Heirs of the Body

by Carola Dunn

  There was a murmur of incredulity at this news.

  “August is surely an odd time for peach blossom,” Tommy observed.

  “Yes, indeed. They usually fly from May to July, and sometimes again in the autumn. They like blackberry brambles,” Edgar said pointedly.

  “Ah, a butterfly!” said Tommy, enlightened.

  “A moth, Mr. Pearson,” Edgar gently corrected him, “and a very attractive one. Pink spots. Thyatira batis.”

  Conversation was desultory as everyone tried to avoid the forbidden topic. Alec alone knew the whole story.

  Daisy looked round the table, as aware of those absent as of those present: Raymond deceased; Vincent and Laurette arrested; Martha still in bed on Dr. Hopcroft’s orders, though he had pronounced her and the unborn baby out of danger; Violet, who had nobly done her part for Martha and returned exhausted to the Dower House late last night; Belinda, Derek, and Ben, who had crowed over their triumph and then moved on to more interesting pursuits.

  Peach blossom was out of season, but the ripe fruit provided a peach tart, which was consumed with appreciation. Then the adults also moved on to a more interesting pursuit. Settled in the drawing room, coffee served, they looked to Edgar to start the proceedings.

  His lordship ceded the chair to Scotland Yard.

  “Thank you, sir.” Alec had no need to wait for their attention. “Let me begin by saying that this case has been one of the most confusing of my experience, if not the most confusing. Some of you know one part, some another, so you’ll forgive me if I tell you much that you already know. I’ll try to follow chronological order. The first noteworthy incident was Vincent’s report—”

  Several people interrupted: “But—”

  Alec held up his hand. “Vincent’s tale, if you prefer, of being attacked while strolling in the woods on Sunday afternoon. He himself said it could have been an accident, a falling bough that caused him to trip in dodging it.”

  “I’ve had my bailiff and my groundsman go through the woods,” Edgar said defensively, “checking for hazardous trees and dealing with them.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, sir. A falling bough may in fact have given him the notion of claiming he had an impression of someone swinging a branch at him. Misdirection figured largely in his plan. At any rate, there was nothing concrete enough for me to act upon, and though he limped heavily for a couple of days, with the aid of his walking stick, there was little damage done.”

  “I’ve just remembered,” said Daisy, “I noticed he walked perfectly normally when carrying a tray in the refreshment tent at the fête. And he’d been limping just a minute earlier. I forgot all about it when Belinda fell off the donkey.”

  Alec frowned at her and resumed his narration. “Belinda’s fall was the second incident.”

  “But Bel has nothing to do with the inheritance,” Frank protested.

  “True, which muddled the issue. But Daisy and I put together some odd facts.… Ben, with a cooperative donkey, was in the lead when he suddenly lost speed. This allowed Belinda to catch up, whereupon her donkey bucked her off.”

  “It doesn’t sound like the kind of beast I’d let my girls ride,” said Sam, a trifle censorious. His torso wrapped like an Egyptian mummy, shirtless under a borrowed blazer two sizes too large, he moved gingerly, but agreed with Drs. Pardoe and Hopcroft that his wound was nothing serious.

  “The donkey man said it was very docile,” Daisy assured him, “only it was afraid of flashing lights. He didn’t expect any trouble in broad daylight. Then Ben said a light had flashed in his eyes and startled him, making him unintentionally rein in his mount. We guessed it must have been a reflection of the sun’s rays, from a mirror, perhaps. When Ben slowed down and Bel moved ahead, it flashed in her donkey’s eyes.”

  “Again, it could well have been an accident,” Alec resumed, “though Ben’s involvement made us wonder. In a sense it was an accident, as it was not the intended victim who got the bloody nose.”

  “Ben likely wouldn’t have come to much harm,” said Frank, “if he had been the one to fall.”

  “Another reason for us to dismiss it as an accident. The third incident could not be so regarded, though it had the same slapdash quality. Edgar’s butterfly net was arranged near the bottom of the spiral steps to the boys’ turret room, where Derek was as likely to be tripped as Ben, and again no one was likely to be badly hurt. What’s more, in daylight the boys would probably have spotted it before falling over it. If not for the thunderbolt that scared them in the middle of the night, nothing at all might have come of it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Edgar said plaintively. “What did Vincent hope to gain from all this?”

  “Confusion,” said Alec. “And he succeeded there. Your butterfly net couldn’t have placed itself in position, so at that point I had to start wondering seriously what was going on. And I couldn’t make sense of it.”

  “I’m not surprised. What was next?”

  “Raymond’s death,” Geraldine said flatly.

  “You’ll find this hard to credit, but Raymond’s death was not intended. Vincent and Laurette both insist on that. Vincent claims he pushed Raymond with his stick so that he would stumble towards the tramlines, not hard enough to make him fall.”

  “But he fell?” Sam asked.

  “He did. A quick-thinking, quick-moving citizen helped him up but didn’t hang about to be thanked. Vincent had already left in a hurry, of course, for fear of being recognised. He claims Raymond had plenty of time to get out of the way of the trams, which were moving slowly. As a matter of fact, the policeman on point duty bears him out, as does one of the tram drivers.”

  “Then what killed him?”

  “A stroke—not to get into medicalese—brought on by shock.”

  “Then does it count as murder?” Frank wanted to know.

  “That’s not for me to decide, thank goodness. Assault, yes. Manslaughter, probably. Murder, I don’t know. It’s up to a coroner’s jury, at least initially.”

  “What I still don’t get is what was all this in aid of?”

  “Misdirection,” said Geraldine. “I’ve known a few boys in my time who were experts at it. The spurious stabbing of Vincent was the ultimate attempt at misdirection, I assume?”

  “Yes, the fifth incident. It wasn’t until after tea yesterday that Daisy brought to my attention a number of inconsistencies that ruled it out as a real attack. To do myself justice, I must say that I had my suspicions much earlier, but I couldn’t yet discount Sam or Frank. I still haven’t heard from Sam’s ship, though while you were all taking tea on the terrace yesterday, I received responses at last to my enquiries in Scarborough and Paris.”

  Tommy Pearson was defensive. “I myself made extensive enquiries in both places.”

  “But not, I think, of the police. The criminal propensities, if any, of prospective heirs were not your concern, nor their material circumstances, which were also of interest to me.”

  “True.”

  “We had just begun to study the letters from the Sûreté and the Scarborough police when Dr. Pardoe, the local police surgeon, called to discuss his findings on Raymond’s death; also, truth be told, in hope of getting the whole story. DS Piper continued reading the documents while I talked to the doctor. In the meantime, the footman let us know that Mr. Crowley had declared his intention of walking over to the pub, so I sent one of the local constables to keep an eye on him.”

  Frank grinned. “Nice chap. He stood me a pint.”

  “Then Daisy came in,” Alec continued, “with the evidence that the attack on Vincent was spurious. We had scarcely time to examine that before she rushed in again calling for Dr. Pardoe’s assistance for Mrs. Samuel.”

  “Bless him!” said Sam with fervour.

  “When the doctor rushed off, Piper reported to me the information from Scarborough and Paris. We—”

  “What did they have to say?” Geraldine asked.

  “We’ll get to that in a
minute, if you don’t mind.”

  “Or if I do, no doubt,” she said tartly.

  Alec smiled at her. “My two sergeants and I went up to the Vincent Dalrymples’ room. On the way, acting on information from Dr. Pardoe, I sent DS Tring on an errand.”

  “One which thoroughly upset my cook! I hope he found what he was looking for?”

  “Oh yes. Fingerprints. Meanwhile DS Piper and I gained admittance to Vincent and Laurette’s room and found that Vincent wasn’t there. Apparently he’d been slipping in and out at will, taking care not to be seen, not difficult in a house this size. A connecting bathroom with a second door to a different hallway—”

  “Which I—or my housekeeper or any of the maids—could have told you about had you asked!”

  “One would hardly expect them to leave surreptitiously, Cousin Geraldine,” Daisy pointed out. “Supposedly they had locked themselves in for their own safety.”

  “I should have demanded more men,” Alec admitted, “enough to cover all exits and all eventualities. When we found that Vincent was on the loose, I locked Laurette in. Piper and I separated to hunt for him. Daisy, I’m sure you’ve told everyone else what happened while we were searching, but I haven’t heard your story yet.”

  “I was looking for Sam to tell him Martha had been taken ill. I found him just as Vincent attacked. You know, I don’t think he had a clue the kids were tracking him until they jumped him. Then DS Piper and the local constable turned up, in the nick of time.”

  “How are the children doing?” Alec asked.

  “They said it was fun, once Vincent had been handcuffed and they knew Sam was going to be all right. Then they went off to start building a tree fort.”

  “Ben told me it was very exciting,” said Frank. “He didn’t seem at all upset.”

  “You needn’t worry about any of them developing a complex, darling,” Daisy assured Alec. “This morning, as it’s raining, they were playing in the attics. Derek found a book in the library about the Himalayas, called The Roof of the World, and they were all being explorers up there. Or perhaps Tibetan lamas, I’m not sure.”

  Alec laughed. “No one will believe their story when they go back to school.”

  “They should get a medal,” said Sam.

  Geraldine disagreed. “Certainly not. They need no encouragement to attempt such dangerous exploits. They should have followed Vincent, not tackled him.”

  “It’s easy to be wise after the event.” Frank sighed. “They got caught up in the excitement of the moment.” He obviously spoke from a wealth of experience. “Was Laurette arrested for conspiracy, Alec?”

  “Far worse. She attempted to procure an illegal abortion. She substituted a dangerous herb, pennyroyal, for the peppermint Martha was taking for indigestion. Dr. Pardoe saw the teapot, sniffed the contents, and recognised the smell immediately.”

  “Martha said it tasted unpleasant,” Daisy put in, “but she’s not the sort to make a fuss.”

  “Luckily Laurette didn’t realise it takes more than a simple infusion of the leaf to be reliably efficacious.”

  “Thank heaven!” said Sam.

  “Especially as Martha is six months … Sorry, Geraldine, it’s not a subject for mixed company.”

  “Nonsense, my dear man. It’s no earthly use being mealymouthed.”

  “Oh!” Light dawned on Frank. “There’s no point killing Sam if Martha then produces a son. That’s terrible.” He crossed the room to shake Sam’s hand. “I’m very glad she failed, old boy. I still don’t see what the other nonsense was about, though, the faked accidents and all. Alec, are you going to tell us the news from Scarborough and Paris?”

  “From Scarborough, the not very surprising news that the Vincent Dalrymples are in serious financial difficulties.”

  “What about the children?” Geraldine asked anxiously.

  “The boy’s been going to a small private day school. The French relative is governess to the daughters but also helped in the hotel. She took the kids to stay with her family in Paris for a fortnight while their parents came here. As things stand, I expect they’ll remain there.”

  Everyone was silent for a few moments.

  Then Sam said ruefully, “And the moral of the story is, don’t engage in criminal activities if you have a family dependent on you.”

  “Nothing venture, nothing win,” said Frank, “though murder is taking it a bit too far! So the reason he was desperate to be the heir by fair means or foul was just money, not the glory of being a lord. I can see that the pretended attacks on himself were meant to avert suspicion. And whatever he says about Raymond, whatever Raymond actually died of, he meant to kill him if you ask me. But the butterfly net, and the pointless donkey business—if that wasn’t a real accident…”

  “It was all part of a convoluted, half-baked plan to make it appear that all the possible heirs were targets, which made it appear that the attacker didn’t know who was the actual heir. However, he didn’t want to harm anyone who didn’t stand in his way.”

  “Good of him!” Geraldine exclaimed.

  “If he had not been suspected, he’d have continued to claim ignorance of the order of birth of Julian’s sons. If he found himself under serious suspicion, he’d produce evidence that he knew all along so that, as second in line, he had no reason to attack anyone but the actual heir.”

  “That’s an explanation?” Frank protested.

  “It’s the best I can offer.”

  “Feeble!”

  “He did succeed in muddying waters at first, but his efforts were ultimately unconvincing. His expertise was in hotel management, which requires careful organisation. A messy, improvised plot was very much outside his competence. He was bound to be caught in the end.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, the waters are still muddy. But you say he had proof of who bags the prize?”

  “That’s properly Mr. Pearson’s side of the business,” Alec said. “I’ll turn it over to him.”

  “Thank you.” Tommy bowed acknowledgment. “However, perhaps Lord Dalrymple would prefer to wait until his birthday tomorrow…?”

  “No,” said Geraldine. “I want it settled now. Tomorrow half the county will be here for the party and we can break the news to them.”

  “As you wish, my dear,” said Edgar with an absent smile. “I’m trying to remember what kind of caterpillar lives on pennyroyal. It grows in the herb garden, you know.”

  “I’ll have it dug out this very afternoon,” her ladyship said grimly, “whether that’s where Laurette obtained it or not.”

  Daisy wondered silently whether Geraldine would have been equally eager to uproot the laburnum alley, had Vincent used its deadly seeds to poison someone.

  Tommy cleared his throat. “Shall we proceed? Mr. Dalrymple, I trust you have kept safely the … item you showed me in London?”

  “Of course, sir.” As Sam started to struggle to his feet, Frank gave him a hand and a resigned look. Sam tried to look modest but couldn’t quite hide a grin. “Lord Dalrymple let me keep it in his safe.”

  “Edgar!”

  “Yes, dear?” His lordship emerged from his cogitation. “Pyrausta aurata. The mint moth, as I should have remembered. A singularly pretty creature.”

  “Oh bother your moths!” said Geraldine sacrilegiously. “Go with Samuel to open the safe. Would anyone care for more coffee?” She rang the bell.

  “Champagne, don’t you think, dear?” Edgar suggested from the doorway.

  Lowecroft came in and was told to bring coffee and champagne.

  “Do go on, Mr. Pearson,” said Geraldine. “We need not wait for their return.”

  “As you wish, Lady Dalrymple. In the car from Worcester, DCI Fletcher showed me letters he had received from France. To be precise, notarised copies of letters. They were written by Marie-Claire Dalrymple, née Vallier, wife of Julian Dalrymple, from Jamaica to her parents in Paris. Each announces the birth of one of her sons. They are dated.”

 
“The Sûreté obtained them from the Valliers,” said Alec, “who had previously sent copies to Vincent when he asked for family papers.”

  Tommy sighed. “They had not thought to mention them to my representative, as they naturally assumed Vincent would do so.”

  Edgar and Sam returned, as Lowecroft and Ernest brought in the coffee and three bottles of cellar-chilled champagne. “I ventured to bring some up after lunch, my lord,” said the butler, “just in case it was called for.”

  “Good thinking, my dear chap. Now!” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s see what Sam has to show us.”

  Sam’s parcel was carefully wrapped in oiled cloth and tied with a faded blue ribbon. Unwrapping it, he revealed a bible bound in black calfskin.

  “This belonged to my great-grandmother, Marie-Claire,” he said. “On the blank pages she kept a record of the family. She died in a cholera epidemic in 1850, along with her baby, a fifth son. After my great-grandfather, Julian, died in 1870, my grandfather moved his part of the family from the plantation to Kingston. He left this bible with his half sister, the child of Julian and a freed slave.”

  Frank, grinning, started to comment, then thought better of it and coughed instead.

  Sam placed the bible on the table at Tommy’s elbow, open at the flyleaf, and sat down beside him. “Her daughter, my great-aunt—”

  “Second cousin,” said Tommy.

  “Aunt Lucea. This was passed on to her, and she’s kept up the family records for all branches of the family still in Jamaica. I had to go over to the old plantation to beg her to lend it to me. That’s why—one reason—it took me so long to get here. Don’t for pity’s sake get sticky fingerprints on it!”

  Offended, Tommy put down his coffee, took out his handkerchief, and ostentatiously wiped his fingers. He studied the faded ink of the family tree.

  Daisy was tempted to go and look over his shoulder, but she resisted the temptation. Not that she wasn’t pretty sure of the answer, but she considered the lawyer to be prolonging the suspense to an unwarrantable length.

  “Yes,” he said at last, “this agrees with the letters from Paris. The eldest son of Julian was Alfred, born in 1832, father of James, father of Samuel. I can see no reason why the two together should not be accepted as evidence of primogeniture. Congratulations, Mr. Dalrymple. Congratulations, Lord Dalrymple, you have an heir.” A buzz of congratulations arose, which he promptly interrupted. “Pending, needless to say, the decision of the College of Arms.”