by Roger Keevil
“When is it to be?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“I hope you’ll allow me to attend.” An inclination of the head was Lady Olivia’s only response. “But now, and I apologise for any insensitivity in the timing, I would be glad if I could ask a few questions.”
“We all have our duty to do, inspector,” said Lady Olivia. “Shall we sit down?” She moved to a sofa in front of the fireplace as the police officers took a seat opposite. “What would you like to know?”
Constable drew a breath. “When we spoke before, Lady Olivia, you mentioned that the last time you saw your husband was in the drawing room before dinner. He left the room to attend to a visitor, and you told us that you left the room yourself some minutes later. Now, one of the members of your staff happened to see you, and noticed that you seemed to be upset. I wondered if that might be relevant.”
All expression left Lady Olivia’s face. “How very observant people can be, Mr. Constable.” She sounded determined to give nothing away.
The inspector persisted. “I know this may be sensitive territory, your ladyship, but in a case of this kind, I’m afraid that personal sensitivities count for very little. I have to ask you, is what we’ve been told true?”
Lady Olivia sighed. “Oh, very well, inspector. Yes, I was upset over something Richard had said.”
“While you were together in the drawing room?”
“No. Earlier.”
“That would seem to be a somewhat delayed reaction. I was wondering if it might have had to do with the arrival of Sir Richard’s visitor. I mean, the unexpected one. The lady.”
Lady Olivia drew herself up with dignity. “It’s obvious, inspector, that there’s no point in shilly-shallying. You’ve evidently been told a great deal more about the situation concerning my husband than I hoped would ever emerge. A woman has her pride, Mr. Constable. And I’m not a fool. I’m perfectly well aware that Richard has never been a saint. Not even when we were first married, although I did my best to overlook the fact in the hope that the matter would remedy itself. But he has always had … women friends.”
“And you had reason to believe that your husband’s visitor was one of these? Were you aware of who it was?”
“It was fairly obvious, inspector. Pelham was clearly being painfully discreet when he came to tell Richard about the caller, and Richard had that expression on his face – it’s one a wife learns to interpret quite quickly, inspector. But as James was in the room, I chose to say nothing. And then Julia Baverstock arrived a few minutes later, so James poured her a drink.”
“Can I ask what?” interrupted Constable.
“Oh. A sherry, I think. Yes, it was, because I remember he fumbled with the decanter as he was putting it back and spilt some on his trousers, so he needed to go and change them, leaving me to sit making excuses to Julia as to why Richard wasn’t there.”
“And after that?”
“It got steadily more awkward, inspector. Julia was rather tight-lipped, and in the end I felt I just couldn’t sit there making conversation any longer – not with that Wadsworth woman in the house - so I told Julia that I was feeling a little faint and wanted to go upstairs to wash my face before dinner. Feeble, I know, but it was the best I could think of. And that’s all I can tell you, inspector. If I was seen going upstairs, surely you should be satisfied that that is where I was at the time of the shot.” Lady Olivia gave the inspector a challenging look. “Which I assume is the purpose of this questioning. You evidently seem to have some idea that I was linked with my husband’s death in some way.”
“I’m sure I’ve said nothing to give you that impression, your ladyship,” returned Constable mildly. “And we need to look into all aspects of the case if we are to find out who killed your husband.”
“Even if it means washing the family’s private dirty linen in public, inspector?” challenged Lady Olivia. “Well, I suppose you have your duty to do.”
“As you yourself pointed out, Lady Olivia.”
A snort. “Well, if you have nothing further to ask me, I have matters to attend to.” Lady Olivia rose and pushed a bell at the side of the fireplace. “Pelham will show you out.” Without a backward glance, she resumed her seat at her desk as the door to the hall opened.
“Mr. Pelham.” Constable forestalled the butler as he led the way across the hall towards the front door. “I wonder if Mr. Booker-Gresham is around. We’d like a word.”
Pelham turned. “I’m afraid not, sir. Master James has gone up to London this morning.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, sir. He mentioned having to attend a meeting at his firm’s offices in the City. It was apparently a matter of some urgency. I understand he intends to return later today.”
“Ah. Well, perhaps we’ll be able to catch him then. If you see him, would you tell him that we’d like to speak to him?”
“I shall pass on the message, sir,” replied Pelham gravely. “Good morning.” He held the door open, and the detectives found themselves on the front steps of Effingham Hall almost before they were aware of it.
*
“I can’t remember being put in my place twice in such a short time, guv,” remarked Dave Copper with a wry grin. “And Lady Olivia seemed such a nice woman when I first met her.”
“Ah,” said Andy Constable, “but that was on a case when you were working in the family’s interests. Perhaps she sees it differently this time.”
There seemed to be something nagging at Copper’s mind. “Guv …”
“What?”
“I’ve got that itch.”
“I’m hoping you’re going to tell me it’s that one at the back of your brain.”
“It is, sir. You know you’re always going on about inconsistencies … and I’m sure I could look it up in my notes if you wanted me to …”
“Don’t drivel, man. Out with it.”
“It’s something Lady Olivia said about when she went upstairs, sir. Well, two things, really. When we came here first, she told you she was upstairs at the time of the gunshot because she’d gone up because she wanted to get a handkerchief. But Mrs. Carruthers has just told us that when she saw Lady Olivia going upstairs, she had a handkerchief in her hand. And now her ladyship says she went up to wash her face. They can’t all be true … can they?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” mused Constable slowly. “Perhaps she used the handkerchief so then needed to get a fresh one, and the ‘washing the face’ business was just an excuse to get out of the room, which is what she told us. But you’re right. It doesn’t absolutely hang together.”
“And Mrs. Carruthers did say that the lady looked upset.”
“You’re right. And well spotted,” said Constable approvingly. “We’ll let those thoughts bubble under quietly. But there are plenty of other people to talk to, so there’s no sense in rushing our fences and jumping to conclusions.”
“Can I make a suggestion, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why don’t we do what we did the first time we came here, and retrace our steps round the circuit of people? I could drive, and then you can sit and think profound thoughts, like you do.”
“You just want another chance to drive a decent car instead of that haven of superannuated coffee cups and crisp packets that you drive,” smiled Constable. “But yes, it’s not at all a bad idea. As long as you remember where we’re going. Don’t expect me to fiddle with that phone of yours for directions.”
“I happen to have extremely good route recall, guv,” replied Copper with dignity. “So, if you’re happy, we’ll be on our way to visit Mrs. Baverstock.”
“Good. She’s another lady who wasn’t entirely candid about the events of the day of the murder when we went to see her first. In the light of what Mr. Diggory said, evasive, to say the least. So let’s find what holes we can pick in her story.”
“Inspector!” There was a note of surprise in Julia Baverstock’s voice as she opened the do
or to the two police officers. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“We happened to be in the vicinity,” lied Constable smoothly, “ and I thought we might take the opportunity to resolve one or two queries that have arisen since we first talked. I hope it isn’t inconvenient, our calling on you unannounced.”
“No, not at all.” Julia nevertheless sounded slightly disconcerted. “Do come through.” She led the way to the room where she had first spoken to the detectives.
Constable decided to come straight to the point. “Mrs. Baverstock, you indicated to us that your conversations with Sir Richard on the day of his death were entirely amicable. That wasn’t true, was it?”
Julia seemed taken aback by the directness of the question. “I like to think we were both perfectly civilised …” she blustered.
“Nonsense!” broke in Constable brusquely. “Please don’t waste your time and ours by trying to avoid the truth, Mrs. Baverstock. There was a witness to the scene which took place between yourself and Sir Richard, and they have described it as anything but amicable. You were making accusations regarding his stable’s handling of your highly valuable racehorse, and according to our witness, you left the premises in a state of considerable anger.”
“Oh, what if I did?” responded Julia defiantly. “And you’d have done the same if you’d been in my place. I’d lost a very valuable asset through no fault of my own, and I wanted the matter resolved. But it was obvious that we were going to get nowhere – Richard was fobbing me off with promises that he was going to look into matters – so I left.”
“Agreeing to return later for dinner.”
“Yes. I refused to let matters lie, and I hoped that perhaps Olivia might have some sort of softening effect on Richard’s attitude.”
“So you went back to Effingham Hall in the evening?”
“Yes.”
“But Sir Richard wasn’t there in the room when you arrived?”
“No. I think I’ve told you all this already, inspector,” said Julia impatiently.
“Merely seeking to ensure that we have all the details correct, madam,” said Constable smoothly. “So, you were in the drawing room with the other members of the family …”
“For a while, yes. And then that idiot James spilt the sherry, so then he went to change, and not long after that, Olivia went off somewhere. To be frank, I was glad she did – you could see her mind wasn’t on the conversation.”
“So then you were left alone. And there was still no sign of Sir Richard. So, in fact, you’re confirming that you didn’t see him at all that evening?”
There was a very long pause. “Oh, all right, inspector,” flashed Julia. “Yes, if you must know, I did.”
“Perhaps you’d like to tell us about it, Mrs. Baverstock,” invited Constable softly.
Julia took a deep breath to steady herself. “I admit it. I was still seething from that afternoon, and somebody had said that Richard was in the library, so after Olivia left, I went in there to give Richard a piece of my mind.”
“And how did he respond?”
“He didn’t, inspector. He just sat there looking at me with that stupid contemptuous look on his face. He had a habit of doing that whenever somebody was saying something to him that he didn’t want to hear.”
“But you let him know in no uncertain terms what your feelings were?”
“Yes, I did. And I have to say that it felt so good to get the whole thing off my chest. When I’d finished, I turned on my heel and walked out on him. To be frank, I don’t know why I didn’t just keep walking, out of his house and out of his life. But for some reason, I didn’t. I just went back to the drawing room and sat there on my own waiting for dinner.” She snorted. “Not that I was looking forward to it much.”
“Leaving the matter of your dispute over your racehorse still unresolved,” said Constable. “Which is the way it will presumably have to remain.”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” declared Julia firmly. “I can make a claim against the business. Not, if the whispers I hear are true, that I may have much luck there. But if all else fails, I can pursue the estate. I’m not letting this go, inspector.”
*
“Secrets and lies, guv,” said Copper, as the two detectives climbed back into the car. “And she’s a lady with a temper, you can’t deny that. So surely that puts her well back into the frame. She was on the spot, and she had plenty of reasons to have it in for Sir Richard.”
“But to kill him?” responded Constable. “With all this horse business still hanging in the air? Would that have been in her own self-interest?”
“People lose logic in the heat of the moment, sir.”
“True. But she has one thing in her favour. Immediately after the shot was fired, she appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. Unless she’s mastered the art of teleportation, she’s someone else who can’t be in two places at once.”
“And since we can’t either, guv,” grinned Copper, “I suppose I’d better get on with driving us to our next port of call.”
“Which I take to be the Effingham stables.”
“Do you want me to give them a call to check that Mr. Worcester is on the premises, sir? We don’t want a wasted journey.”
“I think not,” said Constable. “Why give the gentleman warning? It seems to me that the element of surprise is far more efficacious in producing unguarded revelations.”
Simon Worcester was just about to get into his car as the detectives arrived at the offices of the Effingham racing establishment. “Will this take long, inspector? I have to … I was just about to go out.”
“We’ll try not to keep you, Mr. Worcester,” said Constable with a bland but implacable smile, “but I was hoping to straighten out a few things. Would we be more comfortable inside?”
Seated once again in Simon’s office, Constable indicated to Copper to produce his notebook and prepare to make notes. Simon, observing this, uneasily brought out a whisky bottle from his desk drawer and poured himself a shaky drink.
“On the afternoon of Sir Richard’s death,” began the inspector, “you visited him at home. You told us that you needed to deal with some routine paperwork. It sounds to me as if you were very punctilious when it came to keeping your documentation in order.”
“Yes,” said Simon hesitantly. “You need to be.”
“Except, perhaps, when it came to the insurance on ‘Last Edition’,” pounced Constable.
“I … I don’t know what you’re getting at, inspector.”
“Please, Mr. Worcester,” sighed Constable. “There was a conversation heard, and if you absolutely insist I can have Sergeant Copper here recite the salient points, which informed us that there was a dispute between Sir Richard and Mrs. Julia Baverstock over the fate of her racehorse. And the question of the horse’s insured status was at the heart of this. Or should I say, non-insured status.”
Simon looked evasive. “If it hadn’t been for that damned horse of Julia’s, everything would have been fine.”
“So there were problems. Which, I take it, would leave the business liable to pay any compensation. How very fortunate, then, that the business is in such a good financial position under your stewardship.” The wolfish smile appeared again. “I assume that’s the case, anyway. Although …” Constable turned to his junior. “Copper, remind me. Didn’t someone mention something about whispers concerning the financial health of the stables?”
Copper caught on swiftly. “I believe they did, sir.”
“And …” Constable suddenly recalled a snippet of conversation, and took a guess. “Wasn’t there some hint of gambling losses?”
Simon crumpled. “Rumours. It’s all just rumours. And people taking their horses away from us and putting them with other trainers because of some poisonous gossip. It would all have sorted itself out. And I might have borrowed some money from the business, and some of the bills hadn’t been paid on time, including that insurance, but
really, it was all Richard’s fault.”
Constable regarded Simon disbelievingly. “You’re saying that your old school friend, the man who placed you in charge of the financial organisation of this business, is responsible for the mishandling of its money?”
“Richard should have checked the insurances,” insisted Simon. “They were all in his name, not mine. And I told him when I went to see him that afternoon that everything would be put right, and that’s why I phoned up that evening.”
“To reassure him?”
“Yes.” Simon’s face was growing shinier.
“You called from here?”
“Yes. Well, here, or up at the stables themselves. I really can’t remember exactly.”
“But either here on the land-line, or from the stables on your mobile?”
“Yes. I just use whichever phone is handiest. Does it matter? The point was, when I called, itwas just after Richard had been shot, so I drove straight over there to see what I could do. But you know all that. I got there when the other police car did. They’ll tell you.”
“That can certainly be confirmed, sir.” Constable got to his feet. “Well, I don’t think we need to trouble you any further at this juncture, Mr. Worcester. Obviously, in the light of what you’ve told us, we have various matters that we’ll want to look into further. But for now, we’ll be out of your way.” As the detectives left the office, Simon was pouring a further large measure of whisky.
Chapter 13
“Pull in here.”
“Righty-ho, guv.” Dave Copper obediently pulled the car into a lay-by.
“Something’s bugging you, sergeant,” said Andy Constable. “I can hear the wheels churning. Out with it.”
