by L. A. Nisula
The sergeant made no attempt to answer my very reasonable question.
“Sergeant Harris from Stow-on-the-Wold,” Mrs. Otway provided. “If you don’t need me, I’ll be going home.”
I was surprised when Sergeant Harris didn’t say anything. In my experience, policemen liked to get all of the witness statements as quickly as possible. Instead, he kept his attention on Mrs. Albright and me. “Why are you here?”
It would have been very tempting to answer, “To rob the bank,” as his tone seemed to imply he thought something of the sort, but he’d probably believe it, so I held my tongue and let Mrs. Albright answer.
“Mrs. Foster and I are old friends. She was going to visit her niece in York and wrote to ask if I wanted to stay at her cottage while she was gone. I invited Miss Pengear along.”
“And when did you arrive?”
“About quarter past eleven,” Mrs. Albright answered, “in Kingham.”
“And why did you wait so long to report the body?”
He was clearly irritated at us, which irritated me, so I answered that one. “We didn’t. Mrs. Otway went to find Mrs. Dalby as soon as we found him, and Jerry left to get you as soon as she did.” I didn’t know that for certain, but from the brief glimpse I’d had of Jerry, he seemed the sort who would find the chance to report a body to the police the sort of adventure he couldn’t wait to start on.
“It took you three hours to get from Kingham to Eybry?” He didn’t sound as if he believed me.
“Of course not. Quite a bit happened in between.” When he didn’t ask what, I proceeded to tell him anyway, starting with finding Mr. Westin in Kingham, through our trip around the villages, and ending with finding Mrs. Otway at home at last and entering the cottage.
Sergeant Harris didn’t take nearly as many notes as I thought he ought to, and when I’d finished, didn’t ask any questions beyond, “And where is the body?”
“Inside. I’ll show you.” I led him into the cottage and pointed out the body, although I did hope he’d noticed it on his own. I also pointed out the fireplace poker in the umbrella stand and explained how I’d come to move it there. I considered pointing out that it would have my fingerprints on it because I’d nearly tripped over it, but decided not to mention it. I didn’t want him to think of looking for my prints on it if he hadn’t on his own.
I stayed quietly by the entryway and watched as Sergeant Harris went up to the body and stared at it. “Do you know him?”
“No, but Mrs. Otway said it was someone named Mr. Hoyt.”
Sergeant Harris didn’t answer but flipped the body over, which seemed rather irresponsible without having checked the area for clues or waited for the coroner. From my place by the stairs, I couldn’t see much of Mr. Hoyt, but he didn’t seem to have a head wound on the back of his head, and the back of his suit looked quite dry, both curious facts I filed away to consider later. Before I could look for more, Sergeant Harris had risen from the floor and come to the door. “Outside.”
It didn’t seem worth arguing, so I went outside. Sergeant Harris followed me out and called for the constables, who both hurried across the lawn and followed him inside. I went to stand near Mrs. Albright in the front garden.
“What did you think of him?” she asked as soon as we were sure all of the policemen were inside.
“I had the feeling he suspects us.”
“So did I,” she murmured. “How did he do with the crime scene?” She knew I had seen many crime scenes handled through no fault of my own.
“Terribly. He doesn’t seem to have called in the coroner, he’s moved the body already, I didn’t see him look for clues on the hearth rug, and he barely took any notes during our statements. At least Inspector Wainwright takes notes, no matter how annoyed he is.”
Mrs. Albright snorted, but then she rarely had anything good to say about Inspector Wainwright herself.
We stood near the path to the cottage watching the policemen walk in and out and trying to stay out of their way. They didn’t seem to be looking at the path, I noticed, or the area under the windows. Did that mean they knew how the killer got in or were they sure there was nothing to find in the plants near the cottage? And then I reminded myself I wasn’t investigating, this wasn’t even our cottage, and if it came to it, we had a good alibi for most of the morning. Although how Mr. Hoyt got in was a good question. And had the killer gotten in the same way? Or had Mr. Hoyt let him in before he was killed? Although, now that I thought of it, there hadn’t been much blood, which might have meant he hadn’t been killed here. But then how had someone gotten his body inside? And did our missing key have anything to do with it? I supposed I hoped it did, as we were now in possession of that key and could keep it safe. Otherwise, there was the real possibility that someone could break in the same way while we were inside. That was not a cheerful thought.
I was wondering which of the policemen would be best to ask about the possibility of a future break-in when the taller one came down the path and stopped near us. “Ladies, I’m Constable Taylor. You found the body, correct?”
“That’s right,” I told him, momentarily wondering how he’d known then realizing we were probably the only two people he didn’t recognize at the scene, and as he knew it was Mrs. Foster’s visitors who had found the body, it was a simple enough deduction.
“Sergeant Harris will want to talk to you at the station after he’s looked over the crime scene.”
Perhaps he would take better notes then. Perhaps he had wanted to see the crime scene before he heard our version of events. At least I hoped that was the case. Otherwise, it might simply be that he suspected us. “Not here at the cottage? That would seem more convenient.” And allow me to keep watching what I could of the investigation.
“No, he likes to question people at the station. And it can’t be nice for you two to be waiting out here while we’re going through the sitting room.”
“We don’t mind,” Mrs. Albright put in.
“That’s very kind of you to say, but Constable Palmer will be driving back there to get us some dinner and pick up a few things from the station, and he’s offered to drive the pair you into town. There’s a very respectable pub there you could go to, or the tea shop. I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable at either of those. And we’ll send someone to find you when the sergeant’s ready for you.”
I was getting ready to object again, but Constable Palmer was already there, ready to walk us down the path. And I suspected Constable Taylor sensed I was getting ready to protest as he said, “Those are your cases in the garden shed that’s open? I’ll have someone carry them inside for you after we’ve moved the body.”
Having someone move our luggage for us was a help. At least, that was what I told myself as we were led down the path to the waiting gig.
Constable Palmer was the constable we’d seen at Kingham Station, so I assumed he could give us an alibi if we needed it, at least by confirming we’d arrived when we’d said we had. That meant it was best to stay on his good side, so I didn’t ask any of the questions I was turning over in my head, which ranged from when he thought Mr. Hoyt had been killed to whether or not we were suspects. It also meant that the trip through the countryside passed in awkward silence. As we rode through Stow-on-the-Wold, Constable Palmer made an effort at conversation by pointing out a few things. “There’s the police station up ahead. Sergeant Harris will send someone to look for you when he’s ready for you. There’s a good tea shop just down the street there if you’d like to get something for dinner while you wait. There are some shops for walkers on the left there. The other shops are mostly for locals, although now that I think of it, if you’re staying at the cottage for a few days, you might need to buy some things from them. I’ll let you off right here in the square. If you need someone to drive you back, just ask Constable Garrett at the desk. He’ll find someone.”
Constable Palmer stopped the gig as he’d said he would near the town square, and Mrs. Albright and I got down.
We waited until he’d continued on to the police station before we started talking. “I suppose we’ve been spoiled by having Scotland Yard men investigate our crimes, but really, Cassie, I don’t know about that sergeant.”
“Hopefully, we just need to give him a chance. Although I’d feel better if he’d taken a look at the front walk before everyone trampled all over it. What should we do now?”
“Shall we have a look at the shops before they close, then go on to have something to eat?”
As we had no idea how long it would be before Sergeant Harris was done at the cottage and ready to question us, it seemed like a good idea, and we set out for the shops. There was more variety there than there’d been in Eybry, and more people milling about. Neither of us bought anything since we weren’t quite sure how we’d be getting back to Oakwood Cottage, but I made note of a few places I wanted to return to when I could buy something.
When we’d finished at the shops, we made our way to the tea shop Constable Palmer had suggested, as it seemed simpler than searching around for someplace to eat, and I for one had had enough of that for one day. The tea shop was a small, cozy place, with lace curtains and small tables, mostly filled with village ladies who’d been at the shops themselves. We were seated at once and ordered tea and sandwiches as soon as we had a table.
The woman who brought our food over was not the same one who had taken our order. She was older and better dressed, which made me think she was the owner or some sort of supervisor. Briefly, I wondered if we’d done something to warrant being looked over by a manager, then I remembered I wasn’t in London and most likely the only thing we’d done was be a pair of new faces in the area.
“Here you are, ladies. I hope you enjoy your food. I’ll just leave a card with our hours. Were you staying nearby?”
I was going to say something non-committal like “fairly close” or “not in the village” but Mrs. Albright beat me to it by answering in more detail than I would have. “At Oakwood Cottage.”
“Oh my. Then you’re in town to speak to the police. Maisie said that’s what she’d heard, but you never want to listen to gossip. I mean, they’re saying all sorts of things about what you found in your cottage.”
“It was quite shocking,” Mrs. Albright agreed. “I certainly wasn’t expecting the cottage to come with a body.”
“I should say not. I’d heard it was Mr. Hoyt.”
So that was what she’d been after, confirmation of who the victim was.
Mrs. Albright nodded. “That’s what we were told. Of course, we’d never met him so we didn’t know.”
“Of course. How did you find out? The police?”
“No, Mrs. Otway had the key, and she came with us to open up the cottage. She was the one who identified him.”
“I suppose she would know him, wouldn’t she? But poor Mrs. Avery. I wonder if she’s been told. Still, you two must be hungry. I’ll let you eat in peace. If you want a bit of a sweet after, I have a nice trifle in back, or some raspberry tarts.”
We ate in silence until I was certain no one was lurking around to listen, then I murmured, “The news travels as fast as you would think here.”
“Indeed. I think she’s almost as good as Mrs. Parnell at passing along the latest.”
“I wonder who Mrs. Avery is.”
Mrs. Albright nodded. “I was under the impression that he was married. It seems it will be quite an interesting funeral.”
I was going to ask if we would be required to go to it—I certainly hoped not; finding a corpse did not seem to constitute any sort of relationship close enough to warrant an invitation—when I had the feeling someone was nearby. I managed to glance around while pretending to be sure I hadn’t dropped a glove and saw that it was only the waitress who’d met us at the door showing another pair of ladies to a table not far from ours. Mrs. Albright quickly changed the topic to what we might want to do on our first full day in the area, and we finished the meal discussing very neutral and safe topics just in case anyone was listening.
I was halfway through the last cucumber sandwich when I heard my name. “Miss Pengear, Mrs. Albright, I’m glad to see you found someplace to have a good meal.” Constable Taylor was making his way around the tables while attracting quite a lot of stares. I supposed he’d called out to us so no one would think there were some goings-on in the shop itself that were the reason for his visit.
I was not at all surprised that he had managed to figure out where we were. Half the town probably knew by now. “Hello, Constable Taylor. Would you care to join us?”
“No, on duty and all. But Sergeant Harris is ready to see you.”
“Can we at least finish our food?”
“Of course. I’ll just wait here so I can show you where the station is.”
And to make certain we did go directly to the station when we’d finished, no doubt, but Constable Taylor did a very good job of not looking bored or impatient for us to hurry up and be done. He even waited a few moments after we’d finished to be sure we didn’t want another cup of tea before we were ready to leave.
The police station was not far from the tea shop; in fact, Mrs. Albright and I could probably have found it on our own without a guide or directions, but Constable Taylor had been sent for us, so he would be blamed if we got lost on the way there, deliberately or not. The police station itself was larger than I’d been expecting, with a sort of foyer that we entered into, and a long desk where the constable on duty kept an eye on who came and went, and a door leading to what I assumed were the offices behind him. Constable Taylor brought us straight through to the door, with a nod to the constable on duty as we passed. It led to a hallway with several office doors and one at the end that seemed to lead to a sort of common room. There were a couple of chairs near the door we’d just entered, and very little else.
“Sergeant Harris wanted to see Mrs. Albright first. If you would just wait here, Miss Pengear.”
I nodded, and Constable Taylor ushered Mrs. Albright through to the sergeant’s office while I sat in the hard-backed chair by the door and pretended to be interested in a two-day-old copy of the local newspaper.
Chapter 5
SITTING IN THE EMPTY HALLWAY with nothing but an old newspaper for entertainment made the time crawl, but a glance at my watch pin told me that Mrs. Albright’s interview hadn’t lasted more than fifteen minutes, not nearly as long as I’d feared it would. I tried to catch her eye as she passed and see if she could give me any indication of how the interview went, but Constable Taylor ushered her past me quickly. “You can go right through, Miss Pengear.”
“I’ll wait for you out here,” was all Mrs. Albright was able to say before Constable Taylor led her out into the foyer. It seemed best to get it over with as quickly as possible, so I went in the door Mrs. Albright and Constable Taylor had just come out of.
Inside, Sergeant Harris was sitting behind a large desk that was clear of all paperwork save for the folder open in front of him. I would have been more impressed if I hadn’t seen the large and teetering pile of papers hastily stacked behind the window curtain. I was tempted to blow in its direction and see if the whole thing toppled over, but I didn’t want to annoy Sergeant Harris before he even started questioning me.
“I will need your full name.”
Apparently, he did not mind annoying me before the questioning started properly. I sat in the chair across from his desk, which I noticed I had not been offered, and told him, “Cassandra Alice Pengear.”
“And why were you at Oakwood Cottage?”
This was all the information I’d given him when he’d arrived at the cottage, but I humored him and didn’t mention that. “It was being loaned to us for a holiday.”
“And when did you first arrive at the cottage?”
“We took the nine-thirty from Paddington Station to Kingham, which got there at eleven-ten. Constable Palmer saw us outside the station,” I added, as it seemed a good idea to mention we had a witness to our arr
ival, “and suggested Mr. Westin could bring us from the station to the cottage. He did, and when we got to the cottage, we couldn’t get in, so I couldn’t see the time, but it didn’t seem to take that long.”
“So from shortly after eleven until Mrs. Otway summoned us, your time is unaccounted for.”
“I wouldn’t say that. As I told you back at the cottage, we did quite a bit in between.”
He ignored that remark and went on to his next question. “Describe finding the body.”
That seemed to begin with getting into the cottage, so I told him about Mrs. Otway showing us where she’d left the key and opening the door and nearly tripping over the fireplace poker, something I described in great detail so he would know why my fingerprints were on it and where they ought to be located. I noticed he didn’t write any of it down, not even when I described seeing Mr. Hoyt on the hearth rug.
“And you knew he was Mr. Hoyt?”
“Not at the time. Mrs. Otway came in after sending for you lot and told us.”
“Mrs. Otway sent for the police, then.” He said that in a tone that suggested he’d caught me out in something.
“Yes, I went in alone and found the body, then called outside to ask her where we could find a policeman. She said she would send Jerry from next door for one.”
“I see.” That time he did write something down. “And why did you go in alone?”
“Mrs. Albright and Mrs. Otway were carrying in the first of our luggage. I wanted to be sure the door hadn’t locked itself.” He didn’t write that down.
“You seem to have thought all this through quite well.”
“I’ve typed up a lot of witness statements for Scotland Yard. I know the kinds of things they want to know.” No point in telling him I’d also been questioned by Scotland Yard on more than one occasion.
“Or you knew you would be needing an alibi and made certain to have one.”
“Sergeant, do you honestly think I arrived on the nine-thirty from Paddington, rushed from Kingham to Eybry, killed someone I’d never met, and hid them in Mrs. Foster’s cottage?”
