02 - Murder at Dareswick Hall

by Margaret Addison

  Deacon closed the door behind the three of them. He glared at Rose but she pretended not to notice, refusing to meet his eye, and instead she wandered over to the window and looked out, as if fascinated by the view. She waited until Josephine and the inspector had chosen their seats and then deliberately chose a chair a little away from Deacon’s, where she was outside his line of vision but where she could catch Josephine’s eye if she found it necessary. If the inspector noticed this deliberate manoeuvre he made no sign and said nothing. Perhaps, thought Rose, he was impatient for the interview to get going. For him it had been a long day. He and his sergeant had barely stopped for lunch, snatching a few sandwiches hastily put together by the kitchen staff, washed down with a pot of tea. The family and guests had fared little better, no one having had much of an appetite and the servants being restive and unsettled. Unbeknown to her, Mrs Gooden had had to give the scullery and kitchen maids a stern talking to. They were now disinclined to work being torn as they were between crying their eyes out at the thought of being in a house where a murder had occurred and huddling in a corner speculating on who could have done such a thing.

  ‘Really, Inspector, my father does tend to overreact somewhat. I mean to say, calling in Scotland Yard to investigate my disappearance. Well I never! I’m frightfully sorry to have caused you such inconvenience. I’m sure that you’ve got far better things to look into than my being gone for the night.’

  Deacon studied her to see if she were being sincere. She was an ordinary, pleasant looking young woman, he thought. She had neither the fierce beauty nor strong temperament of her sister, he conjectured. A sensible sort of young woman, he supposed, one who would put the needs of others before herself, unlike Isabella Atherton.

  ‘We are not here to investigate your disappearance, Miss Atherton, although having said that I am sure your father will be delighted to find that you have returned from wherever you’ve been safe and well,’ Deacon said slowly, watching the reaction on her face closely as his words sunk in.

  ‘You’re not?’ To Rose, Josephine both looked and sounded surprised. ‘Well, I must say, that’s a relief. I would have hated you to have wasted your time over me. I can imagine your time’s jolly precious and all that.’ She smiled and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there. Then she looked around the room. ‘I say, where’s my father? I thought he’d be here to read me the riot act.’

  ‘He’s trying to make contact with the Duke of Haywater. Your brother and the Earl of Belvedere are with him now.’ Deacon pulled himself up straight and looked her in the eye. ‘I’m here, Miss Atherton, to investigate the murder of Lord Sneddon. His body was discovered this morning in the library by one of your maids.’

  ‘Oh!’ A stifled scream escaped from Josephine’s lips and her hand flew to her face and she covered her eyes. Deacon, Rose saw, was watching her keenly. To Rose’s eyes she was clearly distraught by the news and inwardly she cursed the inspector for breaking it to her so bluntly.

  ‘He had been stabbed in the back with this.’ Deacon took from the table the little gold dagger, which he held at one end, a handkerchief wrapped around the handle. It looked such a beautiful, inoffensive sort of thing. It was almost incomprehensible, Rose thought, that such an item could be a murder weapon. ‘Do you recognise it, Miss Atherton? Do you recognise the murder weapon?’

  Josephine’s face filled with a look of horror as she nodded her head very slowly before replying. ‘It’s my letter opener, Inspector. I keep it on my writing desk in the library. I use it nearly every day.’ She laughed a high pitched little laugh and then shuddered involuntarily. ‘I shall never use it again, of course. It is quite ruined, contaminated. I want you to take it away; I never want to lay eyes on it again.’

  ‘We shall certainly be taking it away with us for the time being,’ agreed the inspector. ‘It is evidence. You look shocked, Miss Atherton, if I may say so. Can I take it you were unaware of Lord Sneddon’s death until now?’

  ‘Well, yes, of course, Inspector, I would hardly have just disappeared if I had known about it, would I?’

  ‘Well, you might have if you’d had anything to do with his death,’ replied Deacon, his face taking on a serious look.

  ‘Are you suggesting that I murdered Hugh?’ exclaimed Josephine, looking at him incredulously. ‘Surely you can’t believe I killed him?’

  ‘Perhaps not you personally,’ agreed Deacon. ‘Perhaps you got the chauffeur to do the deed for you.’

  ‘Brimshaw?’ Josephine paled visibly. ‘Are you suggesting that our chauffeur had a hand in murdering Lord Sneddon?’

  ‘It is a possibility, Miss Atherton, and certainly something we will be looking into.’

  ‘Oh, this is ridiculous, Inspector. What possible reason could I, or our servant, have had to wish the man dead?’

  ‘You must look at it from our perspective, Miss Atherton. On the very same night, probably at the very same time, that Lord Sneddon was being murdered, you took it upon yourself to up and leave in the middle of the night leaving no note or explanation for your sudden absence. That seems to me very strange behaviour, Miss Atherton, particularly as you had guests in the house. Tell me, were you intending on coming back or was there a sudden change of plan?’

  ‘Of course I was coming back. Why, I would have been there and come back again and no one would have been any the wiser,’ Josephine said, desperately.

  ‘Would have” I think you said, Miss Atherton,’ said Deacon, looking at her sternly. ‘Do I take it that you set off later than you were intending to?’

  ‘Much later, yes. I had wanted to set off considerably earlier but people were still up and about. Everyone had retired to bed quite early but then they all seemed to start getting up and moving around again.’

  ‘Give me a few examples if you will, Miss Atherton.’

  ‘Well, the first time I was pretty sure that the whole household had gone to bed including the servants but, when I crept down the stairs to make sure, I heard Crabtree talking to Hugh. The library door was slightly ajar. I didn’t stop and listen to what they were saying but Hugh sounded rather upset. Well, then I went upstairs and waited some more and was just about to go downstairs again when I heard Rose’s door open and her go downstairs. I’m afraid I was rather annoyed with you, Rose,’ Josephine said looking up. ‘Particularly as you didn’t return straightaway. Well I waited some more, heard you come back and go into your room and then was just about to come out again when I heard Isabella’s door open. Her room is next to mine. Well, I waited an age for her to come back, I can tell you, and then when she did I pretty well ran down the stairs and went out of the house.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘About two o’clock, I think. But it could have been earlier. I remember thinking it was jolly late. I almost thought about not going at all.’

  ‘I’ll come on to that later. Now, did you happen to go past the library when you left the house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And was Sneddon there alone or was someone with him?’

  ‘I don’t know, the door was shut. Someone might have been in there with him but I’m afraid I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘You didn’t happen to go into the room yourself by any chance?’

  ‘And pick up my letter opener and plunge it into his back?’ asked Josephine. ‘No, I didn’t Inspector. The last time I laid eyes on Lord Sneddon was when I left the drawing room after dinner to go to bed, and he was very much alive then.’

  ‘What about Brimshaw?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Didn’t you let him in to help you carry your suitcase down the stairs?’

  ‘No, I managed that myself, Inspector. I would have liked him to have carried it for me, of course, but it was too risky. If he’d been caught, he couldn’t have explained why he was there. His living quarters are above the garage, you see.’

  ‘Yes, I see that. So you staggered with your suitcase down the stairs
and then what did you do?’

  ‘I let myself out of one of the little side doors. Crabtree’s a bit of a stickler for locks and bolts and things, and it is one of the only doors that’s not bolted. I didn’t want to make any unnecessary noise, you see, pulling back the bolts and all that.’

  ‘So you just unlocked the side door with a key, I assume?’

  ‘Yes, and I locked it behind me too. I knew Crabtree would be annoyed in the morning if he found the door unlocked.’

  ‘You’re sure you locked it?’

  ‘Absolutely, Inspector. I tried the handle a couple of times just to make sure.’

  ‘I see. What did you do with the key, Miss Atherton?’

  ‘It’s here, Inspector.’ With that, she produced it from her handbag.

  ‘Did you lend it to anyone while you were away from here?’

  ‘No, I’ve had it with me all the time in my bag.’

  ‘So, what happened after you let yourself out and locked the door behind you?’

  ‘Brimshaw was waiting for me on the other side of the door. The poor man had been waiting for me for ages. I was rather surprised to see him still there, to tell you the truth. I half thought he might have given up waiting for me and gone back to the garage. But he was still there.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Why, he took the suitcase from me and we walked over to the garage, of course, loaded up the car and set off on our journey.’

  ‘And where exactly was this journey to?’ enquired Deacon.

  There was silence. For the first time during the interview Josephine refused to answer.

  ‘Come, come, Miss Atherton, you’d do well to tell me. You said a few minutes ago that you had hoped to have returned before anyone was aware that you were missing. And yet you took a suitcase with you which we know from your maid was filled with a number of your clothes and jewels. That seems to indicate that there was a possibility at least that you intended to go for a very long time. In fact, perhaps you intended never to come back. Your brother and Miss Simpson here were certainly of that opinion.’

  Josephine looked at the floor and still said nothing.

  ‘When you came in just now, before you knew we were here, you said you were going to go and explain to your father where you’d been,’ said Deacon becoming exasperated. ‘Explain to me now, Miss Atherton, if you will.’

  ‘Yes, but that was before….’

  ‘Before what, Miss Atherton?’

  ‘Before…’

  ‘Before you’d heard about the murder.’

  ‘Yes.’ Josephine bit her lip and looked pale.

  ‘And now that you have, you won’t tell me where you were?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but no I won’t.’

  ‘Miss Atherton. May I remind you that this is not some game? A man was brutally murdered in this house at the same time that you were, at the very least, passing the door. By what you are saying, or not saying, to be more precise, your very journey or destination seems to have had some bearing or connection with this man’s death. I need to know where you went and why you set off at such an unusual hour when your house was full of guests.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Inspector. I’m not meaning to be awkward, really I’m not, but I’m afraid I can’t say anything yet. I need to think things through first.’

  ‘Miss Atherton –.’

  The conversation was interrupted by the constable knocking on the door and coming in somewhat apologetically, requesting that the Inspector come out of the room at once so that he might have a few words with him in private. The Inspector gave a quick glance at Josephine. It appeared to Rose that for a moment he had forgotten her own presence in the room. Later she wondered whether things would have happened any differently if he had demanded that she leave the room with him, rather than leaving her to converse with Josephine in his absence.

  ‘Stay where you are, if you will, Miss Atherton,’ Deacon said and, without giving a backward glance at Rose, he left the room.

  ‘Rose, what should I do?’ Josephine cried desperately, as soon as the door had closed behind the policeman. ‘Is it really true? Is Hugh really dead? Murdered! I just can’t believe it, there must be some mistake. Are they absolutely sure he was killed with my letter opener? Couldn’t he have just tripped and hit his head against the fireplace or some such thing? It’s the sort of thing men do all the time, isn’t it, particularly when they’ve been drinking which I assume Hugh had been.’ She put her hand to her face. To Rose’s alarm, she saw the girl was shaking.

  ‘No, Josephine, there’s no mistake.’ Rose walked over to her and took her hand. ‘He was found slumped over the desk with your letter opener in his back. But what do you mean by asking what you should do? You must tell the inspector the truth, of course. You must tell him where you went and the reason for your leaving so abruptly. I’m afraid, you see, that it all looks so very suspicious. It makes it look as if you’ve got something to hide.’

  ‘Perhaps I have,’ said Josephine rather ominously. Rose found herself shrinking back from her slightly. Josephine noticed her reaction and clung to her hand tightly, almost making the girl wince. ‘Please, Rose, you have nothing to be afraid of. It’s just that I’ve got to think very carefully about things, that’s all, before I say anything to that inspector. Everything’s such a muddle. I don’t know what’s important and what isn’t. But what I do know is that I have got to sort everything out in my mind first before I say anything. I know I’m not being very fair on you, by not telling you what this is all about, but you must help me, please. You must tell me what I can say to the inspector to make him leave me alone, if only for a little while. He’s trying to force the truth out of me and I can’t tell him, I can’t, at least not now. I want to be left alone. I need to make sense of everything.’ She looked up beseechingly at Rose clearly at her wits end. Rose felt a certain pity towards her and was somewhat alarmed at her pathetic state. This was not the same Josephine who had welcomed her to Dareswick. ‘Please, Rose, I’m desperate. I think I’ll go mad otherwise, quite mad.’

  ‘Well,’ said Rose, hesitating slightly, ‘there is one thing that you could do although I think you may find it rather embarrassing. But if you stick to your story I think Inspector Deacon may leave you alone, at least for the time being.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Josephine asked eagerly, clinging at the sleeve of Rose’s dress. ‘I’ll say anything so long as it means I’ll be left alone to think.’

  ‘When it was realised that you had gone missing, there was some idle speculation that you might have eloped with the chauffeur,’ Rose said, colouring a little.

  ‘Eloped with Brimshaw?’ Josephine looked appalled at the suggestion and went crimson. ‘I mean, he’s a jolly decent fellow and all that, he’s quite handsome, but I’d –.’

  ‘I don’t believe anyone seriously believed that you’d eloped with him,’ Rose said, quickly. ‘But you could pretend you had to Inspector Deacon, just for a little while. It would buy you some time to think what to do. But, Josephine, I beg you to tell the inspector the truth. He’s very reasonable, you know, for a policeman I mean. Cedric and I have had dealings with him before. He investigated that awful business at Ashgrove. He’s jolly decent. Anyway, you’ll have to decide quickly what you’re going to do because, unless I’m mistaken, I can hear him coming back.’

  Rose hurried back to her chair while the door opened and Deacon came in.

  ‘Ah, Miss Simpson, I had forgotten you were here. How very remiss of me.’ He stared at her suspiciously and Rose had the decency to blush. ‘Now where were we, Miss Atherton? Ah, yes, you were about to tell me what was so urgent that you had to set off at the dead of night and where exactly you have been.’

  Josephine took a deep breath and blushed.

  ‘Rose has just been telling me that I must tell you the truth, Inspector, no matter how embarrassing I might find it. She insisted that it was essential to your investigation that I tell you everything and, wh
at is more, that it was my duty to do so.’

  ‘Very good,’ Deacon said slowly, turning to stare at Rose for a moment. To Rose, he did not look or sound completely convinced by what Josephine was saying but had obviously decided to let it pass.

  ‘It’s all rather embarrassing, I’m afraid,’ said Josephine quickly, as if she were afraid that she would change her mind. She put her hand up to the side of her face. ‘I do hope that you will keep this to yourself, Inspector. I should so hate my father to find out. It’s not the sort of thing he’d understand at all.’ Deacon said nothing, he did not even give a slight nod of the head or mutter of encouragement. Josephine, having bitten the bullet, decided to plough on regardless. ‘It all sounds rather sordid but really it’s not. You see, Brimshaw… eh, that’s to say James, and I, well, we’ve sort of fallen for each other.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes, awfully inappropriate I know, and Father will be frightfully cross if he finds out, but there you are, one can’t really help who one falls in love with, can one?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Well, there you have it, Inspector. Brim…James and I, we just couldn’t bear it any longer, all the secrecy and everything, you know, making do with snatched moments and all that. We decided that we had to be together properly. I knew Father would never stand for my marrying the chauffeur, he’s awfully old-fashioned about that sort of thing, almost Edwardian in fact. So there really was nothing for it. If we wanted a life together, and we did, really we did, well there was only one thing we could do. We just had to elope. You do see that, don’t you?’

  ‘But what I don’t understand, Miss Atherton, supposing your story to be true, and I must admit that I do have certain reservations in believing what you are telling me,’ Deacon paused and turned to raise his eyebrows at Rose before turning back to Josephine, ‘is why you chose to elope this weekend of all weekends, when your house was full of guests and all the family were here. Why didn’t you choose a weekend when your father and sister were in town and your brother in Oxford? You wouldn’t have had to leave at the dead of night then.’