by Dunn, Carola
“The thirtieth.”
“That’s a slow passage, isn’t it?”
“For an old tub like the Julianna it’s a pretty good time!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Alec said. Pending enquiries, Daisy thought. “Which port did you arrive at?”
“Plymouth. Our cargo was mostly rum, so it had to be unloaded into a bonded warehouse. My contract included helping to supervise the unloading. That took all day Saturday. I spent the night in a rooming house in Plymouth—”
“Address?”
Sam shrugged. “I have no idea. One of my mates took me there. I slept late, then went to catch a train to London without looking at the house number or street name.”
“I suppose you didn’t keep the ticket stub.”
“Good lord no. I travel light, don’t stuff my pockets with odds and ends of paper. What’s this all about? Why do you want to know when I got here? Look here, if you don’t believe me, you can ask the harbour authorities. They’re supposed to keep the crew manifest.”
“I don’t disbelieve you. But I may—let me stress may—have to check. Would the Julietta still be at Plymouth?”
“Julianna. No, she was due to sail Monday for Clydeside, to deliver the rest of the cargo. Sugar. It’s not easy to sell rum to the Scots!”
“I imagine not. Is Julianna equipped with wireless?”
“The owner stuck in a second-hand set, but most of the time it doesn’t work.”
“All right, let’s move on. You took the train to Paddington and went straight to see the lawyer?”
“It was Sunday. Maybe I’m a fool, but not fool enough to look for a lawyer on a Sunday! I found lodgings, then I walked up to Hampstead—Martha’s letters had given me your address. Nice house you have! You weren’t there and the maid couldn’t be coaxed into telling me where you’d gone or when you’d be back. So I went to see the sights. When I got back to the lodging house, I found out that the next day was a bank holiday. Still no hope of seeing Mr. Pearson!”
“So you did some more sightseeing.”
“I did. I can’t wait to take the girls to the zoo and Madame Tussaud’s. There’s plenty to see in London.”
“‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life,’” Alec said.
Sam was quick to pick up his tone. “A quotation? Who said that?”
“Dr. Samuel Johnson, your namesake.”
“Never heard of him. I haven’t got much book learning, excepting the navigation manual.”
“‘A man’s a man for a’ that,’” Daisy murmured.
Alec gave her a look. Sam gave her a questioning glance but turned back to Alec.
“Monday was a bank holiday, yet you went to see Mr. Pearson? At home?”
Sam grinned. “I got impatient. I found his address in a telephone directory and I thought I might as well give it a try. At least he might give me an appointment for the next day, so I wouldn’t turn up at his office and find him gone.”
“That’s a point. I’m surprised he saw you, though. Gentlemen of the law always prefer to go about things in the proper way.”
“He gave me ten minutes, maybe quarter of an hour. I showed him what I’d brought. He got about as excited as I reckon gentlemen of the law ever get, then his servant came in to say a taxi had come for him and Mrs. Pearson. He wanted me to leave the … papers there for him to look at later. I wasn’t about to do that, with no knowing what’d become of them. I swore to the person who lent it—them—to me that I’d return them unharmed. They’re irreplaceable.”
“Originals. Not official records then.”
“That’s as may be. I was good and ready to get out of the city, begging Dr. Samuel Johnson’s pardon, and I didn’t want to let another day pass without seeing my gal!”
“Yet you didn’t exactly hurry here from Worcester.”
“I’ve always liked to get to know foreign places. And after being adrift in strange country in Florida, I wanted to be familiar with the territory hereabouts. You never know when it’ll come in handy.”
“I don’t mind,” Martha said earnestly. “I’m just happy that he’s safe.”
Safety was questionable, Daisy thought, or at least relative. If Sam was as honest and open as she would like to believe, he might be in danger. But she recognised the truth of Alec’s accusation that she always, when mixed up in a case, took one of the suspects “under her wing,” and found it hard to believe ill of him or her. Her faith was sometimes misplaced. For Martha’s sake she wanted Sam to be innocent, so she viewed him through rose-coloured spectacles.
“What time did your train get in?” Alec asked.
“It was due at Worcester Shrub Hill at about twenty past eleven, but it arrived a few minutes late.”
Sam had been in Worcester at the time of Raymond’s fall. However, it would have been an astonishing coincidence for him to have happened to spot Raymond—assuming he could recognise him—at a moment when he was vulnerable.
Coincidences do happen, Daisy reminded herself. She suspected Sam had the quick wits to take advantage of an unexpected opportunity.
“You’ll understand that I’m going to do some checking,” Alec told him.
“I might understand if you’ll tell me what this is all about!”
“Fair’s fair.” Alec’s account of the string of odd incidents was a model of conciseness.
By the end, Sam was frowning. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I see why you have to look into every possibility. I—No, I think I’d better keep my own counsel for the moment.”
“And your eyes open.”
“And—believe me—my eyes open! Who—” The telephone bell interrupted him.
Alec automatically reached for the receiver, hesitated with a glance at Sam, then picked it up. “Fletcher here.” He listened for a moment, grimaced, said, “Yes, Ernest, put her through.” Holding out the receiver and sliding the stand across the desk towards Daisy, he informed her, “Your mama.”
“Blast!” She gingerly put the receiver to her ear, as Alec shepherded the others out. “Mother?”
“Daisy! What’s this I hear?”
“I don’t know, Mother, until you tell me.”
“I gather the ne’er-do-well husband of Violet’s unfortunate protégée has turned up like a bad penny.”
Unfortunate in the sense of undesirable, not unlucky, Daisy felt sure. And she’d considered Martha her own protégée, not Violet’s. But where the dowager was concerned, the less said the better. “Samuel Dalrymple has arrived, yes.”
“The innkeeper.”
“The sailor, Mother.”
“Even worse. One may hope that now Violet will see the folly of becoming intimate with such impossible people.”
Time to change the subject. “How is Violet?”
“If you ever came to see us, you’d know.”
“I’ve been several times, Mother! Even though I’m rather busy helping Geraldine entertain her guests.”
“What does she expect with such an ill-assorted, ill-bred party? I assume your husband hasn’t yet worked out who is Edgar’s heir.”
“It’s not his responsibility.”
“What’s the use of having a policeman in the family if he can’t separate the pretenders from the real?”
“It’s Tommy Pearson’s job. The lawyer.”
“If Edgar had had the sense to stay with the lawyers who served the family for centuries, all this nonsense would have been finished with years ago.”
Daisy was unable to deny this assertion. “I daresay. How is Violet?”
“As well as can be expected. She was always delicate, not a hoyden like you. It’s a relief not to have that noisy boy of hers about the house. I suppose I must thank Geraldine for taking him off our hands. I have been considering…” She paused.
“Oh?” Daisy said cautiously.
“Of all the unsuitable candidates, the jeweller is clearly the least unsuitable, the most accustomed to dealing with people of our class. T
his Pearson person must hurry up and confirm that he—”
“Mother, I’m sorry to have to tell you…” Daisy hesitated. Would Alec be furious? But the news was undoubtedly spreading by now and she couldn’t let her mother continue in her misconception. “Cousin Raymond died today.”
“Well, really! How inconvenient! Very inconsiderate of him to put himself in contention if he was on the point of expiring.”
“Your time is about to expire, caller,” said the operator, apropos. “Do you want another three minutes?”
“Yes, of course,” snapped the dowager. “I am not yet in want of twopence to speak to my daughter. Where were we?”
“I’m sure Raymond didn’t expect to die. He would hardly have undertaken the long sea voyage from South Africa had he known.”
“People take cruises in the hope of a cure, Daisy. Surely even you are aware of that. Or possibly he wanted to consult a Harley Street medical expert in his condition. I daresay colonial doctors are all very well in their way, but they can hardly compare with the best specialists in the world. I take it Edgar will cancel his birthday party. The man was a relative, after all. Of sorts. And that reminds me, I’m told Alec’s little girl fell off a donkey at the fair.”
“Belinda’s just a bit bruised, Mother, but thank you for enquiring.”
“I wasn’t enquiring. I know she wasn’t badly hurt because I’ve seen her with that mongrel of hers and Derek and the black child, who I’m quite certain cannot possibly be a legitimate Dalrymple, playing at Red Indians in the park.”
“Red Indians!”
“Or some similar game. They appeared to be sneaking after the black child’s—”
“Ben. Benjamin. His guardian?”
“So I believe. He was introduced as Frank Crowley, if I remember correctly, at that appalling Sunday lunch party of Geraldine’s. I could have told them where the fellow was heading. The Wedge and Beetle, playing darts in the public bar.”
“Good heavens, Mother, did you see him there?”
An outraged silence was followed by the click of the dowager hanging up.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I shouldn’t have done it,” said Daisy, “but honestly … I plead provocation. I’ll get what-for next time I talk to her.”
“She always gives you what-for, love, with or without cause, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
They were in their bedroom preparing for dinner. Powdering her nose, Daisy said meditatively, “Darts. Could you kill someone with a dart, darling?”
“I doubt it. Theoretically it’s possible, I imagine, but barring an unknown and instantly deadly poison of Amazonian origin, unlikely. The point is too short and narrow to do much damage.”
“Trinidad is near the coast of South America.”
“If someone dies of an unknown and instantly deadly Amazonian poison, I shall arrest Frank at once.”
Daisy laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother considers frequenting the public bar to be an indictable offence for a guest at Fairacres. And she considers me criminally negligent for letting Bel run loose with the boys.”
“Red Indians sounds quite harmless.”
“Bows and arrows,” she said darkly. “They learnt to use them at the fair. Gervaise used to mess about with archery. His bow and arrows are bound to be in the attics or hidden away in a cupboard somewhere. If the kids ferreted them out, the murderer could get hold of them.”
“If there is a murderer. What did you think of Sam?”
“I like him. You don’t need to tell me that doesn’t mean anything. But I do find it difficult to see how he could be responsible for Raymond’s fall when he’d only just arrived in Worcester, even if he’d actually been in England for ages.”
“It would be a whopping coincidence,” Alec conceded. “The diamonds are still in the running for a motive in that affair.”
“If he was in England: Vincent’s fall, possible; Belinda’s fall, possible; Ben’s, no, but Martha could have done that. It would explain why the butterfly net was placed near the bottom of the stairs. She might conceivably obey Sam’s instructions up to a point. I can’t see her willing to harm anyone seriously.”
He shook his head. “I hoped talking to Sam would clarify matters, but I’m still completely in the dark.”
“If you ask me, he’s the heir. He wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble to get hold of his precious ‘papers’ if they proved he wasn’t. And it would take a lot to make Tommy excited.”
“We have only his word for both. I’m just hoping tomorrow will bring a flood of information about the lot of them. Are you ready to go down?”
Daisy contemplated her shingled curls and ran the hairbrush through them one last time. “Ready.”
Dinner was not a convivial occasion. Even Frank was subdued. With little conversation to distract them from eating, the meal was soon over. The sun had set, but it was still light outside. The ladies followed Geraldine to the drawing room, where the men joined them just a few minutes later. In the circumstances, Daisy wasn’t surprised that they chose not to sit on at the table, passing the port in masculine cameraderie.
Vincent and Laurette at once excused themselves and went to walk in the garden.
“Dammit,” Alec muttered. “I wanted to talk to Vincent.”
“Why don’t you follow them?” Daisy suggested.
“I don’t want to talk to Laurette.”
“If we both went for a stroll and happened to meet them, I could distract her.”
“That would leave Geraldine’s drawing room rather thin of company.”
“She’s far more interested in your finding out what’s going on than in your fascinating conversation.”
“Thanks for the compliment!”
“Geraldine, it’s such a glorious evening, you won’t mind if we go out, as well?” Daisy hoped her stress on the last two words would convey something of Alec’s purpose.
Before Geraldine had time to reply, Edgar, standing at the window looking out, cried, “Good lord, a Ghost Swift!”
Martha’s eyes and mouth opened wide in dismay. “A ghost?”
“A moth, my dear, I expect,” Geraldine soothed her. “Too late in the day for butterflies. Edgar’s rather keen on certain insects, Samuel.”
Edgar plunged out in pursuit of his prey, wielding a large handkerchief in lieu of his broken net.
“Do go and enjoy the weather while it’s nice, Daisy,” said Geraldine. “Who knows, it may pour with rain again tomorrow.”
Daisy and Alec went out. Edgar had already galloped off into the dusk and there was no sign of Vincent and Laurette.
“How did they disappear so fast?” Alec demanded crossly.
“They must have gone into the laburnum alley, I should think. Though it’s an odd place to choose when it’s getting dark. Do you want to follow them?”
“No, I want to be visible from the terrace in case the reports arrive from Worcester. Let’s walk down to the chestnut and watch for them to reappear.”
Reaching the chestnut, they stopped and turned. The sky above the house still held the colours of sunset, rose deepening to burnt orange, with a few high, fluffy, pale-pink clouds. The air was soft and still. Bats flitted after midges and moths, their swift, erratic flight reminiscent of a complicated country dance. Daisy hoped Edgar’s Ghost Swift hadn’t been snapped up.
“Look at the evening star, darling,” she said, tucking her arm through Alec’s. “I’ve never seen it brighter.”
But his attention was elsewhere, scanning the gardens with a glance at the house now and then.
Ernest came out on the terrace, a cardboard document case under his arm. Alec waved and started towards him, and he came to meet them.
“For you, sir,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, although no one was near to overhear. “A police officer on a motor bicycle brought it. Me and Mr. Lowecroft thought as it shouldn’t be left unattended on his lordship’s desk.”
“Thank you, Ernest, quite righ
t. Is the officer waiting?”
“Yes, sir, in case you want to send any messages. Cook’s giving him a cuppa in the kitchen.”
“Tell him, would you, that I’ll just take a quick look and write a note for his superintendent.”
“Ernest, do you know what the children are up to?”
“They went down to the river, madam, to see if the water’s gone down enough for boating.”
“Oh no!” Daisy swung round to chase after the errant children. “It’s nearly dark. Alec, they—”
“Madam, they came in half an hour ago. I beg your pardon for alarming you. Mr. Lowecroft arranged for the garden boy to watch after ’em, me being busy serving dinner. They went up to the day nursery. Last seen playing card games under Mrs. Gilpin’s eye.”
“Whew! Don’t give me another shock like that, Ernest!”
“I’m sure I’m very sorry, madam. But you needn’t worry, we’ve got it covered. And I didn’t tell nobody but Mr. Lowecroft what you said to me. Not but what everyone but the kitchen maid can guess there’s fishy business going on.”
Daisy started after Alec towards the house. “What does everyone make of it?”
“Can’t make head nor tail of it, madam.” The footman kept pace half a step to her rear. “It just don’t seem to hang together somehow. They’re a rum lot, if you don’t mind me saying so. You can’t choose your relatives, like Mrs. Warden says.”
“That’ll do, Ernest. One of them is going to become Viscount Dalrymple someday, unless another aspirant turns up unexpectedly.”
“Yes, madam. I beg pardon if I spoke too free.”
“I won’t hold it against you. You’ve been very helpful and I’m much easier in my mind about the children.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“And please tell the staff that if anyone has any reasonable ideas to make sense of things, they should report to Mr. Fletcher.”
They had reached the terrace steps, and Alec was about to enter the sitting room. Daisy saw that Geraldine was alone, knitting, while from the wireless came the strains of what Daisy guessed was a Haydn symphony. She shouldn’t have assumed the others would stay to keep their hostess company. Alec could quite well have gone out by himself to fail to find Vincent and Laurette. She girded up her loins for another apology.
