Death Waits for No Lady

by James Andrew

  ‘What was she doing when you last saw her?’

  ‘What she did every morning: her piano practice. She did it regularly as clockwork and it was lovely.’ Her face looked sad as she said this.

  ‘What was your relationship like with your employer?’

  Janet answered for Mary. ‘Mary’s only been here a few months so she’s still settling in, but she got on all right with her.’

  ‘Is there anything you want to add to that?’ Blades asked Mary.

  ‘There isn’t anything else she can tell you,’ Janet said.

  ‘Can’t she tell me herself?’ Blades asked.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Janet said. ‘I shouldn’t have interrupted but she’s only a girl, and Miss Wright had very little to do with Mary. The mistress saw Mary on the day she arrived when she had her interview with her, but Mary gets all her instructions from me. If Miss Wright had a comment to make about the work Mary was doing, that was made through me.’

  ‘How old are you?’ Blades asked Mary.

  ‘Fourteen, sir.’

  Mary could have passed for twelve, Blades thought. Still, fourteen was young, even though it was the usual age girls started in service.

  ‘I got on all right with her, when I did see her. Not that she said anything much, as Janet said.’

  Blades studied Mary. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Did you see Mr Russell last night?’

  ‘No. It was my evening off and I didn’t come back till ten.’

  ‘Did you see or hear anything then?’

  ‘We use the back entrance and stair, sir. I wouldn’t see anything that was going on at this end of the house.’

  ‘And you didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  Blades thought he had probably asked Mary enough questions for now but did not dismiss her. He looked across at Janet. ‘When was the last time you saw your employer?’

  Janet considered. ‘She came down to compliment me on her meal. It was some time after six. Then she discussed the next day’s menus.’

  ‘And how did she seem?’

  ‘Her normal self. Nothing seemed to be bothering her.’

  ‘How long have you worked for her?’

  Janet gave a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘About thirty-five years.’

  ‘A fair whack of time.’

  ‘I started here when I was twelve.’

  ‘So, you’ll know everything there is to know about Miss Wright?’

  ‘She was a lady from a fine family, and she was a good soul. I felt sorry for her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Her father was a self-centred Tartar and he clung onto Miss Wright so much after her mother died. She was a fine-looking woman, Miss Evelyn, and she had a way with her, so that we thought she would make someone a good catch, but her father saw off any young man who came to call. He wanted her all to himself.’

  ‘How did she react to that?’

  ‘How could she? It’s not as if she’d any independent money. Her mother arranged soirées so that Evelyn could be introduced to eligible young men. There was one we thought might have won her, a well set-up gentleman, Alex Forsyth, from one of the wealthiest families in Birtleby, but Miss Evelyn’s father set a private detective on him and found out he’d fathered a baby to another woman, so he forbade Evelyn from seeing him, which might have been fair enough. She’d have finished with him herself when she found that out about him, but it was the same with every young man who came to call. Mr Wright would make a point of finding out any faults or secrets, and make sure Evelyn knew. And who’s perfect?’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘After Evelyn’s mother died, the soirées came to a halt, so her father had no more young gentlemen to see off, and he ended up with what he’d decided he wanted, which was Evelyn all to himself. But Evelyn adapted to it. She did her good works on different charity committees – and comforted herself with her piano. She was never away from that. It was as if tinkling away on it was the only way she could express herself. And it was lovely to listen to.’

  ‘Then her father died?’

  ‘He was ill and became a bed-bound invalid for a long time, when he needed her even more, so she got even less of a life then.’

  ‘Did you like him?’

  ‘As an employer? He was no better or worse than any of his class, and who are we servants to criticise them? But, as a father, he was too domineering with Evelyn.’

  ‘So how was she after her father’s death?’

  ‘Grief-struck. I thought she became a bit too fond of her own company.’

  ‘Then she found herself a young man, this Digby Russell?’

  ‘If he was her young man. He was her minister and a queer fish. He talks to the dead and gets everyone to believe him.’

  ‘Not a light-hearted, pleasure-loving young man?’

  ‘I wish she’d met one of those. Digby has a light-hearted way with him, but his eyes aren’t light.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. It’s as if he knows something clever no one else does, if that’s it.’

  ‘Is he ill-tempered at all?’

  ‘He’s charm itself. Some people talked about him and Evelyn because of the number of times he came around – and he was fifteen years younger than her. I thought if she did have a young man it would be a good thing. A bit of life was what she needed.’ Then Janet paused as if struck by a thought. ‘Not that a bit of life’s what she got.’

  Blades noticed the poignancy but was aware he couldn’t allow himself to indulge it. Fortunately, Janet recovered her composure quickly. ‘Do you think there was a romance there?’ he said, with a gentle tone.

  ‘It was all kept proper but who’s to say?’

  Blades waited to see if Janet would elaborate but she did not. ‘Do you know anything about enemies Miss Wright might have had?’

  ‘I don’t know of anyone she might have disagreed with this much.’

  ‘Who did she have disagreements with?’

  ‘Not that anybody springs to mind at all. She was a good-natured soul.’

  Blades looked carefully at Janet. ‘How did you find Miss Wright to work for?’

  ‘It was an old-fashioned family. They kept their distance from you. They thought you wouldn’t do your work properly otherwise, and Miss Wright was just the same as her father and mother. They’d have preferred it if a maid had been invisible. Mary’s work had to be done when Miss Wright wasn’t in the room. And Mary had never to show her back to her. Sometimes it meant leaving a room backwards. I don’t know how much you know of the ways of big houses, but that’s not uncommon.’

  ‘I’ve some idea. My mother was a housekeeper before she married, and she told us stories about it.’

  Janet looked surprised. ‘Where was your mother in service?’

  ‘To the Lyons over at Fanthorpe. She was the housekeeper. She married the local grocer she did business with and left.’

  ‘Good for her,’ Janet said. A look that Blades couldn’t quite place appeared in her eyes, then left. ‘Janet’s not my name, you know.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s what they always called the housekeeper in that family so it’s what they called me. Elizabeth’s my real name. Betty. Not that I’d probably answer to it now.’ She laughed briefly. ‘I came from an orphanage.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘So I didn’t mind. They were being ever so good to us in that establishment, so they said. All the girls were trained for employment, so they would be able to make their own ways in the world, and it was service they trained you for. I wouldn’t have minded meeting someone like your mother did, but it was difficult. They didn’t approve of followers.’

  That look reappeared on her face, then just as quickly vanished again.

  ‘But I’ve always had a roof over my head – till now. And the Wrights were always decent people to work for.’

  ‘I expect you’ll find somewhere soon enough.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m not getting any younger.
’

  ‘Was Miss Wright an only child?’

  ‘She had a brother. Not that he had anything to do with the business either.’

  ‘The business?’

  ‘The Wright family. They owned Wright’s Biscuits. You’ll know of them.’

  ‘Oh, definitely, though I wasn’t sure whether Evelyn Wright was part of that family. They’ve that big factory outside Birtleby?’

  ‘That’s where the wealth came from, but the father sold it after he’d grown a bit older and got used to the fact his son wasn’t interested.’

  ‘Where does the son live now?’

  ‘Andrew has a place in Harrogate. He and Evelyn kept up with each other though I couldn’t say when he was last here, a month or so I suppose. His father settled money on him as he said he felt a man should have independence, so Andrew leads a leisured life, and he writes novels which are supposed to be well thought of, though I’ve never read them.’

  ‘A brother?’ Blades said. ‘We’ll make sure he’s informed. He and his sister were on good terms when they last met?’

  ‘Reasonable. It was a brother and sister relationship. They knew each other inside out and weren’t slow to criticise. Andrew didn’t think much of Digby. That might be why he hasn’t been near the place so much.’

  ‘Where does Digby Russell live?’

  Janet told him.

  ‘You and Mary were the only servants?’

  ‘There’s the kitchen maid, Katy, and a gardener, Charlie Falconer. He has a cottage in the grounds.’

  ‘Katy?’

  ‘She helps me in the kitchen. She’s been here longer than Mary. She came here about a year and a half ago. She was the parlour-maid and then, after Mary came, she was promoted to the kitchen.’

  ‘Was Katy here last night?’

  ‘She had cleaning up to do but she’d have finished about nine. She’d have been up in her room after that. Not that her room’s anywhere near where Miss Wright was. The maids are right at the top of the house. And the kitchen’s in the basement. She couldn’t have heard or seen anything.’

  ‘Still, she’ll need to confirm that. And there’s a gardener, you say? Would he have been around the house at that time of night?’

  ‘No.’

  Although he might have seen someone in the gardens, Blades reflected. He would question him, but not just now.

  ‘Can I talk to Katy?’ Blades said.

  Janet walked to the bell rope and pulled it again. Blades supposed that everyone was summoned by the clanking of that bell in this house.

  A well-developed girl appeared, frowned at Mary, glanced apprehensively at Janet and stared at him. Blades guessed she would be no more than sixteen but, with her build and self-confidence, looked older. Her maid’s uniform neither succeeded in disguising her voluptuous figure nor in dampening what looked like a fiery spirit, Blades thought, as he studied the imperious and questioning eyes. But there was some measure of nervousness there and a paleness of the skin that suggested the shock she, like everybody else in this household, must have felt.

  He attempted to give her a reassuring smile. ‘Inspector Blades,’ he said. ‘I’m investigating your mistress’s death.’ Then he paused, wondering how he should proceed. ‘Did you hear or see anything untoward?’ he said.

  ‘I’ve enough to do in that kitchen without paying any attention to what’s going on upstairs.’

  There was a boldness in the reply that made him think this girl might be less nervous than he had expected. ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘Though if you’d heard your mistress screaming because someone was attacking her you would have?’

  Her veneer of self-composure was rocked at this and her reply gushed out. ‘I would then.’

  ‘What time did you finish in the kitchen?’

  Now Blades noted that although she met his eyes fully, she shifted from one foot to the other. ‘About nine – and then my time was my own, so I wouldn’t be looking for Miss Wright in case she gave me something else to do. I just wanted to get my feet up.’

  ‘So you went upstairs to your room?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That wouldn’t take you past the drawing room?’

  ‘We go up the back stairs,’ Katy replied but did not elaborate.

  ‘I suppose you do.’

  ‘I understand you’ve been working here about a year and a half?’ Blades asked her.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And how do you find it here?’

  Katy glanced across at Janet. ‘It’s a good place. Lots of girls my age in service would be jealous of me.’

  ‘You were here when Mr Wright was still alive?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  There was a pause as Blades gave her the opportunity to continue.

  ‘He was a bit of a tyrant with Miss Evelyn, I thought. He treated her as if she were one of the servants. He had her waiting on him hand on foot, but he was as could be expected with us. We are servants.’ At this, she suppressed a laugh.

  Then Janet interjected. ‘She was swallowed up by her father. It was a shame. He could be a selfish man. I knew what she felt.’

  ‘You did?’ Blades replied as Katy turned her head to look at Janet with a surprised curiosity. ‘What do you mean?’ Blades asked.

  Janet, who had not looked as if she intended to elaborate, now did, after a moment’s hesitancy. ‘My sister died.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘It was cancer and when she was nearing the end of her illness, I wanted to go to her.’ She struggled with the thought. ‘They don’t mean harm, people of this class, but they don’t really see you if you’re a servant. They think they do right by you, but they don’t always. It was all right, Mr Wright said. I could go to my sister if she was ill. But I had to have my duties done first. And there were visitors that weekend and there was all the organizing to do; by the time they’d left, and I could go, she was dead.’

  Janet sat in silence, tears started to stream down her face. After some time, she found what she could of her sang-froid, wiped the tears away, and pulled herself upright again, but Blades wondered how long the composure would last.

  ‘That must have been dreadful for you,’ Blades said, his voice soft.

  ‘It was. So I know how she must have felt. He was a selfish man. And now I grieve for Miss Evelyn.’

  Blades swept his gaze over the three servants as he said with decisiveness, ‘You must all let me take your fingerprints, to compare with the others in the room. It’ll allow me to eliminate yours.’

  They complied. Then, as he had nothing more to ask them for the present, he dismissed them, saying that Peacock would see them later to take their statements. It was time to examine that murder scene further.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘That desk isn’t just open,’ Peacock said when Blades entered the room. ‘It’s been forced.’

  ‘Has it now?’ Blades strode to the escritoire and studied it, still without touching anything. ‘Have you started on fingerprints?’

  ‘I was about to.’

  Peacock opened his black leather bag and took out boxes of French chalk and of lampblack, then started on the desk with white powder. It was covered in prints and prints on prints. Most were blurred but a few showed clear loops and whorls. ‘Miss Wright’s must be all over it,’ Peacock muttered.

  ‘And someone else’s?’ Blades asked.

  ‘Someone else with gloves on,’ Peacock replied.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Blades said, studying them. ‘Try the poker.’

  Peacock brushed chalk on, then took out metal pincers from his bag before turning the poker and trying the other side. When he had finished, Blades took the pincers from him and also studied the poker. Just beside the bloodstain, just there, was a hair. Taking tweezers from his pocket, Blades picked up the hair to examine it against the light before putting it in an envelope.

  ‘A hair of Miss Wright’s?’

  ‘I would think so,’ Blades said. ‘And the poker
was the murder weapon.’

  ‘Looks like it. Good prints on it too.’

  ‘Try the glasses.’

  There were clear prints on both of them.

  ‘Good. We can establish if the poker was wielded by her visitor or not,’ Blades replied.

  ‘When do you think he put the gloves on?’ Peacock asked.

  ‘After she was dead, and he wanted to rifle for the papers he wanted?’

  ‘Why didn’t he wipe the prints on the poker?’

  ‘A good question.’ Blades sighed, and a frown appeared on his forehead, which slowly deepened.

  Peacock continued dusting to Blades’ instructions. Once he’d dusted everywhere, Peacock then proceeded to photograph all the prints.

  As he did so, Blades busied himself. He had brought his bag with him from which he produced a powerful flashlight. With this, he swept the room, examining every inch of the rug round the body, to begin with, then outward to cover all the carpet, flooring, chairs and other furniture, finishing back where he started, where he began a study of the fireplace. When he was finished, he said, ‘The only traces of blood are centred round the body, which suggests the body hasn’t been dragged around and that the murder happened where she fell, which fits in with what we thought, a quarrel followed by a couple of quick blows. And, so far, it points to Digby Russell.’ Blades continued, ‘He was the person last with her, to our knowledge. Janet opened the door to him, though she did not see him leave, and the body was found the next morning by the maid.’

  ‘Unless it was someone in the house,’ Peacock suggested.

  ‘Or someone else entered it unseen. The prints might tell us about that.’

  ‘What do we know about Digby Russell?’

  ‘Younger than Evelyn. Much. And he spent a lot of time in her company; providing spiritual support, we’re told. She was left on her own by her father’s death and presumably came into money, so there could have been other reasons. After all, her father defended her from any young man who ever showed an interest in her. At last, she had the freedom to have a relationship with one, and there was Digby Russell. She must have felt drawn to him.’

  ‘That sounds likely,’ agreed Peacock.

  ‘I wonder if he’s a man for the ladies among his flock.’ Blades was in full flow now and started to speak more quickly. ‘But if he had designs on her, why kill her? Did he move too fast on her and alarm her? Did he assault her? Or had she changed her will in his favour? Or was there insurance?’