by L. A. Nisula
“You found the body, you had the murder weapon...”
“Only because I almost tripped over it, if it is the murder weapon. There didn’t seem to be much blood.”
“You knew the victim.”
“Only his name, and only because Mrs. Otway told me.”
“And you were there when we arrived.”
“Because I sent for you. When am I supposed to have committed this crime?”
“There was a good two hours between the time the 11:10 from Paddington arrived at the station and the time the Eybry post office telephoned. That’s plenty of time to kill someone, even counting the time it takes for Westin to run you over from the station. And a suspiciously long time between arriving and entering the cottage.”
“We didn’t mean to take so long, but Mrs. Otway wasn’t at home when we went to get the key, so we walked back to Eybry to get something to eat.”
“And that took you over an hour?”
I wished I’d started the story of finding the body with our arrival in Kingham even though I’d already told him the whole thing back at the cottage. “As I said, we had a little trouble finding something.”
“In a village the size of Eybry? What did you do? Get lost between the pub and the post office? It’s a good two-minute walk.”
I could see by now, if I hadn’t before, that nothing I said was going to convince him that we were telling the truth. But saying nothing would only make me look more guilty. “Obviously, we didn’t want to go to the pub.” I could tell he was the sort who would think it was obvious that two ladies would not go to any pub, let alone the somewhat dodgy one in Eybry. “So we tried the little cheese shop on the corner, only no one was there, so we wandered around until we found the grocery at the end of the lane and bought sandwiches.”
“And you expect me to believe that Elliott left his store unattended at what, eleven-forty-five in the morning? Just before people start coming to look for their lunches?”
“I thought it seemed strange myself, but he didn’t answer the bell.” I decided against telling him I’d wandered in back and heard him upstairs. “Perhaps he was delivering an order, or was taken ill, or left someone else in charge while he went somewhere and they didn’t take it as seriously as he would have. You can ask in the square. I’m sure there are plenty of people who saw us wandering around.”
“And even if everyone from the vicarage to the River Eye says they saw you, you still would have had plenty of time to kill him before you went to find lunch. Quite cold-blooded, but then so is murder.”
But his mention of the river reminded me of something I’d noticed. “Actually, we couldn’t have. We were in Eybry at noon, Mr. Burton at the grocery will vouch for that; in fact, I should still have a receipt for our lunch. And it took us twenty minutes more or less to walk from there to Lower Slaughter, where the miller saw us and can vouch for our arrival. And another twenty minutes from there to Upper Slaughter, where I bought some raspberries from a stall, which I also have a receipt for. So not counting the time it took us to eat, which was a good half-hour, I’d guess, there was no way we could have murdered him after our trip to Lower Slaughter, wouldn’t you agree?”
“And you will recall that I said you had...”
“I’m getting to that, but you do agree it couldn’t have been after, correct?”
Sargent Harris gave me an exaggerated sort of nod that would have been a sort of bow if it hadn’t been so mocking. “All right, it would be difficult for you to have managed it.”
“Particularly with Mrs. Otway watching us let ourselves in,” I added so he would remember we couldn’t have committed the murder when we arrived at the cottage. “So we would have had to murder him before we left, which would be difficult as we didn’t have a key to the cottage, and impossible when you consider his clothes.”
“His clothes, Miss Pengear? I fail to see what him wearing a tweed coat and an ascot has to do with anything.”
“Not his sartorial choices, as unfortunate as they may have been,” I took a rather malicious enjoyment watching him try to remember what the word sartorial meant, “but their state, which was also deplorable. Soaked through and still dripping on the carpet. Our trip to find the key, even in the most rushed circumstances, which this was not, would have taken well over an hour. Surely that would be enough time for him to start drying out. Whatever he did to get himself so wet must have happened much sooner, not so very long before we arrived.”
Sargent Harris looked through the papers on his desk twice, his frown getting more pronounced the more he read. When he finally looked back at me, I knew he’d conceded the point, even though he said, “You could have dumped a vase of water over him to hide evidence.”
“More like a bathtub of water, and that would have been a very foolish thing to do, if for no other reason than it would ruin Mrs. Foster’s carpet, which was not soaked beyond the area where he was laying, I might add. How we would have managed that, I have no idea. Now, were you going to charge me?” It seemed best to ask that while I had him confused and annoyed.
“No, but you are to leave your address with Constable Garrett, and don’t leave the area without my say-so.”
I was tempted to point out that he already knew where I was staying in the area as he’d been called to remove a dead body from my front parlor, but I resisted the temptation and went out into the lobby where Constable Taylor and Mrs. Albright were waiting. Mrs. Albright seemed to have acquired several parcels while I’d been with the sergeant. I paused at Constable Garrett’s desk. “I’m to leave you my address. Will we be able to return to the cottage?”
Constable Taylor answered. “Yes, we have everything removed that we needed to. And your London address is the same as Mrs. Albright’s?”
“That’s right. Flat C, though.”
“Then that’s all I need. The men should be done with Oakwood Cottage, so you can return there so long as you stay out of the sitting room, or you can find rooms at a nearby inn. If you do so, tell the landlord to notify us of your room. I asked Mr. Quinn if he would drive you back to Eybry. He won’t mind; he has a new steam carriage and takes any chance he can to get it out on the road.”
The prospect of a walk all the way back to Oakwood Cottage did not sound appealing after being interviewed by Sargent Harris. Mrs. Albright must have felt the same, as she said, “Then we’ll gladly give him an excuse to take it out.”
“If you’ll give me a minute, then, I’ll go and fetch him.”
“We’ll wait outside,” I said at once, “so you don’t have to look for us.” And so I didn’t have to spend another minute in the police station.
I wasn’t sure if Constable Taylor knew my reasoning or not, but he did say, “There’s a good spot for him to stop and let you in at the corner. I’ll show you where.”
The corner Constable Taylor led us to was several yards away from the police station, which did indeed make it a good place to wait. Once Constable Taylor had gone in search of Mr. Quinn, Mrs. Albright asked me how my questioning had gone, so I told her all the annoying details.
She nodded when I’d finished. “He wasn’t quite so irritating with me. He mostly wanted to know what happened when we found the body, nothing about alibis. It’s too bad none of your little friends in the pasture could testify for you, but I don’t think Sergeant Harris speaks sheep, which is quite a pity. They’d probably be able to tell him who did it.”
“They’d at least do a better job of investigating than he is,” I muttered.
“I certainly hope we don’t start having any trouble while we’re on holiday.”
“I don’t think he really suspects us.” And as I said it, I realized I meant it. I’d been questioned as a murder suspect before, and this time had felt different. “I think he was trying to push me and see if my story stayed the same.”
“The police aren’t what you need to worry about, Cassie. You didn’t hear them talking in the shops. I went around the corner and picked up a
few provisions for us while you were with the sergeant, and the local ladies think you’re his fancy lady down from London to do him in.”
“Why on earth would they think that?”
“Because it’s easier than suspecting any of his local fancy ladies.”
“You make it sound like there are a lot of them.”
“I got three names without even trying.”
“But still, I’d never met him.”
“And they’re insisting it was a crime of passion and jealousy. The brutality of it, is what I was told.”
“And where did they get that? The police have only known about the murder for an hour or so.”
“The description of the scene I heard had a very penny-dreadful air about it.”
“Jerry.”
Mrs. Albright nodded. “He probably told his friends about being involved in finding the body, and they told their parents or someone in a shop, and now you’re a suspect in the shops, at least, if not the police station.”
I was going to protest again, but Constable Taylor arrived just then with a young gentleman in an old but well-cared-for steam carriage. As he was wearing a full driving kit, including gloves and goggles, I assumed he was Mr. Quinn. Constable Taylor opened the carriage door for us. “Constable Palmer is at the cottage to let you in. He’ll tell you if there’s anything you need to know.”
“Thank you,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. It wasn’t Constable Taylor’s fault Sergeant Harris wasn’t listening to reason.
Chapter 6
MR. QUINN SPOKE VERY LITTLE on the ride to the cottage once he’d gotten us settled inside his carriage. All of his attention was on his driving, checking his gauges, and fiddling with the levers. At first, I was worried that there was something wrong with the carriage, then I realized he’d just gotten it and still found every detail of it fascinating. That allowed me to lean back and enjoy the scenery, or enjoy it as much as I could while thinking about a murder.
But the steam gig proved to be fast, and the journey was over before I’d really gotten a chance to consider what little I knew of the case, not that I was planning on investigating it. Although it would have been nice to know how Mr. Hoyt’s body had gotten into the sitting room to begin with.
Constable Palmer was waiting for us outside the cottage. “Sergeant Harris said you ladies were to be allowed back in, but to stay out of the sitting room. The barriers will show you what’s off-limits.”
Mrs. Albright and I both went to the front door and looked inside. The entryway was open, as was the staircase going up to the bedrooms, but there were crime scene barriers—long strips of cloth that attached with magnets—across the end of the entryway leading into the sitting room. Someone had brought the rest of our cases in from the shed and piled them by the staircase.
Constable Palmer interrupted our examination by asking, “Is this all of your luggage here? I’d be happy to get it upstairs for you.”
I suspected it was a peace offering, but it was also an offer I wasn’t about to turn down. “That looks like all of it.”
Mrs. Albright was just as ready to accept the assistance. “I’ll show you what goes in which room.”
While Mrs. Albright went to supervise the moving of our luggage, I went in further to see how bad the situation was.
Mr. Hoyt had been moved, that was something at least. I didn’t fancy sleeping with a corpse in the room below. Not that it would be the first time, although it would have been the first time I’d done it knowing the corpse was there. Otherwise, the whole set-up was as inconvenient as I had feared. The small entryway opened directly into the sitting room, which then opened into a small hallway that led to the kitchen and whatever else was on the ground floor of the cottage. The way into the sitting room was completely blocked at both the ends, the one leading into the entrance where I was standing and the one going to the kitchen. The tape stretched from the banister of the staircase to the umbrella stand that had been moved to the edge of the door, meaning there wasn’t anyplace for us to go except upstairs. I supposed that was something; at least we could get to the bedrooms. I leaned forward to get a better look at the sitting room.
The place where Mr. Hoyt had been lying was outlined with string on the carpet. The carpet itself did not seem to be damaged, which meant he hadn’t bled much, and despite the soaking his front seemed to have taken, there hadn’t been much water on his back. Drowning seemed likely then. When I heard Mrs. Albright directing Constable Palmer through to the staircase, I remembered my original intent and looked at the tapes blocking the way into the sitting room.
“There isn’t a second staircase, is there?” I asked as Constable Palmer bent to pick up one of our trunks.
“Just the one. No back way down to the kitchen, I’m afraid.”
“I had hoped.” It was hardly the holiday we’d been expecting. “How do we get to the kitchen?”
“The back door, I’m afraid.”
“So if I want a glass of water in the night, I have to come downstairs, go out the front door, walk around the house in the dark, find the backdoor, then repeat the whole thing to get back upstairs?”
At least Constable Palmer looked apologetic. “I left two very nice police lanterns for you. They should light things up very nicely and scare away any—not that there are any animals to scare away beyond foxes and such, but still, they won’t like the light. And if you’d like me to stay the night in a chair...”
I glanced at Mrs. Albright and was relieved to see her give a small shake of her head. “No, we’ll be fine. But if you could convince the sergeant to let us have a path to the kitchen...”
“I’ll do my best.” He shifted the trunk so he could pull it upstairs. “Why don’t you go around and see if you have everything you need for the night? If you want to go to the shops, I can drop you in the village on my way back to the station.”
I knew he was trying to be helpful and that it wasn’t his fault we’d had a body in our sitting room, so I collected up Mrs. Albright’s parcels, went out the front door, around the cottage, and in through the kitchen door. As we’d had a substantial tea in Stow-on-the-Wold, and Mrs. Albright had stopped to buy tea and scones and quite a few other things while Sergeant Harris had been questioning me, we were well enough stocked for the night, but it did get me out of Constable Palmer’s way and gave me a chance to look around.
The Oakwood Cottage kitchen was small but well planned, or would have been if there hadn’t been the inconvenience of a crime scene in the sitting room. The kitchen was small and filled with enough modern conveniences to make even my tinkering friend Kate proud. The only thing it seemed to be lacking was a back staircase to the upstairs bedrooms, but then the designer had most likely not anticipated a body in the parlor. I doubted even Kate would plan for that eventuality, and she’d known me for ages. As I was putting away Mrs. Albright’s purchases, I found a tea kettle and put it near the hob for when we needed it. Murders did seem to require tea. I could hear footsteps above me and the sound of trunks being dragged about, then water running somewhere above my head, and finally footsteps going towards the stairs. I went back outside, around the cottage, through the front door, and into the entryway to see if Constable Palmer had anything else to tell us.
“I’ve got the cases moved, and the lanterns are there on the entryway table. Do you see how to use them?”
They were similar to some of Kate’s fancier lanterns, so we were both familiar with their features. Once Constable Palmer was sure we were settled, he bid us good evening and left.
Once we’d seen Constable Palmer off, Mrs. Albright and I took the lanterns and went around to the kitchen to start a pot of a tea. Well, Mrs. Albright started the tea. I went to stand in the doorway leading to the sitting room and tried to get a better look at things. “Should we be locking the front door when we come around? Anyone could walk in and go right upstairs while we’re back here.”
Mrs. Albright didn’t turn away from the ket
tle. “It’s not like London here. There’s very little noise outside; we’d hear anyone coming up the front steps. Not that we’ll leave anything unlocked overnight.”
“No, not with a crime scene downstairs. You never know who might come to take something away or leave something behind.” I turned back to the kitchen in time to see Mrs. Albright look towards the back door, and I wondered if we would start locking the doors behind us every time we went in and out. It would be terribly inconvenient, but safer. Before I could ask, the kettle started to boil, and I went to find the teacups I’d seen earlier.
I waited until we were settled in with our tea to say, “You said you heard rumors in the shops.”
“Indeed. Constable Taylor seemed to think it would take Sergeant Harris a while to question you, and I knew we’d need some things here at the cottage, so I asked him what sort of shops there were nearby. I remembered hearing about Mrs. Avery at the teashop, and I was hoping I could come up with some way to ask about her without being obvious. It turned out I didn’t need to worry. Everyone was talking about the murder. They barely noticed I was there. It seems it was well known that he had been seeing Mrs. Avery in Donnington, which is a village two towns over, whenever he’d had business there back when he’d still had his sales route. The question seemed to be whether or not he was still seeing her now that he was at the pub, with a good bit of speculation as to whether or not he’d actually gone to Bristol as he’d said he was.”
“That should be easy enough for the police to check. If Sergeant Harris thinks of it, of course. And you thought they suspected me?”
“Well, one of us. They kept mentioning the ladies staying at Mrs. Foster’s cottage, wondering who we were, why we decided to stay here, and it kept coming back to why he was in our sitting room to begin with. They seemed to think he must have come to meet one of us, and that was why we had borrowed the cottage. And half seemed to think Ellen knew about it, and half thought she’d be shocked when she found out what her cottage was being used for.”
