wasn’t convinced. “I need to speak to Archie about this, he knows the laws up there better than I do, but isn’t there an issue with divorced couples marrying again in England? Would such a marriage even be legal?”

  Inspector Adams rubbed his chin. “It might not be, but does it matter as far as the murderer’s concerned? If everyone thought they were married, even if they technically weren’t, getting the money before the five-year cut-off would still be our motive.”

  “That’s true. I wonder if Maria Hartley knows she may not be legally married. If you remember, I didn’t find a copy of the marriage certificate. What if she lied about the whole thing?”

  “If she was going to do that, why would she pick the date of her husband’s death as the date they were married. Making it a week earlier would have made the interpretation of the will less contentious. As it is, it could be argued that the cut-off favours both sides.”

  Eliza grimaced. “We need to speak to her again, don’t we? There are still too many unanswered questions.”

  “We do, and to Jane and Benjamin. If the marriage took place five years ago, they would have been young. I wonder what they know.”

  “Here we are.” Connie arrived back in the dining room, closely followed by a maid carrying a large tray filled with a teapot, cup and saucers and a selection of cakes. She put it on one end of a long sideboard that ran adjacent to the door before retreating back onto the landing.

  “Shall I ask Sergeant Cooper to join us?” Connie asked.

  “No, not yet.” The inspector helped himself to a slice of Victoria sponge cake. “We need to make sure Mrs Hartley has no chance to sneak back to her bedroom and clear out any photographs or letters. Why don’t you ladies have your tea and then go and search her room for me? I’m sure that would be preferable all around. Mrs Hartley can show you where it is, but don’t talk to her while you’re there. Once you’ve finished, bring her back here. Sergeant Cooper can have his tea while you’re gone.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eliza took a final sip of her tea and stood up. “Are you ready?” she asked Connie.

  “I am. Let’s go and see what she’s hiding.”

  Eliza gave Connie a disapproving look as they headed to the door.

  “We’re here to relieve you, Sergeant,” Eliza said as they reached the top of the stairs. “I presume Mrs Hartley is still in the library.”

  “Unless she’s climbed out of the window, she is.” Sergeant Cooper chuckled, but Eliza’s eyes darted to the door. “Of course, that’s perfectly possible. Why didn’t we think of that?”

  Without waiting to knock, Eliza burst into the library to find a startled Maria Hartley standing by the window.

  “Oh, Mrs Hartley, good, you are here. We’d like you to escort us to your bedroom. Inspector Adams has asked us to search it. As part of the investigation, you understand.”

  “He was serious?”

  A faint smile crossed Eliza’s lips. “I’m afraid so but we’ll try to be as tidy and discreet as possible.”

  With a deep sigh, Maria sauntered to the door and turned right to walk past the office.

  “Aren’t you going upstairs?” Eliza asked.

  “No, my room isn’t up there. Edward and I had adjoining suites down here. He couldn’t get up the stairs to the second floor.”

  Eliza stopped as Maria pushed open the oak door leading to the bedrooms. Of course, I should have known.

  “Come on,” Connie said. “If you’re not quick, she’ll get there before us. What’s the matter with you?”

  Eliza took a few tentative steps past the office and turned the corner into a corridor she hadn’t wanted to enter ever again. There it was at the end of the passage; the room that had changed her life. The room that had taken her mother … and baby brother. The sun was shining through the window now and shimmering off the pale pink embossed wallpaper. She had to do this. She was a grown woman, and it was only a room. Connie had gone on ahead and was waiting with Maria by the door.

  “You’ve gone white,” Maria said once Eliza reached the door.

  “I’ll be fine, it’s just rather warm in here.” She fanned her face with her hand. “All right, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  Her eyes flicked around the room. The decor had changed, and the furniture was of a lighter wood, but there was no mistaking it was the same room. She remembered the view from the window overlooking the wood and the old oak tree that sat beyond a clearing. As a child she hadn’t imagined it could get any bigger, but now she could clearly see the branches standing out amongst the other trees.

  “I don’t suppose Benjamin watches the birds from here, does he?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Maria’s brow creased.

  Eliza shook her head. “I’m sorry, I was thinking out loud. When we lived here, I would sit on that window seat and watch the birds. I’d spend hours in here when Mother was in bed.”

  Maria smiled. “No, he’s old enough to take himself into the wood, thank goodness. It’s nice to be able to come in here and get a bit of peace.”

  Eliza’s attention was distracted by the sound of Connie opening and closing drawers. She turned to see her working through the chest of drawers.

  “Nothing in there.” Connie paused with her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to help?”

  “Yes, of course.” Giving Maria an apologetic smile, Eliza walked to the dressing table. It was situated between the two windows at the end of the room and held the picture of a serious young man looking straight into the lens of the camera.

  “Who’s this?” Eliza asked.

  “That’s my late husband Elijah. Please don’t take it, it’s the only picture I have of him.”

  “Didn’t Mr Hartley mind you keeping it on display?”

  “He rarely came in here. He had no need and his room is further down the corridor.”

  “There’s a date here, 1894. Is that when the picture was taken?”

  “It was.” The hard lines on Maria’s face disappeared. “We’d gone down to Brighton for a few days and thought it would be fun to have our photographs taken. I kept his, and he kept mine … until he traded it in for another pint of ale. Apparently it was worth a shilling to someone who’d never met me.” Shaking her head, she walked away. “I know how to pick them, don’t I?”

  Eliza gave the drawers in the dressing table a cursory glance but when she found nothing of interest, she turned to see Connie closing the wardrobe doors.

  “Is that it?”

  “I would say so.” Connie studied the room, checking again the tops of the units. “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of impropriety. Oh, wait a moment, what about under the bed?”

  Before Eliza could stop her, Connie was on her hands and knees retrieving a metal box about twelve inches square.

  “The lid’s locked. Do you have the key?”

  Maria put a hand to her chest, her eyes imploring Eliza’s. “Please don’t. It’s private.”

  “You can’t have private, this is a murder investigation.” Connie got back to her feet again. “Didn’t you hear Inspector Adams?”

  With another apologetic smile, Eliza turned back to the dressing table. “There was a key in here; it may fit.” She picked it out and handed it to Connie, who slipped it into the lock and opened the lid.

  “Now, what have we got here?”

  “They’re letters from my husband when he was trying to w
oo me. Please, they’re personal.”

  “There’s no date on them, how do we know they weren’t written last month?” Connie said.

  “Is there no date in the postmark?” Eliza stepped forward to examine several of the envelopes before she turned to study Maria. “The corners have been torn off.”

  Maria plonked herself down on the edge of the bed. “Benjamin liked to collect them when he was little; I didn’t think there was any harm in it.”

  “It’s all very convenient, isn’t it?” Connie read the letter she held in her hand. “Listen to this. I’ll wait for you, my darling. I’ll wait for as long as necessary…”

  “It’s not what you think.” Maria made a grab for the letter, but Connie pulled it away before she could reach it. “I met my first husband when I was a young girl, only eighteen. He was twenty-one and my father wouldn’t give us permission to marry. Elijah wouldn’t be deterred as you can see. He waited until I reached twenty-one so we could marry without permission.”

  Connie flicked to the end of the letter. “How do we know this is the name of your late husband and not your lover?”

  “You have to believe me … or ask Benjamin or Jane. They know.”

  “Of course they do.” Eliza regained her composure and took the letter from Connie. “We need to take these to Inspector Adams but I think we should only read them if there’s a problem.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing.” Eliza fixed her gaze on Connie until her shoulders drooped.

  “If you say so.”

  “Right, good. Shall we go back to the dining room?” She picked up the box before addressing Maria. “Will you walk with us? The inspector would like to speak to you again.”

  When they arrived back, Eliza poured herself another cup of tea. It was rather stewed, but she didn’t care. In the absence of a glass of sherry, it would do.

  “Did you find anything?” Inspector Adams asked.

  “A box of letters.” Connie ignored Eliza’s frosty glare.

 

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