Heirs of the Body: A Daisy Dalrymple Mystery (Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries)

by Dunn, Carola

  He grinned at her. “Right away, madam.”

  Daisy contemplated the telephone. She had to send a wire to Tommy, worded discreetly, because no matter what the Post Office said, operators in country districts could not be relied on not to wag their tongues. The news of Raymond’s death would be common knowledge soon enough without such assistance.

  In the end, she kept it simple: RAYMOND DIED TODAY CAUSE UNKNOWN. She wasn’t getting her—or rather, Edgar’s—shillingsworth, but there really wasn’t anything more to be said without telling the whole complicated story. After all, it didn’t matter much if the villagers knew he was dead. The devil was in the details.

  Lowecroft came in while she was dictating the telegram. Though he must have heard the message, he preserved the myth that a butler hears what is spoken by his betters only when it is directed to his ears.

  As Daisy hung up, he said, “You wished to speak to me, madam?”

  “We’re expecting another guest, Lowecroft.” She could have had Ernest tell him, but he would have been deeply offended. Hierarchy must be observed. “I understand Mr. Samuel Dalrymple is on his way. I’m afraid I don’t know when he’ll get here.”

  “No matter, madam. Everything will be set in readiness to receive Mr. Samuel. If I may mention it, madam, I believe I saw Lady John’s car arriving. No doubt Mrs. Samuel has returned from her visit.”

  “Good! I expect she’ll want to go upstairs for a rest. Please tell her I’d like a word with her and I’ll come up to her room if she prefers.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  “Don’t let anyone tell her about Mr. Samuel before I do.”

  “Certainly not, madam. There is no reason,” he said austerely, “for anyone other than Mrs. Warden to know whose arrival we are preparing for.” He paused for a perfectly judged moment to see whether she had anything else to say, then bowed and made his stately way out.

  He crossed paths with Ernest bringing a tray. On it were home-farm cheese, home-farm butter, home-baked bread, a couple of ripe plums, and a glass of local cider, made from a mixture of apple and pear juice.

  “Perfect,” said Daisy.

  She had her mouth full when Lowecroft returned to say that Mrs. Samuel would be happy to see her upstairs in ten minutes. “Also, madam, the Vauxhall has just returned with, I presume, her ladyship and the rest of the party.”

  “Blast!” She managed not to spray crumbs at the butler, but one went down the wrong way. Spluttering, she wondered why everything had to happen at once.

  “May I suggest, madam, that I should draw her ladyship aside and apprise her privately of Mr. Samuel’s expected appearance?”

  Daisy brought her cough under control. “Yes, please, Lowecroft. And ask her if I can see her in—” How long would it take to break the news to Martha? Would she weep and have to be soothed? Daisy could hardly tell her and immediately rush off. “In half an hour.”

  What would irritate Alec more, further delay in getting the information or a servant with a note looking for him in the stables with the body in the car? He’d better wait.

  She finished her late lunch and went up to Martha’s room.

  Martha was reclining on the chaise longue in the negligée they had picked out together at Selfridge’s, sipping a cup of mint tea. She put down the cup on the small table at her side. “It tastes a bit funny. Not nasty, still sort of minty, but not very nice.”

  “Perhaps it’s a different kind of mint. Laurette was saying the French make tisanes from other kinds of mint, and all sorts of herbs. Or it might just be that your taste buds have changed. I found I liked things I’d always disliked and vice versa.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve noticed that. What did you want to see me about?”

  “Good news, Martha.”

  “Sammy?” Her face lit up and she clasped her hands. “He’s safe?”

  “Not merely safe, darling, he’s on his way to Fairacres.”

  “He’s in England already?”

  “He saw Mr. Pearson yesterday in London and told him he was taking the train to Worcester. I don’t know why Worcester. Malvern’s closer to Fairacres.”

  “I expect he wanted to see Worcester. He’s always been interested in travelling and seeing foreign places. That’s why he enjoys being a sailor. His friends think he’s a bit odd because when they’re in port he doesn’t head for the nearest tavern, he goes strolling about the town. Which is good, because he brings most of his pay home!”

  Daisy smiled. “Very good. So he probably wandered about Worcester this morning and will turn up any minute.”

  “He may decide to walk, to see the countryside. It’s such a lovely day. Violet and I had lunch in the garden. Lady Dalrymple—your mother—was out for lunch.”

  They exchanged a glance of understanding. The dowager’s icy politeness would be enough to put anyone off accepting an invitation to lunch—which would probably not have been extended in the first place.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to take your nap. You’ll want to be rested when he comes. I’m very happy for you that he escaped from Florida intact and that he’s nearly here.”

  “Oh Daisy, I’m so relieved! All I need now is my girls.”

  “One way or another, I expect it won’t be long before you’re reunited. Sleep well.”

  With a few minutes to spare, she went to change from her cathedral-visiting outfit into a summer frock, wash her face, tidy her hair, and powder her nose, armouring herself against Geraldine’s righteous wrath. All this she accomplished automatically, while ruminating on Martha’s reaction. She had been surprised and relieved to hear that Sam was on his way. Daisy didn’t believe she could have convincingly acted the part. She was a simple, straightforward person.

  She returned to Edgar’s study to retrieve Tommy’s letter. Waiting for Geraldine to join her or to summon her was as nerve-wracking as waiting to confess some misdeed to her old headmistress.

  When the phone rang, she was glad to be distracted—until she picked up the receiver and heard the operator announce, “I have a person-to-person trunk call from Mr. Crane in London. Is Mr. Fletcher available?”

  The Super! Alec would undoubtedly be happier not knowing about the call, but his superior couldn’t be avoided forever. “I can go and look for him. It may take a little while.”

  “Is that Mrs. Fletcher?” Superintendent Crane’s voice boomed along the line, unimpeded by the usual crackles and hisses.

  “Speaking,” Daisy said reluctantly.

  “Caller, do you wish to be connected?”

  “Yes! She’ll do, for the moment.”

  Thanks very much! Daisy said silently, leaning against the desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crane?”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he snapped. “The Worcestershire chief constable wired some cock and bull story about a series of accidents, which hardly seems enough to call for our services.”

  “It probably isn’t. But now, one of the accidents has proved fatal, and Alec can hardly ignore it. He went to examine the body. Given how long he’s been gone, I shouldn’t be surprised if the local police surgeon is with him by now.”

  “Who is the deceased?”

  “A distant c-cousin of mine.” Daisy was annoyed to hear her voice wobble. She hadn’t even liked Raymond!

  “My condolences, Mrs. Fletcher. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your family were personally involved. Have all the accidents—”

  “Yes. It’s a family gathering.” She started to explain the search for an heir.

  “Your time is up, caller. Do you want another three minutes?”

  “Yes, yes, as long as it takes. Go on, Mrs. Fletcher.”

  Daisy tried to be brief. “So you see,” she finished, “they may be accidents or they may be … something else.”

  “Hmmmm, yes. It does sound a bit much for the county force to handle. And since Fletcher is on the spot … Yes, if he’s willing to do a bit of investigating on his own time, I’ll talk to the AC about acceding to the C
C’s request.”

  “Could you send DS Tring and DS Piper?” Daisy knew Alec had wanted Ernie Piper, newly elevated to sergeant, and Tom Tring to lend a hand, even before Raymond’s death.

  “Mrs. Fletcher, you’re not even sure whether a crime has been committed. We’re shorthanded, as usual. I can’t authorise seconding busy officers to sort out your family’s machinations. I’ll tell you what, though. If and when Fletcher has proof that a serious crime has been committed, I’ll see that he gets those two men.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Crane.”

  “I know they’re both accustomed to coping with your interfere … ah … presence in an investigation.”

  “They’re both friends of mine,” Daisy said with dignity.

  “Hmm. And don’t go putting yourself in danger.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t. It’s sweet of you to care.”

  The superintendent made gargling noises. She could practically hear him blush. He mumbled something, then continued in a more characteristic sarcastic tone, “Thank you for casting a little light on what seems to be a thoroughly obscure situation. Perhaps you’d have the goodness to ask your husband to get in touch if he can find a spare moment.”

  Daisy promised she would and they rang off.

  What next? Oh yes, Geraldine and grovelling apologies.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Picking up Edgar’s letter from Tommy, Daisy glanced at the clock. Forty minutes since she had told Lowecroft half an hour. She hoped Geraldine wasn’t waiting for her somewhere else, adding tardiness to her causes for complaint.

  But Geraldine came in, looking a bit frayed at the edges. She sank wearily into a chair by the desk. “I vow, if Vincent is Edgar’s heir and Laurette wants to move into Fairacres, I’m moving out! What was it you wanted to tell me, Daisy? Thank you, by the way, for coming home with Raymond.”

  “I imagine Laurette told you about his fall.”

  “Never stopped talking about it! How is he? I’ve been too busy since I got home to—Daisy! What is it?”

  “Raymond. He … he died on the way home.”

  “Oh, my dear!” Geraldine sprang up and swooped on Daisy to enfold her in her arms. It was a somewhat bony embrace, but for the first time Daisy could imagine her mothering Edgar’s pupils, not just disciplining them. “You shouldn’t have had to cope with that. I’m glad Alec came back to see what was going on. I presume he’s … dealing with things now?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid he’s having to deal with it as a police matter.”

  “As I anticipated. Sir Nigel said he was going to talk to the Assistant Commissioner at Scotland Yard about what’s been going on here. I would have expected the local police to manage, with Alec’s help. After all, what we described to him was just a string of odd accidents. Now that a death is involved, I’m glad he took that step.”

  “I’ve just taken a call from Superintendent Crane, at the Yard. Alec’s officially on the case. I must go and tell him, but first … Geraldine, I’m most frightfully sorry.” She handed over the opened envelope. “I read Tommy’s letter to Edgar. Apparently it went to the bailiff by mistake so it was delayed, and it’s marked urgent, and neither you nor Edgar was here, and considering everything that’s happened, I decided … Shockingly bad form, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “In the circumstances…” Geraldine took out the letter and quickly read it. “Ah, the missing Samuel. In the circumstances, I consider your action entirely justified. After all, Mr. Pearson might have written to tell us Frank Crowley’s been unmasked as a kidnapper and forger—”

  “What! You don’t like Frank, I gather.”

  “I like him very well. He’s an amiable, obliging sort.”

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “Not as far as I could throw him. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he were a forger. However, I’m certain Derek and Belinda would know by now, and have told us, if Ben had been kidnapped, so we can acquit Frank of that. In any case, that was not what Mr. Pearson wrote about.”

  “I can’t help feeling he would have sent a cable!”

  “Very likely. You’ve broken the news of Samuel’s coming to Martha?”

  “Yes indeed. She’s tickled pink. And now, if you’re not going to haul me over the coals for reading the letter, I must go and tell Alec.”

  “Tell him if there’s anything I, or Edgar, or the household can do to help, it shall be done.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding.”

  “Believe me, Daisy, the thought of going through all this without you and Alec to support us is … inconceivable!”

  “All the same, it won’t hurt to have Tommy here too. If I were you, I’d wire him to come at once.” She pushed the telephone towards Geraldine.

  “You’re right. I think I will.”

  Daisy went to find Alec. Ernest, never the most wooden of footmen, told her with obvious curiosity that Smethwick had brought a message from Mr. Fletcher: He was going into Morton Green to send some cables from the post office.

  “Mr. Fletcher got a lift with a gentleman that came about the same time as the ambulance. They was round at the stables. Smethwick wouldn’t say what was going on. Said the Chief Inspector—Mr. Fletcher, I should say—swore him to silence. But I cou’n’t help noticing, madam, Mr. Raymond didn’t come home with the rest. He’s not been took ill, I hope?”

  “Sorry, Ernest. I’ve been sworn to silence as well. Did Mr. Fletcher intend to walk back from the village? I think I’ll go to meet him.”

  It was a beautiful afternoon, sunny and warm but not humid and oppressive. Daisy started out across the park on the path that led to the Dower House, then took the right-hand branch towards the village. The beige Jersey cows lay chewing the cud under the scattered oaks and chestnuts or paced slowly across the slope, bright green after the rain, cropping the grass short as they went.

  The distant crack of a rook rifle, familiar from childhood, reminded Daisy that all was not as peaceful as it seemed. In the orchards, birds were gorging on ripe fruit. She hoped the shooter had scared them off without killing any.

  Before she reached the top of the hill, Alec came over the crest. She waved but, lost in thought, he didn’t respond.

  “Alec!”

  He looked up and his pace quickened. The only spectators being bovine, they met with a kiss before walking down towards the house, arm in arm.

  “Who did you send cables to, darling? Let me rephrase that: To whom did you send cables?”

  “Haven’t you left something off the second version?”

  “To whom did you send cables, darling?”

  “That’s better. First I rang up Sir Nigel to make sure the county force would pay for them, because I wired South Africa and Jamaica and Trinidad, as well as Scarborough. Pearson investigated their ancestry. I want more information about their present-day families, their backgrounds, their way of life.”

  “Raymond’s as well?”

  “If his death was no accident, it was not necessarily associated with the inheritance.”

  “Diamonds!”

  Alec reached into his inside breast pocket and produced a small wash-leather pouch, closed with a tightly tied drawstring. “Diamonds.”

  “Let me see.”

  He opened the bag and showed her a handful of grey and yellowish pebbles. Some looked like lumps of glass or quartz, some just like bits of gravel. “Not very spectacular.” He retied the string and returned them to his pocket.

  “Have you any idea what they’re worth? Where did you find them?”

  “Not a clue. He had a secret pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket—all his jackets, I expect. Dealers in gemstones often choose to carry their merchandise on their persons when travelling, rather than trust an unknown safe. I assume Edgar has a safe I can lock these in?”

  “Father did. I doubt he’s got rid of it. Do you think Raymond could have been the target of a thief? It was rather a public place for robbery.”
/>   “Lots of people and general confusion, perfect place for an expert pickpocket. One to push him at the tram—the police surgeon, Pardoe, found a suspicious bruise on his back.”

  “He said ‘Someone pushed…’ The bobby assumed he meant someone pushed him out of the way of the tram.”

  “One to push him towards the tram; one to save him and abstract the loot at the same time, then scarper with it.”

  “Only he was foiled by the secret pocket.”

  “At any rate, it’s not a possibility I can dismiss, though the chances of identifying the putative culprits are dim. The local coppers are working on it, but not exactly enthusiastically.”

  “Was his wallet pinched?”

  “No. Either the whole theory is bosh, or they were after bigger game and not interested in the few pounds it contained.”

  “Someone who knew he had diamonds on him. Someone at Fairacres?”

  “They might have found out about the diamonds. They’d have a hard time summoning up an expert pickpocket, though, in the few days they’ve been here.”

  “Unless one of them is already a pickpocket. Frank? We don’t know anything about how he makes a living—at least, I don’t.”

  “One to push and one to pick. In collusion with…?”

  “Martha’s Sammy. I hate to say it but … They both come from the West Indies. Sammy travels a lot. He could well know that one of the family emigrated to Trinidad and go looking for descendants. Oh, wait, Frank isn’t a descendant.”

  Alec laughed. “No. Much more likely to be someone Raymond had business dealings with in London, or on the Continent, or someone from South Africa.”

  “Hence the cable? To the Cape Town police?”

  “To them, and to the business. He had business cards in the wallet, so I thought I’d better inform them of his death.”

  “I sent a wire to Tommy, telling him. I expect he’ll notify Raymond’s immediate family. Alec, I’ve just thought: Could he have been stabbed with something very thin, like the Empress Elizabeth? She walked on and then collapsed and died, just like Raymond. If I’m remembering it right, the wound hardly bled at all.”

  “Dr. Pardoe would probably have seen it, presumably in the centre of the bruise. He’d certainly find out when he does the autopsy.”