Murder Most Frequent: three more Inspector Constable mysteries (The Inspector Constable Murder Mysteries Book 5)

by Roger Keevil

  “Yes, that's quite right,” said Georgie. “Angie came and joined us for part of the meal, and then of course she had things to do, so she went back to her office.”

  “On her own?”

  “You mean, did I go with her? Oh no – in fact, I don't think I left the table during the whole of the evening. There was some business we had to discuss, and I know that everybody says one should never mix business with pleasure, but the food really is excellent, so if you're going to mix the two, I suppose there's nowhere better to do it than in your own restaurant.”

  “And your dinner companion will confirm all this, no doubt?” said Constable. “Sergeant, you did mention the lady's name ...”

  “Mrs. Eagle, sir.”

  “Elle? Yes, I'm sure she will,” replied Georgie. “I expect you probably know her, inspector, or at least know of her. Elle Eagle – she's our solicitor. You must have seen her pop up in court at some time or another.”

  “I don't know the name, Miss Ladyman.”

  Georgie smiled. “Of course – you would probably have run across her when she's been using the professional name. She's with quite a prominent practice in town - Eleanor Hancart, part of Griffin, Lyon, Peregrine and Hancart. But I think she uses her married name in her private life to avoid any intrusions into that from any of her, let's say, more disreputable contacts.”

  “I can quite understand that,” said Constable. “Yes, of course I'm aware of the lady, although I don't think our paths have ever crossed. A fact which, unfortunately, is going to have to be remedied because of Miss Delaroche's death.” Constable paused for a moment. “Can I come back to something we touched on earlier? One of the people we've already spoken to gave me to understand that, as you yourself said, the current economic situation is not of the best. Particularly with regard to your own restaurant. Do you have any thoughts on what they might have meant?”

  Georgie gave the inspector a look of consideration, and then seemed to make up her mind. “Well, since you already appear to know something about it, I suppose I might as well be candid. Yes, I think you're probably right. It's perfectly possible that Angie had financial worries, but that really has nothing to do with me, and in case you're wondering, that's certainly not what we were talking about last night. In fact, I've got next to no money tied up in the 'Palais de Glace' anyway – only enough to cover a nominal shareholding for the initial set-up of the company.”

  “So where exactly did you come in then, Miss Ladyman?” asked Constable.

  Georgie gestured around the gallery. “Specialist knowledge, inspector,” she said simply. “I know art. Angie was always more of a dilettante. She needed me for my expertise – you know, valuing the antiques and keeping the insurances current and so on. There are actually some quite nice pieces dotted about on the shelves, amongst all the other set-dressing, as you might say. So that's how I became a partner.” She broke off as if a thought had just struck her. “Partnership – it's a very flexible thing, wouldn't you agree, inspector? Things can change so much over time, and none of us is the same person we once were.” Her tone, which had become reflective, reverted to its previous briskness. “But of course, I'm talking about years ago. We were all very different then.”

  “Sorry, miss … all?”

  “Oh yes, all three of us.” And at Constable's continued look of puzzlement, “Angie, Elle, and I. We were all students at the same time. Sorry, I thought I'd said. Yes, we all shared a house in London.”

  “No, I wasn't aware of that, Miss Ladyman. So would Mrs. Eagle have been at the same art school as you? Surely not.”

  “Of course not, inspector. She was studying law.” Georgie smiled. “No, the only thing all three of us had in common was that we were all as poor as church mice.” She chuckled. “We'd do almost anything to earn some extra money. I remember, Angie and I used to do the most awful daubs, and then go and try to sell them to the tourists in Piccadilly on a Sunday morning.”

  “But not Mrs. Eagle, I gather.”

  A wary expression came over Georgie's face. “Not exactly, inspector. Elle had to use her talents in other directions. She was a much more … social person. And, after all, there is more than one way to finance your way through Law School. But I don't imagine that Elle would have wanted Angie to tell too many of her clients about her old, what shall we say, evening job.”

  Constable, after only a moment's reflection, realised the import of Georgie's hints. “And do you believe that there would have been any danger of Miss Delaroche revealing any ... let's call it 'privileged information' concerning Mrs. Eagle?”

  “I really couldn't say, inspector,” answered Georgie. “There was certainly nothing of the sort mentioned last night, if that's what you're getting at. Surely the best thing would be for you to ask Elle direct.”

  “We intend to do exactly that, Miss Ladyman,” said Constable, as the sound of sudden knocking came from the shop door. Beyond the glass, a middle-aged couple were seen mouthing and gesticulating. “And it seems that we are keeping you away from your customers.”

  “Heavens, yes,” said Georgie. “It's some people who came in during the week. They were looking at one of the pictures - rather an expensive one, actually - and they said they'd go away and think about it. I never expected them to come back.”

  “Then you must on no account let them escape again,” smiled Constable. “We'll leave you to it.”

  *

  “Wow!” said Dave Copper. “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

  “Meaning?”

  “What did she say – Mrs. Eagle used to be a 'social person'?” Copper pulled a face. “I know what that sounds like to me.”

  “Judge not, that ye be not judged, young David,” intoned Andy Constable. “There's more than one interpretation you could put on those words. You ought to know by now, there is a great deal of networking goes on in and around the legal profession. It's probably the best way to get on. And Miss Ladyman could easily have meant nothing more untoward than that.”

  “And I'm Queen Marie of Romania!” retorted Copper. And in response to his superior's look of astonishment, “It's a quote from a poem by Dorothy Parker, guv. Expressing incredulity. You're not the only one who can quote things, you know.” With a slightly huffy air, he unlocked the car door and took his place behind the wheel.

  Constable chuckled as he took his place beside him. “Sergeant, you are full of surprises. And much as I would enjoy a discussion on the writings of Dorothy Parker, I'm afraid we have work to do. And since by happy coincidence Mrs. Eagle is next on your list, if I remember correctly, we can go and assess the lady for ourselves. Drive on.”

  The offices of Griffin, Lyon, Peregrine and Hancart appeared deserted, with blinds down and a firmly-closed front door.

  “She did say she'd be here, guv,” said Dave Copper, pressing his finger on the old-fashioned brass bell-push alongside the classically-proportioned Georgian front door. After only a few seconds, the sound of approaching footsteps was faintly audible from inside, and the door swung open to reveal a woman dressed in rumpled jeans and a loose-fitting sweater, hair tucked behind her ears, and several bulging files in her arms. “Excuse me, we're looking for Mrs. Eagle,” explained the sergeant.

  “Well, you've found her,” was the slightly unexpected response. “And I assume you're the police officer who spoke to me earlier. You'd better come through to my office. Just close the door behind you, would you?” Without waiting for a reply, Elle turned and led the way up the stairs towards her room overlooking the rear gardens. “You'll have to excuse the informal rig, gentlemen,” she remarked over her shoulder. “The weekend is the one time I can leave off the strait-jacket the profession demands and actually dress to please myself. Even if I still have to come into work on a Saturday morning to keep abreast of the paperwork,” she added with a rueful smile. She pushed open her office door, added the files to the already teetering heap on her desk, and waved an arm towards a leather chesterfield alongside the
fireplace. “Do take a seat, Mr. … Copper, do I remember correctly?”

  “That's correct, madam. And this is Detective Inspector Constable.”

  “Mr. Constable,” nodded Elle, shaking the inspector's hand. “I thought I recognised you. I'm sure I've seen you around the courts at some time or another.”

  “I dare say you have, Mrs. Eagle. I certainly remember being told you were a very persuasive advocate for some of the individuals which my colleagues send up to meet the magistrates from time to time. Sometimes a little too persuasive for our liking,” said Constable good-humouredly. “It was just that I didn't recognise your married name when I first heard it in connection with this particular case.”

  Elle's face assumed a serious expression. “Of course.” She sat. “This awful business about Angie. I really only know the briefest outline, from what your sergeant here has told me.”

  “The briefest outline is all we have at the moment, Mrs. Eagle … or do you prefer 'Miss Hancart'?”

  “I suppose that, as we're not actually speaking in my professional capacity, inspector, it had better be the personal name. Sergeant, I imagine you're about to make a note of this conversation ...”

  Copper hastily produced his notebook from a pocket.

  “... so the full name is Eleanor Eagle, although everybody calls me Elle – age, forty-two – marital status, divorced – profession, solicitor.”

  “Which is what, I think, brings you into this matter, Mrs. Eagle,” ventured Constable. “As Miss Delaroche's solicitor.”

  “Well, yes and no, inspector,” replied Elle. “It's true, I am … was … Angie's solicitor, but we were also very long-standing friends. Rather longer than I care to remember, if I'm honest.”

  “And I believe the same applies to the other partner in the restaurant, Miss Georgina Ladyman?”

  “That's right. Lord,” Elle remarked reflectively, “to think we've all known each other over twenty years.” She shook her head. “You wonder where the time goes.”

  “And it was, I understand, this fact of being both friends and business associates which led to your presence at the 'Palais de Glace' last night.”

  “Yes. Georgie and I had some business matters to discuss – oh, nothing to do with the restaurant, in case you were wondering. But being Georgie's solicitor as well, sometimes I also have to get involved with the occasional piece of legal work for her. All very mundane stuff, I assure you – matters to do with the lease on her business premises, or affidavits regarding the provenance of some of the works of art she supplies – that type of thing. To be honest, I usually delegate that sort of work to one of our juniors, but one likes to preserve the facade of personal attention.” She turned to Copper. “And for goodness sake, sergeant, please don't put that in your notes! But yes, to come back to the point, I was at the restaurant yesterday evening to have dinner with Georgie. And I know everybody says that mixing business with pleasure is a very bad idea, but I have to say, I'm a firm believer in it. Especially where Oleg's food is concerned. But you're not here to talk about that, inspector, are you?”

  “Sadly not, Mrs. Eagle. I'm more interested to know what you can tell us about when and where you saw Miss Delaroche last night, and what if anything you can tell us which may have some bearing on why somebody might wish to kill her.”

  Elle's face took on a bewildered expression. “I cannot imagine. Personality-wise, she was always perfectly pleasant to everyone as far as I was aware, but then, in the customer service business, I should think being pleasant is very much part of the stock-in-trade. Certainly I wasn't aware of any enemies.” She stopped short and gave an odd half-smile. “And even to hear myself say it, it sounds absurd. Who on earth has enemies these days?”

  Constable shook his head sadly. “I'm afraid the world can sometimes be nowhere near as nice as we might wish it to be, Mrs. Eagle. Certainly in our particular profession, we tend to come across more instances of that than most. And surely in yours too, I would have thought. But as far as Miss Delaroche was concerned, enemy or not, somebody evidently felt sufficient animus against her to wish her dead.”

  “Of course, inspector,” acknowledged Elle. “And you haven't come here to ask philosophical questions. So what would you like to know?”

  “The mechanics of the evening – who was where and when, who had dealings with whom – in fact, nice ordinary witness-box evidence. I'm sure you can relate to that.”

  Elle paused for a moment's thought. “Very well. In fact, it was a perfectly typical 'Palais de Glace' evening. Georgie and I met outside just as they were opening, so not long after seven-thirty, I suppose. Carey came round to our table to tell us all the usual things about the menu, and Angie came by for a second, just to say hello.”

  “She didn't join you?”

  “Not at that point, no. And then the food started to arrive – we had a couple of glasses of wine with the meal – and after that, everything was just as normal.”

  “But I think Miss Delaroche did join you later, didn't she?”

  “Oh yes, but there was nothing unusual about that. Yes, she came and sat down with us and had something to eat while we were having our main courses, but she didn't stay for any great length of time after that. As ever, she had things to do, so she left us somewhere around half-past nine, I suppose.”

  “And did you notice anything about her manner while she was with you?” asked Constable.

  “Not really, no,” said Elle. “She was always a little distracted under those circumstances, because she always had half an eye on what was going on around her. One of the disadvantages of owning the business, I suppose. But I can't say I noticed anything in particular. We always try to keep off anything to do with business whenever all three of us dine together – usually the conversation ends up talking about the old student days. I do remember Angie made some remark about wanting to speak to Georgie about something or other, but that was all.”

  “And after Miss Delaroche left your table, you saw no more of her?”

  “No.”

  “And neither of you two ladies left the table during the course of the evening?”

  “No. Well, that's to say – I did pop out to the loo just before the main courses arrived, but apart from that, no. And at the end of the evening, Angie was nowhere to be seen, so Georgie and I asked Carey to say our goodbyes for us, and then we left.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes, except of course that she was parked in one direction and I was round the corner the other way, so we said goodnight on the doorstep. After which, the next thing I knew about what had happened was when I received the call from Mr. Copper.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Eagle – I think that's all perfectly clear. I take it you have all that, sergeant?” A nod from Dave Copper in response. Andy Constable gathered himself together as if to rise, but then paused. “Oh, just one thought that occurs to me, Mrs. Eagle. The question of what happens to the restaurant now. If, as I assume, Miss Delaroche was single, there would be no obvious inheritor. But of course, she did have a business partner, and I cannot imagine that, as her legal advisor, you would not have ensured that she made a will. Can you help me out with that? Without compromising your professional ethics, of course.”

  Elle smiled. “How very delicately you put things, inspector. Yes, I'm sure I probably can help you, although not straight away. But your assumptions are correct – I can certainly confirm, without breaking any client confidences, that I handled matters when the business was set up, and I was responsible for drawing up the original partnership agreement. And Angie did have a will – in fact, she made a new one only last year. The thing is that, of course, I couldn't let you have sight of those documents, even if I wished to, because everything of that nature is locked away in our strongroom, and the earliest I could get access to that would be Monday morning.”

  “How extremely disappointing, Mrs. Eagle.” The look on the inspector's face clearly indicated that he was hoping for more.

 
Elle's expression softened. “But perhaps, under the circumstances, I could refresh my memory on Monday, and then see my way to letting you have some helpful indications.”

  Constable held out his hand as he stood. “That's very kind of you. And now we'll leave you with your mountain of papers. Come along, sergeant – we also have things to do.”

  *

  “And these things would be …?” enquired Dave Copper as the two detectives resumed their seats in the car.

  “Many and varied,” replied Constable. “In fact, altogether too many to think of at once. My head's buzzing.” He reflected for a moment. “Right. First thing, get on to the mortuary and see if the doctor has any results from the post-mortem. That may help us along the way.”

  A few minutes later, Copper switched off his phone with a discouraging look. “No luck, guv. The doc's been called away – some sort of family crisis, apparently – so the p-m's not going to get done until Monday morning.”

  “How about SOCO?”

  Copper pulled a face. “Doubt it, guv. They've only had whatever they might have found for five minutes, plus have you ever tried to get any sense out of them over the weekend? That might have to be another thing for Monday.”

  “Try them anyway.”

  “... Oh, hello – it's D.S. Copper, on the Delaroche case … I didn't expect to find anyone there … well, that's good … if you have got something for us, that's great … the D.I. and I will be there straight away. Give us ten.” Copper pressed the off button. “There's a turn-up. SOCO seems to be a hive of activity, sir.”

  “And what's brought that on, I wonder.”

  “That new broom in charge, guv. Only took over this week, and it looks as if she's making them jump about a bit.”

  Constable snapped his fingers in recollection. “Of course – I remember now. It was in one of those emails from the top floor which I love to read. Doctor … oh, what's the woman's name …?”

  “Can't think how you would have forgotten it, guv,” laughed Copper. “Dr. Sicke. I thought it was a joke when I heard, but I checked. It's a real name – there's actually one in the phone book. Good job she went into the scientific side of things instead of medicine. Can you imagine turning up at the surgery and being told who your appointment was with?”