by L. A. Nisula
That seemed a good opening to get that question answered. “How did you manage it?”
“With a great deal of trouble. First I had to wade into the river, which was very cold and very wet, and move his clothes away from the reeds so they wouldn’t catch. Then back on shore, I grabbed his ankles and dragged him out. The inspector seemed very interested in that process.”
“There were head wounds. They might have been made as you were dragging him over rocks or something.”
“Probably. He did cosh his head a few times on the way out. Then I grabbed his arms and Freddie took his legs, and we hauled him off down the lane. Not nearly as pleasant as it sounds, particularly as I was dripping wet and so was he. I’d love to know how the ladies managed it. I’m sure it was something terribly clever.”
There didn’t seem to be any harm in telling him. “A wheelbarrow.”
“Now, that is clever. We’re so useless, we never would have thought of it. Just lugged him down the lane. Freddie didn’t even think to grab him from behind his back so he could walk facing forward. I had to direct him the whole way to the cottage.”
I could imagine the pair of them hobbling down the lane, Mr. Hoyt’s body hanging between them. It would certainly have been the talk of the village had they been seen. “How did you get into the cottage?”
“That was a puzzle, but when we got there, Freddie tripped over an old flowerpot and there was a key to the door. It seemed like a sign.”
“But not that there were going to be guests staying in the cottage?”
“I suppose it should have been, shouldn’t it? Sorry about that. We were just so pleased to have gotten there without being seen. We left him on the hearth rug as that seemed nice and central. And leaving him in the kitchen seemed a bit... Well, with the food there and all.”
I certainly would not have been eating in a kitchen where a body had been found if I could help it.
“We arranged him as best we could, then went out and locked the door again so Sergeant Harris would wonder how he and the killer had gotten in. I wiped my prints off of the key and tossed it in the grass, and then we ran back to the lodge as fast as we could before anyone spotted us.”
“I hate to think how the fireplace poker came into it.”
“That was Freddie’s idea. He thought we could use it to hide the scrapes from pulling him out of the river. I thought it seemed like too much trouble and mess.”
I shuddered to think what Mr. Hoyt would have looked like when we found him had Mr. Briggs been allowed to go at him with the poker. “I suppose we should thank you for that, then.”
He laughed. “I’m quite pleased I stopped him now that I know it wasn’t going to be Mrs. Foster who found him. But come on, I said I’d meet Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer by the post office. I’m springing for the cart. It’s the least I can do after you lot came to get me out. The pater would not have been amused with a message from the police, such as they are here.”
I wondered how precisely he was going to pay for it, or if it would be the sort of situation I frequently encountered with my cousin Milly that ended with forgotten handbags and me paying for everything, but before I worried about that, I thought it best to let him know the worst. “Sergeant Harris telephoned him before your arrest.”
Lord Hector stopped walking abruptly, then started again as if I hadn’t said anything. “I suppose if he didn’t drop dead of apoplexy, it would be counted a success. Although if he had, my brother would be a better marquess. One with more expansive views on younger sons at least.”
“So you’d expect an allowance from him?” I asked out of habit. Murdering Mr. Hoyt just so the police could give his father the news and hope that it would cause him to drop dead seemed a bit Byzantine even for Lord Hector.
“Not right away. I’d have to go and ask for it, get a bit of guilt going. Look at all you got, look how little I have. And his first reaction would be that I brought it on myself with the estrangement and all, not that that’s my fault really. But it would gnaw at him because he would know it was all entailed anyway, so there would have been nothing for me. So he’d throw a small bit my way to assuage his guilt, and I’m set. Or would be, if the pater would hurry up and get on with it. Now, there’s the post office. Let’s see if the ladies are there.”
The post office was still half a block away, but I took his comment to mean he didn’t want to discuss his family situation, and as I didn’t think it had any bearing on the case, I let the matter drop. “So did Mr. Reynolds’s directions actually send you to Coventry?”
Lord Hector laughed. “No, but when we first came here, he sent us halfway to Swindon and then to Eyford House. We were trying to get to the lodge and then the pub in Eybry.”
I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but I laughed and wondered how Mr. Reynolds ever managed to finish his rounds if he couldn’t find either of those.
By then, we were close enough to see that Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer were both on the corner near the post office. Miss Dyer spotted Lord Hector first, and her first reaction was to turn away, then she noticed I was with him and waved. I waved back as she nudged Miss Hayworth.
Miss Hayworth turned as we were approaching them. She ignored Lord Hector and greeted me. “Hello, Miss Pengear. I hope you weren’t waiting for us too long.”
“No, I saw a bit of the town.” I decided against telling her about my various encounters. I had just told Inspector Wainwright I wasn’t going to share information with them, after all.
“And I kept her company after,” Lord Hector said with a bow.
“We were starting to wonder if you’d got lost along the way,” Miss Hayworth said to him by way of greeting.
Lord Hector made a sweeping sort of gesture to the street we’d just come from. “Mr. Reynolds gave us a little tour of the area.”
Miss Dyer snorted at that. It seemed she shared Lord Hector’s view of Mr. Reynolds and his directions.
“What did you see?” Miss Hayworth asked me, clearly trying to find a way to avoid speaking to Lord Hector.
There wasn’t very much, so I offered the first thing I could think of. “Some sort of gentleman’s residence with a coat of arms. He was a bit vague.”
“A coat of arms?” Miss Hayworth asked. “I can’t think of any building you would have passed by the police station...”
“I couldn’t tell what it was,” I said. “It was so old and—what do you call it when something’s gone all green?”
“You mean with verdigris? Oxidized?” Miss Dyer offered.
“Oh, that must have been the old wool warehouse, not a gentleman’s house at all,” Miss Hayworth said. “He was showing you a medieval insurance medallion. Nothing at all to do with coats of arms. It just meant you’d paid the local firefighter your share of his stipend in advance. That way, if your building caught fire, he didn’t have to wait around for you to pay him and could get to work trying to save your property as soon as he got there. Although how you managed to go past it while traveling from the police station to the post office...”
Lord Hector burst out laughing. “Didn’t I tell you? Half the fun is trying to figure out where he gets his ridiculous ideas. And he tried telling us those stone mushroom things were ancient grinding stones.”
“Staddle stones? Those are just risers to keep mice out of things. And Reynolds a local man!” Miss Hayworth made a sound that would have been a snort had Mr. Reynolds’s lack of knowledge been worth the effort.
Lord Hector seemed to find that equally amusing. “Is that what you call them? I’d wondered if they had a name. Last week he told me they were some sort of ancient cricket game. Never did get his version of the rules clear. Now, I ought to go and find us some sort of a conveyance before you ladies begin to doubt my generosity.” He walked off before any of us could answer that it was already too late.
“I suppose it would have rude to tell him I’d been doubting his generosity since he offered,” Miss Dyer said as we watched
him disappear around the corner.
“At least he’s going in the right direction,” Miss Hayworth said with a sigh. “We’d best be sure we have enough to cover it if he doesn’t.”
“I was thinking of getting his offer in writing,” Miss Dyer said only half-jokingly.
“Or have him pay in advance,” I suggested then decided to change the topic before Lord Hector returned. “How was Sergeant Harris?”
“Irritated to have been proven wrong,” Miss Hayworth said.
“Although it did seem to encourage him to take good notes this time,” Miss Dyer added. “But that might have been more to avoid seeing us again.”
“Not that we minded, as it means we may not have to see him again either.”
I understood that feeling quite well.
Miss Hayworth continued the story. “And then he went to release Lord Hector, only to find Inspector Wainwright had already seen to the paperwork and sent him on his way.”
Miss Dyer grinned at that. “I thought Sergeant Harris was going to start yelling at Inspector Wainwright, but of course that’s very hard to do when he’s just standing there, glaring, waiting for you to get on with it. Sergeant Harris had no choice but to march back into his office and slam the door.”
“Inspector Wainwright almost laughed,” Miss Hayworth finished.
“Laughed at what?” Lord Hector asked as he arrived with the cart he’d rented, which ended up being a sort of steam-powered landau with a high driver’s seat and a pair of rather worn benches behind, facing each other.
I could see they were both considering whether or not to tell him. Miss Dyer finally said, “Sergeant Harris’s reaction to Inspector Wainwright.”
“Now that is something I would like to see, but only when neither of them can see me. Now, shall I hop down and be gentlemanly, or would you ladies like to speed things up and scramble up on your own?”
None of us answered him as we all three went to climb into the back.
“No one planning on keeping me company then? All right, I shall play chauffeur. Where to, me fine birds?”
“That is the worst cockney accent I’ve ever heard,” Miss Dyer informed him.
“Good. My parents will be thrilled to learn there is at least one common thing I do not excel at. Now, all settled in? Then we’re off.”
It wasn’t quite as simple as that. It took Lord Hector three tries to get us moving, including one where he snapped his hands on the steering bar as if he were holding reins while saying, “Giddy-up,” almost pulling the bar out of its socket while not doing anything to get us moving. Eventually, he did find the right lever to pull, although from his reaction—a loud shout of triumph and a waving of his arms that almost caused him to lose control of the landau and put us through the front window of the post office—it was by accident more than design.
Chapter 18
IN SPITE OF LORD HECTOR’S occasional exclamations and one rather long conversation with the steering bar where he tried to convince it to go where he wanted it to with bribery, flattery, and threats, Lord Hector seemed to take his driving quite seriously, or his role as chauffeur seriously. With him it was hard to tell. In any case, he didn’t say much to us as we drove, which was nice as it meant we didn’t have to come up with something to say to him. But as he was sitting just in front of us and not a chauffeur I would trust to be discreet enough not to eavesdrop, it did limit what we could say to each other. It was Miss Hayworth who found a safe topic of conversation.
“The memorial is tomorrow, if you still wanted to go with us.”
“If you don’t mind having me come along. I’d like to see who the players are in this.”
“Finding the body does give you a stake in it,” Miss Dyer said. “I’d be dying to know what happened to him. I suppose I am, as we did find him ourselves earlier in the day.”
Miss Hayworth ignored that. “It starts at noon to allow anyone who’s working to come on their midday break. It won’t be as formal as that sort of thing would be in London either, so you needn’t worry about having something appropriate to wear. Although I’m sure we have a spare black coat if you’d like to borrow it. That should be enough mourning, as you’re not any sort of family.”
As I hadn’t brought anything black with me, I thanked her for the offer and wondered if I ought to start packing a black dress on all my trips since they seemed to involve bodies on a surprisingly regular basis.
Miss Dyer interrupted my thoughts by saying, “Should we come to Oakwood Cottage, or do you want to come to Mulberry Cottage?”
“Mulberry Cottage is closer to Eybry, and you do have the coat there. It’s probably easiest if I come to you.”
Miss Hayworth nodded. “Then if we meet around half-past eleven, that should give us time to get ready and walk over.”
With that settled, there wasn’t much else to discuss with Lord Hector within hearing distance. Miss Dyer started to point out places she was considering painting, which was interesting enough to make the time pass at least.
When we got to the end of the fields and approached inhabited places, I was a bit disappointed to see that we had come to Mulberry Cottage first. I’d rather hoped Oakwood Cottage would be the first stop and save me the awkwardness of having to tell Lord Hector I was walking home myself, or the equally awkward ride there alone with him.
Miss Hayworth came to my rescue. “We still have to discuss what to wear tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Lord Hector asked as he left the landau parked in the middle of the road and hopped down to offer his assistance as we got out. All three of us ignored his offered hand.
“Mr. Hoyt’s memorial,” Miss Hayworth said as she hopped down. “We’ve invited Miss Pengear to go with us.”
“And I am not included in this invitation?” Lord Hector asked, dropping his terrible accent.
“Were you going to Mr. Hoyt’s memorial?” Miss Hayworth asked, sounding surprised by the idea.
“Hadn’t planned on it. Didn’t want to cause a stir. Still, nice to be asked.”
“Well, if you’re certain you’re not attending, then consider yourself asked.”
“Most kind of you, but I’m afraid I must decline. I don’t think I’m quite welcome in the village.”
We all paused and I think all wondered if we ought to protest that comment somehow, hard as it was most likely true, but Lord Hector had already wandered away and was holding the gate open for us, which meant the moment to say something had already passed. It also seemed to mean he was inviting himself inside. I wondered if that meant he intended to stay for tea if asked, or even if not asked.
As I had been invited in, I walked up the path alongside Miss Dyer and Miss Hayworth. When they got to the door, Miss Hayworth hunted around in her handbag for the key and let us in, while Miss Dyer ignored Lord Hector and I followed her lead. Lord Hector ignored us in turn and followed us inside as soon as Miss Hayworth had the door unlocked.
“Would you like some tea, Miss Pengear?” Miss Dyer asked, “And then we can discuss your wardrobe options in a civilized manner.” Clearly, she meant to exclude Lord Hector. Equally clearly, Lord Hector didn’t particularly care. When it was clear no one was going to ask him if he wanted tea, he moved across the room until he was standing in front of all three of us and started speaking as if we’d been begging him to begin.
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited myself in.”
Miss Hayworth finally looked over in his direction. “So you do know you’ve done that? I was wondering.”
“I’m not quite so far gone that I don’t know the proper means of calling upon a pair of ladies and their friend, even if I choose to ignore them. But to return to my point, I’d like to do you a good turn. Don’t look at me like that; I do sometimes pay my debts, when they don’t involve money at least. And I’ve come up with just the thing. I have an aunt in Birmingham, likes to think she’s very artistic. I’ll get her to buy one of your paintings.”
Miss Dyer
glared at him. “I do show at a gallery, you know.”
“The Fielding’s on Piccadilly, right?”
I could tell from Miss Hayworth’s raised eyebrow and Miss Dyer’s sudden increased attention that they were both as surprised as I was that he had taken that much interest in Miss Dyer’s work.
“Nothing as fancy as that, of course. And something you wouldn’t put there. I’ll tell her it’s a great opportunity, something you wouldn’t have sold only I convinced you to, and she’s getting a deal on it. She loves to get a deal on something. How about that, there? She’d like something like that, a nice little watercolor.”
I was a bit surprised to see him point to the very picture Miss Hayworth had said Miss Dyer was going to pack away in the shed. So it seemed he did have some artistic sense.
“I wasn’t planning on selling that. It’s a study for a larger work.”
“The picture of the sheep pasture that Mr. Quinn has in his shop window? So you’ve finished with it, then? It’s outlived its usefulness?”
“Really, it’s a draft. It’s not up to my standard.”
“It’s not as good as, say, that.” He pointed to the landscape with stormy sky that was set up on the easel waiting for the next layers of paint. “But really, there’s nothing wrong with it. I’ll tell her it’s one of your lesser works, but still an original. And money is money. And really, what does it matter so long as she likes having it on her wall?”
“I don’t know...”
“We’ll come up with a fair price, less than you’d sell it for in the gallery or Mr. Quinn’s shop, but enough to make it worth your while. And no commission from me, so you’ll stand to make a nice bit of change.”
Miss Dyer stared at the picture in question, clearly considering the offer. “I suppose, if you told her it was something I wouldn’t normally sell...”
