Heirs of the Body

by Carola Dunn

  “We’re going out again, Aunt Daisy. The sun’s coming out. It’s going to be a capital day!”

  “Off you go, now, and enjoy it,” said Frank.

  “I’ll come and join you at the boat in half an hour,” Edgar proposed. “I’ll bring Truscott to give it a thorough inspection.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Edgar!”

  As they ran off, Frank turned to Daisy and said in a low voice, “There’s a couple of bobbies roaming about, did you know? I’ve asked one of them, a young chap, to keep an eye on the kids. On Ben in particular. He said he’d do his best.”

  Daisy approved. At present, Frank was the suspect with the most opportunity to carry out every attack, but some incidents were by no means proven to be attacks rather than sheer accident. The kids were the most vulnerable. They should be the first protected now that manpower was available.

  Frank went into the breakfast room and Daisy headed for Edgar’s den. She found Alec eating bacon, sausages, kidneys, fried bread, and fried tomatoes at the desk, surrounded by telegram forms, various papers, and a couple of volumes of an encyclopaedia.

  “Nothing like exercise before breakfast to give you an appetite,” she said. “Ernest said you didn’t find the weapon?”

  “No,” he said gloomily, “nor any footprint, what with gravel on the paths and leaf litter under the bushes. It must have been the sound of a step onto the gravel that made Vincent start to turn.”

  “And saved his life.”

  “Possibly.” He mashed a tomato on the fried bread, the way he did at home but not in polite company.

  “And the telegrams?”

  “What about the telegrams?”

  “There’s no need to be disagreeable, darling. You said the weapon probably wouldn’t help anyway. Did you get responses from all those places?”

  “Believe it or not, the farthest away have answered already: Trinidad and Jamaica—admittedly they’re a few hours behind us—but Cape Town as well, and I believe they’re an hour ahead.”

  “Ahead? I always get confused.…”

  “When I wired them, it was already an hour or two later in the day there than here. Like Paris. In the West Indies it was still morning.”

  “Paris? Why Paris?”

  “Your ancestor, the one responsible for this troublesome lot, was married to a Frenchwoman. His son, Vincent’s grandfather, was sent to live with her family in France. And Vincent married a Frenchwoman. Doesn’t he even use his wife’s surname in his professional career?”

  “His great-grandmother’s, I think.”

  “The ties to France are very strong. I asked Geraldine—she was still up, writing letters—if she knew which part of France, and she told me Paris.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But I still don’t see—”

  “The more I can get to know about each of them, the better chance I have of working out who’s trying to do what to whom.”

  “Yes, I can see that. Did you find out anything about Vincent from Scarborough?”

  “They’re the others who haven’t answered yet.”

  “Scotland Yard is more impressive the farther away from it you are?”

  “That’s the way it looks!”

  “What did Trinidad and Jamaica and South Africa have to say?”

  “Crowley’s known to Port-of-Spain police. He’s had a couple of drunk and disorderlies, and thirty days for illegal gambling. All a good few years ago, before he married Benjamin’s mother. No violent offences on his record. He’s a master mechanic, started in the asphalt business—”

  “Road making?”

  “No, extraction. They have a lake of asphalt in Trinidad, apparently. Since marrying Ben’s mother, Susanna, in ’22, Crowley has worked at the dockyards in Port-of-Spain. A good job, overhauling marine engines. Pays well, but intermittent, and he’s pretty much lived up to his income what with four stepkids to bring up. That’s not from the police—it’s what he told me last night.”

  “The dockyards. So he could have met Sam.”

  “They both deny it. At that end, proving they knew each other would be difficult. At this end, we might have a chance.”

  “If they were in it together, it would clear up a lot of the mystery, wouldn’t it? Suppose Frank agreed to help Sam become heir in return for taking the kids into his care.”

  “And other valuable consideration, no doubt. Yes, it’s conceivable.”

  “It would explain the attacks on Ben—counting Bel’s fall. Frank was trying to divert suspicion and didn’t want to hurt him. He could have made the attempt on Vincent in the wood. And if he knew when Sam was due to arrive, he could have met him at the station and pointed out Raymond to him.”

  “Eleven twenty. We hadn’t yet arrived in Worcester.”

  “Well, they could have somehow arranged to meet. You’ll have to find out what Frank was up to at the Wedge and Beetle.”

  “I shall, believe me.”

  “So Frank met Sam and Sam tried to push Raymond under a tram. Then he tried to stab Vincent in the garden.… They’re not very efficient, are they?”

  “No. For two active fellows in the prime of life, they’re downright incompetent.”

  “So perhaps it isn’t them,” Daisy said hopefully.

  “I must find out whether Crowley’s received any letters or made any telephone calls since he’s been here. At the pub, perhaps, or post restante.” Alec made a note. “Or he could have found out about trains when he was in London and left a message somewhere prearranged.”

  “Was Sam really on that ship?”

  “He wasn’t on the copy of the crew manifest kept in Kingston.”

  “Oh dear!”

  “But that’s explicable. The chap who’s listed fell ill and Sam was taken on at the last minute. All it would take is a clerk forgetting to make the change. With everything so vague, the Admiralty won’t put out a request to all ships to look out for the Julianna. It’s a matter of waiting till she reaches Clydeside.”

  “What else did the Kingston coppers tell you?”

  “Nothing useful. Nothing I didn’t already know, except that Sam has no police record. Which could mean he’s never been caught, or could mean he’s never met with a big enough temptation. Other than the rumrunning caper, that is. That shows a tolerance for risk in pursuit of a sizable prize.”

  Daisy didn’t want to pursue the idea of Frank and/or Sam as would-be murderers. Particularly Sam. She liked both, but Sam’s guilt would devastate Martha. “What about South Africa?”

  “Raymond was carrying rough diamonds all right. He went to Antwerp between his first call at Fairacres and this visit. He showed what he’d brought to a couple of diamond merchants, and they were to prepare bids for his consideration on his return. Or something of the sort; I’m not clear on the details.”

  “Anyone who knew who he was could have guessed he had them on him and followed him all the way from Cape Town, or from Antwerp, just waiting for an opportunity!”

  “The middle of a busy street crossing in the heart of Worcester hardly seems the ideal opportunity.”

  “Perhaps not. He wasn’t caught, though, was he. He could have had another try if Raymond hadn’t dropped dead.”

  Alec looked sceptical. “I wish I thought so. As it is, we’re going to have to try to check everyone’s movements after they left the cathedral. I’m going to talk to the Worcester police about that.” He glanced at his watch, stood up, and collected all the papers together. “I must go. Smethwick’s going to drive me into Worcester in Raymond’s car and go on to London. I’ll meet Tom and Ernie and borrow a police car to bring them back. If you have any bright ideas, save them.”

  “Darling, are you actually asking me for bright ideas? Wild speculation?”

  “This business is such a confounded mishmash, I have a feeling it’s going to take a bit of wild speculation to solve it!”

  THIRTY

  Daisy decided that the weather was too good to waste, and that going for a walk was as good
a way as any to inspire bright ideas. If she was going for a walk, she ought to call in at the Dower House, or she’d have her mother complaining of neglect again. If she didn’t take the twins with her, Mother would complain that she never saw them.

  Also, she could tell Vi that Martha was unwell and hoped for a visit.

  Oliver and Miranda couldn’t walk all the way, though. That meant taking the double pushchair. Getting the contraption over the hill while keeping the toddlers from straying too far was really a two-man job. Belinda would willingly help, but she had gone with the boys, Edgar, and Bill Truscott (and, no doubt, Nana and Pepper) to inspect the boat, so Nurse Gilpin would have to go with Daisy.

  Mrs. Gilpin’s disapproving presence would probably squelch any bright ideas at birth. However, the other reasons for the expedition still stood, and once conceived it could not easily be abandoned.

  Daisy hoped her subconscious mind continued to work on the problem, because the twins had such fun on their outing that she almost forgot about Raymond’s death and the inexplicable events that might or might not be connected. The dowager made it plain that she considered the whole affair beneath her notice.

  In a low voice, Vi asked nervously about Derek’s safety.

  “Alec’s letting Belinda stay.” Daisy recalled the time she had broken off their engagement because he accused her of endangering Bel. “As far as we can tell, Ben himself isn’t really in danger. In any case, he’s safer when the others are with him. There’s a bobby keeping an eye on them, not to mention Ben’s stepfather, and Edgar, and Ernest, too, when they’re indoors.”

  “Ernest?”

  “The footman. He’s been very helpful. And Derek’s such a help with Belinda and Ben, but of course if you’d rather he came back here…”

  Violet glanced at their mother, who had obviously had quite enough of toddler antics. “No. He’d better stay with you. I wish John were here!”

  “He’ll be back tomorrow, won’t he? Martha was in the seventh heaven when Sam turned up at last. I presume the bush telegraph brought you the news?”

  “Yes. I look forward to meeting him. Mother’s dying of curiosity, too, though she won’t admit it.”

  “You’ll meet at Edgar’s birthday party.” If Sam hadn’t been arrested by then. “If not before—Martha’s feeling a bit seedy today and wondered whether you might be able to drop in later.”

  “I will, but it won’t be till after tea. We have a luncheon invitation, and then Mother’s dragging me on a round of calls.”

  “Rather you than me. Oliver, Miranda, it’s time to go. Say bye-bye nicely to Grandmother and Aunt Violet.”

  “We go home now, Mama?” Miranda asked.

  “To Uncle Edgar’s house, darling.”

  “Go now,” Oliver said firmly and darted towards the door.

  “Master Oliver!” Mrs. Gilpin’s stern voice, from the corner where she lurked, stopped him in his tracks. “Say good-bye like a gentleman.”

  Whatever her drawbacks, there were times when Daisy was very, very grateful for Nurse Gilpin.

  When they returned to the house, Nurse whisked the babies upstairs for a nap. Daisy went to see Martha. She was lying on the chaise longue, wan and woebegone.

  “It’s awful being so miserable when Sammy just arrived,” she said forlornly. “I told him it’s no good sitting here worrying, he should go and get to know his new relations. So he went away.”

  Though she sympathised, Daisy couldn’t find a good response to that. “Isn’t the tea helping?” she asked, gesturing at the pot and cup on the table at Martha’s side.

  “No. Lady Dalrymple—Cousin Geraldine—came to see me and she suggested hot water bottles, but they’re no help either. I’m too hot already. I just feel … awful. Sick, and standing up makes me dizzy.”

  “I’m going to call the doctor. If Dr. Hopcroft is still stuck in the floods, he’ll have arranged for a locum by now.”

  Daisy went down to the telephone in the hall and got through to Mrs. Hopcroft.

  “Yes, the water’s gone down already, Mrs. Fletcher, leaving several inches of mud in the streets. The doctor is out on his morning round but I’m expecting him back any minute for his lunch. I’ll tell him about … Mrs. Samuel Dalrymple, is it?”

  “That’s right. A sort of family gathering.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Mrs. Hopcroft paused, as if hoping for further information. Daisy did not oblige. “The doctor will call at Fairacres this afternoon without fail.”

  Daisy thanked her. As she hung up, Ernest appeared.

  “The chief inspector has returned from Worcester, madam, with two detectives from Scotland Yard. He’d like to see you in his lordship’s study when convenient.”

  Surprised and pleased, Daisy hurried to the den. She had rather expected to be shut out of the investigation when Tom Tring and Ernie Piper arrived.

  “Ernest said you asked for me, darling. Hello, Tom; hello, Ernie. How nice to see you.”

  DS Tring was wearing his summer suit, a vast acreage of robin’s-egg blue-and-white check, topped with an expanse of forehead that continued hairless to the nape of his neck. His flourishing moustache half hid a broad smile. He loomed over Ernie Piper, a slight figure, barely regulation height, in his dark blue flannel suit. Just seeing the two of them—Tom so good with people, Ernie so good with facts—made Daisy feel better.

  Greetings were exchanged, enquiries made after Tom’s godson Oliver and his sisters.

  “If you’re quite ready,” said Alec, a bit snarky. They all sat down. “Daisy, I want you to tell Tom and Ernie everything you can remember about the visit to Worcester, from the moment we parted in the cathedral. I’m hoping either the telling will remind you of something you saw or heard that you missed out when you reported, or one of them will spot something I missed.”

  Daisy dredged her memory for details. The three men listened in silence, Ernie writing down her words verbatim—his recent promotion to sergeant had not diminished his supply of well-sharpened pencils.

  “The road was flooded,” she finished, “so we turned round and came back here. Alec arrived a few minutes later.”

  Alec clarified: “Having been informed by Laurette—Mrs. Vincent Dalrymple—of Raymond’s accident.”

  “Can we come back to that in a minute, Chief?” said Tom. “Mrs. Fletcher, you didn’t catch even a glimpse of any of the suspects as you and Mrs. Vincent wandered about the city?”

  “No. She dragged me from shop to shop, none of which satisfied her. She went on about London or Paris being the only places to buy clothes. I don’t know how she survives in Scarborough.”

  “Did she buy anything?”

  “Some aspirin, a hairnet, and a magazine, that she could have bought in any of a dozen shops.”

  “Was she hunting for anything in particular?”

  “Not that she mentioned. She looked at clothes mostly. We went into a toy shop but she didn’t seem to be particularly interested.”

  “Ah,” said Tom profoundly.

  Ernie took his turn. “Mrs. Fletcher, can you estimate how much time passed between your first awareness of something happening ahead and when you dropped Mrs. Vincent at the hotel?”

  “Heavens no. I suppose it was at least fifteen minutes. Less than half an hour, though. That’s the best I can do, and I wouldn’t swear to it.”

  “You heard the deceased say he was pushed?”

  “Yes. ‘Someone pushed.’ He was mumbling, not speaking clearly. He was in a daze. The bobby who’d helped him to the pavement assumed he was referring to the person who pushed him out of the way of the trams, so I did too. Now I come to think of it, he repeated the phrase. He might have been trying to say he didn’t mean that person.”

  “Maybe. Mrs. Vincent offered to go and tell the rest of the party? Or did you suggest it?”

  Daisy frowned. “I’m pretty sure she offered. But she wanted a lift to the hotel in Raymond’s car.”

  “Chief,” said Tom, “you have
n’t described their reactions when they heard.”

  “We’ll discuss that later,” said Alec, to Daisy’s annoyance.

  “What about Mrs. Vincent, Mrs. Fletcher? Was she very upset?”

  “I was concentrating on Raymond, not Laurette. When we first realised there had been an accident, neither of us was keen to get close. Then the crowds sort of relaxed—it was really crowded, the first shopping day after the bank holiday—so I assumed nothing too serious had happened and we walked on the way we’d been going. Of course, when I saw it was Raymond, I hurried forward. I was concentrating on Raymond, not on Laurette’s emotions.”

  “But she was tut-tutting at your side?” Tom suggested patiently. “After all, from what I gather, she was more closely related to him than you were.”

  “Slightly closer. Not at all close. And Raymond really didn’t make any effort to get to know anyone at Fairacres, wouldn’t you say, darling?”

  “I agree, except for his one kindness to Belinda.”

  “Oh yes, at the fair. So out of character as to be memorable! He wasn’t a very congenial person. No, Laurette wasn’t ‘tut-tutting at my side,’ Tom. She stood back a little. There wasn’t much room at his side, though, what with me and the coppers.”

  “And in the car?”

  “Sorry, I really wasn’t paying much attention to her. It was only a couple of minutes’ drive to the Talbot. Alec, have you asked Geraldine what she observed at the hotel when Laurette told you all about Raymond?”

  “No, that’s a good point. I will. All right, if you can’t think of anything else.… Do you know where the kids are?”

  “No, but wherever, I’m sure they have Edgar or Frank or one of the Worcester bobbies, or all three, on guard and doubtless cramping their style. That reminds me, I promised to go and look at the river, to see whether it looks safe for boating.”

  “You’re the expert, Mrs. Fletcher?” Tom teased, grinning.

  “Experienced in the Severn’s moods, at least. My brother and I used to do quite a bit of boating.”

  “Ah.”

  “Thanks, Daisy. I’ll probably be asking you to go back over your impressions of the other incidents, but Raymond’s being the only death—”